#and they would look ridiculously out of place in skyrim

[eachuisge-cc]

I almost regret making a Bruma patch at all because all it does is give everyone and their dog an opening to ask me if I'll put the generic barb/warmblood looking model in skyrim which is the exact opposite of why I even made the mod

[argisthebulwark]

"Are You Two Together?"

summary: Short pieces of how I think various Skyrim men would react to this question (they're all definitely together) gn reader, no pronouns or y/n used. feat: Brynjolf, Vilkas, Farkas, Arnbjorn, Cicero, Erandur, Balimund, Mercer warnings: slightly suggestive (Brynjolf, Erandur)

You can feel Brynjolf’s confidence skyrocket at the question. One hand sneaks to your lower back to draw you even closer. It’s absolutely the last thing you need - if anyone in the Guild knew about you two it would ruin their opinion of you. Barely getting your footing and already sleeping with your mentor? Ignoring Brynjolf’s cocky grin you clear your throat, trying to banish the heat in your cheeks.  “Of course not.” Your words aren’t exactly convincing when you consider the messy state of your armor and the clear bite marks on his exposed skin. Mercer’s eyes dart between the obvious clues, offering nothing but an unimpressed grunt before turning away.  “Right. That would be unprofessional.”

“Absolutely not.” Vilkas answers despite the hand clasped in yours. You fight to stifle a laugh at his staunch refusal to share his personal life with others. “We’re clearly coworkers. Why would you ask such a question?”  “Well, you’re -” the poor recruit stammers into silence when Vilkas' glare turns to them. You’ll chastise him after the lad returns to his group of whelps across the hall but you know how much he delights in someone thinking he’s frightening.  “The Harbinger’s relationship status is none of your business.” His tone is curt, a contrast to the delicate way his thumb traces over the back of your hand. “Now leave us.”

“Yeah, I’m courting them.” Farkas snorts at the question. He thought it was fairly obvious - the two of you were practically joined at the hip. On the rare occasion one of you left Jorrvaskr without the other he swept you into his arms upon returning. He sat dutifully at your side while you sorted through the mess of being a Harbinger, planning out training routines or sharpening his sword.  “Hear that, love? I’m courting you.” Turning that dazzling grin on you, Farkas places an exaggerated kiss on your hand. “Many apologies for skipping a few steps.”

“Why?” Neither confirming nor denying Arnbjorn continues with his work, fully ignoring the conversation. As you’ve spent many days before you’re perched on his workbench, parchments spread around you entirely in his way. He’s grumbled about the mess a few times but hushes when you retort that he is far more interesting.  “Why would you think Arnbjorn and I are together?” Sharpening your tone, you needle the young trainee with the question. You see uncertainty in the way he glances between you and Arnbjorn’s tense back.  “Well, some of the others were talking.”  “What do you think about that?” Arnbjorn pauses at your teasing tone, a gruff hand on your thigh as he reaches for the correct tool. The poor recruit looks ready to bolt. “Sounds like a ridiculous rumor.”

Cicero is absolutely overjoyed at the question. The mere thought of others knowing he is with his Listener, of being associated with the one he loves! He’s practically bouncing at your side, hand grasping yours to his chest while you await whatever he’s got to say.  “Is it so obvious?” He sighs dramatically, a softness in his voice usually reserved just for you. “Oh, truly Cicero is quite the lovesick fool. It appears everyone has learned that the Listener owns his silly heart.” 

“As a Priest of Mara, I love all of her lady’s subjects.” Erandur’s practiced words do nothing to hide the telltale marks you’d left on his throat. The skin’s a tender reminder of the night before - you sneaking through the temple into his chambers, his words like prayers promising whatever you wish as long as you keep touching him. Clearing his throat Erandur forces himself to refocus on the acolyte standing before him. “I would never allow them special privileges due to any personal feelings.” 

“Never would’ve thought to put a label on it.” Balimund would surely get a kick out of the question. You don’t mind the interest - after the amount of time you’ve dedicated to him during your increasing visits to Riften it’s hardly a secret. You never intended on sharing your relationship with strangers but Balimund’s reliable hand on your shoulder or the way you lean into his chest in the market must’ve drawn some eyes. You’d never discussed your relationship, simply aware of shared feelings.  “I guess we are.” He answers and that soft smile is enough to warm your heart. 

“No,” Mercer lies through his teeth. You’d likely act no different if asked such a question - there’s too much at stake. If one lie unravels the others will surely follow. If anyone begins to speculate about your romantic entanglement with the Guild Master there’s no telling what else they could uncover. Ignoring the little twinge of hurt in your chest you return to your practice dummy, sure that you’ll say the same if they aren’t convinced.  “I hardly know their name.” He scoffs, kicking a foot up on his desk. “No special treatment around here.” 

[theoneandonlysemla]

WIP Word Game

Thank you for the tag @skyrim-forever <3

Tagging: @vanilleeistee @sheirukitriesfandom @dirty-bosmer @heavy-metal-dick Your word is STAR

Rules: You get a word and share a sentence/excerpt from your WIP(s) that starts with each letter of your word.

My word is NIGHT and I searched through the new WIP chapter of A Taste of Death for this :) Here we go!

N - Nonetheless, he had been the one to come back to her, to pull her out of her misery and give her what she needed. And all that unconditionally. Ria’s mouth gaped open as their eyes crossed for the split of a second. Unconditional. Was it possible, that he did love her?

I - “I look horrendous. I have ruined my dress; I am so sorry. It’s the only pretty one I had and I ruined it,” she stammered, voice brittle and shoulders shaking.

G - Gently, she places her hands on his knees, thumbs drawing circles while watching his reaction. To her delight, she noted how his lips had parted a bit, his curious glance lingering on her. With her fingers moving upwards at an agonisingly slow pace, he caught a glimpse of his teeth and with his head lowering, silver strands fell into his face.

H - He stole a kiss from her lips that she could not, did not want, to return. It had been him; he had done all of this to her, he had killed her. And what he had done to her was inject her with a part of his power that now lived in her veins, a disease. He was an infection, one that was never to be cured and what she hated most about it, was the she loved and detested him at the same strength. She despised his cruelty and his dark powers and yet she yearned and longed and craved for him like she had done for no one and nothing before.  

T -  The smile returned to his lips.         “I am the air you breathe; I am the spider in the corner observing you. I am what crawls through your brain and swims in your every vein. I live in your mind; don't think you can hide anything from me.” He paused, studying her slightest emotion.     “Your assumption that you would ever have me in the palm of your hand, have any form of power over me, is ridiculous. So, have you learnt from your mistake?”

[changelingsandothernonsense]

Wip Whenever

I think I might sequester wip posts to once a week on a Thursday (coz it's Thursday). I'll post art and maybe a writing snippet if I'm up for it. Just gotta keep wips low-key.

anyway I got tagged by @skyrim-forever @firefly-factory @pocket-vvardvark Tagging @nyarevar and @archangelsunited. No pressure 🫂 The rest of the post is under the cut.

I've been working on the render that I started in December, just have his hair and some extra lighting details left.

And an idea for the next render

And a snippet from You, where Josh gets harassed by Hircine again.

“Fine,” I finally replied, shoving the ring back in my pocket, “What do you want me to do.”

The spectre nodded again, pleased with my answer, “I see you’ve matured since we last met, Blodskaal. I expected to hear protests?”

I sighed, “An what would refusing the Lord of the Hunt do? I’m old Hircine, I’m too fucking tired to argue.”

“You are a strange one, Nerevarine but I will make use of your—” The spectre paused for a moment and blinked its large eyes at me again, “Compliance.”

I grit my teeth as Hircine continued to rattle on, my hand still clasping the ring that I had shoved into my pocket.

“The one who stole my ring has fled to what he believes is his sanctuary,” Hircine continued, “Just as a bear climbs a tree to escape the hunter but only ends up trapping himself. Seek out this rogue shifter who has lost my favour, flay the skin from his body as you once did centuries ago and make it an offering to me.”

I shook my head as I finally let go of the ring in my pocket and folded my arms, “You want me to do what I did to Heart-Fang? Why should I do that? That kid’s done nothing to me.”

“Did Tharsten Heart-Fang do anything to you in the Hunting Grounds, Blodskaal?” Hircine countered, “Or was he acting on his nature?”

I rolled my eyes, “Heart-Fang attacked me in that maze, I don’t much care for his reasoning. That kid back in the gaols did nothing but annoy me a little. It’s not an equivalent.”

“It hasn’t stopped you before, Blodskaal.”

‘He’s right, Sero—'

‘Shut it,’ I mumbled under my breath. The last thing I needed was Nerevar’s input. It’s his bloodthirstiness that got me into that mess out on Solstheim in the first place. I was content pissing my time away watching that mine.

“Not an equivalent,” I spat, replying to the two of them. I’d killed my fair share of people for ridiculous reasons, sure but I didn’t relish in having blood on my hands. Well, not the part of me that I associated with my old self anyway. There was a part of me that relished it but I’d always attributed that to Nerevar’s influence. A partial melding between the two of us that didn’t quite work in his favour.

It's a part of me that does not mix well with who I want to be. It churns about in my gut and merges with my paranoia like a demented slurry. I’d always tried to push that desire out of my mind, but there's always something that grabs me and throws me back into wanton violence. Then I spend all my fucking time justifying to myself why I did it in the first place. If they attacked me, then I have a reason to kill as I wish.

The thought just makes me feel sick.

“There is no retribution in the hunt, Nerevarine. I do not seek vengeance as you do, no. Merely the glory of the hunt,” Hircine’s voice boomed throughout the clearing, and I struggled not to cup my hands around my ears. That kind of vulnerability in the face of the likes of Hircine would be a grave mistake on my behalf. Though it seems that the spectre noticed my discomfort regardless, “Nerevarine, there are countless others that would gladly accept my favour. They will hunt him while you delay. It is your choice.”

“I’m not looking for your favour,” I replied flatly, “If I recall you orchestrated this whole thing to lure me out of hiding. Why the fuck would I seek you out of my own volition?”

“Be careful with your words, Blodskaal,” Hircine threatened, “Do not think you have the upper hand here just because you possess my artifact. You may have once been favoured by Azura but she has long abandoned you. You crave that favour again. That is why you will do as I command, because you are compelled to do so by your very nature—”

I spat on the ground in front of me, the taste of ash burning in my throat as my fury rose. I hated this sort of tactic, insult aspects of myself that I had no fucking control over and attribute everything I do as an inevitability because of that. As if I was never capable of change. That I needed to be treated like shit just to get me to comply. I was no stranger to it, whether it was my bastard of a grandfather, Orvas Dren, Caius Cosades, Nerevar, the Daedric Princes, the fucking Tribunal! Fuck even you at the end reduced me to nothing but the curse that corrupts my flesh!

Everyone who ever believed in me is either dead or too far away to help me right now. All I had at the end of the day was myself and I’d been fighting alone for two human lifetimes at this point. The only person who could stand up for me is myself and I knew there was one thing this fucker was wrong about.

Azura never truly abandoned me, I abandoned her.

“Fuck this,” I growled, turning away from the spectre. I was done parlaying with a fucking Daedra. It’s rid myself of the ring in some cave or a deep hole or something and hope that it doesn’t come back to bite me in the ass again. I heard my guardian move and crackle as Hircine’s voice boomed through the clearing once again.

“You never had a choice.”

And my own voice echoed his words as I hit the forest floor.

[lady-knuckles]

Anyways, here is my outline of the Skyrim prologue that I'm writing for Taylani, one of my dragonborns for my massive story "Dragonblood and Magefire." This is literally copied and pasted from scrivener. It's "edited" for grammar and shit. Some names may be misspelled because I was tired of editing and it was late. It's most likely going to change because I'm trying to practice doing descriptive writing which is very hard for me. I'm just trying to get the story out of my head, I haven't written in like 5 years. 😭Anyways enjoy and please be nice .🥺

Before the Storm

Synopsis:

[  Before the events of The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim start, Nalani and Taylani are seen moseying about in their respective areas. Taylani is found toying away in the Thalmor Embassy, wanting to explore the province. First Emissary Elenwen decides to give her a chance to leave the Embassy on her own to start her first mission to root out Talos worshipers. ]

Outline:

[ It’s Sundas afternoon at the beginning of the story, and Taylani is bored and needing something to do. She bothers the various guards, Brelas, Malborn, Razelan, both bards Illdi and Grete, and the cook Tsavani before Rulindil intervenes on everyone’s behalf to walk her down to the Solar to speak to Elenwen.  She’s concerned that she’s in trouble now, considering her last mishap that left Elenwen furious for weeks. She’s surprised that, finally, Elenwen wants to get rid of her and send her off on her own for a few days for a simple mission. She’s to be sent to the far reaches of Skyrim to infiltrate a Talos worshiping den. Taylani is excited and begins to rush out of Elenwen’s office before being scolded. She prepares that night for her journey ahead. ]

Part One:

Scene 1:  The Thalmor Embassy reeks of cold and calculated Altmer pretending to look busy. It had been some time now since the changing of the guard for the afternoon, and the afternoon shift looked as if they were ready to pass out from boredom. Everyone is anticipating Morndas when all of the various Justiciars and their merry band of soldiers and archers are sent out to spread “peace and prosperity” to all of Skyrim. There are already a multitude of Thalmor agents spread out throughout the province, but since the death and murder of High King Torygg at the hands of Ulfric Stormcloak himself, that number has quadrupled. 

