#man! thinking of vampires has me missing skyrim

[astrxealis]

friends i really want to share astarion to you guys who don't know him/well because GODS he's everything ... he's the moment he's the world he's the light he's the darkness.....

[archangelsunited]

WIP Whenever

Tagged by @mareenavee! Thank you very much. If you are reading this, please assume I tagged you. I am personally poking you, asking for more info on your fics. Personally.

A bit of my Dragonborn in the Dawnguard, from Measure to Measure. Serana finds out how long she was in the coffin, and Tyre learns a little bit about her home life.

“Was your father the one who locked you in here?” Tyre asked. “How long were you in there?”

           “No.” Serana grimaced, shaking her head. “And I don’t think anything can actually kill my father. I don’t know how long I’ve been in there. What is the date?”

           Children. Tyre thought. Tyre told her the date.

           “No, the year.” Serana’s voice was impatient.

           Tyre’s eyebrows rose, then he took a long sip of his waterskin.

           Serana squirmed. “Sorry, Can you tell me the year?”

           “It’s the two hundred and sixth year of the fourth era.” Tyre watched as Serana’s eyes went wide in a sort of comedic horror. “What year were you placed in the-“ Tyre started to cough, but gestured at the monolith.

           Serana thought for a moment. “I don’t remember, exactly. Something happened, something really big, that made my father nervous about ten years before? He had to appease something. I remember that. There were a lot of dead bodies. It was two years after Potentate Versidue-Shaie died. Apparently there was some sort of assassin’s guild signed their work, my father had to leave home for the first time in a while. My mother wasn’t happy.”

           “That’s the beginning of the Dark Brotherhood, I think. I can see why that would put a bunch of Daedric worshippers in a tizzy.” Tyre mentally calculated. Eight-hundred ninety six, the second era’s fixed. Four hundred thirty-three, we lived by Talos’ decree. That’s eight-hundred ninety-six plus four hundred thirty-three plus two-hundred six, that’s fifteen hundred thirty-five. Estimates on the Night Mother from that damn book have her dying at three twenty-six. Tyre had read quite a few rare books, sitting by Lydia’s bedside, but that had been the worst. So, fifteen hundred thirty-five minus three hundred twenty-six. She was in the coffin a little over twelve hundred years, give or take a decade. She’s been in that coffin longer than any vampire has ever lived, or at least any that I’ve met.

           Tyre stared at the girl.

           “You’ve been in there for around twelve-hundred years.” Tyre said. “You missed the Third Era completely, which is good- I heard it was shit.”

           The girl shuddered.

           Tyre hesitated for a moment. “I don’t think its likely your father is alive, Serana. The oldest vampire I have ever met- alive, might have been three-hundred.”

           Serana gave a long, slow blink. She opened her mouth, and Tyre immediately had the image of a tongue slicing through his neck- but shook the image away. As Serana closed her mouth for a moment.

           “I don’t think we will be that lucky.” Serana finally said.

           <<>><<>><<>><<>><<>>

           Tyre cleaned his armor as Serana started searching the bodies Tyre had left. He asked that she stay on this level until Tyre could go with her. He told her he would get her to her family home, to see if anyone was alive.

           “I can take care of myself, you know.” Serana patted the dagger on her hip with a hand glowing red.

           “The people looking to kill vampires, the Dawnguard, they don’t come in ones and twos, generally.” Tyre said, not addressing the fact that he was absolutely sure whoever trained vampires had done a poor job.  “They go out in threes, at minimum. They wear heavy armor and full plated helmets. Their crossbows break stone into bits. Do an old man some good, stay within yelling distance.”

           Serana didn’t look convinced, but she did as he said. Tyre had the odd feeling she had likely grown up in Skyrim- you didn’t see that sort of behavior from the kids in Cyrodil. She found a couple books, an old journal.

           “I know this vampire, I think.” Serana called out. She came jogging up to Tyre, wide smile on her face. “The vampire with white hair, his name was Lokil. my father changed him right before the sacrifices that I was talking about.”

           Tyre finished fixing his armor, pulling it back on slowly. He couldn’t move quickly, he needed rest. He walked over to where Serana was rummaging through pockets.

           “I take it you didn’t like him.” Tyre’s voice was stuck at a whisper, but it wasn’t giving out on him.

           “He was a servant.” Serana shrugged. “I didn’t feel one way or another about him. A thousand years can change a lot- look, he’s wearing the armor of a Master.”

           Tyre bent down to see what he could, turning the vampire over.

           “He doesn’t look that old.” Tyre moved the body about. “He looks young.” His cheeks were full, his face flushed purple with blood. His bones did not cut across his face.”

           Serana looked at him strangely. She pulled out a medallion, gleaming silver and jade. Unlike the medallions the other vampires were wearing, this one gave off a feeling of misery and destitution.

           “This is one of my father’s medallions.” Serana said, lifting it up. “Its given to his delegates, especially when he is instituting a search, and might step on other people’s toes. I don’t see why though, it isn’t like he couldn’t take care of them.”

           “Killing people is a lot of work.” Tyre said dryly. Serana seemed to be of the opinion her father was invincible. “Delegating is a sign of a good ruler, are you sure that its your father’s, or is it a symbol of office?”

           Serana’s eyes went hooded again. She turned the amulet for Tyre to see two indents made in the back of the metal. A hole, two straight gashes, and another hole.

           “This is his bite mark.” Serana said. “He’s alive.” Her face twisted. “If it has been a thousand years, why is he looking for me now?”

           “If he didn’t know where you were, why was this place so important to vampires in the first place.” Tyre looked around. The architecture was different than anything he had ever seen.

           Serana blushed. A deep purple spread across her cheeks and her eyes darkened to a deep black, with only the glowing orange iris’ standing out. “This is where mother would, well. This is where she kept her consorts and students.”

           Tyre didn’t say anything.

           “It wasn’t anything bad, really!” Serana said. “Dad wasn’t always able to help her out when he was human, so she would go out and come back and be ready to be a wife again. When we turned, she didn’t see any reason to stop. It was negotiated and everything.”

           “Did your parents tell you about it?” Tyre asked. That had to be awkward knowledge for anyone to have, especially a teenage daughter.

           “I thought mother was cheating on him.” Serana said, more purple running up her face. “So I told her I would tell my father if she didn’t,” Serana’s mouth twisted. “Well, it doesn’t matter. She sat me down and had a long talk about blackmail and why you had to be sure it would work and then went on to tell me about sex as a physical act versus intimacy. I zoned out a bit.”

           Tyre snorted. Then he let out some chuckles. Then, without being able to make sound, he started laughing. He wasn’t sure if he had laughed, full out laughed, since Lydia died.

           “What did your da say about it?” Tyre asked, whisper now hoarse. Serana was scowling at him, looking like a wounded bear cub.

           “He congratulated me on trying to blackmail someone for the first time.” She started walking away. Tyre got up and followed, chest vibrating with amusement.

[bougainvillea-and-saltwater]

Hiii, Jia! I have a few questions!

1. When you want to go on a stroll, where do you go? Which Skyrim region is best for long, relaxing walks, considering that there's a big amount of mudcrabs and bears....

2. Opinions about vampires and vampirism?

3. Do you play an instrument?

4. Who did you help, Faendal or Sven?

5. Who did you go with, Ralof or Hadvar? (Side note, they should just forget about the civil war and kiss, am I right?)

6. Have you been to other parts of Tamriel? If yes, tell me all about it, girl.

7. On a scale of 1 to 10, how romantic would you consider yourself?

8. Drop the haircare routine, girl, I NEED IT!

I hope I didn't ask too many, I got carried away and BARELY stopped myself :)))

Oh, all these questions for me? *she beams heartily and you can discern the little tooth gap she has between her front teeth* Thank you so much!

It's rather strange, but the first thought that came to my mind was the bogs around Morthal. I know that it is most likely not the typical place one would think of for a relaxing walk since mudcrabs, frostbite spiders, trolls, and all sorts of wild beasts lurk there more than any other place, but... But I love it. Hjaalmarch's flora is ever so rich in alchemy ingredients! Isn't it so fascinating? In its gloomy, misty groves, you can sense the hum of all magical energies, you can almost feel the bitterness of the Deathbells and Nightshades upon your lips. It's my favorite place I think, when... when troubles are clouding my mind, and I stride through it, gathering my ingredients. That way, I feel like I can relieve a portion of my tension...

Like werewolfism, I wouldn't choose vampirism for myself, for I know firsthand how uncontrollable they both can be. I have a good friend, Serana—Gods, I miss her a great deal—who is a vampire. And not just any vampire... She—she is a Daughter of Coldharbour. You know how a young maiden becomes a Daughter of Coldharbour, don't you? *gradually, you see her eyes darken, and she drags a rattling breath before she continues* A-Anyway... Serana has told me in detail what it's like to be a vampire—the hunger, the thirst is everlasting, and naught but blood can satiate it. Food, water—everything feels like dust in their mouths. The sun makes their frozen blood boil until it threatens to spill out of every pore of their skin, and they melt into bloody ashes. I think... I think, in reality, they suffer inside their own bodies, and for that, I cannot bring myself to hate them...

I'm very much afraid I'm not so musically inclined, although I used to sing when I was a child, and I'd love to learn how to play the lute. But... But I adore it when my dear heart sings... *she smiles shyly and lovingly* When I hear his sing-song voice hymning a theme forgotten and foreign from another worlds or eras, it's like hearing the most melodious lutes coming from the most talented ever lived. 

Maybe... Maybe I have sabotaged them both... *she shuffles nervously from one leg to the other* It's not my fault they were both trying to win Camilla's heart in ways that brought out their toxic masculinity! The woman deserves better. 

My memories of Helgen are... hazy. No matter how much I try to push myself, there are little things I can recollect. I was numbed, I was—drugged. I only waited for the moment when my head would be finally chopped off and would be put out of my misery. *you see her nervously picking her thumbs* I almost mechanically followed Ralof. He is a very good man, both he and his sister's family. They offered me soap and hot water, clean clothes, and food, and they let me sleep under their roof for a night. This, I'll never forget. Oh! *her face suddenly went from melancholy and mournful to bright and playful* Do you really believe they have fallen in a fateful love?

After I fulfilled my destiny as a Dragonborn, I had some... visions, I believe they were—of a city bearing the sigil of a black Wolf beneath a grey background; I had never seen this city not once in my life, but I knew it wasn't of Skyrim's. It was built upon a great cliff, and all around it, thick woodlands arose and encroached it. In my dreams, I wandered along this city on a central street that always ended up in a glorious chapel. It towered majestically before my eyes, almost touching the heavens, while it shone entirely with light—light without source or beginning, uncreated and divine, commanding every wound in my soul to heal. I raised my eyes and witnessed how this light belonged to a monumental figure in the shape of a dragon, wholly wreathing in holy fire. As I immediately kneeled and prostrated before Akatosh himself, who stood atop the chapel and looked down at me, his humbled creation, the Dragon God spoke to me, though his voice was that of a man's, most warmly and tenderly, as if he'd known me for years, and he said, "Welcome to the city of Kvatch, my child." *she lifts her emotional gaze at you* The only place I'd ever long too much to go, not in dreams anymore, would be Kvatch—the place that gave birth to the line of my father.

Nowadays? *she chuckles and her cheeks glow alight* I give myself a 10 out of 10. I had my romantic heart stomped on once, but now... Now I had it healed again.

I like to bathe it early every morning when I can, with my favorite soap being a mixture of lavender and snowberries that I made myself in my alchemy lab. But since my hair tends to be quite… unruly, like me, as Miraak keeps telling me, my secret to being able to brush it is to spread a little bit of honey in the ends, and it quickly gets so silky smooth! After I brush my hair, I usually activate a gentle flame cloak spell to dry it faster. I never let it unbound, even though this tends to be quite appreciated by Miraak, unless I'm in Heljarchen Hall… I always have it braided, and so, with each braid, I like my plaited mane to resemble a dragon scale that misses my human body. (From this ask game!)

[randompasserbyer]

For the D.I.D meme, 1, 6, 16 and 17

sytfuygihnoi #1 is a big one so I’ll answer the other 3 in another ask lmao

1.  Introduce your headmates/alters. How many are there? What are they all like?

So, there’s 26 of us, give or take 2, so I’ll try to give brief descriptions of everyone in order of when they split. Thank you for asking uwu

Blue is our host. He's the one we all refer to as the owner of the body. His form in the headspace shifts depending on his kinshift, but he’s usually presenting as an Underswap Sans fictive. He uses he/him pronouns a lot but he’s genderfluid and often doesn’t consider himself a man and appreciates being called a woman despite using he/him pronouns. Gender is confusing tyfugihop

Sam is the main protector/gatekeeper of our system. She’s been around the longest, she was the first that Blue was aware of when he noticed the system, and we all kind of look up to her. She’s a “take no shit” type of person and we’re all very grateful for her. She looks like a ghost and I don’t know how else to describe her iohguyfutd

Quadi is our main trauma holder. She rarely fronts and I have zero clue how to describe what she looks like. Nobody ever interacts with her in the headspace because she’s always in her room. If she fronts,, just send her love and support.

Shnep is.. well, I don’t actually know her role, to tell you the truth oiugfyt She looks like Walmart-brand Flame Atronach from Skyrim. She only gets to front if Sam lets her front and it’s a controlled environment. Loves to play videogames tho. Murder Mystery is her favorite cause she gets to let loose.

Watcher is our persecutor. He’s only gotten front, like, twice in the last year but he causes plenty of harm in the headspace. He can shapeshift and the only way we can tell it’s him is that his eyes will stay black. He’s been around just as long as Sam, but you can never find him unless he wants you to. Our protectors are good at keeping everyone safe.

Zane is our sexual protector/trauma holder. He stays in his room as well but we’re free to come visit him at any time. I don’t,, really know?? how to describe him?? He’s another shapeshifter but I personally haven’t interacted with him since I formed so I can’t tell you much ftuhiojn

Viper is a giant skeleton lamia and while I personally quake in fear, he’s a genuine sweetheart and he loves talking to people. He knows broken English but he doesn’t let that stop him. He actually went dormant shortly after forming and nobody knew he even formed until he woke up a year and a half later and everyone went “Huh?????”

Nightshade is an Error Sans fictive. He’s another one of our protectors and he’s really good at his job. To be more specific, he’s an avenger, he helps us deal with our abusers. He’s gotten over his haphephobia for the most part since splitting, though it flares up around strangers and honestly I don’t blame him.

Template is a Template Sans fictive lmao. creative nickname I know XD He’s a middle and Nightshade is fiercely protective of him. He loves to play videogames and draw. Ask him about Spyro or Pokemon ;) He keeps going in and out of dormancy so,, idk when he’ll front again but he always seems to have a good time when he does.

404 is a Blueberror fictive. He’s fairly impulsive and.. yknow, I want to say he’s impulsive, but the guy has so many amnesia barriers about his entire being that I can’t say it for certain. He’s a cryptid. You’ll never see him in the headspace unless you see one of his soft triggers and he has so few of those lmao (Our partner says he’s like Ghostbur but hyper, so take that as you will)

Gold is a Birdtale Sans fictive. He doesn’t like to talk unless you’ve gained his complete trust, or he’s alone. He’s very much a “body language is a universal language and it’s the only language in the universe I know” kind of guy. He tells great puns tho. He’s pretty chill. Apparently he formed like.. years ago?? And Sam had just been blocking him from the main area of our headspace for a really long time??

Squid is our Ink Sans fictive (are you seeing a pattern here? Hyperfixation go brrrr). He’s chaos but he can be pretty down to earth if he wants to be. He’s stuck in a state of constantly missing his old life, though. He loves to draw and leave long supportive chaotic comments on other people’s art. If he can’t draw, he gets anxious.

WDG is our Handplates Gaster fictive. His lab takes up the entire basement of the headspace mansion and half of it is just an entrance to the Void, which only he and Shard can access. He’s very analytical and emotionally and physically distant, but he’s really good at making sure the body is taken care of. He likes to document everything he does and when so it’s pretty easy to see what he did when he fronted. Terrified of his curiosity though, that skeleton loves science way too much.

Shard and Sunshine are a subsystem Shattered!Dream fictive. Sunshine is really sweet but very paranoid and sensitive. Shard is actually both a persecutor and a protector. Kind of a.. “Nobody gets to hurt this system except me” kind of vibe, yknow? He’s been working hard to reform though because he hurt our partner once and felt really bad. He’s come a long way ^^

Viola is an Underswap Sans fictive, but she split from a fanfiction called By the Angel (it’s nsfw if you look it up, but it’s got a great plot lol). She’s actually transgender since her fic has her as he/him and we’re very supportive of her <3 She’s.. I don’t know how to describe her other than she’s got an old soul and a old-fashioned way of speaking. She loves to listen to kulning videos. Swedish culture really vibes with her.

Drake is a fictive from a really old Minecraft roleplay called The Haunted. He’s half Enderman and he can do magic. He’s kind of timid and his anxiety is always through the roof. He gets hella dysphoric when he fronts and often has headaches and we’re?? not sure?? if he’s a subsystem or not??? with Herobrine??????? He won’t tell anyone if he is or not, he just dodges the question.

*inhale* Pinky is a vampire Ink Sans fictive. He’s what would happen if you gave a vampiric opossum a bigger body lmao. He’s incredibly mischievous (and a tad selfish, if you ask me) and likes to cause pranks at the worst times. He adores our partner though.

