Neverwinter Forest eat your heart,

íruna lifts her head at the sound of his chuff, eyes softening as rökkur steps into view. his approach is not unwelcome; in fact, he is comforting. when his nose brushes the crown of her head, she does not pull away. instead, she leans into him, her shoulder pressing against his, welcoming the sync of muscle upon muscle. in a gesture of quiet acceptance. her hum carries on, steady and unbroken, until it fades naturally, giving way to words: it is a tune my mother used to sing to me, she hums to the man. she tilts her head slightly, looking up at him now. she says: one of my earliest memories, nestled at her side, listening to her voice. there is a faint smile that curves her lips, distant for only a moment. how she misses her mother.

íruna moves then, her attention briefly shifting to her cache. she nudges the herbs gently, ensuring they are still intact before pulling the covering back over them. it is a habit, this care, this attention to detail, but it is not where her mind lingers now. no, her thoughts are firmly rooted in the man at her side, the warmth of his body. she turns to him fully, eyes searching his face for answers.

and you? she asks at last, a soft courtesy to the man. what brings you here, rökkur mánison? her tone is light, almost teasing, now. though it drifts when she notices the more... serious tone his face undergoes. dread fills her stomach, swallowed up within a black abyss.