Elenwen plans to leave this evening to head out to Helgen, a decent-sized village in the Falkreath hold. She is being escorted by the finest Thalmor and Imperial battalion that septims and superiority can’t buy. No one has been told why, but they know she will be on critical business for a few days. This is why she wants Taylani out and about. She refuses to have her crawling up a wall and annoying Third Emissary Rulindil while he interrogates the captured people accused of Talos worship, Stormcloak rebelling, and other random things that the Dominion is interested in. 

Taylani sits at the edge of her bed, freshly awoken from a nap from sheer boredom and the desire to harass everyone. To not look like a completely haggard individual, she dressed in her finest Thalmor armor and proceeded downstairs to the foyer, as she was ridiculously late for guard duty.

“Where the hell have you been?” shouted one of the Thalmor Wizards, “you were supposed to be at your post hours ago! What type of place do you think we run here?” Taylani rolled her eyes and whisked her hand, shushing the wizard. 

“I know, I know! I was taking a nap. It’s not like anything is going on right now that requires our attention.” 

“That’s NOT the point,” argued the wizard, fastly losing his patience, “ you are supposed to be where you are supposed to be at all times! Make me not remind you again, Ms. Taylani. You are here by the graciousness of our Lady, First Emissary Elenwen, through your father. I think you would agree not to forget her kindness.” 

Taylani sighed, mumbled, and mocked under her breath as she walked to the cold and windy courtyard. 

In the courtyard, the wind was furious, cold, and malicious. Taylani was struggling to stay at her post. Pacing back and forth was starting to run her ragged. She went to one of the soldiers, attempting small talk, but the soldier wasn’t having any of it. 

“You know, Ms. Taylani, you talk too much. You must miss Summerset and the warmth of the Isles. I guess I’ll entertain you for a spell.” 

Taylani, excited, was ready to give her the gift of gab. “Why YES I miss being warm, seeing my friends, and eating good, delicious food, and my mother and I don’t want to be here! I am being tortured!” 

The soldier looked at her with pity. 

“Dear, we all miss the Isles. We have a duty here that must be carried out. It’s imperative to get this wet, cold, and smelly province under control. We cannot allow the Aldmeri Dominion to waver to a place like Skyrim. We already have a problem with Hammerfell not submitting.” 

Taylani is getting irritated with stereotypical Thalmor talk and is interjected. “Ok, and I know all of this, we all know this. I don’t see the point of ME being in Skyrim. Why couldn’t I be stationed somewhere decent like Cyrodill or High Rock? I’m going to catch an illness from being in Skyrim. It’s so dreary!” 

The Thalmor soldier, seeing their wizard superior coming, proceeds to hush Taylani and tell her to be at her post, but it was too late as the wizard split the two to opposite sides of the courtyard. 

Taylani spent the rest of her shift bothering everyone in the courtyard so much that Third Emissary Rulindil immediately repositioned her inside the grand hall. 

“Can you please act like you’ve been somewhere?” Rulindil pleaded. “I’m going to assume you’re suffering from the cold and are losing your mind. Go warm up and do not bother the servants. You keep this up and you will be punished!” 

Taylani started whining again, and Rulindil silenced her. 

“No buts! I don’t understand how you can be such an outstanding soldier, an accomplished wizard and archer, a Justiciar of everything, and you behave like an insolent fool!” 

Taylani felt little at that moment. Rulindil sounded like her father, always scolding her for whining and complaining like a child. She could never help herself when something wasn’t right to her. It was always about her wants and needs. She quietly walked back inside to the grand hall. 

“I’m so hungry, hmmf. I wonder what Tsavani is cooking.” She says to herself. “That cat always has something going on there, and I want to find out what.”

She hurries herself along to the kitchens to hopefully grab a snack; she figures she doesn’t have that cranky Rulindil down her backside anymore, and it shouldn’t be a problem to eat. 

“Yes….Taylani! My favorite little Pest. What are you doing in the larder? You aren’t coming to find food again, are you? You know it’s not time for you all to eat. Get out before you get us all in trouble!” Tsavani, wrinkling her nose, whiskers going askew, hisses at Taylani. 

“Oh, shush, Tsavani! I’m hungry and I need something to keep me going before dinner. I know it’s 4 PM, but I’m starving so badly. Please, can’t I have something to nibble on?”

Tsavani sighs before handing her some seared slaughterfish and grilled leeks on a plate, a bowl of horker and ash yam stew, and a bottle of Honningbrew mead. “Don’t say I do nothing for you, you spoiled elf! That should keep you full until morning.” Taylani twirls around and hugs Tsavani for the food. She sits down in the kitchen to eat, her mouth filled with seared slaughterfish, saying thanks for the meal in an intangible manner. Tsavani rolls her eyes and finishes chopping vegetables for the soup this evening. 

It is now evening, and the Embassy is busy to the brim. Thalmor agents are running about everywhere, preparing for missions. A special set of agents is preparing to travel with the First Emissary to Helgen. A sudden turn of events has put the Empire, mainly the Thalmor, in an extraordinary situation. Various agents are giving their goodbyes as they prepare to enter the treacherous Skyrim landscape, praying they will see their companions and friends again and emerge victorious in their endeavors. Taylani, once again bored out of her mind, decides to bother Malborn for a drink. 

“MALBORN!” 

“Shush, You! Why are you yelling my name out like that? You nearly gave me a heart attack! What is wrong with you?! What do you want now?!”

Taylani hugged her favorite Wood Elf, damn near choking him to death.

“Can I please have something good to drink? I don’t want that ale you gave me last time. It wasn’t enjoyable. I can’t believe Nords drink piss on the regular like this, no wonder they have no sense.”

“Well, as you can see, Taylani, I am preparing selections for the feast this evening, you can get whatever you want at that time. Until then, please find something decent to do before you get us in trouble again, please?”

“I don’t want to wait that long. I just had some dinner from Tsavani.”

“What! You weren’t supposed to do anything, by the Eight, you’ll have us all down in the dungeons messing around with your ass! Look,” Malborn says while rubbing his face, trying to calm himself down, “ I will give you some Black-Briar mead, it’s said to be very delicious and a staple up in Riften. If you get caught being ridiculously drunk, I only ask that you take the blame this time. You know my story more than anyone else here. I have everything to lose, Taylani.”

Taylani, feeling remorseful, understood how hard everything is for Malborn. He’s the last of his family as the Thalmor destroyed his home in Valenwood during the occupation. She once accidentally overheard him and Brelas talking about how he snuck through the Dominion’s background checks to support himself here. Taylani admired his bravery and always tried to protect him and Brelas when other agents were rude and disrespectful, but it didn’t always pan out as she planned. Her cunning and charm always showed through. 

“OK, Malborn, I’ll take the mead, it better be good. I’ll act like I have some sense. You know I don’t want anything happening to you.” She says with big, large elven puppy eyes. 

He scoffs and hands her a bottle of the Black-Briar mead. “I should be grateful,” he says, “you could have easily sold me out to Elenwen forever ago, and I thank you for never doing so. You do protect us here but damn if you don’t stay in the First Emisary’s graces.”

She cocks her head back, preparing to taste more piss before she realizes how delicious the mead is. 

“DAMN!” She shouts, almost alerting the guards around them, before closing her mouth out of shame. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to be loud, I thought you were lying when you said this was good, now THIS is worth something, why don’t the Nords brag about this mead, this needs to be everywhere in Tamriel!”

“What are you two doing drinking all my mead?”

Taylani and Malborn jump, startled at the voice behind them, only to laugh when they turn around. A drunken Redguard named Razlan appeared in the fray, doing his usual, harassing everything and everybody, very drunkenly and somehow allowed to do so. 

“Malborn, what did I tell you about sharing the good stuff? Especially not with her, she’ll drink everything and then what am I supposed to do, push some mead out of my ass? How do you expect me to survive in this dump of a providence if I don’t have my shit to drink?” 

Malborn curses under his breath, throws his hands up, and walks away, annoyed that he now has two drunks to watch over. 

“Razlan! My favorite drinking buddy! What do you have going on today?”

“Hey! That’s my line agent! Everyone’s running about whining about having to escort her excellency to a backwater village because the Imperial Army captured that guy who killed the Torygg guy up in Solitude. Sounds like you won’t have to mosey around Skyrim long after all, Hahahahahaha!”

Taylani was surprised to hear the news; she had no idea what was happening, and for once, she wanted to know more. 

“Hey, Raz, let’s chit-chat. Here’s some ale. So tell me, you mean to tell me that they finally captured that Ulfric Stormcloak guy? How and where? How do I not know anything about this? Where did you get your information from?”

“Hehehehe, well, little miss pretty, I overheard Rulindil and a few Thalmor Wizards talking about it in passing. You know, everyone thinks I’m too drunk to pay attention. The First Emissary is heading out to watch the execution so you can finally own Skyrim and add it to your collection of provinces. Isn’t that just beautiful?”

“I knew he knew something! I tried to ask him 100 different ways, and he wouldn’t tell me. Lying skeever bastard! I want to go now, that sounds like fun compared to staying in this cold and depressing hovel.”

Before she could utter another insult, Rulindil was on her like chaurus on an unsuspecting adventurer in the depths. He immediately pushed Razelan to the side, told him to leave the area, and planted his palms on Taylani’s shoulders. 

“You, stop your drinking and come with me, NOW. You insolent, pathetic being! Her Emissary wants to speak with you now. Let’s go!”

Everyone around stopped what they were doing to watch, some soldiers giggling with glee at the fact that Taylani is finally getting in trouble, others shamed that they have to share race with her, and others, like Malborn, Razelan, and Brelas, were concerned and scared for her. It’s not like she hasn’t been in trouble with the First Emissary before; it’s just that she gets away with everything that no other Thalmor agent gets away with because of her family. She drunkenly comes to while following Rulindil and his two soldiers escorting her through the grand hall, into the courtyard, and Elenwen’s Solar. 

Scene 2:  The Solar of the Thalmor Embassy, the inner sanctum, is where all the diabolical meetings and plans happen. Any and every bit of discussion that enters here never gets out, even by Elenwen’s most trusted agents. Typically, it is an honor even to be allowed to breach the inner sanctum, but in Taylani’s case, every visit here has been depressing. 

They walk into Elenwen’s office, where she sits calmly as if she isn’t preparing to rip Taylani’s heart out and eat it herself. Barely shifting in her seat, she has a stack of documents at her disposal, casually reading through them when everyone enters the room. 

“Please, close the door, Rulindil. Your guards may be dismissed. Come, Ms. Taylani, we have much to discuss. Please, have a seat.”

Taylani does exactly as she’s told. She’s been here before; the niceties will rain before the insults and threats are issued. She remembers the first time she was in trouble here at the Embassy, she found herself like she is now, bored with life, wanting to do something, so as usual, she starts speaking about things she shouldn’t, especially not to a Thalmor agent. Very inquisitive, always seeking knowledge. She would be a perfect worshiper for Xarxes, maybe even Hermaeus Mora. She always gets what she wants, even if there is a cost, a penalty that she must suffer. She was bored enough to sneak into the Solar one day. No one will ever know how unprotected it was that day, but she is why extra soldiers are stationed around the courtyard. Taylani walked in, took a drink from the bar, ate some fruit, then moseyed upstairs to look around. The silly girl must have been too dizzy from the ale to realize she wasn’t in the main chambers of the Embassy and took a nap on Elenwen’s sofa in her oddly unlocked bedroom. She awoke in a prison cell, chained to the wall, dazed and confused, with Elenwen and Rulindil looking over her with disgust. She was the talk of the Embassy. Every soldier, worker, agent, wizard, etc., knew what happened and would occasionally taunt her into submission. She was surprised she didn’t receive a scalding letter from her parents and siblings, a blessing from the Eight she describes. That was the last time she ever cared to do something that foolish again, but this time, everything felt different. 

