Qeya River the dark knight

much long awaited starter for @Blackfell lmao

the winds were calmer in the valley. not biting and bitter cold as they'd been in the peaks where emýr had descended. they'd been his haven, despite their treacherous slopes and harsh climate. 

it was fitting for him to have been holed up in the mountains, as a man who craves solitude. but alas, he'd overstayed his welcome and the call for something more whispered in his mind, beckoning him to the valleys. 

or rather, a scent. 

a familiar one, and yet, he couldn't put a name to it. it teased him, taunted him, as he tried to place it. it was of a crownore, that much was certain. but whom? 

not kaelith, or any of his other siblings. those scents he would recognize from millions of miles away, and the last he'd seen them was at the gates of winterhelm. 

it makes him feel uneasy. he wants to avoid it, but he's drawn to it. like a moth to a flame. and so he lurks near borders heavily scented, lingering like a phantom. waiting.