TB is a Technoblade fictive/factive. Both?? It’s hard to tell with him. He looks like a twunk piglin and behaves like one too. He’s taken on the role of protector recently, though, and he monitors any new splits until we’re sure they’re not going to hurt the body or any relationships with other folks. He likes to talk about piglin culture a lot. (he kins Billiam and it’s entertaining to watch him call everyone peasants and poor when we too are in fact poor)

Phil is our Philza fictive. He’s the dad friend of the system, the caretaker. He takes a very neutral stance on things and will often refuse to step into a fight, but he will try to calm folks down. I can’t tell you how much of a comfort he is. He loves to talk about his past life and his little family, though he gets sad about it sometimes.

Ghost is our Ghostbur fictive. He loves pranks and he’s very sweet. He has so much blue, you would not believe. He’s such a softy and loves to make people smile. He either hangs around TB, Phil, or Theo and he doesn’t usually front alone. He does have Alivebur shifts but he essentially just gets really edgy and depressed in a sort of self destructive way, but he’s still soft. He just tells really wild jokes and he’s a lot more impulsive.

SNL/Space Heater (he doesn’t have a good nickname yet) is our Sapnap factive/fictive. He really enjoys front but he doesn’t really get much done when he fronts tfuygiuhoip He just reads fanfiction lmao. He loves Dadboyhalo and Dreamnap content. He’s a pretty chill guy, doesn’t get into a lot of fights. He just wants to have fun.

Theo is our protege!Tommy fictive. He actually split from the popular fic Rewind and he’s just been.. vibing? He gets along well with Sapnap most of the time but he’s had a lot of trouble warming up to TB, Phil, and Ghost. I think he enjoys front?? He fronts often enough. I don’t know how to describe him except that he’s very Tommy-like lmao

Fakier is our newest split. He’s an ARG Wilbur fictive. He doesn’t like to talk too much about himself but he loves to infodump about codes and cryptic stuff like that. He’s actually done a lot with taking care of the body and taking long walks outside and just, enjoying life. He did leave the windows open on a really cold day tho and our apartment hasn’t been warm since :\ He seems cool, I’m just annoyed that my fingers and toes are freezing off lmao /hyperbole

We’ve had a few integrate over the past two years so it’s hard to keep track of how many there are for sure, but that should be everyone. Sorry for the wall of text dytufibonk Hope you liked the answer tho ^^ I’ll answer the other 3 answers tomorrow in a post together and @ you so you don’t miss them uwu

[curiouscarllee]

Hello, I'm making a list of my OCs with a bit of art and information! I am doing this because I feel as though I post a lot about my characters without ever providing any detail, so, here you go :) On top of this, I'd like to state that I am always intrested in hearing about your ocs as well, you are more than welcome to send me an ask about them or about my own characters :)

Fairlynn: My Main

Fairlynn is a bosmer, he is the Hero of Kvatch and also Sheogorath. He is a tad unpredictable and has some mental issues in regards to mirroring the mad god and myself. Fairlynn was 28 when he started with saving the world, only 29 when it ended and full of grief with Martin's passing. This drove him to the Shivering Isles in hopes that he could persuade a daedric prince to revive his beloved. That's not at all how it went down, upon noticing this realm was not one of a stronger prince, Fairlynn was tempted to leave the plane but found himself infatuated with it instead.

After a few years, the princes sensed a danger approaching, one in the form of an imperial male that had the possibility of defeating them. Therefore, they agreed to send one of themselves down to nirn in an attempt to stop it. Unfortunately, they chose Fairlynn to get the job done and yeeted him down where the bosmer began to gather enforcments in the form of other people which he thought would become allies when they grew older.. But what he didn't expect was the imperial managed to befriend every. Single. One. Of the people Fairlynn had set on course to hate the man, none of them truly did. That's the exact moment where he went, "if you can't beat em' join em'." And promptly joined the group in his mortal form without revealing to them who he was. Instead the group thinks he's just a skooma addict that is talented in the ways of fighting. They have no idea.

Ragnar

This is that imperial male stated in the last description. This man is destined to destroy the influence of the daedric princes on the mortal people, however, he has the intelligence of a box of rocks and everyone doubts this prophecy to be true. The only time one can possibly think this true is when he displays his power in the midst of battle, he was blessed by the divines at birth, each giving him power to defeat the evil of the world. He his bound to use it.. But he never uses it for good, I mean,, why would he? He could kill anyone he wants! No way he's gonna be the "good hero"! (Basically, this was my brother's character and he used mods to make him op so I had to improvise.)

Past wise, my brother and I decided to intertwine him with the lore. You rememeber the song Ragnar the Red? That was Ragnar's father. In truth, his name should be Ragnar the second or Ragnar Jr. but his mother, Matilda, said "hahahaha, no, your father was a mess and you shall not be him." and removed the second part. After his mother died of a sickness, Ragnar hesitantly moved towns in search of work. He missed his mother greatly and would give anything to have her back.

S'arra

Meet S'arra, she is a khajiit female and the heart of the group (along side another who you'll meet shortly). S'arra is the youngest, she may be sweet but she'll rob you blind if she sees a chance. S'arra came from a happy family in Elsywer, she was the child of F'awn and Ja'zaka, two khajiit with completely different sets of morals. Ja'zaka was a born bandit, he was wild and carefree, F'awn (My friends oc :)) was a gentle and caring woman, she loved to live. When F'awn got pregnant, her brother, J'ar, lost his mind. J'ar was fueled with anger towards Ja'zaka and at one point made an attempt at his brother-in-law's life. It was at that moment J'ar was kicked from F'awn's life, he ran from his home and joined a vampire clan/bandit group in Skyrim.

Only months after her birth, Ja'zaka disappeared. He ran and never came back. F'awn tried her best to raise S'arra, but one morning S'arra was taken from her by a rabid animal that invaded the town. The creature took off with S'arra and lead the small khajiit to it's den where a caravan traveling to Skyrim would soon find her and take her with them, raising her as their own on the roads of Skyrim. The caravan was killed and attacked by a certain bandit group/vampire clan (hahaha, yup, the one J'ar is in). S'arra joined the group in hopes of revenge, although, she'll keep that bit to herself. ;)

Adoren

Now this orc, oh he's amazing. He is an old man, a precious old man with a past of pain and betrayal. In order to introduce his past, we need to introduce his adpoted brother first:

Zanik

This is Adoren's adopted brother, Zanik (grandson of Nellie), a not so nice older man. Zanik was thrown out by his father a young age, more precisely, he was thrown in a river by his father in one of his father's crazed fits. Zanik can't swim, he hates water more than anything else in his life. The dunmer was washed to shore near an orc stronghold where he was picked up by Adoren and adopted by the orcs family. Zanik and Adoren lived happily for many many years, one day they went on an exploration to scout for different hunting grounds. It started to pour causing the two to take shelter in a dwemer ruin. That's when they heard soft groaning and sounds of pain coming from down one of the halls. Hesitantly, they explored. Only to find:

Kidawe

My most lore breaking character! Meet Kidawe, a small snow elf from one of the last remaining villiages of falmer! Now, yes, I am breaking the lore because, since when has canon lore stopped me? Kidawe lived on top of the mountains to the north of Cyrodiil and the South of Skyrim. His village is small and portable, in case they need to move, the tribe of elves is shrouded in mystery, they've managed to live this long and refuse to leave their mountain. Kidawe doesn't listen to that, he runs off each night in search for dwemer ruins, things he find more then interesting. The young elf holds no fear when he's in his element, and he loves to explore. One evening, while in a ruin he is attacked by a vampire/bandit named Raeferth (the leader) who pushes him to join the group, trying to convince the snow elf that his expertise is needed. Kidawe refuses and then engages in battle with the nord, he looses and ends up pinned under a fallen pillar that crushes his arm.

Upon waking up after falling unconscious from the pain, Kidawe is met with the sight of Adoren and Zanik standing over him. After many many months of trust building, the two get Kidawe to befriend them. Kidawe uses their help to fashion himself a new arm from dwarven parts found in the ruin. After a few years, Kidawe disappears. He was taken by force by Raeferth (the others do not know this). Adoren and Zanik are heart broken. They miss their friend greatly.

Adoren/Zanik Pt.2

After losing Kidawe, these two go off and join a bandit group.. Yes the same vampire clan group. Adoren thrives in the group, he his strong and more then willing to get his hands dirty. Zanik.. Not so much. Zanik is only kept around because of Adoren. They all know not to mess with Zanik or else they mess with Adoren.

After spending a few years with them, Adoren decides he can't continue this. Zanik begs him not to leave, trying to make the orc realize that this group will not let them go without hurting them. Adoren doesn't listen and leaves the bandits, later that day the stronghold is burnt to the ground. Adoren looses everything in the fire, his parents pass away, his friends and family. Instead of processing lose normally, he makes it up in his head that the reason Zanik was warning him was because Zanik had a hand in it. Therefore the two fight and Adoren punches Zanik, he's wearing a ring that catches under Zanik's flesh and pratically tears off his cheek leaving the dunmer with a horrible scar. Adoren warns Zanik never to speak with him again.

Which of course doesn't stand because after they grew up into old men, they cross eachother's paths once more. They both join up with the good guy group at different times, Adoren joins first after he finds them in his house, and Zanik joins when he is once again found washed up on the shore.

Zorlin

Not much on this boio, he was my first oc in the Elder Scrolls. He's an argonian heavy set warrior. Zorlin is silent and cut throat, he is a part of the Brotherhood and only joins the good guy group after his brother, Tu'ru is 'murdered' by Raeferth.

Tristane

There is so much on him. I'm just going to do bullet points:

Born in Skyrim 200+ years ago. He never knew his true parents and was instead brought up by a wealthy noble family. They more kept him around for labor.

He befriends 3 local kids, Mayrn (breton like him), Raeferth (nord trouble maker), and Lynik (Raeferth's brother).

They all cause problems and Tristane falls in love with Raeferth :D

One day Raeferth claims to have found immortality, Tristane instantly says "No, I'm not doing this." And leaves the friend group, trying to focus on himself.

He is then framed for a crime he didn't commit and sent to Cyrodiil's Imperial Prison. Then he is bailed out by the Emperor and sent to Morrowind.

Morrowind happens, Tristane changes from whining child to even whiner child with the ability to cast spells.

After Morrowind, Tristane travels to Solstiem where he is confronted with Mayrn and Lynik (both as bandit vampires).

Mayrn and Lynik try to force him back to Skyrim to see Raeferth and join them. Tristane, as he said before, says "no". So they kill him.

Now they don't really kill him, they use a method I made up called Soul Gem Reflection. This is something I completely made up but I like it so sue me. I can write an entire post on this alone so we're just gonne say, "Soul gem reflection is a method in which the targets soul is directed towards an object they held dear in life instead of dying. They're life essence is held in the soul gem, but they live in the object."

In this case, Tristane was reflected in his journal.

Lynik felt horrible for doing this to his friend, he felt guilty and returned the journal which he unknowingly relfected the breton in, and gave it to Tristane's family who in turn stuffed the journal in the basement.

Fast forward 200+ years and Adoren buys the manor, finding Tristane's journal inside and opening it. Surprise! Out springs a ghostly figure of Tristane who then convinced Adoren to take him along with the group!

Other Characters:

This is J'ar. He's mentioned above.

Also, here's some more character that aren't affiliated with the group:

-Baendil and Baendal are bosmer brothers, they were abandoned by their parents and instead found by cranky altmer father Kornan. They're bandits (not related to vampires at all). They're bad, not morally wrong but actually just bad at being bandits. They couldn't rob you even if you asked them to.

-I will add more later I'm sure.

[ladydaedra]

Scouting the Camp

Part: 11/?

Pairings: Ulfric x Dragonborn; Brynjolf x OC; Cicero x OC; Ondolemar x OC

Warnings: Descriptions of violence and gore: Skyrim takes on a bit of 'Game of Thrones' feeling; may contain controversial themes.

