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18+ The Last Dragonborn

Discussion in 'Skyrim Roleplaying' started by Zelda, Feb 28, 2017.

  1. Zelda

    Zelda Princess of Hyrule

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    With a smile, the knight nodded to the auburn-haired woman before standing. "Thank you Ihylin." She watched as Ihylin left, giving a small sigh. Despite the warmth of their previous conversation, she could tell the pain and worry Ihylin felt for his-royal-pain-in-the-ass.

    The white-haired young woman made her way quickly to the bath, as she was very eager to relax. She did not plan to bathe for too long, as she had this off feeling about everything. It was as if her gut was telling her something was wrong, or something horrible was about to arise. The woman was adamant about trusting herself, but she did not wish to feel that way about the ominous feeling.

    Carefully she stripped herself of her sword, shield, armor and attire, placing it gently on the ground beside her. She prepared the water before slipping in, exhaling a great sigh. It had been quite some time since she last took a nice warm bath, and she was afraid of her body odor from the trip was perhaps noticeable. Closing her eyes she slid down into the bath up to her nose. Warmth embraced her body like a hug.

    Please give him a chance. He lost a lot of what he loved in such a short time.

    Valencia rose from the water quickly, choking on the water she took in from her thoughts. Her white hair strung from the water, her coughs lightly fading as she took deep breaths. She held her chest, not for breath, but for unease. The conversations they've all had... it made her feel like a villain.

    The confrontation and Ihylin standing bravely between them... the brokenness of Valencia's demeanor in front of Ihylin... the almost traitorous-like aggression she gave to Lord Seton...

    It hurt. Her very duty as a knight was to serve and only to serve. Yes, it helped when her heart was big... but now it was getting in the way.

    The usually calm knight splashed the bath water in anger, much a like a child. She had already cried her tears earlier, and had none left. She stared at her reflection, the steam and ripples in the water making her reflection disoriented. With another sigh, she began to wash her body with pleasant smelling soap; quite the opposite to the stench of a foul future of events to occur. The feeling of the crusted blood and dried mud being removed was, however, a great feeling.

    Even with the feeling of being clean and the warmth of the bath, it still felt so cold. She wished not to hurt her friends, and yet... she had to risk it. She would listen intently and honestly to Lord Seton, and hoped and prayed to the Gods that he was innocent. If what he and Ihylin said was true, then she would bring justice to them; finally.

    Once she was done, she dried herself off. Instead of enjoying a bath like one should, she felt like she was imprisoned in her own thoughts, and wished not to be alone with them any longer. Her hair curled tightly - more than the usual tight waves - from the water. She placed it up in her usual messy yet orderly bun and braids. Digging in her small satchel, she pulled out the second set of underclothes, one of the only things in the satchel. Setting her dirty clothes aside, she figured she could wash them tomorrow morning.

    It was a wonderful feeling to place on clean clothes after a warm bath, so it eased her mind for a few moments. Valencia habitually put her armor back on, only realizing afterward that she really did not need to. With a sigh, she grabbed her sword and shield, the light from the candles and torches still lit flickering on the blade. Sheathing the weapon and strapping the shield to her arm, she made her way back to the main room.

    When she entered, she noticed Ihylin and Rolard were not found. Assuming they were chatting alone elsewhere, she took her seat, glancing at a random book left on a nearby table, and decided to read. She had to keep her mind on other things, and she wanted to give them their privacy if they were talking.

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  2. Zelda

    Zelda Princess of Hyrule

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    "Good evening, Princess."

    The moment their eyes locked, fire raged between them. Celica never blinked as the male took his sweet time walking around her, the tension filling the air thicker than the fog of Black Marsh.

    The entire tone of the man quickly and easily put the woman off, and he knew veryyy well how to push her buttons. It was one of many encounters they had made in the past... and his words were true; she was avoiding him.

    As he spoke, she refused to; she bit her tongue, and could taste a small bit of blood before she eased her bite. However, her jaw, posture, and eye contact were still as stiff and tight as ever. She wished not to feed the flames, but she did not know how much longer she could take his royal asshole-ery.

    "As the General alluded to, we've much negotiations to discuss, Princess. I know you and your family have not always been the most welcoming to the positive reform I attempt to bring to the Kingdom of Evermore, despite my changes being for the benefit of all of High Rock's people."

    The princess kept her eyes from rolling but couldn't help but mutter under her breath: "reform... what a joke." As he continued to ramble on lies and honeyed words, everyone in the room seemed to tense... except for the Thalmor present.

    Celica remembered the numerous times Azrael himself had come to visit the kingdom. He already had a few spots in the other kingdoms with ambassadors, but they were still very... unwelcome. However, only a few kingdoms were still left without Thalmor insurgents, and Evermore was one of them.

    He was persistent. Offered security, wealth, prosperity, and other "gifts". Tried to gather the people's desires, the political desires, desires from anyone with say, really. He was cunning, manipulative, and deceiving. The princess was an intelligent woman; praised greatly to those who knew her name in Tamriel for her tactics and problem-solving skills. She easily saw past Azrael's guise and could see his true intentions. She knew what he and the rest of the Thalmor desired. She did her research; and yet, so many are naive.

    As chairs were presented to everyone, the princess dared not sit down. She watched in disgust as he crossed his legs, toying with the foul energy of the room. Her eyes squinted, staring down the elf across the table.

    "I'm afraid you are wrong, Volaire." She spoke in a low tone, daring not to use his title as "Lord". She placed both her hands on the table, leaning slightly, keeping her low and serious tone. "There is nothing more to discuss than the repetition from before. There will be no Thalmor relationships with Evermore. We plan on staying neutral and will continue to do so."

    Her hazel eyes glanced to General Tullius, her lips still frowning profusely. "It is unfortunate that General Tullius has offered to waste your time. I apologize on his behalf." Her eyes met back with the elf's, ignoring the Imperial's discomfort and frown towards her.

    She stood up straight again, placing her hands on her waist. "Unless you have anything... new, to say... which I doubt, speak now or forever hold your peace." Her tone was unwavering, but one could easily tell she was done already and the meeting had just begun. She wished to end it, but had a feeling Azrael would drag it out and/or have something to say.

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  3. Snoball

    Snoball One pretty swell dood

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    "Unless you have anything... new, to say... which I doubt, speak now or forever hold your peace."

    Here we go again.

    Like her parents before her, Celica was proudly resistant to any and all offers made by the sly Altmer. It was a trait that although Azrael respected, it made the Alabora family the biggest wall in his attempt to occupy and wrest control of Evermore.

    An annoyed, half-smirk on the face of Azrael was indicative of his growing frustrations with the princess's unwillingness to cooperate. Although she stood up ready to stand her ground and leave, the night was far from over in Azrael's mind.

