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[obsidian-dovahkiin]

Even a few days in the realm of the Lord of Donination was enough to unnerve Obsidian. She had been in a constant sense of safety in Apocrypha for hundreds, of not thousands of years. She was scared. She no longer towered over everybody she came into contact with. She no longer had the constant presence of her Master in thr back of her mind. She was cold, she was frightened and she was upset at how weak she had become.

The days were long and hard. As soon as she entered the realm, she was placed into a random prison, all alone. Forced to work alongside the new souls, most likrly more terrified than she. The constant sounds of sobs and screams almost made her want to return to the seclusion of Apocyrpha. She wasn't stupid. She knew if she didnt listen to the Dremora in charge, she would be treated far worse. Such actions could jeopardise her disguise. She trusted that Hefdet would come to find her, and she wished he would be quick about it.

After a day of work, they would be harshly shoved back into their cramped cells. Obsidian didn't make much conversation with her fear stricken cell mates, and usually would quietly weep in the dark corner, while the others would huddle for comfort.

She wrapped her arms around her knees, lowering her head and imagining she wasn't here. Her cell mates murmered quietly to each other, as to not attract attention from the Gaolers and torturers. But today's particular conversation intrigued her enough to join in.

"Molag Bal's wife? Molag Bal doesn't have a wife," she whispered. Her cell mates turned their head to the dim corner, wondering whether the noise actually came from her.

"So you can speak?" A Bosmer spoke. He bore a nasty scratch on his face from talking back to one of the Gaolers. It made Obsidian wonder how their metaphysical forms worked. They were not in their physical bodies from Nirn, but perhaps their souls took the form of their mortal looks.

"It's about time. I've seen you work. You're one of the stronger ones of us all. You can help us escape from this torment."

Obsidian scoffed at the idea. "Escape? Why on Nirn would you think that is possible?"

"You don't want to get out of here? Are you content with spending the rest of eternity in fear?" He exclaimed, standing up and walking closer to her. "Just who are you anyway?"

Obsidian smiled at him, and also stood up. Despite being several feet shorter than normal, she was still taller than him.

"I'm somebody in the wrong place. I spent my mortal life serving the master of this realm. This afterlife is perfect for me," she replied, hoping her lies were convincing. In truth, he caused her much pain in her mortal life. He drove her family apart and she swore that one day she would end his terror. That wish was still true, but in her current state there was no way she could take on a Daedric Prince alone.

The others gasped, whereas the Bosmer laughed. "A life time of serving Molag Bal, and you still get dumped in the cells with the rest of us. Poor thing. Your devotion clearly meant nothing, girl. Thats what you get for worshipping a Daedric Prince, you're nothing but scum like the rest of them."

Obsidian tightened her fist and stepped closer to him, looking down on him now. "Say that again, I dare you" she spoke through gritted teeth.

"I said, you're nothing but Daedra worshipping sc-" he began to reply, until Obsidian's fist met his jaw. He recoiled in shock, then tried attacking her back. She was used to relying on magical attacks, but knew a show of her magical prowess would cause attention. Before he could hit her, she grabbed his by the head, and slammed him into the wall. The cell mates huddled by the gate in fear, whimpering as they believed they might be the next to taste her wrath.

Light illuminated the cell, and an otherworldly voice boomed, "What is going on in there?! Stop this instant!"

Obsidian gasped, realising she had done a lot more damage to this Bosmer than she realised. Her fists were covered in his blood, which pour down his face. Instantly letting go, she took a step back. The Bosmer wiped his nose with his arm, and whispered "you're in for it now".

It had been so long since she felt fear in this way. Her body was stiffened, her vocal cords catching in her throat. She tried to apologise but nothing would come, other than a frightened whimper.

"You there! What is your name?" The Dremora called out from between the bars, staring at her. She managed to blurt out her alias, fearing she was doomed. "D-Dreyasa Valaai."

"Why were you just attacking your cell mates?!"

"B-because he insulted our Master!" She cried.

The Dremora gazed back, cocking his head to the side in confusion.

"Our Master?"

"Yes! I-I come from a long line of worshipers, the Madds clan, devoted to the Lord of this place. I passed away recently, was sacrificed in tribute to him." She lied, shaking in fear that they would see through her lies. Instead the Dremora got to his knees before the cell.

"Please accept our most sincere apologies Lady Dreyasa. Sacrifices to our Lord are never treated in this manner."

Obsidian took in a deep breath, and decided to try and talk back. She was scared of angering him, but knew a real Molag worshiper would never stand for this treatment.

"I come from a strong lineage of Dunmeri worshippers. I gave my mortal life in ritualistic sacrifice, so that I could better serve our Lord and I am treated like a common criminal?"

The dremora stayed on his knees, but looked up at her now. "I am uncertain as to how you ended up with the mortals. These are yet to be broken. How another Gaoler didn't notice that a soul was in here is appalling. They shall be punished and retrained at once."

Obsidian stood there in shock, wondering if this was all a trick. She watched as the dremora stood up once again, and grasped the hoop of keys on his belt.

"Everyone up against the wall, now! Any escape attempts will have you locked up in eternal torture!" He barked, as her cell mates scurried past her to the wall. She could feel her fist begin to hurt, and wished she could apologise to them all. But she had to stay in character. With nothing but a small bow of her head to them, she timidly walked through the now open gate.

She noticed the prisoners in the other cells must have heard the commotion. Several Dremora stood guarding the other cell doors, barking similar orders to settle down.

"My name is Vut'ooth. This is my Gaol, The Black Claw Fortress. I offer my deepest apologies for this mix up, I shall have every last Daedra involved in this incident punished accordingly." His voice was deep, like her husband's, but the way he pronounced his words were slightly different. They sounded more gruff, and rushed, rather than Hefdet's more twangy pronunciations.

"I have to ask my lady, why did you not inform anyone of your lineage?" He looked down to her as they walked side by side through long, guarded corridors. Obsidian wasn't prepared for that question, and almost struggled to find an answer.

"I was not informed by anyone on what the etiquette would be when I arrived here. I believed I was in the correct place, and in time we would be sorted into our destinations and then I would be sent to my family."

"That is rather strange. I believed a clan like the Madds would have informed you of your next steps. No matter, what is done is done."

The corridors all looked the same. All with black brick walls, with glowing blue Daedric inscriptions. Their nessages of punishment unnerved her. She retained foggy memories of the actual ritual she was involved in as a child, and made her shudder.

"Do not fret, my lady. Soon enough and you should not feel the cold again. Now come, we are nearly at the exit. Another Dremora shall escort you to the Palace, where you will receive an audience with our Master himself. You are very lucky".

Obsidian was struck by fear again. "R-really? Do I really deserve such an honour?"

"Of course, my lady. Your sacrifice deserves recognition."

Obsidian did her best to smile while her heart pounded in her chest. She wondered if she had truly become trapped in this nightmare and would never again see her true master.

Time flies over us, but leaves its shadow behind. (For @ask-demon-princess-astarte)

Hermaeus Mora's selection of a new successor was met with much celebration. The passing of his late champion Miraak had caused much anxiety and unease amongst his closest devotees. For many, however, they were uncertain he even had a champion. Their Prince of idolization was highly secretive. But even they could feel something changed in the endless library they called home. The air seemed colder than usual, and the inhabitants much more irritable.