Wordcount:

~~~~~

"It's night, I say we wing it," Xaliyah argues from their spot on the hill above the Thalmor camp between Morthal and Solitude. They have set up camp and have been scouting the camp for two days now. 'just to make sure' is Taliyah's excuse for constantly scouting the camp, "I work best under the cover of shadows anyways,"

"We don't yet have the guard's shifts down and where they patrol," Tal explains, not looking up from the journal she brought to keep track of said things, the light of the fire flickering across her features, "and I am not going to have Ayla kill me when I tell her that you died trying to steal important information from a camp filled with Thalmor," she adds, looking up to give the thief a pointed look, telling her to not continue that train of thought.

Xaliyah sighs, falling back on to the ground, "I thought this was going to be a week-long thing," she admits and Taliyah chuckles.

"Miss him already, do ya?" the brunette asks and Xaliyah turns her head to the side to give the assassin a confused look. It has only been a few days since the kiss she shared with Brynjolf and that is all she can think about. Mainly because there is nothing to do but scout the Thalmor camp.

"That female wizard has returned to the main entrance while the male guard that was there goes to the back entrance," Taliyah points out before jotting it down in the journal, "it seems that during the nights there are only three guards posted. One at the main entrance, one at the back, and one in front of the tent that the leader sleeps,"

Xaliyah sighs from her spot on the ground, "so going at night is easier," she says before sitting up, "got it. I'll be back soon,"

"I know you're excited to steal something, but we don't know exactly where this information is or what it is exactly," the assassin says before Xaliyah can stand, "we cannot risk being reckless right now, you know that more than I do. You are the leader of the Thieve's Guild and they need you and you're the one going into danger. We need to do everything perfectly,"

Xaliyah grits her teeth before standing up, "I'm getting some sleep," she says before Tal can accuse her of disobeying her and going to the Thalmor camp, "seeing as all you want to do is check out Thalmor soldiers,"

Xaliyah smiles as she enters her tent, hearing Tal mumbling to herself, "I am not checking them out," she hears Tal mutter loudly as she climbs into bed.

~

"So I go in through here and leave the back way while the guards are switching posts?" Xaliyah asks Tal a few days later. It is midday and the group hasn't left their little campsite since they arrived. Too busy forming a perfect plan for Xaliyah to sneak in and out undetected.

"Yes and no," Tal explains, shaking her head, "the assassins surrounding the camp will lure each guard out one by one. There they will kill the guards and leave the camp defenseless. That is when you move in and steal any valuable information you can find,"

Xaliyah stares at the map of the Thalmor camp Tal drew in the dirt. It was a good plan and Xaliyah is glad she listened to Tal and waited for the assassins to show up from Dawnstar. There were five in total. A Redguard who calls himself Nazir and Tal's second, a little girl that is a vampire, as well as three recruits.

"When do we do this?"

"Tonight if you think you're ready for it," Tal replies, smiling at the thief's reaction. Even though she tries not to show it, the group knows that Xaliyah is excited to be done with this and return back to the base where Brynjolf is. Tal can only hope that the thought of returning to him doesn't cloud the thief's mind.

"But keep in mind that you will be alone in there," Tal adds and Xaliyah nods, "you may have to kill someone should they catch you,"

Everyone knows that the Guild tends to not kill their targets, regardless if they're caught. But Xaliyah has killed people before. This war was an example, but so was Mercer Frey. She flinches inwardly when she thinks of that weasel. How he separated her from Brynjolf and Karliah so long ago in that cave. How Brynjolf slipped from the ledge he and Karliah were on and how Frey focused on killing Brynjolf instead of her. The anger in Xaliyah at seeing the redhead targeted in such a vicious way.

"I can do it," she assures the assassin, who nods in response, "and I can do it tonight," that is when Tal decides to slow things down.

"Xaliyah, if you're trying to rush this to return to Brynjolf-"

Xaliyah shakes her head instantly, "it isn't, I promise, Tal," she explains quickly, "I want to get back so we can help with the war at the base. Who knows what has happened in our absence. The sooner we get this done, the better,"

~

Xaliyah crouches in a bush, looking at the camp, her eyes trained on the guard standing in front of the entrance. It is night and she is waiting for the assassin nearby to lure the Thalmor soldier into the woods. She glances up at the cliff above her where their camp is before she turns back to the Thalmor camp.

A stone hitting wood fills the area and this catches all three guard's attention. Xaliyah lowers her head when the targetted guard walks into the woods, sword drawn as he scans the area. He walks past her and she can soon hear a neck snap followed by a thud. Guard one has been taken care of.

She doesn't leave her bush until an arrow lands in front of her. The other two guards were disposed of. Game time. Taliyah walks towards the camp in a crouch, hood over her head. The fire has died down immensely and she can hear the shuffle of Thalmor soldiers in the two nearby camps.

It doesn't take Xaliyah long to find the main tent, which houses a tent with a table inside. A map sits on the table and there are red and blue flags on it. They've been following both sides of the war. She assumes that the Thalmor in this camp were assigned here to make sure if the Stormcloaks capture this hold or not and then report it to the Embassy.

Dirty bastards, Xaliyah thinks as she picks the lock of the chest nearby. She does so the first time and slowly lifts the lid. She pauses in her spot. There were so many documents in this chest. How could she possibly carry them all? She pulls out her sack and begins to stuff as many as she can in there until it was full. Shit.

Thank goodness there was another sack nearby. So now, she is emptying the chest of its contents before an arrow lands on the post of the tent she is in. She freezes. That means there is movement from the other Thalmor. She quickly grabs the last two documents before slowly closing the lid and hurrying out of the tent and into the darkness.

"Hey, who are you and state your business!" the Thalmor snaps when she steps right in front of him. She blanks, eyes wide. There was no lie she can come up with to explain why she is carrying two documents that obviously came from the camp.

"I...uh..." she stutters as the soldier draws his blade. Some thief she is. But before the Thalmor can swing, he falls to the ground, dead. Behind him stands a Redguard man, a bloody dagger in his hand. He smiles down at her and extends his hand.

Xaliyah hesitantly takes it and he pulls her up onto her feet, "you need to be more careful," he states as they begin walking back to camp, hidden by the dark forest, "if I hadn't been there, the mission would have failed and we would be hauling your body back to Ayla's base,"

Xaliyah looks at the man, brows furrowed, "you know Ayla?" she asks and the man chuckles a low chuckle.

"Everyone knows the Dragonborn," he replies as they near the camp, "I met her through Taliyah. The Dragonborn helped us with taking on a few contracts herself. If I had it my way, she would be in the Brotherhood, not leading a rebellion,"

"Thank goodness you're okay," Tal says as she rushes forward and hugs Xaliyah before stepping back and examining the Nord female, "and good, you got the important stuff. Which is a lot," she adds as she helps Xaliyah take the bags off and carries them into her personal tent.

"Thank you, Nazir," Tal says upon returning to the group, "I do believe the Guild owes us a debt since you just saved its leader," she says with a smug smile at Xaliyah, who rolls her eyes at the comment.

Nazir chuckles again and Xaliyah watches as Tal goes a bit stiff at the sound, "you asked me for my help with this mission and I was honored to, Listener," he says with a small bow, "I believe I will soon be discussing my payment with Delvin in the near future," he adds before walking off, "give me the word when you're ready to move out,"

Xaliyah waits until the Redguard is out of sight before smiling at a flushed Tal, "you like him," Xaliyah gushes, enjoying the fact that she can now tease the assassin on her love life. Tal glares at the thief and sighs.

"Do not," she says as she walks back to the camp and begins packing things up, "and besides, I am his boss and he is my second. It would be wrong to commit to such a relationship," she explains with a smug smile at an annoyed Xaliyah.

"Say what you want, but I saw how you reacted around him," Xaliyah replies as she begins helping Tal, "why are we packing up? Why not wait until morning?"

"And give the Thalmor below a chance to find us when they're searching for their missing soldiers? No thank you," Tal says as she begins tying one of the two tents to the back of her painted mare, "if we leave now, under the cover of darkness, we should be halfway to the base when they wake,"

Xaliyah doesn't reply, instead, she focuses on tying the two sacks to Caper's saddle before climbing onto it. She waits for Tal and the two trot out of the forest and onto the main road, where four assassins join them. Xaliyah glances at the newcomers and recognizes Cicero humming to himself and Nazir, who looks ahead of him with a neutral expression on his face. Beside him is a little girl who looks like she should not be an assassin and behind her is a blond Nord.

Xaliyah returns her gaze ahead of her and smiles at the thought of returning to the base and to Brynjolf.

[electronicdelusionstarlight]

And we're back with today's account of my adventures in my barely stable 530+ plugin heavy Skyrim Game.

So, remember that gang of kids with a vampire girl squatting in Dead Man's Drink in Falkreath? Yeah, apparently, they are also part of Glamoril, the (Allegedly) Bloodborne inspired Skyrim Mod.

So, here's the deal with it till now.

We meet a little girl with a very long name, which I will call Lala for short. She is an orphan selling flowers in Falkreath, and her only living family member, Brandt, is a guard. He's being emotionally abusive and neglectful, and demanding she both work for bread and not to get into town, where the other war orphans are.

Anyway, she has a dog, Skoll, which is a small pup really, and we help her get back home where a "monster" is scaring her. Turns out, the monster is Groll, a Witcher III asset of a Troll. She is actually there to protect the kid under Brandt orders, who is actually scaring her away from town not just because he's a dick, but because she's in danger there.

So, last time I left this mod, this was what was going on. Little girl befriends monster in her closet with your help, and you start investigating on what is going on with her and with Falkreath.

Not even the time to start wondering why haven't those kids not been sent to Honourhall if they are such a burden on Falkreath that a Khajiit shows up.

And I am suddenly very, very, very afraid of where this mod is going to go.

So, here's the deal:

The Khajiit is a "Chick Trader." At first I thought it was added by one of the wenches mod for obvious reasons, but apparently nope, he's a Glamoril asset. He comes to town with a wooden cart, one with a large wagon behind, and discusses with Brandt about the "chicks" the Jarl promised him, and how one is missing, before leaving town to Markarth.

As this happens, the orphans in town, even the Vampire, disappear.

They are not outright stating this, but Brandt calls him worse than a slaver, and trying to talk to him will keep it still incredibly vague, so maybe it is a bait and switch scenario where his profession is not the one we think it is...

But GODS if it is...

Anyway, back to the kid. We pick apples together, help her out by giving her a bag of supplies, watch her adopt some strange, wounded animal, and talk with her about her family and future.

She doesn't want to get adopted since she still think her parents are coming back. Her dad is fighting in the civil war, probably under the empire, and her mum was taken away by some guy named Sten and his friends, telling her that she's coming back soon if she keep staying a good girl before being taken away.

So, given the presence of Namira cultists in the area (Among them a pretty high level Ghoul Boss I think I'm not yet ready to face as level 5), and the fact her family home has a pretty extensive alchemy laboratory and library in the parents room, and the fact she claims her mom taught her how to cast spells, I am to assume Lala's mom was a witch, possibly a Cultist to a Prince, and the Vigilants of Stendar (Sten) came to town to be their usual awful selves and kidnapped her for it.

Not sure about her dad.

Anyway, this to say, putting aside the whole "Chick Trader" thing ringing some real loud alarm bells, the parts about helping out this sweet little kid that just keeps befriending monsters and weird creatures (A Witcher III troll, a dog named after a Sun Eating Wolf, a small, fluffy... Thing unsettling to look at yet very cute, a giant snail lord and, arguably, you, the Last Dragonborn) are really good, and instill in you the desire to play house in this really weird family of freaks and protect her with your life.

This to say, I've had this kid with me for barely a day, and if anything were to happen to her I'm going to kill everyone in this mod and then myself.

[thedailyimagines]

Imagine Serana finding you during a full moon.

Anon requested: “May I request a Serana (Skyrim) x Werewolf Male Reader? Reader is perhaps this lone wolf that lives out in the deep forests and knows how to defend himself without constantly having to rely on his form. Reader stumbles across Serana one night and they instantly click and become great friends. When a full moon comes out, reader goes crazy and afterwards is afraid she will judge him but she doesn’t and she slips her feelings for him and they get together, eventually they have a kid and happy life.”

.

This is a long fix.

The reader is NOT the Dragonborn. They are, however, acquainted with the DB.

D/b/n = Dragonborn’s name

~~~~~~~~

It was the sound of y/n’s woodpile falling over and quiet cursing that brought you outside. If he had lived in one of the cities he wouldn’t have bothered looking, but living in the wilderness outside Windhelm had taught y/n to be wary of strangers.

Y/n wasn’t an official resident, he just lived in the shambles of an old hut that had long since been abandoned. Sneaking out the back door (really just a hole in the wall covered by a bear fur), he found a person in a hood and cloak trying to be sneaky. The woodpile was scattered across the ground.

“Who in Shor’s bones are you?” The hooded figure looked up, and instantly y/n could tell what she was.

Vampire, the wolf inside him snarled. Y/n calmed it down and tightened the grip on his sword. The vampire held her hands up in a pacifying manner.

“My name is Serana. I’m looking for a vampire coven and was told that I could find help from a man named y/n.” Not good. Very few people knew y/n’s name, and even less knew his location.

“And who gave you that name?”

“D/b/n. Said they were cashing in on a favor to get you to help me.”

“Asshole.” Y/n sighed and ran a hand through his messy y/h/c locks. “Look, I do owe the soul sucker a favor. If they thought you needed my help, it’s probably serious.”

“It is. This coven stole an extremely powerful artifact from me and I need to get it back. Can you help me?” Y/n weighed the options in his head. On one hand, he could say no and go back to sleep. On the other hand, vampires with powerful magic things usually weren’t good news. A loud sigh escaped his mouth.

“...Fine. But it’s a one time deal, got it?”

“Thank you.” Little did y/n know that meeting Serana would set him on a whirlwind of an adventure, leading to the destruction of his shack and moving to Breezehome at d/b/n’s insistence.

<—>

A red full moon was a rare occurrence. And one that caused y/n much stress. Not because he was superstitious, but because (if legends were true) y/n would lose control of his werewolf and become feral for the night.

Which led him to his current problem: finding a suitable place to hide for the night. Or rather, getting away to find a hiding place.

“Serana, I’m serious. You need to stay here.” Y/n was gathering the last of his supplies he would need for the transformation tonight. Food, a spare set of clothes, his sword and armor, healing potions, and a small pouch of coins.

He wasn’t sure if he needed anything else for a Blood Moon transformation, but he was in a hurry. Y/n could already feel the sharp pains in his abdomen, warning him he would be turning soon. He hadn’t felt them since he was a child, and he certainly didn’t miss them. Maybe they were back because he hadn’t shifted into his werewolf form in almost three months.

“And what if you get hurt? This ‘task’ the Jarl gave you is bullshit.” If only she knew how right she was. There was no mission. It was the best excuse that y/n could come up with to leave Breezehome without Serana.

“Serana. If I felt like I couldn’t handle it, I would being you along. This is just a quick trip out of Whiterun and back. I’ll be home tomorrow.” Home and not a possible danger to you, y/n thought inside his mind. Serana just threw her hands up in frustration.

“You know what? Fine. I’ll stay here while you get your ass kicked. Just remember this when you say I was right.” Serana stormed off to her bedroom in the small home, and y/n set off to find a cave or the like to hide in.

Y/n passed out of the gates of the city, unaware he was followed by more than one set of eyes when he left the safety of Whiterun and traveled into the wilderness beyond.

<—>

“Die damn you!” The silver axe aimed at his head missed by a hair. Y/n rolled to the side and stabbed with his sword, cutting deep into the flesh of the Silver Hand member. Five others surrounded him, all carrying silver weapons and ready to put him down.

A sharp pain coursed through y/n, and he fell to one knee. The Silver Hand who had stabbed him retreated back, their sword bloodied and shining in the torchlight. Shit. Y/n tried to stand but one of the werewolf hunters slammed the hilt of their sword into the back of his head, causing his vision to swim.

Y/n dropped back to the ground and tried to crawl away. A leather boot connected with his ribs, sending y/n tumbling to his side. He was struggling to breath at this point, and the stab wound and his pounding head weren’t helping.

“Shit.” Y/n coughed up blood, out of healing potions and having no skill in Restoration magicks. The leader of the werewolf hunters raised their sword above y/n’s head.

Normally the Silver Hand (or any enemy) wasn’t a problem for y/n. He could avoid them easily enough. Of course, y/n wasn’t usually struggling to contain the beast within. And he usually had a certain vampire companion to watch his back.

Not that she knew he was a werewolf. Just like she wouldn’t know where to find his body. Just like she wouldn’t know y/n loved her.

The thought sent a cold chill down y/n’s spine with a grim realization. He was going to die. He’d die alone in a small dark hole without telling Serana how he felt.

“Time to die, beast!” Y/n closed his eyes and waited for cold silver to separate his head from his neck.

CR-AC-K. The sound of lightning cut through the air life a hot knife through butter. The leader toppled over, the life literally shocked out of him. Y/n spared a glance through his blurry vision, and a small smile appeared on his face.

Serana was terrifying in her fury. She wielded her magic like the master she was, sending the Silver Hand flying with lightning while slashing with the ebony dagger y/n had gifted her.

The fight was over in moments. The Silver Hand might be ready for werewolves, but vampires were a completely different story. All six hunters laid dead upon the floor, Serana surrounded by their corpses. Y/n was relieved that Serana was alright.

The relief quickly left y/n when he realized what Serana has done. She had followed him here with the intention of spying on him. She hadn’t believed y/n’s story for a second. And y/n was going to be turning to his beast form very soon.

“You followed me.” Y/n’s voice broke the silence, pain and a bit of disbelief laced in his voiced. Serana walked over to y/n and helped him to sit up.

“Does it bother you that I’m here?” Serana cupped y/n’s face in her hands, and y/n was grateful for the cool contact against his pounding head.

“No, I—” A sharp pain seized through y/n, and an inhuman growl left his throat. Was he already turning this quickly? “Serana, you need to leave.”

“While you lay here bleeding out? Not a chance.” Another growl escaped y/n, louder than the first. Serana’s face knit together in confusion, but she didn’t leave.

“Serana, go.” The desperation was clear as day in y/n’s voice, but the vampire refused to leave.

“No.”

“I...said...GO!” The last word left y/n’s mouth in a roar, and he was unable to hold the transformation back any longer. A howl ripped through the air and darkness overtook y/n’s vision.

‘I’m sorry, Serana.’

<—>

“...y/n...”

“...get up...guards...”

The y/h/c haired werewolf opened his eyes, the wooden timbers above him unfamiliar. Sitting up slowly, y/n winced as a dull ache ran through his bones. Then everything came rushing back to him.

The Blood Moon. Silver Hand. Transforming. Serana.

Was she okay? Y/n didn’t remember hurting her, but then again he didn’t remember anything from after his transformation last night. Just the sight of the moon hanging low and heavy in the sky like a pool of blood and the wolf side of himself howling at its freedom.

There was the sound of someone moving around in the adjoining room. Could it be...?

“Serana?” Y/n winced at how rough and scratchy his voice was. The sounds from the next room paused.

“Y/n?” The vampire came into the small room, and y/n reached for her. Serana pulled back, anger written on her face.

“You’re a werewolf.” The sharpness of her voice caused y/n to wince.

“...Surprise?”

“Surprise? Really y/n! You lied to me, nearly died, and all you say is surprise?”

“I didn’t think—” Serana cur y/n off before he could continue.

“No, of course you didn’t! I’m a vampire y/n. I’ve lived for well over 4,000 years old! You could have told me you were leaving because of the Blood Moon! I would have understood! Instead I follow you and find you half dead, barely conscious, and then you turn into a werewolf!” Serana threw her hands up in the air, walking over to the window and resting her hands on the sill.

“Do you know how I would have felt if you died? It would have destroyed me. I love you, you hard-headed idiot.” The proclamation was quiet, as if meant only for Serana. Y/n heard it all the same and his heart raced.

“Serana, please. I’m sorry. I didn’t know how you’d react if you knew and I—I never expected you to stay for as long as you did.” Y/n took a deep breath, then stood up and with unsteady steps walked to join Serana by the window. He took her hand in his. “I love you. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to be alone again after meeting you.”

“Y/n, you are possibly the most impossible man I have ever met.” Her hand tightened around his, cold fingers intertwined with his warm ones.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“If you ever pull something like that again I’m going to find you and beat you senseless myself.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

<—>

“So you’re telling me this child asked you to kill an orphanage matron, and you did it?” Serana followed her husband through the winding streets of Windhelm, watching for patches of ice. It had been four years since the events of the Blood Moon, and a few months ago she and y/n had finally gotten married.

“Yes.” Y/n slid on a small patch of ice, but caught himself before he fell.

“And you want to...adopt him?”

“Yes.” A large gust of wind caused the couple to tighten their cloaks about them.

“May I ask why exactly? I know we’ve talked about adopting a child, but...” Y/n turned to face Serana and took her hand.

“Serana, he’s all alone in an abandoned house. He needs somebody to take care of him.”

“Fine. But if he says no then we listen to him. I don’t want him to send the Dark Brotherhood our way.”

“Here we are.” Serana has to admit, the small house above the river was rather dreary. Everything in this city was, but there was something about this house.

Y/n opened the door, quiet as a mouse, and walked up the stairs to the second floor. There was a shivering child curled up in a makeshift bed, and the sight gnawed at Serana’s heart.

“Aventus Aretino.” Y/n’s voice was loud in the cold room. The child shot up like lightning with a knife in his hand, calming down a little when he saw y/n.

“It’s you! But I didn’t contact the Brotherhood...why are you back? And who’s she?” Y/n kept his expression neutral, Serana following suit as the child glanced at her.

“You said you’d go back to Honorhall. It’s been three months since that time.” Aventus fidgeted in his spot, drawing the threadbare blanket closer around his shoulders.

“I know I said I’d go back, but...it doesn’t feel right! I can’t go back. Nobody would want me anyway.” It was now that Serana felt her heart break a little more. She could relate to being alone. All those years in the dark...

“You don’t have to, Aventus.” Serana’s voice held a tenderness that was rare to her. The boy turned to the vampire, confusion on his face.

“Then why are you here?” Y/n took a step forward and knelt down in front of Aventus. The boy seemed paler, and a bit too much on the skinny side for his age.

“This is my wife, Serana. We wanted to ask you—if you were comfortable with it—if you wanted to come with us.” Serana went to stand next to y/n, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to. But we would be happy if you did.”

“You’re—you’re serious?” Y/n smiled and held out a hand to Aventus.

“I swear it on the Night Mother.” Aventus suddenly lunged forward and hugged y/n’s neck tightly. Y/n’s eyes widened in surprise.

“Yes! Yes! When can we go?” Y/n laughed and wrapped his arms around Aventus. The sight warmed Serana’s heart.

