Haunted Wood there is no god

there is a voice that calls out to him in a tongue that takes him a prolonged moment to process. not the tundrian of his home, that is as familiar to iku-turso as drawing a breath. ...but nothing about these foreign lands is familiar and for a longer moment — a handful of heartbeats — the tuhatsarvi considers continuing on his undetermined path and ignoring the words of the stranger —

he never was one for talking. it hadn't been his role in enok tundra. to be warborn meant he had one purpose: to kill. to protect, if one was feeling generous about the bloodied work that he did.

golden gaze scours the writhing shadows to fall upon the pale sylph in the distance. ask — the tuhatsarvi speaks, voice rough like the land he hails from; thick and raw from general disuse. likely, he had no answers for the woman but something about this encounter bid him to speak. what, he couldn't say and was not interested in investigating within himself.