Honeyed Pasture She just sleeps through the night

trade: spiritualist

he paused, then. who? his voice dropped, and norse laced his pink tongue, thick and rumbling. the moon? the stars? his máni? he looked at her figure with a tilted head and knitted brows. how could one be afraid of such a thing? discomforted?

rökkur continued behind her. why are you afraid? a careful tone. gentle words. curious, though somewhat unbelieving. he took solace in the light above them. the fact that someone could think differently was a shock. something that challenged the views he'd been raised upon. a sentence that rocked his world.

just, he thought. how?