Neverwinter Forest Each morn we are born again

for @Solharr

Íruna’s voice carried softly through the trees, a lilting melody that rose and fell with the rhythm of her steps. The song was an old one, a hymn of her people, its words a quiet tribute to the gods and the land.

With her jaws gently holding a bundle of freshly picked herbs, Íruna padded toward the small cache she had dug beneath the roots of her ancient tree.

She stopped, her lavender eyes lifting to see Sólhárr stepping through the underbrush. A patrol, it seemed, though his presence still caught her off guard.

Íruna blinked, then quickly adjusted her posture, dipping her head slightly in acknowledgment as her humming trailed off. “Hárkonungr,” she greeted.

Her tail swayed lightly, a faint smile tugging at the corner of her mouth as she moved to fall into step with the large brute. “The forest has been generous today,” she added, gesturing briefly to the herbs. “Plenty of yarrow to fill my stores.”

sólhárr dipped his head, acknowledging the seer with a low rumble of greeting. irúna. her name carried on his tongue like a prayer, steeped in reverence for her gifts and the gods she served. his glacier eyes briefly scanned the bundle she carried, noting the vibrant greens of the yarrow.

the forest favors you, he said, his voice steady as the roots beneath their paws. he stepped closer, the weight of his presence grounding but not imposing. you honor it well, seer.

he allowed a moment of quiet, the rustle of leaves and distant birdsong filling the space between them. does the máni speak through you today? he inquired, his curiosity sincere. what wisdom do the spirits offer?

Íruna’s ears flicked at the sound of her name, eyes warm upon her leader. The faintest smile softened her expression as she inclined her head in return.

“The forest has been kind,” she replied, her voice warm but steady. “And I do what I can to repay it.” She glanced briefly at the bundle of yarrow she spoke through before looking back to him.

At his question, she stilled for a moment, her gaze shifting upward to the canopy above. Light filtered through the leaves in soft beams, dappling the forest floor around them.

“The spirits are quiet,” she said finally, her voice thoughtful. “But not absent. They linger, watching, waiting. The Máni... it speaks not with words, but with light, with shadow. It tells us to look closer, to see what we might overlook in our haste.”

sólhárr stepped closer, his presence steady, a towering yet calming force amid the dappled light. his gaze lingered on the yarrow she had gathered before shifting upward to follow hers, drawn to the patterns of light and shadow the máni cast through the canopy.

the gods are never wrong, he murmured, the certainty in his voice a grounding truth. if they bid you look closer, then there is something they wish you to see. something that cannot be ignored.

he crouched slightly, lowering his muzzle to better examine the herbs she held. i can help you, if you would allow it, he offered, his glacial eyes returning to meet her lavender gaze. the gods chose you to hear their whispers, and they chose me to guide this land. together, perhaps, we find what they ask of us.

sólhárr paused, thoughtful, his voice taking on a contemplative note. your visions—they linger, do they not? like the wind that stirs the trees, unseen but felt. i wonder... do they guide you to something here in forneskja, or do they call you beyond?

Íruna held his gaze as he stepped closer, his towering presence neither intimidating nor imposing but steady, grounding. She could see, now, the appeal of the man in the eyes of her Seiðkona.

“They are never wrong,” Íruna agreed, her voice low and even, though her lavender eyes gleamed with something warmer.

His next words gave her pause, his contemplative tone echoing the very thoughts she had carried since her arrival.

“They linger,” she said softly, her expression turning thoughtful. “Not with words, but with weight. As if they are watching, waiting for something to unfold.” She looked back to him.

