Neverwinter Forest My queen won't feed on milk and honey

@Callyope

Alongside @Solharr, Pangur was not shy in stealing glances at the surroundings, one could swear hazel eyes had begun to sparkle with fascination, the sprawling forest capturing the eye of intrigue. A feeling unidentifiable stirs within as a breeze washes over them, chilled and cold like the winds of Helheim, winter would soon bite this place, but the greenery would never wane. She knew this, conifers were naturally the most stubborn of flóra, unperterbed by the threat of change.

They embraced the change, stayed tall through it all. That sort of resilience was one echoed in the teachings she'd grown with, Pangur saw beauty here, and in many ways it reminded her of the same forests she had called home once, before her legs were spurred to wander. 

Oh, but conifers could not compare, not to the sight of this heart-tree. Pangur even stopped in her tracks to simply look upon it. 

Yggdrasil? Her mind swelled with glee. Wishful thinking, perhaps, but she could feel it in the wind and in the earth beneath her feet. The gods were closer, here. She must stay. When she finished her wonder-struck observation, she'd fall back in pace with the  hárkonungr, limp to the hall of his seiðkona to request her help for this cougar-struck foreleg of hers.

Pangur was eager.

permission granted to PP sol <3

a bone at her paws.

a humming in her throat.

the scent of trouble, of blood, came on the breeze. it mingled with the familiar and the warm. her paws were still bathed in the toiling of her work, dirt and earth rich in scent upon her. she practically rushed herself into movement!

yet it was not the blood of hárkonungr. there is a woman here. strange and smelling of things sharper than the earth scent that callyope carried. her heart was a wild thing in her chest. still she managed to compose herself enough to softly usher off her beloved.

seiðkona was made for this work.

let me, she meant to step in line with the wounded now, to lead her to a resting place in the shelter of the tree. you must be so quick a hunter, to survive such a sharp cutting.

Pangur accepted the help easily, courtesy of the sting, vicious and angry as it was, she limped over to where she was directed, a good patient, always. Hárkonungr had failed to mention the beauty of this Seiðkona, oh surely blessed by Freya, Pangur admired the way she took her limb forward to examine, and breathed care in every word. 

Maybe wanderer had just been wandering too long. She missed being among other women. 

Oh yes, I am lucky, you see? I knew that I would be successful, but ah, there is always a cost. She kept her grin plastered to her golden face, kept her words lightened and playful, her head drawn to the side in feigned dramatics but I am quick no longer! Not maimed as this... You are lovely to help, Seiðkona

always a cost!

she wondered if this wounded hunter knew how heavy her words laid. callyope felt them echo across every dark part within her. every part unseen or untouched.

it is my honor to heal such brave hunters!

it was good to keep the topics light while she rummaged things for healing. at the very least, things to cover the wound once they cleaned them.

i cannot send you off into the world even wrapped up. she confessed but held warmth. i would have you find healing here in forneskja for however long this takes — perhaps even after. there was something humored dancing across her features now.

Your hospitality is.. appreciated. You had no need to help me, but you did. For this, Pangur will repay you tenfold. It is only right. Her tone was sincere and soft until her proclaimation at the end, for this, there was vigour. I will be no burden of yours. Tell me.. what is this place for you? I wish to know what might be needed of me.

She let her work, watched with curiousity and impress. I am a singer, and storyteller. I will be a bad hunter for a while, but I can offer this in its place. I decorate, too. Pretty flowers for all your nice dens. She'd laugh, trying to be still. If she were to stay, she would be a frequent patient.

no need?

my spirit has need to help you. something sweet and slow like honey. she wished now to make this woman comfortable. to lay her upon a boar pelt — she gestured to such now, prepared to help lay pangur down if needed.

and this place has need for one like you. she confessed now with a growing smile. while you heal, tell your stories and sing your songs. how good it would be for the spirit of a healing one. better more for those who walked. it might entice visitors.

pangur's presence will be repayment.

cobwebs messily gathered but she knew their stickiness might hold to the leg.

Her spirit too, was guided towards others; Pangur could feel nothing but joy that the gods allowed their paths to cross. Lucky, for if the cougar had not sliced through her, she would not have been here to see any of this place, or meet its people. 

'This place has need for one like you.' She said, and Pangur would've bloomed were she a flower. Instead, her ears simply perked, and her smile tore wider, much as her cuts stung. She followed the direction, lowering herself and keeping her leg out for the woman to work with. I will give to you all that I am. I think... that this place is special. My spirit is one that gives. I wish to give to this place, whatever I can. I will sing your songs for you, Seiðkona. Pangur spoke softly as she let her work away.