The legacy of the Last Dragonborn spread to even the quietest halls of Apocrypha, the worshippers honouring his fine choice. What a prize she was indeed. The other Daedric Princes bickered and fought when her mortal time was over. They all rushed to his realm, clamouring to present their case, but none could produce any definitive proof of her faithfulness. Obsidian's devotion was evident to all who looked at her. Her elaborate tentacle tattoos writhed across her skin, the mark of her Prince like a brand on her lower back. Her house was filled with forbidden tomes, and various fetishes of a tentacled god were integrated into her decor. Even her own voice had begun to match his own intricate dictation. The Princes swore they would seek revenge in the future and returned to their domains in a temper.

At least a few hundred years had passed, and Obsidian began to throw herself into her new duties. Being Mora's right hand was never easy. He spoke in riddles that could take hours to decipher his true meaning, and he would ask her to do mind-boggling tasks she couldn't determine. But as time passed, she became more accustomed to her Master's way of thinking. Now she didn't have to spend time deducing what he meant and could complete requests with ease. She was now a part of the realm and thus, a part of her Prince. She settled into a routine, each "day" being the same. Her Master allowed her a private corner of Apocrypha, as a token of her unwavering loyalty. Obsidian was given complete control over how it looked, and what was inside. With limited resources at her disposal, she had constructed a house, almost identical to her one in Skyrim. When Obsidian was not exploring, or following after her Master, this was where she would spend her time. She would often spend it writing letters to and from Mora's patrons on Nirn, or her connections across the realm. She had practically never stopped working after she was bound to Apocrypha. However, for a soul as energetic as hers, this life was quickly becoming dull. If it wasn't for her Dremora husband swearing allegiance to Mora upon Obsidian's passing, it would be a lonely one too.

There was a quiet knock on her door, and then the clicking of his armour as he walked wasn't enough to tear her eyes from the letter she was reading. The desk she sat at was another gift from her Master. It was abnormally large to match her towering height and made from the finest wood from the distant forests of Apocrypha. The iconography of her Master decorated the legs, the detail so fine that one would have to view it for hours to truly take it in. Many letters and tomes were scattered across the tabletop, Obsidian now quickly scribbling upon a blank piece of paper. He moved a book to make room for her teacup, shaking his head at the mess. All the books looked the same, with the dreary cover of brown and no title to be found. How she could tell them apart was maddening to him.

"Can you believe this Hefdet? He's demanding another audience with our Master. Why will he not take no for an answer?" She muttered, putting down her pen amongst the mess. Obsidian greeted him with a deep kiss, before reaching for the teacup. It was a deep green colour, with golden patterns painted onto the side.

"Mm, this tea smells different. Another one from your adventures?" She delicately sipped, becoming accustomed to the bitter flavour. as he placed a hand on her shoulder. He nodded in response.

"I've been told it's an acquired taste. Made from a Nirnroot. Do you remember what a Nirnroot is love?" Obsidian scoffed. "Of course, I remember what a bloody Nirnroot is. As if I could ever forget its piercing screech. It tastes…bitter. But it reminds me of those old adventuring days. What a time that was. How dull it must be for the bards: The great Last Dragonborn, slayer of Alduin and student of the Daedric Arts dies because a lurker launched her across a room. How was I supposed to know they didn't like being pet?" she chuckled slightly, as he began to massage her shoulders.

"I know you miss it Obsidian but you're doing an excellent job here. I've never seen someone serve a Daedric Prince like you before. And it isn't as if Mora keeps you in confinement. You are free to explore all of Apocrypha to your heart's content. Your deal was just no other Daedric Realms without permission and no Nirn. Here is where you will stay, but if you wish, I can accompany you to Cipher's Midden? I hear that you haven't visited in many days now. They're worried about you."

Obsidian sighed, resting her head back upon his torso. She didn't answer his question. The two remained in this position for some time, until a new letter fell down into her chute across the room. This is where all correspondence with her would be received, but also where she could send her own letters across the vast postal networks of Apocrypha. She never realised just how complex this realm was until she called it home. Their eyes flicked across it for a moment, Hefdet quickly dismissing it and returning to look down on Obsidian. Her attentive eyes noticed something different about the letter.

"Why…why is the paper a different colour?" She asked, standing up from her chair. Obsidian's footsteps were not as loud as his, as she no longer wore armour. No harm could happen to her in Apocrypha, so she would wear a various selection of robes, handcrafted by servants of the Great Eye.

"Perhaps it is a new batch of paper? Maybe it is the lighting, or lack thereof in here. I have no idea how you sit here and read-"

"It's not from here." She interrupted him, examining the letter in her hands. The piece was soft, and was white in colour, unlike the murky yellow hue of the paper Apocrypha produced. She ran a finger across it, almost as if she was determining its reality. Rushing back to her desk, she retrieved a letter opener and cut open the unmarked wax seal.

"It's from Coldharbour?" She asked uncertainly, her hungry eyes reading on. "From a Xivkyn named Kridia. She says there are rumours of him talking of invading Apocrypha! I cannot stand by and let this happen!" She cried out, gathering her possessions for her satchel.

"Wait, Obsidian we have to talk about this first! It could be a lie, we don't even know how this letter got here! Master doesn't let anything pass through his realm he doesn't check first and you know he wouldn't give you a letter from another realm. And it's not like he will let you leave to deal with it," he cried, trying to stop her from running out of the room.

"Not unless I ask for permission, which is exactly what I'm going to do! I am not passing up the chance of escaping here for a while, even if it is to Coldharbour. And no one hurts my Master. Now come on!"

[obsidian-dovahkiin]

Obsidian had returned to her dwelling and was once again furiously scribbling on several pieces of paper. Occasionally, she would stop, rotate her wrist a few times to ease the tension and continue.

Hefdet entered through the door, another cup of tea in hand. The steam was thick on this particular cup, as she had requested it to be extra hot. A request she only made when she was stressed.

"Obsidian? Please put down your pen for a moment. We need to talk," he murmured quietly, setting the cup beside her.

"I can't. I'm busy," she replied simply, not looking up from her paper. Hefdet gently put his taloned fingers around her wrist, and when she met his gaze, stared intently at her.

"Obsidian. Are you sure this is a good idea? What happens if we are to be discovered? What if they ask questions as to why a previously Unbound Dremora, now serving the Great Eye, wishes to serve the Lord of schemes right as an invasion is rumoured. Especially with a mortal in tow. It seems too suspicious," he sighed, running his other hand through her now jet black hair.

"I-I do not know Hefdet. Pretend you are sick of our Master, and wish to serve a more worthy Lord? That isn't exactly uncommon for Dremora to seek."

"And what then? What if my request is accepted, and he locks away my memories? Worse still, he searches my memories to find the truth. And what of you? As soon as you step foot in that place you shall be locked up! They will hurt you my love, and I won't be there to stop them. I served Molag Bal in the past. He is not as kind as our Master."

"You've served Molag before?" Obsidian's frown turned into a smile and her eyes flashed with inspiration.

"Oh Hefdet, that is wonderful! Do you remember how you served him?"

