Neverwinter Forest sarsen moon

y’var’la didn’t move when he lunged—didn’t startle, didn’t even blink. she merely watched, expression hollow and still as standing water while the goat shrieked and was felled by the mongol’s teeth. it smelled at once of copper, sharp metallic on her tongue and smeared across his maw. he stood over it like a priest at sacrifice.

he was pretty in all shades of red, it seemed. her lip curled slightly, not in distaste, but in something keener, appraising. not a flinch to the violence—she’d seen worse by candlelight, heard worse in darker chambers. her gaze slid to his face as he raised it, red-wreathed, the way a king might wear laurels.

she dipped her head in respect as she walked close, curled loosely at his side. her tongue swept once along the edge of her teeth, then she lowered herself, crouching beside the kill, her shoulders folding inward like a hawk at roost. her nose brushed once, then she chose cleanly, tearing with precision—no need for more mess. she was methodical about her cuts, near ceremonial, but her eyes never left him.

“jamukha,” she echoed around a mouthful. the name settled like a stone on her tongue. “i am y'var'la.” she swallowed. licked her lips.
“if you lie about your message, he’ll know. solharr doesn’t keep fools. nor do i.” her voice, though even, was edged—a velvet wrapped warning. her gaze flicked, feline, inviting in the most dangerous sense. “what does your qaidu want of us?”