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4 yrs ago
Wishing a relaxing weekend for everyone. Take some time to be kind to yourself, to unwind, and to have some rest. <3
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6 yrs ago
I ate a brownie once at a party in college. It was intense. I felt like I was floating. Turns out there wasn't any pot in the brownie. It was just an insanely good brownie.
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6 yrs ago
There was an explosion at a cheese factory in France. De-Brie everywhere.
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Bio



that elder scrolls / mass effect roleplayer

I put a spell on you

“I am nothing in my soul if not obsessive.”



Most Recent Posts

Aaand post made. @Stormflyx, just so we're clear, would it be cool if Settionne spoke with Aeryn privately at some point relatively soon?


Of course!

We've been planning that one for a while, I'll get a reply done for Aeryn at the pub and throw you a link for a collab? :)

@BCTheEntity
Curiouser and Curiouser!


with a sprinkle of @Dervish

13th of Midyear - Gilane Town Square




Somehow, through wandering, Raelynn had stumbled upon the town square of Gilane. A place she couldn’t recall ever having been. Despite the amount of time spent in Gilane - it was as if it had all been spent in the markets… How strange that she should find such a relaxing place at the heart of Gilane, just through walking. There were several cosmopolitan looking tea houses and cafes scattered in a circle, surrounding a beautifully ornate looking pool of water in the very centre. As she walked towards it, she could see an Altmer woman sat at the edge of it, a coin in her hand which she tossed into the water with a dainty little splash. A curious custom, she thought to herself - although it did look rather comfortable...

The Breton sat on the edge of the pool, where the Altmer woman had been, taking a break to rest her feet again, the bag of journals placed at her side. Her eyes kept darting to one that sat on top - and eventually, her curiosity got the better of her, and in the comfort of the quiet crowd, she picked up the journal and opened it… Starting with the very first entry...




13th Rain’s Hand 4E208

Tomorrow’s the big day.

It took a lot of my own personal finances, what was left of it anyways, and the ruin has been rather inconvenient to reach up here high in the Jerall Mountains, but all of the misgivings about the journey faded when I first saw what lurked beneath the surface; this is easily the largest Dwemer ruin ever to be discovered, and even with the army of workers Rhea Valerius enlisted for this pursuit, you could spend years cataloging every inch of this place and still have secrets to discover. I’m pretty sure there’s something valuable lurking below; I feel it in my blood. In this line of work, you learn to trust your instincts. They keep you alive and they lead to a prize.

That said, I’m not sure about the others Rhea’s hired on for this expedition scheduled for tomorrow. Most aren’t scholarly types, or even appear to be experts in the field. At least Judena Callisar is with us, thank Alkosh, she’s been a good friend to me for years now and is one of the few people I know for certain is an expert in this field. It’s been good catching up with her and discussing what’s already been discovered; it’s keeping me focused and from dwelling on people like Durantel, who I am confident isn’t a Thalmor spy because he acts so overtly like you’d expect someone who spews Altmer supremacy to act, or that Alim fellow who I’m pretty sure knicked a lot of personal property, but he squirrels it away well...

Point being, I barely trust these people to be able to lace up a pair of boots on their own, let alone not set off a trap or activate some automata because their abilities of observation are so bad that it’s a wonder they escaped childhood alive and with all of their limbs intact. Oh well, they go down, I get a bigger pay cut and a better claim to any artifacts that Rhea doesn’t claim. She’s the one funding the expedition, and I am a professional.

I may not get first choice of whatever’s discovered, but the size of this place… there’s almost certainly something worth immeasurable value to acquire.





Interesting, so Daro’Vasora had an existing friendship with Judena. The mention of Alim brought a smile to Raelynn’s lips, and she realised she hadn’t seen her friend since the party. She hoped he was keeping well - perhaps he and Anifaire had been spending time together. She hoped, whatever it was he was doing, he was happy.

So strange to read of Durantel - he had all but gone missing entirely lately. Not that Raelynn had said even a word to him. He seemed to stuck up even for her liking. By the God’s, she felt that he was twice her size too. The Khajiit was right to have such a disliking of him...




I’m honestly concerned about making ends meet; normally I don’t work with more than a handful of people I can keep an eye on, being in a big expedition like this is unheard of. Not only does it make your cut shit if you don’t find anything valuable, or a number of artifacts, but it does nothing for your reputation when your name is 20th down a list. I just had no time for the research or acquiring funding for travel; it’s been three months since my last expedition, and even the last one was already a somewhat well-known barrow that was largely picked clean. La’Shuni is coming to Imperial City next month, and it’s been years since I’ve seen her. I want to show her how successful I’ve been on my own, to be able to pay for her travel expenses and make her stay with me one she’ll cherish for years. I don’t want to say that I can’t do something for her because I’m broke; I know her, she’d tell me that all she cares about it spending time with me, but that’s not good enough. I want her to have her first visit to the capital to be something incredible, so she’ll admire me and aspire to be more than just a girl who follows in mother and father’s footsteps.

I’m happy with my life, I am, I just miss my family and I don’t want her to feel like I’m a disappointment or that finding your true calling in life only leads to ruin. I can’t give her the wrong impression; this expedition will help me take care of her and show her that a future doesn’t have to be what your family says it should be.

She’s counting on me.

This is why I cannot fail.





The Breton found herself getting choked at her friend’s sentiment - her resolve, her hope. A pang of guilt followed. These were her innermost thoughts, and Raelynn was absorbing them for entertainment. Or was it something else? She had never quite understood Daro’Vasora, she hadn’t wanted to be her friend - it wasn’t all that long ago that they were at each other’s throats wearing fake smiles around her father’s table. These words and emotions were not for her eyes, and Raelynn placed a hand on her heart and clutched. She could never go back to not knowing this information.

She closed the journal and placed it back in the bag, stopping to take a look around her. Gilane was a jewel of a city, and yet so tainted. It had taken so much from her, and yet - given her so much too. She’d made a friend in the Khajiit, fallen in love with Gregor, grown closer to Alim, Jaraleet, and beautiful Latro. She’d seen her father for the first time in years. She’d found a strength within herself.

She thought of Mazrah - the orc who had joined them, just because. Truthfully, she had paid no mind as to why Mazrah had joined them. But it had been Daro’Vasora, hadn’t it? She had helped Mazrah in a scrape and then Mazrah had joined them. Raelynn would never have been able to convince the warrior Orsimer to join them in such a way. She found herself chuckling at just what she herself would have to offer to get her on board…

And Shakti, young Shakti - she had been freed from her prison because Daro’Vasora brought them here to join the Poncy Man’s insurgency. In a way, Shakti had been liberated because of Sora.

She pulled the journal back up, and flicked to another page...