    "I thank you for asking that Princess, as I do in fact have something new to bring to this discussion." Azrael then stands up from his seat to meet Celica's gaze, almost as if not wanting to be looked down upon.

    "General Tullius being here is of no coincidence. The situation in question is larger than both High Rock and the Thalmor, it concerns the Empire as a whole. As proud as Bretons are of their own politics and neutrality, at the end of the day, you are in fact under the Imperial Legion's banner." Celica wears a cold expression, still incredibly unfazed by the Altmer's words, but he is determined to force her hand. Azrael signals one of his knights carrying a map to roll it out onto the table in the center of the room. Its contents reveal a political map of Skyrim and High Rock. He then directs Celica's attention to the border of the two nations.

    "It is no secret that the Stormcloaks have certainly turned the tide of Skyrim's civil war since Ulfric Stormcloak's unfortunate escape from his execution. The Imperials are taking in all forms of auxiliary troops they can muster. But I understand your confusion Princess. You wonder, "What does any of this have to do with High Rock and her people?", and that is where I factor in." He walks to a nearby stone shelf. On top of it waiting for him is a scroll, a transcript of the White-Gold Concordant's articles and ultimatums. He unfurls it out next to the map.

    "As decreed by the White-Gold Concordant, all nations that wave the Imperial banner and the Aldmeri Dominion are to agree to an allied peace. We within the Dominion may not directly interfere with the governments of the nations we have made peace with, but we are given a say in how the Imperials soldiers within each nation are distributed in times of conflict."
    He rolls the scroll back up and sighs. Here comes the hard part: getting her to agree.

    "I will make this simple and precise, Princess. There are Imperials officers who still operate in the hills around the Kingdom of Evermore. With your kingdom's close vicinity to Skyrim's Markarth, the Reach requires all the man-power it can muster. We refuse to leave those outposts unattended, and as such the Dominion intend to occupy these locales until its stationed Imperial soldiers return from aiding Skyrim's war effort. I advise this only looking out for Evermore's safety against foreign invasion, Princess."

    After he finishes speaking, Azrael begrudgingly passes the floor unto Celica. Sadly he knows this staunch-hearted Breton far too well. It isn't going to be this easy.

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    #163 Snoball, May 20, 2019
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  4. Keidivh

    Keidivh Noble exile of High Rock

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    Rolard's azure skies never left the skyline that hung heavily over Castle Dour as his fair host burst out of the front door in her typical, elegant style. The lass practically tripped over the contemplative Breton before whipping towards him, looking as if she were about unleash a torrent of words that would cause even Castle Dour's walls to crumble. Whatever words she had for him seemed to die before reaching her lips, instead just staring at him silently. This made him more uncomfortable than her yelling by a long stretch, her hazel eyes conveying a feeling that made his skin crawl. Pity.

    By the gods how he hated it. Everything he had was stripped from him. His lands, his titles, his honor. The only two things he had left in this world were his siblings and his pride, and ex-knight was loathe to surrender either. He couldn't be mad at her for it, he knew she that she genuinely cared. For what reason he honestly couldn't fathom.

    The fiery haired girl spoke with in an uncharacteristically soft manner, making the hardened veteran feel as if he were some child that had skinned his knees. Despite the softness of her words however, they still made his skin crawl.

    Rolard hadn't visited the temple of any Divine since his flight from Akaire. After the sins he had committed, how could he face them? The thought of standing before them with the blood of his mentor, of his kin on his hands was enough to make him feel nearly ill.

    None of this showed however as he simply looked up towards his old friend, an easy smile on his lips. It was a facade that slipped on with such ease it was practically a natural response at this point.

    "I'm not so sure about that Ihly, with the way you scream you could probably shout me to the Temple. You sure you aren't this fabled Dragonborn I keep hearing about?" He let out a dry laugh, struggling to contain a fit of coughing that began to scratch at the back of his throat. The quip momentarily reminded him of his reason to come to this damned city to start with. Information. Gods, it truly seemed like an eternity since he met those two strange women in the Drunken Huntsman. At some point he would have to continue his search, but not now.

    "Aye, I'll go with you. If only because I know you'll never drop the damned subject." Pushing himself up from the chair, pain shot through all of his joints, though Rolard refused to so much as wince due to it. Taking a moment to let the fire in his legs settle, Rolard began trekking his way towards the temple, the castle weighing on him more with each step.

    "So... I trust your talk with dear Lady Valencia went well enough? No plans to run me through with that sword of hers yet?" Dark laughter left his lips as he pushed himself up the slope, pausing only when he reached the gates of the castle. His easygoing attitude melted away for a moment, before the Breton pulled his hood over his head. No need to make things anymore difficult then they already were after all.

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  5. Hart

    Hart Sassmaster

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    Even through everything, he still managed to put on airs. Typical Breton royalty. She wasn't in the mood to be amused, yet she couldn't help the little smile that cracked about the Dragonborn joke.

    And she was relieved, at least, that she wouldn't have to drag him to the temple by the ear. Rather disgruntled that she'd had to scramble off the ground to catch up with him instead, Ihylin punched him in the arm lightly on catching up.

    "Leave a lady in the snow, would you?" With a sigh, she pulled off her bracers, flexing her knuckles against the cold. White scars pinked under the biting chill, and she tucked her arms under her cloak, arms crossed against her ribs, kneading at disfigured skin. These winds always made her scars ache.

    "Valencia has been... placated for now. I offered the opportunity to look through an old box of letters, as some of them might be from you. Figured it would help her get to know your character a little bit better than this... Oblivion cursed trip did. Of course, if that's not what you want, I can always retract that offer."

    Breathing puffing little white clouds in the evening air, Ihylin stretched her gait to keep up with him.

    She'd always had trouble keeping in stride with him, being a few years younger. Teased him, even, on the rare occasions she was able to visit. She recalled, in her teenage years, she'd returned to Highrock for... some or another reason, and nearly gaped at the sight of Rolard when he'd shot up like a green sprout.

    Her thoughts, and a door, stopped her in her tracks. Why was she even so concerned about this anyway? Rolard was an adult, he could handle all of this on his own. That's what she wanted to tell her self, at least. He was capable of handling this mess on his own, but... she couldn't just leave him to deal with it alone.

    With a slight shake of her head, she pushed the doors open, hoping the he hadn't caught on to the blank stare she'd given the door for a few seconds.

    Inside, they were greeted with by cold halls and a warm face. Ihylin let a smile crack as she addressed the priestess before her.

    "Acolyte Freir. Are we bothering you this late in the evening? I was wondering if you'd let us sit for a while, and request services from you? Touching her hand to Rolard's shoulder lightly, Ihylin let her tone soften. "He contracted something during travels, and we were able to rid of most of it. I'd rather make sure that he does not have a reoccurring case of sickness.