“Right now if you like. Here, take my cloak. It’s cold out.” The three departed from the house and left the city, headed back towards the warmer climate of Whiterun.

~~~~~~~~

I don’t own the above gifs, all credits go to the owners.

[lavenderlight]

1, 2, 3, 4, 6, 7, 9, 11, 12, 13, 14, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 29, 31, 33, 34, 35, 36, 39, 40 >:)

Ahdgkhh okay here we go!!!

1: Which TES games have you played?

All 5 main series games, ESO, and Blades!

2: Favorite TES game?

Oblivion........ like the other games have traits I like more, but also cons. Like... if I had to pick a game to just play with only the Unofficial Patch, it’d be that one.

3: When and how you got into TES? I was at a game store with my brother and we saw Oblivion with all these award “amazing game” stickers on it on clearance. So picked it up. I wasn’t impressed right away (remember picking dark elf tho) so put it down. My bro played it and said “omg you have to get out of the tutorial dungeon that sucks but the rest of the game is so good!” So I made a bosmer and did and there rest is history. TES has been a special interest of mine and a big comfort series for a decade now!  4: Favorite race Bosmer! Dunmer are a close second though. Thanks Morrowind. 5: Favorite province Valenwood........... love it............ Cyrodiil too because I’m basic. 6: Favorite character Ahdjgh hard to pick because there are so many! Off the top of my head, Dagoth Ur/Voryn Dagoth, Indoril Nerevar (what a shock, I know), Serana Volkihar, Glarthir, The Adoring Fan (don’t @ me), The Jemane Brothers, Marcurio, really all the characters from ESO’s main quest and the ending side quests who help you 😭😭. 7. Favorite faction

Thieves’ Guild, minus Skyrim’s. Skyrim’s Thieves’ Guild was awful eww.

8: Which province you would like to live in

If the lore and history and stuff weren’t a thing, Summerset because it’s aesthetic and has nice beaches. Realistically, probs Cyrodiil because I’m basic and I like how it’s a melting pot of various races and cultures!

As much as I love Valenwood, wouldn’t be able to handle the Green Pact

9: Which deity/deities would you worship?

Dibella - because I like how she’s the divine for the arts, and actual true love and beauty in the world (feel like she’s the divine most likely to say gay rights and trans rights). That vibes with me.

Makes me sad that both in the games and in the fandom, she’s reduced to “ha ha slutty sex goddess”. 

10: Favorite Divine

Dibella because see above.

11: Favorite Daedric Prince

Oh boy... hajdg I love Daedra (except Molag Bal - eww)!!! So it’s hard to pick. Just rapid fire listing some favs: Sheogorath, Meridia, Azura, Barbas (does he count?), Hircine... 

12: Favorite enemy

Dagoth Ur

13: Favorite dungeon

Hmmm, I feel like I’m forgetting some, but I enjoyed Nocturnal’s trial dungeon in Skyrim because I like sneaking and it was all based on that.

14. You have awakened and you are a Cliff Racer. What do you do?

Hunt and kill anyone who dares to step outside Seyda Neen lol

15: What would you do if you contracted vampirism?

C u r e

16: What would you do if you contracted lycanthropy?

C u r e

17: Are there any characters you have crushes on?

Not rly because I’m ace.

 If so, who?

18: Favorite Great House

The Sixth House. The Tribe Unmourned. The-

Honestly all of them are whack and have... issues. When I played Morrowind, I didn’t join any of them lol. Telvanni is at least entertaining and very out there which makes them cool. So I guess them?

19: Favorite TES music

Ahaha... I sold my soul to Jeremy Soule... I have so so many... :’)

“The Road Most Travelled”, “Peaceful Waters”, “Stilt Sunrise”,  “Auri-El’s Ascension”, “Sunrise of Flutes”, “Harvest Dawn”, “All’s Well” “The Streets of Whiterun”, “Secunda” (this is one of my all time favourite video game songs!), “Sovngarde”, “One They Fear”

Then from ESO which has other composers too: “Northpoint Nocturne”, “Moth, Butterfly, and Torchbug”, and “Grazelands Dawn” (mostly because it’s a remix of “The Road Most Travelled” 🥺)

Oh, and this song from the Morrowind dlc because the remaster of “Nerevar Rising” from 2:54 onward. (which how could I forget “Nerevar Rising”? Ugh it gives me feels! The Oblivion and Skyrim main themes are very near and dear to me too)

Also really enjoyed this song from Clockwork City - captures the melancholy vibe and I like the clock noises in it.

20: In your opinion, what is the scariest thing in TES?

I can’t stand spiders so anytime anything having to do with them shows up... I play with mods that remove them and in ESO,  I have a list of dungeons and places to avoid. If I have to do one, I make someone go with me and kill them for me lol.

The Lighthouse Quest in Skyrim was also mega spooky. As for lore, soul trapping and the Soul Cairn really freaks me out! I can’t bring myself to use soul trapping because it bothers me :( I headcanon that when a soul gem runs out of charge, the soul is freed because it’s the only way I can sleep at nigh leave me alone lol 21: Favorite main quest Morrowind, hands down. I will infodump and discuss that game’s plot forever. 22: Favorite side quest

I really like the Daedric Shrine quests, they’re always fun. Also love the silly little short quests like in Morrowind when you have to help the guy get his pants back, or in ESO where you gotta find the lost dog in Valenwood and pet it.

Oblivion has loads of side quests I loved... the missing dunmer painter, Hackdirt, that quest with the ladies who are killing men, the Floating Bowl quest... the mystery at Chorrol Castle....

23: Most frustrating experience in a TES game

I get mad any time the sneaking mechanics in ESO don’t work like the main games. Because I always play an archer-thief lol.

That one fabricant machine puzzle in Tribunal.... oh man........ I had to look it up.

And also the final boss for Clockwork City was annoying. Don’t go to the Clockwork City!

24: Funniest experience in a TES game

Other than moments intended to be funny, I sometimes laugh whenever I miss a jump and end up dying from fall damage. It’s so ridiculous.

Dagoth Ur’s “What are you doing?!” when you first attack the Heart always gets a chuckle out of me too. He sounds so... upset and disappointed in you? Lol

25: Most badass moment in a TES game

The ending to ESO’s main quest was a rly big power fantasy moment for me.

Also more mundane, but I felt really cool and powerful when I got to the point in Morrowind where I could one shot kill cliff racers lol

26: Saddest experience in a TES game

The ESO side quest, “The Soul-Meld Mage” in Coldharbour. After that one, I had to step away for a bit.... man. It hurt my heart and I still feel so bad. That was a case in the game where I really felt impacted by how cruel and awful Molag Bal is. Like I *knew* but that quest played with my emotions and made it personal.

27: Favorite area/region

Valenwood from ESO. I spend all my time there, and sometimes go to Summerset or Vvardenfell lol.

28: Least favorite character

Vivec.

Also don’t like Maven-Black Briar. :I

29: In-game food item you want to eat the most

Sweetroll! 

Also this one recipe for a beef dish I found in Valenwood sounded good.  Maybe also the Sunrise Souffle mentioned in Skyrim?

30: If you could try skooma, would you?

No. Don’t do drugs, kids.

31: If you had the skills and resources to do a perfect cosplay of any TES character who would it be?

Probs Serana

32: Have you read any of the novels?

No, but I’ve been thinking about it!

33: Favorite class to play

Thief, or a thief-similar class like agent or rogue.

34: Which type of magic would you most like using?

Alteration seems the most useful for everyday life lol. But illusion would be fun.

35: Favorite weapon

I use bows all the time!

36: Favorite spell

Levitate from Morrowind - it’s so much fun to use!

37: Favorite artifact

Nerevar’s Moon-And-Star Ring. It’s cute lol and I like the lore behind it!

Also enjoy the Wabbajack because of how silly it is, and Dibella’s Brush of Truepaint.

38: You have awakened to find you’re in Tamriel. How do you react?

Because yeah I love TES but also the world of it is scary with gods and monsters constantly trying to kill you lol

39: Thoughts on ESO so far

I really enjoy the world and writing! But I’m still cranky over some moments where it’s an MMO and not a normal TES game :I

I also hate that we can’t have NPC companions.  You really gonna give me a clockwork nix-hound named Snuffler and not let me travel with him? For shame.

40: Character you’d most like to hang out with

Nerevar, because I’m very awkward and shy and bad at peopleing and I would hope he could teach me how to improve lol.

But to actually hang out and chill, Marcurio would be pretty fun lol

[yukiwrites]

Twin Proposal

@spacesmilodon I CAN’T STOP GRINNING AKSJDLMASD

Summary: Vilkas and Farkas. Although they were twins, their personalities couldn’t be more different, down to the way how they expressed their affection to the ones they loved. Beffudled by Farkas’ spontaneous proposal, Vilkas feels even more pressured to ask for the Dragonborn’s hand...

Commission info HERE and HERE!

______________________________

Vilkas had always thought of himself as a man of unshakable will. He had stood against all sorts of creatures during his life as a warrior -- as a Companion. He felled giants with the same breath as he did the most cunning of vampires; he delved deep into Skyrim's oldest tombs only to emerge victorious, no matter what perils lurked within.

He prided himself in having a steady heartbeat and a cold eye to discern any and each situation he'd find himself in; no matter the challenge, he would stand tall and overcome it.

Yes, no matter the challenge.

Vilkas took a deep, shaky breath. Why was it that after an entire life of putting his life on the line, he felt his very own soul tremble upon the eyes of a simple khajiit merchant?! Don't you dare tremble; do not tremble you fool of a hand, he yelled at his own body as he reached for his coin purse.

The feline merchant smiled widely, her crooked teeth glistering in the sunset, making her distorted face even harder for Vilkas to ignore. "This one does not understand how you people of Skyrim court each other," she let out a hoarse laugh, though it only sounded like a snarl, as she slowly picked up the amulet Vilkas had chosen previously. "But it brings Ahkari profit, so Ahkari will keep selling."

"..." Vilkas simply scowled, using every ounce of pride he had in his body not to tremble, blush, or run away screaming as he exchanged the money for the Amulet of Mara.

"May your journeys lead you to warm sands," she nodded as she counted the money, licking her lips as she whispered, "or warm sheets," under her breath.

"... Thank you," missing the last bit of Ahkari's speech, Vilkas managed to regain part of his dignity as a person as quick as he shoved the Amulet of Mara into his item pouch. His shoulders lighter than a few moments previous, he finally managed to breathe out only to realize he had been holding his breath for the entire duration of the negotiation.

However, that feeling of relief was only temporary. Having the amulet in his possession was only the pre-requisite for the first step of a proposal, after all.

It wasn't as though he was devoid of a plan, no. Quite the opposite, in fact: he had drafted so many different situations which he could propose, his mind was flooded with dozens of scenarios and ideas. The Dragonborn was a woman worth all and any trouble -- one he would gladly fight alongside with until his heart beat the last -- so doing as much was only natural, if it meant to be with her for the rest of their days.

The problem lay on Vilkas, as expected. He simply did not know how he could give this massive step towards the change in their relationship! They were shield-siblings first and foremost, and although there was no rule forbidding romantic intercourse between Companions, the Dragonborn was so much more than that for Vilkas. She was a principled woman, bearer of one too many regrets in her life, just as Vilkas himself. They got along as kin, their shared worries and curses bringing them closer than any other shield-siblings have ever been. They shared a deep bond of friendship, trust and -- Vilkas wished most fervently for that to be true -- mutual love.

He could see in her eyes and subtle actions that they were of one mind in this regard -- it was but a question of who would give the first step to finally put a name to their more-than-shield-siblings relationship. And Vilkas wanted to be the one to do it.

But by the gods how hard it was!

He couldn't simply walk up to her, shove the amulet on her face and tell her they should marry! There had to be a proper place, a proper setting, a proper mood and a proper way to deliver his words. Everything had to come out in a satisfying way, otherwise it would be all for naught.

Absent-minded, Vilkas barely realized that he had not only returned to Jorrvaskr, but also sat beside his brother by the dining table, downing one of the fifteen mead bottles that were sprawled in front of Farkas.

Vilkas raised one eyebrow, blinking back into reality. "Fifteen-?" He heard his voice grumble, looking to his right to his brother. "Farkas, what is the meaning of this?"

The younger twin gurgled down his tenth bottle, slamming it on the table. "I just gotta." He replied in a weirdly serious tone. Since he was at the corner of the table, he needed but reach out to touch Rannah, a dark skinned altmer who had joined the ranks of the Companions a few months after the Dragonborn did. She and Aela conversed merrily, sharing their knowledge of hunting to any and all that would be unlucky enough to give them an ear to do so.

Narrowing his eyes, Vilkas observed his brother gaze longingly at the high elf -- it was no secret to the older twin that Farkas had been smitten with Rannah for a while. Smirking, Vilkas closed his eyes as he took a large sip of his mead, finding a sad solace in the fact that both brothers were suffering with love.

"Hey, Rannah," Farkas nudged the altmer's shoulder with one hand, pulling something out of his item pouch with the other.

Rannah turned to Farkas still wearing the smile she was sharing with Aela. "Yeah-oh?" She barely had time to react as Farkas put something around her neck.

An Amulet of Mara!

Vilkas choked.

"We get along well and I like that -- I like you. Wanna get married?" Farkas blurted everything out at once, sitting back after placing the amulet on Rannah.

Aela spat her half-chewed meat on Ria's face, who was sitting across her. The Dragonborn let out a soft gasp, covering her face with both hands.

"FUCK yes." Rannah didn't allow the silence to settle in, replying immediately. She climbed on the table to get to Farkas' lap, sitting on top of him and wrapping both arms around his neck.

"Let's not waste any time," Farkas snorted as he opened his mouth for the hungry kiss Rannah placed on him, his hands securely holding her behind so she wouldn't fall.

"Get a room, you two!" Aela guffawed, throwing an apple on Rannah's head. The fruit hit with a loud bonk, but it wasn’t enough to pluck the altmer's lips from Farkas'.

Coughing, Vilkas could very well be dead right there and then. He sputtered, the now happy (?!) couple blatantly making out inches from where he sat. Embarrassed and mortified, Vilkas looked from them to the cheering crowd the dining table had become, locking eyes with the Dragonborn, who also numbered amongst those who clapped and whistled.

Though when their eyes met, she, too, glanced at the couple before looking back at Vilkas, a smile sprouting on her lips as her cheeks reddened.

A thousand different thoughts sprouted in his mind as consequence to the Dragonborn's adorable reaction. Widening his eyes, the older twin felt the weight of the Amulet of Mara by his own belt, his breathing somehow distorting itself.

"We don't need to wait for the ceremony to consummate our vows, do we?" Rannah huffed in between the kisses she and Farkas shared, licking his lips lavisciously.

"Nah," Farkas gurgled a laugh as he lifted Rannah with both hands, taking her in his arms.

Any bubbling in Vilkas' chest was absolutely crushed with all that public display of affection. He groaned loudly. "Go to your room, for pity's sake! We don't need a display of- of THIS in the middle of dinner." He shoved Farkas's shoulder just as the younger twin was shuffling himself in his feet, intent on doing just that.

"No need to tell me twice, brother." Farkas smirked widely as Rannah barely allowed his mouth to be freed of hers.

"Don't let us see your ugly mugs 'till morning, you hear?!" Aela whistled, throwing another apple just for the sake of it, snorting loudly when Rannah caught it just as it was about to hit Farkas' head.

The two of them disappeared under the stairs leading to the dorms, under no shortage of cheering and booing.

"Ugh..." Vilkas dragged both hands across his face, suddenly a hundred times more exhausted than a few minutes ago. "I apologize for this crude display my brother just did." He could barely look into his shield-siblings' eyes, the shame so great he could only see them as blurs lest he self-combusted.

"Are you kidding? This was the funniest thing I've seen in my life." Aela snorted as she downed her mead. "Let us make a toast! For the happy couple." She raised her half-empty mug, being followed by every other hand that had been clapping previously. "Cheers." She said in a mocking tone, locking eyes with Vilkas. "I don't think you should go back to your room any time soon, Brother. Unless you want to find out exactly how they're going to 'consummate' their vows, ha!"

"Ughhh..." Vilkas once again threw his head back in disgust, groaning loudly. "No need to remind me of that, Aela." He got on his feet, taking the bottle he had been drinking from. "I'll be outside."

Walking at slow steps, Vilkas sat beside the shooting targets to force himself to meditate, or at least to take his mind off of the entire mess his own brother had made for Vilkas' marriage plans.

Farkas wasn't the one to blame, of course, but Vilkas had to blame something! Ugh, he felt terrible.

A familiar set of muffled steps followed Vilkas' path towards the targets, quietly sitting beside him as she engulfed the air with her lovely smell.

The Dragonborn. Vilkas pursed his lips, forcing himself now more than ever to keep his eyes closed.

She sipped her mead, the heat of her body warming his side even though they weren't even touching each other. Vilkas sighed deeply, his entire body deflating.

Taking that as her cue, the Dragonborn bobbed her head to the sides. "That was something I'll never forget."

Vilkas growled a bit inside, as though he still had the blood of a wolf in his veins. The Dragonborn found that endearing each time it happened, though she'd never mention it to him. "I did not know I could be amazed with Farkas after so many years, yet here I am." He groaned. "Don't worry, I'd never do such shameful display."

"Oh-ho?" The Dragonborn snorted, nudging his shoulder with hers. "Why are you assuring me of that, specifically?"

Vilkas cleared his throat, the embarrassment making him finally snap his eyes open. "N-no reason in particular; I am simply setting myself apart from my brother."

"Uh-huh..." The Dragonborn sneakily rested her head on Vilkas' shoulder, leaning her weight on him. "I’m well aware of that, though."

"Good." Vilkas relaxed his position, though not to the point of leaning on her -- they still weren't wed, after all! "... good." He said with a smile in his voice, which made the Dragonborn chuckle as well.

The next morning, barely one hour before dawn, Vilkas went back to his quarters after spending the night simply idle talking with the Dragonborn, appreciating the beauty of the moon, the stars and her fiery hair bathed in their light.

He had to ask her! As soon as possible! He could barely contain his own desire of simply embracing her within his arms and allowing her scent to take all of him!

"Farkas," Vilkas knocked on his brother's door. "Surely you are awake by now, come out." He called, though in a small voice for he didn't want to wake Rannah up.

A surprised 'oh,' a shuffling of bed sheets and a tumbling later, Farkas opened the door wearing nothing but the Amulet of Mara he had given Rannah the day before. "What?"

Vilkas cursed under his breath, looking up and away from his brother's jewels. "For- for the gods' sake, put something on!" 

"Oh, wait a second." Farkas gasped and laughed at his own nudity, not realizing it until Vilkas pointed out. "I'm sure I left my pants around here..." He whispered as he left the door ajar to look. "You don't wanna come in- oh wait, nah, I better go out;" he mused for half a second as he put on a random pair of trousers he found lying on a chair. "She's still nake-"