30th Second Seed 4E208

Rhea’s dead. It’s been chaos for so long, I haven’t had the time or heart to write in this damned thing, but I realize that chances are, I’m going to die suddenly and I want people to know what happened. I need to let my family know what happened, the reason they’ll never see their daughter again. Mara, I miss them. Keep them safe, keep them free.

The Aldmeri Dominion attacked Anvil with a fleet; we barely escaped with Roux Dupris, a face I never thought I’d see again, nor want to. After they bloodlessly took Skingrad (unless you count the Count) and relieved the refugee crisis, they took the Imperials trying to retake the city as a provocation of war and they already had their damned fleet ready to go. Rhea was killed by infiltrators, but it was quick. She died with a smile on her face… she was just so happy we didn’t forget her, that we cared enough about her to include her in our group after I so soundly rejected her and blamed her for everything.

It wasn’t fair. I’ve spent time with her body, thanking her for what she did, begging for forgiveness. It’s weird, caring so much of the opinion of a corpse of a woman who I hated even up until her death, but now I feel more of a kinship to her than ever before. I really could have done better… should have done better. I nearly ruined everything I had going for me. Zegol was murdered by the Dwemer, the Imperial City was conquered and occupied in the course of a day. My life work, gone. I nearly lost Latro because I’m a fucking child who doesn’t know how to be a decent person, and I nearly abandoned Judena. She wouldn’t know where I would have gone, and every morning she would have looked for me until she eventually figured it out.

I can’t do that to her, I can’t do that to him, I don’t have anyone else.





Once more Raelynn stopped. This was simply too much, she traced her fingers over the page - where the quill had met the parchment and she could feel the indentation, the force with which Daro’Vasora had applied to write the words. They were scratched in, until they fell softer - barely there. Their weight so heavy they could land without so much as an effort. Her heart yearned for the Khajiit now, how much she had done for them, how it had taken its toll. She could see it clear as day on the page. She thumbed at the words, as if by doing so would connect her to her imprisoned friend.

“I see now…” she whispered, willing herself to finish what she started.




I don’t know how people can need or want me after everything I’ve done, and right now, people are looking to me for answers, and I’ve been doing my best to give them. I try to look like I’m in control, that I’m confident in things working out, but the truth is in private I’m terrified. I invited everyone on this ship to get away from the war, and I don’t know how to tell them that we’re going to part ways once we’re safe. Maybe some will come with me, others… I don’t know. It hurts to think, and I don’t trust myself anymore. I’ve tried to be more compassionate, to trust others. After I walked the Moonpath, I was given advice on how to proceed, but I don’t know how to do what my ancestors ask of me.

The thing is, after being with these people for so long already, and after everything we’ve been through, the thought of leaving them actually kind of hurts. I know I’d feel betrayed if one of them walked out on me, so why do I think it's okay to do the same?

Maybe Hammerfell will have the answers. Maybe it’ll be safe. Maybe maybe maybe.

I just need sleep.





How could Daro’Vasora feel so low? It was never the impression she had given to anyone - and Raelynn found an instant admiration for her, that had never been there. A deep regret that she had ever thought so little of her.

She had only ever tried her best.

The Breton sighed, and once again placed the journal back on the pile in the bag. Mulling over what had been in that entry. It was… horrible. It wasn’t entirely unlike her own journal entries, except that hers were full of selfish thoughts and horrible words about pretty much everyone, and yet here the only bad words that the Khajiit had been writing were about herself. She had held herself together with such grace, and yes, she could be snappy and full of sass, but she had a big heart.

She understood now why Latro loved her so.

She thought of them, the conversations they must have - sharing the innermost secrets. Not entirely unlike she and Gregor, in fact. Only… They weren’t sacrificing the souls of Dwemer officials and bringing heat to the entire group. The pangs of guilt hit her again, and yet she couldn’t stop.

Her hand reached for the leather-bound journal and she brought it to her eyes once more...




6th Midyear 4E208

This might very well be the last time I write in this journal. The Dwemer have Roux; they sent me his fingers. I have complicated feelings towards the man, but after reuniting with him, he’s not the person he used to be. He had a wife, a daughter and the Dwemer took them from him. I could tell he was telling the truth; I’ve seen enough loss and grieving in the past weeks for a lifetime. Roux was yet another soul lost in the maelstrom of this war. They told me I have to be there in a few hours; I will be there as soon as I can. I know I’m walking into a trap, and I know this is foolish; he’s probably already dead, and this is an obvious attempt to bait me out.

It’s working. I’ve lost too many people, and I can’t sit back and do nothing. The guilt would consume me for the rest of my life.

Who the fuck am I? I don’t even know anymore.





“Roux…” she said aloud, his body seared into her mind and she could see him lying there - cold, but peaceful. She had made sure he was peaceful. Had Daro’Vasora loved this man as she loved Latro? Raelynn would never ask her, and she didn’t really want to know. It made everything so much harder. She finally got to learn how Zaveed trapped her though, he baited her to the scene and she came running. She came running because she was capable of love and always had others in front of herself. She knew it was a trap and yet she went anyway because… Well, because that was her way.

Daro’Vasora would never leave people behind.




I look back at who I was even a few months ago, and I am ashamed… of who I was, how I acted, how the last memories Rhea had were of me degrading her in front of the people she gave up everything to protect. It’s too late for her, and I failed her. It’s not too late for Roux, I hope. But no matter what I decide, I’m failing someone. I wish Latro were here right now; I just cannot tell him what I’m about to do. I can’t bear the thought of losing him, too. Maybe I deserve this, maybe a part of me feels like I deserve whatever happens to me.

I really don’t want it to happen, and even as I write this, my feet feel like anchors. The body has such an interesting way of preserving itself when it knows it’s facing its mortality, I wonder if this is what soldiers feel like when they march upon the field of battle, under some great banner knowing that they could die from a well-placed arrow before they have a chance to thrust their spear. I feel so alive right now, and I don’t think I’ve lived my life how I should. There’s so much life I need to do. But I need to do this, for me, for Roux… I don’t even know anymore.

Truth is, these people I’ve been with since I started keeping this journal, which I had expected to be filled with sketches of discoveries like that Falmer wall painting and some Dwemeri construction, my thoughts, maps, all of the usual, these people matter to me. I’m not going to be a sentimental little bitch and call them family, because I’ve barely talked to most of them, and I can only call a handful of them my friends, but that’s another failing of mine. I never let people get close until I feel I can let my guard down, but I’ve been shown a lot of love and compassion from these people, my companions.

I guess they are friends.

