Neverwinter Forest starshine

íruna halts. leaving snow to scatter in her wake, weak to her large frame. eyes of icemelt narrow slightly as she looked upon the fireman, sharp as the winter wind. his teasing smirk is met with a scoff, and a quick swat of her tail to his flank.

the gods’ will is not something to be rushed. their plans unfold in their time, not ours.

still... she cannot deny that, despite her reluctance to wed, the sögumaðr is strong. and a man of strength is one that íruna does not turn eye away from. a man of the gods, devout in his faith. her eyes tail away from sólhárr and into the distant ice of neverwinter, a soft hum upon her lips.

the sögumaðr is wise, she knows this, and side glances at the man she moves alongside. and i am a woman of my gods; should they will it, i will heed. but perhaps it is he who must prove himself. her chin lilts upwards, a sort of defiance in her stare.

she is a woman of drákensvágr; her love is not easily won, nor is her paw.