“Do you know why I called you into my office today, Taylani?” Said Elenwen. 

“I called you in because I have a mission for you!” Her eyes widened with disturbing glee that made Taylani freeze to her knees. 

“You will be sent out, on your own, to gather intel about Talos worship here in Skyrim and eliminate it. Your first task will be to go to a Shrine of Talos nestled in a small pond near Cradlecrush Rock in Eastmarch and eliminate any Talos worshipers. I will not accept any failures whatsoever. Once you are finished, you will report back here.”

Taylani, in her haste, realized that she was being banished from the Embassy, and blurted out. 

“But…First Emissary, alone? By myself? Can’t I at least have a partner with me? I know nothing of this land and don’t trust this stupid map. This is no man’s land, I must have someone with me.���

“But didn’t you tell the others plenty of times that you wanted to leave and explore the wilds of Skyrim? Is this not your chance that I am giving you? You have been indignantly repugnant at every turn since you’ve been stationed here. You have been annoying and not useful in every sense of the word. Am I not being coy with you at this very moment, holding back the scathing that I want to bring down upon you, do not upset me, little girl.”

Taylani sat, quietly defeated by Elenwen’s words, looking to Rulindil for an ounce of support, only to see him smug with contempt for the First Emissary’s words. Taylani looked over to the window, then to the wall, feeling horrible that she was being executed for existing. She knows her feelings are being exaggerated, but she can’t help it. 

“Fine,” she says as she slouches back in the chair, “ when do I leave out for my grand adventure, Your Greatness?”

Rulindil snaps at Taylani’s disrespectful comment towards Elenwen, ready to slap her at a moment’s whim. The First Emissary raises her hand towards him to calm him down and stay poised, alert, and demure. 

“I want you gone by tomorrow morning, no later than 10 AM. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes…First Emissary. But before I leave your office…,” Taylani begins, looking at Rulindil very cheekily, with a smirk large enough to fill a whole room, “…I…overheard that you’ll be going out on a mission of sorts to Helgen…”

Very frustratingly, Elenwen rubbed her forehead, hand covering her view from Taylani, only to look at Rulindil with the side-eye. She cleared her throat before placing herself back in a poised disposition. 

“Why yes, dear, I am heading out to Helgen for some critical business, business so important, it might even have you heading back to Alinor to be with family, which is why I am sending you out, so as not to get into any problems while I’m gone.”

“I guess I understand. Fine, I’ll go. Is there anything else you need from me, First Emissary?” Taylani asked. 

“No, my dear, I think you will be okay. You’re strong, you’re an Altmer, you must walk with confidence and know you are the best Tamriel has to offer, especially in these despicable Nord lands. Remember, you are Thalmor first and foremost. We will reunite Tamriel under our rule, one province at a time. Our time is coming soon, and we will have Skyrim in our hands. You will see your family soon and tell them how you helped unite Skyrim back into the Empire.”

Taylani felt oddly reassured and loved in that moment, but she knew she couldn’t just get up and hug the First Emissary; that would be weird, and she’d probably be smited. Regardless, it made her feel good knowing that the little civil war in Skyrim would be over quickly, and she could return to the Summerset Isles to be with her parents again. She would love to see her siblings and old friends again. She was so excited for once while living in a cold, dreary place. She said thank you to First Emissary Elenwen, bid Rulindil adieu, and left the office, but not before standing outside to listen to Elenwen curse out Rulindil for not keeping a tight lip on things, as that information should have never gotten out, especially to Taylani of all people. 

Scene 3: Taylani returned to her room to pack, taking all she deemed necessary. She was excited but scared, excited that she would be finally leaving the Embassy, but fearful of the unknown, of what Skyrim had to offer. She laid on her bed, reading over the map that Elenwen gave her, marking all of the towns and cities she wanted to visit along the way to the Shrine of Talos. 

She once again had that voice in her mind, telling her that all of this is stupid. She could have forgone the hassle of joining the Aldmeri Dominion, gone to college, and traveled Tamriel alone, making connections along the way. This is what her father wanted. All the children of the Valtoris family had to join the Aldmeri Dominion and swear fealty to the Thalmor for Altmer Supremacy. She never really believed in it, but has never been around other Mer and Man races to give a proper opinion. 

She was but a tween when the Great War started, and she often would hear things from her Father and Mother, but none of it she understood until one day her brother came back from a battle, fatally bruised. They had many adventures together in the Isles, and seeing him standing by death’s door radicalized her. She hated everyone who didn’t swear their support to the Thalmor cause and was eager to join as soon as she was old enough to avenge her brother. She trained in her magic and her sword and shield so that whenever she was on the battlefield, she could decimate anybody who got in her way, and she did. She killed so many opposing soldiers that it became taxing on her mental health. The scream and cries to the gods, but it’s what the Dominion wanted, right? 

She pushed those thoughts and memories to the back of her mind, thinking about the men she slept with to keep her cozy throughout the nights and her mind off the upcoming battles. Even that became exhausting. She finished packing everything before realizing she didn’t have enough septims to do anything with outside the Embassy. Stupid Elenwen didn’t provide her with money. How was she supposed to get supplies, food, or a place to stay at an inn? She would figure all that out in the morning, probably begging Rulindil for money so she wouldn’t suffer much. 

Finally settling in her thoughts, she got up to bathe and slept. 

Part Two:

Scene 1: It was Mondas morning, 8 am, when she woke up from her slumber. She had a very dark and confusing dream that made her restless throughout the night. A weird dream of a large lizard flying across the skies, talking to daedric princes, falling in love, and drinking blood. She had no idea what any of that meant, but what she did know was that she was hungry. Taylani managed to roll out of bed before remembering that she would be outside the Embassy by 10 am. Grateful that she remembered to pack before going to sleep, she dressed in her finest Thalmor Justiciar armor and took her precious ebony sword out to look at the details. She would eventually have to use it again. She then picked up her shield, attached it properly, and placed the bow and arrows in its holder on her traveling backpack. She deemed herself ready for anything, but what would be that anything to have her fight again? She hopes this task is easy and she can head back home soon. She’s tired of the fighting. Her stomach growls louder as she is reminded that she’s hungry. 

Scene 2: Taylani marches down the stairs to the kitchens, knowing she can get some food before heading out. She smells spices from the larder alone, seeping through the hall. Tsavani made her a champion’s breakfast because everything smells. She waltzes past two guards, humming about food while they shake their heads and chuckle at her. She knows everyone will miss her, annoying them for nothing is better in a cold, damp, and dark place than a bright smile. 

Scene 3: Taylani, now in the kitchen, looking over Tsavani’s shoulder, startles the poor khajiit into dropping random vegetables into the soup. “You little brat…” Tsavani hisses, “…aren’t you supposed to be leaving?” 

“Well, of course! Since everyone here is counting down the hours for me, I guess I wanted to stop in and get one last good meal before I die in this frozen wasteland!” Taylani snarls at Tsavani, surprisingly making her flinch and her whiskers curl. 

“Hush, Taylani, I will make you breakfast. I surely don’t want to be the reason you die before leaving the gate. Don’t say I never do anything for you, you spoiled elf!” Tsavani pauses her preparations and begins to make Taylani a meal: Two cooked eggs seasoned with salt, pepper, onions, bell pepper, garlic, leeks, and a lot of cheese, toasted multigrain bread with butter, and some freshly brewed pressed coffee. Taylani was ecstatic with the big plate in front of her, digging in as if she had never had food in her life. 

“You are such a greedy little thing. I will miss you for a while, but at least my kitchen will be peaceful.”

“Terrible, you are just terrible to me, Tsavani.” Says Taylani, with a mouth full of egg and almost choking on it. She takes a swig of coffee to wash down the thickness of the egg so she can breathe. “Like I said before, I almost choked, you’re so mean to me.”

“She couldn’t be too mean if she’s feeding you before you freeze to death in the wilderness!” In comes Brelas, laughing with Malborn, who comes to see Taylani before she leaves. 

“Brelas! Malborn! I’m going to miss you two so much!” Taylani expresses gratitude. Finishing her meal, she disposes of her meal and hugs the two warmly. Brelas and Malborn tell her to be safe and send letters since they know it will be a while before she returns to the Embassy. 

As the three continue to chat and eventually rope Tsavani into the conversation, Rulindil walks in, visibly frustrated at all the cheer. 

“Am I running a tavern here? What are all of you doing…..YOU! Why are you still here? Don’t you have a mission underway?” 

“Rulindil!” Yelled Taylani when the tall and menacing Altmer appeared. “Can I have some septims for food and lodging while I travel, please? I know you have some gold to spare.”

Tsavani, Brelas, and Malborn looked at each other with concern and were shocked at what Taylani had just asked. They all started disappearing, one by one, back to their positions. Rulindil scoffed at them as they moved to their designated spaces and went back to being annoyed with Taylani. 

“What…did you just ask of me? Do you think I would give you anything? How do you not have gold to spend? You get paid to serve here! Where…why…how…” Taylani, getting agitated with Rulindil, spouts in frustration at Rulindil’s face. 

“And how is a Thalmor agent supposed to uphold the law and be the best of the best and show these worthless bastards how to exist if I’m as poor as a temple skeever? Do you want to hear the First Emissary’s mouth when she finds out you failed to provide me with something as simple as some septims to exist properly? Am I just a basic Altmer to you? Should I write my father, don’t you all want to see me leave so you can have peace? What is it that you want, Third Emissary?” Taylani was visibly pissed at this point, ready to leave the embassy, sadly moving towards the great hall, slightly looking over her shoulder. 

Rulindil, annoyed by Taylani’s latest outburst, thinks about what she says and decides to humor her since she won’t be here to bother him while he’s interrogating suspects in the dungeon. 

“Ugh, Fine. You insolent child. Come with me to the Solar. We can’t afford you to make us all look like reprobates.” Rulindil says, defeated. Taylani turns back around, gleefully following behind him. She knows he’s annoyed, but he can’t do anything about it as Elenwen would have the final say, so, however, she isn’t here, and everyone knows Rulindil can be a pushover, especially for her. 

Ever since she arrived in Skyrim, she could sense his attraction for her. He isn’t even an evil-looking man, quite handsome in fact. Tall, nicely built with muscle, seemingly stoic. She can’t even lie that she doesn’t have a thing for him, too. He’s always busy torturing Talos worshipers and people whom the Aldmeri Dominion perceives as threatening to be fawned over like a precious deer. It was one night she couldn’t sleep as she had that weird nightmare again, flying lizards and blood and the darkness talking to her. She hates that dream so much that she tries to dream about other things, but it doesn’t work well, and she wakes up groggy. That night, she woke up and walked to the kitchens to get something to drink; an ale or some mead would calm her down into a peaceful slumber. When she arrived, she also found him in the kitchens drinking some mead, probably complaining about it. 

“Why are you up at this time of night?” He said. “You have guard duty in the morning. You should be sleeping. You’re always late anyway.” As he went back to drinking. 

“I can’t sleep, Third Emissary. I keep having nightmares.” She stated, sadly. 

“Come, have a seat, I’ll allow you to drink something, but you dare not speak about it, do you hear me?” He threatened, looking around as he got up to lock the kitchen doors.

They sat quietly for a couple of minutes before he asked her about her nightmare. 

“It’s weird,” she explained, “I keep seeing dragons flying all over, breathing fire, ice, lightning, and gods know whatever else. Then…it rains blood, dark voices start speaking to me about death and change, and it has to happen. And the war, I know nothing about this petty civil war that’s going on in Skyrim. Why am I dreaming about it? Very detailed. All sorts of monsters and daedra and just evil…” She stopped before the tears started rolling down her face. 

“Those sound like premonitions, Taylani. Of what’s to come. Or you could be eating something that’s making your brain overthink things. Regardless, it shouldn’t keep you from sleeping. Gods know how many times I have awakened to terrible dreams. But you keep moving, keep going, they will sort themselves out.” He was then concerned for her. He got up to sit closer to her; his attempt at consoling her felt good, probably the nicest thing he’s ever done in a very long time. She accepted his concerns and allowed him to sit next to her. Before she knew it, her shoulder was leaning next to his as a tear started falling from her eyes, and then another. He then wiped the tears he felt falling from her eyes onto his shoulders and held her face up to his. She felt the intensity of his touch and wanted to feel more. She hugged him as he kissed the temple of her head, something he wasn’t expecting to do. She looked up at him, and her lips thirsted for his as she leaned to kiss him. His lips embraced hers as he laid her down on the table bench. They tussled with their tongues as he caressed and fondled her breasts. The sexual tension filled the room like a fog that only they could see through. He got up from on top of her and took her hand. She knew she would follow him anywhere at that point. They left the kitchens, headed straight to her room, and locked the door.