I think about them, and it’s no longer distrust I feel, but rather a fondness and appreciation, if anything the hesitation and apprehension I feel is from my own hang-ups and my own fears. The same ones that almost made me leave in Anvil without a word, even if that meant losing a man I was falling in love with. The same ones that followed me across the sea to somewhere I promised was safe, and they look up to me as a leader when I don’t deserve it. I am responsible for these people and I want them to go home, but to do that, we need to make sure there’s a home to go home to. That’s why I can’t give up, I can’t leave. My ancestors, Zegol, Judena, Latro… I have so many people that I love that I cannot give up on. If I quit now, I’ll spend my life regretting everything and if anything happens to my family, and I didn’t try… I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.

I guess I’ve always accepted that I could die here, doing this stupid leadership thing, and fighting a war I know we can’t win, and that’s why I’m prepared to go try and rescue Roux even though I know it will only end up bad. I just can’t live with the consequences if I didn’t.

If anyone is reading this, then maybe I died and this is their way of getting closure. If you are someone in my group, my friends… I am sorry I failed you. I love you, and everything you’ve done for me. If you’re some random asshole who found this book in a pawnshop, eat shit and die you thundering cockgoblin. Stop getting your rocks off reading people’s personal thoughts, especially when they’re dead you sick and depraved fuck. But if you are someone I knew and cared about, please know I tried my best, and you deserved way better than who I was. Be better than who I was, and don’t lose hope.

Vaba Do'Shurh'do – it is good to be brave.

Bright moons and sharp claws to you, Daro’Vasora will look down upon you and smile.





With tears in her eyes and her lips trembling, her fingers gripped so tightly around the pages that they could have torn she uttered her final words before placing the journal back into its bag;

“You never failed us.”

“You’re a hero Daro’Vasora… You’re our hero.”

Let it Snow


@Dervish & Storm




The snow glistened off of the street lamps, dancing in lazy patterns in the sky as a gentle and surprisingly mild breeze carried them to their resting places on roofs and on the streets, and even the hats that the citizens wore as their went about their frantic New Life celebration preparations. Far above, when the clouds parted, the auroras danced mesmerizingly in the sky, a treat for those of the South who seldom seen anything like it before, and even for the hardy people of Skyrim, it was a symbol of home, and the only thing more sacred than home for the Nords and others who called the frosty province home was family, and that was what New Life was about; celebrating friends and family.

The group had managed to secure a lodge months in advance thanks to a combined effort of Raelynn and Daro’Vasora, the pair of whom had proven to be rather successful in their own ventures in recent months, and this festival in Whiterun was the perfect opportunity to reconnect with the family they’d made on the most incredible adventure of their lives. While everyone spent time around town, finding gifts or food to celebrate, or even just taking in the sights in wonder, the two women walked Whiterun’s streets, arm in arm to keep warm and show their conformity with one another, an unlikely friendship between two women from very different, yet similar, walks of lives and temperaments forged together in a crucible that shaped them for the rest of their lives.

Daro’Vasora were a long grey coat with a wolf-fur liner and an oversized red and black scarf around her neck that was tucked down the front of her coat, the fur-lined hood over her ears to keep them warm. A pair of insulated thigh-length brown leather boots kept her feet warm, and she still wore the Dwemer bangles, and the malachite amulet she had been given from Governor Rourken. Her eyes scanned a cart of caramel apples and baked goods, before turning her attention to Raelynn. “So, what sorts of ideas do you have for Gregor? What does he even do for a hobby now he's not being a crazed nomad?” she asked.

“Hmmmm…” she hummed as she walked, her boots trekking through the snow, the hem of her thick overcoat trailing along behind her. The coat was as white as the snow itself, and lined with the fur of an arctic fox. It was embellished over the shoulders with light silver chainmail shaped like dragon scales. The only other piece of colour on the coat was that of a bronze brooch shaped like a hawk with a single sapphire set into its eye, pinned against her chest. Arm in arm with Daro'Vasora - she hadn't a care in the world, that was until her Khajiit companion mentioned Gregor. Her rosy cheeks immediately fell pale. She really had no idea what to get as a gift for Gregor. “Oh goodness. I've no idea, really. And you know, he'll get me the most perfect gift and… well, I have to get him something at least half as good.”

Raelynn raised her thumb to her lips, and traced the shape. “What are you going to gift Latro?” she asked, putting the onus on Sora now for an answer.

“You know, I think I went all in a bit early.” Daro’Vasora said with a smile. “First it was one of my lutes, then it was the Dwemer shortsword… now I’m just not seeing anything that compares. I suppose I thought I could just keep finding treasures in some ruins and tombs before each holiday and special occasion, but it’s been quite the year.” she frowned, looking at a hobbyhorse that a carpenter was showing to a father and his daughter, admiring the fact he thoughtfully added real horse hair to the mane. “I just never had anyone to spend the holidays with. What will he thinks if it’s inadequate or cheap or something he doesn’t like? You’d think I’d know him by now…”

“I don't know Latro all that well, but I know that anything you give him will be more than enough. He seems the sentimental type.” She gave thought to her own relationship with Gregor. The first time they had really had also been the first time they were intimate. Taking it slow had never occured to either of them. “Ah!” she exclaimed, an idea coming to her. “Our first night together, we had Alto Wine. That's a good start for Gregor…” She smiled, proud of herself. “So what about you and Latro? Goodness gracious I've never even really asked you. Tell me, tell me about it.”

“About us, how we fill in love?” Daro'Vasora asked thoughtfully. She looked up to the dancing lights above. “I guess it was something that we realized over the weeks we were together and apart. Ever since we survived the Falmer, we felt we owed each other our lives. I gave him that lute he carries around with him everywhere in Imperial City to replace the one he lost, and when the city was attacked, the thought I lost him hurt me way more than I thought would be possible. Imagine how I felt when I saw him alive and well again in the Colovian wilds.” the Khajiit said, a shy smile on her lips as the auroras reflected in her feline eyes. “And I was selfish, I almost left him and all of you in Anvil and I don't think I'll ever forget how shitty he made me feel about myself. I just knew then I couldn't be apart from him, no matter what happened. I told him how I felt in Gilane, and here we are now.” she said grinning at her friend, squeezing her arm tighter. “No matter what came next, we had each other and it was more than enough. More than I deserved.”

“That's lovely… You know, I almost left for Daggerfall in Anvil too until we were carted on the ship.” It seemed like so long ago now. “I met Gregor back in Elenglyn. He was patching up Jaraleet. Meanwhile, I was up to my elbows in blood, my hair a mess… No wonder he didn't look twice at me, but I noticed him. His eyes, it was always the eyes. Darker than ebony. I didn't speak to him again until Anvil, and then he noticed me, I was more of myself…” She sighed dreamily, remembering the look of him in the light of the sunset, and then the ravishing gaze he had for her later that evening. “I never expected it to be love… I've never been in love, never thought I could be, never was interested in it. But he makes me feel safe. There is a place in his heart that… that is just for me and me alone,” her eyes glazed over as she spoke, lost in her words.

