Swiftcurrent Creek winter solstice

Akavir’s gaze swept over the man as he stumbled over his words only for a moment—was he always like that, or was it something the frost-maned wolf tended to bring out in him? In any other circumstances it might have amused the Mayfair—right now, it still made him wonder just why Lestan was insisting on staying with he and Arric, when the man had made it more than clear he thought them to practically be barbaric.

“Kvarsheim,” he repeated, his eyes instinctively flickering away from his youthful relative and to the direction of the stones. “I met one of its leaders there when I first returned to the valley… I wanted to make my intentions to settle clear to them.” He paused, the hint of a wry smile pulling to the corner of his lips. “I think I described myself as uninterested in mischief and mayhem. Maybe I jinxed this place right then and there…” Akavir might not have had any interest in it... but it certainly seemed to follow him around these days.