"Obsidian this isn't a time to be smiling! And of course I do, I had to torture mortals for hundreds of years! I was a Gaoler! I had to keep track of all mortals in and out, was in charge of sending them to other prisons, and a very unlucky few directly to the hands of the Lord." Hefdet visibly shuddered recalling those memories. He had been passed from Prince to Prince, until he had grown tired and escaped his service from Mehrunes Dagon.

"So....you dealt with new arrivals? Dealt with the charts of mortal names and exactly how long they've been in Coldharbour?"

"That's right....please don't tell me you're thinking of what I think you are. Obsidian, even if I somehow manage to get into service, the odds of us being together are practically impossible. I won't hear it."

"But what if I wasn't Obsidian?" She asked, pausing for a moment to think. She absent mindedly played with a curl in her hair. "Yes, this is perfect. I'm not Obsidian. I'm Dreyasa Valaai, a mortal who used to be part of a small cult of Molag Bal in Vvardenfell. And you....you can be whichever poor Dremora Gaoler you first come across. Well, Dreyasa showed such devotion in her mortal life, it isn't fair she is locked up with the other rabble. No. Don’t you think she deserves something better? An audience with Molag Bal himself? Access to Heart's Grief? Rewards for her lifetime of service?"

Hefdet stared at her blankly, but then sighed, shaking his head. He took Obsidian's hands in his, kissing her forehead.

"You are absolutely insane...but I can't think of any other ideas. This better work"

"Oh, trust me, it will"

Time flies over us, but leaves its shadow behind. (For @ask-demon-princess-astarte)

Hermaeus Mora's selection of a new successor was met with much celebration. The passing of his late champion Miraak had caused much anxiety and unease amongst his closest devotees. For many, however, they were uncertain he even had a champion. Their Prince of idolization was highly secretive. But even they could feel something changed in the endless library they called home. The air seemed colder than usual, and the inhabitants much more irritable.

The legacy of the Last Dragonborn spread to even the quietest halls of Apocrypha, the worshippers honouring his fine choice. What a prize she was indeed. The other Daedric Princes bickered and fought when her mortal time was over. They all rushed to his realm, clamouring to present their case, but none could produce any definitive proof of her faithfulness. Obsidian's devotion was evident to all who looked at her. Her elaborate tentacle tattoos writhed across her skin, the mark of her Prince like a brand on her lower back. Her house was filled with forbidden tomes, and various fetishes of a tentacled god were integrated into her decor. Even her own voice had begun to match his own intricate dictation. The Princes swore they would seek revenge in the future and returned to their domains in a temper.

At least a few hundred years had passed, and Obsidian began to throw herself into her new duties. Being Mora's right hand was never easy. He spoke in riddles that could take hours to decipher his true meaning, and he would ask her to do mind-boggling tasks she couldn't determine. But as time passed, she became more accustomed to her Master's way of thinking. Now she didn't have to spend time deducing what he meant and could complete requests with ease. She was now a part of the realm and thus, a part of her Prince. She settled into a routine, each "day" being the same. Her Master allowed her a private corner of Apocrypha, as a token of her unwavering loyalty. Obsidian was given complete control over how it looked, and what was inside. With limited resources at her disposal, she had constructed a house, almost identical to her one in Skyrim. When Obsidian was not exploring, or following after her Master, this was where she would spend her time. She would often spend it writing letters to and from Mora's patrons on Nirn, or her connections across the realm. She had practically never stopped working after she was bound to Apocrypha. However, for a soul as energetic as hers, this life was quickly becoming dull. If it wasn't for her Dremora husband swearing allegiance to Mora upon Obsidian's passing, it would be a lonely one too.

There was a quiet knock on her door, and then the clicking of his armour as he walked wasn't enough to tear her eyes from the letter she was reading. The desk she sat at was another gift from her Master. It was abnormally large to match her towering height and made from the finest wood from the distant forests of Apocrypha. The iconography of her Master decorated the legs, the detail so fine that one would have to view it for hours to truly take it in. Many letters and tomes were scattered across the tabletop, Obsidian now quickly scribbling upon a blank piece of paper. He moved a book to make room for her teacup, shaking his head at the mess. All the books looked the same, with the dreary cover of brown and no title to be found. How she could tell them apart was maddening to him.

"Can you believe this Hefdet? He's demanding another audience with our Master. Why will he not take no for an answer?" She muttered, putting down her pen amongst the mess. Obsidian greeted him with a deep kiss, before reaching for the teacup. It was a deep green colour, with golden patterns painted onto the side.

"Mm, this tea smells different. Another one from your adventures?" She delicately sipped, becoming accustomed to the bitter flavour. as he placed a hand on her shoulder. He nodded in response.

"I've been told it's an acquired taste. Made from a Nirnroot. Do you remember what a Nirnroot is love?" Obsidian scoffed. "Of course, I remember what a bloody Nirnroot is. As if I could ever forget its piercing screech. It tastes…bitter. But it reminds me of those old adventuring days. What a time that was. How dull it must be for the bards: The great Last Dragonborn, slayer of Alduin and student of the Daedric Arts dies because a lurker launched her across a room. How was I supposed to know they didn't like being pet?" she chuckled slightly, as he began to massage her shoulders.

"I know you miss it Obsidian but you're doing an excellent job here. I've never seen someone serve a Daedric Prince like you before. And it isn't as if Mora keeps you in confinement. You are free to explore all of Apocrypha to your heart's content. Your deal was just no other Daedric Realms without permission and no Nirn. Here is where you will stay, but if you wish, I can accompany you to Cipher's Midden? I hear that you haven't visited in many days now. They're worried about you."

Obsidian sighed, resting her head back upon his torso. She didn't answer his question. The two remained in this position for some time, until a new letter fell down into her chute across the room. This is where all correspondence with her would be received, but also where she could send her own letters across the vast postal networks of Apocrypha. She never realised just how complex this realm was until she called it home. Their eyes flicked across it for a moment, Hefdet quickly dismissing it and returning to look down on Obsidian. Her attentive eyes noticed something different about the letter.

"Why…why is the paper a different colour?" She asked, standing up from her chair. Obsidian's footsteps were not as loud as his, as she no longer wore armour. No harm could happen to her in Apocrypha, so she would wear a various selection of robes, handcrafted by servants of the Great Eye.

"Perhaps it is a new batch of paper? Maybe it is the lighting, or lack thereof in here. I have no idea how you sit here and read-"

"It's not from here." She interrupted him, examining the letter in her hands. The piece was soft, and was white in colour, unlike the murky yellow hue of the paper Apocrypha produced. She ran a finger across it, almost as if she was determining its reality. Rushing back to her desk, she retrieved a letter opener and cut open the unmarked wax seal.

"It's from Coldharbour?" She asked uncertainly, her hungry eyes reading on. "From a Xivkyn named Kridia. She says there are rumours of him talking of invading Apocrypha! I cannot stand by and let this happen!" She cried out, gathering her possessions for her satchel.

"Wait, Obsidian we have to talk about this first! It could be a lie, we don't even know how this letter got here! Master doesn't let anything pass through his realm he doesn't check first and you know he wouldn't give you a letter from another realm. And it's not like he will let you leave to deal with it," he cried, trying to stop her from running out of the room.