Her tail swayed slightly, a gentle motion that betrayed her comfort in his presence. “Tell me, Sólhárr,” she asked, her tone light but sincere. “Do you think the gods call us to where we are most needed, or where they wish us to be?” It was not a question meant to challenge, but to simply know.

sólhárr’s gaze lingered on íruna, thoughtful and searching. the seer’s words hung between them, heavy and yet carried with an ease that only she seemed to possess. he exhaled slowly, glancing toward the canopy above, where the light of the máni filtered through the branches.

i don’t know, he admitted, his voice low and steady. the gods… they see farther than we do. know more than we ever could. but whether they call us to where we’re needed, or simply where they will us to be, i cannot say.

his glacier eyes returned to her, softened by contemplation. i only know that i am needed here. the forest, forneskja, my people—they are my purpose now.

he paused, the faintest crease forming between his brow. and you, íruna? do you believe you are where the gods wish you to be?

Íruna’s lavender eyes lingered on Sólhárr as he spoke, her expression soft yet intent. His admission, so steady and unguarded, resonated deeply, and she found herself nodding faintly as he finished.

“I believe,” she began slowly, her voice thoughtful, “that the Gods’ will is not always clear to us. But perhaps it isn’t meant to be. Perhaps part of their purpose is trusting us to find meaning in the paths they set before us.”

She glanced down briefly as their walk ceased, letting her head drop to place the yarrow at her paws. “I did not expect to find myself here, in these woods, among your people,” she continued. “But the Gods have brought me here, and I cannot ignore the feeling that this is where I am meant to be.”

She smiled up at the large Sólhárr, letting her eyes prod across the etched visage he wore.

“You care for this place, for your people. It speaks to the Gods’ wisdom, placing you here as their Hárkonungr. You are chosen, Sólhárr. And I believe it is my duty and utmost honor to serve the chosen of the Gods'.”

sólhárr felt a deep sense of satisfaction swell within him as íruna’s words lingered in the stillness between them. her affirmation was not merely flattering—it was affirming. chosen. it was a heavy word, one he had carried silently, a responsibility etched into his very being. but to hear it spoken aloud by another was like stepping into sunlight after a long shadowed walk.

the gods’ will is clear, he said, his voice steady, a quieter pride threading through his tone. i feel it in every step i take here, in the way the máni’s light finds its way through the trees. this is no accident. i was meant to be here.

he allowed his gaze to drift to the towering trees surrounding them, the sentinels of forneskja. their shadows stretched long, mingling with the soft glow of the moonlight filtering through the canopy. it is not an easy thing, to be chosen, he admitted, his voice softer now, the weight of his role evident in his words. to stand where others cannot, to hold what others will not. but it is the life the gods have shaped for me. and i will honor it.

his glacial eyes returned to hers, the intensity of his gaze tempered by something gentler. you are here now because the gods willed it, he said, stepping closer, his voice quieter but no less certain. perhaps they saw something in you, just as they did in me. perhaps you were meant to walk beside elska, to help shape what forneskja will become.

he hesitated, allowing a breath to pass between them. do you feel it, íruna? the weight of the gods’ gaze? it is not a burden we carry alone.

Íruna listened, her lavender eyes steady on Sólhárr as his words filled the space between them. The conviction in his voice carried weight, and yet it wasn’t oppressive—it was inspiring. She let his affirmation settle, the pride and certainty woven into it stirring something within her.

“I feel it,” she said after a moment, her voice low but sure. “A presence, constant and unseen, that guides my steps and steadies my paws. It has brought me to this place, to you, to your people.”

Her tail swayed lightly, a gesture of thought as much as ease. “To be chosen,” she echoed softly, her words fluid with understanding. “It is not an easy thing. You are right about that. It is a weight that cannot be ignored, but one that we carry because it is asked of us.”

Íruna took a slow breath, glancing briefly toward the canopy above, where the light of the Máni filtered softly through the trees. “But I do not believe we were meant to carry it alone. The gods bring others into our lives to remind us of that. To share in the burdens, the joys, the purpose.” Her gaze returned to his, calm but sincere. “Perhaps that is why I am here. To walk this path with you, to serve Forneskja and its people in whatever way I can.”

She stepped closer, offering him the faintest touch of her nose to his shoulder. “I see it in you, Hárkonungr. The strength, the care, the faith. The gods’ will is evident in the steps you take, the choices you make. And I will do what I can to honor them, just as you do.”