What she felt that night was pure bliss in the face of adversity. Her body interwined with his, hot and sweaty. Her body caressed by the sweetness of his tongue in her most sensitive area, blood pumping constantly with every lick and suck, she began to feed him in the most creamiest way possible. He climbed back on top of her and slid his shaft deep into her flesh, devouring her as he thrusted. His kisses suffocated her with bliss as he kept her from making any noises. The time went on as they made love, the candles slowly burning out, leaving them in the dark. He thrusts deeper into her, feeling her with excitement as she squirms and grips the sheets. The excitement grew and grew until she couldn’t handle it anymore. He suckled her neck before moving on to the tip of her nipples, nibbling and suckling as they both came. Her eyes crossed as he grunted, overwhelmed by the feeling she felt within her body, his milky seed overflowing within and out of her. She was positively refreshed and relieved of the tension she felt for him for the first few months of her being here. He felt it too as he lay beside her, exhausted but fulfilled. 

He kissed her again as he got up to get dressed. She fell asleep as he covered her with the blankets and locked the door behind him. That was the last time she knew she would have peaceful sleep. Of course, the next day, they kept the rouse up, her superior, and she, being the grunt, took every command. It was for the good of both of them that they did this for mercy, with the others being an option they could not afford. Nobody could tell anything was happening between them, which was good enough. She had someone, and he did too. 

Scene 4: Taylani followed Rulindil into the Solar to be paid well enough to venture out into the Skyrim wilds. He walked to his desk, fumbling through his belongings before remembering that his key was always on his person. He opened his safe to find his plentiful septims stash, which he grabbed and handed her a bag. 

“I better not hear anything about you not being funded for your mission. You do understand how spoiled you are. Rarely is this possible for even a Thalmor patrol, but for you…I’ll make this exception once. Please do not mistake my temporary kindness for weakness. The last thing we need is for you to fall dead a mile away from an inn.” He said to her as he handed over the bag of gold. 

Taylani, bashfully, took the bag and packed it in her bag as he walked up to her. He looked around, making sure no one was around or within earshot. “You are an agent of the Thalmor; you must do your best to remember that. I expect nothing less.” He kissed her on the lips as she kissed him back. 

“I promise I won’t die a terrible death and’ll be back victorious.” She grinned. He smiled at her before changing his tune to the grumpy man she knew. He sent her back out of the Solar and into the main building. She was leaving the great hall, and only then she realized she may never come back, for when she waved everyone goodbye, she saw the wilderness from the gates of the Embassy, and for once, she was called by it, ready to take on everything that Skyrim had to offer. 

[dalishthunder]

WIP Wednesday

I'm not gonna change things up this time teehee so I tag @totally-not-deacon and @wanders-in-stars

Up in the mountains, snow was a near constant part of life. You learned that the hard way when you had to dig your way out of the inn after two days of it, leaving nearly three feet in its wake for you to trudge through.

"I don't understand why we have to make our way up the mountain in this kind of condition. Surely the Greybeards can wait until after thaw...." Nebarra grumbled, and for once Xelzaz agreed with him.

"Perhaps it would be best for us to wait until some of this has melted...." The argonian replied.

Kaidan snorted, pushing past them. "That's not how Skyrim works. At this altitude the snow won't melt ‘til summer. So either we head out now and take our chances, or we wait several months."

Nebarra balked, Lucien letting out an uncomfortable little laugh.

"And something tells me the Greybeards wouldn't appreciate their summons taking that long. We've already dallied several days," Kaidan continued. "But it's not my place to say what we do here." He turned to look at you, nearly waist deep in snow. "Dragonborn, what say you?"

You looked among your friends, noting the unease in their eyes. "I... I will go. Anyone who wants to stay at the inn for now, I think I have spare coin enough left for a week or so. I won't judge anyone for not accompanying me."

"What, and leave you alone to fend off gods know what on that mountain? Are you serious?" Kaidan scoffed. "No, Dragonborn, I'm afraid you're not rid of me that easily."

"Just... don't lead me to an early grave." Nebarra sighed as he stood by your side.

"As nice as curling up near a warm fire sounds, a burden is made lighter by many hands." Inigo placed his hand on your shoulder.

"Yeah! I am coming too! I want to see the Graybeards." Khash grinned.

Both Lucien and Lucifer agreed as well, and you almost wanted to cry, but that sounded ridiculous and you didn't want Nebarra mocking you all the way up the mountain. "I'm glad you're all here." You gave them all the biggest smile you could, feeling the cold already beginning to dry out your lips.

Kaidan made plowing through the snow seem like easy work, but even just following in his footsteps was an arduous task. And the higher you got, the thinner the air became... forcing you all to make frequent stops. Taking shelter under an overhang, you all carved your way into a relatively cozy spot. The sun was starting to get low, and you weren't sure how much farther you had to go to get the High Hrothgar... the last thing you needed was to lose someone over the edge from an easily avoidable stumble. So, you decided to make a crude shelter, piling up the snow you’d dug out to give you some semblance of a wall as you all huddled together around the small fire you’d made.

It was during second watch that you'd heard it; The muffled shuffling of heavy feet outside.

[ladytanithia]

Writing WIP Wednesday (10/4 good buddy)

I wasn't going to share this week, because I feel like people are tired of Miranja - and me. But I can't help myself. I just hope that @thequeenofthewinter will forgive me for this snippet. This is a different Ulfric in a different reality. ;-) And yes, @dirty-bosmer, there's your favorite line again, haha!

Just got home from work and haven't checked my notifications yet, so I don't know who, if anyone, has tagged me yet. I'm just tagging everyone. :-D

@guarmommy @gwilin-stay-winnin @mareenavee @skyrim-forever @thana-topsy @thechaosdragoness

For Chapter 19 of The Best-Laid Plans Oft Go Awry

When Miranja entered the Palace of the Kings, Ulfric and Galmar were heading into the war room. She followed, waiting for a break in their conversation so she could address Ulfric. To her surprise, he spoke to her first this time, a brief but unmistakable glint of lust in his eyes. “If it isn’t my ‘friend’ from Helgen again. You just can’t stay away from here, can you?” His curious gaze traveled down her body and back up again, surely wondering what she was wearing beneath her long wool cloak. “So, have you finally decided to join me in the fight against the Imperial dogs who nearly put you to death?”

“I’ve come hoping to join you, yes, but not in the war.” Miranja swallowed, feeling a little ridiculous now that she was here facing him. Hopefully, the worst he’d do was tell her no and laugh her out of the place.

Ulfric became irritated. “If you’re not for me, you’re against me. What are you talking about?”

Miranja glanced self-consciously at Galmar. “Could I maybe talk to you in private, please?”

Ulfric, too, glanced at Galmar for a moment, then turned back to her with a puzzled, expectant look. “Whatever you have to say, you can say it in front of Galmar.”

Oh, that wasn’t what she wanted. For a moment, she considered just leaving. Maybe she could try again some other time, when he and Galmar were not together. But when had she ever seen them apart? And she was wearing her most attractive dress and a little makeup… She gathered her courage, took a deep breath, and forged ahead, removing her cloak as she spoke, revealing her tavern dress and a large portion of her rosy flesh.

“I’m just going to come right out and say it. I’m sure you have dozens of women who throw themselves at you already, but I just want to tell you that I find you outrageously attractive and I’d just like to sleep with you if you’ll have me. Selfish, yes. But there has to be a little pleasure to break up the monotony of misery and death.”

Ulfric looked surprised and actually laughed, and she prepared to be ordered out.

“You’re absolutely right.” Ulfric smiled, and Miranja was gratified to see that lustful twinkle back in his eyes. “You have more stones than Galmar over there. And you’re a lot better looking, too.”

Galmar grumbled and voiced his misgivings. “Ulfric, this Imperial harlot may be a spy, sent to get close to you to assassinate you. Don’t let your little head think for your big one.”

Ulfric had started reaching out to touch Miranja’s hair, but he stopped at Galmar’s words and dropped his arm. “Would you like to search her first, Galmar?”

“She’s the Dragonborn,” Galmar pointed out. “She doesn’t need a weapon to kill you. You, of all people, should recognize that.”

“Ah, Galmar,” Ulfric sighed. “That is why you are my right-hand man. I bow to your counsel. But there is more than one way to have a woman. Bind her and gag her.”

Miranja had figured that going alone and without armor would make her appear less threatening, but she obviously hadn’t thought this through as well as she should have. She honestly had no intention of assassinating Ulfric – yet – but of course, they wouldn’t know that. And she’d left Erik back at the Candlehearth to wait for her, so she was on her own here.

Ulfric stepped close and held the back of her head while stuffing his handkerchief into her mouth with his other hand. Galmar roughly grabbed her arms, and a Stormcloak commander she hadn’t even noticed was in the room tied her wrists snugly with a sturdy leather strap and a clever knot. Having her arms tied behind her back forced her chest out, and Ulfric’s eyes shifted downward, but he continued to hold her still while Galmar went on to secure the handkerchief in her mouth with another leather strap stretched across her mouth and tied behind her head. He wasn’t at all careful about it; her hair was caught uncomfortably in the knot and pulled when she moved.

Now Ulfric took hold of the lock of hair he’d been reaching for, lifting it to his nostrils and smelling the lavender she always used. He leaned in closer and nuzzled her ear, sucking on the flesh of her neck. Her heartbeat quickened at his closeness, his warmth, his lips on her skin, the scent of him, masculine but not sweaty or rank.

“I prefer my women to be blonde Nords, but you’re still a comely lass,” he murmured throatily, pulling her against him so that she could feel his erection. “And just the very idea of the future High King and the Dragonborn… mmm… This will be a very pleasant diversion, even if the bards can never compose a song about it.”

[aladaylessecondblog]

Faal Hah Wuld, pt. 16

Sadrith,

We found the brush. It's yours when you next visit.

-Vex

----

Dear Sadrith,

I hope this letter finds you well. I write to you now from Solstheim, where I have now been living. I had thought I might continue to travel with the khajiit, but it seems my age is catching up with me. After solving a particularly unsettling situation in Raven Rock, I found myself gifted with a home, and it is here I have settled. Settled, me! It is a ridiculous idea, really, to think that after a lifetime of roving, both with the Urshilaku and the khajiit, I am finally inclined to stay in one place.

Yet here I am. The letter you provided was quite handy when I encountered a brother of that Mallory fellow you spoke of, as it turns out his brother is the town blacksmith, and he showed me how to put up one of those marks your guild is so fond of. So everyone knows I'm not to be stolen from. The guild takes care of their own, he says.

I know you don't do well with long passages so I will end this letter as I always do. Remember that you brought me hope as you brought it to all of Skyrim.

- your loving mother

----------------------

Sadrith gave a slight smile as she looked over the second letter the courier had delivered, and tucked it away with some of the others from her mother. Whenever she was having a particularly bad day she would reread some of them, and...it would help. Sometimes if the day was especially bad it wouldn't be much, but a little spot of light was better than none when her mind darkened.

"What's this about a brush?"

She had been so focused on reading the letters that she'd hardly noticed Torovan as he slipped up behind her.

"None of your--" she tucked away the first letter as Torovan sat down next to her, "Has anyone ever told you that it's rude to look over another person's private letters?"

"My apologies for wanting to know if you were looking over anything more you might have fond on those...golden bandits we encountered."

Sadrith took a deep breath. "Just...don't sneak up on me like that. And it's...a delicate letter. From someone I'd not like you to yap about. Oddly enough, it's from someone a lot like you."

"And how might that be, exactly?" Torovan took a sip from the mug she ordered for him and gave a brief wince.

"Stick up her ass. S'pose she's got a reason for it, though, so I imagine you do too." She shrugged, and went on nibbling at the meal before her. Her appetite was deader than dead, but she was forcing food down knowing they'd have to go through Helgen and the mountains...if she didn't eat, there'd probably be hell to pay later.

And she could not show weakness to this one-eyed mer. Whatever reason he might have for acting the way he did.

"Sadrith!"

"Ugh," Torovan said under his breath, "Do you know everyone in this forsaken village?"