It was the very same eyes Daro'Vasora found unsettling once upon a time, but she kept that to herself. There was no sense in birthing a contentious mood to the evening. Instead she chuckled, wheeling Raelynn to a cart with daggers and trinkets that she began to investigate with a collector's eye. “You know, when we first met, I rather thought you were incapable of loving anyone but yourself. I will say that I am thankful to Gregor in one regard; he helped you change in a lot of good ways.” the Khajiit said, lifting a glass dagger and holding it eye level and testing its fitting to the grip and how secure the pommel was to the grip. “It's hard to believe that we became friends along the way; it's hard to imagine life without anticipating your letters now.”

Raelynn’s own eyes glanced over the wares. Gregor had no need for a new dagger or small trinkets. He was a man of sentiment, and so her gift to him would be just that - sentimental. But what? Wine was a good starting point. “You know, I thought you were rather catty yourself. I suppose just good timing brought us together. Speaking of friendships, I ought to buy some of the others gifts too… Alim, Jaraleet, Judena, Calen… A pouch of chocolate for the rest should do it.”

The Khajiit offered Raelynn a sideways glance. “Catty? Really? I thought puns were beneath you.” she replied, barely containing her smirk. “Maybe a songbook… a new inkwell and pen for Judena?” Daro'Vasora mused to herself. “Why don't you and I just split catering for everyone, or get surprise bags? Or maybe I'll spike everyone's drink with moon sugar…”

“Make sure you keep it from Mazrah, I think I had enough of her last time we partook in your moon sugar. You’re a terrible influence…” Her voice had an air of humour to it, and she grinned up at the Khajiit, mischief in her eyes. “I think that sounds rather swell, actually. Or, we could just buy one of each of everything here… wrap them, and it’s first come first serve. A festive horror, so to speak.”

Daro’Vasora pouted. “Oh, too bad. I was hoping to see how that panned out last time, you got quite adventurous. I never claimed to be a good influence… just the most interesting one.” she laughed lightly, setting the dagger down where it was set before picking up an amulet. “Maybe we make a game out of it? Anonymous presents that people compete for? Set up some games for pick of the prizes and come midnight, we open whichever ones we have? Could be fun… maybe you get a pretty dagger, maybe you get fuzzy socks, maybe you get a bushel of apples. Could be grand.” she darted a glance towards Raelynn, “You would turn something festive into a horror show. It’s kind of your fetish, miss ‘I only date men who raise the dead’.”

She laughed in response, imaging their friends squabbling and fighting over gifts. A devilish smirk played across her lips in the moonlight. “I like that idea very much. How about adding a box of sweetrolls into the mix? I’m sure Megana would like those, maybe even Jaraleet would. I can’t imagine him to have much of a sweet tooth though…” Raelynn gave Sora a playful slap for her sass. “Now you watch your mouth with that talking of fetishes. I might become aroused.” She wiggled her eyebrows and picked up a bracelet from the vendors stall that had been made from animal bone. “Maybe Latro would like something like this?”

“In my experience, people will always surprise you. Jaraleet probably collects dolls and has tea parties when no one’s looking.” Daro’Vasora grinned playfully. “Come now, you’re always aroused. It’s part of your charm.” the Khajiit said, taking a look at the bracelet and pondering it. “It’ll do for now, unless something else catches my eye. Let’s carry on with our plan; you find the random gifts, I’ll find the liquor and the food, including your sweetrolls and we meet back here in… ten, fifteen minutes?”

Raelynn chuckled at her comment, before pulling herself together to hand over some coins in exchange for a few items from the vendor. “Well, if time is of the essence… I guess we can part ways for now and reconvene…” She smirked, as if it were a race. “I'll see you then friend,” she laughed again and darted off through the snow. Leaving the Khajiit in her dust.

From Beneath


a collab with the sexy @Leidenschaft




13th of Midyear - Gilane
Morning


“What do you mean you don’t have Spider’s Eggs?” She said impatiently to the merchant behind the desk - her voice a low hiss and her eyes expressed a heightening level of frustration. “I… should have more this afternoon,” was the timid, wide-eyed response. “Blue Butterfly Wing then? Frost Salts and Lavender too please…” Raelynn rolled her eyes and exhaled loudly as the merchant collected the goods and held them out to her. Her handmaiden, Rhoka, took them and began placing them into the basket that was hung over her arms. Rhoka had noted that this had been Raelynn’s first excursion out of the house since she’d arrived late some nights ago. Her sudden willingness to step outside may have had something to do with her Gentleman caller.

She had seemed much happier this morning.

“Where to next Miss?” Rhoka asked Raelynn after she had paid the merchant, “a few more stops. But these crowds are agitating me… There’s too many people around.” She tensed her body as a crowd of children ran past the stalls, squawking and squabbling amongst themselves. “Come on, let’s get this done as quickly as we can. I don’t want to get caught amongst the lunch crowds,” while there was a restless bite in her tone, Rhoka didn’t feel that there was any real malice, and so the two of them continued their journey around the market, Raelynn was gripping the shopping list in her hand tightly - every now and again she would look back upon it and nod.




“I like it.” Latro said, nodding with an appreciative frown as if he was appraising a painting.

“I never asked for an opinion,” Sevari said, tugging on his new coat and staring at himself without his beard in the mirror. “Would you recognize me in a crowd?”

“Perhaps not.” Latro said, sitting next to where Sevari was standing, “I like it.”

“Again, whether or not you like it has no bearing on whether or not I keep the outfit. It’s light, practical, I like it.” Sevari nodded.

The Ohmes-Raht was bedecked in buckskin chausses over light pants, tucked into curve-toe boots of Redguard make. He wore his tunic and his dark brown coat was sitting on the chair behind him, along with his hat. A wide-brimmed Colovian ranger’s hat with the left side of the brim pinned up with a moonstone charm. He forwent the Dwemer carbine and instead kept his pistol holstered on his belt, on which also was kept a bone-handle messer. He’d hidden away his more iconic and exotic weapons to further separate himself from the man that survived the attack on the prisoner transfer convoy.

“Are you ready?” Latro asked.

Sevari nodded. With that, they made their way back out on the streets of Gilane new men. Well, in a way. Latro had opted to do the same thing he’d done when he and Sevari first met. He was dressed in the flowing silk robes of the people of Hammerfell as well as painting his face like the women and letting his hair flow freely. It was an advantage to looking like he did, no one immediately ever able to tell if he was man or woman until he was lounging shirtless at camp and plucking his lute. Speaking of lutes, or the givers of them, it hurt to remember that Sora was still trapped in the high tower of the Governor’s Palace. They walked the streets for some time until Latro stopped, peering into the crowds.

