Neverwinter Forest Twin fish

For @Solharr <3 other tag for ref

It wasn't long before Seastorm found herself caught in the restive airs of a caged animal. Her broken leg kept her confined to a small portion of the woods around where @Catamaran had brought her. The smaller prey animals had already learned to steer clear; Seastorm had taken to slaughtering them with a vengeance, piling up a small cache of her own. Nearly worthless, in practice. It made her feel better to have something of her own, though.

Sometimes there was just nothing to do. Standing up on her hind legs with her single uninjured foreleg propped against a tree trunk, Seastorm was occupying herself with gnawing the bark from the tree. Maybe she would eat it later. Maybe she would piss on it. The possibilities were endless.

sólhárr’s golden eyes narrowed as he stepped into the clearing, his gaze immediately falling on the girl perched against the tree. the unmistakable signs of injury caught his attention first—the awkward weight shift, the telltale stiffness in her posture. this must be the one catamaran had spoken of.

but it was the bark-stripped tree and her gnawing jaws that drew a raised brow from the hárkonungr. he approached with a measured step, his presence calm but unyielding, the air around him carrying a quiet authority.

you must be the girl catamaran brought in, he began, his voice low but firm, each word deliberate. his gaze lingered briefly on her injured leg before flicking to her face. i’d ask you not to gnaw on the trees of the forest, he added, his tone edged with dry humor. they hold more value standing strong than stripped bare.

he paused a few paces away, his eyes briefly scanning the pile of small prey she had accumulated. and you seem resourceful enough to find better things to sink your teeth into, he remarked, nodding toward her cache.

sólhárr’s expression remained neutral as he studied her further. what is your name? he asked at last, his tone softening just slightly. if she was to remain here, he would need to know more than her injury and catamaran’s infatuation.

It was a man of authority who came to her now, a wolf whose scent she remembered well. Now Seastorm took in the auburn fortress of him, the quiet demeanor which promised a slower-burning sort of rage. She studied him in the way she studied all men: wondering what sort of anger he might inflict on her, how she might mold herself in his presence to never let it touch her.

There was always violence just beneath those soft words.

Seastorm reluctantly surrendered her tree, though she'd rather thought the marks a fierce sort of warning to trespassers. Anyone who walked here uninvited would know death waited. She bit her tongue.

Seastorm.

Speak only when spoken to. No questions. She remembered.

callyope tag for mention

sólhárr stepped closer. seastorm. she carried herself like someone who expected the world to strike first. he took in the marks on the tree, the tension in her frame, the guarded edge in her gaze.

sólhárr, he offered simply, his voice even but firm. his gaze lingered for a moment longer, inspecting the set of her injured leg. silence stretched between them as he circled her slightly, not menacing, but with a calculating air, assessing what catamaran had brought into his fold.

you’ll want to see @Callyope, he said after a pause, his tone leaving no room for argument. she is our seiðkona, my wife, and she will treat your leg properly. maybe he was too fast, but the word wife came so naturally.

he straightened, his stance calm yet resolute. you’ll find her near heimtré. his golden eyes locked onto hers once more, the weight of his authority unmistakable. once you're healed, you can mark as many tress on the borders as you wish.

I want to see no one.

I want to see your borders limned in blood.

Again she bit her tongue, her mouth tense and bitter. She tasted salt and iron. Seastorm nodded once, acknowledging the order he'd given. Sólhárr. Callyope. Their names meant nothing to her.

She lowered her head, eyes trained on the man's feet, and waited for him to leave. Catamaran would return soon, she hoped, and escort her wherever she was meant to be. Seastorm was unsettled by the thought of wandering the forest alone.

sólhárr studied the girl for a moment longer, his golden gaze tracing her tense frame. she did not look frightened—there was strength there, simmering just beneath the surface—but anxious, yes. her silence was telling, and he hummed softly, the sound low and thoughtful.

catamaran will return soon, i’m sure, he said finally, his voice steady but distant, as though his words carried more weight than he intended. he wouldn’t bring you here just to leave you to fend for yourself.

he let the quiet stretch for a beat, his gaze lingering on the lowered angle of her head, the way her eyes avoided his own. a flicker of understanding passed through him—though he wouldn’t voice it aloud.

in the meantime, he added, turning slightly as if to leave her with space, tell me how you wound up with that leg.

What could he know of how it felt to be a woman left to fend for herself? There was more than one way to be abandoned, more than a dozen ways to be endangered, more than a hundred ways she'd always had to fend for herself. What would a man like him know about that?

Seastorm trusted the bounty hunter to protect her health, her body, as he already had, but only for the value he saw in it. In all other ways the assassin was her own keeper. Maybe she preferred it this way — but what would a girl like her know about that?

I lost a fight.

Purposefully reticent now; her gaze fell to her feet and stayed there.

sólhárr crouched low, his golden eyes steady as they settled on the young girl, her words lingering in the air like a shadow of pain she wouldn’t name. he didn’t press her for more, his approach deliberate and quiet, his broad frame lowering to meet her on her level. the snow swirled faintly around them, the world muted in the cold.

all wolves lose fights, he said, his voice low and even, the weight of his broken common tongue softened for her. not all... stand after.

his gaze dipped briefly to her small, defiant figure, her stare fixed firmly on her paws as if the ground itself might offer her solace. he didn’t demand her to look at him; instead, he let his presence fill the space, unyielding and solid, something she could lean on if she chose.

you stand, he added, a quiet acknowledgment, not meant to console but to remind her of what she had done. this matters.

sólhárr held his ground, unmoving, the cold biting at his fur but not his resolve. he couldn’t fix what had broken in her—only she could—but he could offer this moment, this steady assurance that the world had not claimed her yet. and that mattered, too.