whispers-of-masser - Tumblr blog

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"he would not fucking say that" i say with disgust, but im not talking about characterization im talking about his, like, vocabulary

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a fictional man with unresolved issues called me cringe? unacceptable i must learn his past and figure out why hes traumatized immediately

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@dalishthunder you tagged me for a WIP thing back on July 26 and just missed me; a few days prior I went on an indefinite break. I didn't see the tag till just now, logging back in for the first time in months and scrolling through my dash – it was so far back it wasn't even in my activity log and I've already lost the post lmao Anyway here's a lil something I just thought of for it. In return I'm tagging you back, cause uh ... why not lol

~~~

"Hey. If we were animals, what kind would we be?"

You blink at Khash's sudden question, glancing over to the tree stump she's perched on, Xelzaz sitting on the ground right in front as she braids him a flower crown.

Before you can even think of an answer, Nebarra stomps past with a disdainful sniff. "You and Xel would be lizards, what else? And our dear dragonborn... well, as if that isn't obvious."

Xelzaz shoots him a lazy glare. "Your lack of originality is as astounding as ever, Nebarra. You even managed to forget to list yourself."

"Oh!" Khash's hands pause their braiding momentarily. "I know what Nebarra would be!"

"An eagle, I expect," the Altmer drawled. "Or something equally–"

"What? No – a mud crab!"

For several long seconds, there was silence.

You're the first to laugh, Xelzaz quickly joining in, even as Nebarra splutters an indignant, "What?"

"I mean," Khash begins, pointing at him with a bundle of yet-unwoven flowers, "you're covered in a hard shell of armour, a sword and dagger for pinchers, always fighting stuff much bigger than you – and you're cranky like one, too."

"She's got you there," you manage to laugh.

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I wanna know what people assume about me because of my tumblr.

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YOU'RE TRYING OUT RUMARIN!!!! YEEEEEE

Lmao somehow ended up marrying rumarin even though i never initiated any romance with him. Found him and immediately we're married

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Just Tonight (II)

✧ Nebarra x human!LDB ✧ Angst to comfort; 2k+ words ✧ Brief & very mild suggestive content, light swearing ♫ "My Blood" - Echos, "Mistake" - NF, "Stubborn" - Riell ✒ @candydreamer122, you asked to be notified when this dropped so here ya go!

Nebarra opened his eyes to the golden light of dawn, your head resting on his chest, bare legs intertwined with his. Your body pressed against his, warm and comforting, and when he glanced down at your face, he'd never seen it more peaceful. He reached up, brushing your cheek with his thumb, and even in your sleep, you leaned into his touch.

Gods, you took his breath away. But even as he lay there, admiring you in the soft morning light, a single, unpleasant thought wormed its way to the front.

He didn't deserve you.

It made him pause, something turning sour in the pit of his stomach. No... Please, no...

He didn't want the moment to end. Didn't want the thoughts he knew would turn his happiness to ash. But for years they had whispered in his mind, been his constant companions, bitter and selfish lovers that left him with nothing in return but pain and cynicism. They would not let him go so easily, relinquish the control he has given them long ago.

All the more reason he couldn't, shouldn't have you.

Because, really, what could he offer you? He had nothing but his past, his bitterness, his selfish nature. Even last night had been spurred on by his own selfish desires, exacerbated further still by drink. He was nothing but thorns, rough and crude, the blood of hundreds on his hands – and he felt no guilt over them.

...Most of them.

You didn't deserve someone like that. You could do so much better than him.

Why did you want him, at all?

And as he lay there, hand cupping your face, his eyes drinking in every curve and contour – your own slowly fluttered open.

His breath caught. Sunlight danced across your irises, and he could see himself reflected in your gaze. For a few moments, you simply blinked at him, and he could see every minute shift in your expression. Emptiness, confusion, sudden realisation – and then you smiled.

Nebarra had seen many things in life. Many ugly things, things that he'd tried to forget, that haunted him until he drowned them in drink. The few beautiful things he'd seen, though... those, he remembered clearly, and often. Fought to carve them into every facet of his memory, to allow himself the slightest hope, to give himself the smallest of reasons to keep going. And the smile you gave him...

It was the most beautiful of them all.

There was life in your smile. Vast, vibrant, and beautiful, your face haloed in the golden light of morning, you looked... divine.

