Neverwinter Forest and i sit on the curb 'cause it's the prettiest night

sólhárr’s eye gleamed with approval, a flash of gold catching the light as ranveigh surged forward. her speed was impressive—bold, like the sea crashing against stone. he welcomed it.

she clipped his cheek, teeth brushing the scarred ridge there, but he did not flinch. instead, a low rumble built in his chest—satisfaction. she had spirit.

as she pivoted for her second strike, he shifted his weight, planting his forepaws firmly into the earth. when she snapped forward, he met her—shoulder bracing into her chest, aiming to knock her off balance.

good, he grunted, breath rough like gravel. but faster.

he pushed back, circling to keep her from the open ground, testing her instincts. his muscles coiled—ready, steady—inviting her next move.