Neverwinter Forest there's no crowds in the street,

íruna’s breath tightens in her chest, a quiet ache that is all consuming. she cannot look away, even as she feels her heart churn like a storm-tossed sea. so close to him now, she feels every word he speaks ripple through her, sinking deeper than they should. there is a heat in his words, a quiet passion, that pulls her forward even as she holds herself still. and yet she knows—she cannot tell him. not now, not yet. it is not her place to reveal what the gods have written for them. so she says, instead: i have always prayed for forneskja, for the gods, it is now the softest of murmurs she speaks with, looking into the eyes of fate himself. but never for myself. never for what i might want.

her icy blue eyes hold his, unblinking, searching for answers even as her own thoughts rage within her. she feels the weight of her role, of the gods’ will, pressing down on her shoulders, but it is a weight she has carried before. what unsettles her now is the realization that he might one day share it with her. that they might be bound by something far greater than either of them. you have given me much to think about, rökkur, she continues softly, and there is gratitude in her words. she cannot say more—cannot tell him that his words have steadied her in ways she did not expect. that, in his presence, the path ahead feels less like a duty and more like a promise. her tongue is bound by the gods, by the knowledge she must carry until the right moment.

she exhales slowly, her breath curling in the cold air, and takes a small step back. the space between them is still charged, alive with something unspoken but undeniable. she wonders if he feels it too—the pull of something larger than themselves, the beginnings of a bond that neither can name yet. but she fears that if their touch lingers any longer, that she might break. thank you, she whispers to him and trusts the gods to carry forth her voice to him, for reminding me that even those who serve must sometimes ask. her eyes flick away for a brief moment, gathering herself, before returning to meet his again. she cannot say what she truly feels, cannot share the secret of the gods’ will that burns in her chest. but as she looks at him, at the warmth in his scarlet gaze, she knows she will hold that secret until the gods see fit to reveal it. for now, she will wait, and she will watch. because though her fate is already decided, she wonders—will he accept it when he knows? will he choose to stand at her side, as the gods intend?

a huff leaves her, expelling the weight from the berth of her chest and she lets her icy eyes rest upon him. she dares not speak, instead, basking in the silence that now befalls them. he feels close, and yet they are still worlds apart. íruna swallows her anxieties and thus places forth her trust in the gods. perhaps, she will seek council with @Callyope. trust in her sister the thoughts that swell and corrupt her mind. that trouble her. she blows a whisper out and steps forth again, to press nose to rökkur's strong shoulder, to feel the thrum of power beneath his dark coat, and she shudders. find me again, under the moonlight, rökkur mánison. there i will wait for you.

exit iruna - im squealing. tmw your betrothed that doesnt know he's your betrothed is buff AND a man of faith!!