Neverwinter Forest you're so art deco,

trade: spiritualist

and the king had washed his doubts away, just as he washed away his own when he had gone to pray to his gyðja. he would hear rökkur's stories, and a warmth bloomed within him. a nod that, rather than his usual firmness, was grateful. thankful.

he was quiet, then. listening to his king's words. a newfound loyalty that ran deeper than the simple respect he had held for the man before. gentle voice assured him. gave him confidence. inspired him. he already knew what he wished to share first: the tunglspíra and its importance. the power that his people had revered it for.

when sólhárr had finished speaking, the shadow took a breath. in my homeland, the tallest spire had a name, he moved closer to the boulder, then. circling around it. observing it. though the mánilundur has been given her title, i believe it is only fit for her totem to receive a name, as well.

as it was the boulder that he would sit upon when he wanted to be closer to the moon. this was no spire, but it was something. it is the tunglhjarta. the moons heart, he looked up to sólhárr, then. strong like her soul. firm like her strength. and it sat upon the earth, vulnerable, just as the moonchildren were beneath the gaze of their mother.

he drew closer to his king, then. thank you for this, sólhárr, his voice, low, truthful. eyes bearing all of his spirit; his past, his presence, and his future, within this grove. this gift means more to me than even the wisest could ever comprehend.

happy to fade with your next post, if you like! :D