"Not unless I ask for permission, which is exactly what I'm going to do! I am not passing up the chance of escaping here for a while, even if it is to Coldharbour. And no one hurts my Master. Now come on!"

[obsidian-dovahkiin]

Obsidian had returned to her dwelling and was once again furiously scribbling on several pieces of paper. Occasionally, she would stop, rotate her wrist a few times to ease the tension and continue.

Hefdet entered through the door, another cup of tea in hand. The steam was thick on this particular cup, as she had requested it to be extra hot. A request she only made when she was stressed.

"Obsidian? Please put down your pen for a moment. We need to talk," he murmured quietly, setting the cup beside her.

"I can't. I'm busy," she replied simply, not looking up from her paper. Hefdet gently put his taloned fingers around her wrist, and when she met his gaze, stared intently at her.

"Obsidian. Are you sure this is a good idea? What happens if we are to be discovered? What if they ask questions as to why a previously Unbound Dremora, now serving the Great Eye, wishes to serve the Lord of schemes right as an invasion is rumoured. Especially with a mortal in tow. It seems too suspicious," he sighed, running his other hand through her now jet black hair.

"I-I do not know Hefdet. Pretend you are sick of our Master, and wish to serve a more worthy Lord? That isn't exactly uncommon for Dremora to seek."

"And what then? What if my request is accepted, and he locks away my memories? Worse still, he searches my memories to find the truth. And what of you? As soon as you step foot in that place you shall be locked up! They will hurt you my love, and I won't be there to stop them. I served Molag Bal in the past. He is not as kind as our Master."

"You've served Molag before?" Obsidian's frown turned into a smile and her eyes flashed with inspiration.

"Oh Hefdet, that is wonderful! Do you remember how you served him?"

"Obsidian this isn't a time to be smiling! And of course I do, I had to torture mortals for hundreds of years! I was a Gaoler! I had to keep track of all mortals in and out, was in charge of sending them to other prisons, and a very unlucky few directly to the hands of the Lord." Hefdet visibly shuddered recalling those memories. He had been passed from Prince to Prince, until he had grown tired and escaped his service from Mehrunes Dagon.

"So....you dealt with new arrivals? Dealt with the charts of mortal names and exactly how long they've been in Coldharbour?"

"That's right....please don't tell me you're thinking of what I think you are. Obsidian, even if I somehow manage to get into service, the odds of us being together ate practically impossible. I won't hear it."

"But what if I wasn't Obsidian?" She asked, pausing for a moment to think. She absent mindedly played with a curl in her hair. "Yes, this is perfect. I'm not Obsidian. I'm Dreyasa Valaai, a mortal who used to be part of a small cult of Molag Bal in Vvardenfell. And you....you can be whichever poor Dremora Gaoler you first come across. Well, Dreyasa showed such devotion in her mortal life, it isn't fair she is locked up with the other rabble. No. Don’t you think she deserves something better? An audience with Molag Bal himself? Access to Heart's Grief? Rewards for her lifetime of service?"

Hefdet stared at her blankly, but then sighed, shaking his head. He took Obsidian's hands in his, kissing her forehead.

"You are absolutely insane...but I can't think of any other ideas. This better work"

"Oh, trust me, it will"

Time flies over us, but leaves its shadow behind. (For @ask-demon-princess-astarte)

Hermaeus Mora's selection of a new successor was met with much celebration. The passing of his late champion Miraak had caused much anxiety and unease amongst his closest devotees. For many, however, they were uncertain he even had a champion. Their Prince of idolization was highly secretive. But even they could feel something changed in the endless library they called home. The air seemed colder than usual, and the inhabitants much more irritable.

The legacy of the Last Dragonborn spread to even the quietest halls of Apocrypha, the worshippers honouring his fine choice. What a prize she was indeed. The other Daedric Princes bickered and fought when her mortal time was over. They all rushed to his realm, clamouring to present their case, but none could produce any definitive proof of her faithfulness. Obsidian's devotion was evident to all who looked at her. Her elaborate tentacle tattoos writhed across her skin, the mark of her Prince like a brand on her lower back. Her house was filled with forbidden tomes, and various fetishes of a tentacled god were integrated into her decor. Even her own voice had begun to match his own intricate dictation. The Princes swore they would seek revenge in the future and returned to their domains in a temper.

At least a few hundred years had passed, and Obsidian began to throw herself into her new duties. Being Mora's right hand was never easy. He spoke in riddles that could take hours to decipher his true meaning, and he would ask her to do mind-boggling tasks she couldn't determine. But as time passed, she became more accustomed to her Master's way of thinking. Now she didn't have to spend time deducing what he meant and could complete requests with ease. She was now a part of the realm and thus, a part of her Prince. She settled into a routine, each "day" being the same. Her Master allowed her a private corner of Apocrypha, as a token of her unwavering loyalty. Obsidian was given complete control over how it looked, and what was inside. With limited resources at her disposal, she had constructed a house, almost identical to her one in Skyrim. When Obsidian was not exploring, or following after her Master, this was where she would spend her time. She would often spend it writing letters to and from Mora's patrons on Nirn, or her connections across the realm. She had practically never stopped working after she was bound to Apocrypha. However, for a soul as energetic as hers, this life was quickly becoming dull. If it wasn't for her Dremora husband swearing allegiance to Mora upon Obsidian's passing, it would be a lonely one too.

There was a quiet knock on her door, and then the clicking of his armour as he walked wasn't enough to tear her eyes from the letter she was reading. The desk she sat at was another gift from her Master. It was abnormally large to match her towering height and made from the finest wood from the distant forests of Apocrypha. The iconography of her Master decorated the legs, the detail so fine that one would have to view it for hours to truly take it in. Many letters and tomes were scattered across the tabletop, Obsidian now quickly scribbling upon a blank piece of paper. He moved a book to make room for her teacup, shaking his head at the mess. All the books looked the same, with the dreary cover of brown and no title to be found. How she could tell them apart was maddening to him.

"Can you believe this Hefdet? He's demanding another audience with our Master. Why will he not take no for an answer?" She muttered, putting down her pen amongst the mess. Obsidian greeted him with a deep kiss, before reaching for the teacup. It was a deep green colour, with golden patterns painted onto the side.

"Mm, this tea smells different. Another one from your adventures?" She delicately sipped, becoming accustomed to the bitter flavour. as he placed a hand on her shoulder. He nodded in response.

"I've been told it's an acquired taste. Made from a Nirnroot. Do you remember what a Nirnroot is love?" Obsidian scoffed. "Of course, I remember what a bloody Nirnroot is. As if I could ever forget its piercing screech. It tastes…bitter. But it reminds me of those old adventuring days. What a time that was. How dull it must be for the bards: The great Last Dragonborn, slayer of Alduin and student of the Daedric Arts dies because a lurker launched her across a room. How was I supposed to know they didn't like being pet?" she chuckled slightly, as he began to massage her shoulders.

"I know you miss it Obsidian but you're doing an excellent job here. I've never seen someone serve a Daedric Prince like you before. And it isn't as if Mora keeps you in confinement. You are free to explore all of Apocrypha to your heart's content. Your deal was just no other Daedric Realms without permission and no Nirn. Here is where you will stay, but if you wish, I can accompany you to Cipher's Midden? I hear that you haven't visited in many days now. They're worried about you."