Sevari noticed and immediately, his hand was on the hilt of his blade, “What is it?”

“I know her.” Latro said, still keeping his eyes on the woman a ways away in the crowd. “Yes, that’s… Raelynn!”

The beaming smile on his face stayed all up until he stood a few paces away from the woman he hadn’t seen in quite some time. Sevari was just getting to Latro with a frown that contrasted his demeanor. “We can’t get separated, fool.”

“... I thought you said that there was an apothecary around here, Rhoka? Have we gone too far?” Raelynn asked tersely, her eyes flitting across the crowds as if she were cautious of who could be around. “I… I… thought there was Miss,” Rhoka answered nervously, her fingers gripping the basket tightly.

“Excuse me, miss?” Latro said, pitching up his voice behind Raelynn, “Miss, can you point me to the nearest tailor’s?”

She was right to have been cautious, a voice behind her gave her quite a start and she turned around swiftly, not knowing what to expect - but wanting to give whomever the voice belonged to an angry rebuke. As she swivelled on her heel, she took a glance at the stranger behind her, starting from their feet all the way up to their face. She knew this person. It took her until she met his eyes. She would know those copper eyes anywhere. “Latro…” she breathed, her eyes widening with something between joy and shock.

Her fingers twitched at her sides, and her head shook while her eyes just moved up and down, left and right just to fully take him in. She smiled. “Latro..” she repeated, assured now. “God’s above, what are you doing here?” Her hand came up to her mouth, a finger curled over her lip while the others gripped at her chin. Speechless. She was completely speechless.

She reached back and patted Rhoka’s arm, clutching at the fabric of her shawl. “Rhoka, take those things back to the house… We’ll finish it later…” Her voice was quiet, and was only half concentrating on the words, Raelynn was still gawping at Latro, was he wearing make-up?. She didn’t notice her handmaiden take her leave. Finally, she broke her stance and lunged toward her fellow Breton, her arms wrapping around him, fingers gripping into his back. She realised it was probably too much and she immediately pulled away, almost awkwardly. “You’re back… How did you?” She had so many questions.

It wasn’t until a shadow formed over her that she turned her eyes away at last, following the imposing and tall figure of Latro’s companion, he was so tall and the hat he wore cast a shadow over his face - his… strange face. She couldn’t put her finger on who this man was - but perhaps instinct told her. He must be the other one. “Latro…?” She said once more, her tone a confused question now - her eyes locked onto those of the Ohmes-Raht, but her hand was reaching out to touch the Breton in front of her.

Latro’s expression changed from happiness to confusion until he realized. Sevari was with him. The last time they talked, he was telling her of his and Sevari’s fight. He cringed to Sevari, who was already frowning and looking at the ground. Sevari himself spoke first, “Miss, I…” he trailed off, a look of regret upon him as he fixed his hat, deciding to take it off and offer his face uncovered by shadow, “I mean you no harm. Latro and I are companions now, as odd as it may seem.”

He held up his hand before any conclusions could be jumped to from his first words, “He does not serve the Dwemer, no. If I may offer the truth, I do not either, not truly.” He said, “I am… I apologize for…”

He sighed, not knowing what to say. Latro touched Raelynn’s shoulder and nodded, “It’s all true, Raelynn. He’s a friend.”

“My brother did horrible things and no apology from me will mean anything, I know that.” He said, voice low and heavy.

Companions? Friends? Just what had been happening in the days since she had seen Latro last exactly? She knew that Sevari had helped Jaraleet and Meg... She knew that much about him. But wasn’t he also the one who beat Latro to a pulp? She knew why he could barely look at her, and she tucked her hands behind her back nervously, saying nothing back to him even if her mind was full of all the things she wanted to say. This wasn’t the place or the time for that, and she settled for balling her hands into tight fists behind her back.

It was crass for him to do that - to just bring it up, to bring up Zaveed. He didn’t have to say his name but Raelynn knew and Latro knew, and it made her feel vulnerable in a puzzling way. Here and now, in public of all places and still she had no seething remark to chew him back with. Yet.

Raelynn sidestepped away from him slowly, her eyes not leaving his even if he could not look at her. There was something burning behind that gaze of hers. She took her place at Latro’s side, letting him stand between the two of them. A sickly feeling hit her stomach, but she tried to smile it away, “well, I don't think I'm in a position to quarrel with you over that,” she said quietly. He may have found some kind of friendship with Sevari, but she had saved the life of her abuser. Who was she to judge it, really? Did they know that? Did they know anything at all? Her eyes darted to Sevari once more before she looped her arm through Latro’s, holding him tightly. As if she were protecting she and him both.

Of course! “Latro, where is Sora? We must find somewhere quiet to talk, I feel there's much to catch up on...” Raelynn almost felt guilty for not having asked about Sora, for not even thinking about Sora sooner - but, seeing Latro was enough.

Latro looked away from Raelynn at the mention of Sora. There might have been something in his eye, but he wiped it away, careful not to smudge his eyeliner. “Come, walk with me. We’ll find a tea shop or somesuch to talk.”

Once they’d made it to one, Latro sat, gesturing for Raelynn to do the same. Sevari took his seat next to Latro, refusing to meet Raelynn’s eyes the entirety of the trio here, and even now still. Latro places his hands on the short-leg table they were seated at, sitting cross-legged on fine pillows as was the tradition of Redguard tea and hookah shops. It took a while for him to begin, mouth working at the words, tongue wondering just how to frame the news to Raelynn.

“I know you and Gregor left the Three Crowns some time ago, it isn’t my business.” He began, “Sora was… was captured. Parades through the streets like a monster. I wanted to save her, Raelynn, I would’ve cut the crowd down around me if they so muched as shifted a finger to stop me.”

His voice was quiet, seething rage at the memory, “That fucking pig had her there and they caught me too. I couldn’t have made it to him before he sprayed her brains over the street with his pistol.” Latro scowled, “I surrendered, just to be with her, offer her my protection or my presence, at least. I managed to get out of the Palace but she’s still there.” He gestured to Sevari, “This Khajiit is why I made it out, why I’m still alive.”

She hung on Latro's words - the presence of the Khajiit playing on her mind - her eyes flicked back to him after Latro explained how he'd escaped, and briefly she remembered Zaveed cutting through her ropes too. It didn't add up, but she left those thoughts to the side for now. She leaned in to Latro and wanted to place a hand on his, but she let them sit in her lap instead, one leg crossed over the other. All she could do was nod, interject with a quiet hum between his words. It was a horrendous story, and hearing his words brought her back to her own part in it. “I'm sorry…” were the first words that she said, turning her head away. Tears sitting in the corners of her eyes. “I could have done more… Fought back. I could have tried. Maybe he wouldn't have taken her if I could have done anything.”