    The Nord only nodded slightly, gesturing towards the rows of pews that lined the temples. "Have a seat where you wish, I will be a moment to gather supplies."

    Simple as that, Freir walked off, leaving the two of them in the hollow silence of the temple.

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    #165 Hart, Jun 13, 2019
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  6. Zelda

    Zelda Princess of Hyrule

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    Every sentence that poured from the Altmer's mouth rank of word vomit to the Breton princess. Arthur could feel the tension rising in the room, heat swelling between the two in comparison to the snowstorm that begun outside. Celica never left her gaze on the Thalmor Lord's eyes, and her expression was tantalizingly cold.

    At the beginning, everything he spoke of she was already well-aware of. It wasn't a surprise that he intended on pulling the Empire's playing cards against her. High Rock had been peaceful with everyone externally, and yet they still had wars shoved up their arse. His words strung like honey, dripping over with a sweetness enough to kill a man, sugar-coated with a foul innocence.

    Then he pulled out the damned scroll. The White-Gold Concordant. The very piece of scripture that had been copied and distributed time and time again, only for the Aldmeri Dominion to prove their superiority and make it seem like a peace offering. She knew damn well their true intentions, as they knew that she could care less for the Empire; she only cared about getting rid of Evermore's enemies... the Thalmor included... This required the aid and unification of the Empire.

    Her eyes visibly squinted in disgust at the scroll, wishing she could burn every paper that held those words and dance around the embers. Despite her visual distaste towards the entire conversation, anyone who knew well her knew that she listened to every word muttered from every mouth. She memorized their verbatim and inflections to gather information of not only the subjects shared but of the truths hidden behind them. It was what gave her the grace of communication and charisma that made her a worthy political opponent.

    Once Azrael was done speaking, she smiled briefly, but it was not one of happiness. It was one of a readiness to fight.

    "You are correct, Volaire," she spoke, still smiling at the man. "The Thalmor have say to how and where Imperial soldiers may be distributed... Imperial. Soldiers." She spoke, a grin still on her face. It was gentle, but the fierceness in her eyes were set ablaze. "Not Thalmor soldiers, I'm afraid..." Celica stood taller, removing her hands from the table and placing them behind her back.

    "And these unattended outposts? My my I was unaware of such a fault in security! I thank you for bringing this to my attention! I will personally move the extra Imperial soldiers from the west of Evermore to the east as well as send a few of my men to those outposts. I will also inform the other kingdoms of this matter so we may send more men." She faced Arthur, gave him a smile, and returned to Azrael.

    "As you said, we do need more... man, power. I will be happy to supply those outposts. That way you can place your very busy soldiers in more... problematic areas.... Perhaps here in Skyrim, where the Thalmor units are failing, time and time again, to keep the Stormcloaks at bay?" Her voice taunted the man slightly, but it was mild enough to slip by without seeming immature but harsh enough to strike something in the elf in front of her with truthfulness.

    The one thing that did strike her though - that she waited patiently to dismiss - was the threat of foreign invasion. She was unsure whether it was a jab at The Battle of the Red, so she was cautious. "And on the note of foreign invasion, it is not of your concern. Evermore currently has no threats, and it shall continue to stand that way." With a small bow to the elf, she gave a grin. "Now then, I believe that settles things? Any last thoughts or suggestions?" Unfortunately for Celica, her time was up, and it was now time for Azrael to fan the flames as he usually did, even though she was still trying to push the summit to a close.

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  7. Zelda

    Zelda Princess of Hyrule

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    From the reflection of the fireplace on the windows, she could see snowflakes falling heavier than prior. The biting chill that ran through the gates of Solitude when they entered was the approaching storm, it seemed. Placing the book down, she glanced out the window, placing her warm hand on the cold surface. Gazing her own icy eyes out the glass, she saw no signs of the two friends, but instead footprints in the snow. Valencia had no doubt they were off to someplace together for the time being, and would return due to the cold.

    The memory returned quickly to her. "The letters!" She spoke aloud, turning back from the window. How had she forgotten? Perhaps her own thoughts and the bath took them off track. Quickly she retrieved them and took a seat, feeling the warmth of the fire keep her at ease.

    She found that they were generally organized by date, so she began there. She felt a bit uncomfortable reading such personal information shared between two close friends, but found herself enjoying the letters at times.

    Some moments were sad. Others were joyful. The fact that Ihylin kept them all was a sign of friendship in itself. The letters were crisp and well-taken care of; something a person who found them very important would care for. A smile appeared on her face at the thought as she continued on. The happy letters between friends sharing their adventures had bits of confusion and unanswered questions in them, but seemed to be overlooked. But missing the other side of the conversation is what may be to blame.

    Then the letters became melancholic; sorrow lining the handwriting. The story unfolded in a manner that was filled with sadness, detachment, worry, guilt, and just an overall feeling of loss. What were once conversations about time spent, and she assumed playful yet serious scolding from Ihylin, turned to hopelessness and distance. It all was adding up... and all because a man cared about his family.

    As she closed the last letter, she placed them back in the box carefully the way she found them. With a sigh, she glanced out the window, white snowflakes glazing past from the falling twilight of the evening. "I can't do this..." she murmured to herself. The woman took the chair and turned it around to face the window. She placed her arm on the windowsill, resting her head in her hands as she watched the snowflakes fall. "He was wrongfully accused... they threatened his family..." She continued to murmur to herself, as if to talk with someone else within her head. "Yet he murdered members of Wayrest..."

    Another sigh left her lips as it left a fog on the window. "But... I... what would have I done in that situation...?" Her gaze met with the footsteps that the new snow had almost buried. It was not too heavy of snowfall, but the two had been gone for a while. "I... I don't know..." Crossing her arms, she laid her head on them, the coolness of the windowsill touching her cheek. It felt incredible with the warmth of the crackling fireplace behind her. "I'd... I'd do... what was... right..."

    The snowflakes became hazy as a desire to rest overcame her. It had been a long trip, and despite the warm bath, thoughts had been crossing her mind for quite some time. The easiness of the snow, the warmth of the fire on her body, and the coolness on her face; it called out to her. The thoughts of distress in her mind plagued her desire to rest for so many nights, and here she was, stuck once again.

    But there was something different about this night. It was as if... she really did know what she needed to do, but decided it was time to do what she wanted to do... the selfish thing. Against everything she had done all her life.
    To follow her heart, not the flag of her home. To make things right... even if requires a bit of wrong.

    Finally, rest met with the woman, her unnatural white hair gently brushing the cold window as her head stayed on her crossed arms. Her icy blue eyes were closed, a peaceful sleep easing her as she awaited the return of her friends.