And then, you spoke, words low and husky from sleep, a laugh rumbling in your throat: "And you call me guar-face." Slowly, you raised a hand, gentle fingers brushing his cheeks, smile growing ever wider.

...He wanted you. Gods, how he wanted you. His heart ached with the thorns of longing, with the knowledge that he couldn't, shouldn't have you.

So, he turned away, pulled back from your touch. Forced an empty expression on his face, in his eyes. Grunted a simple, "Morning." And carefully, oh so carefully, pushed you off him.

"...Nebarra?"

Unwelcome. Outsider. All he was ever meant to be.

"What?" The word was heavy on his tongue, deadened in tone as he sat up, got off the bet, and set to collecting his clothes from the floor.

"Nebarra... What's wrong?"

Everything. "Nothing." He fumbled with his trousers, nearly falling as he tugged them on, still scanning the floor for his shirt. Anything to avoid meeting your eyes.

"Bullshit." Sheets rustled as you leaned forward, and he could practically hear your brows furrow at him. "Is it... because of last night?"

"No." Yes.

"I think it is. And I think we should talk about it – about this."

"There's nothing to talk about," he grunted, still pacing the floor, eyes roving everywhere but the bed. Where was his damn shirt?

"Oh, I think we have a lot to talk about."

He didn't answer, and in the silence, fabric rustled some more. Then, your voice, "...Looking for this?"

Finally, slowly, Nebarra looked at you. You were sitting upright on the bed, and in one hand you held up his shirt, winkled and dusty from the floor.

And you... were still very much naked. Your chest was on blatant display, the blankets pooled low around your hips, deep purple teethmarks scattered over your skin – his doing. Nebarra swallowed, averting his gaze back to the tunic. 

Wordlessly, he stalked over, reaching out for it – only for you to snap your hand back, away from him. He sighed. "What are you doing?"

You didn't answer, though he could feel your gaze burning into him. Reluctantly, he returned it – and the storm in your eyes sent a shock down his spine.

Oh...

Oh, no.

Before he could even begin to pick apart what he saw in there, you raised your arms, slid them through the holes of the shirt, and pulled it down over your head.

You... were wearing his shirt.

Still holding his gaze, there was something like a challenge in your eyes. Nebarra grit his teeth and, for once in his life, held his tongue, unsure if he could win this one.

The thought... unsettled him. 

But... maybe not as much as it should have.

"Nebarra."

No. No, no no no. You couldn't do that to him – say his name in that tone, in that way. 

"What?" he snapped, harsher than intended.

Maybe he should have just been born mute.

"We need to talk about this."

"No, we don't."

"Why not?"

"Because... it was a mistake." He looked away, unable to meet your gaze, tearing a hand through his hair. Coward, coward, coward. "That's all there is – was – to it. We were drunk, and tired, and maybe... just maybe... a little lonely. So we made a bad decision – one we should just forget about, move on from. Because ultimately... it meant nothing. Not a damn thing."

It felt like an eternity passed before you answered, and when you did, your voice was heavy, rasping with emotion. "...If that's how you really feel, then–"

You choked. Nebarra could practically hear the words catch in your throat, dying before they could pass your lips. Instead, a low, bitter laugh rose suddenly in their place; the sound scraped his wounded heart raw. "Gods damn you, Nebarra. You're... really selfish, you know that?"

"Yeah," he mumbled. "I know."

But you weren't done. Because as you rose from the bed, the floorboards creaking beneath your feet, you continued, "You're also... a really shit liar."

And then you were standing before him, your hand on his chin, turning his face towards you, your gaze searching his. He couldn't avoid your eyes this time, couldn't look away from the storm raging within them: hurt, anger, confusion.

Because of him. Him, and his stupid decisions, and his even stupider words.

Yet, even as he stared, he could see something else in them, too.

Affection. Care. Passion. And... lo–

Why? Why him? Of all the people on Nirn you could want, how could you want the mess that was him?

"I don't know," you said softly, and Nebarra realised with horror that he'd spoken his thoughts aloud. "Because, gods, you really are a mess, aren't you? You're bitter, cynical, surly, arrogant, selfish, flawed to the moons and back, but..." Your hand shifted, brushing upwards to cradle his cheek, and the Altmer found himself holding his breath, afraid of what you'd say next, needing to hear what you'd say next.

Only, you didn't say anything. Instead, you simply leaned in, pulled him close – and kissed him. Before he even knew what he was doing, Nebarra found himself returning it, pulling you in closer, hands falling to your waist –

Wait.

No.

Stop.

What was he doing?

Breathless, he pulled away, nearly stumbling over his own feet. His mind spun; he couldn't seem to form a single coherent though. "What – what was that?"

Your eyes seemed to stare right down to his soul, burning with intensity, filled with both pain and longing. Yet a faint, bittersweet smile ghosted across your face as you answered, "Nothing, apparently."