"As a matter of fact I do." She gave him a brief smile, which seemed to surprise him. She looked off to the side to see Camilla, emerging from the room that had once led to Delphine's secret staircase. "Camilla! I've heard congratulations are in order."

"Oh...yes." For a moment her face shifted about. "Well, after seeing the games Sven and Faendal were playing, I realized...I wanted someone unlikely to do that."

"Orgnar is a man of few words, but all of them are straight-forward. You couldn't have chosen better. Orgnar, you happy?" she looked to the bartender.

"Happy as a man ought to be when he's married," the man replied, without looking up from the glass he was cleaning. There was a slight mote of emotion--small, but there. He was happy, despite not showing it very well.

"I'm glad to hear it. Perhaps you'd like a wedding gift?"

"You're spending money here, that's all the gift I need."

"Fair enough." Sadrith gave a little laugh.

Torovan sat beside her a little while longer as Camilla chattered about how things were going. How Orgnar had built a basement and how being allowed to actually DO things to help out had been wonderful. Sadrith struggled to pay attention to it but she nodded, and smiled, and retained enough to make small remarks now and then. On the whole, when Camilla left to head to get some salmon from the river, she seemed quite pleased with the conversation.

"She seems happier now. You're lucky, Orgnar."

"Sure am."

Sadrith went back to trying to eat. Torovan said something about going to pick over the meager offerings at Lucan's shop, and after denying her saying she'd go with him, he waved off her concern and left.

Something else is going on here, it must be. He doesn't seem to need or want me taking him to Riften. Why am I here?

He was clearly an enemy of the Thalmor, as was Sigurd...so there was no purpose in having her along. Unless it was simply to have someone else to watch his back. But in that case, why not simply hire any random mercenary? There would be plenty of them who would be happy to take a few hundred gold to make the trip. Perhaps they wanted to make contact with the Thieves Guild and saw her as the in...or...

As no answer revealed itself, and the matter wasn't especially pressing to her mind, she eventually drifted back to forcing herself to eat the meal she'd already paid for.

She managed to get down the rest of the salmon, and sat sipping at a mug of ale, still thinking over Vex's letter. The brush. Finally. After months of searching and paying for information and shelling out damn near the entire fortune she'd amassed from the scales and bones of dragons--the brush was hers.

"Strongest you have."

The voice was all khajiiti accents, and sounded off so suddenly beside her that she nearly dropped her drink. The khajiit--a calico dotted here and there with dark spots, clad in a black robe that seemed to shimmer with stars -- took a seat beside her and gestured to Orgnar.

A lone cat that isn't M'aiq...?

"That'll be the argonian bloodwine. Expensive."

Some gold was produced. Orgnar took it and got out the large aqua bottle, then poured a small glass.

"That's always a good choice," Sadrith said, raising her mug slightly. "Useful for breathing underwater..."

"Not that I need such things." The khajiit finished the glass, and poured himself another. He turned to her, and gave a toothy grin. "Perhaps you'd like to share in it?"

Something about him felt...off. But that was a feeling she had fairly often, so she brushed it aside.

"Ah, no, I don't want to take something so expensive," she waved absently, "You've paid some pretty coin for that..."

There was a feeling that she'd missed something. Forgotten something, and she hated that she couldn't figure out what in oblivion it was.

"And it's rude to refuse a gift."

"You're right," she replied, and slid her mug over. "Not too much, though, I've got to get on the road soon."

And, she added mentally, for the skooma to actually work, I need to be sober. Trying to drink while taking skooma never ended well; she seemed to get drunk faster and stay drunk longer.

She shut her eyes momentarily, and found herself taking in a sharp breath when upon opening them she saw the hands holding the bottle of bloodwine were covered in black fur instead of the mottled color they had been before.

"The scent is a bit strong," the khajiit said, "Perhaps I should have let it breathe for longer."

"It's fine." Sadrith gulped hard, and forced herself to look up at his face. It was dark too, just like the hands...paws...she'd just looked at.

Gods, not again. This isn't supposed to happen unless I take too much. It's fine. It's fine, it's only his fur color. It's FINE.

Deep breath. It didn't help. It never did.

"And what brings you to Riverwood?" she asked, in a vain attempt to stave off her sudden bout of nerves. "It's not often one meets a khajiit that's not part of a caravan."

"A job," he replied, gesturing after slowly draining another glass of the bloodwine. "There's someone I mean to keep an eye on...track."

"Sounds a hazardous job. I hope your quarry's not hard to track." Perhaps this was the one Sigurd had warned of? Maybe it wasn't only the Thalmor he'd been worried about.

"On the contrary, my quarry is quite easy to track."

A blink. Now he was no longer a khajiit, despite the persistence of the accent, but now an Altmer. Yet the robe remained the same, distracting in its dark way, glittering here, darkening there...

"...so obvious, a child could do it."

"Oh? Then why have you not yet caught them? Assuming you wish to, I mean. It's not really my business, I'm sorry, but you've piqued my curiosity."

Keep it together, keep it together

"I take no offense." Another grin. "In fact, I should be glad of your help."

For a brief second Sadrith swore his teeth were longer. She shoved the thought back. This was a skooma hallucination, nothing more.

Act as though nothing is wrong. You can do this, Sadrith. You must. If Torovan returns and you're still in this state--

"You are the dragonborn after all, as much set to wandering as any caravan of khajiit."

White fur, black spots. The fear was peaking and she reached for the bottle.

"How can I help you, then?"

The khajiit took the bottle from her, and poured her out a bit more bloodwine.

"Tell me how I might deal with someone on the run, once they are caught? I never fail to catch my prey. Either I find them sooner due to a combination of skill and luck, or later, when they become aware I am following..."

"And begin to panic? They get more dangerous that way. I should know, with all the bandits I've collected bounties on. Got a few scars from...from cornering them."

"Yet you always come out the victor." Again that toothy grin that unsettled her. "The magnificent dragonborn...bandit killer, dragonslayer, feller of foes from Markarth to Windhelm. A bloody force that Boethiah herself would be proud of."

"Because I am here, and they are not." Sadrith thought of the book regarding the summoning of Boethiah, desperate to think of anything but the chaos unfolding before her. "I would prefer to avoid killing if possible, but...some people make it necessary."

"You see it as a duty, then. Perhaps the Dark Brotherhood would suit you."

"I hardly think a group of assassins know much about duty. Devotion to sending people to the void by bloody murder, maybe."

Another glass.

"And I eliminated them. I don't care for Sithis and his ilk."

Sadrith blinked, and the khajiit's fur changed again, back to the black.

"No, clearly not, if you so eagerly move to commit such a feat. But I am curious...do you have no fear of death? Most would balk at the danger."

"Danger is in my blood." She laughed nervously, trying desperately to shake off the rising anxiety. "I'm not afraid of dying, I'm afraid of not living."

It's only your mind playing tricks on you. That's it. That's all. He's a normal man and you're just seeing things.

"Everyone is afraid of death. Everyone wants to go in their bed, at a great age, surely you are no different."

Why do you CARE?

It didn't matter. There was nothing outside her head that scared her more than what was inside, anyway.

Blink. Tan fur, white hands. Paws.

What is HAPPENING? Has Shegg--Sheogorath come to claim my mind?

"Excuse the dark and dreary talk," the khajiit finally said, "I've taken so many bounties my mind thinks mainly in metaphors of death...however chaotic they might seem to those with a heroic bent, like yourself. But tell me...I am curious, I ask this question of everyone. How do you imagine you will die?"

"In glorious battle defending someone, or something, I imagine," Sadrith replied easily. "I spend a lot of time adventuring...so it only makes sense it should be how I leave the world."

"A woman of Shor's own heart."

Orgnar dropped something, and as he muttered bent over to clean it up. Sadrith finished what remained of her drink, and took another deep breath.

"Dragonborn!"

Torovan's voice rang out suddenly from the doorway. Sadrith looked back, and waved him over, turned--

--and dropped her own mug.

The seat beside her was empty. The only hint that anyone had been there was the cup beside her own, and the half-drunk bottle of argonian bloodwine. She handed the mug back to Orgnar and muttered some excuse of needing to get moving.

I was seeing things. Hearing things. That's it. That's all. I just--don't remember ordering the wine. I must have done that myself, and just...I just forgot. ...keep it together, keep it together!

"If you're sufficiently pickled, we should get a move on."

"Right. Right, yes." Sadrith was for once glad of Torovan's stern orders; they simplified things quite a bit. She gathered her things and headed for the door with him.

"I hope you've not made yourself unfit for travel."

"Some ale and not even half a bottle of bloodwine won't do much to me," she replied, and glanced here and there as they went outside, wondering if the hallucinations would stop with that khajiit. "Your concern is...is touching, of course."

Sadrith saw nothing more, though she was still looking for anything out of the ordinary.

She forced a smile for him. Not until they passed through Riverwood's back gate, on the road to Helgen, did he speak again.

"Tell me," he said, "How is it you are so undaunted by insults or slights against your character? Where is the desire to defend your honor?"

"I grew up in a khajiit caravan. The petty things you throw at me don't compare to the things I was called as a child. Or the things I've heard from Thalmor."

The gentle sound of the running river near them soothed her mind just slightly, and she tried to focus it to further ease her unsteady mind. But Torovan spoke again, breaking her fragile concentration.

"Do you often provoke them, then? No...no, don't bother answering that question. Perhaps what I should ask is what you've done to earn their ire."

Sadrith latched onto the topic eagerly. A distraction, that was what she needed. Something to put the khajiit from her mind--a strategy she often employed in distressing circumstances like these. "Are you sure you want to hear? Will you insult me over that also? If you do...I beg you to do better at it."

"I would be pleased to hear it, actually. They have not made themselves popular, and it is always good to hear of such people being...taken down a peg."

"You? Enjoying humiliating one of them? I'm surprised you wouldn't simply leave that sort of thing to the Archmage. The nords have more of a cause to hate the Thalmor than we do."

"The enemies of my friend are my enemies also," Torovan stated evenly. "His devotion to my welfare is such that it could be no other way. I would not be standing here before you if he hadn't taken such pains to save my life."

She thought again of Lydia.

"And how do I know that you are not some part of a Thalmor plot, hmm?" She then realized her error late, and quickly tried to correct herself, cover it up, with, "The letter we picked off that group seems a point in your favor, of course. But you did say I shouldn't trust you, and I hesitate to do it anyway. Tall, dark, brooding - you are the sort of man I read of in novels, who usually has some danger attached to him."

"Brooding!" Torovan laughed. "Now you have gone too far. I do not brood. Will you answer my question or no? What have you done to upset the Thalmor, besides that business with the embassy?"

"I broke a nord out of one of their fortresses," she replied, "His mother asked I look into his disappearance...and some clues lead me to a fortress in the Northwest."

"Ah, so Sigurd has YOU to blame for their increasing presence in the Sea of Ghosts."

"For WHAT?" Sadrith burst out. "Are the Thalmor skulking around Winterhold? If he needs them cleared out, I could do it as easily as I did at the fortress."

"All of them on your own?"

"If need be."

"You are every bit as foolish as Sigurd once was. He too is eager to take command and right the wrongs and ills he sees before him. Do you think it your responsibility as he does, or do you simply like the glory?"

"Both," Sadrith replied. "To see a smile, or relief, on a face and know I was the reason for it - that is what I want to see when I enter a village, or one of the cities here."

"You could settle right now and be satisfied with all you've done...and still see those looks when you receive visitors." Torovan went on in the same vein, but she tuned most of it out. "You killed the World-Eater, and need do nothing more."

"If I don't, then who will?" Sadrith shrugged. "I'm not made to be idle...stay in one place. I get an itch under my skin to move if I try. Natural, considering I grew up in a caravan with a mother who herself hailed from an ashlander tribe. Wandering is in my blood."

"Indeed it is."

They were silent until reaching the Guardian Stones.

"You clearly do not need me," she said suddenly, stopping to look at the Thief stone, "And I know you won't tell me the reason for my being here...but I know there must be something else."

"The reason is that my friend is overprotective of me, and wants me looked after more than I feel is necessary. With the dragons about, he wanted extra caution taken."

"You do not mean me harm, do you?"

"Of course not."

She stared a little while. The anxiety was finally receding but all she could think was--the hallucination of the khajiit was so contained within the Sleeping Giant and nothing else outside it had been seen, perhaps it was merely having met Delphine there that kicked it off? The unpleasant memory of that woman, maybe, that stirred her skooma-addled mind into a frenzy without her even realizing it? At times her body seemed wholly disconnected from her mind, and where she felt no inward worry her body would refuse to believe the fact and feel its effects anyway. But she hadn't felt any such thing in the inn...no nausea in her stomach or ache of the head, nothing of the sort.