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  8. Keidivh

    Keidivh Noble exile of High Rock

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    The Temple of the Divines. It truly was one of the most magnificent houses of worship in all of Tamriel, a place where one could worship all of the Divines in one place. For most it was a place of respite, a safe harbor where they could escape from the turbulent times in which they lived, if only for a moment. For Rolard however, it was the last place he ever wanted to go. It was one thing going before Stendarr, his patron deity. To feel his judgement upon him so intensely was terrifying, even to a veteran as seasoned as himself. To be before the entire pantheon however, to feel all of their gazes upon them, their disappointment in him. It made him desperately wish he had never woken up from his slumber in the cart. But fate was a cruel mistress indeed, and so here he stood before the doors of the temple, the ornate designs causing his chest to tighten with anxiety. Looking towards Ihylin, he was surprised to see her rather... Hesitant? No, not hesitant. Ihylin had nothing to fear from the gods. So what gave her pause?

    Seeming to realize his gaze was upon her, the fiery haired woman threw the doors open, revealing a surprisingly quiet temple, with only a lone acolyte there to greet them with a gentle smile. Rolards gaze looked far past her though, landing upon the altars that lay on the far end of the sacred structure. While Ihylin walked in, the exile remained rooted to where he stood, the conversation had between the women falling on deaf ears. After some time, the Breton mustered up the courage to step forward, only to be left by the Acolyte, alone with the Divines. Alone with Ihylin. He wasn't sure what terrified him more.

    Neither of them took a seat, the silence in the air emphasizing the uncomfortable situation they found themselves in. This was perhaps the first moment he actually had a moment alone with her, when there wasn't a blade pressed against his chest or on the verge of death. Moving towards one of the oaken chairs nearby, the wood creaking beneath the burly warriors weight. "You know... This is the first time I've been to a temple since I left home." Ah, an excellent way to break this silence. A true silver tongue at work.

    Despite the unease this place left within him, Rolard knew he likely wouldn't be given another chance to speak with Ihylin alone. Events seemed to be unfolding quickly ever since he began his journey towards Solitude, and he doubted he had the luck for it to change anytime soon. "Listen, Ihly. I'm sorry for... Heh, well it feels like the list just keeps getting longer for that." The Breton scratched at the gruff beard he had grown over the course of his travels, trying to figure out what it was he was even trying to say. "When I sent you that last letter, I thought it would keep you safe. Instead I hurt you in a way that will bring me shame for many years." Unlike his typically sarcastic, uncaring tone that defined him, his voice was soft, yet filled with conviction. "And when I saw you between myself and Valencia's blade, I realized I had failed completely. Because even after I cast you aside, you stood by me."

    His voice caught in his throat a moment as he averted his gaze. He hated baring his soul in such a way. It left him weak, and weakness was something he couldn't afford. His family couldn't afford it. But Ihylin, she had earned it. If only a moments worth. "I'm not worthy of your loyalty. I have brought little to your life but pain, and I can't say I'll be able to provide much else than that. Except perhaps..." He fell silent for a moment as he reached into the pouch resting on his side, recalling an unexpected gift he had received from an unusually cultured savage. Holding it forward, he presented to her a token of pure ebony bone. "I can't begin to repay you for what you've done for me Ihylin. For now, this is the best I can offer." Even as he held the gift forward his eyes stared towards the cold stone floors, unable to meet her hazel eyes that seemed to burn through him.
     
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  9. Snoball

    Snoball One pretty swell dood

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    This talk was getting under his skin now.

    While most royals sat on their arses not knowing a damn thing about the laws they enforce, the quick-witted Breton princess knew exactly what the Concordant entailed, even if she lacked enthusiasm over this knowledge. Azrael gritted his teeth as he knew she was right. Imperial soldiers could be moved at will, but without her written insignia or that of the Emperor himself, a Thalmor mobilization of Evermore would be considered treason on the part of the Aldmeri Dominion.

    Celica's words carried the weight of the heaviest stones, stones that aimed to shield her beloved homeland and assert its independence. Azrael looked upon her with a annoyed, deadpan stare. The sound of his fingertips tapping away at the stone table in between them slowly increased in intensity, reverberating in the background as the Breton royal was verbally shooting down the Altmer's attempt at reform yet again. The jab at Skyrim's division of the Thalmor did get a snide grin out of the elf. Elenwen may allow the Empire and the Stormcloaks to run circles around her, but Azrael vowed High Rock would be different under his supervision, come hell or high water.

    She passed the floor back unto the Altmer, who was far from cutting this evening short.

    "I'm afraid to admit I have no thoughts or suggestions to add to this discussion. But rather, a question of my own." He makes sure to meet her fiery gaze once again. "How truly sure are you of Evermore's security?"

    "I will have you know High Rock has not known a peace quite like the one it experiences currently in a long time. Of course it is of no coincidence that this era of peace occurred just as the Aldmeri Dominion began allying itself with your nation's kingdoms. Perhaps a history lesson is in order?" Azrael begins pacing the stone floor of the council room once again, this time counting off with his fingers to detail High Rock's murky history,

    "You do recall the state of High Rock prior to our involvement, yes? Forsworn savages troubling the border for farmers and pilgrims alike. The kingdom of Farrun having to defend its ports from an increasing troop of pirates. Wayrest almost getting sieged by the fugitive Farandar the Strong. The kingdom was certainly not helped by those snakes of House Seton conspiring against its best interests. Unfortunately, even your own kingdom was brought to its knees during the Battle of the Red."

    Azrael's tone drips with a venomous pride. He speaks as though all of High Rock was some unruly wasteland before the Gods sent the Thalmor to their doorstep. His wicked tone is able to be heard beyond the council room, putting his retainer Saphira on alert. From here, Tullius attempts to interject, as to not escalate things off this obvious sensitive subject.

    "That's enough, Ambassador. We're here to sign an agreement and be on our business. I would rather not have to postpone this meeting." With this Azarael assumes his seat once again. "If you would finish as to allow the Princess the floor again."

    "Hmph. Fair enough. I simply ask you to give your people a chance at this gift the Dominion so graciously offers. By refusing AND opting to spread your own forces thin, you invite insurgents who would sooner threaten your rule and the lives of your people, your highness."

    O sweet irony.

    @Zelda
     
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  10. Hart

    Hart Sassmaster

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    The shrine of Kynareth sat quietly in its little nook in the wall. The way candlelight seemed to twist and dim in the hall spooked her in the night, much preferring the bright day, when the sunlight streamed through the stained glass windows, casting colorful wisps of light across the shrines. Even across the empty pedestal that was tucked in with the rest, a testament to the war.

    Truthfully, she'd nearly missed the creak of wooden settling under Rolard's weight. Ihylin wondered if she prayed to Mara, would she be given forgiveness for trying to cast a friend from her life? Would she be allowed to live peacefully? His voice brought her out of her thoughts yet again (how could she be so distracted?), and the woman turned towards him, a tight smile playing across her features.

