Neverwinter Forest where the moon sets

trade: spiritualist

and he smiled, then, for he did not need the gods to know what must be done about callyope: speak with her, sólhárr, he said, eyes creased, though glittering with knowledge. and then he would raise his paw to the kings' chest. the gods rarely visit our physical plane — i can only translate their whispers. they will not speak of callyope, but even i know that you must reach out to her.

he pulled his paw back, sitting down upon his rump in an almost graceful manner, painted by the moonlight and all of its' holiness. she works hard — and even the gods will commend her for that, but do not allow her to burn herself out, and he closed his eyes, thinking. but there was no prophecy, no interpretations, just the truth of any relationship: you must support her if you wish to marry her.

rökkur opened his eyes, scarlet hues friendly, almost humorous, at the king coming to the spirits for guidance on his marriage. the gods do not care for situations between mortals, only that the scales of the world are balanced. but he said it with a gentleness, an appreciation that made their absence feel comfortable. like they were being watched from a safe distance. monitored, but not controlled.

and then a patient tail tap against the ground, a tilted head, a smile upon his face: they all marked the end of his speech, awaiting a response, or perhaps further question, from the king painted in fire and ice. curious as to what he would wonder next.