Neverwinter Forest In the Woods Somewhere

sólhárr’s sharp gaze dropped to the stump moss presented, his breath hitching for a moment before he exhaled an almost inaudible, sorry, under his breath. the sight stirred something unspoken in him, a flicker of sympathy tempered by respect for the way moss carried themselves despite the loss.

but it was the mention of caring for pups that truly caught his attention. his ears pricked forward, his stance shifting slightly, as if the weight of moss’s words had settled differently within him. pups, he murmured, nodding slowly. we could use that. the young need guidance. patience. attention. his words, though gruff, carried an undercurrent of approval.

and then, burial rites. his golden gaze lingered on moss, assessing the weight of their offer. for a moment, sólhárr was silent, a reverent pause that spoke volumes. we do have need for that, he said finally, his voice low, serious. the dead must be honored properly. their spirits guided. this is a task of great importance. the dead would need solace.

a jack of all trades, he echoed the phrase, not hearing it before. he coined it for himself— moss, jack of all trades. you are a gift, it seems.

he straightened, his usual intensity softening just slightly as he regarded moss. you may find your place here, if you wish it. a flicker of something—approval, perhaps—crossed his expression.