Neverwinter Forest warmth

winter swept the land in white and cold blues. snowflakes dance around her. her coat has gotten thicker, but her lips still tremble between each icy breath.

for just a moment, she was home.

one flake grazed the tip of her nose, and the shiver that it sent down her spine reorientated the distracted seer. the heimtré loomed large over her, as if to remind her of its presence. the white flowers of kvildlund surround her too, blending with the snow that escaped the protective shield of the hometree's arms. arms that embraced her, too.

luhtar moved through the cold winter woods. pawsteps of iron and boulder upon earth harsh against the frost-covered earth. the sharp crackle of brittle snow underfoot, he paid it no mind. there was no need for caution here. his broad shoulders rolled as he strode forth, weaving his way through briar and cold tree, holding tight in large jaws the weight of a plump rabbit.

a harsh wind blowing inward slapped him in the face with a scent. familiar. yngvi. sometime since he last spoke with her, and though he'd meant this meal for himself, he is driven by selflessness first. it is his directive to make sure the women of forneskja are cared for, first and foremost. with whelping season swiftly approaching. with a soft grunt, he adjusted his path, the plump carcass swaying slightly as he lumbered toward her scent. the thick fur of his neck bristles slightly against the winter chill, though he is grateful for his thick, pudgy body—granting him warmth and hearth. as he came close to yngvi, he chuffs a warm greeting to the woman, voice a deep timbre within throat.

nearing her, luhtar drops the rabbit at her feet, painting the hardened snowfall in splatters of warm crimson.

he did not ask. he leans in, nose pressing against the soft fur of her throat in greeting.

“eat,” he says.

the chuff was the first warning of the giant's presence. yngvi made the mistake of not heeding the warning, only flicking her ear towards the sound until she was met with a thud at her feet. a rabbit, blood fresh enough to paint the white flowers red.

she's not sure why she's surprised. the bluntness of the offering should've needed no introduction for yngvi to know who it was. the frown that was on her face quickly unfurled when she met luhtar again, and she couldn't stop one corner of her lips from smirking at his tactlessness.
not here. never here. the seer bent to carry the rabbit in her maws. her meditation could wait for a moment. the woman then ran her crown underneath the mountain man's chin to return his gentle greeting, before trotting off — fat rabbit in tow.

i'd anger nornir and seiðkona if i ruined the flowerbed. she chuckled, though a kernel of truth lingered in her words. she had angered the norns enough already, the least yngvi could do is have dinner away from their sacred grounds.
in plain snow, she laid the rabbit, but her interests lied in the man. thank you. whispered before teeth carefully sunk into the supple meat of the rabbit. it was fat enough for the both of them, so the seer extended chunks of it to luhtar before she could allow herself to eat.

he let out a low rumble, almost a hum, at her words. “smart,” he muttered, glancing back toward the flowerbed as they left it behind. “nornir always watching. seiðkona too.” his face settles into a knowing smirk. he would regret to anger seiðkona. she was kind and soft, luhtar had yet to face the womanly wrath surely lurking beneath her kindred demeanor.

luhtar sat across from her, thick tail swishing upon the snowfelt ground. relaxed. calm. he is glad to be in yngvi's presence. to share a meal with her feels comforting, visible in the way the tension upon his shoulders from a long day seems to alleviate. he watches her with quiet eyes, his form sloping downwards, shoulders hunched and head hanging low against a thick chest. a large, hefty paw reaches forth to shuffle the portions she offered him nearer. a cut of lean meat and a thick haunch, he grumbles with please. nodding head in thanks.

thank you. he returns the kind words. he speaks with a soft voice and he does not eat until she has her first bites, and before he reaches to take his own bites, mutters a soft prayer to máni and skadi for guiding his hunt. you kind to share. he says, eyes poking upon her. he rips a few bites from the haunch, one paw holding it firm beneath him so that he might chew at the gristle easier.

how you have settled in? he hums.