Her hands came up from her lap and her elbows hit the wood of the table with a quick slam, her face falling into her hands. “I could have used magic, I could have called for help. But I was powerless - again.” She sighed and tried to compose herself. She hadn't spoken much about that night, and being here with Latro just shot her with guilt over not having come for Sora sooner - they had told Meg and Jaraleet, but should it have been her?

“I didn't come to my senses for hours. Roux was dead and there were guards there.” The memory of the sound of the Chain Lightning made her wince, she shut her eyes tightly, fingers gripping around the strands of hair they touched. “I killed them…” she admitted, defeat rolling off her tongue into the silence that sat around them. “If I had thought about it sooner then I could have helped her. I could have helped.”

“Stop.” He said, quietly, sympathy in his eyes as he held her gaze, “Don’t do that to yourself, Raelynn. You did what you had to, you did what you could. That’s enough, you did enough.”

“None of this is your fault. Don’t make it seem that way in your head.” He said, offering his easy smile, “We won’t let them win. We’ll stick together through this. All of us.”

He was right, there was no sense in that way of thinking. She placed her hands flat onto the surface of the table and smiled back at him. “I know, I know. This whole thing has been a disaster, hasn't it? Do you think there will be a reprieve from this soon?” A small laugh escaped her lips. “We'll get her back.”

It was doing no good to dwell on the situation, at least not to keep treading over old ground and picking at raw wounds. Raelynn looked to Sevari - who had been silent for the time being. “So you… You helped Latro, and Jaraleet too.” For a moment she thought to reach out to him and place her hand on him, her fingers just strummed across the wood of the table instead. “I don't know why, or need to. Things are difficult enough I think. Are you going to help us get Daro'Vasora free,” her eyes moved to Latro again, before she turned to Sevari. “Are you with us now?”

“Truth be told, Miss.” Sevari still held his gaze on the grain of the table, remembering everything that’d happened so far. It pained him, but now was not the time, nor were these the people to show it to. He just shrugged, speaking heavily, though he tried to keep the weight from it, “I’ve got nobody else to be with. Latro, Jaraleet…”

He sighed, “I think they’re the closest thing I have to friends right now.” Nodding, continued, “So, yeah. I’ll help Latro. I’ll help Sora. I’ll help you.”

“Well, when you cavort around making yourself known with violence, it’s not hard to find yourself in such a predicament.” Her words were harsh, but she knew they were true. Her fingers stopped strumming, and she straightened herself up. “Look at me,” she said in a demanding tone, waiting for him to finally look up from the spot on the table he had been so fixated on.

He lifted his gaze from the table, a slight frown, but his eyes held hers. He didn’t want to, but he did anyways. It wasn’t even him that did what had been done to this woman, but it still pained him that it was someone he loved that did. Even still, Gregor’s words about leaving Zaveed behind echoed in him. That he wasn’t the person he once was. Sevari himself wasn’t either. So, he wouldn’t. Though that didn’t mean part of him didn’t want to. Raelynn’s eyes bored into his without her trying or not, but this wasn’t the first difficult thing he’d done, nor would it be the last.

“You have shown yourself to be an ally to us, and so I thank you for that,” she began, but there was a cold edge on her words, “your brother did do horrible things, to Daro’Vasora, to Roux, to me.” She lifted her hand up to the light, turning it to show both sides - where the scar sat. Her face curled to a sneer. “But you are not your brother. Do not apologise for him.” She sighed, Raelynn could see that Sevari had witnessed so much, he carried that on his face - something regretful was emanating from him right now. It would be so easy for her to cut him down to nothing right now with little more than her words, but he looked as though he had already done it to himself, she could not bring herself to start conflict in Latro's company, either. She had to let this one go.

“Zaveed is....” her voice began to crack, it felt wrong to discuss this, but it was a weight that had been holding her down for too long, she needed to be free of it. “I gave Zaveed a second chance, and I add that to his debt to me. It would be wrong of me to deny you the same thing. Do not fail us.” There was a heavy seriousness in her voice, but she felt lighter, and in the spirit of that she placed her hand on Latro’s and gave it a gentle squeeze. “I imagine you’ll be heading to rescue her with the group… I will be of no use to you, and Gregor can not fight, but anything I can provide in the meantime that may be of assistance - you need only ask. I have resources at my fingertips right now.” She smiled at him with warmth in her eyes. “You too,” she said to Sevari, “if you need anything… I, well… Just ask.”

“Anything, Raelynn. Anything at all.” He said, frowning, “I’m taking Sora away from here whether she wants it or not. There’s nothing for us here now.”

“Alright, well I am expecting my father to return today - I will send our bodyguard, Zhaib in Gregor and I’s stead. I can assure you that he is a fearsome warrior and will fight alongside you at your command, or escort you through the palace. Whatever use you can find for him, he is yours.” She raised her hand to her mouth, thinking about it all. Her brows dipped in concentration. “I can make some potions too, and we have Restoration scrolls to spare. My father has no use for them, I’ll send them with Zhaib when the time comes.”

“Good, I appreciate it.” He said, nodding, “We could use another fighter. I hope Gregor recovers soon. It has not been a restful past couple of days for me or Sevari.”

“No.” Sevari muttered.

“Gregor is in my care now, he’s doing well.” She said, matter of factly, eyes drawn back to Sevari. “You must love your brother very much, is that true?”

“I love what’s left of the man I knew,” Sevari nodded, “We’re family, perhaps not by blood, but by bond. Gregor is a good man, Raelynn, and I’ve learned that no matter the crimes done, there’s perhaps good men under them. Zaveed is no better than me, no better than Gregor.”

“Gregor and I are perhaps of a kind. Old soldiers. I respect him. I only hope to bring more of the man I once knew in Senchal to the surface in Zaveed. I’m getting there, I hope.” Sevari said, “I don’t know what roads we will go down in the future, but I hope yours are steady as they can be in these times.”

She smirked at the mention of Gregor, she did not like how his name sounded rolling off the tongue of the Ohmes-Raht. “Zaveed is beneath Gregor, beneath me. All he can do now is climb back up to his place. Time will tell whether or not he does, or if he will let his shadows devour him.”

“I don’t know you enough, Sevari. I am sure you will prove who you are in the coming days. But we are good people, each of us. Zaveed will need your help if he is to change... “ She looked down at the table, at her hands - the fingers splayed out against the wood. “His pain will be excruciating, I’ve no doubt… Give him essence of Blue Dartwing, Blisterwort, and Mountain Flower. It will weaken him momentarily, but his pain will cease. More than it will from a Potion.” She shouldn’t have said it, she didn’t owe anything more to him, but this was for Sevari. “We’re good people, and we were never your enemy.”

“Maybe,” he said, “There’s always good people on either side of a question. If only it was so easy to tell.”

