Neverwinter Forest [m] white beak

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it had been hard to walk away, harder than the drengr expected. this filled eivor with equal parts shame and intrigue, and when she went away from moonglow it was to explore these scents more thickly twisted together in a fragrant marriage.

paths moved to a deep forest of rich green, its wildness beautiful beneath the falling of gentle snow which had begun that morning and not abated.

something else had come over the selltooth, and a wry smirk swathed her face when she at last realized that the flames licked too beyond whatever shield she had lifted against it.

a body's betrayal. shimmering, she kept far from the forest's edge and called out in a friendly, booming voice. heil og sæl. i am a traveler from a settlement camped over the mountains. i seek warriors. long has it been since i battled and sang and drank with those who fight. for a time i will hunt. i will tell you of kvarsheim. listen well! it is eivor ranvulf who calls!

and perhaps if answered, she might find among their number suitable sires for a round belly carried back to brattahlíð.

luhtar steps forward from the shadows of the forest, one pawstep after another, heavy against the soft snow of the neverwinter floor. his yellow eyes burn with quiet question as they settle on the stranger. he stops a few paces from her, his breath fogging in the cold air. his eyes poke and prod at her frame.

the pungent smell she carries is not lost on the dregnr.

hail. why you come? his voice comes in a rough, strong chuff; head low amongst muscles of pudgy muscle.

you seek warrior? one stands before you.

a man, strapping-shouldered and with a sharpened look in his eye. his voice rolled as thunder through summer-stormed branches, and the grey light of her eyes approved at once.

"jeg søker en kriger. og kanskje en mann."

"but first, i wish to spar. is this agreeable to you?" did he comprehend the test?

i am both, luhtar rumbles. he does not flinch beneath her gaze, unswerving in the way of the mountains that shaped him. her scrutiny is met with the certainty of a man who knows his strength.

his teeth flash briefly in a grin, his tongue flicking across his maw as a soft chuckle escapes him. the day i deny a spar... is the day i turn from valhalla. his ears rotate thinly upon a blocky head.

he approaches now, stepping past the safety of forneskja's borders. onto neutral land, where they may be judged fairly. like a storm passing through clouds, his voice rolls forth fierce. test me, woman.

a broad smile came to her face; in the manner of a warrior throwing off her armor for a good grapple, she came to stand before him.

he was all-powerful, a young Odin in burnished prime. eivor hoped that the gods watched. watched and blessed.

she ran toward him, fleet; bulling as if she intended to collide with his face yet feinting left at the last, her haunch open to see if speed commanded so strong a man.

as she feints left, he moves fast, having expected something more than just a full on assault. broad shoulders twisting and planting like the roots of a great tree. his weight shifts fluidly, cutting off her angle.

she is fast—faster than any he’s faced in some time. a vulture circling, daring the wolf to keep up. his grin widens, teeth flashing; gnashing now, for the thick fur protecting her neck, an attempt to grab her by the scruff.

after that, he has no idea what he'd do with her. perhaps try to wrangle her beneath him, or hurl her to the ground. throw her off balance. he feels the thrill of a good spar, though, roaring in his veins. the scent she wears only bolsters his resolve, filling him with masculine intent to win.

i can delete if wanted but just a lil cameo <3

someone came to them.

callyope had wanted to welcome them, receive them with warmth. instead she felt as though her head had suddenly been filled with hot air. blushing and overwhelmed by — all of it!

it is good that it is luhtar there, she thinks.

yet very quickly she wished to return back to sólhárr's strong arms.

so why did she linger nearby? watchful and interested. perhaps wondering if forneskja's blood might find itself leaving in this woman after she had come and gone.

ur always deeply welcome! <3

bearlike jaws snapped for her neck fur. eivor twisted to take the teeth closing hot around her shoulder. a spar might have had no aim to kill, but it did not mean a lack of blood and bruises.

a laugh was muffled against his thick ruff as he bore her to the ground. her hindlegs kicked, and eivor writhed under the man until she fit her arms wide around his broad shoulders, cowling herself from throat and grasp like a winterfox pelt.