Obsidian sighed, resting her head back upon his torso. She didn't answer his question. The two remained in this position for some time, until a new letter fell down into her chute across the room. This is where all correspondence with her would be received, but also where she could send her own letters across the vast postal networks of Apocrypha. She never realised just how complex this realm was until she called it home. Their eyes flicked across it for a moment, Hefdet quickly dismissing it and returning to look down on Obsidian. Her attentive eyes noticed something different about the letter.

"Why…why is the paper a different colour?" She asked, standing up from her chair. Obsidian's footsteps were not as loud as his, as she no longer wore armour. No harm could happen to her in Apocrypha, so she would wear a various selection of robes, handcrafted by servants of the Great Eye.

"Perhaps it is a new batch of paper? Maybe it is the lighting, or lack thereof in here. I have no idea how you sit here and read-"

"It's not from here." She interrupted him, examining the letter in her hands. The piece was soft, and was white in colour, unlike the murky yellow hue of the paper Apocrypha produced. She ran a finger across it, almost as if she was determining its reality. Rushing back to her desk, she retrieved a letter opener and cut open the unmarked wax seal.

"It's from Coldharbour?" She asked uncertainly, her hungry eyes reading on. "From a Xivkyn named Kridia. She says there are rumours of him talking of invading Apocrypha! I cannot stand by and let this happen!" She cried out, gathering her possessions for her satchel.

"Wait, Obsidian we have to talk about this first! It could be a lie, we don't even know how this letter got here! Master doesn't let anything pass through his realm he doesn't check first and you know he wouldn't give you a letter from another realm. And it's not like he will let you leave to deal with it," he cried, trying to stop her from running out of the room.

"Not unless I ask for permission, which is exactly what I'm going to do! I am not passing up the chance of escaping here for a while, even if it is to Coldharbour. And no one hurts my Master. Now come on!"

[obsidian-dovahkiin]

It was common knowledge that all Daedric portals had different appearances. Some were large and ornate. Others were simple intervals in the fabric of Nirn. Hermaeus Mora's were not great and flashy. Like a clouded pool of water before them both, tendrils slipped out and firmly embraced them, pulling them into the murky abyss. In an instant, they were transported to the hub of Apocrypha. 

Watchers and watchlings flew about, transporting tomes and papers into the endless library, some Ciphers rushing to and fro their destinations. Obsidian's presence made everyone cease their activity, bowing deeply to her, before carrying on with their duties. Before them lie a large staircase, each step ornately decorated with iron patterns that looked akin to the tentacles of their master. The mass of tentacles continued upwards for some time, their destination high above them. The tallest platform in Apocypha, the personal seat of the Great Eye. From here, he could see all across the realm and conduct his own personal duties. He would rarely receive visitors but as his highest-ranked subordinate, she had spent much of her time here.

Lifting the hem of her robe in one hand, she began to make her way up the daunting staircase, her heart pounding in her ears. The bustle stopped again, all turning to look at her. No one was permitted to see their Master without being summoned, even Obsidian. She felt as if this was urgent enough to break one of her Master's rules, and didn't care even if she was punished. She wouldn't allow harm to come to him. 

When she had made her way roughly past the halfway point, a large tendril extended down and tightly grabbed around her chest, yanking her and Hefdet up to the platform. 

"What did I tell you about disturbing me without being summoned, Champion?" His voice bellowed in her ears, the tendril becoming tighter. 

"So, what is the reason for this interruption?", he said, more quietly this time, letting Obsidian and Hefdet down onto the floor. She took a moment to catch her breath, hunching over a little. 

"I am so sorry Master, please forgive me for my interruption. I wouldn't intrude without being summoned without reason, but this is urgent. I just received a letter. A letter from Coldharbour," she started, before Mora moved extremely close to her, his many eyes staring into her soul. 

"From Coldharbour you say? And how pray tell, did you get this? Nothing passes through my realm without my knowledge. Have you been conspiring against me?"

Obsidian dropped to her knees and kept her sight on the floor. "Nothing of the sort Master. It was delivered to my house moments ago, and I came straight here to tell you. Its contents are....disturbing," she mumbled, a tendril entering her satchel to retrieve the letter. She dared not move while her Master inspected the letter for himself. His eyes hungrily looked over the letter, moving left, right, up, and down in quick succession.

"Interesting...a plot to invade my realm? You have done well bringing this to my attention Champion. In time you shall be rewarded."

"In time, Master?" She asked uncertainly. She wondered if she was about to be punished first, for defying her Master's rules.

"Of course Champion. For now, take time to prepare yourself. I command you to visit Coldharbour and see what you can learn about this plot. I shall change your physical appearance with this amulet. Keep it on at all times, and no one will know you are my Champion. You shall be nothing more than a devotee of Molag, recently passed, and looking for ways to be helpful to him. If you are in trouble, I shall not be able to help you unless it is very urgent. Report back your findings to me as soon as possible. You are dismissed."

Obsidian was thrilled at the prospect of leaving for a time, but her stomach was also filled with nerves due to the task at hand. Could she really infiltrate into the heart of a daedric Realm without suspicion?

Time flies over us, but leaves its shadow behind. (For @ask-demon-princess-astarte)

Hermaeus Mora's selection of a new successor was met with much celebration. The passing of his late champion Miraak had caused much anxiety and unease amongst his closest devotees. For many, however, they were uncertain he even had a champion. Their Prince of idolization was highly secretive. But even they could feel something changed in the endless library they called home. The air seemed colder than usual, and the inhabitants much more irritable.

The legacy of the Last Dragonborn spread to even the quietest halls of Apocrypha, the worshippers honouring his fine choice. What a prize she was indeed. The other Daedric Princes bickered and fought when her mortal time was over. They all rushed to his realm, clamouring to present their case, but none could produce any definitive proof of her faithfulness. Obsidian's devotion was evident to all who looked at her. Her elaborate tentacle tattoos writhed across her skin, the mark of her Prince like a brand on her lower back. Her house was filled with forbidden tomes, and various fetishes of a tentacled god were integrated into her decor. Even her own voice had begun to match his own intricate dictation. The Princes swore they would seek revenge in the future and returned to their domains in a temper.

At least a few hundred years had passed, and Obsidian began to throw herself into her new duties. Being Mora's right hand was never easy. He spoke in riddles that could take hours to decipher his true meaning, and he would ask her to do mind-boggling tasks she couldn't determine. But as time passed, she became more accustomed to her Master's way of thinking. Now she didn't have to spend time deducing what he meant and could complete requests with ease. She was now a part of the realm and thus, a part of her Prince. She settled into a routine, each "day" being the same. Her Master allowed her a private corner of Apocrypha, as a token of her unwavering loyalty. Obsidian was given complete control over how it looked, and what was inside. With limited resources at her disposal, she had constructed a house, almost identical to her one in Skyrim. When Obsidian was not exploring, or following after her Master, this was where she would spend her time. She would often spend it writing letters to and from Mora's patrons on Nirn, or her connections across the realm. She had practically never stopped working after she was bound to Apocrypha. However, for a soul as energetic as hers, this life was quickly becoming dull. If it wasn't for her Dremora husband swearing allegiance to Mora upon Obsidian's passing, it would be a lonely one too.