What then had caused the hallucination? She wasn't worried, truly, she merely wanted to understand. To prevent it happening again.

"If you meant me harm, you would have done it already, with all the chances you've had. You could've drained me dry and left me in the Barrow and no one would have been the wiser. Hungry as you were..."

That reminded her of something else. Another subject to stop herself thinking overmuch on the hallucination.

"I'm curious," she said, "I've never had the...appetites that those like you have. Never had to tell the difference between difference kinds of blood...what makes mine any different than the regular? Is it more filling?"

"In a way," Torovan replied, as she turned and lead him further up the path. "I cannot strike the feeling from my mind that I have tasted it somewhere before."

His tone here made her wish she could see his face.

"Unless you have preyed on me in the night some time ago, I doubt it. Not that I would say no to your bowing over me as you did before."

"I say again: you trust too easily. You seem aware of the danger I pose and yet you flaunt it as a less experienced mercenary would. Do you think yourself safe from harm?"

"I think what is outside is less frightening than what is inside." The words were out before she could stop them, and the hope she felt that he hadn't heard her properly was immediately dashed when he turned to face her. She hunted frantically for something to say and settled on, "Think what you will of me, but if I should set the safety of an entire province on your shoulders I'd wager your mind would not be as pleasant a place as before."

Torovan didn't seem to have a response.

"At any rate," she went on, "I prefer to think of more pleasant things, if I can. It keeps the mind busy, stops it from taking all the weight at once. Joy in little places - that helps me bend, rather than break."

"And here I thought you to be the sort of person information must be coaxed from," Torovan replied, "I see now I need not have worried. Information gushes from your mouth like a river. Reckless, talkative...it is a wonder you have maintained a reputation for discretion with qualities like these."

"Secret keeping is not my job, and there hasn't yet been something too important that I must keep quiet." Aside from Delphine and Esbern's locations, of course. "I leave that to others of the Guild."

"Suppose you came into information that would enable you to relieve Tamriel of some Thalmor? Would you share THAT?"

"If the one from whom I learned it desired me to. When I hear of Thalmor, however, I tend to..." She drifted off. "I have said enough."

"No, tell me," Torovan said, his voice suddenly sharp. "When you think of Thalmor, you do what?"

"Why should I, when you tell me nothing of yourself? Am I being judged, is that what this is? You want something more to..." She took a deep breath, and tried to calm herself down. Getting worked up could only end poorly. Maybe she'd see that khajiit again, or maybe as a treat a dragon that wasn't actually there. "Fine. When I hear of Thalmor...I get angry. A bully should be smacked down, and if no one else has the wherewithal or ability to do it, then..."

"Then it shall be you?"

"Then it shall be me." She gave a momentary grin, wider than her usual. "Not that I would say no to aid or guidance, but who would be willing to help me? Certainly not General Tullius or any of the Imperials."

Sadrith could not stop, could not make herself stop. Her mouth refused the very idea.

"Ulfric is being led by a leash he cannot even see, so he is no better. Not to mention the dislike his ilk have for mine. He would be the better choice for..."

And then just as suddenly it shifted, and she could find herself just as unwilling to speak. On a septim it pivoted, and she felt all the embarrassment of it.

"You've give this a lot of thought, haven't you? Perhaps the imperial dogs and Stormcloaks should let YOU figure this all out."

"I'm not a leader," Sadrith said, "That is the problem of this whole thing. I could sort it, but I don't want to be king or queen or anything like that. I don't wish to lead armies, perhaps a charge, but not the whole army. I'm more of a soldier than a general. A weapon to be turned against the one who needs reminding what happens when you poke sleeping dragons."

Oh, yes, how she would love to show the Thalmor that...

As they approached Helgen, her mind was alight with possibilities for scaring them--what good would it be to defeat them without some element of terror to make them regret all they'd done? All they were trying to do?

Torovan brought her back to reality.

"I see I shall have to get back out my larger fur robe," he said, grumbling at the cold around them as he stopped and reached into one of his bags. "I will be surprised if you can make it half the way across this accursed back way before you start ruing the day you took this job."

"Pay no attention to any grumbling. I complain, but I do what must be done anyway." Sadrith shrugged. "The issue will be seeing once we get farther up."

She took out her map, and pointed to a spot on it, which he leaned over to glance at.

"There's a cave called Haemar's Shame around this spot. We might not entirely NEED to stop for a night's rest there but it'll be a good spot to stop and warm up before we go on. Shake the chill out of our bones and all. I'll gather up some kindling as we go and we'll have ourselves a good little fire."

"And then?"

"We can make a quick stop at Ivarstead." Sadrith looked up then, towards the gates of Helgen.

"You picked a bad time to get lost, friend!"

"And a stop here to get you something to eat."

The gates swung open, and two bandits charged forward.

Torovan raised his hands, charged a fire spell, and gave a dark laugh that left her tingling.

Tall, dark, and deadly

She shoved the map in her pocket and readied her sword, eager now to blot out not fears of hallucination, but the mental image of the torso beneath Torovan's robes.

[quicksilverdrabbles]

Saturn: *sprawled out on a bed made for humans, legs hanging halfway on the bed as she sleeps*

Auryen: *steps out of his room into his employee barracks* Saturn? Time to get up, dear girl.

Saturn: Mmmnnngh.. *groans, turning on her side* Five more minutes..

Auryen: You said that an hour ago. Breakfast is ready.

Saturn: *opens her eyes blearily, turning to look at her uncle with a frown* Didja make omelettes?

Auryen: Of course.

Saturn: ... Coming.

~

Saturn: *stares into the mirror of the bathing room in shock, her messy hair and smudged make-up on full display* Good Gods, I've got some work to do. Cog. *snaps her fingers, a dwemer spider materializing on the counter. It opens its inner compartment to reveal a travel-sized make-up set* Thank you, ma' little darling. How on earth would I survive without you?

~

Auryen: *eyes Saturn curiously, sipping his coffee while she wolfs down her food* How have things been at the Embassy?

Saturn: *scoffs* Horrible. It's like the other guards don't even know I exist. I'm made to always stay at my mother's side, if I'm not at m' forge. I'd rather never go back.

Auryen: Abandoning the Thalmor is a death wish.

Saturn: They wish they could kill me.

Auryen: Ha. Well, I won't turn my own blood away. I'm sure your father would have been proud of you for making your own decisions.

Saturn: ... Right.

Auryen: You'll have to earn your keep, though.

Saturn: I know, uncle. I didn't come here expecting to put yourself at risk and keep me for nothin'.

Auryen: I know you didn't. I have actually been in need of some help with this museum here. I'm not as young as I used to be, you know, especially after I hung up my sword.

Saturn: Truly a tragedy.

Auryen: Hush, you.

Saturn: *glancing around at the museum* ... This place is filthy.

Auryen: You have no problem with filth.

Saturn: Yes, but for a museum- *summons four Dwemer Gynoids* These will follow your command and clean the place. As long as you treat them well, they won't stage a revolt.

Auryen: A revolt?!

Saturn: Yes, that's a reason I didn't want to let my mothers soldiers control them. They would no doubt treat them horribly and override their wellbeing protocols.

Auryen: I.. see.

Saturn: Either way, write a list of artifacts you would like me to retrieve to start with, if any. I'm going to see if the local smith has a proper sword and armor for me aside from.. These ugly things. *gestures to her Thalmor Robes*

Auryen: I wouldn't count on that.

Saturn: Doesn't hurt to try.

~

Saturn: ... This is your biggest greatsword.

Beirand: Yes.

Saturn: *exactly twice his height, holding the greatsword like a regular sword* You're joking.

Beirand: My swords aren't tailored to.. people like you.

Saturn: People like me.

Beirand: Aye. You know what I mean.

Saturn: Your swords are not catered to High Elves. That's rather bigoted for a smith of the Empire, don'tcha think?

Beirand: Call it what you want. I don't have anything for you.

Saturn: Hmph. Fine.

~

Auryen: I told you.

Saturn: *pacing angrily* That is tusking ridiculous!

Auryen: Language.

Saturn: How on earth am I supposed to get any proper armor if the only smith within twenty miles doesn't even cater to High Elves??

Auryen: *sighs* You could probably try the smith in Markarth. An orcish girl by the name of Ghorza gra-Bagol. She'd surely make something for you.

Saturn: Markarth?

Auryen: If you take a carriage, you could make it there in a day's time.

Saturn: Ugh, carriages are so uncomfortable. I'll just walk.

Auryen: That could take days.

Saturn: Good. I've been cooped up in the Embassy for years with no knowledge of what Skyrim even looks like. A journey will be good for me.

Auryen: ... Oh, alright. Since you're leaving, I've compiled a list of certain items I've been looking for. Treasure hunters and mercenaries can only go so far. And here- *hands her the list and a sack of gold* For the smith. Don't expect anymore payment until you return with those artifacts.

Saturn: This is already more than enough. Thank you, uncle.

Auryen: *nods, a sad smile crossing his face* Please be careful, Saturn. Stay out of trouble

Saturn: Ha. Trouble? *waves as she turns, leaving the museum* I can never stay out of trouble.

[argisthebulwark]

TES Summer Fest Day Five: Crown/Gentle

summary: She's done it. Alduin is slain, the war is settled, finally Skyrim will know peace - but will she ever get a shot at a normal life? f!LDB/ Bodyguard Vilkas warnings: just a lil bit of angst i guess a/n: Characters taken from my Bodyguard Vilkas story - i just felt like they'd fit :) @tes-summer-fest TES Summerfest Masterlist

"Dragonborn." Balgruuf's voice demands the crowd's attention and Rin flinches at the weight of their gaze. She counts each breath, sucking in the stuffy air and focusing on the Jarl's boot to keep herself steady.

"We are honored to recognize the contributions you have made to the people of Whiterun and Skyrim." She should be honored as well but the most she can manage is a stiff nod. Her neck muscles scream as the weight of that damned crown is placed so carefully on top of her head, sweat already gathering under its rim.

"You, the Last Dragonborn, Alduin's Doom - too many titles to recount. We offer this crown and a place of glory in our fine city." The Jarl's good natured chuckle does little to calm her nerves. Rin's sweaty fingers wrap around the hilt of that decorative sword she'd been instructed to hold. Apparently the actual weapon that had slain Alduin wasn't flashy enough.

"Thank you." She pants, joints and armor creaking as she attempts to raise from a kneel. Rin stares out at the crowd, faces blending together into one mess of smiles and wide eyes. She should say something heroic, something inspirational for all the hopeful little faces peering up at her but her mind is utterly blank.

"Dragonborn." Vilkas' smooth voice cuts through all the noise and drags her back to reality. "Someone's asking for a moment with you."

"Who?" Rin and Balgruuf inquire in unison, her heart racing at the thought of carrying a conversation in her state. She can stomach their platitudes and offer vague thanks but anything deeper may be beyond her.

"It'll only take a moment." Vilkas avoids answering, though the strong fingers at her elbow are insistent. He drags her away from the slowly encroaching crowd, leaving Irileth and Balgruuf to regale the civilians with stories in her stead.

Luckily, the patio is free of people. Rin shuffles toward the railing overlooking the gorgeous plains that surround the city and sucks down a deep breath. The air is sweet and fresh, blessedly free of the rich scent of food and drink she's been stuck in for hours. Vilkas appears at her side without a word, a comforting hand placed on her back.

"Who requested my presence?" She asks far too late, pink coloring her cheeks at her carelessness. Scanning the horizon she feels the hammering of her heart slow to a crawl.

"Me." Vilkas grumbles, already unlatching the hefty armor. A laugh bubbles up through all the tension and Rin rolls her shoulders, grateful for his intuition. She allows Vilkas to remove the gaudy golden plates, tossing them carelessly into a pile.

"Be careful, that likely cost a fortune."

"Don't care." He keeps working until she's left in plain clothes, a tunic and trousers that seem awfully out of place among all the nobles. Rin gazes up at Vilkas, each breath unlabored as she sucks them in.

"That looks ridiculous on you." He sneers, poking playfully at the crown weighing her head down. Rin rolls her eyes and shoves it back into place despite the tension building in her shoulders.

"The council would throw a fit if I took it off." She grumbles, leaning eagerly into his touch. Vilkas' fingers mindlessly swipe at the hair falling into her face and gods, she wishes she could thank him for all he does. He's always there to hold her up when she's ready to crumble, a quiet presence that keeps her going.

