Neverwinter Forest störf

Y’var’la watched Sólhárr depart, his form retreating into the pale winter mist, his words lingering like the echo of a bell. Make it worthy. The command rang in her ears, heavy with expectation. She had no intention of disappointing the gods—or the Harkonungr.

Pangur’s voice broke through her thoughts, brimming with excitement as always. Y’var’la turned her head slightly, her cool gaze meeting the golden wolf’s vibrant one. The contrast between them was stark, like flame meeting frost, but it was a dynamic that often bore fruit. Pangur’s energy, her endless enthusiasm, was contagious even to her.

“Together,” Y’var’la replied, her tone measured, though a faint smile tugged at the corner of her lips.  It wasn’t often Y’var’la invited such open collaboration, but this task was sacred. “The flowers will take the most effort. We’ll need to gather enough moonflowers to line the altar and more to scatter across the glen. They bloom strongest under the moon, so we should start as night falls.”

She paused, her gaze drifting to the snow-dappled trees around them, already imagining the glen transformed. “The ivy can be gathered during the day—it’s hardy even in winter. And the spider silk… that will require care.”

---

super late im so sorry :') feel free fade into something new!