    "You know... This is the first time I've been to a temple since I left home."

    Now or never, Ihylin.

    "Aye? It's been... a little while then, hm?"

    She took a seat next to him, cold fingers moving to pull her cloak more tightly around her shoulders. The dull silence of the temple stretched between them. When his apology came, the woman couldn't help but snap her gaze towards him, gaping at him in disbelief. Ihylin began to protest in regards to her loyalty, but...

    The shard of bone that lay on his palm made the air in the temple grind to a frigid halt. Everything she had planned to say disappeared in an instant as she let her gaze drift towards his face, and her hands shook as she reached out to collect the fang. Her voice, when she finally managed to find it, barely drifted above a whisper.

    "Sweet merciful Kyne... is this...?"

    @Keidivh
     
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  11. Keidivh

    Keidivh Noble exile of High Rock

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    Seeing the complete awe that overwhelmed his oldest friend brought a small amount of joy to his worn soul. Seeing her reaction made him realize how long it had been since he had made someone feel that way without some ulterior motive. There was always an angle these days, always something he needed out of the recipient of his 'generous' actions. To do something out of the goodness of his heart reminded him of a younger Rolard, a better one. It was someone he would never be again, but to have that feeling even for a fleeting moment was truly wonderful.

    Placing his hand over hers, he steadied her grip around the fang, the bone still seeming to emanate an unnatural warmth through them both. "Our savage friend we met outside the city was kind enough to part ways with this gem. The moment I laid eyes on it I knew it belonged in your hands. It is one of the most magnificent objects I've ever seen, but in your hands... Well, I imagine it can be something much greater."

    Rolard remained quiet for a time, only unclasping his cloak and tossing it around the Nord's shoulders, the chill clearly effecting her more than himself, the cloaks enchantments easily beating back the biting air. "I'm not expecting that to make up for anything I've done. I just want you to know that even despite all that wrongs I've committed, all that I do, I care for you Ihylin. When I recognized you on the roar here, it felt as if I was no longer simply surviving as I had been. As unpleasant as it was at times, my life felt normal. And that terrifies me. Because my life can't be as it was. I can't be who I was, who you knew. Even though I wish I was, because that man was better to you."

    His eyes finally met her own hazel orbs, sorrow and conviction evident within them. "But I can't afford to be him. My family can't afford it."
     
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  12. Hart

    Hart Sassmaster

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    Gently letting her hands fall open, Ihylin inspected the fang with no shortage of amazement on her features, marveling in the subdued heat the bone gave off. Dragonbone. She'd been searching for it ever since the dragons had begun to reappear, searching in her travels for the one who could slay these creatures with ease. But, this? This fang lay across her palm end-to-end, only slightly dulled by age and use.

    When Rolard moved, Ihylin jumped at the settling of heavy cloth around her shoulders. The bite of chill in the air dissipated, her hands no longer trembling from the cold, but from the heavy weight that had taken root in the bottom of her ribcage. She felt as if she were to be the one to thank him, a gift that she had sought after in the time of the dragons rising. Despite that, the woman managed a shaky exhale. With his praise, Ihylin couldn't help the flush of color rising up her skin.

    "Even so... How could you care for a Nord who shivers with the slight breeze in a temple?" she joked. "Bloody Breton nobility. Always chivalrous and kind." Ihylin's voice held no barb, even as she continued.

    "Rol... you speak of yourself as if the ghosts of your past have come to life. Perhaps, in some way, they have for you, but... I won't lie. Normalcy can be frightening. I will not fault you for that. And you've been surviving, to keep yourself alive, and your family alive. You've done what needed to be done. In the face of the hatred and torment you've received, you've endured. You're alive."

    With a small smile, she turn her head up to look at him, nudging her shoulder against his own. "You've survived, Rolard. Sometimes that just all we can do."

    And so in the Temple of the Divines, under the watchful eyes of the Aedra, Ihylin couldn't help but feel at peace, truly. It was a quiet moment between friends, and gift and insight shared. Of course, the peace didn't last all that long, Acolyte Frier bustling down a side set of stairs with an armful of little potion bottles.

    Ihylin held back a little laugh when the woman started fussing over Lord Seton, asking of his symptoms and current aches, trying her damnedest to poke and prod to figure out the best remedy. Luckily, Ihylin decided to step in when Frier began asking a bit more... personal questions, selecting a few bottles that would do the trick, and sending the other along her way with a little satchel of coins.

    Chuckling, she shook her head. "Acolyte Frier has always been helpful to me, especially when I get some nastier burns. Though, she tends to be... a tad overbearing. Here, Rol. Drink these, it'll get rid of those aches you've got. What? You walk about as stiff as a board when you get sore."

    Handing him off the bottles, Ihylin finally decided to tuck away the fang in her satchel, wrapping the bone in soft leather. "I'm worried that I won't be able to figure out the properties of the bone and destroy it in the processes, but... at times, that is necessary to better learn that you work with. It's the same for just about anything. Without failure, there isn't progress. How you handle that progress is what moves you forwards.

    "We shouldn't stray too much longer. It's getting late in the evening and I'm sure they want to close the doors for the night. I'd like to at least give tribute to the gods. Perhaps, even if I don't give a lot, the Ni- Eight--Eight will smile upon me with a blessing. No matter how small."


    Standing up quickly to hide her discomfort at the slip-up, the woman paced towards the alcoves, already shuffling in her hip bag for what she had to spare. For Kynereth, a feather, Dibella, a bit of shimmering river rock, Mara, a dried mountain flower, Zenithar, a diamond in the rough, too small for her to use in her work.

    Clearing her throat, Ihylin looked back at Rolard and smiled. "Would you like to pray with me for a moment?"

    @Keidivh
     
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  13. Zelda

    Zelda Princess of Hyrule

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    The moment Azrael admitted to not having any other words on the subject, Celica could not help but let a small smile slip upon her lips. It was far too early, however, as he changed the subject to something rather… personal. A question laced in venom struck the princess as her hazel eyes squinted. Her fists clenched as her loyal knight watched in an unseen terror beneath his calm face.

    She was not near the anger of a hot-headed person; but, when it came to conversations like these, her blood boiled with a seething rage. He recalled the recent and not-so-recent happenings of High Rock; he knew the history, and he tried to teach her like she was some foreigner to her own lands. With this she bit the inside of her cheek until the metallic taste of blood tinged her taste buds.

    Then the familiar phrase stabbed her in her chest, a pain pulsating through her very core. The Battle of the Red.

