Honeyed Pasture She just sleeps through the night

As dusk fell, Eydis found herself straying from the territory laid out so carefully by Forneskja.

She felt that she had been pulled along by an unnatural, maybe even mythical force. It was the only explanation, for what reason would she have to wander so far?

Stood in a pasture, she found herself paused. The was nothing significant. No out of place scents, or mysterious objects. Only a pasture. Lifting her head she let out a long, nearly mournful howl.

Eydis shook her head, grunting at her own ridiculous behaviour. This was quite the pain, for now as she returned she would surely not be back in her den before nightfall.

is it okay if we future date this by like .. a day !! maybe 2 days !! just so the timeline makes sense (meeting solharr first & stuff) <33

dusk brought shadows. but once the moon rose, her light flooding the land, rökkur would know peace. the máni brought comfort, even though it had been the name of the mercenary that had spawned the warrior. other times, he preferred to call her by her other name: the tungl. such a word birthed the name of his natal pack.

but it had yet to rise, and rökkur prepared himself to bask in its' light, freshly bathed and pine-scented after rubbing against the neverwinter bark and the needles that had fallen. a sorrowful howl sounded out, then, and the shadow rose, ears perked as he searched for the source. so, trudging across the lands, he drank in the winds. scents rode towards him, that of a woman—a forneskja woman, no less—being the strongest.

eventually, he would come to approach her within the pasture, studying her. pretty and blonde. shaking her head as if she was disappointed with herself. he stood awkwardly a few ways behind her. a woof was what marked his presence only a few moments before he spoke: hello, he murmured. a rumble from deep within his chest. are you ... okay? spoken gently. with genuine curiosity; concern.

his tongue was careful around unfamiliar words. northern accent clear, spilling from his lips, tumbling with little grace. but his expression ... his eyes shone with weariness—for her. she reminded him of his mother, somewhat. scarlet hues would carefully meet those of mint, should she turn to him. and he would sit upon his rump.

a safe length away, for her sake.

No problem!

Someone approached, she could feel the eyes on her back in the way her fur raised. She turned as he called out to her, eyes dragging over the stranger. Forneskja. She stated. I need to go back.

Carefully, she took in his scent. There was familiar scents on him, though weak. A new recruit of Solharr's, she assumed. Who are you? An eyebrow was raised, brow furrowed.

he watched her, then, as she turned to face him. forneskja, he repeated. i can walk with you. his questions went unanswered, but that was alright with him.

she asked who he was, then, and he gave a polite dip of his head: i am rökkur, he said. no amount of dignity nor pride was held within his name. merely the title of a man. who are you? someone that sólhárr had taken interest in, it seemed.

Eydís. She offered up her own name, her gaze now drifting past him. Towards Forneskja, towards home. Come. She quickly moved into a trot. She did not wish to remain in the dark for long.

She was unsure when her discomfort began, her unwillingness to be encased in darkness. Her fear of the moon and stars looming over her, judging her.

She felt watched, intimidated. She could not allow herself to be alone.

he gave a polite dip at her name before he followed. quiet. paws, though large, scarred, still gentle upon the earth below them. but her discomfort did not go unnoticed, and rökkur, ever the perceptive, thought to murmur a word, or three: are you okay? repeated from when he had spoken to her before—the first time.

but a few more followed. you do not have to answer, norse accent thick upon his pink tongue. you sounded sad, however. an invitation, though the words said in a way that suggested his cooperation, should she not wish to speak on it.

that did not mean, though, that he would not be curious.

The man spoke once again, questioning her. Eydís would have preferred to walk in silence.

Are you not discomforted as well? She asked, raising an eyebrow. It was odd not to be, she thought. They watch us, you know.

She thought such a thing to be obvious.

trade: spiritualist

he paused, then. who? his voice dropped, and norse laced his pink tongue, thick and rumbling. the moon? the stars? his máni? he looked at her figure with a tilted head and knitted brows. how could one be afraid of such a thing? discomforted?

rökkur continued behind her. why are you afraid? a careful tone. gentle words. curious, though somewhat unbelieving. he took solace in the light above them. the fact that someone could think differently was a shock. something that challenged the views he'd been raised upon. a sentence that rocked his world.

just, he thought. how?

They are windows for the fae. She wrinkled her nose as she spoke, jowls raising momentarily. They watch, and they plan.

Evil, disgusting creatures. Selfish and uncaring. The less time Eydis spent under their watchful eye, the better. The less likely she would be to fall victim to them again.

She knew the stories, and she had paid the price when she did not heed their message. It was not something she wished to repeat.

trade: spiritualist

windows for the fae? children of the mother, he had learnt. who told you that? he said, then. why would anyone believe such a thing? he was trying, truly, he was trying to understand why such a concept would exist. but he had been shown nothing but love from the moon and her stars.

but he thought back to the river of red. her absence, then, the day that the fighting had been its worst. but when she was back, full and bright, the war had ended. she had ended it. i don't understand, he said. truthful. hoping to learn. what makes you believe that they are malicious?

Why did he doubt her?

She shook her head, a heavy sigh from her lips. She supposed that Chevy had not believed her, either. Because I have faced their tricks.

They are unkind. Her jaw felt tense, her throat run dry. She did not wish to speak of her experience.

trade: spiritualist

he was uncertain. trustful in his beliefs, though curious as to what had damaged this woman, he knew that it surely had not been his máni dama. i'm sorry, he said, quietly, at her mention of them being unkind.

she must have faced some kind of trickster, he thought. a being pretending to be the stars, the moon. otherwise, it did not make sense to him. he sped up so he could walk alongside her, then. parallel. changing the subject, he spoke: would you like me to accompany you to your den? a gentle tone.

if she declined, he would see her to the treeline before returning to his prayer.

No.

Her response was blunt, cold. This man spoke too much, asked her too many questions. They forced her to think - Eydis did not like to think.

She had remained in Forneskja to escape her mind. Speaking of the fae certainly did not help.

Now she faced forward as they walked, stoic and completely silent.

trade: spiritualist

okay.

and he would walk alongside her, silently, until they reached the treeline. when they did, he would tell her 'goodnight,' give her a polite dip of his head, and turn away.

the moonlight was something he relished within. he only wished that she could see it the same way, rather being tormented by her past, and the lies that she had surely been told.

a twinge of sympathy would pang within his chest.

but the night was still young. it mustn't be wasted.

fade here? <3