Neverwinter Forest I do admire your courage

for @Callyope

The Heimtré stood tall and ancient, its gnarled branches reaching skyward as though to touch the gods themselves. The air around it was serene, hushed, as if the land knew this place was sacred. Íruna approached with quiet steps, her lavender eyes tracing the tree’s intricate twists and turns before falling to the figure beneath its boughs.

Callyope.

Íruna carried no grand offering (something she almost regretted the moment she saw Callyope), only herself and a quiet purpose. Her thick coat shifted slightly in the breeze as she came closer, her posture calm but open.

“I thought I might find you here,” she said, her tail swaying faintly. “It seems the Heimtré calls to us both.”

She paused briefly, taking in the scene—the way the light filtered through the canopy above, the way the tree seemed to embrace the land around it. “You spoke of this place with such light before. I wanted to see it as you do.”

her beloved @Solharr must busy himself with gathering the bride price.

callyope took a shine to Seiðkona in his absence. busied herself from before the sun rose to well after the moon shined high.

she felt grateful that she had assigned the seer and that she was near now.

i am flattered, her face warm and her gaze almost girlishly dancing away for a moment. come, come. she beckoned the seer closer to the tangle of roots.

the roots of the tree hold much strength in them, do you feel it?

Íruna stepped closer to the roots, feeling their strength beneath her paws. She closed her eyes for a moment, focusing her breath as she inhaled the gritty scents of the earth and the roots.

"I feel it," she replied softly, her tail flicking gently. "The strength of the land... it’s as if the roots are holding everything together."

A smile warmed her face then, and awe filled her lavender eyes.

She met Callyope’s gaze. "No wonder you find peace here, Seiðkona."

how easy to feel peace when there is strength.

her head tilted back to feel the winding breeze, the ruffle of it through her thick coat. winter was a cherished season for a woman made of snow.

this is the heart of forneskja. a heart can only keep its strength if we tend to it faithfully.

she moved now to procure a bundle of things wrapped up in a ramskin.

Íruna watched as Callyope moved with graceful purpose, her curiosity piqued by the bundle she now held.

“Yes, a heart must be cared for if it is to endure,” she spoke warmly, with the same warmth with which she regarded the Seiðkona.

The wind stirred her coat and Íruna found herself wanting for the warm sands of her home, but it wasn't anything she voiced.

She glanced at the ramskin bundle then, an attempt at distracting herself from the mounting cold of Winter. “What have you gathered?” she asked, her tone light. "If I may know, Seiðkona."

ramskin.

once a courtship gift.

now white elk was nowhere but her mind and she found even the memories began to felt distant. it was not so long ago, but time had filled her days with so much.

she motioned her seer closer before she unveiled the contents.

the tusk of a boar, a dried collection of lavender.

strength and peace, given form. i keep it stored here with the heart.

Íruna stepped forward at Callyope’s motion, her eyes briefly taking in the contents of the ramskin.

She nodded faintly, her gaze flicking back to Callyope. “Strength and peace,” she repeated, her voice even. “They belong here.”

It was a straightforward observation, spoken without lingering too long on the thought. After a long bout of silence, she cleared her throat.

"Shall we pray, Seiðkona?"

lead us in it, seer.

she encouraged softly.

and when we have said our words, we will fold the ramskin to bind them against these things.

perhaps she ought to bury the bundle in the tangle of roots. was she ready for such a thing? she did not know and only allowed her eyes to flutter close.

ears tall as they waited for the seer's voice.

Íruna drew a slow breath, the weight of Callyope’s encouragement settling over her.

She straightened, her voice quiet but firm, a reflection of her steady faith. “May the gods hear us,” she began.

“May they bless the strength that shields us and the peace that steadies us. Let this offering be a bond—between us, this land, and the balance they have given.”

As her eyes opened, she looked to Callyope, her voice softer now. “Let us fold it, then, and bind it here beneath the roots. A promise to the heart of Forneskja.”

She stepped aside, giving Callyope space to act if she chose, ears tilted forward in quiet anticipation.

she felt peaceful.

she felt ripped raw.

something about hushed words and spirit whispering brought it about her. always an emotional thing, she had thought it might fade. instead she only learned where to point it as she had grown older.

a promise to the heart of forneskja.

so wise a seer she had found.

may the gods hear us, she whispered and folded the ramskin to cover the objects. taking it and placing it deep in a tangle of roots, older than any who walked here.

fade us out in a reply and another very soon? <3

The soft sound of the ramskin folding and the gentle placement of the bundle within the ancient roots felt like the closing of a chapter, a quiet promise sealed in the heart of the Heimtré.

The wind stirred again, threading through the branches above and ruffling Íruna’s thick coat as if the gods themselves acknowledged their offering.

She exhaled softly, her lavender eyes tracing the roots one last time before lifting to meet Callyope’s.

“A bond between us and the land,” Íruna murmured, her voice quiet, steady. “One that will endure.”