“Well, I think we’d better part ways. The city isn’t the safest for either of us and you being caught in our presence might bring you trouble.” Latro rose and gave Rae his easy smile, “Until we meet again.”

With that, they made their way back to the streets, back to their business.

Raelynn watched the two of them leave and still she couldn’t shake a feeling of uneasiness over Sevari, and yet if Latro was able to trust him, shouldn’t she be able to? She gave them a few minutes before she too stood from the table and made her way back out to the streets. She had things to collect from her room at the Hotel, perhaps Daro’Vasora’s things too. Had anyone else thought to?

She couldn’t help but notice a feeling in the air, that everything was about to happen, and it was happening soon.
Dawn.


A Storm&Hank telenovela special

12th Midyear - Afternoon - Salosoix Residence, Gilane




The back room of the Hawkford residence in Gilane was a grandiose circular sanctuary with towering bookshelves and cabinets that made the ceiling of the room appear far higher than it was. In the centre, a skylight allowed sunlight to pour through, the amber glow catching against every piece of glassware in the direct light. Towards the entrance of the room, a set of plush indigo velvet chaise lounges, surrounded by piles of books and parchments. Even though they were piled in stacks, it was deliberate, nothing in this room was out of place. In the comforting warmth of midday, the scent of warm honey, pistachio, and rosewater wafted through the windows from a kitchen somewhere.

Nothing was quite as eye-catching as the woman stood in the room, however, dressed in a deep scarlett boned sleeveless jacket of embroidered jacquard streaked with golden thread. Over her dainty shoulders was a sheer cape of golden silk, held in place with an ornate gilded metal frame that looped around her shoulders and rose around her neck like a collar where it clipped to the back of the jacket. To complete the ensemble, there was a large ruby amulet around her neck. She wore on her feet a pair of two-pronged heeled metal sandals that would be entirely impractical for anything other than indoor work.

If the room was a quiet haven and a slice of Daggerfall slotted into the tempestuous desert of Hammerfell, then the woman in the centre was every bit the image of a living and breathing representation of High Rock nobility.

“Miss Hawkford, are you alright?” came the shy voice of a Redguard stood by the window, her clothes plain. A handmaiden of the house. “You’ve been looking at that little doodad for a while now, spaced out-” she continued, tilting her head as if to gaze and look upon the face of the woman whose back was to her. The blonde Breton looked back over her shoulder, an almost vacant expression sat upon her features until she forced herself to smile over at the girl, “yes Rhoka, I’m alright, and it’s a lock actually - not a doodad. Not entirely exciting, but I’m sure that someone out there would like this old thing.” Her dreamy voice trailed off as she turned it around in her hand, and she thought instantly of Daro’Vasora. “I’d value it at a fair twenty septims, no more and no less.” Raelynn blew against the alloy of the lock in her hand, blowing free an amount of dust that had been sitting within the keyhole, before placing it down upon the table and picking up a quill to mark down on parchment her appraisal.

“The hair looks good now too,” said Rhoka to Raelynn’s surprise. The two of them had taken scissors to the ends of her hair upon her arrival at her father’s. They must have removed five or six inches of it’s length - all dry and matted. Dead. Even with such an amount removed, it still hung in loose waves to her breasts. It looked refreshed and rejuvenated, and she could smell the oils that Rhoka had worked into it. Freesia and water hyacinthe. Not her usual scent, but she had been craving change lately, and the light floral aroma was pleasing. “Thank you Rhoka,” she said as she moved over to the shelf - her heels clacking against the wooden floor, a percussive accompaniment to the gentle sound of the wind chimes fluttering in the warm breeze that had been rolling through the open windows at each side of the room.

“You’re looking better too, M’lady. If you don’t mind my saying - you’ve got colour in your cheeks again. God’s above... When you arrived - your father, he thought you were a ghost.” Raelynn took in a single sharp breath and restrained herself from upbraiding the girl for the comment there and then. She had to remind herself that she was only trying to be helpful, she was young and naive, and not aware that it wasn’t quite proper to bring up such things.

But Rhoka had been a help, a comfort. She hadn’t said much, she had just let Raelynn be. She had stayed by her side, brushed her hair, dressed her, bathed her, fed her. Let her cry when she had to without asking questions. Rhoka had helped Raelynn carve out a space in her father’s residence to rest and process her feelings by herself, in her own time. That level of love and servitude was priceless.

Truthfully, she had felt like a ghost that night too, floating from The Haunted Tide to Salosoix’s home, still coated in the blood of both Gregor and Zaveed, vacant of her own life having spent her energy to save theirs. A pathetic sight.

It hadn’t taken much to wash it away this time. Good food, the tender care and attention of both Rhoka and Zhaib, and undisturbed rest. The morning after that night had given her a new sense of vigour, and being surrounded by so many reminders of her home and her opulent upbringing allowed her to shield herself, bury the angst, and begin to move on. It was hard, but one breath at a time she locked everything down and papered it in a painted smile. She hadn’t stopped since. “Let’s just keep our heads up now and continue forwards… Besides, we have a whole chest of goods to work through. The work won’t do itself.” Even if she hadn’t meant to, the words came out pointed and piercing like a knife.

“You’re right M’lady…” Rhoka said half under her breath. She had grown to admire Raelynn in the last day or so, her resilience and grace most of all. Zhaib had only told her parts of what had been happening, and none of them knew exactly what had caused the daughter of Salosoix to appear in the doorframe, bloodied and in tears just nights ago. She hadn’t spoken a word of it. The way that Salosoix had held his glass of rum that night had suggested to her that it had been something terrible - the two of them had a way of communicating in glances. Their eyes were the same, and they must have shared souls because in a single look the Lady was able to communicate to her father what words could never hope to encapsulate. And after that, he and Zhaib took off for Hegathe for work, it couldn’t have been avoided, but the elder Hawkford left that morning in the most sour mood Rhoka had seen him in yet. He didn’t want to leave Raelynn, but his daughter, as stubborn as he was (if not more so), had insisted.

Of course, it hadn’t taken the Lady long to put herself to work, and Rhoka had noticed her smiles and change in mood when she was surrounded by the things of Daggerfall and High Rock - something was troubling her, but she was ironing it out and smoothing it down with good, honest work. It helped that she could also wear many of the jewels and fine fabrics of comfort. Oh how Rhoka wished she could adorn herself in such luxury too. She sighed and smiled in her direction, before walking over to the steps to meet Raelynn on the mezzanine.

“It’s nice to get to work for you M’lady…” she said as she got down on all fours, to a pile of antiques on the floor that needed to be cleaned and polished. “Don’t get me wrong, your father is a good man and it pleases me to serve him, but there’s nothing like having a proper Mistress to serve.”

