Neverwinter Forest there's no crowds in the street,

she does not interrupt, letting him weave his explanations like the threads of a tapestry. her head tilts slightly at his dry remark, the faintest hint of amusement flickering in her expression, yet and though it is tempered by the calm gravity she always carries. above all else, she is there to reassure the man.

that is her duty now. so she steps forth, close to him, seeking no permission for she does not need it. he does not know this yet, she does not think, but the woman is in no mood for idle. she must be active. strong heart, strong body, she lets her fur meld to that of his shoulder, and glimpses at him. starfi hlustanda máni's er virðingarvert. a nose comes to kiss the man on the cheek, before brushing through the dark fur of his head to root towards his ear. það er aðeins rétt að þú fylgir leiðsögninni sem hún veitir, jafnvel á þeim nóttum þegar skýin fela hana frá okkur.

she lets her voice lower as she regards the man, pulling back face from his so that she does not overwhelm him with her touch. it is not meant to be imposing, but instead, warming. comforting. beneath this midnight's embrace, at the side of her to be, she is nothing but welcoming. and though she is a warm woman, she is soft by no means. her voice is now rough as she speaks to him, stern in only the way a steady wife could be.

for that is what she will be to him. steady, not soft. she is strength at his side and will keep his head from dropping from beneath máni's protection.

ég vona að þú leyfir ekki vetrinum að halda þér niðri lengi, rökkur mánison.