Neverwinter Forest winter's breath

i know we already have one buuuuut....

after talking with her beloved, she feels the cold winds refreshing her.

soon to be wife and surely that meant mother too! her mind had stayed in its churning, changing state. she kept so close to her other women that surely they grew sick of her by now!

yet it was @Iruna she stayed nearest to. learning words from her, sharing things of healing. that evening, through mist and cold air, she sought the woman for something deeper.

something only the two of them could whisper.

there is never too many iruna and callyope threads

íruna's silver figure moves swiftly through the soft haze of the neverwinter mist, her sharp eyes scanning the paths around heimtré’s great canopy. her steps quicken as she spots callyope ahead, a familiar golden warmth amidst the pale shadows of the forest. there is a certain lightness in her movements, though her purpose is clear. it is not heard to see that she too looks for her!

when she reaches callyope, she presses their foreheads together in a gesture of affection and solidarity. íruna pulls back slightly, motioning with her muzzle for callyope to follow. without waiting for a reply, she leads her deeper into the sacred grove of heimtré, where the whispers of their gods linger amidst the ancient roots and the soft murmurs of attending women.

so they might gossip of their men!

she almost wished to pull her close, to grapple her into warmth and love!

íruna had become like a sister or aunt. someone cherished, someone who held words of her heart and understood what her spirit spoke.

instead she only moved swiftly after the silver-hued woman. she held her breath and did her best to not giggle like some kind of nervous girl! she was a leader, a bride-to-be! which brought her to the things she wished to say most here in such a hushed place.

i have many wants for these next two seasons, íruna. she whispered these things for them alone. do you have wants in your heart, too?

she leans closer, her voice a conspiratorial whisper meant only for callyope’s ears. yes, she begins, her glacier-blue eyes alight with joy that she can no longer contain. i as well. has sólhárr told you? rökkur and i are to wed. there is a brief pause, a flicker of nervousness as she searches her friend’s amber gaze. soon, before your own wedding. a small affair, only you and sólhárr shall come. we do not wish to take away from your big day.

íruna leans her head gently against callyope’s, savoring this moment of shared happiness. she feels a rush of affection for the woman beside her, a sister in spirit if not in blood. it is a bond she holds close to her heart, one she knows she will cherish for as long as the gods allow. two giggling girls! íruna's mother would shed tears of joy at such a sight for her strong daughter.

but then, her tone turns teasing, a playful glint in her eyes as she murmurs, tell me, seiðkona. will you bear pups this spring?

had it bee anyone else — !

instead she feels only warmth and dizzy headed delight to think of it! she knows they wish for it to be small but callyope is thinking of a great many things to offer the newlyweds. surely íruna would not speak such if her betrothed had not been warm to it, too!

wed how you wish, she accepted this with a nod and touch of her paw over the Læknir's own. and build a sleeping space together. somewhere i may bring you wedding gifts! this time she cannot stop the songbird laughter that comes from her.

she wonders how many will be coupled by summer, how many children might grow and walk among all the villages they bound themselves to.

that is our desire. no dream nor plan, and it theirs. she knows @Solharr wishes for their own children as much as she does. will you do the same alongside me?

she does not wish to be alone — not in joy, not in motherhood.

a small, genuine smile graces her lips.

when callyope speaks of her own desires, íruna feels her chest tighten—not with worry, but with anticipation. the idea of children, of their voices filling the hearths and glades of forneskja and callyope's home village, of a future built not only on faith and duty but on love and family... it is no longer a far-off dream, but something within reach!

i will, she says softly, and her eyes shine now, bright with excitement. i would want nothing more than to share motherhood with you, seiðkona! she ushers closer, pressing her shoulder to hers and lowering her voice for only her to hear:

sólhárr has spoken of it. he wishes for one of my daughters to wed your son. we will be kin, by marriage. the thought brings a lightness to her chest, and her tail wags a little faster now.

she will!

and callyope cannot hold back the soft misting of her eyes now. even if it was only happiness that made them rimmed with droplets. she pressed into her treasured Læknir, forehead against her temple. there she listened to the comforting voice, the ideas of the future coming to light.

kin in spirit, one day kin in blood. it was meant to be! this she believed so fiercly.

i wish for a moon-blessed daughter that holds the spirit that you and your husband do. she mused with a smile dancing upon her features. and i will give a son as strong as a ram, as rich as the forest.

and in them might be the future of forneskja, years and years from now.

íruna hums softly, letting her leader's warmth soak into her as if they were two fawns pressed together beneath the shelter of a great tree. her temple presses gently against callyope’s, their breaths mingling, carrying whispered promises to the gods.

it was meant to be, she echoes, her voice a quiet melody, a lullaby spun from belief and devotion. i have no doubt your son will carry the strength of your union, and i pray that my daughter will hold the wisdom of the gods within her. her tail wags faintly, the joy in her heart spilling over into the smallest of gestures.

íruna pulls back just slightly, her glacier-blue eyes glimmering with a soft smile as they meet callyope’s amber gaze.

the world is bright and promising.

the future sings to her in the form of spirits waiting to awake.

i have never been mother before. she feels that such is a given! yet — but my mother has brought much life into this world. i would like her help for me — for us.

tragedy could be avoided if they had a woman strong of mending and spirits.

callyope would do anything to protect the future that lived within them — by their status of womanhood and spiritual points of foneskja.

íruna shifts closer, pressing her nose gently to callyope's temple in a gesture of solidarity. if we are to bring life into this world, it is only right that we do so with the strength of those who have walked this path before us. your mother will be a blessing to us both, seiðkona.

she steps back slightly, her icy blue eyes holding callyope's with a rare flicker of vulnerability. this is uncharted territory for me as well. but the gods—they would not have chosen us for this path if we were not meant to walk it together.