    General Tullius attempted to interject, trying what little he could to deescalate the situation, but it seemed to no avail. The Thalmor Lord continued to press the woman’s buttons until she had enough.

    a slam echoed through the halls from the princess's hands on the table. The room became instantaneously silent. Her head was lowered, her braid hanging at her side.

    She still blamed herself for her mother’s death during The Battle of the Red. She told herself she wasn’t strong enough, and because of her reluctance to run, her mother was killed. Her father and her mother during her dying words did not want Celica to blame herself; but, how could she not? Her dearest mother fell, and left a scar on the lands forever in history. The battle itself was horrible enough on its own.

    But in the end, it was Celica’s wisdom, tactical genius, and undying determination that won them the siege. The insurgents lost… and it wouldn’t be the last time.

    “Evermore is an independent kingdom from the Aldmeri Dominion, and it will continue to be. Your gifts are not necessary.” She finally lifted her head, her hazel eyes burning with undying flames. “My people trust me with their lives, and I would not be here if it was otherwise. The decisions I make are not for myself, but for my people; even the decision of refusing your 'gifts'.”

    Her head swung to face General Tullius, the frown still burning on her cold face. “My apologies, but this meeting is postponed until tomorrow. Send me a time that best suits you both. Goodnight.”

    She stood up from leaning on the table and without a chance for either to respond, she began to walk out the corridors with Arthur by her side. She had to leave, for even she could feel tears burning her eyes as they tried to escape. She was never one to run from a fight; this was only a temporary retreat, and she would be ready tomorrow to finish the battle... once and for all.

    @Snoball
     
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  14. Snoball

    Snoball One pretty swell dood

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    After taking her stand, the war room lay silent following the Princess's self-dismissal. Tullius, just like Celica, wanted nothing more than these talks to be over with and for this pompous Altmer to be out of their hair. Presumably getting a headache, the Imperial facepalms into his right hand and lets out an elongated sigh.

    "General of the Imperial Legion? Pah... they don't pay me enough for this. Feel free to dismiss yourself, Ambassador."

    With this the general gets up from his stone seat and retires to his quarters. Azrael, still without words, is shown out of the room by two legionaries and rejoins Saphira outside Castle Dour. She bears witness to the glum look upon his face, knowing full well tonight was not their night. She nods and the pair make their way to Solitude's Thalmor Headquarters.

    "The stench of failure is not the best look for us, I must admit. But I'm not going to win this game by showing my entire hand. Not yet anyway." The two brisk along the stone path alone, lit solely by the twin moon's glimmer. Saphira climbs the cobble steps ahead of Azrael to open the door for him.

    "However long it takes. My sword arm is yours, always." Saphira's unwavering loyalty puts a grin on the face of the Thalmor Inquisitor. She locks the door behind them once they have entered, and proceeds to head to her quarters.

    "Saphira, before you go. Have our guests been invited already?"

    "They're on on-route, my lord. Early morning- give or take."

    A wicked smile adorns the Altmer's face once more. He dismisses his retainer for the evening while Azrael heads upstairs to his quarters to prepare for the following day as well.

    "Outright killing you would be far too simple, Princess. No, for tomorrow, a small appetizer for the feast that is yet to come."

    @Zelda
     
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  15. Keidivh

    Keidivh Noble exile of High Rock

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    Azure eyes merely rolled at Ihylin's kindhearted quip about the chivalry of Breton nobility. Indeed they were chivalrous, at least in public. But kind? Heh, that is a word that rarely applies to our breed.

    He expected her next words to be less kind, to scold him for how he had wronged her, say how disappointed she was in the man he had become. That she never wished to lay her amber eyes upon him again. Yet he heard none of this, instead given kindness. The Breton could help but give her a queer look, his azure eyes in a state of disbelief as they glowed in the dimly lit temple. She... She understood? Understood that everything he had done, was only so he could ensure the survival of his family. No matter the cost, they would live. So far, the price had been high.

    Hearing these gentle words, Rolard expected some great weight to be lifted off of his shoulders. That the guilt he carried within him would fade away, if only slightly. But the same hollow feeling that seemed to fill him these days remained. He wanted to believe her words so badly. To convince himself that he was in the right, that his sins were justified. But he couldn't. No matter how much he wished it to be so, he knew. Perhaps Ihylin didn't truly comprehend what her honorable childhood friend had become. Perhaps she didn't want to accept it. He couldn't blame her, but it left him feeling that much more estranged.

    Thankfully before he could respond the acolyte returned, and began to inspect him as if he were one of the Afflicted. Poking and prodding at him from every angle, asking questions both relevant and inane. Compared to this, perhaps being one of the Afflicted wouldn't be so bad. I already proved I can play the part.

    When she asked him how his sickness affected his... Intimate activities, Rolard was prepared to walk out of the temple, though his fiery haired companion took note of his discomfort, ushering the doting lass away with some coin.

    "Tch, overbearing would be a bit of an understatement, though it is a tad bit ironic coming from you." An easygoing smile was given to her as he made his jest, though it felt forced.

    Part of him wanted to express his frustration, to shake her to her senses, to make her understand that the things he had done couldn't just be forgiven. And yet she seemed so happy, more at peace than he had seen her the entire journey. No, he couldn't take that from her, she deserved that much. So he simply smiled.

    Relief washed over him as it seemed they were to depart, but then she made her way towards the altars and called for him to do the same. His heart thundered in his chest as he made his way towards her, sweat clear on his brow as he neared. By the time he had approached the altar of Stendarr, it took everything in his power not to collapse. Unsheathing his sword, he placed the tip of Saphfire against the stone floor, a small clang echoing through the silent chamber as he knelt down. Head bowed low, Rolard prayed for the first time in years.

    "Blessed be the name of Stendarr, the God of Mercy, the Great Judge."

    He strengthens and unifies his Resolutes through his wisdom and blessings.

    He calls us by day to train with sword and shield to strengthen our might; and by night to pray in his name to strengthen our souls.

    He takes pity upon us, his humble servants, and grants unto us mercy.

    His wrath falls upon the wicked, purging them from his sight, granting unto us justice.

    His holy light of truth will cast out the forces of darkness and rain justice upon Daedric abominations.

    Glory shall be his, forever."


    For a time he remained on his knee, waiting for something. Some sign from his patron. Yet deathly silence was the only response he received. Standing once more, he wordlessly sheathed his sword before stepping away from the altars.

    "Shall we return my lady? Wouldn't want to make Valencia think we were off flouncing about town now would we." He did well in hiding the shakiness of his breath.
     
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  16. Hart

    Hart Sassmaster

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    Ihylin couldn't help the twitch of her mouth as he rose from his prayer, his offhanded comment meant to dispel the yawning silence that filled the temple. So instead she forced a little smile with an agreeing noise, her fingers rising to undo his cloak from her shoulders. Stubborn he was, and still she ignored his protest regarding having the article returned to him, having to stand on the tips of her toes to toss it across his shoulders in a relatively correctly position.

