Neverwinter Forest [m] My baby don't cry

he let out a low chuckle at her words, the rough sound echoing with amusement. slow, am i? he repeated, shaking his head with a smirk. i call it patience, eydís. sometimes, letting the prey wear itself out is half the battle.

as she pulled the leg from the boar with a satisfying crack, sólhárr’s gaze softened slightly, an old reverence settling over his expression. as we take from the land, we pray in return, he murmured, his tone shifting to something almost sacred. the hunt provides, but it’s a balance—what we take, we honor, and what we hunt, we respect.

he lowered his head in a brief, silent acknowledgment of the boar’s spirit, then looked back at her with a hint of warmth. megi það fylla kviðina okkar og gefa okkur styrk, svo að við heiðrum líf þess með okkar eigin.