...Damn you.

Before he could change his mind, think himself out of it, Nebarra caught your arm and tugged you sharply back towards him, crashing his lips back against yours. You stumbled from the initial force of it, but he followed your motion, keeping your lips on his.

After a moment, your arms slipped around his neck, one hand cradling the back of his head, the other tickling his nape. He grunted into the kiss, pulling you back towards the bed; you didn't resist, and readily fell back on it.

Nebarra fell with you, straddling your prone form, brushing his lips from your mouth to your jaw, nipping gently as he went. A soft gasp escaped you; his hands slid down, tugging your shirt – his shirt – gradually upward, pulling it off of you. 

And immediately he sat up, got off the bed, and tugged it over his own head. Without a word, he walked away to the other side of the room, leaving you naked and stunned on the bed.

"...Nebarra!"

"Like you said," he muttered, stalking across the room and far from you, "I'm selfish."

He could hear a frustrated breath hissing through your teeth. "Damn you! Why can't you just admit what you feel, what you want? What are you so afraid of?"

The elf froze.

You could see right through him, couldn't you?

"You don't... even know me," he managed at last, keeping his back towards you. "You don't even know my name, my real name."

"I don't need a name to know you, though. Names aren't what define us – we define them. It doesn't matter to me whether you're Nebarra or... or Nico, or something else entirely. Because you're still, and always will be you, regardless of what name you answer to."

Gods, why did you have to be so damn stubborn?

"Pot, kettle, black," you sniffed, and Nebarra realised that yet again, he'd spoken aloud. "And who knows, maybe I picked some of it up from you in the first place."

Sighing heavily, Nebarra leaned forwards and let his forehead thunk against the wall. He stayed like that for a long moment, counting his breaths, trying to collect his thoughts.

"I'm not... suited for a relationship," he slowly began. "I wouldn't be... you have better options than me. People who could give you what you want far better than I could."

At that, you actually laughed, and he turned to look at you despite himself. There was no smile on your face, only pain and mockery; the sight drove thorns through his chest. "Who, then, O wise one, most knowledgeable of relationships? Who on Nirn can give me what I want, when what I want – is you."

He shook his head. "Well... you shouldn't. I can give you nothing."

"You aren't nothing," you said softly. "Your heart isn't nothing. Don't you get that yet, Nebs?"

"My... heart," he echoed, staring blankly at you. "My heart."

Shifting, you rose from the bed, wrapping a blanket around yourself as you approached. "Yeah, your heart. This thing–" you placed a hand over his chest "–that's beating right here, going at a million miles a second." Your eyes locked with his once more, and somehow, even before you spoke, he knew. He knew.

"I love you, you miserable bastard. And I want you, not for anything you can offer me, but for who you are. There's no doubt in my mind about that. Now, the only question left is... how do you feel? What do you want?"

He couldn't hide from it any longer. The truth was on his tongue, escaping his lips before he even had to think about it. "You. I just... gods damn it, I just want you," he rasped. "But..."

You placed a gentle finger against his mouth. "Shh," you murmured. "No buts."

Slowly, Nebarra raised a hand, brought it up to yours, and pulled it away from his lips, instead lacing his fingers with yours. "No, listen. I... this... is going to be complicated, if we really do this. And... you're probably going to get hurt and disappointed because of me. There's a lot you don't know–"

"And you can tell me when you're ready," you soothed, brushing your thumb across the back of his hand. "We'll cross all those bridges when we get to them. And yes, before you protest any further," you added, when his mouth opened to do just that, "I'm aware of the emotional risks. But that's part of every relationship, Nebarra, and you know that. So, again, when they do inevitably arrive, we'll cross those bridges together."

...He really didn't deserve you. Didn't understand how or why you wanted him, of all people. But as you rested your forehead against his, breaths mingling, eyes full of nothing but each other – Nebarra realised he didn't care, anymore.

The voices in his head, all the doubts and fears – they still hissed their poison, and he knew it would be a long, long time before they stopped. But a new voice had joined the mix, soft but confident, telling him that maybe, just maybe, life wasn't about "deserving" things, but appreciating them. That maybe, amid the bleak desert of his past, he could still find a lone rose of happiness.

And that voice... sounded an awful lot like yours.

[whispers-of-masser]

WIP Wednesday

Tysm for the tag @dalishthunder! I've got nobody to tag though so uhhh if you're a fellow writer and you see this, post a snippet you cowards

