Neverwinter Forest a distant land caused me to linger

Hydra. Suddenly the viper imagery made all the more sense, and with the way Moonspear had come rolling off—the very spark of something else he had felt—things fell remarkably into place. It was not only others that were inhertantly cruel, but the gods themselves. They surely must have jested tonight, though thus he kept to himself and left to linger at the back of his mind for another time. For sleep, even. It had not even been days ago he had been eyeing that monolithic structure of staggering mountains, wondering of the links he missed some odd few weeks ago. Bitterly wondering of them, his memory suuplied.

He glossed over where it was that he came from—it didn't matter. It had not been a home so much as a prolonged stay over until he had been raised and capable enough of forging his own destiny. That destiny, it seemed, was locked in a wrestling match if its own, but whether it was been head and heart or the gods reclaiming what was there was anyone's guess.

"It's Dirge," he offered in return, "and you can rest assured that I am capable of carrying my own weight. And conversation, if nothing else." He had done at least that much thus far, barring the obvious sign that he had survived long enough to have made it into winter. Beyond that though, he hadn't entirely figured out the workings of how this nonsense was supposed to go either. She'd made the offer and seemed to tentatively accept his proposal... but now what?

"Should I swear my fealty to you or some such? Or is that reserved for your superior?" If there was an option, he'd rather be her. No telling what the other looked like—he didn't entirely recall who it was in spite of knowing his name and having met him once—and frankly, she was far easier on the eyes than a mystery.