Vilkas groaned for the thousandth time that week, dragging himself to his room. "Come here instead, Farkas, lest I lose my mind."

Tilting his head to the side, Farkas followed after closing the door to his own room behind him. He sat on a chair beside Vilkas' door, helping himself to a day-old mead that had been left there by the older twin before he went to the khajiit caravan.

Vilkas sat heavily on the bed, visibly tired, though hardly due to lack of sleep. "Think of your health, brother. Don't drink this early in the morning."

Farkas was midway to downing the mead entirely, guiltily looking at Vilkas after placing the empty bottle back on the table. "I needed to recharge after last night-" he started, smirking.

"Yes, yes -- this is precisely why I called. How could you- how did you even do such an important thing as proposing so- like that?! Without even thinking things through? What about her feelings from being proposed to at such a public place-"

Farkas leaned on the backrest, sprawling himself with a confused frown. "I'm not really good at thinking ahead like this. I just followed my feelings -- I bought the amulet, drank a bit to be better at wording and asked her."

Vilkas facepalmed with both hands, digging his fingers on his own flesh. "What if she had refused you, then? Everyone would-"

"I'd drink more and move on." Farkas shrugged. "I'm happy she said yes, though; I think I'd need to drink every day for the rest of my life to be able to move on if she had said no."

"How can you accept this so readily-" Vilkas clutched his own chest as though directing the questions to himself. "There has to have a better way for these things."

"I'm married now, aren't I?" Farkas smiled widely, making Vilkas' shoulders sag. His little brother was so happy! Even though things happened so... crudely, it all fit him and his wife perfectly. "We're gonna get ready to go to Riften later, so I guess we won't be seeing each other in a month or two, brother."

"Oh," Vilkas blinked in surprise. "Do you not want me to go along for the ceremony? I feel that I should witness it, as your brother..."

"Nah," Farkas got up, the very air around him a bit lighter. "We wanna get to... know each other during the trip, like Rannah said." He laughed, forcing Vilkas to groan once again.

"Very well, then, little brother." The older twin got up, patting the younger on the back. "May your marriage be blessed by Mara and the Divines. Congratulations."

"Thanks." Farkas patted Vilkas' hand on his shoulder before retreating back to his own room, leaving Vilkas alone with his thoughts.

"Just follow your feelings, huh..." The older twin digested the words for a bit, his eyes looking around the room as though looking for clues. He saw the key to Whiterun's guard tower and something clicked on him. "That's it...!"

Vilkas busied himself during the day by going in and out of the guard barracks -- making a deal or another to be able to use the southern guard tower unhindered for one night; then making a trip or two to the market in search of high-quality ingredients for dinner and the best wine he could find for sale at the khajiit caravan.

Everything was going to be perfect and he was following his heart! Two birds with one stone!

The Dragonborn raised one eyebrow once Vilkas called her to help him with a guard shift at the tower, wondering -- with a smirk -- why he sounded so happy about a random watch duty like that.

Night had covered Skyrim like a cold blanket, forcing the two of them to wear their thick cloaks as they went up the stairs in silence, the only sound between them one of the crackling fire from the torch Vilkas carried.

Feeling his heart rising up to his throat, Vilkas gulped as they reached the uppermost room -- the one with the best view of the city as well as of the aurora in the sky -- nervously opening the door to reveal the carefully arranged dinner table for two.

The former thief pressed her lips into a thin line to hide her smirk so she could play dumb. "Vilkas?" She sat on the chair he had pulled for her, biting her lower lip in anticipation.

"I- cannot say I was inspired by my brother since I had this in my possession since yesterday morning-" He tried to pull something from his item pouch, but it got stuck just as he was taking the knee.

"’This’?" The Dragonborn tilted her head to the side, almost giving into the urge to laugh.

Vilkas cursed under his breath, pulling the amulet with a little too much force, his heart beating so fast he was barely thinking straight -- if his plan didn't go exactly as he had devised, he had nothing! What was he going to say next? Where is this thing stuck on, anyway? He had already KNELT! He just needed to pull a bit-

A thin snapping sound filled the air, followed by dozens of beads rolling around the floor. "The amulet-" Vilkas froze, watching the Amulet of Mara roll around in all directions, his hands helplessly trying to keep it all in one place.

"Pffft! Hahaha!" The Dragonborn snorted loudly, dissolving into laughter. "Oh no, this is so cute! I'm- ahaha! Pffbht... I-I'm-"

"D-don't laugh!" Vilkas hissed pitifully, using all of his concentration to look for the missing beads. The Dragonborn knelt in front of him, gathering as many beads as she could, her laughter never stopping.

"I-I'm sorry, b-but this is so- so adorable! Hrrk! Pffft!" She snorted, found the sound funny and went back to laughing, placing some beads in Vilkas' pitiful, open hand.

"What a disaster..." The older twin's back slumped on itself, the amulet now an amalgamation of random tiny objects. Before he could even wallow in self-pity, the Dragonborn placed her hand over his, covering the amulet.

Sniffling from laughing so much, she pressed her forehead on his. "Is it, really? I think this couldn't have been a better proposal." She looked at him with a genuine smile, dissolving his frown. "And my answer is yes! We don't need an amulet to get married, anyway; it's what it represents that matters." She clutched her hand in his, some beads escaping through their hold. "And I can feel it all, from the lame excuse to get to this secluded location to how you nervously have been trying to come up with ideas for the past few weeks."

Vilkas widened his eyes in surprise, but then exhaled in resignation. "So it was that obvious."

"A little," she giggled, kissing his cheek. "Won't you ask me properly even though I already gave my answer?"

"Of course," Vilkas put whatever was left of the amulet back in his pouch so he could pull her to him, finally able to let their bodies share the same warmth. "Will you marry me, my- my love? I've been waiting to ask for so long."

"Mhm," she nudged her nose on his, closing her eyes to feel his breath on her lips. "I will, my wolf. I love you." She nipped at his lower lip, enticing him to initiate the kiss, which he did with pleasure.

“I love you as well, my love.” Vilkas felt his entire body relaxing as their tongues acquainted themselves, her taste so much better than he had ever imagined! Ahh, to have her inside his arms, at last!

It was worth the humiliation. It was worth the wait.

Now that he had her in his arms like this, he knew that he would do it all over again if only it meant to kiss her again, again and again until dawn broke.

They would still actually need to do their guard duty since that was what Vilkas had promised the chief guard, but he could mention it to her a bit later. Just one more kiss...

[obsidian-dovahkiin]

Until death do you part

What a glorious day it was. The sun casting its warm rays onto the magical land below it. There were a few clouds dotting the sky, and birds flew on by. Obsidian felt the soft sand she was lying on. It was warm and almost felt like silk. The crashing of the waves lapping on the shore filled the air. It was so peaceful.

Obsidian's experience of Summerset so far had been wonderous. The customs, the traditions, the people; they all intrigued her. Summerset had been a place she always wanted to travel to. All those years protecting Skyrim, she deserved a break. The past few days had mainly been exploring Shimmerine. However, that day was when she was going to visit Alinor, the capital of Summerset. She'd longed to explore the confusing and winding streets, taking in the scenery. Ever since she was a small child, she wanted to visit Summerset. Her parents believed it was some kind of obsession. She believed it was destiny.

Obsidian didn't travel alone on this adventure, however. The light snores coming from her husband Hefdet and her wife Serana's content sighing as she watched the ocean. It had been a rather spontaneous trip, but so far, it was definitely worth it. Hefdet had disguised himself as a Dunmer, and Serana made herself look less vampiric.

Obsidian yawned as she sat up, gently stirring Hefdet.

'Wakey, wakey. We're going to Alinor today and I want to spend as much time there as possible,' she told him, helping him stand up.

'Alright then. Let's be off,' he yawned, packing his sword he placed on the sand next to him.

Obsidian was so excited as they walked down the sandstone paths, sometimes taking shortcuts through the beautiful forest areas. They encountered various characters on their travels: merchants, wizards, scholars, musicians, dancers, travellers and many more. They occasionally stopped by rivers and waterfalls to have a rest and truly take it all in.

Then there it was. After what seemed like hours of walking, they'd finally arrived. The city itself was built onto large mountains, the towers of the city piercing the sky with their height. Every building was made of a lovely white stone, reflecting the nature of the Altmer. Many bustled about them. Initially, it was merchants and vendors but as they waded through the crowds, it eventually turned into the higher class denizens of the city. The views were breathtaking. It seemed as if anywhere you looked, there was something beautiful you could gaze at for hours.

As Obsidian had predicted, they continued to get lost in the winding streets. However, Obsidian didn't mind. It gave them more time to look out at the city and the incredible views it gave them. After wandering for a while, they came across a very large house. For some reason, it was as if she'd seen it before.

'Obsidian? Are you alright? You've gone as white as a sheet,' Serana asked, concerned for her.

'Yeah I'm fine it's just...it's as if I've been here before,' she explained, stuttering a little.

She couldn't place it but it was really as if she'd been in the house before. It was as if it meant something to her.

An Altmer was stood by, observing the scene. He stood back at first but noticed how Obsidian's expression changed as she looked upon the house.

'It's wonderous, isn't it? Stood here for almost three thousand years now. Although no one's been inside for at least two thousand.'

Obsidian broke out of her little daze to talk to the man properly.

'Sorry, it's just so beautiful. If it's not too much trouble, do you know anything about the history of this house? It's so facisnating,' she explained.

'Of course, it's not any trouble,' he smiled.

'Well, this house used to belong to a pair of star-crossed lovers. Two of the greatest warriors the world has ever known. They did Summerset a very large service by saving the Crystal Tower and I've heard they helped in Morrowind too. It's a sad end for both of them,' he told her, his voice lowering a little.

'What happened?'

'Well they were discovered inside the house, both covered in blood. No one's really sure what happened, but it's almost as if they were assassinated and then made to look as if they killed themselves. Back then, mixed-race couples were highly frowned upon. She was an Ashlander while he was the son of the royal adviser. You can see the obvious divide. It didn't help that his father didn't approve of their relationship.  I met both of them once. I was only around 13, but their love for each other was so strong, it's almost like it followed them,' he sighed.

'Despite the house being out of bounds, the garden isn't. Their tomb resides in there. If you'd like to, you can go and visit. Many people still go and pray as they did save Tamriel many times.'

'I think I'd like that. Thank you for telling me. It sounds as if they were amazing people,' she smiled at him.

The three followed him into the garden, while more feeling of familiarity struck her. It was only when she reached the tomb she realised something was off.

'Aranaga Gaeus and...Obsidian Dovahkiin?' She asked a little shook.

Serana and Hefdet looked confused and went to look at the engraving.

'That's them. The star-crossed lovers of Summerset as they are known.'

Obsidian didn't know how to react. How was her name on the engraving? Did someone else happen to pick the same name as her?

'This might seem rude, but is it okay if you leave us?'

'That's fine. Many are overcome with emotion when they first visit here. If you need anything else, I'll be waiting where I was before,' he told them before leaving the large garden.

'I-I don't understand. How?' Hefdet asked.

'I don't either. Serana do you still have the black book? I need to ask Mora.'

Serana silently handed her the book, looking upset and confused. Obsidian made sure she was hidden behind the tomb when she opened the book. She felt the familiar atmosphere of Apocrypha call to her. She accepted the call and opened her eyes to the bright green skies and endless stacks of books.

'Master? I-,' she started.

'I know what's just happened. Don't waste your energy. The one thing I need to ask is do you want to know? This knowledge may cost you a lot.'

'Yes! Of course, I want to know!' She exclaimed, not really thinking her answer through.

'Alright then...well. I'll send you back. Then you'll be able to understand. Goodbye for now,' he dismissed her.

'Master, wait!' She cried as she wasn't finished speaking to him yet. He ignored her and sent her back, her vision fading to black.

'Excuse me? Are you okay?' An unfamiliar voice called out to her. She could feel the soft sand beneath her and the sound of the waves again.

Perhaps it was a dream?

She struggled to open her eyes, but once she did, she was met with the sight of a tall Altmer, almost towering over her.

'Y-yes thank you. I simply fell asleep.'

'Are you here alone? It's not safe for an outlander to be by yourself.'

'No my partners are-' she started looking around to find Hefdet and Serana missing. There was no sign of any life except where she lay.

'My partners must have gone on without me,' she sighed.

'Well make sure you take care of yourself,' he smiled before getting back on his horse and riding away.

What did he mean by not safe? She wondered. Obsidian stood up, stretching as she did so. She wondered where they had gone. She decided to look back in Shimmerine for them. As she walked through the streets, she noticed the obvious change in attitude. Nobles whispered and giggled to each other as she walked by, people obviously avoiding her. Odd. She thought about the mysterious man and his message. Perhaps, it had all been a dream. But where could Hefdet and Serana be?

While she was in thought, an Altmer child tugged on her armour.

'Excuse me Miss, but were you just speaking to Warlockin?' A small boy asked her.

'I'm afraid I don't know who that it sweetheart,' she replied turning to look at him.

'The man in the shiny armour who was on the beach.'

'Oh yes, I did. he was just asking if I was okay. Is he important to you?'

'Of course! He's my hero. He just came back from stopping the Planemeld!' The boy exclaimed.

'The Planemeld?' She asked in shock.

'This sounds like an odd question, but what year is it? I can't remember much.'

'It's 2E 583 of course! Well, thank you, Miss!'

Obsidian was struck into silence. Surely she couldn't have gone back in time. Such a thing was impossible.

'Master please,' she muttered under her breath. 'I don't know what you've done but I don't like it.'

She left the city and went back outside, onto the beach. It took her a while to get to terms with her new reality. She cried for hours onto the soft sand. Her partners, her children, all of it was gone. Gone in the space of a few minutes. She was unwanted and unloved, with no one to look out for her, but herself.

She miserably got up, regained her strength and aimlessly walked on, pretending as if nothing had happened. Her new life would be very odd and extreme, but she'd have to get used to it. As Mora said, it would cost her. She saw what he meant.

[fyrapartnersearch]

Lookin' for lady RPers!

Hello! I’m Rensin, and I’m lookin’ for people to RP with. You can call me Rick, Rensin—by one of my character’s names if you would rather, anything at all really! As long as it’s somewhat nice.

I live in the central timezone, but I’m around quite a bit thanks to my phone, so time doesn’t have too much of a restraint on me unless we are talking about the other side of the world here, in which case I do have to sleep sometime. However, soon… unfortunately, I’ll be looking for new employment due to company changes, so I’ll have some more spare time on my hands.

Now! To the nitty gritty. What I’m looking for. I’m looking for OC RP, though I do like RPing in established universes like Skyrim, GTA locations… anywhere at all really, and I usually like to RP completely original type of things.

I only like to do MxF with me as the male (Though I will say I’m comfortable with playing female chars in a FxF scenario), and I do prefer to RP along with women, though really your gender is no concern to me in the long run. I do however like to get friendly with the people I rp with OOC, so having a nice chat here and there and maybe getting to know my partner in crime is always fun too. If you just want straight RP and have no desire in socializing, I might not be for you!

I do have a tendency to be a bit of a flirt OOC as well—if that makes you uncomfortable it’s fine with me as we all come from different walks, but set that line for me—I’ll likely ask you right away on our boundaries to be set when we interact at first. I prefer to RP with single females (If you’re married/seeing someone that’s fine! Just if it gets awkward for me I might bow out, but I’m all ‘bout discussion! Same goes for you, I prefer someone that’s able to talk to me rather than outright ditching) as it’s more of a comfort factor for me.

What I have in mind are things like this:

Space adventure: First one would be a “Space adventure” of sorts. We go into space, we explore… we get into trouble. My char would have a ship, and we’d both work on said ship doing smuggling, mercenary runs… all those sorts of things.

Steampunk Airship: This one is one I’ve worked on for a while. Basically, my char and a lot of others have an airship that’s designed to be fast, and deliver time sensitive and important mail. This one to me is fun because it’s sort of a… well, I guess you could call it steampunk. Airships, odd steam-based technology… war, strife, intrigue. It’s basically set in a world that has been literally torn apart by war for thousands of years.

Contact me for more detail on that one!

Zombie/Apocolypse/Mad Max-like/Dystopian: I lump these all together because these have always been hit or miss for me. I’ve had RP partners that would RP stuff out in these settings, then immediately leave like a day after. Not saying I’m bad at them, just saying that I don’t think it’s my best stuff—not that I don’t have fun doing them.

Modern Fantasy: This goes in the vein of WhiteWolf world of darkness stuff, or even Shadowrun. Modern setting with Werewolves, Vampires, Angels, Demons… what have you. Or elves, orcs, dwarves? I’ll do it. Sounds like fun, set me up. I can come up with some ideas.

Crime/Mercenary Group/Smugglers: I mentioned Grand Theft Auto—and this would sort of be like that. Or that crappy APB game.

So, there’s an idea I’ve been playing with for over ten years. Basically it’s a group that can be either criminals, or mercenaries… and this group wants to control a strife ridden city. Through either physical force, or money—both ways are acceptable to them. They are hard as nails type of people, that love to fight and fornicate.

Along with that of course comes territory wars, disputes with officials of said city, and lots and lots of collateral damage.

Dark Science Fiction/Cyber Punk: I love settings like the older Shadowrun, or movies like Bladerunner and The Fifth Element. Gritty scenery mixed with technology and a world rife with problems. Detectives that have seen too much shit and want to move on up in the world, even if that means getting a higher level apartment in the giant glass monolithic towers that pollute the cities.

In that sorta scenario we can collaborate and come up with something. I love playing a grizzled detective that’s had a bad past with the local police department, or some sort of bounty hunter.