~~~

"Nebarra."

Unwelcome. Outsider. All he was ever meant to be. 

"What?" he snapped, harsher than intended.

Maybe he should have just been born mute.

"We need to talk about this."

"No, we don't."

"Why not?"

"Because... it was a mistake." He looked away, unable to meet your gaze, tearing a hand through his hair. Coward, coward, coward. "That's all there is – was – to it. We were drunk, and tired, and maybe... just maybe... a little lonely. So we made a bad decision – one we should just forget about, move on from. Because ultimately... it meant nothing. Not a damn thing."

It felt like an eternity passed before you answered. At last though, a bitter laugh escaped you, the sound scraping Nebarra's heart raw. "You're... really selfish, you know that?"

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Me immediately after posting my fic: welp, time to never look in that thing's direction again, if I see it even out of the corner of my eye, I'm gonna be ill

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If you were in a fanfic, would you be the pining idiot or the oblivious dumbass?

post it in the tags!!

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Talos of Atmora

Pairing: Nebarra/LDB (gender neutral reader) Rating: Teen Words: 1056 Additional Info: So, this was meant to be smut, but my hand slipped and it became hurt comfort and I have a lot of ideas I want to explore in Destiny Waits for No One instead of in a little one shot lmao

Injuries were inevitable in your line of work. That's why restoration spells and healing potions existed. But it didn't change the fact that you were holed up in a shack with possibly the worst of your companions. Xelzaz would have been able to heal you. Lucifer and Kaidan would have at least been pleasant company. What did Nebarra bring to the group? An impressive sword arm, and an even more rancid attitude.

It was your own fault really for thinking having some alone time together would help you turn that frown upside-down. Make you closer. Something.

But no, here you were, stuck in a damp old shack, leg out of commission as you tried to explain to Nebarra how to make a rudimentary healing poultice.

"Tell me why you can't just do this again?" He sneered.

You rolled your eyes. "Because I dislocated my damn shoulder in that last fight, and my leg is too messed up for me to stand."

The mer pounded halfheartedly on the blue mountain flowers and marshmerrow in the mortar and pestle. "Maybe if you-"

"Maybe if I what? Maybe if I what, Nebs?" You hissed. "Maybe if I hadn't saved your ass, that spriggan wouldn't have left a festering wound in my leg? Hmm?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't realize I'd asked you to jump in front of a twisted, evil tree. Let me just adjust my attitude." Each syllable was punctuated by the pounding of the ingredients. "The last time I checked, I didn't need your dumb heroics."

"Okay, next time I'll let you die. Fine."

"Fine."

He was absolutely impossible.

"Now add a tiny bit of canis root." Not enough to paralyze, just enough to numb and take the edge off as you healed.

He did as instructed, grumbling all the while.

"Let me see it." You said after a few moments.

Your companion held it out to you, and you dipped your finger in, testing the consistency before pulling out your waterskin. "Fill this up a third of the way to the brim, but you have to do it slowly. Mix in a bit at a time."

"Gods, you're picky."

You were going to bite him. Just sink your teeth into his flesh and rip and tear like any good dragon would. "If you don't do this right and it becomes infected and I die, I'm going to haunt your ass. I'm going to haunt your ass and make sure that wine is always out of reach for you. Just break every wine bottle I find with my little ghostly hands."

"You wouldn't dare." Though you couldn't see his face, you could practically feel his glower.

"Don't test me, mal fahliil. Zu'u du hi sili.*" You narrowed your eyes at him, lips curling over your teeth.

"Graxifalas kynd." He shot back. "You're not the only multilingual person in the room."

You hated that you somehow just couldn't manage to get along with this stupid mer. It wasn't like you hadn't tried, and it wasn't even that you didn't like him.... Or at least... you wanted to like him, he just made it so miserably difficult. Fighting you every single step of the way.

After a few moments, the pounding of the mortar and pestle slowed, and he showed you the poultice once more. You gave it the okay when you felt the gentle numbing sensation from the canis root. You held out your hand for him to hand it over, but he just set it down next to your leg and worked on applying it to the wound.

"I can do it..." You said, but he didn't seem to pay you much mind.

"Just like you can defeat a spriggan by yourself? Hmm?" His drawl was grating... and just a bit endearing.

