Neverwinter Forest eat your heart,

he knows.

the realization sends a shock through her, sharp and jarring, and her breathing comes shallow, uneven. the panic is there, clawing at the edges of her composure, but she does not let it take her. she cannot. instead, she grounds herself in the warmth of his touch, the quiet assurance of his words, and the steadiness of his presence.

he is not angry. this is what she clings to.

íruna exhales slowly, letting her eyes flutter closed for a brief moment as she takes in the scent of him, the closeness of him, the calm he seems to radiate even now. her words come in the form of an exhale and the faintest nudge of her nose to the side of his snout. i am sorry, rökkur, her voice is warm as the rosemary they had bathed in only nights before. i did not mean to keep it from you.

her gaze searches his face for understanding, for forgiveness. her voice dips further, quieter, as though the confession is a secret meant only for him. i could not bring myself to tell you. i did not wish for you to feel... cornered. trapped. her gaze falters briefly, dropping to the ground before rising again to meet his. there is a rawness in her eyes now, a flicker of something deeply human, deeply afraid. the gods, they can be cruel sometimes. they bind us to paths we did not choose, and i... she pauses, her breath hitching. i did not want you to feel bound to me out of duty.

her voice softens further, barely above a whisper now. if we are to walk this path, i want it to be more than just what the gods demand of us. i want it to be... ours.