Neverwinter Forest There once was songbird, struck songless

sólhárr inclined his head slightly, acknowledging her greeting with the faintest flicker of amusement at her attempt to shape his name with her foreign tongue. she carried herself boldly, and he respected that.

trained to shape words, he rumbled, his voice like distant thunder rolling through the trees. to tell stories, recite tales. not just to sing, but to make others see the world as you do—through beauty of what you could weave.

his amber eye lingered on her briefly, before shifting to the forest around them, as if drawing inspiration from the life teeming in the shadows. or, he added, his tone steady, you can learn healing. how mend flesh, ease pain, and understand the ways of body.

he tilted his head slightly, studying her. both have value, kinusi. but the forest does not rush its own, and neither will i. you may choose, if you wish it. or perhaps you will find another way entirely.

his gaze returned to her, calm and steady.