    The woman chided him gently against the dangers of the cold in Solitude. This was rather out of habit, she realized, absently standing at his front and fastening the ties to ward off chills. She remembered this.

    "Roll your sleeves up, for the love of Mara! This is the third time you've set them on fire. Doesn't your mother have enough to worry about?"

    The days were beginning to bleed into the Fall, the two of them having made their way to an outdoor training yard while the adults were over where ever they happened to be, discussing business as usual.

    Ihylin was right, it had been the third time Rol had set his sleeves on fire. The first time, both of them panicked, and the girl tossed a bucket of icy water on him, putting out the small blue flames that'd caught his clothing.

    The second time, she laughed while he patted out the flames on his sleeves, doubled over from her own amusement and gasping for air.

    The third? She'd had another bucket of water prepared, dousing the flames almost immediately and calling him an idiot.

    She'd had enough. Marching right over to him, Ihylin ignored his fussing and rolled the sleeves into neat little cuffs just below the elbow. Now she just hoped he wouldn't burn himself.


    The woman found herself staring at nothing in particular when the memory passed, the embroidered details of the cloth that was in front of her face in fine focus. She was exhausted, disheveled, hungry, and still rather dirty from the trip, her addled brain working in slow motion to process the scene that was quite literally right in front of her. Ihylin found herself lingering there, hands working to smooth out a little creases in Rolard's cloak. That is, until it clicked that she was practically petting his chest for however long she'd been standing there.

    She pulled her hands away as if she'd dipped them in hot coals, turning on her heels and nearly walking straight into the first row of pews. Pulling the hood of her own cloak up rapidly, Ihylin adjusted the fabric to hide her face.

    Mortified, her skin was ten shades darker of embarrassed blush. Wishing she'd sink into the floor and never return to the light of Nirn again, Ihylin's voice cracked when she spoke.

    "I think that's a great--idea. No flouncing, none at all. I'm rather tired, Seton. Ought to get some rest, figure it all out in the morning, yes."

    Speech reduced to ramblings, Ihylin guided herself out the door, letting Rol follow as he pleased. Oh, she was never going to hear the end of this. Letting her feet carry her back a familiar path home, Ihylin lapsed into silence. There was a wind picking up from the north, the skies clear and free from the winding ribbons of the Northern Lights. Instantly, she missed them. They were the one thing that could guide her back to Solitude if she lost her way.

    Up the steps, with her hand on the door she paused. Rolard wasn't far behind, at least. A deep breath to steady herself, Ihylin pushed back her hood and turned her gaze toward him. This time, she could blame the chill for flushed cheeks.

    "You know... the trip up here was less than pleasant. But it's something to say how fate works. It brought us back together, as cruel as the circumstances are. But I wanted to make it clear that you're welcome to stay as long as you need, Rol. What's in the past is in the past. It can't be changed." Her tone softening with her expression, the woman sighed. "You can't change the past. But you can certainly change what's ahead. I'm hoping you'll be able to understand that."

    With a half-hearted smile, she pushed the door open into the hall of her home, certainly not expecting the sight of Valencia sleeping against the windowsill. Huffing a breath through her nose, Ihylin took on the role of a good host and wound down the house for the night. With a gentle nudge she woke Valencia, guiding her upstairs into the small bedroom that had been half converted into a workshop. Downstairs again, she wrenched a little cot out of some dusty corner, laying with in a feather stuffed pad to lessen the burden of an uncomfortable bed with a mumbled apology, and setting it in the little nook that was her greenhouse. Well. At least the room had a door.

    She'd let Rolard settle himself in, at least, eager to head towards the cellar and straight into a bath. The water was lukewarm now, a muttered complaint rising into empty air when she clambered in, nearly scrubbing herself pink in an attempt to rid her skin of the feeling of constant filth. This, at least, would let her sleep tonight. She'd finish the rest of her routine in the morning.

    The worst part was leaving the water. Goosebumps exploded across her skin when she hauled herself out, hurrying to get dressed, teeth chattering the entire time, so loud she thought she might wake Valencia on the third level. Nevertheless, Ihylin managed to fish out a heavy nightgown and wool socks, padding into the kitchen area near silently to put the kettle on. Her mind was filled with a constant buzzing sound that often occurred when she was awake far too late, but with the extra excitement, it seemed to have accumulated into a dull roar.

    Night air helped at least. The clearness providing a sense of clarity, Ihylin sighed in the cold air, her tea and her breath sending up little puffs of steam. Shuffling down the steps, snow gathered around the leather shoes she'd slipped on to sneak outside, and she leaned against the outer pillar of the building.

    It was quiet. No one was on the streets at this time of night. Glancing toward the stars, she figured it was somewhere close to 2AM. Most would be in their beds, or stumbling out of the Winking Skeever on the other side of the city. At least she didn't have to worry about a drunk passing out on her doorstep.

    So she closed her eyes, letting her head rest against the stone, and relished being alone in her silence.

    Or...

    Maybe not.

    It was a peculiar sight, seeing an Argonian out here. In the far North. At 2AM. Staring rather fondly at the clump of moss that'd been growing around the cellar door.

    Clearing her throat, Ihylin spoke up. "Pardon, can I help you?"

    @Keidivh @Zelda @Specter of Death

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  17. Specter of Death

    Specter of Death the Undead Omnipresent Moderator
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    "Pardon," the voice chimed out to my right, "can I help you?"

    She leaned against one of the pillars that dotted the porch of the building and stared at me with eyes half bewilderment and half confusion. The woman was dressed in a woolen nightgown, slippers, and other ordinary evening attire, and her auburn hair curled with moisture as if she had just finished bathing. Her skin was fair and though her face had a tinge of friendliness about it, any warmth she may have had was not being worn that night.

    It is rather late, I thought to myself, realizing the ridiculous manner in which I was sniffing about her property.

    "Oh I," I stammered, trying to form words to reply with, "I'm terribly sorry, ma'am."

    My chin dropped to my chest, and my gaze met my boots. What was I doing with myself? Of course, the children had no chance of being my siblings, but I got my hopes up--like always. Thoughts of what could've been happening to Tiber and Alyssia were just screaming in my head, louder than any other thought. I knew that trying to sleep while my mind raced would only lead to nightmares and exhausting days for me to follow. So I went out to walk and clear my head. Deal with the anxieties dancing around my brain. Next thing I knew I was picking flowers and tearing bits of moss off of gravestones. Getting transfixed by the perfect formation of simple hanging moss off of strangers' houses.

