Neverwinter Forest you're so art deco,

sólhárr stood silently for a moment, watching rökkur’s expression shift as he took in the sacred glen. the way the moonflowers glimmered faintly under the break in the canopy seemed to draw something deep from the shadowed man—admiration, reverence. sólhárr saw it, and it pleased him. perhaps he had chosen wisely in bringing rökkur here.

no” sólhárr replied at last, his voice steady and calm. he shook his head slowly, his gaze lingering on the pale blooms encircling the boulder. it does not have a name. his golden eyes flicked to rökkur, holding him in a quiet but pointed stare. perhaps it’s waiting for one.

he stepped closer to the boulder, his paw brushing against the cool stone, as though testing its solidity. this place feels... timeless. untouched, he continued, his tone thoughtful. it should have a name that honors its spirit, something worthy of the norns light. he paused, letting his words sink in before adding, i’ll leave that to you.

sólhárr turned to rökkur fully now, his stance open but firm. if you can name it, you can hold it. keep it safe, protect it. his voice carried a subtle weight, testing the man before him. if you take this on, this place will be yours to guard—not for yourself, but for all who seek its peace.

he tilted his head slightly, a faint glint of challenge in his gaze. so, what will you call it, rökkur?