There was a quiet knock on her door, and then the clicking of his armour as he walked wasn't enough to tear her eyes from the letter she was reading. The desk she sat at was another gift from her Master. It was abnormally large to match her towering height and made from the finest wood from the distant forests of Apocrypha. The iconography of her Master decorated the legs, the detail so fine that one would have to view it for hours to truly take it in. Many letters and tomes were scattered across the tabletop, Obsidian now quickly scribbling upon a blank piece of paper. He moved a book to make room for her teacup, shaking his head at the mess. All the books looked the same, with the dreary cover of brown and no title to be found. How she could tell them apart was maddening to him.

"Can you believe this Hefdet? He's demanding another audience with our Master. Why will he not take no for an answer?" She muttered, putting down her pen amongst the mess. Obsidian greeted him with a deep kiss, before reaching for the teacup. It was a deep green colour, with golden patterns painted onto the side.

"Mm, this tea smells different. Another one from your adventures?" She delicately sipped, becoming accustomed to the bitter flavour. as he placed a hand on her shoulder. He nodded in response.

"I've been told it's an acquired taste. Made from a Nirnroot. Do you remember what a Nirnroot is love?" Obsidian scoffed. "Of course, I remember what a bloody Nirnroot is. As if I could ever forget its piercing screech. It tastes…bitter. But it reminds me of those old adventuring days. What a time that was. How dull it must be for the bards: The great Last Dragonborn, slayer of Alduin and student of the Daedric Arts dies because a lurker launched her across a room. How was I supposed to know they didn't like being pet?" she chuckled slightly, as he began to massage her shoulders.

"I know you miss it Obsidian but you're doing an excellent job here. I've never seen someone serve a Daedric Prince like you before. And it isn't as if Mora keeps you in confinement. You are free to explore all of Apocrypha to your heart's content. Your deal was just no other Daedric Realms without permission and no Nirn. Here is where you will stay, but if you wish, I can accompany you to Cipher's Midden? I hear that you haven't visited in many days now. They're worried about you."

Obsidian sighed, resting her head back upon his torso. She didn't answer his question. The two remained in this position for some time, until a new letter fell down into her chute across the room. This is where all correspondence with her would be received, but also where she could send her own letters across the vast postal networks of Apocrypha. She never realised just how complex this realm was until she called it home. Their eyes flicked across it for a moment, Hefdet quickly dismissing it and returning to look down on Obsidian. Her attentive eyes noticed something different about the letter.

"Why…why is the paper a different colour?" She asked, standing up from her chair. Obsidian's footsteps were not as loud as his, as she no longer wore armour. No harm could happen to her in Apocrypha, so she would wear a various selection of robes, handcrafted by servants of the Great Eye.

"Perhaps it is a new batch of paper? Maybe it is the lighting, or lack thereof in here. I have no idea how you sit here and read-"

"It's not from here." She interrupted him, examining the letter in her hands. The piece was soft, and was white in colour, unlike the murky yellow hue of the paper Apocrypha produced. She ran a finger across it, almost as if she was determining its reality. Rushing back to her desk, she retrieved a letter opener and cut open the unmarked wax seal.

"It's from Coldharbour?" She asked uncertainly, her hungry eyes reading on. "From a Xivkyn named Kridia. She says there are rumours of him talking of invading Apocrypha! I cannot stand by and let this happen!" She cried out, gathering her possessions for her satchel.

"Wait, Obsidian we have to talk about this first! It could be a lie, we don't even know how this letter got here! Master doesn't let anything pass through his realm he doesn't check first and you know he wouldn't give you a letter from another realm. And it's not like he will let you leave to deal with it," he cried, trying to stop her from running out of the room.

"Not unless I ask for permission, which is exactly what I'm going to do! I am not passing up the chance of escaping here for a while, even if it is to Coldharbour. And no one hurts my Master. Now come on!"

[obsidian-dovahkiin]

Time flies over us, but leaves its shadow behind. (For @ask-demon-princess-astarte)

Hermaeus Mora's selection of a new successor was met with much celebration. The passing of his late champion Miraak had caused much anxiety and unease amongst his closest devotees. For many, however, they were uncertain he even had a champion. Their Prince of idolization was highly secretive. But even they could feel something changed in the endless library they called home. The air seemed colder than usual, and the inhabitants much more irritable.

The legacy of the Last Dragonborn spread to even the quietest halls of Apocrypha, the worshippers honouring his fine choice. What a prize she was indeed. The other Daedric Princes bickered and fought when her mortal time was over. They all rushed to his realm, clamouring to present their case, but none could produce any definitive proof of her faithfulness. Obsidian's devotion was evident to all who looked at her. Her elaborate tentacle tattoos writhed across her skin, the mark of her Prince like a brand on her lower back. Her house was filled with forbidden tomes, and various fetishes of a tentacled god were integrated into her decor. Even her own voice had begun to match his own intricate dictation. The Princes swore they would seek revenge in the future and returned to their domains in a temper.

At least a few hundred years had passed, and Obsidian began to throw herself into her new duties. Being Mora's right hand was never easy. He spoke in riddles that could take hours to decipher his true meaning, and he would ask her to do mind-boggling tasks she couldn't determine. But as time passed, she became more accustomed to her Master's way of thinking. Now she didn't have to spend time deducing what he meant and could complete requests with ease. She was now a part of the realm and thus, a part of her Prince. She settled into a routine, each "day" being the same. Her Master allowed her a private corner of Apocrypha, as a token of her unwavering loyalty. Obsidian was given complete control over how it looked, and what was inside. With limited resources at her disposal, she had constructed a house, almost identical to her one in Skyrim. When Obsidian was not exploring, or following after her Master, this was where she would spend her time. She would often spend it writing letters to and from Mora's patrons on Nirn, or her connections across the realm. She had practically never stopped working after she was bound to Apocrypha. However, for a soul as energetic as hers, this life was quickly becoming dull. If it wasn't for her Dremora husband swearing allegiance to Mora upon Obsidian's passing, it would be a lonely one too.

There was a quiet knock on her door, and then the clicking of his armour as he walked wasn't enough to tear her eyes from the letter she was reading. The desk she sat at was another gift from her Master. It was abnormally large to match her towering height and made from the finest wood from the distant forests of Apocrypha. The iconography of her Master decorated the legs, the detail so fine that one would have to view it for hours to truly take it in. Many letters and tomes were scattered across the tabletop, Obsidian now quickly scribbling upon a blank piece of paper. He moved a book to make room for her teacup, shaking his head at the mess. All the books looked the same, with the dreary cover of brown and no title to be found. How she could tell them apart was maddening to him.

"Can you believe this Hefdet? He's demanding another audience with our Master. Why will he not take no for an answer?" She muttered, putting down her pen amongst the mess. Obsidian greeted him with a deep kiss, before reaching for the teacup. It was a deep green colour, with golden patterns painted onto the side.

"Mm, this tea smells different. Another one from your adventures?" She delicately sipped, becoming accustomed to the bitter flavour. as he placed a hand on her shoulder. He nodded in response.