Farm/Harvest Moon-like: Okay, so—I love Harvest Moon, I love Stardew Valley, and I love the Rune Factory games. I would love to RP something that’s a little slice-of-life like game where I have a char that owns a farm, and is trying to get to know people through a series of events. He could also be an aspiring dungeon delver—really the setting could go anywere. This one can be fleshed out more as we talk.

Xcom/Earth Defence/Alien Hunters: I think it’d be fun to have an RP where we have some characters (either a couple or a group) that hunt aliens to defend or even take back the Earth. A tight-knit group/couple that use high tech weapons, armor, and other means to take the fight to the nasties that threaten the world.

The group gets close, and well… if unfortunate things happen, it could be some real sad stuff to see them go defending not only their home, but the ones they love.

Slice of Life: This one is broad. Very broad. Young friends finally seeking romance between each other, or a writer gets to know his neighbor better. Usually I like these ones to be a little smut-heavy to make up for the drama, but it’s always up for discussion how we can spice it up. Story is always up for debate too.

A group goes to "Another Universe": Basically, a group of people from our very normal world go into another universe, where they find they are stronger, have special abilities, and are trying to stop that world from flowing over into ours. Can be dark, and gritty... the other space can be unforgiving and full of dangerous monsters. I kinda took inspiration for this one from anime, various movies, and various videogames.

I like the idea of a group of people hiding this while figuring out the best way to live their lives, hiding this huge secret that there's a whole other dangerous universe, and no one even knows they are saving the world by going there and stopping the evil creatures in it.

That’s all fine and nice Rensin, but tell us about you.

Okay! Great. So, I’m a 32 year old man, who is looking for someone that’s 18+ to RP with. I need to know your age, so please inform me before adding me. To me that’s just nice to know, because I intend to get into some heavy subjects.

Which brings me to this. Smut? Violence? Yes. I do both. When it comes to it, I love having these things in my RP. Story and good dialogue is a must, as well as humor—but so are adult themes like sex and horrors of life. I will likely ask you what kinks you have, and how we can incorporate them into RP. I don’t again want RP that’s centered only around sex, but I do want to discuss how it will go down when we have it go that way.

I don’t have many limits. As long as it’s not pooing or peeing it’s all kinda whatever to me. I could even say that when it comes to the idea of “Dom vs. Sub” that I’d be more inclined to play a dom. I’ve done sub and it just feels… awkward to me, mostly because I want to come out on top? No pun intended.

I’ll run down more things I want with sexuality in RP as I don’t want to turn this into something not so safe for people to view—and I’ll ask you the same!

And what do you play over?

Discord! E-mail is too slow and bothersome for me, and I don’t bother with facebook/tumblr too much (Yeah I know, I’m putting an add up here.), so I do Discord.

My discord is Rensin#6700. You’ll know it’s me ‘cause I’m the picture of the lime (I go by Irish Lemon on some servers and I thought it was clever0. Depending on if you see this later on, it may change.

Let me know what you want to do, your age, comfort levels, if you’re fine with OOC discussion and topics to avoid; and maybe even a little about yourself. :) Chatting a little before, getting to know you is great! I love people, and I consider myself friendly!

I look forward to hearing from my fellow nerds, so see you there!

[princeofwishes]

patience

In the Void, patience is a virtue. There is nothing, absolutely nothing, waiting for you aside from your siblings in Sithis. You instead must wait for them. Husbands wait for their assassin-wives, brothers for their sisters, Speakers for their Silencers. Sithis is waiting, in his vast cold, empty void. Yet the Dread Father, unlike many, is not left waiting for his beloved. The Night Mother has long since joined her husband and their children... it’s a feeling many souls would kill for.

Lucien Lachance does not consider himself a particularly impatient soul. He’s waited long enough to join his Dread Father; he can wait for his silencer to join him. Orpheus, his darling friend, has hopefully many years left in him before joining them in the void, but in their line of work, anything can happen. However, he’s fairly certain that his silencer will be along presently. Until that moment, he has time. There is nothing but time in the Void.

One century passes and Lucien hears from his family members that Orpheus Clytemnestra is the best they’ve ever seen. He’s still relatively young by elven standards, so his reflexes remain sharp as the blade of woe. They say that the bosmer-imperial still uses Lucien’s dagger to cement his kills. Lucien has never been more pleased. His ever-loyal silencer, killing in his name... Wait a moment. In his name? That’s not possible; his brother killed in the name of Sithis, as did they all. What makes him so special, that Lucien Lachance deserves to be honoured above Sithis? Impure thoughts like these are treasonous. Best not to dwell on his living brothers any longer. Old feelings might just die hard.

Two centuries go by and Lucien watches in horror as the remnants of the Dark Brotherhood flood the void. He is, of course, elated to see his family once more, but the circumstances they report put him in a foul mood. Arquen reports that Cheydinhal has been annihilated, and that she’s certain no one left the sanctuary alive... except for their listener. He isn’t sure if he likes what that means, both for their family and for whatever poor sibling escaped the disaster. Three others accompany her as well; Lucien cares little for meeting any of them. He’s not ashamed to admit that he’s hoping his beloved silencer has finally joined him. They didn’t exactly part on pleasant terms, and he has missed the other man at his side. More importantly, he needs to make right their final argument. And after two centuries in the void, he’s certain that he’s had enough time to plan a proper apology. Unfortunately, he is shaken from his hopes by Arquen. She places a hand on his shoulder and murmurs that he shouldn’t look too hard for their brother. Orpheus is their listener; he was not at home when the attack happened. Well. Isn’t that something? Orpheus is the new listener; he’s never been more proud to call the man brother. However... he’s concerned about the timeline. Orpheus is a hybrid- they live for a longer time, yes, but not much beyond that. And the man had never been skilled with magic... was he corrupted? Lucien growled in his throat. If Vincente got to his precious silencer before Lucien ordered his murder, there would be hell to pay.

Three centuries pass and Lucien Lachance still has yet to see his silencer-turned-listener. His brothers and sisters in the Void trickle in slowly, as the last stragglers are systematically murdered. He watches the final sanctuary in Falkreath turn against the old ways, only to be jerked back by the newest Listener, an imperial woman by the name of Anabiel Darkblood. And when she comes of rank, he is her spectral assassin, her ghostly blade to strike fear into all of Skyrim. It is through her that Lucien sees the light of day once more. The world is every bit as calloused as he remembers it to be, with the minor exception of the sheer lack of oblivion gates dotting the landscape. Instead, he fights massive dragons alongside his new listener and watched her shape their family into something to be feared. When he returns to the void, he feels hollow inside. There is no one truly waiting for his return; Anabiel is the closest thing he’s had to a friend in decades.

She listens to him, Anabiel, and does her best to learn from his mistakes. He tells her of Mathieu Bellamont and his purifications. He tells her of watching his family in Cyrodil crumble and the fear of losing their way of life in Skyrim. He even caves one day and tells her of Orpheus, and how he fears the man has been lost to their Dread Father due to filthy vampires or Hircine’s curse. Lucien pours his knowledge into her and she keeps begging for more.

Anabiel summons him one afternoon, and she looks... well, she looks frightened. Her blank gaze is wide and her hair is dishevelled. Her constant companion, Teldryn Sero, is patting her back and reminding her to breathe. Something has upset his last listener. Lucien unsheathes his blade blindly and whips around the room to find the source of her troubles. No one threatens The Family and lives to tell the tale. He fails to notice their surroundings- the lilting voice of Elisef the Fair in the hall beyond the open door, the fine clothes Anabiel is clad in (taking the place of her uniform, how unprofessional), the incredibly expensive furniture his listener sits on. His mind is only focused on protecting what precious little family they have left, especially since they’re down a jester in the sanctuary now. He hadn’t liked that particular murder, as it violated the wishes of Sithis, but Anabiel was adamant that it was in the Family’s best interest.

Teldryn stops his frantic search with a look. Something on the Morag Tong member’s face tells Lucien that the situation is internal. Lucien knows the influence he has over the girl, for that is what she is at the end of it all, a very frightened girl, and he reaches out to her.

“What ails you, sister?”

The imperial woman shudders and points a shaky finger in the direction of the side table. On it rests a staff that positively radiates Daedric magic. He examines it closer and catches sight of the engravings on the tip. Sheogorath. There is understanding in his voice when he turns back to his blind charge.

“Surely a child of Sithis is not tempted by a Daedric prince. You know your place in our family, correct?”

She is silent for a moment and Lucien wonders privately just how much damage Astrid’s leadership did to the Dread Father’s favoured ones. Finally, with great effort and the whispered support of her elf, Anabiel whispers out a confession:

“I found your silencer, Lucien. Orpheus, right? Well... he’s not the man you once knew. He’s... changed, now.”

Lucien freezes and it all begins to make sense. Orpheus had always been prone to madness, he remembers as much from the restless evenings he spent with his huddled, sobbing silencer on his chest. He remembers the frantic movements, the inane ramblings in high stress situations. He wants to kick himself. Of course Sheogorath took Orpheus. He was the perfect specimen of controlled chaos; the perfect body for the mad god.

“Sister... are you absolutely certain? I’d hate to think you’re lying to me, your brother in the void.”

She nods slowly. Her face softens and her shoulders sag.

“Remember when you told me about your feelings for him? And how the man loved a priest named Martin instead? Sheogorath mentioned the same man and how he was the best man he’d ever known. There was no mention of you, Lucien... I’m so sorry.”

Lucien feels his heart shatter, or rather, what’s left of it.

[whispersafterdusk]

In Your Hands - ch 9

She wasn't sure how long they'd stayed like that, kneeling together in the garden.  When she'd gone to peek out the door she found that Orthjolf and Vingalmo were still there, politely "offering" to escort her back to her wing of the castle.

Her room was...exactly as she remembered, even down to the cups sitting on a low table.  Everything was covered in dust and cobwebs and Orthjolf had laughed as he'd slammed the door behind him -- then, there was the click of the lock turning.

Ralsten had obediently followed without a word, and when she looked to him he was in turn looking back at her expectantly.

Aimlessly she wandered the room for a moment, ignoring memories of better times; she finally brushed the dust off a chair and sat down next to the cold and lifeless fireplace.  "Ralsten, come here."

The elf came over immediately.  "Yes, Mistress?" ((Continued below cut))

She winced but waited until he'd settled at her heels, looking up at her.  In all her years of being a vampire Serana hadn't made a thrall before -- there were always plenty to feed from at the castle and as she'd not been allowed to leave there had never been a chance to even consider creating a thrall of her own.  There was no sign of Ralsten in his face or in his eyes - he was physically awake, yes, and moving around, but he seemed so empty.

When they fed from the thralls and cattle they had always cast the enthralling spell before biting -- it was well known that they wouldn't fight back while under someone's control but a creature in pain would still squirm and move even if they weren't fully aware of their situation and that made feeding a hassle at times.  No one spell seemed to override another and for the most part thralls obeyed anyone giving them orders regardless; the spell seemed to bury them further (or so she thought) so they didn't feel the need to flinch and squirm...but was that true?  WAS that the reason she'd been taught to always cast it before feeding off the cattle and thralls?

Would this wear off if she didn't?

She reached out to trail her fingers down Ralsten's cheek, then stroked his hair; his expression didn't change and he didn't look away - he sat and waited for her orders.

"Ralsten, I need you to do something for me."

"Yes?"

"Fight my control.  Wake up.   I don't want you obeying me, I want you back."

Ralsten stared into her face unblinking for several breaths; eventually his brow furrowed as his expression changed to one of confusion.  "I'm sorry, Mistress.  I don't understand."

She sighed heavily - she hadn't really expected that to work.  "It's all right.  Just...sit there, and let me think."

Ralsten nodded and settled on his heels as instructed.  Serana leaned back in the chair and stared up to the dark, web-choked ceiling.

Her father was not a kind man; it may have seemed a mercy or a kindness for him to allow her to have Ralsten as her own, but she knew better - especially since he'd mentioned the Scroll she'd escaped with before.  Ralsten was a concession only because he was also leverage: Harkon did not and had not cared about Serana's happiness in a very long time.  This little charade of...of showing affection, or something...was only the start of what was going to be something unpleasant to bear.

She tried the door and found that yes, Orthjolf had definitely locked it behind him; there was nothing in the room she thought she could pick the lock with, and even if she'd found something she didn't know how to pick locks.  Ralsten did...but, thralls weren't exactly precise or careful and she doubted he could manage it in his state.

They needed to find a way out of this room and then out of the castle...Ralsten wouldn't survive for very long if they didn't.

After her attempt at ordering him to fight failed, she tried the only other thing she'd seen work: when Dexion had been beaten to his senses and freed.  She felt every blow keenly but Ralsten took them without complaint, only seeming confused at what he could have done to have earned her ire; he was bloodied and barely able to move when she stopped - she'd had to force herself to harm him in the first place, and seeing him in such a state...it burned in her heart.  She'd bandaged him with strips torn from old gowns still hanging in a wardrobe, and had let him lay his head in her lap afterward to rest.

Her prediction that Ralsten was a pawn as much as she was was proven a few nights later when, instead of Rargal bringing in the pitiful amount of food being provided to the elf, it was Harkon himself who came.

"How do you find the company, child?"

Serana sat stiffly in a chair near a tiny slit of a window; as usual Ralsten sat on the floor at her feet, ever ready to tend to his mistress.  "I find I miss the open skies."

"You'll be able to enjoy them soon enough."  Harkon came in further, dragging a finger across the dust gathered on a book shelf.  "I remember when this room was bright and vibrant."

"Then you don't remember it at all.  I spent as little time here as possible."

He grunted.  "Yes, yes... If memory serves, you spent entirely too much time with your mother, willingly ingesting the poison she fed you."

"She wasn't wrong," Serana said softly.

Harkon's gaze snapped to her, eyes flashing.  "Tell me, my dear - where has my Scroll disappeared to?"

A pit of ice seemed to settle into her stomach.  "I don't know."

"I find that hard to believe."

"If it's not here I don't know," she lied.  "And I don't care."

"You should," he muttered.  The lord closed his eyes and seemed to gather himself, and when he looked up again she had the distinct impression of a snake ready to strike.  "What I do, I do for our kind.   These mortals are beneath us, they-"

"You really don't see, do you?" Serana interrupted.  "You can't be that blind."

"We are destined to rule, child.  And I will see it done."

"You want to allow vampires to walk around without fearing the sun.  You want to -- what, destroy the sun?  Block it?  Bring eternal night?" she went on in a rush.  "How can you be so short sighted on what that truly means?"

"I see you took in more poison from your mother than I thought-"

"Why do you refuse to listen?" Serana interrupted again.  "Don't you think that the whole of Skyrim, if not all of the world, would rise up to set things right again?  You may hate mother but she's right -- there'd be wars, we'd be hunted.  And even if we managed to overcome all of the fighting and bring things under our control, what then?  No sun means the plants eventually die, no plants means the animals that eat them die.  With no plants and no animals to feed to the thralls then OUR food dies.  And then we'd die."

"What an endearing little nightmare you've dreamed up," Harkon snorted.  "As dire as those your mother liked to screech about to any who would listen."

"What you want is nothing more than a dream - an impossible one," Serana snapped.  "It's going to end in us being killed, either by mortals or by time."

"My patience and my mercy are not infinite, daughter," Harkon said into the silence that followed. He spun on a heel and began to walk to the door.  "I expect my Scroll to find its way back into my hands...or, there will be consequences."

At the door he paused and turned to fix his gaze on Ralsten, still kneeling at her feet; he left then, the door closing and locking with a series of gentle clicks.

Serana felt the knot of ice that had settled into her stomach at the sight of her father spread out to the rest of her.  She again looked to Ralsten.

Her questions earlier of, 'would this, COULD this, wear off' came to mind again, but then were overtaken by another, singular thought:

 I don't have the time to find out.

Harkon clearly needed her to carry out this prophecy -- that was why her mother had sealed her away.  Her father may not know HOW he needed her but it was enough that he wouldn't dare hurt her...but Ralsten...

She looked around the room; the tables, the chairs and wardrobes, the ancient four-post bed in the corner that hadn't been touched in centuries...everything was covered in a thick layer of dust, only disturbed in those places she'd restlessly paced.

The only thing in the entire room that had been free of dust, somehow, was the coffin that stood against the wall - the same wall that the fireplace was set into.  She didn't believe for a moment that someone had come in to dust just the coffin without touching anything else, but much like her questions about the magic that enthralled Ralsten she didn't care nor did she have the time to explore it.

With a sinking feeling, she knew there was...really, only one solution to saving herself and Ralsten and, by extension, the rest of Skyrim.

"Follow me," she ordered gently.  With the wood elf at her heels she moved over to her coffin; it was an elongated octagon of fine wood, padded and lined with a soft velvet.  It was heavy - so much so that it didn't need to be attached to the wall to prevent it from tipping over but instead stood sturdily on its bottom edge.  "Help me move this - we're going to lay it on the floor, flat."

With Ralsten's assistance they muscled the coffin away from the wall and turned it to lay it flat; once it was down and laid open, she stepped over to look up into Ralsten's eyes.

"...I know, from what Dexion said, that you're in there...able to see and hear me.  I know.  And...I want you to know, that we haven't a choice -- we haven't the time...  We need to leave this place now, and--"  

She stopped and swallowed hard; Ralsten still showed no signs of himself, giving her the same earnest, attentive look he'd worn since he'd "awakened" as a thrall.

"Sit down in the coffin, Ralsten."

