![[Image: viv_honeybee.gif]](https://sig.grumpybumpers.com/host/viv_honeybee.gif)
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Solvi, cognizant of most individuals' lack of familiarity with the Mother's Tongue, often did not speak in it. It seemed that, at least here, most spoke common - which she did not mind, though she felt sometimes something was lost between either her words or the northern accent that marked them. For much of her life, the Mother's Tongue was all she spoke, but common had been sewn in, too, for matters with outside groups.
She attempted not to seem as pleased as she was that he had followed her and not answered some summons of The Mother - or The Five. Solvi could feel the familiar warmth crest her cheeks (which had grown so very frequent in his presence, she had long noted) as the edge of her lips tipped upward into a shy smile.
It didn't occur to her, until his explanation, that he had perhaps followed her with the intention of sharing bad news, or to divulge his perceived failure in the tourney. It mattered only that he chose her company.
There was further no sting when he called her favorite place "weird" either - it was, indeed, quite strange and sudden to be transported here, and she took his statement in stride. With amusement, she watched as he devolved into panic - that, too, had become an endearing behavior she saw from him at almost every exchange. It required the full measure of her composure not to giggle at his expense as he swiftly provided a list of compliments for the "weird" meadow.
There had been many skirmishes and much bloodshed in the name of staking a flag into the resource-rich meadow and forest. While the peaks of Mors Kjever were often unforgiving, the meadow served as a way of keeping hungry mouths fed in the dead of winter as the sources of prey migrated directly through and into it.
Of course, that matter had been headed for change - change she might have forbidden when she fled her home.
A seedling of guilt, taking root within her gut, rendered her quiet, pensive for a handful of moments as they traveled through the dappled forest.
It likely came as no surprise to Alder that she had always been quick to jailbreak and escape whatever bonds tried to cage her.
The honeybee came to a pause as they topped a shallow, rolling hill. She trailed her gaze along the rambling creek below them, following it on its journey until it snaked far ahead and out of sight. With the forest at their back, the wildflower-quilted meadow spilled in front of them.
And beyond even it, on the opposite side of the mountain range, stood the foreboding sentinel: the homeland of Stjörskin. Solvi's gaze did not linger on it as she traded its peaks for the softened grasses and flowers aplenty, dark-tipped ears pressed forward as she listened to the songs of birds and the babbling creek.
She attempted not to seem as pleased as she was that he had followed her and not answered some summons of The Mother - or The Five. Solvi could feel the familiar warmth crest her cheeks (which had grown so very frequent in his presence, she had long noted) as the edge of her lips tipped upward into a shy smile.
It didn't occur to her, until his explanation, that he had perhaps followed her with the intention of sharing bad news, or to divulge his perceived failure in the tourney. It mattered only that he chose her company.
There was further no sting when he called her favorite place "weird" either - it was, indeed, quite strange and sudden to be transported here, and she took his statement in stride. With amusement, she watched as he devolved into panic - that, too, had become an endearing behavior she saw from him at almost every exchange. It required the full measure of her composure not to giggle at his expense as he swiftly provided a list of compliments for the "weird" meadow.
I would be happy to give you a tour of my weird, fascinating, and beautiful homeland,Solvi teased as she tipped her head to the territory at her back, inviting him to follow her. She kept her pace leisurely as she pressed into the depths of the meadow, unhurried.
We called this Enginn af Hunangi - Meadow of Honey. It was contested territory claimed by neither Solskin nor Stjörskin, but not for lack of trying.
There had been many skirmishes and much bloodshed in the name of staking a flag into the resource-rich meadow and forest. While the peaks of Mors Kjever were often unforgiving, the meadow served as a way of keeping hungry mouths fed in the dead of winter as the sources of prey migrated directly through and into it.
Of course, that matter had been headed for change - change she might have forbidden when she fled her home.
A seedling of guilt, taking root within her gut, rendered her quiet, pensive for a handful of moments as they traveled through the dappled forest.
This was my favorite place to visit,Solvi marched on, her voice carrying affection for the scenic expanse they were enveloped within. She glanced sidelong at Alder, surveying his features for boredom or interest periodically as they plodded along.
My life was mostly spent in Mors Fjell-she flicked an ear toward the mountain peaks behind them, rising from the meadow's skirts and visible through gaps in the trees-
It was not unlike your Northfall. But I preferred here - the source of many arguments when I dodged Aksel's and my parents' surveillance to visit it.
It likely came as no surprise to Alder that she had always been quick to jailbreak and escape whatever bonds tried to cage her.
It was difficult to just stay home, knowing this was outside our borders,Solvi added, encompassing everything around them with a small sweep of her muzzle.
The honeybee came to a pause as they topped a shallow, rolling hill. She trailed her gaze along the rambling creek below them, following it on its journey until it snaked far ahead and out of sight. With the forest at their back, the wildflower-quilted meadow spilled in front of them.
And beyond even it, on the opposite side of the mountain range, stood the foreboding sentinel: the homeland of Stjörskin. Solvi's gaze did not linger on it as she traded its peaks for the softened grasses and flowers aplenty, dark-tipped ears pressed forward as she listened to the songs of birds and the babbling creek.
![[Image: SolviSigVIV.gif]](https://sig.grumpybumpers.com/host/SolviSigVIV.gif)
Solvi's braids are not as tidy as displayed in her art
