Shadewood the wood's labyrinth

Qvasir tilted his head slightly, studying Cormorant with a quiet intensity, the faintest flicker of intrigue playing across his otherwise impassive face. The scoff and chuckle didn’t quite align with the weight of the man’s words, but that wasn’t surprising. Few carried their burdens so openly.

Death’s a loyal companion, Qvasir remarked, his tone dry yet not unkind. Always a step behind, closer than we’d like but never far enough to forget.

He shifted his stance, his gaze sweeping briefly over the horizon before returning to Cormorant. There was something measured in his demeanor, a weight to his next words. You’re free to carry it alone, if that’s your way. But if you’re tired of the solitude... come with me.

It wasn’t an offer laden with grandeur or promises of safety—just a path forward, shared in silence if that was what Cormorant preferred. Qvasir’s golden eyes lingered, steady and unyielding, leaving the decision in the other’s paws.