"You're more than their shiny hero to trot out." He reminds her, gruff voice suddenly so soft. Rin nearly melts into his arms at the words only he bothers to say. Vilkas isn't one for flowery words or poetry but gods, Rin's never felt loved so wholly than when his rich brown eyes stare down at her.

"Feelin' better?" He finally asks, a quick kiss pressed to her sweaty brow.

"As good as one can be in this situation." Rin clears her throat, ignoring the nervous racing of her heart at the thought of reentering that hall. Vilkas offers her the customary arm, allowing her to cling to his side as he leads her back into the horde.

"Your armor is gone." Farengar instantly notices, brows tightening at her appearance. She opens her mouth, ready to ramble off some excuse before a sharp elbow cuts her off.

"The Dragonborn worried that appearing fully armored would make the people worry there's another foe." Vilkas lies so smoothly even Rin begins to believe it. "Unarmed conveys safety - and isn't that what you're always prattling on about?"

"Very well."

The rest of the evening is fairly easy; recounting the same story until her mouth runs dry, a migraine building behind her temples with each hour the crown weighs down her head, Vilkas' comforting touches keeping her from mouthing off to whatever noble simply insists that she join them for dinner. Her smile is false and her cheeks burn but somehow they make it through the evening.

"Vilkas." Balgruuf's voice cuts through the relatively comfortable silence and Rin's heart nearly stops. "Allow me a moment alone with the Dragonborn."

"I'm not to leave her side."

"No harm will befall her in my halls."

"I will be back in one minute." Vilkas' voice is deadly and cold when he exits the room, surely just outside. Rin can hardly contain the litany of questions when the Jarl rounds on her once more, pointedly staring at the crown she's placed atop the table.

"It will be quite the adjustment." He comments, voice thick with what sounds almost like melancholy. "I know how hard it can be to live such a life, Dragonborn, but I commend you for your commitment."

"What commitment?" Rin has no more capacity for platitudes, her voice harsh from nerves worn too thin.

"The crown, the sword, your place in our city - many changes will happen in the coming days as you settle into your new life."

"Please, fill me in on these changes." Rin's voice quivers but she holds her chin high. Suddenly the weight of that crown seems far heavier than she'd known.

"Well, you are a symbol to the people." Balgruuf steeples his fingers, still staring down at the crown. "I'm afraid that you cannot return to the life you once led."

"Why?"

"You could become a political target or the rumors of cultists crawling over our shores could prove to be an issue."

"I slay dragons. I can handle it." Her voice wobbles pathetically at the prospect of being stuck in this gilded cage for the rest of her days. She'd gone through hell and returned in one piece for the chance at regaining her life.

"We simply cannot allow the hero of our people to be harmed, surely you understand." Balgruuf sighs, clearly exhausted from their most commonly rehashed argument. "We will of course allow Vilkas to return to Jorrvaskr and a rotation of our finest guards will take his place."

No.

No.

"If I accept this crown - this position, whatever it is you're offering me, I lose him?" Rin feels so far from her body, mind floating out of reach at the mere thought of losing Vilkas. She can stomach a lot of bullshit but this is too much.

"He's a fine man." In a moment of unusual friendship, Balgruuf pats at her clammy hand. "But you are a hero. You are the Last Dragonborn - do not throw it all away."

"I refuse." She's gasping the words before she can process them, instinctively rejecting a life that does not involve him. Snippets of her future flash through her mind, each more terrifying than the last; stuck in Dragonsreach only to be trotted out on special occasions, married off to some political powerhouse she's never met, boring days and lonely nights spent languishing in a comfortable cage she allowed herself to be locked in.

"Dragonborn, you must think this through. This is the rest of your life, the hope of our people rely on you. He is a good man, but -"

"I don't care." Rin's laugh is high pitched and sounds off in her ears but she's breaking. She cannot stomach a life without him, isn't strong enough to grin and bear it for another day. "I cannot - I will not do this."

"I urge you to reconsider." The Jarl warns as she stands, that familiarity entirely gone from his voice. The crown scrapes across his table when Rin scoots it far away, retreating toward the door Vilkas exited only a moment before.

"You alright?" Vilkas' rough voice is like music to her ears. Rin is grabbing blindly at his arms and tugging him toward the exit, excitement bubbling up in her chest at the prospect.

"I said no." She grins, blissfully unaware of the many eyes watching her gracelessly drag Vilkas out of Dragonsreach. She traipses past the pile of gilded armor and beautifully crafted sword that would never see battle, head thankfully free of that heavy crown.

"Said no to what?"

"All of it." Her cheeks still burn but gods, it's the first smile that's felt real all day. "Let's go home."

[midorisudachi]

It's been a while since Iast posted here, ja? I was so busy for the past month and a half finishing up my Fennec Shand cosplay (and Boba Fett for my son). We wore it to WonderCon last month! (If you want to see photos, head on over to Instagram. My user name is the same as here on Tumblr: @midorisudachi )

Alright, so this more than likely seems random, weird, and nonsensical, but to me it makes total sense because this is for my own entertainment and a slight parody of my character & her companions in Skyrim. I was unsure of sharing it at first, but then I decided "Why not?", as this actually took a while to draw (with all the detail) and to colour in, so I actually am proud of this silly piece. It's 11" x 14" in real life.

Anywa: when my OC Katarzyna (an Imperial) first entered Morthal (swamp town), she and her two companions (a Steadfast Dwarven Spider & a Solstheim Dunmer Elf by the name of Teldryn Sero) went into the Moorside Inn. The moment my character stepped into the inn, some snarky broad named Alva immediately said, "Well...aren't you the pretty one? I bet all the men chase after you!" And I thought, "Who the hell are you, bish? You don't talk to the Dragonborn that way!" Lol! 

So this random scenario entered my head & it amused me & I just had to draw it. 

If you are not familiar with the game, you can carry a lot of items & also make your companion (who helps you fight enemies) carry a lot of stuff, too. I imagine that in "real life", it would be way too much to carry. I had to make the characters look ridiculous, such as Katarzyna dragging around a bag of dragon bones & holding her huge weapon; mismatched armour; looking tired as hell after running all over the place and fighting monsters and dragons; with dirt and blood on her. She's anything but "pretty". Lol. I'm always making Teldryn carry excess loot, armour, ore, ingots, herbs, etc all the time, so I had to draw him struggling as he hauls everything that Katarzyna cannot hold. My spider can't carry anything; it just follows me around and helps me fight.

And no, the men do not chase my character. In fact, a lot of them talk scheisse, because my character is an Imperial (who are despised by most Nords, the people of Skyrim).

I first played Skyrim in 2014. I had 220 hours invested into the game until I stopped in March of 2015 (2 months before my son was born) and never finished the game. It wasn't until this past February that I wanted to play it again! So far, I'm about 72 hours into the game and maybe 1/3 done with the quests? 

Who else has drawn Skyrim fan art? Please let me know and I'll check out your work!

Drawn with Sakura Pigma Micron pens & then coloured in with a mix of Ohuhu Markers & Copic Markers. Highlights done with a gel pen. The textured background  (and steam above the spider) were done in Photoshop Elements. 

Skyrim/Characters (c) Bethesda Game Studios

[kookaburra1701]

WIP Wednesday - The Wives of Shor I: Moth to Flame

tagged by @dirty-bosmer tyty❤️ tagging @nientedenada and @tallmatcha

Fandom: The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim Rating: T (entire fic is E) Category: M/M Pairing: Kaidan/Lucien Flavius Genre(s): Romance (bodice-rippers my beloveds), bildungsroman Other main characters: Inigo the Brave, she/her Breton LDB

Summary: A scene from near the beginning of the fic, Kaidan and and Hadvar share a moment of soldier camaraderie the night before they delve into Bleak Falls Barrow. Lucien Flavius is by Joseph Russell, Kaidan is by Liv Templeton, and Inigo the Brave is by SmartBlueCat.

27 Last Seed, 4E 401 The cool night air was bracing; the usual sounds of daily life in Riverwood had given over to the quiet of the evening: the creaking of the water wheel, the rippling of water in the millrace, and a thousand crickets in the forest. High overhead the stars glimmered.

A creak of leather caught Kaidan's attention. Just at the edge of the lantern-light from the sconces at the door of the Sleeping Giant, Hadvar leaned against the roadside fence, looking up at the arches that carved out chunks of the night sky. He turned towards Kaidan as the inn's door clattered shut.

"Peaceful evening," Kaidan remarked, walking over to Hadvar.

"Aye," Hadvar replied, taking a sip from the tankard in his hand. "When I was a lad I thought it was too peaceful, and that living here I would never get my chance at glory and adventure." He laughed bitterly. "Now I'm going to choke on it. Did you want something from me?"

"You looked like you could use the company," said Kaidan, also leaning on the fence and looking up towards the barrow. "I also wanted to apologize." Hadvar looked up at him in surprise. "For not believing you about the attack on Helgen. About the-" even after hearing multiple eye-witness accounts the word felt strange and ridiculous on his lips "-dragon."

"Don't mention it." In the woods an elk's bugle echoed out of the trees. "If the tables were turned, I wouldn't have believed you, either. But you and Inigo helped me and for that you will always have my gratitude. Would have been a fine ending to my tale, perishing of thirst within sight of Whiterun's walls."

"That it would."

They fell into a companionable silence; the muffled sound of a Nord drinking song filtering through the sturdy timbers and into the night. Kaidan hoped it wasn't too bawdy a tune, but he also knew he'd been able to recite at least a dozen ribald limericks by the time he was Pascale's age and he had turned out fine. After a few more moments Kaidan spoke.

"I've been selling my sword long enough to know when a man is dreading the morning."

Hadvar sighed. "Is it that obvious?"

"Not too obvious. I, er, also overheard you talking to Lucien on the road," Kaidan admitted. "About the stories your gran told."

Hadvar groaned. "I've faced down bandits, rebels, anything else the Legion has pointed me at, and I haven't felt this nervous since the night before the first day of training." He suddenly turned to look at Kaidan. "If you're doubting my mettle, don't. My orders are to retrieve the Dragonstone, and get everyone back out safely. No matter how much some old ghost stories have me spooked I've never refused a mission and I don't intend to start now."

"Never doubted you for a second. I can tell you're a man who does what he intends to do." Kaidan turned to look back at the Sleeping Giant, its horn-pane windows glowing golden in the evening gloom. "I'm not too pleased about having tramp through a dusty old cave myself. Those places are always crawling with frostbite spiders."

Hadvar pulled a face. "And you just know that the mages will be wanting to stop to harvest venom and silk every time we kill one. Are you sure we can't leave them here?"

"I tried leaving them in Whiterun, you saw how well that worked!" Kaidan said, while Hadvar chuckled at his indignation. "Digging around in dangerous places is the entire reason Lucien came here, and trying to leave Pascale anywhere out of trouble...you might as well tell a cat to stay put." Hadvar laughed harder.

"I meant to ask you, how did you find yourself with such...an array of traveling companions?" asked Hadvar. "Not to put too fine a point on it, but you strike me as someone who is used to working alone. And...that girl does not look like your kin."

Kaidan could tell Hadvar was looking at him sideways, judging his reaction, and suppressed the annoyance at the question. It was only natural - Brynjar probably fielded it countless times as he dragged Kaidan around from one end of Tamriel to the other.

"She's not kin. She's from High Rock." Kaidan met Hadvar's veiled reproach without apology. "And if you must know, she saved my life."

Hadvar choked on the swig of ale he'd been taking from his tankard.

"Laugh all you want, it's true," Kaidan smiled himself now.

"And you had difficulty believing in a dragon."

[nejackdaw]

"Ralof of Riverwood." Aka the intro scene angst post that got out of hand. 1.5k words

The son of a blacksmith and the son of a mill worker. It was inevitable they meet and become part of each other's lives–not only because Riverwood was a small town and everyone knew everyone, but because their families so often worked together. Hadvar, who was learning how to wield a hammer but too small to help around the forge; Ralof, too young to work the mill but old enough to get into trouble, learning how to handle wood without getting splinters in his fingers. They were young when they met and became fast friends, boys with wide eyes and toothy little grins swapping secrets and bragging about how much help they were to their parents. 

But boys don't stay young forever, and they aged into young men, taller and stronger and growing into a sense of pride over their work. Contests over who was stronger, faster, quiet evenings by the river talking softly about their visions for the future. It had never been a question: whatever that future was, they were in each other's. Two young men making an oath under the setting sun to always stick together–to the end. 