"There were two of them."

"And two of us."

You rolled your eyes. He had a point though; You'd defeated dragons... how the hell were you unable to defeat two spriggans together. Well, you had defeated them, but your wounds weren't anything to sniff at. He began to bind your leg.

"You have very poor form in tight quarters." Nebarra tightened the tourniquet and you winced. "You rely too much on range and being able to shout at things."

A sigh caught in your chest.... He was right. You really weren't great up close. "... Yeah."

"Ohohoho backing down without a fight? Finally admitting you're not some god?" He seemed to admire his handiwork for a moment.

Was that how he thought you saw yourself?

The floor was very interesting. Probably full of splinters.... "... I never said I was a god."

"Oh please, spare me the soliloquy, Dragonborn. You let them call you Dragon-Made-Flesh. The Dragon of the North. The Child of Skyrim." He muttered as he took a seat on the floor a few feet away, each title held more vitriol than the last. "You don't have to call yourself a god. You just let people think it."

You chewed your bottom lip... he wasn't wrong. People had begun to murmur.... You tried to deny it when you could. But it had already started to spiral like a snowball down a hill, gathering strength and momentum.

"Do you even know what those titles mean, Adma'na?"

You finally looked over at him.

"Talos. They think you're the bloody incarnation of Talos. They think you're the reincarnated avatar of a false god." He spat.

You winced again. "... I can't really control what everyone else thinks of me. I've been trying to tell people but-"

"Try harder."

"Look at me, Nebs. Do you think a god, let alone THE Tyrant God-King, would be sitting here, bleeding, at your mercy? I... won't lie; I don't know what I am, but if I am a god, I'm a pretty pitiful one."

Nebarra was silent for a long while, and when he spoke again it was softly. "I'll give you that one. If you are a god, you're pretty pitiful."

"... Did you really think I saw myself as a god?"

He didn't answer.

You looked down at the bandaging on your leg.

"Well... I'm sorry if I led you to believe that.... Thank you for helping me." The corners of your lips curled up in a slight smile. "And for what it's worth, I'm glad you're here."

*mal fahliil. Zu'u du hi sili. - (Dragon-tongue) Little elf. I will devour your soul.

Graxifalas kynd. - (Altmeri) Disgraceful child

Adma'na - (Altmeri) Poor listener

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Nebarra 🤝 Taliesin = not using their real names

They're the smart ones in Skyrim!

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"If you take a desert rose from Hammerfell, it withers."

I cannot express how much i LOVE this line of Nebarra's oh my god, it sends like three songs playing through my head at once, "Desert Rose" by Lolo Zaoui, "Desert Rose" by Sting & Cheb Mami (specifically Faouzia's cover), and "Habibi" by Tamino and oh my god the vibes

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Reblog this and let people describe one of your fics with one sentence.

Which fic they are describing are up to them.

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61 & 63 for the hundred prompts! Maybe Neb/Dragonborn, or any pairing you feel fit :D

61. "It's not hard to read you when you wear your heart on your sleeve."

63. They felt like their mind was slowly losing itself the more they stayed in the same room as that person.

Pairing: Nebarra/LDB (Gender Neutral Reader) Rating: Mature Words: 679 Notes: takes place after the first one shot I wrote for him where the dragonborn flirts with Aicantar, I know you wanted fluff, but it definitely gets a little raunchy (just lots of verbal jabs)

Nebarra fell into step beside you as you left Calcelmo's makeshift lab area to return to the inn. "So... Aicantar, huh?"

You practically jumped, looking at him with a mixture of horror and annoyance instead of that silly, pleasant smile you usually wore when speaking to someone. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Oh please, I know you're not the sharpest arrow in the quiver, but playing dumb doesn't suit you, Dragonborn." He sneered, leaning close and putting an arm around your shoulders almost conspiratorially. "You act like you're so clever, smiling with your honeyed words like you're some mysterious, unreadable paragon. But the truth of it is you're really not hard to read when you wear your heart on your sleeve like that."

You shoved him off. "Shut up."

He just snickered. It was so much fun to rile you up... especially when your proverbial akaviri lap dog was still at the inn watching over your little lizard. Nebarra was sure that massive slab of walking meat would take his hand for invading your personal space if he were here, but he wasn't.

So the mer sidled right up to your side, close enough to jostle you. "What happened to my dear old lizard lover? Let me guess... you found out their scales chafe."

"I'm not dignifying that with a response." You sped up, putting some distance between the two of you.