He quickly moved to obey, and when he was seated she stepped in after him, settling in his lap and straddling his hips.   Carefully she removed her armor and then the undershirt beneath it until she had just her undergarment on her top half; the dagger on her belt slid soundlessly from its sheath and she held it in a shaking grip then dug its tip into her shoulder and dragged it down toward her collarbone.

Thick, deep red blood began to slowly well up - vampires bled much more slowly than mortals did.  She looked Ralsten in the eyes again for a final time, then reached up to clasp her hands behind his head and gently guide him down to the bleeding gash.

"Drink, until I say stop."

The elf clumsily pressed his lips to the wound and began to suck.   Serana felt sick to her stomach over what she was forcing on him, but strangely she felt nothing at all physically from him feeding.

Much like she'd never made a thrall before she'd also never created a spawn; she had no idea how much of her blood Ralsten would need to turn and so she let him drink for a long time, then softly told him to stop and sit up.

He did, his mouth and beard stained a dark red.  Serana cleaned his face with her undershirt, then laid her hands to his shoulders and pressed him gently down into the coffin on his back.

"Stay here and rest, Ralsten.  Don't move unless I tell you to."

"Yes, Mistress.  I..."

She climbed off him and perched on the coffin's edge.  "You what?"

"I feel...strange..." he whispered.  His eyelids drooped closed and his breath hissed out in a slow, contented sigh.

Serana remained there, watching as he fell asleep.  Her throat felt tight and once she was certain he was fully asleep she leaned down to press a kiss to his forehead.

"I'm so sorry, friend."

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

A sudden hitch in what had been slow, steady breathing was what first alerted Serana to Ralsten awakening.

She hurried away from the window slit and over to the coffin; Ralsten's eyes were closed still but he was twitching as he lay there, beginning to stir.  Gently Serana laid a hand on his chest and waited.

His eyes slid open - they glowed a soft gold not too different from her own.  He sucked in a sharp breath and looked around, seemingly alarmed by the sight of the coffin's walls pressed in so closely to him.

"Ralsten-"

His hands shot up to grab the sides of the coffin, trying to pull himself upright; she grabbed him by the upper arm to help him sit up and kept hold of him as he looked around in confusion, his breathing ragged and rapid.

"Shh, Ralsten- it's all right.  I'm here.  Calm down."

"Serana..." he swallowed hard and looked to her; his eyes were wide open, fearful and confused.  He went to try and crawl over the coffin's side and she pushed him back down.

"Sit a moment, and come to your senses.  I know-"

"-what's- what's happened?  What's happened to me? I- I'm so...hungry," he gasped, reaching up to dig fingers into the hair on either side of his head.

"Shh...calm down.  Breathe."  Serana reached up to carefully de-tangle his hands from his hair, then cupped his face and turned him to look at her.  "Breathe."

Shaking he reached up to place his hands over her own; for some time they sat like that in silence, Ralsten visibly growing calmer until he closed his eyes, exhaled slowly, and then opened them again to look at her with a--

With a look that was decidedly "him" - he was awake, he was aware, and he had returned to her.

"Serana..." he whispered, squeezing her hands.

She let go and stood, holding his hands and helping him stand upright; he swayed a bit but then stood firm, gaze roaming around.   After a pause he pressed a few fingers into his mouth, feeling the fangs that were now present.

"I...I'm so hungry," the elf said, looking at her.  "What do we do now?"

"We need to get out of here and down into the castle proper.  We'll find something for you there, and then we need to escape."

He nodded along at her words, but at the mention of escape he shook his head. "No. No, we - we have to still find your mother."

"It's too dangerous to go back to the garden-"

"We have to," Ralsten interrupted.  He began to slowly move to the door.  "We've no other ideas."

"My father knows we can get down there."

"If we move- if we can get there quickly enough before we're noticed missing...maybe...maybe we'll have a chance."

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

Their plan had to been to wait for day again; it took so long for Ralsten to find something serviceable enough to use to pick the lock that it was nearly midday by the time they were free and creeping along the castle's halls.

They thankfully met no one as they slipped down the stairs and found themselves skirting along the rail that overlooked the main hall.

"My father must not be expecting that we'd..."

Ralsten nodded silently but didn't reply.  He was following closely behind her as she guided them down the stairs and into a room that smelled overwhelmingly of blood; there was a long table in the middle of the room with a mutilated corpse laid out atop it.  There were cabinets and shelves lined with blades, bottles, and torture instruments, along with blood-stained kegs that leaked red fluid to the the discolored stone beneath it.

The hunger within Ralsten surged to the forefront of his mind; Serana took him by the hand and led him to one of the shelves where she grabbed a bottle that was...large, ornate.  It was an exaggerated, tear-drop shape - more squat than tall - and made of a ruby-tinted glass with a patterned, spiked golden metal bonded to the glass.  She pulled the cork free and wrapped his hands around it.

"Drink this.  All of it."

He didn't need encouragement - Ralsten pressed the mouth of the bottle to his lips and began to hungrily gulp its contents.  It was thick on his tongue, coating it, and was as sweet as nectar; he emptied the bottle quickly and swallowed several times after -- Serana watched him quietly, and nodded in approval when he was done.

"You'll feel better soon."

He carefully set the empty bottle back onto the shelf; as the blood coursed through him the hunger faded and, for the first time since Harkon had ambushed them in the gardens, he felt...normal.  Like himself.  Or as much as he COULD feel like himself, considering he was now a vampire.

Serana was moving about, stealing every blood potion that was in the room and shoving it into a sack she'd emptied potatoes out of.  Most of the potion bottles were the smaller ones Ralsten had seen before (the ones that had been shattered when that dwemer trap had sent them into that pit) -- there were only six of the larger, ornate bottles.  They clicked against one another in the sack; there weren't any packs or other means to carry the potions and Serana had no idea where Harkon may have tossed Ralsten's pack (and everything in it).

"We don't have the time to look around elsewhere," she'd whispered once she was done.

He nodded in agreement.  "How do we get from here back to the garden?"

Serana hefted the bag over a shoulder and inched to the doorway, stopping and standing there silent and still, listening.  "--follow me..."

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

Together they had dragged the more intact table and chairs in front of the door they'd come through, as well as the door they'd tried to sneak in through before; they would hardly do a thing if anyone tried to get in here but even a few seconds bought was better than another sudden ambush.

Any admiration for the beauty that remained was gone, for Ralsten; he was far more interested in finding what clues they could and then getting out of here as quickly as possible.

Serana was visibly nervous as they roamed about the garden together, neither willing to leave the relative safety of the other's side; Ralsten found his discarded helmet and the ruins of his breastplate - he couldn't wear the breastplate, not with the straps that held it to him all snapped apart, and he felt foolish thinking he could wear the helmet when he had nothing else on but a shirt, pants, and plain leather boots.

"Where did my boots go?" he'd wondered aloud.  "And the rest of my armor?"

"My father made me order you to change clothing, remember?"

Ralsten didn't respond immediately; it was true that he'd been awake and aware inside his own mind the entire time but things still felt a little jumbled since he'd awakened as a vampire, almost like it was all out of sequence.  "Probably...?  It's a bit of a mess up here."

She smiled at him, though it was tinged with guilt and a hint of sadness.  "You'll remember in time."

Eventually Serana left him to roam and went to walk around the large sundial in the middle of the garden.

"Something's wrong with this moondial, I just know it."

Ralsten came over to here from where he'd been poking about in a tangled patch of dead deathbell.  "Moondial?"

She looked over her shoulder at him with a small smile.  "Moondial.   The previous owners of this castle had a sundial here, but that obviously didn't appeal to my mother.  She persuaded an elven artisan to make some improvements.  See the plates?  They show the phases of Masser and Secunda now."

Ralsten glanced down as she gestured at the circular plates around the giant, pointed dial; some were made of polished white stone, the others were a polished stone that was a sort of dark gray-blue color.   "Did it work?"

"That's the thing...what's the point of a moondial?  I always wondered why she didn't just have the whole thing ripped out.  But she loved it.  I don't know.  I guess it's like having a piece of art, if you're into that sort of thing."

Nodding, Ralsten circled around to the other side of the moondial, his foot nudging one of the plates.  The metal and stone depiction of the moon clanked and moved slightly.  "Seems some of these are loose."

Serana peered around the dial at him.  "--not just loose, some of them are gone.  Look-" she pointed to a few spots on Ralsten's side that were missing the stone crests, and not because they were depicting a phase where the moons weren't visible.

"-why would some be gone?  Would you father have tried to damage this?"

"Maybe..." she murmured.  She stepped from the dial and looked around at the overgrown and mostly dead mess.  "I wonder if those crests are anywhere out here, still.  Look around - even in this mess they should stick out."

Ralsten nodded and went back to roaming the outer edge of the garden; now that he had an idea of what he was looking for he found one crest that was a crescent of white stone laying among a twisted mess of dead tall grasses -- he'd overlooked it before as the grass was white and so was the crest, but he waded in and pulled it free.

He carried it back to the dial, found the correct spot for it, and carefully laid it into the indentations in the stone where it belonged. "How many are missing?"

"--two more," came her answer.

It took him a bit but he found two more - both made of the darker stone, one representing a full moon and the other a half moon.  When he'd returned both to their spots around the dial there was a deep rumble, then the dial began to ponderously spin on its base.

It spun halfway around, pointing its tip in the opposite direction, and then the stone around the dial began to shift and drop down -- a stairwell was formed minutes later, leading down in a tight spiral to something beneath the dial.

"Very clever, mother.  Very clever," Serana murmured.  She carefully made her way down the stairs and through the door at the very bottom.   "I've never been in these tunnels before...but I'd bet they run right under the courtyard and into the tower ruins."

Ralsten stepped in through the door behind her; hanging beside the door was a metal hoop on a chain.  He pulled on it and the dial above them spun around to reseal the entrance.

They looked to one another.  "I've never even seen this part of the castle before.  Be careful.  I don't know what might be around," Serana said.

They began to head deeper into the castle ruins; countless hallways, rooms with tall ceiling, everything choked with dusts and webs, skeever and spiders and skeletons running rampant.

After a particular nasty run in with a sword-wielding skeleton along with a gargoyle that had sprung to life they stopped in a room with a row of wide benches, the walls lined with weapon racks and shelves with dusty, ancient potion bottles.

"Let me teach you something," Serana said as she tied off a bandage around Ralsten's bicep.  "Give me your hand."

He placed his hand in hers and her fingers began to glow in that strange, almost bubbly way that he'd seen her do before.  It seemed to tug at his strength and health, but not in a way that it drained it from him.

"Do you feel that?"

"I do.  What is it?"

"Something that should help keep you alive.  This is the spell..."

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

After poking around in all the abandoned, sometimes destroyed rooms, after wiping out who knew how many skeletons and gargoyles, and finding countless pull chains and hidden switches to open doors disguised as walls, as fireplaces, and as shelves, they'd arrived in a spacious study.

Underneath the vaulted ceilings was a two tiered place, shelves and tables along the walls full of books, dusty and rotting alchemical ingredients, and bones and bottles.  Sunken in the center of the room was a ringed stone area but it had no drain or anything to otherwise indicate why it was designed that way or what its purpose was.

"Look at this place.  This has to be it.  I knew she was deep into necromancy... I mean, she taught me everything I know.  But I had no idea she had a set up like this.  Look at all of this."  Serana moved to the center of the room, beside the strange ringed structure, and turned slowly in a circle taking everything in.  "She must have spent years collecting these components.  And what's this thing?"  She looked down to the rings in the floor.  "I'm not sure about this circle, but it's obviously...something."

Ralsten nodded in agreement and came in to stand beside her.  "What exactly are we looking for?"

"My mother was meticulous about her research.  If we can find her notes, there might be some hints in there about what she was doing and where she might have gone."

To his left were stairs that led to the upper area, and to this right a wide table and a small nook with books.  He decided to check the little nook first.  "Your mother maintained quite the laboratory."

Serana was heading for the stairs.  "I had no idea that this laboratory even existed.  She had an alchemy set up in her drawing room, but nothing that even comes close to what's here."

"What did she research?" he asked.  He reached out to rub a thumb down the spine of a book, wiping away the dust and trying to read its title.

"Looking at what's here, it looks like she was trying to advance her necromancy."

Ralsten pulled a book free and opened it, looking for its title page when the spine proved too old and crumbling to be legible.  "To what end?"

Serana was on the upper level now and her voice was distant and echoed in the large room.  "I don't know.  Certainly not longevity - kind of a waste of time for a vampire."

Slowly Ralsten went through the books on the shelf in the little reading nook; all of their covers were falling apart and some detached when he opened them to check the titles.

All, that is, except for a small red book he'd found tucked between two others, pushed back far enough between the books to either side that he didn't see it until he moved one of them and the bright red had caught his eye.  He slid it free and opened it, leafing through the pages briefly before moving over to one of the benches near the bookshelves to sit down and actually thoroughly read through it.

"Any luck yet?" Serana's voice echoed down to him.  

"--I think I found your mother's notes."

"You did?" She came hurrying down the stairs and over to him.  "Let me see them."

He handed the book over and she sat down beside him.  "I read a bit.  What's this..."soul cairn" she mentions in there?"

She glanced up from the pages to him, brow furrowing.  "I only know what she told me.  She had a theory about soul gems.  That the souls inside of them don't just vanish when they're used...she thought they ended up in the Soul Cairn."

"Why would she care where the souls went?"

She returned her attention to the pages again but kept talking.  "The Soul Cairn is home to very powerful beings.  Necromancers send them souls and receive powers of their own in return.  My mother spent a lot of time trying to contact them directly, and to travel to the Soul Cairn herself."

Ralsten scratched his beard, grunting slightly at that and looking around at everything in the study.  "...do you think she figured it out?"

Serana sighed, closing the book on a finger to keep her place and catching his gaze with her own.  "That circle in the center of the room -- that definitely must be some type of portal."  She ruffled the corners of the pages briefly, then went back to reading.

He remained beside her, occasionally stealing glances at the pages; after some time she stirred and turned her attention to the circular...portal...thing in the middle of the room.

"If I'm reading this right, there's a formula here that should give us safe passage into the Soul Cairn."

"And you're sure that's where she's gone?"

"I don't know where else to search," she replied after a pause.

"All right."  Ralsten stood and moved out to stand in the middle of the room, looking at her from over a shoulder.  "What do we need?"

"Let's see..."  Serana stood and brought the journal with her, keeping it open to a certain page.  "A handful of soul gem shards, some finely ground bone meal, a good bit of purified void salts...  Oh.  Damn it."

He blinked at her.  "What?  What's wrong?"

She held the book up toward him - a formula was written out but all he could see were diagrams he didn't understand and writing that was too tiny to read from where he stood.  "We're also going to need a sample of her blood.  Which...if we could get that we wouldn't even need to try this in the first place."

He hummed to himself, chewing on his lower lip.  "--you share her blood.  Would that work?"

"We'd better hope that's good enough.  Mistakes with these kind of portals can be...gruesome.  Anyway," she closed the book and let her gaze slowly roam over the dusty shelves.  "Let's get started."

She again headed up to the top level while Ralsten began his search on the lower.

"Is there anything you can tell me about the Soul Cairn?" he called up to her as he sorted through a top shelf.

"It's a tiny sliver of Oblivion, the realm of the daedra.  It's ruled by unseen being known as Ideal Masters."

"What are they?"

"No one really knows.  As far as I've heard, no one's seen them and returned to Tamriel to tell about it."

"How can you be sure these exist?  Maybe they're something disguised as something else."

He heard a tinkling - she must have been moving bottles around.   "I've read stories.  Stories about fools that managed to...communicate with them.  You give the Ideal Masters souls, they give you powers to summon the undead.  It's all very business-like.  I'd doubt it'd be anything trying to hide what they are - daedra tend to be fairly direct about themselves after awhile.  They want to be known and worshiped, or at least known and feared."

Ralsten nodded to himself and moved on to the next shelf.  "--why do you say the necromancers are fools?"

"Because most of the stories are of the Ideal Masters duping the necromancers, who end up dead or...wishing they were dead."

Ralsten kept searching; he found what he assumed was the bonemeal in a large silver bowl on the same table as a collection of bones and skulls.  He carried the bowl with him and headed toward the stairs to join Serana on the upper level, but on the way up the stairs noticed what could only be the soul gem shards sitting atop a short, squat cabinet.  He grabbed them and met Serana at the top -- she had a silver bowl full of void salts, and she led the way over to a chalice that was perched on the balcony rail that overlooked the circular portal.

They put all of the ingredients into the chalice, then Serana carefully cut into the crook of her elbow and squeezed some blood in on top of it all.

The instant her blood dripped into the chalice the rings of the portal came alive -- they rotated and moved, splitting in half with some arranging themselves upward toward Serana and Ralsten in a sort of stairwell down, and the rest all sank downward into the floor as a purple vortex appeared.

"By the blood of my ancestors..." Serana whispered.  "She actually did it...created a portal to the Soul Cairn.  Incredible."  She seemed to admire the swirling purple energies, then looked up to him.  "I'm ready when you are."

Ralsten nodded; he wasn't quite so...eager to descend into the vortex.  "What will you do if we do wind up finding your mother?"