"I've been told it's an acquired taste. Made from a Nirnroot. Do you remember what a Nirnroot is love?" Obsidian scoffed. "Of course, I remember what a bloody Nirnroot is. As if I could ever forget its piercing screech. It tastes…bitter. But it reminds me of those old adventuring days. What a time that was. How dull it must be for the bards: The great Last Dragonborn, slayer of Alduin and student of the Daedric Arts dies because a lurker launched her across a room. How was I supposed to know they didn't like being pet?" she chuckled slightly, as he began to massage her shoulders.

"I know you miss it Obsidian but you're doing an excellent job here. I've never seen someone serve a Daedric Prince like you before. And it isn't as if Mora keeps you in confinement. You are free to explore all of Apocrypha to your heart's content. Your deal was just no other Daedric Realms without permission and no Nirn. Here is where you will stay, but if you wish, I can accompany you to Cipher's Midden? I hear that you haven't visited in many days now. They're worried about you."

Obsidian sighed, resting her head back upon his torso. She didn't answer his question. The two remained in this position for some time, until a new letter fell down into her chute across the room. This is where all correspondence with her would be received, but also where she could send her own letters across the vast postal networks of Apocrypha. She never realised just how complex this realm was until she called it home. Their eyes flicked across it for a moment, Hefdet quickly dismissing it and returning to look down on Obsidian. Her attentive eyes noticed something different about the letter.

"Why…why is the paper a different colour?" She asked, standing up from her chair. Obsidian's footsteps were not as loud as his, as she no longer wore armour. No harm could happen to her in Apocrypha, so she would wear a various selection of robes, handcrafted by servants of the Great Eye.

"Perhaps it is a new batch of paper? Maybe it is the lighting, or lack thereof in here. I have no idea how you sit here and read-"

"It's not from here." She interrupted him, examining the letter in her hands. The piece was soft, and was white in colour, unlike the murky yellow hue of the paper Apocrypha produced. She ran a finger across it, almost as if she was determining its reality. Rushing back to her desk, she retrieved a letter opener and cut open the unmarked wax seal.

"It's from Coldharbour?" She asked uncertainly, her hungry eyes reading on. "From a Xivkyn named Kridia. She says there are rumours of him talking of invading Apocrypha! I cannot stand by and let this happen!" She cried out, gathering her possessions for her satchel.

"Wait, Obsidian we have to talk about this first! It could be a lie, we don't even know how this letter got here! Master doesn't let anything pass through his realm he doesn't check first and you know he wouldn't give you a letter from another realm. And it's not like he will let you leave to deal with it," he cried, trying to stop her from running out of the room.

"Not unless I ask for permission, which is exactly what I'm going to do! I am not passing up the chance of escaping here for a while, even if it is to Coldharbour. And no one hurts my Master. Now come on!"

[obsidian-dovahkiin]

Obsidian looked at her sister with incredible concern as she continued her coughing fit. "Do you think a glass of water may help?" She asked, still holding on to Azirina to provide her with some stability.

Hefdet said nothing, but shook his head as he kept his lips pressed together. He wanted to laugh, but didn't want whatever Molag's next action would be to disturb Azirina more.

Family is more then blood

The city glowed like the embers of a dying fire in the dawn as she drove through the streets. Azirina Kharabbi had a job to do, and as police drove past her with sirens blaring, she smirked. The boot of her car thudded as she pulled up to the house, pulling her sunglasses from her face and placing them on her head.

“Come on you.” She said, opening the boot and throwing the body over her shoulder. From beneath the hood on their face, the stranger yelled, pulling against their bindings. Azirina carried them in, heading into the main room.

“I got them Boss.” She said, dropping the body and pulling the hood of to reveal a low ranked member who had been pulling their name through the mud.

@obsidian-dovahkiin

[obsidian-dovahkiin]

Obsidian looked at her sister with incredible concern as she continued her coughing fit. "Do you think a glass of water may help?" She asked, still holding on to Azirina to provide her with some stability.

Hefdet said nothing, but shook his head as he kept his lips pressed together. He wanted to laugh, but didn't want whatever Molag's next action would be to disturb Azirina more.

Family is more then blood

The city glowed like the embers of a dying fire in the dawn as she drove through the streets. Azirina Kharabbi had a job to do, and as police drove past her with sirens blaring, she smirked. The boot of her car thudded as she pulled up to the house, pulling her sunglasses from her face and placing them on her head.

“Come on you.” She said, opening the boot and throwing the body over her shoulder. From beneath the hood on their face, the stranger yelled, pulling against their bindings. Azirina carried them in, heading into the main room.

“I got them Boss.” She said, dropping the body and pulling the hood of to reveal a low ranked member who had been pulling their name through the mud.

@obsidian-dovahkiin

[obsidian-dovahkiin]

This was probably for couples, but I couldn't help making Obsidian and Vorcano. Bastards together 💜

Seen this little game going around and wanted to switch it up. So here is my OC, Caterina Motierre along with Vilkas.

Link is [Right here!]

I tag @korvanjund @ask-demon-princess-astarte​ & anyone else who wishes to do this. Lemme see those beautiful OCs. 

[obsidian-dovahkiin]

As Obsidian and Hefdet tried to ascend the stairs, they heard Azirina's cries even louder, and were stopped by Molag blocking the bottom of the stairs. Hefdet checked if Molag was okay, albeit while trying to stifle a laugh. Obsidian bolted up the stairs, to try and slow Azirina's coughs.

She gently rubbed her hand over Azirina's back, and held her other arm around her shoulder. "Just try to focus on breathing, okay?"

Family is more then blood

The city glowed like the embers of a dying fire in the dawn as she drove through the streets. Azirina Kharabbi had a job to do, and as police drove past her with sirens blaring, she smirked. The boot of her car thudded as she pulled up to the house, pulling her sunglasses from her face and placing them on her head.

“Come on you.” She said, opening the boot and throwing the body over her shoulder. From beneath the hood on their face, the stranger yelled, pulling against their bindings. Azirina carried them in, heading into the main room.

“I got them Boss.” She said, dropping the body and pulling the hood of to reveal a low ranked member who had been pulling their name through the mud.

@obsidian-dovahkiin

[obsidian-dovahkiin]

oc ask game.

this is based on a personality test found on psych central. send numbers and an oc :D

is your oc easily bothered by things?

how easily does your oc make friends?

does your oc go beyond what they have to do or do they usually do just enough work to get by?

is your oc respectful of others?

is your oc imaginative or more down-to-earth?

is your oc comfortable with themselves?

does your oc plan things and stick to it or do they make it up as their go?

was their life eventful before the start of the story, or was it more dull?

do they have the habit to insult other people?

would your oc be described as “the life of the party”?

are they critical of others?

do they like art? what is their favorite type (paintings, songs, fashion, etc)?

are they more accepting or more controlling of the people in their life?

is your oc a good listener?

are they opinionated or more willing to change their minds?

are they the kind of person who’s always on the defensive?

do people like hanging around them? do they have a positive, friendly energy?

is your oc a procastinator? if they are, what’s an example of how much?

do they tend to panic in certain situations or are they more calm?

are they vengeful?

what are some skills your oc has a talent for and what are some that they worked for?

are they more socially awkward or socially confident?

what is something really dumb that irritates your oc a lot?

do they tend to see the good in people?

what does it take for your oc to trust someone?

do they have a lot of mood swings?

do they like to be the center of attention or do they prefer to be in the background?

do people think they’re pretentious?

is your oc detail oriented or do they focus more on the big picture?

which highschool movie stereotype would they fit best?

are they good giving advice?

which one of the 7 deadly sins fit your oc more? do they see it as a flaw?

is your oc more likely to keep their feelings to themselves or to share them?