"Ohohohoho hit that nail on the head, didn't I?" He called out, a sharp smile affixed upon his lips as he matched your pace. He may not have been as tall as most altmer, but his strides were still longer than yours. "Oh, wait, I almost forgot about your shadow. Tell me, did you grow tired of your boring, akaviri, missionary se-"

"Why are you so gross?" You hissed.

"Oh come now, don't be such a prude. He's certainly pretty for a human, I'll give you that, but I can imagine how boring it would get since he practically worships the ground you walk on." He hoped you could hear the smile in his voice. He knew just how grating you found him sometimes, but he wore it like a badge of honor. No one could collapse those silly little walls of yours like he could. And sure, maybe you didn't smile fondly at him with any frequency, but he brought out the cracks in your facade. "I'm sure Aicantar is far more flexible than he is. Or is it that you require a less reverant touch? That you want to be one doing the begging?"

It was near impossible to banish the thought of you begging on your knees....

Maybe this hadn't been the best idea after all.

"Dibella above, I am not having this conversation with you right now. Especially in public."

He crossed his arms, glad you couldn't see the way he was drinking you in. "Would you prefer to have it in private?"

Your cheeks flushed, and you whipped around to face him. "I'd rather not have it at all!"

Letting out an annoyed huff, Nebarra rolled his eyes. "You're no fun. My old merc buddies could take a few jokes. You're all a bunch of prudes."

"That's rich coming from a mer who won't even remove his helmet to drink." You bit back, sinking your teeth in. "Trying to hide the fact that you're as insufferable on the outside as you are on the inside?"

Nebarra was old enough not to fall for the bait. "The curiosity is eating you alive, isn't it, Dragonborn? So used to getting your way that such a little mystery is driving you to madness? Losing your mind over the possibilities?"

You shot him a glare, but their was a heat behind it instead of ice. And then you chuckled. "'Sorry, Honey, the helmet stays on during sex!'"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" He sashayed away, a dangerous smile playing on his lips.

"I- I never said that!" You called out after him. "Stop being gross!"

He just laughed.

He loved driving you mad.

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WIP Whenever-the-fuck

Tagged by @vault-heck! Glad to see I'm not the only one lagging behind!

I dunno why lately, but I've been like... super self-conscious about writing? I never really was before so who knows what my head's decided to be weird about.

Anyway, have some rough draft stuff from Marasa's unnamed fic. I get to write a couple of lushes intimidate the hell outta Lucien by being... them.

“Head to Helgen to get paid in the morning? Don’t know about you but I could go for a drink and a warm bed for once.” Marasa pushed the inn door open, sighing with the rush of cozy air and scent of hearth fire. The place was livelier than she expected from the sleepy town, but she still saw a few free tables, though they were likely sticky with mead. "Was on those bandits' tails for a week."

Nebarra shrugged before dropping into a free seat. “So long as I can get out of this damned cold, I really don’t care.”

“I just don’t see how the Nords can stand it. If I never see Dawnstar again it’d be too soon.” She dropped her pack next to the table. “I’ll go get us some rooms. Want anything while I’m up there?”

“The biggest glass of wine they have, and Gods help them if they’ve watered it down.”

She snorted, shaking her head as she approached the bar. The rooms were spartan but cheap, so there wasn’t room for complaints. Even if she did want to throw the damn bard’s flute out into the storm. Really, the least he could do was learn to play it. If she got enough drink in her, she might even show him how it’s done. And then she’d throw his flute out into the storm. She returned with a bottle clutched in each hand, grimacing at an especially grating squawk from the bard. “Here you are – one bottle of Skyrim’s sorry excuse for wine.”

“No bandit on the menu for you today? Maybe a nice carcass to gnaw on? I thought you Wood Elves didn’t eat plant stuff.” He motioned to her own bottle as she popped the cork.

“Oh, Gods no. I haven’t followed the Pact in ages.” She pulled up her own seat, resting her back against the wall. The place felt like it was getting busier, near crowded. Loud, too. “How, uh… How are you planning to drink that?” He’d made no motion to remove his helm since they arrived.

“Reeds.”

“What?”

“Reeds.” He repeated, pulling out a thick plant stem from his pack and dropping it into the bottle’s opening. He slipped the other end under his helm, wine promptly beginning to drain away.

“O…kay.” If he really insisted on keeping that thing on, she wasn’t going to stop him. She wasn’t his damn mother. Though she was curious how the man would manage to eat anything.