"I've been asking myself the same thing since we came back to the castle...  She was so sure of what we did to my father, I couldn't help but go along with her."  She fell silent a moment, then in a much quieter tone, "I never thought of the cost."

He smiled kindly at her, hesitantly and gently resting a hand on her shoulder.  "It sounds like everything she did, she did for your sake."

Serana smiled at the touch of his hand.  "Possibly.  I guess even a vampire mother is still a mother.  She worried about me.  About all of us.  But she wanted to get me as far away from my father as possible before he really went over the edge."

Ralsten took a deep breath then took several steps down toward the portal.  "--you know, in a way...it sounds like she was sort of selfish about it, though."

He heard her much lighter footsteps on the stones behind him.   "She...wasn't.  Not always.  But I think you're right.  She was practically smirking as we left home.  Almost like she was proud of herself.  Like...she didn't want to just stop my father, she wanted to stick it to him too."

"We won't know until we find her, I guess."

"Yes...yes, you're right.  I'm sorry.  I just didn't expect anyone to care how I felt about her.  Thank you."

He turned to flash her a grin.  "Are we ready?"

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

"I'd heard - read - stories about the Soul Cairn, but never thought I'd see it myself.  So far it's...about what I imagined."

They'd emerged at the top of a stairwell made of stone rings, into a place that was dark, foreboding... The soil was like ash and was dotted with black brick ruins and tall, curved stone monoliths along with smaller ritual stones sunk into the dirt.  Here and there were brilliant purple-white...pits, of some kind.  They could hear a strange rushing noise if they drew close to any of them, and as they carefully walked through the desolate landscape they could see and hear the cries and moans of confused or regretful spirits that they could see walking about, or spot just out of the corner of their eyes before they vanished again.

"Look at this place...I can't imagine choosing to come here.  My mother must have been terrified."

"Do you know anything else about here?"

"Just what my mother told me.  I've also studied a bit on my own, but there's not much.  When something is trapped in a soul gem, and then the energy is used for powering an enchantment, the remnants are sent here."

Ralsten stiffened - he was fairly adept at enchanting his own weapons and armor.  He bought the gems from any wizard or shopkeep who happened to have them and had never wanted to know where they'd come from, and also hadn't given any thought to what happened when the gems were used. "ANY soul gem?"

"Well," Serana said after a moment.  "I think it's specifically the black ones.  I don't know if the Soul Cairn takes just any leftovers."

They walked along in silence for a time.  "--do you think we're going to run into the Ideal Masters?  Why are they collecting souls?  And why would anyone want to deal with them?"

"I don't think anyone's ever met the Ideal Masters.  I'm not sure anyone knows what they look like...they could be underground, flying above us...they might BE the ground.  I have no idea.  As for the souls, there's lots of theories.  Some say they feed on them like I - we... - feed on blood.  Others think they use them as payment to an even higher power...like a currency.  A very strange currency.  Whatever they're doing with them, they've been harvesting for millennia.  No telling how many souls are trapped here."

"And necromancers?"

"Look around you.  There are some extremely powerful undead here.   Even a necromancer as seasoned as my mother would be willing to spend years trying to get access to them."

"Access...you mean, summoning them?"

She nodded.  "Exactly.  It's a lost art.  Most necromancers just raise up whatever bodies are nearby.  A simple trick, raelly.  Child's play.  But bringing something from the Soul Cairn gives you something much more powerful."  Serana fell silent then, attention moving about as they walked along what looked most like a path through the foul place. "My mother wanted to keep the Scroll as far from my father as possible.  I was sealed away with one...if she has a second, I can't imagine a better place to hide it than here."

[fictionerd]

Chapter One: Out of Time Entry #3

“Grief is a powerful Motivator” - Rose

---Last Seed, 18th, 4E 201--- Well, the petty larceny went off without a hitch. I figure this "Brand Shei" fellow will be out of a cell by tomorrow morning once bureaucracy grinds itself out. Of course maybe the legal system has become draconian while I slept.

Speaking of sleep. I'd best get used to sleeping in the afternoons. Limit the time I spend in the sun until I find a workaround for that particular weakness.

I know the way I'v e been writing about this makes me seem flippant about the situation. I'm really not. It's eating away at the back of my mind, what I did to Grelod. The way it felt was- I don't really want to talk about it. If it had been traumatic that would be one thing. The problem is that the experience really wasn't. I guess that's the point. Who'd want to continue to live as a vampire if feeding scarred them mentally and emotionally?

Anyway. To bed I suppose. T'is good for mine complexion. Wouldn't want to burn my lovely skin.

Nope. It didn't make me feel better.

>I find myself facing a dilemma. Brynjolf offered to let me join his "organization". I'm one-hundred percent certain he means the thieves guild.

My dilemma is this: Being what I am it'd be a good idea to learn Skyrim's underground. I hold no illusions that I'll be able to indefinitely lead an above-board life. There will likely be times and reasons I need to duck out fo sight.

On the other hand: Sleighting a ring from some one's strongbox into some one else's pocket almost as a prank is one thing. I'm actively considering becoming a thief. I don't have a moral problem with the idea per se, but I'm uncertain if that's a road I want to travel.

Are the risks worth it? I just don't know.

I suppose I'll put the decision on hold. I should probably head back toward Windhelm and let Aretino know Grelod is dead. I may not have intended to fulfill his contract, but since it's done he may as well know so he can return to his friends here.

---Last Seed, 19th, 4E 201--- I fed again. As I was heading out to collect a bounty I felt the hunger start to grow again. Not wanting to go back to the starved state I awoke in I took full advantage when I found the bandit leader asleep in Nilheim. I could have stopped short of killing him, but since I was there to take his head anyway I allowed myself to indulge once more.

I need to not make a habit of that if I can help it. At some point restraint is going to be necessary. I can hear my mother in my head now.

"People live so that they can indulge themselves. The trick is learning when and when not to let yourself go."

>I've sat staring at this page for five minutes. I just remembered a detail about my childhood. I remembered my mother even for a brief moment. I remembered her face.

[Tear stains can be seen on the page]

Are my memories returning as I feed? Or is something else causing them to return?

> I slept fairly peacefully after my last entry. I face another evening now. Night stretches out before me. I've been in Riften two or three days now and no one has come to drag me off to prison so I guess I'm good to go. I'll head up to Windhelm tonight to give my report to Aretino.

I could buy a horse, but I think I'll stick to carriages for the moment. It just feels better to have human company whenever I can.

>I sit now recording this in Candlehearth hall. I arrived in Windhelm after some winding road travel north. It didn't take long all things considered, and the carriage driver was good company. Aretino was beyond pleased that I'd completed his request. I actually sat and talked with the boy for a little bit afterward. He told me he wanted to be an assassin when he grew up so he could help all kinds of kids just like me.

I thought that was precious. I know that most people wouldn't feel that way, but to me that sentiment was cute. Cute and oddly nostalgic. Did I want to be an assassin when I was younger? I think I did. Really the muscle memory I possess for fighting and the spells I could remember when I woke up seem to support the idea.

I had to have trained with very specific instruction to learn how to sneak around with several pounds of steel strapped to my back in the form of a honkin greatsword. Maybe the answers I'm looking for about my past will lie with the Dark Brotherhood?

It was mention of them that drew me to Aretino in the first place. The thought has merit. Unfortunately I don't have the slightest clue how to go about finding the brotherhood so I'll just keep trudging for now.

Getting familiar with Skyrim's underground just got a lot more appealing though.

---Last Seed, 20th, 4E 201--- I did not expect to enter the Windhelm hall of the dead of my own free will. At least not anytime soon.

After my last entry I decided to have a walk around the city, take in the night air, that sort of thing. I happened to be walking through the graveyard when I come upon the site of a murder. The victim was Susanna the Wicked from Candlehearth. I remember her from the night I first woke up. She actually flirted with me a little bit. I recall thinking that was a tad strange. Not unwelcome just strange.

Now she's dead, and unlike me she's not getting back up again without some necromantic assistance. So I decided to investigate. Got permission from the Jarl's steward and everything. I'm officially investigating a murder. Isn't that ironic?

The lady in charge of the Hall of the Dead only noted that the wounds seemed to have been inflicted with embalming tools. Specifically ancient nordic ones. I'd say that safely rules out most of the city's populace as the culprit. Now to find out the scholarly and eccentric types and narrow it down to one from there. Unless we're dealing with a secret cabal of killers all united by their love of embalming implements.

Helgird, the lady in charge here, looked at me funny because I giggled as that last thought crossed my mind. I think I'm developing a morbid sense of humor. Best get back out into the cold and track down my next lead. Shouldn't be any trouble. I've become very good at following blood trails recently.

>Suspicious, old, locked mansion? I do believe we have found ourselves a killer's lair. Wonder what the going rate in town is? I might need one in the forseeable future after all.

>Bingo! A journal discussing the exquisite nature of Susanna's tendons? Amid rablings about sources for flesh, blood, and other such things? Looks like I'm definitely on the right track. Let's see what else I find.

>Now THIS is interesting. A strange amulet found among a pile of these "Beware the Butcher" papers. Seems the killer has been tearing these down. Bad idea if you ask me. They're sort of asking to be caught doing something like that. What's their excuse for it? I doubt it'd stand up to scrutiny.

>And that's a necromantic ritual sight hidden behind a false cupboard. Shit. What have I gotten into here?

>Spoke to the steward about the clues I found in the spooky old mansion. He referred me to a "Viola Giordano" for the Butcher pamphlets and "Calixto" for the amulet. Let's get cracking we have a murder to solve and the sun's coming up.

>Spoke to Giordano about the Butcher's journals. She suspects a fellow by the monicker "Wuunferth the Unliving". If you ask me that's a bit too on-the-nose.

>All roads lead to Wuunferth it seems. According to Callixto the amulet is "The Wheelstone". It's a piece belonging to the court wizard of Windhelm. That'd be our boy the Unliving. I don't like Calixto though. He offered to buy the amulet off me. Ceremonial or not that doesn't seem like a good idea. Especially if the piece is as well-known as his attitude seemed to imply.

I could go to the steward with all this, but I believe I'll talk to Wuunferth directly. If he IS the killer and tries to make a move I'm confident five feet of steel will be enough to dissuade him. Especially at close quarters.

>The Necromancer's Amulet, eh? I think I'm going to go sell this to Calixto after all. Unless I miss my guess it'll be back in my hands again by midnight.

Needless to say my encounter with Wuunferth went well. He's an agreeable old chap in his own way. If he turns out to have set me up it's going to be a real let-down. I don't think he is though. Call it instinct. He has the air of a predator, or at the very least a formiddable presence. He doesn't strike me as a giggling maniac mumbling about flesh magic and killing young girls for spare parts.

>He wasn't home. Too bad. Well I guess I'll have a meal (a normal one) at Candlehearth and sleep the day away. Tonight I catch me a killer.

>And so Calixto, the Butcher, is laid low. I suppose any future reader of this journal will wonder how it is I knew Calixto was my man. Well it's quite simple, really. The idiot was displaying a set of the embalming tools he used to dismember the young women he killed right in plain sight in his little museum.

If Helgird had been the culprit she wouldn't have clued me in about the tools. If Wuunferth had been the killer why would he set me loose to patrol the city rather than quietly be rid of me while we were alone in his study?

All that being said I still wasn't absolutely certain. So I did patrol the city and spotted Calixto in the market as he drew steel to kill someone. I cast a Fury spell on him drawing his attention away long enough for his intended victim and a newly-arrived guard to fall on him. I may have also helped a bit. Now he lies dead in the snow and I feel satisfied with my work here.

Checked his little museum over after he died. Found his last journal. Seems he was trying to resurrect his sister. That's a motivation I can understand. I don't agree with it. Especially since he was building her a patchwork body of about ten or so people, but I get it. Grief is a powerful motivator. Let's hope it doesn't sink its claws into me.

[fuckthetemplars]

Can you share about your ocs plz

i’m not sure if you’re prepared for the big ol’ can of worms you just opened, pal, but i’m throwing all of this under a cut because i have a lot to say

i hope the under the cut things work, but here we go:

Okay, so, first thing I’m gonna say is that if you pick an OC of mine at random, whether it’s a Dragon Age, Skyrim, or Original OC there is a 98% chance that that character is trans. I’m trans, all of my babies are trans.

I’m gonna talk about my four (4) Skyrim OC’s for now though, there’s

Akcha, an Orc who was raised by Falmer. (trans, bi af)

Tarenin, a half-Bosmer half-Orc. (trans, gay af, falls in love with any man who’s nice to him((me too)))

Lyrill, a Dunmer and an Asshole. (bi af)

Lichen, a Bosmer. (gayyy)

Let’s talk about Akcha first,

When Akcha was a baby his family was travelling when they stopped for the night in the ruins of an old Dwemer building. They were unaware that just a bit deeper in the ruin a camp of bandits were hiding out. The bandits killed his family and Falmer, drawn by the noise, killed the bandits. The leader of the tribe passed mercy on the crying child and Akcha was raised among their young as one of their own.

Years later when Akcha is in his late teens, he spends most his time exploring the underground ruins of the Dwemer buildings and during one of his little adventures he comes across a small camp. In this camp, as he creeps closer to investigate, is a lone elf, sleeping by the fire.

This elf is Lichen, who has always had a fascination in the Dwemer ever since his mother warned him to stay away from the ruin near their village. As soon as he was old enough to explore on his own he’d go as close as he dared, growing bolder as he grew older until soon enough he was spelunking around in caves and having to fight Dwemer automatons and Falmer alike. When he wakes up to a figure in Falmer armor poking around his things he damn near has a heart attack and they both instinctively try and Kill Each Other.

Luckily they don’t! Akcha’s helmet flies and Lichen is shocked to see an Orc where he expected the twisted, blinded face of a Falmer and Akcha is thrown off his rhythm when Lichen doesn’t go in for the killing blow. They struggle to communicate with each other at first but get across the message of ‘I don’t want to hurt you’ and that camp becomes a place for them to meet or leave little things for each other. However, Lichen is a member of the Thieves Guild starting from when he’s 19, and a few years after he and Akcha are an established couple Lichen confides in him that things are getting worrisome around Riften. Lichen feels like there’s a target on his back and fears he may have to leave the city until the Guild can figure out what’s going on, Akcha asks Lichen not to leave that night but he goes anyways and he doesn’t return.

Akcha speaks with his tribe and tells his father that he’s going to the surface. Lichen is in trouble and Akcha can’t sit idly by and wait for someone else to save him, he receives his father’s blessing and goes to the surface where, in correspondence with the Skyrim plot, he’s captured in the Imperial ambush and taken to Helgen. Neither of them are the Dragonborn though, just two more people caught up in everything that’s going on, and I have a few scenes that I really want to write for them. The first being a dramatic scene where Akcha goes off on Brynjolf because he went to the Guild for help finding Lichen and the Guild proves to be kind of useless there :/ But Bryn does try his best to help Akcha figure out what happened to Lichen.

But worry not, they will eventually be reunited and Lichen will, more or less, be okay!

Then there’s Lyrill, who I had originally wanted to be brought up in the Dawnguard by his parents, I had a sad backstory and everything planned, but now I’m thinking that he was indited into the Dark Brotherhood at a very young age, trained to be the perfect killing machine. He’s an archer and a very good shot, he doesn’t miss. He’s a very closed off person emotionally, the only emotions he lets anyone see are anger and irritation. His success rate for Dark Brotherhood contracts is 100%, he has never failed any job and always fulfills his contracts. Until he’s given one particular assignment, he goes to meet the contract and it’s an old Nord in Dawnstar. He wants one of the miners in town killed,

“He’s one of them filthy halfones and he’s making an ass of my miners. Brute can do twice the work they can in half the time, he’s making a fool of my men!” Lyrill accepts the contract and later that night he breaks into the ‘halfones’ home before he returns from the mine.

Tarenin walks home that night, back and shoulders aching and doing his best to ignore the insults hurled at him from the drunk Nords aboard the ship anchored at the dock. It’s a common occurrence and he has to dodge a few bottles tossed his way, the only thing he has to look forward to is the promise of reading a letter delivered by a courier earlier that day from his mother.

He enters his home and sits to read the letter, only to discover it’s his mother breaking the news of his favorite aunt’s death, she was murdered by vampires; the Dawnguard delivered her remains to the stronghold. Within the privacy of his own home Tarenin cries and mourns her. In the midst of his tears he’s startled by a loud thud behind him and a voice saying,

“Well, you’re a pathetic sight.” Lyrill, revealing himself from where he had been hiding in the rafters. Lyrill leaves Dawnstar that night and reports back to the Brotherhood that he’s failed his first contract.

Tarenin, shaken from their meeting and now knowing that someone in Dawnstar was willing to pay to have him murdered, leaves the city. He travels to Winterhold where he studies at the college and a few months after his enrollment he goes to the Arcanium to speak with Urag and is shocked to see a familiar face speaking with the librarian.

Lyrill had tracked him down, he wanted Tarenin’s assistance with a job.

“I won’t help you kill anyone.”

“We won’t be killing anyone-well, maybe a few people, but that isn’t the job. How do you feel about vampires?” Tarenin accepts the job, a guilty bitterness in his heart towards vampires, and after that he decides to remain with Lyrill. They continue to travel together, eventually joining the Dawnguard themselves, and Lyrill learns how to care for someone beside himself and how to open up to someone else.

This was way longer than I expected it to be, I’m so sorry, I get easily carried away, but I hope you like hearing about my babes! Also I really hope the ‘read more’ link worked because oof I would hate to have to scroll past all this rip