her teeth were brazen as her tall weight tried to drag down the drengr, trip him into the snow. her growling was loud; eivor clacked their teeth loudly together as muzzles collided, all the while her ashen eyes dancing with the heat of their good wrestle.

luhtar feels the bite of her teeth grazing his ruff, the scrape of her claws against his broad shoulders, and it fuels him like fire to dry wood. she is relentless, a storm embodied, and he cannot help but grin through the tension in his jaw. this woman does not yield—she meets him with every ounce of strength and cunning she possesses.

it’s intoxicating.

you fight like a bear, woman! he growls a rough laugh. as her hindlegs kick and she wraps herself around his shoulders like a snare, he is forced to throw his weight so he might dislodge her. but she's buried close like a tick. luhtar digs his paws into the snow, his muscles straining as he braces against her weight, refusing to give ground. the effort to match her ferocity thrills him.

he leans into the grapple, letting the momentum guide them both to the ground. they writhe in a fit of snow tossed to the gods and snarling, snapping teeth. he would pin her briefly if she let him, before they rise to snarls and clashing shields and axe blows again.

little stalker from the brush...callyope and sólhárr watch like proud parents...skippable!

sólhárr arrived in the quiet way of a wolf who trusted his presence alone to command attention. his golden eye caught the dance of teeth and limbs between the stranger and luhtar, and for a moment, his lips twitched with approval.

drengr, he rumbled low, under his breath. he was out of sight. she knew their tongue, their ways—an unexpected familiarity in a stranger.

his focus shifted, then, to @Callyope, her warmth still lingering against him. she ran right into his arms! a single step toward her closed the distance as he spoke, his voice softer now. look at them dance, he said simply, the faintest hint of amusement in his tone.

but his attention returned to the sparring pair, watching the clash of wills with a quiet intensity, the golden light of forneskja’s blood reflected in his stance.

chortling merrily at the audience

"and you like a bull!" eivor's deep voice insisted from below the strongman. he had a good humour beneath his great brawn; she enjoyed that almost as much as being crushed to the snow below him.

when his massive forelegs pillared her body, their chests pressed together, she let go the snapping for a moment to encircle her arms around that heavy throat almost in a lover's motion, body moving below his own;

her intention discovered in a moment: to collide their skulls with blinding force in a headbutt that hopefully released eivor and started the next season of their spar.

her muscles burned, her body bruised; her chest heaved and her eyes shone with the approval he had gained.

come one , come all!! but maybe dont linger too long...

luhtar’s laughter rumbles low and deep, like thunder rolling over distant mountains, as he meets her force with equal vigor. his breath puffing out in bursts of white against the cold air, mingling with her own plumes.

she is relentless, wild. he is a man stricken.

heads colliding in a vicious butt, they relinquish from one another only briefly—before they collide again, as clockwork, moving in practiced motions about one another. no longer a spar, but the intimate dance of their shared culture. strong legs grappling, teeth clacking together audibly.

luhtar, boldly, makes to lock his jaws about her throat and push her down—but he likewise goes tumbling with her, willingly, to the ground and the snow. and now, there comes a more... suggestive growl, wet on his throat now.

can fade here or timeskip!

at the last, a shoulder was shoved into his jaws; an offering. his breath was hot and the weight of his body a welcome pelt flung out over herself and the snow. slowly she rolled beneath him, relaxed body evincing that their scrap was at an end.

their hearts thundered, stampeding elk snorting billows of steam upon a high and night-dark meadow. 

his eyes held a wild intensity, and now eivor was free to notice more fully the ruddy hues beneath the snowy aspect of his pelt. her grin was quick and easy; she let him watch her as long as he wanted.

"du er veldig kjekk. jeg valgte godt på mange måter," said the drengr without preamble. "ikke vent, oksemann," eivor laughed; "jeg vil ha en fest."

northerners rose together in a clash equally primal, throat bared again for his teeth. it was the trust his warrior's command had earned from a peer upon any wintry battlefield; it was eternally their way.