Neverwinter Forest starshine

íruna listens, her breath curling faintly in the cold air as she absorbs his words. the warmth of his fur pressed to hers tempers the bitter sting of being left out of this decision. so she walks beside him, the eyes of a strong woman fixed ahead, but her thoughts churn like restless waves.

so it is not hers to question, only to walk. the gods' will, spoken through him, her hárkonungr. she swallows the sharp edges of her pride, forcing herself to see the greater picture, the one he paints with such assuring strokes. his touch, the brief kiss against her hip, catches her off guard, and she glances at him, her expression unreadable for a moment. there is reassurance in the gesture, a reminder of something sacred, and though she does not melt into it, she does not pull away.

her paws kiss into the snow beneath. sögumaðr will know, then, she says, to no one but herself. calming the restless spirit within.  and so it will be. i will be the wife to him that the gods demand of me. strong in body, strong in spirit. her tail sways once, deliberate, as she lifts her chin. i will find pride in our daughter, who will lead with wisdom and the will of the gods. she who will rule alongside the beserkr son of you and seiðkona.

this is the path they have chosen. she must believe it so that she does not cripple beneath the weight of such prospect.