Wild Berry Meadow You're not who's up at night

thanks for starting! ♥ do you mind if i use this for a dark brotherhood quest? specifically the Tongue Over Teeth quest where he has to attempt to recruit her? ( it doesn't have to be successful, just has to be an attempt :P ).

wintersbane wraps up his patrol along blackfeather wood's borders but even though night has long since settled over the wilds and blanketed the land in soft moonbeam light tiredness evades him. instead, he is plagued with a sort of restlessness that tells him if he attempts to sleep that it would not come to him. in lieu of tossing and turning he ventures to the meadow, drawn by the scent of sweet berries. he won't eat them — no, he rather thinks he'll stick strictly to meat from now on — but it is interesting and good to know that the frosts and snowfall that they've already experienced has not killed the meadow.

he grows aware of a scent that is out of place among the sickly sweet perfume of the berries that lingers in the meadow. the scent of a loner. it is the primal urge to protect the woods ( and perhaps a possessiveness that does not belong in the heart of a grunt such as himself ) that drives him to follow her scent trail and seek her out. it does not take the tundrian long to find her; her smoky pelage is easily discernible in the moon's softened light. he lets out a low chuff to announce his presence, though wintersbane had not sought to make his approach stealthy by any means. "you are close to blackfeather woods," he remarks casually, having missed the words she murmured to the moon moments prior ( not that, mind you, he'd have understood them anyway ). the meadow might not be apart of their claim but it neighbors it and that is close enough for wintersbane. "what draws you to the meadow?" he inquires. she has every right to be on the neutral territory and there is no accusation in his tone; merely a curiosity as he seeks to assess her. she is a broad woman, built like him. built like his mother, and curvaceous to boot. wintersbane might've taken a moment to admire her but a different face flashes before his eyes — a split second glimpse; but long enough to ultimately stifle his vain attraction. instead, his gaze remains the expectant and assessing gaze of a sentry sizing up a possible recruit as he awaits her response.