Except, older now, they're aware of what's been on the wind without them ever noticing: the strained relationship between their families, tense words, a mask of politeness put on only for their sons. Until they came of age. Leaving boyhood behind and becoming men, they listened to their mothers and fathers, heard about the fighting over who Skyrim belonged to, the conflict over whether or not the Empire had any place in the province. The truth, no longer watered down.

[You were the one that I wasn't supposed to lose.] 

They had their first full blown argument after what had started as a joke and had left each other full of apprehension. They'd once thought it ridiculous, thought the conflict over the war would never–could never–bother them here. But neither man was willing to concede, and stilted interactions became fewer and fewer, until Ralof watched his oldest friend leave for the last time, heading out of the gate towards Solitude. To join the Empire. Hadn't he been listening? The Imperials made demands and they were expected to follow them–but who was the Empire to give commands on Skyrim's soil? Initial despair slowly burned away into a sense of betrayal, and soon Ralof was leaving, too, making the journey to Windhelm to join Ulfric. 

Years and worlds apart, promotion after promotion, as much as they hated it, as guilty and terrible as they felt when memories returned, they still thought about one another; it's not often you forget such an old friend–maybe even your first friend. They never saw each other on the battlefield and prayed that was enough, that they'd never have to be the one to end each other's life. And their wish was granted. 

[Never again will I look into the only eyes that knew me, feels like a bullet running through me!]

It was while Hadvar read the prison logs his captain gave him after an unexpected detour that the world came to a sudden halt. The sounds of armor and weapons, voices and footsteps–everything faded, replaced with his heart pounding in his ears. He sucked in a single, shallow breath when his chest ached and he realized he'd stopped breathing and he read the list again. 'Stormcloak; Ralof; Riverwood.' His blood ran ice cold and he shivered despite the warmth of his station. He'd known the names on the list were why he was here, was why Tullius had so abruptly changed course and had ridden so hard to Helgen; they were here for an execution, or a few, and he'd already been struggling to cope with the fact, head full of cotton for the last day and a half as he assisted with preparations. It was bad enough he was here as a part of something as gruesome as an execution–death was awful enough on a battlefield, full of adrenaline and necessity–but when he realized his friend's name was on the list, everything just… stopped. He scanned the list again and again, trembling fingers tracing each name on the page, but it never changed from what he knew it was. When he came back to himself some time later–so much later that the candle nearby had burned down–he pleaded for a different assignment, a different role during the event, and each time he was harshly denied. He'd been given an order. It would be followed.

He practiced reading the names through the burning lump in his throat, and it took hours before he could speak them without breaking down. 

[You were the one that I wasn't supposed to lose–I thought I'd have you for a lifetime! Have you for a lifetime.] 

It had been days since the Imperial ambush, and Ralof had gotten better about hiding how uncertain he was. He was part of Ulfric's guard–he needed to appear calm, needed to keep it together for the rest of the Stormcloaks, but exhaustion weighed heavily and he knew they could see it in his glassy eyes. He had no idea how the Empire seemingly knew where they'd be, and he had no idea where it was taking him, where it was taking Ulfric and the heart of their campaign. All he knew was that they wouldn't survive wherever they were going, and while his last days would be full of fear and remorse, his kinsmen didn't have to spend theirs the same. He did his best to keep them calm, reassure them–lie through his teeth to avoid starting a panic and having them all killed somewhere in the woods instead. 

He had a series of realizations once the prison caravan reached the first gate. There was Tullius, arguing with the Thalmor he'd betrayed his citizens for, here for the show; as the cart rattled along over the cobbles, he started to distantly recognize where they were beneath all the Imperial banners; and as the caravan came to a stop and something caught his eye–sunlight gleaming on wicked, curved steel in the distance–that this was going to be their last hour alive. You've prepared for this, he told himself, and he had; fighting against sleep to keep the peace, he'd done what praying and pleading for forgiveness he could to prepare himself for the death he knew was coming. 

Ralof was not prepared for Hadvar to be holding the ledger when he stepped off the cart.

It had been years since they'd seen each other, but he'd know his friend's face anywhere, as often as it haunted his dreams. His chest felt tight as he watched the soldier look over the prisoners, and when their eyes met between the shoulders of everyone between them, he watched Hadvar's expression crumple before he forced it into something more presentable, bowing his head low over the book in his hands to hide the despair in his eyes and the miserable twist of his mouth. Somehow, despite the exhaustion that had him swaying on his feet and the overwhelming urge to run, get out, escape running through his veins, he managed enough energy to feel a flicker of anger. What good would Hadvar's regret do him? What good did it do as his shoulders rose with a deep, measured breath and he read aloud Ulfric's name? 

"Ralof of Riverwood." Quiet, steady–steady in the way a man spoke when he was trying not to cry, steady like his own words had been hours before. Dark, miserable eyes followed him as he moved off the path towards an expectant soldier, and as they passed one another, whatever anger Ralof had mustered died out. What good did forcing himself to hate a friend do him in his last moments? Even as he passed him by and the headsman came clearly into view, he could admit to himself that all this time, he's still considered Hadvar a friend. And the darkness under his eyes, a face as tired as his own: Ralof knew without anything being said that the Imperial felt the same. 

He stood as tall as he could on unsteady legs next to Ulfric, proud to stand and die beside him, as much as it terrified him–he was young, after all, had known the risks but thought he'd have more time. Hadvar, hardly a distance away, could only take in what would be the last time he'd ever see his best friend, exhausted, bound, and sent to the block by his own words. His condemnation. Heads filled with duties and regrets, both men tried to face what was coming with their heads as high as they could and wondered how much of it was for each other. 

Later, they would meet again, though they were unaware–it would be sooner than they'd ever think, surrounded by smoke and ash and raining hellfire, shouting to be heard over the din. Voices straining to be heard, a desperate performance as steel shines wickedly in the firelight, two enemies knowing what their station demands and unwilling to do it, hoping, once again, they wouldn't be the one to end the other's life. 

[eskewcity]

hello! any recs for recent indie games you've been playing or generally any you've found this year that you'd recommend? i really want some to play over the summer (i love horror obvs but i will take any you recommend)!

of course!

if you like horror, please play the crooked man! If you’re someone who was familiar with the surge of jrpg horror games in the early 2010s, then you might have heard of this one. I decided to play it earlier this month because I completely forgot the plot and it’s totally worth it! It’s very clearly inspired by silent hill but i still think it has a style of it’s own and I really enjoyed the story. also I 🫶 David Hoover

it’s also a part of a tetralogy called the strange man series that is about… strange men. I won’t say it’s the best but it’s quite cheap if you get interested after tcm and it’s one of those series where the creator decided every past character needs to be in the next game somehow in increasingly ridiculous ways.

I’ve also been playing Eastshade which is kind of Skyrim but without the fighting and where you are a painter. It’s a very beautiful game and it’s always fun to explore to see if there’s any secret quests you can find.

not so recently I finished we happy few which is not good but not bad! It definitely did not turn out the way I remember it looked in demos years ago but I still had fun with it.

also finished old city: leviathan a few months back which was pretty neat. I definitely liked it more in the beginning than towards the end but some of the writing absolutely slaps. You’re playing as a city dweller in an abandoned sewer system learning about a war between the three ideological groups that had formed. if you’re okay with some dense reading it can actually get quite interesting.

I played the inheritance of crimson manor which was a fun spooky time. It’s basically just exploring a Victorian mansion and solving puzzles but I thought it was neat!

the painscreek killings is somewhat the same but you explore an entire abandoned town to solve a murder! it has some annoying backtracking but it was really fun for me since there was such a diversity of places to explore.

I almost forgot this but this has probably been one of if not my favorite game to play this year but mundaun!!!! It’s this beautifully created horror game where all the textures were hand sketched by the creator. It takes place in Switzerland and it’s about the protagonist visiting their old village after their grandfather passes away. It involves a lot of Swiss folklore and the character is fully voiced in Romansh which is not something I’ve encountered in games before.

If you would be interested, I also just added a lot whole bunch of game to my wishlist including - subway midnight, hylics, umurangi generation, you must be 18 or older to enter, how fish is made, how to say goodbye, scorn, scanner sombre, hypnospace outlaw, yomawari: lost in the dark, Spookware, rain world, everything, one dreamer, a little to the left, norco, glitchriders the spaces between, lone survivor, unheard, the enigma machine, world of horror, not for broadcast, anodyne, cats and the other lives, gruund, slay the princess + more i am too lazy to list

hope this helps! :)

[dalishthunder]

WIP Wednesday

Tagged by @totally-not-deacon ty much! Gonna tag @whispers-of-masser

Have some more from Destiny Waits for No One

Up in the mountains, snow was a near constant part of life. You learned that the hard way when you had to dig your way out of the inn after two days of it leaving nearly three feet in its wake for you to trudge through.

"I don't understand why we have to make our way up the mountain in this kind of condition. Surely the Greybeards can wait until after thaw...." Nebarra grumbled, and for once Xelzaz agreed with him.

"Perhaps it would be best for us to wait until some of this has melted...." The argonian replied.

Kaidan snorted, pushing past them. "That's not how Skyrim works. At this altitude the snow won't melt until summer. So either we head out now and take our chances, or we wait several months."

Nebarra balked, Lucien letting out an uncomfortable little laugh.

"And something tells me the Greybeards wouldn't appreciate their summons taking that long. We've already dallied several days," Kaidan continued. "But it's not my place to say what we do here." He turned to look at you, nearly waist deep in snow. "Dragonborn, what say you?"

You looked among your friends, noting the unease in their eyes. "I... I will go. Anyone who wants to stay at the inn for now, I think I have spare coin enough left for a week or so. I won't judge anyone for not accompanying me."

"What, and leave you alone to fend off gods know what on that mountain? Are you serious?" Kaidan scoffed. "No, Dragonborn, I'm afraid you're not rid of me that easily."

"Just... don't lead me to an early grave." Nebarra sighed as he stood by your side.

"As nice as curling up near a warm fire sounds, a burden is made lighter by many hands." Inigo placed his hand on your shoulder.

"Yeah! I am coming too! I want to see the Graybeards." Khash grinned.

Both Lucien and Lucifer agreed as well, and you almost wanted to cry, but that sounded ridiculous and you didn't want Nebarra mocking you all the way up the mountain. "I'm glad you're all here." You gave them all the biggest smile you could, feeling the cold already beginning to dry out your lips.

[sunxdusk]

Briengr sat in the library of the College of Winterhold.

The glowing lanterns flickered eerily, illuminating the rows and rows of shelves and pigeonholes containing scrolls, leather-bound books, maps, and other sensitive documents that would require special permission to read. The college library was surprisingly well furnished and stocked, although the librarian hadn’t bothered to update any of the more essential volumes. As a result, most books were unreadable, written in ancient nordic runes that were foreign even to him. Still, there was a good selection of Altmeri volumes and many maps of the mountains that populated Skyrim.

Some elvish maps were executed with far more detail and precision than human maps. His kin, it seemed, were sticklers for detail and perfection.

As should every Altmer strive to be. Perfection, Came Ancano’s nasally voice, and Briengr shook his head, frowning at the memory of the bastard cornering him during lunch and daring to order him to spy on his classmates. ‘You have a duty to your people! To the Thalmor! You will not dare disobey a direct order from me!’

Audacious prick.

On the low crafted table in front of him was spread out a map of the mountains showing the area around Winterhold for all of a hundred leagues. Little pictographs indicated towns and villages and it was easy to understand their meanings. A blue axe indicated a flowing river. A sword might be an iron mine. A boat indicated a port where merchant ships might go down the Sea of Ghosts. Major trails were marked in thick red lines, lesser ones in thinner ones. What looked like perilous routes through mountains were lines of black dots. Crossed swords indicated a battle site. An orc’s head most likely marked the lair of an Orc Hold. Looking at the map Briengr could see that ths place he was looking for ran down to the lowlands of the eastern side of Winterhold. The way was clear but from there it was a long circuitous route to Labyrinthian. The fastest way lay along the old roads, faded with time.

It looked as if his peers were right, he thought sourly. It might be quicker to wait and gather supplies for the perilous journey. Assuming he could get past a horde of undead, it would be for the best to take it slow, and judging by the number of skull symbols on the map, possibly much safer.

Annoyed and impatient, Briengr slammed his hands on the hard surface, gritting his teeth at the ridiculousness of it all. For years he’d been searching for knowledge that would complete his training in the way of the Ethereal Hunter, and now he was once again forced to wait!

@winterfollows