Neverwinter Forest morsgol

AW but maybe @Reilly?

the morning was quiet, save for the soft rustling of leaves that shifted in the gentle breeze. the sun's first light crept across the frost-covered ground, casting long, golden beams that stretched through the skeletal trees of the territory. sólhárr stood atop a rise, the frost crunching beneath his paws as his golden eye surveyed the land.

the land stretched endlessly before him, a kingdom he was meant to guard, to guide. and yet here he stood, rooted like a tree, lost in the memories of the unranked members of his pack. tightening his jaw, sólhárr forced his gaze forward, his resolve hardening.

Winter encased the forest much like a snow globe—decadent and ethereal in a way that any could appreciate, surely, but to the fae-wolf, nothing more could compare to it.

Still, it did not settle the restlessness that crawled along her skin.

Studying the wolves of Forneskja had given her a moment of internal resilience and introspect. They enthralled her—but she was not one of them—though such a truth did not sadden her.

When honeyed eyes caught the proud form of the newly wedded man, a wisp of a smile pulled at her lips, despite the gleam in his eyes and the clench of muscle upon his features. She did not watch him long—instead, the wisp of a woman trailed closer, quietly settling a respectful distance to the man she had chosen as a leader for her—her own head bowing lower as she looked to the direction he sought now—her quiet an invitation to share what was on his mind in this moment.

sólhárr lifted his head at the quiet approach, his single golden eye settling on the woman with the weight of measured appraisal. the snow crunched softly beneath her steps, her movements light. she was no stranger here, yet still an outsider in ways that mattered.

reilly, he greeted, voice a low rumble, warm as a hearth but steady as the mountain beneath them. his tail flicked once, a brief acknowledgment of her presence, before his gaze returned to the distant line of trees.

for a moment, he did not speak, content in the silence that stretched between them, but then—what do you see? a simple question, yet something searching beneath it. he was not a man prone to idle words; if he asked, it was because he wanted to know.

There was a moment before he spoke—but never could one forget the presence and power that emanated from the forest king near her. Only the faintest crease of her brow was given at first—contemplation as she considered his words.

“From where I was born… A man like you would have been likened to Cernunnos. God of the forest and wild animals. It might have been a lonely existence among my kin, though. Revered—but lonely. You have built hearth and home here—the Sidhe—the Nornir,” she offers, recalling one of the words he had used to describe the spirits of the woods, “would have accepted nothing less as such.”

With this, she gave only a moment pause, and then continuing: “It has been an honor to witness your culture and family…. To see that the forest and spirits are given their appreciation from others than my own folk.”

sólhárr regarded her with a quiet warmth, the weight of her words settling deep into his chest like embers catching fire. reverence, he understood; loneliness, too. he had felt it keenly once, before forneskja had become what it was now—before they had found each other beneath these towering trees.

he exhaled, a low hum of amusement threading through his breath. the forest welcomes you, too, he said, the smile that crossed his scarred muzzle slow but certain. it has watched you, seen your steps among the trees. you walk with respect. that is good.

his golden eye flicked to her, sharp but not unkind. but a home is not given. it is earned. his voice rumbled, expectant, not unyielding. it is time you earn your place here.

there was no cruelty in the words, no test to break her, only the simple truth of forneskja. he had seen her, her quiet reverence, her patience with the land. now it was time for her to stand among them—not as a guest, but as one of their own.

It was keenly noted by the gentle woman his chosen words—‘the forest welcomes you, too.’ The forest, but not necessarily the wolves that laid down to it each night to rest weary hearts and minds—and next he continued—a time to earn herself among their ranks.

A pale paw lifted to brush at the edge of her cheek a moment before resettling—eyes flickering to him with a warmth. She did not take his words like a blade meant to harm—she knew them for what they were... Encouragement.

To watch Solharr and Callyope come together in union—to see the wolves named for the Moon and Forneskja celebrate as one. All of it warming and welcoming—

—but to be welcomed did not mean to belong. She cast him a sideways glance once more before settling to the vision below—proud land—proud wolves. She liked it here. But she did not remain rooted here. “Is that my path, though?” A genuine question presented—she had come to them to learn. But what then?

sólhárr swallowed, the weight of her question settling between them. he looked at her, the pale glow of her eyes catching in the shifting light, and he nodded.

i believe you have much to learn here, he said, voice low, thoughtful. he was not a man of endless words, nor did he pretend to be. but he saw things clearly, felt them in his bones. reilly had a purpose, even if she had not yet unearthed it.

becoming a seer will grant you access.

it was the truth. a seer was not just a title—it was a path, one carved from devotion and trust, from wisdom learned and shared. the spirits spoke in many ways, and those who listened, truly listened, could walk the path with clarity.

his gaze flicked back to the land stretching before them, where the earth met the sky, where the breath of the forest stirred. he did not look at her again, not yet.

if that is the path you choose.

Solharr revealed to her a pragmatic side—unphased by her own question to where she might fit in within the world. It was not a decision of finality he presented—but if she were to continue to learn more of the Forneskja wolves, she would need to contribute more.

She took his words as invitation to continue to do so—lifting her paler nose to the wind as it brushed past, as if it presented her a soothing touch of comfort. “What use can I present to Forneskja as a seer?”

sólhárr studied reilly, his one good eye steady and unreadable. she was thoughtful, measured in her words, asking not just to take, but to understand what it meant to give.

a wise question. a good question.

a seer does not only see the omens, he rumbled, shifting his weight as he looked past her to the vast stretch of his claim. they must also see what others cannot. read the land. the stars. the spirits that whisper through the trees.

his gaze flicked back to her, measuring. forneskja honors those who listen. those who make sense of what others ignore. he gave a small, approving nod. if you are to become a seer, you will not just learn the ways of omens and visions. you will learn to track prey by the wind, to find the safest paths through the ice, to know when the seasons will change before they do.

he let the weight of his words settle before adding, there is wisdom in the past. in the dead. in the bones of the earth itself. if you would make yourself of use to forneskja, you must hear them all.

a pause, then the ghost of a smirk tugged at his lips. do you believe you can?

He questioned her—on the belief she may hold of herself. The trace of a smile limned her lips—youth and vigor were rampant enough within the soul of the pale she-wolf that she believed without the trace of a doubt her ability to do as he spoke—

—it was the why, she ruminated upon.

The path he set before her did not disinterest her. The tilt of her muzzle given, she embraced what he said—mind envisioning herself in such a way as she aged each year. Keeper of omens—visions. The study of stars and to honor the dead…

… Until she herself was but bone, scattered upon the earth. Perhaps, even, in these very woods?

Disconnect burned within her—she tampered it down, chin drifting upward to better study Solharr before her. “I have never doubted my abilities,” she murmured, amusement teasing her voice. “Do you have someone you wish me to learn from?”

solharr watched her quietly, the ghost of a grin tugging at the edges of his scarred maw. he admired her boldness—how easily she wore belief in herself. such conviction would carry her far, perhaps farther than even she knew.

i do, he rumbled, nodding once toward the north, where the shadows of their gathering lingered beyond the trees. iruna. she was born under the old moons. her blood runs thick with the knowledge of omens and dust. she will teach you what cannot be hunted with teeth.

his gaze lingered on reilly, steady and assessing, as though searching her soul for cracks, for signs of doubt. finding none, his approval flickered as bright as dawn.

learn well. when the time comes, the stars will call on you. and i expect you to answer.

then, with a quiet huff, solharr turned his gaze skyward, as though already imagining the day her voice would join theirs in the songs of the dead.