Neverwinter Forest snowtorn

sólhárr hummed low in his throat, the sound deep and contemplative as he watched her grin with that wild energy that seemed to define her.

ah, i see why she puts you to work, he said with a teasing lilt, his gaze steady on ylva. a hawk must always have purpose, lest she grow restless. and restless hawks tend to make mischief. perhaps seiðkona knows this better than most.

his ear flicked as he regarded her more seriously now, the amusement in his tone tempered by genuine curiosity. what is it you like to do, ylva? if the choice were yours—what tasks would bring you the most honor? what would you claim as your strength in forneskja?