[obsidian-dovahkiin]

Obsidian and Hefdet were sipping their drinks, when they heard Azirina’s voice echo around the house. 

“What on earth...did he ask you to distract me?!” Obsidian exclaimed, setting down her glass. She growled slightly as she bolted out of the room and up the stairs to her sister’s aid, Hefdet following close behind. 

Family is more then blood

The city glowed like the embers of a dying fire in the dawn as she drove through the streets. Azirina Kharabbi had a job to do, and as police drove past her with sirens blaring, she smirked. The boot of her car thudded as she pulled up to the house, pulling her sunglasses from her face and placing them on her head.

“Come on you.” She said, opening the boot and throwing the body over her shoulder. From beneath the hood on their face, the stranger yelled, pulling against their bindings. Azirina carried them in, heading into the main room.

“I got them Boss.” She said, dropping the body and pulling the hood of to reveal a low ranked member who had been pulling their name through the mud.

@obsidian-dovahkiin

[obsidian-dovahkiin]

Obsidian and Hefdet walked down to the kitchen, following the growing smell of the pizza. Of all the rooms in their house, Obsidian spent the most time in there. When she wasn’t eating, she would be cooking or talking to the staff that passed through. 

Once inside, Obsidian hopped onto the black counter of the centre island, as Hefdet looked around in wonder. 

“How much money do your family have?!” He exclaimed. 

“Too much,” Obsidian replied. “It’s nice to live in such a wonderful home though. And at least my mother’s worked for it.” 

Hefdet continued to look around their kitchen, while Obsidian jumped down, and moved to the other side of the kitcheen, where the chefs were finishing cooking the pizza. 

“It smells wonderful, as usual,” she smiled, as she reached up to a cupboard and took out two glasses. 

“Do you want wine, or do you want to drink grape juice from a wine glass instead?” She laughed, setting them upon the marble of the counter. 

“Hm, wine sounds good but I definetly prefer the second. A glass of your finest grape juice please, my lady.” 

Family is more then blood

The city glowed like the embers of a dying fire in the dawn as she drove through the streets. Azirina Kharabbi had a job to do, and as police drove past her with sirens blaring, she smirked. The boot of her car thudded as she pulled up to the house, pulling her sunglasses from her face and placing them on her head.

“Come on you.” She said, opening the boot and throwing the body over her shoulder. From beneath the hood on their face, the stranger yelled, pulling against their bindings. Azirina carried them in, heading into the main room.

“I got them Boss.” She said, dropping the body and pulling the hood of to reveal a low ranked member who had been pulling their name through the mud.

@obsidian-dovahkiin

[obsidian-dovahkiin]

Headcanons

[obsidian-dovahkiin]

"Thank god for that. Fine, I'll go ask her. If not I'll think of something," he grumbled, walking up the stairs where the sisters went.

Their house was large and confusing. He walked for a good two minutes before he found them. Obsidian was stood with her back pressed to the door singing, with Azirina's slightly mumbled voice coming from behind the door.

"There you are! How on earth do you guys not get lost in this place? Anyway Obsidian, I think your mum was calling you," he lied.

She shook her head. "I didn't hear anything. And she usually sends someone up if it's urgent. Thanks for telling me, but I'll wait for one of the guards," she smiled, continuing to sing.

"Oh, okay. I'll go and let her know," he backed down before turning around. As he was walking, he heard a small groan.

"What was that? Are you okay?"

"Yeah I'm fine. Just hungry," she admitted, crossing her arms over her chest slightly.

"Well one of the chefs is making pizza in the kit-"

Before he could finish, Obsidian knocked on the door and told Azirina she would be back in a few minutes.

"Well come on then, I'm literally going to die of starvation," she exaggerated, holding his hand.

Family is more then blood

The city glowed like the embers of a dying fire in the dawn as she drove through the streets. Azirina Kharabbi had a job to do, and as police drove past her with sirens blaring, she smirked. The boot of her car thudded as she pulled up to the house, pulling her sunglasses from her face and placing them on her head.

“Come on you.” She said, opening the boot and throwing the body over her shoulder. From beneath the hood on their face, the stranger yelled, pulling against their bindings. Azirina carried them in, heading into the main room.

“I got them Boss.” She said, dropping the body and pulling the hood of to reveal a low ranked member who had been pulling their name through the mud.

@obsidian-dovahkiin

[obsidian-dovahkiin]

"By asking her like a normal human being?!" Hefdet told him, continuing to move back.

"Seriously Molag, I could just pretend or go and ask her to move, just don't touch me"

Family is more then blood

The city glowed like the embers of a dying fire in the dawn as she drove through the streets. Azirina Kharabbi had a job to do, and as police drove past her with sirens blaring, she smirked. The boot of her car thudded as she pulled up to the house, pulling her sunglasses from her face and placing them on her head.

“Come on you.” She said, opening the boot and throwing the body over her shoulder. From beneath the hood on their face, the stranger yelled, pulling against their bindings. Azirina carried them in, heading into the main room.

“I got them Boss.” She said, dropping the body and pulling the hood of to reveal a low ranked member who had been pulling their name through the mud.

@obsidian-dovahkiin

[obsidian-dovahkiin]

"Don't you dare hit me Molag," he said, taking large step away from him. "You are really going to hit me just so you can go perv on her?!"

Family is more then blood

The city glowed like the embers of a dying fire in the dawn as she drove through the streets. Azirina Kharabbi had a job to do, and as police drove past her with sirens blaring, she smirked. The boot of her car thudded as she pulled up to the house, pulling her sunglasses from her face and placing them on her head.

“Come on you.” She said, opening the boot and throwing the body over her shoulder. From beneath the hood on their face, the stranger yelled, pulling against their bindings. Azirina carried them in, heading into the main room.

“I got them Boss.” She said, dropping the body and pulling the hood of to reveal a low ranked member who had been pulling their name through the mud.

@obsidian-dovahkiin

[obsidian-dovahkiin]

“Absolutley not. I’m not messing with that. I don’t want to get thrown down the stairs by an angry Obsidian,” Hefdet announced, putting his hands in his pockets. “If you want her to move, you go go do it yourself.” 

Family is more then blood

The city glowed like the embers of a dying fire in the dawn as she drove through the streets. Azirina Kharabbi had a job to do, and as police drove past her with sirens blaring, she smirked. The boot of her car thudded as she pulled up to the house, pulling her sunglasses from her face and placing them on her head.

“Come on you.” She said, opening the boot and throwing the body over her shoulder. From beneath the hood on their face, the stranger yelled, pulling against their bindings. Azirina carried them in, heading into the main room.

“I got them Boss.” She said, dropping the body and pulling the hood of to reveal a low ranked member who had been pulling their name through the mud.

@obsidian-dovahkiin