    "You see, your property is a breeding ground for some of the best Hanging Moss I've seen in all the North, with the exception of maybe Winterhold," I placed an awkward hand behind my head, releasing an anxious grin upon my face, "I simply got caught up in how wonderful some of the potions I could make with it would be."

    My eyes glanced back at the moss for a moment, before dancing on the woman and the road leading away from her. Not only had the moons been high in the sky by then, but they were far past their highest point in the sky at that point--jabbing me in the stomach with the realization of just how late it actually was.

    "Doesn't matter at this time of night, though," I spoke, clearing my throat and letting my demeanor become more seriously apologetic, "I'll be on my way now, my apologies again for disturbing you, miss. Have a good rest of the evening."

    I started toward the main gate of the city, but turned my gaze back at the moss once more, letting my eys linger for a bit before trying to tear myself away once more.
     
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  18. Hart

    Hart Sassmaster

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    "Hold it, Argonian." Her voice held no malice when she spoke, but it was clear the exhaustion was straining what little energy she had left. Being raised in the Imperial City left her with no shortage of manners and good hosting. So with the barest of smiles, she continued.

    "I haven't much need for the moss idling by my door. Come back in the morning, and you may have it. Just seems a bit late, and a bit cold to be out here doing anything. I can say the same for myself. So good night, Argonian. Feel free to stop by in the morning hours. Just... knock on my door first."

    And with a little wave, she turned and made her way back inside. It was blessedly warmer inside, at least, and Ihylin managed, just barely, to crawl into her own bed and fall into a dreamless sleep.

    @Specter of Death @Zelda @Keidivh

    [[there you go folks, one short and sweet to start the day]]
     
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  19. Specter of Death

    Specter of Death the Undead Omnipresent Moderator
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    Dreams of my siblings filled my mind. Almost as fast as my head hit the straw pillow I had fashioned, it was filled with the fantasies only deep sleep could bring. What it would have been like if the children I had been waiting months for had actually been them. What the journey back home would be like. What home would feel like without mother and father. How difficult it would be to rebuild whatever life we could after so long. Dreams quickly turned to frantic, sweaty night-terrors. Tossing and turning me about restlessly most of the night. Like most nights did.

    I woke in a daze, eyes clouded and hazy, body aching, head fuzzy. It took me near half an hour to prepare myself for even getting out of bed, let alone bathing and dressing. It was a mindless morning, as were most for me at that point, but even the morning minutia of that Solitude overhang had its high points. That morning's hight point happened to be the words of a stranger mere hours before.

    "I haven't much need for the moss idling by my door. Come back in the morning," her voice was patient, "and you may have it."

    There weren't many things that could get me giddy like high-quality reagents could. Maybe it was the lack of overall appreciation for them throughout Skyrim, or perhaps just that I was a little overly-selective with what I used. Either way, I was moving at twice any person's normal pace to accept the gesture she had made. It was rare for me to come across such things so easily nowadays. Plus, who knew what could come of it, and what did I have to lose in making some small talk with a new face or two? Anything would've been a welcome distraction from the thoughts my mind had been wrestling with overnight.

    @Zelda @Hart @Keidivh
     
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  20. Zelda

    Zelda Princess of Hyrule

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    With a yawn, the kind knight of Wayrest opened her eyes to unfamiliarity. Sitting up quickly, she found herself not where she last remembered. After rubbing her eyes in thought, she could faintly recollect walking elsewhere in the night with guidance. Without recollection of even going to sleep, she assumed she had dozed off awaiting Ihylin and Seton's arrival. Exiting the room, she could see the warm glow of the morning sun welcoming the new day.

    Unfortunately, this was judgement day for Valencia and Lord Seton... and she had made up her mind.

    Feeling rather hungry, she decided to head to the market to purchase breakfast ingredients before anyone else awoke, as she seemed to go to sleep the earliest in the night before. Fixing herself up, she made she she was presentable and ready for the day before heading out.

    Making her way down the streets, the white-haired young woman could see that the city was already beginning to bustle. The markets were open, shoppers browsing, messengers rushing about, soldiers going to and from stations, children bothering their parents to play already. Chimneys smoked with the smells of morning breakfasts and the clatter of horses carrying wagons of goods traversed.

    Faces of all kinds walked briskly to their destinations, giving the shining knight glances of slight familiarity to the crest of Wayrest that shone on her shield, sheath, and chestplate. She saw mostly Nords and Imperials, a few Altmer here and there, and even a few Argonians, one of which seemed to be in quite the hurry. She continued on, reaching the marketplace.

    Browsing through various goods, she finally found a few ingredients. Salt, eggs, chicken, bread, milk, butter, tomatoes, and apples. Glancing through her gold, she could see that the grant she was given to support her during the "mission" was running low. Her time was ending in Skyrim anyway, which brought a tinge of sorrow to strike her heart once again. She had duties to return to, but it hurt her that she would have to leave her friends behind.

    Funny. And all she ever wanted to do before was return home. And now, she was obligated to. To return as the royal guard, and confess her love for the prince.

    Heaving the basket from Ihylin's home that was now filled with goods, she began her way back to the house to begin preparations for breakfast.

    @Hart @Keidivh @Specter of Death
     
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  21. Zelda

    Zelda Princess of Hyrule

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    The morning sun greeted the princess with warmth; with what was usually a smile of a greeting was dread from her instead. She wanted nothing to do with that damn elf. All he did was cause trouble and she wanted nothing to do but escape from it. Celica had no choice, however. She was cornered. But she would not give in. The princess continued to crack with news of the Thalmor, day after day, month after month, year after year. She was at her tipping point, and was ready to burst.

    The maids helped her get ready, her armor tight and polished as if ready for an impending battle. A smile was not present as she thanked the ladies and they headed out. Walking out to the balcony, she looked towards the sun to see the various hues of pinks and oranges. She remembered the phrase her mother taught her as a child when she wished to play outdoors; "Pink at night, sailor's delight... pink at morning, sailor's warning." And of course, every bright pink sunrise brought thunderstorms. It was apparent that, despite the sight of any looming clouds, a storm would arrive at some point in the day.

    Knowing a storm was brewing within herself, she turned around to face the west. The light danced upon the mountains of her homeland. While she could not see Evermore, she could see High Rock calling out to her. "Do not worry, Mother... I will do everything I can... for Father... for our home...-" "Celica?"

    With a jump, the frightened woman spun around to find her appointed knight, Arthur, behind her. "M-My apologies, I did not mean to startle you, Princess." "It's fine." She spoke quickly, pushing the hair out of her face. "It is time for breakfast, yes?" "Yes. Then not too long after we will make our way to the meeting with ...Azrael." The hazel-eyed woman looked back to the west, and could see small clouds she did not see before. The storm was already brewing, and the sun was an illusion. "Of course. Let's make our way to the dining room then, shall we?"

    @Snoball
     
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