[b]From:[/b] Title of the roleplay
[b]Post Written:[/b] [url=link of the post]Post[/url]
[b]Written By:[/b] [@mention] the writer of the post
[b]Written Words:[/b] The line or paragraph

@Dervish Just that line alone makes me quite intrigued though.

@Greenie Thanks for sharing it with us!

<Snipped quote by BleedingLover>
You're most welcome <3 It's always lovely to share something profound, especially when it's my good friend's writing :3 Glad you enjoyed!

Relyssa audibly gasped and a shuddered breath left her trembling lips as she looked upon it. The way that each individual stone shimmered and glittered under the light of the moon… It was almost too much to handle. Said glimmers lit up the high points of her face - and in turn emphasised a darkness in the hollows of her cheeks, and under her eyes. It made her expression appear almost sinister in the brief second before she placed a shaking finger on the gold frame of the tiara - a moan escaped her and she bit down hard on her lip. “Oh my…” she sighed, taking it swiftly from Alim’s hands.

“You’re a good little thief indeed…” she continued as she paced the balcony with the piece in her grasp, her grip tightening around it, her eyes lost in the carats of the jewels. She hummed, ooohed, and aaahed at it. If one were to hear the sounds without the context, they may have expected the woman to have been in as much of a knot as the couple upstairs… “Oh Alim… Thank you…”

“No,” came the immediate response, blunt and decisive -- or so Narzul liked to think. Truth be told, it was petulant, born from the overwhelmingly frustrating idea that if Narzul had simply been surrounded by Redoran warriors instead, his own people who knew their place (and, more importantly, Narzul’s place), and that if he had a proper suit of armor instead of the low-quality disguise he had stuffed into his chest with disgust, Bleakrock Isle would have been a completely different story. The Armiger’s spear would have glanced off an ebony cuirass and left him unharmed instead of gouging a deep wound into his abdomen. More importantly, nobody would have forced him to be at the vanguard of the party, crossing unstable bridges with mercenaries that looked like they should be dead four times over. He had been a general, for crying out loud, but Dumhuvud had reduced him to a ‘tin can’ without a second thought.

He could see from the look on Sadri’s broken face that the older Dunmer knew all that and was guiding him towards the obvious truth; he was not surrounded by his Redoran allies. Narzul was going to have to learn to make due with what he got and to accept his current place in life. Ashav had made it perfectly clear when Narzul went to properly sign up with the Company that he was just another soldier now, a member of the infantry, and no more. But Narzul’s innate reluctance to accept this was exacerbated by Sadri’s inflammatory tone and extremely disrespectful sarcasm. At the same time, Narzul realised that the only reason he was even listening to Sadri was because the latter wasn’t sugarcoating his words. Niernen had already told him the same things, but he didn’t listen to her. And so it dawned on Narzul why Sadri was so successful at prying open Narzul’s facade; his candidness. Nobody he cared about had dared to be so blunt with him since his time at the garrison as an ordinary guardsman, twenty years ago.

“Perhaps,” Narzul said eventually. His body language softened as he laid the ebony sword across his lap and he glanced away, avoiding Sadri’s face -- he did not need to see the look of triumph that would undoubtedly flit across it. “There’s an old saying that goes as follows: ‘One must row with the oars he has.’ I suppose it’s true,” he added and stared out over the sea.