“You’re one of the first to make that remark, it’s nice of you to say…” whenever Raelynn spoke, Rhoka could sense that the voice was just a shadow - a soft veil layered over the effort it was taking her to hold herself up, but gradually there was light returning. It was as she had told the Breton herself “no matter how dark the night, a new dawn will always bring the light back in.” Rhoka could sense that sunrise beginning for her Mistress.

As Raelynn worked her way through the goods she glanced down at Rhoka on the floor, who was carefully brushing at the dusty items that were piled up there. Something caught her eye. A ring, lying amongst a pretty sundial and a glass dagger. It had a ruby set into it and looking at it on the floor reminded her instantly of Gregor and of their first night in Anvil. How he had walked her through the streets on his arm and shown her a ring so similar, his smile - his beautiful smile. She hadn’t noticed his smile that day, having been too entranced by his eyes and his mystery. But she could see it now, beaming at her in the Anvil sunset. She gasped and it felt as if the mask was about to slip and crack and her emotions were going to spill forth and drown them both.

“M’lady?” Rhoka asked, following Raelynn’s gaze to the ruby ring on the ground. She could see the effect it was having on her Mistress as Raelynn placed a hand on her heart and swiftly turned away to sit down upon a wooden chair, back once again to the handmaiden.

“It’s just a ring… I’ve moved it away now…” the girl took it into her hand. It was dusty and had seen better days, but she could tell that it once sat on the hand of a pretty noblewoman - probably one just like Raelynn. She could feel how heavy Raelynn’s mood had gotten to see it. The lady was heartbroken. Rhoka got to her feet and walked to Raelynn’s side, taking from a pocket in her apron an ivory comb which she began to run though the long hair of the Breton. “...Thank you, Rhoka,” was all that Raelynn could say in a weak voice through pursed blood red lips as she went back to breathing in and out again, pushing the thoughts of Gregor back down where they belonged for now.

After some time had passed, she felt normal again. The soothing tingle of the handmaiden combing her hair helped to ease down her rising feelings of despair and sentiment. “Say, why don’t you go and fetch us some of those knafeh and baklava that my father raves about?” She mustered a smile - her head shaking a little but she got to her feet once more, reaching into Rhoka’s hand for the ring. As she had with the lock, she held it up to the sun which was pooling in from the skylight. It twinkled and glistened like only a flawless jewel could, and with a content smile she sighed and placed it next to the parchment, writing down her appraisal; “Not for Sale”.

Rhoka made her way down the steps and to the door, turning around for one last look at Raelynn before she set off to the markets. She was already examining something else, the serious look back on her face, eyes squinting at the sundial, a small brush in her other hand that she was using to dust it off. Satisfactory. She closed the door behind her, and made her way into the busy afternoon streets.




Not long after Rhoka had left, someone else came calling upon the Hawkford residence. An Imperial man of average height but imposing stature, his dark hair swept back into a ronin’s knot and his beard immaculately trimmed, who was dressed in fine Hammerfell linens; a white shirt and tan breeches. The deep neck and loose fabric of the shirt revealed that his torso was bandaged. Around his shoulders was draped a fine cloak expertly woven from double lined cotton, brown as clay, that hung all the way down to the heels of his dark leather boots and flowed as smoothly as the waves of the sea as he walked. A ruby set into a silver ring of remarkable craftsmanship glittered on one of the man’s fingers, catching the sun in spectacular fashion, and a golden band around his wrist did a similarly fine job of reflecting the golden city of Gilane itself.

He looked better than he had done before, with the appearance of a man on the mend after a grave illness or a serious injury. His tanned skin, typical of his race, was still slightly more pale than it should be if he were in entirely good health, and there was a darkness beneath his eyes that betrayed the pain and fatigue he still felt, but the worst had passed. His movements were stiff and measured and he walked with a wooden cane that he was clearly inexperienced with. Everything about him, from the thin grimace of his lips to the white-knuckled grip of the cane’s handle, bespoke of a man who was unused to being at anything less than the peak of male physical performance and who took a dim view of his current state of well-being. There was a gravity to his presence and the people on the streets of Gilane, either consciously or subconsciously, made way for him and turned their heads to watch him pass by; a stranger to these lands, a foreigner, but somehow obviously and undeniably important. A man on a mission.

Gregor Sibassius was his name. He raised his hand to knock on the front door but stopped himself when he noticed that it was slightly ajar. Instead, he pressed his fingers against the solid wood, warm and smooth after having basked in the sun all day, and pushed. The door swung open smoothly on well-oiled hinges and Gregor stepped inside, stopping just beyond the precipice, waiting for his eyes to adjust. At first glance, the residence seemed deserted; neither the pater familias nor the scion were anywhere to be seen. After a few seconds Gregor noticed that a door at the far end of the hall, one that had been closed on all his previous visits, was open, and he could hear the quiet sounds of domestic activity beyond. His cane and the raised soles of his boots clicked and clacked on the panelled floor upon his approach. For some reason, indiscernible from his expression alone, Gregor stopped when he reached the door. He fidgeted with his cane and took a deep breath. He muttered something unintelligible to himself and entered.

What greeted him beyond was almost entirely unexpected. The splendor and design of the room, brilliantly illuminated by the sunrays that entered through the skylight, captivated his attention and his gaze wandered throughout for quite a while, flitting from artifact to bookshelf to pile of papers and back again, before he noticed the woman on the mezzanine above him. Her back was turned to him but he recognised her immediately, despite her new clothes. Even her hair was different. He drew a sharp breath. If she had noticed his entry she showed no sign of it and continued to study something -- too small to see -- by holding it up against the sunlight, and Gregor used the time to simply look at her. She was beautiful, more so than ever, and the austere look on his face softened somewhat as he was moved by the sight.

Raelynn turned the dagger around in her hand, it had jewels set into the pommel. Sapphires, but they weren't flawless - even if they were pretty. It was a stunningly simple dagger, the blade not too long or sharp - it would suit a woman's hand. She raised a thumb to her lip and nodded at it, the sound of footsteps approaching caught her attention but not enough to look away from the dagger. As she leaned forward to put quill to parchment, she spoke out and broke the silence that had fallen, “Rhoka, if you forgot the coin purse again it's in the usual spot - and if you wouldn't mind picking up some of those lamb things…”

After having written down her notes she had started to turn around, expecting to see the round, perpetually friendly face of her handmaiden, instead she was met by the sight of a gentlemanly figure who took her breath away at the sight of him. It was Gregor, and naturally upon seeing him her lips curled into a smile until she found herself again and blinked quickly to diminish it, letting seriousness return to her face, turning her face away. Their last meeting hadn't been pleasant, she didn't yet understand why he was here. Although, of course she did know. He wanted to hear her explanation - her side of the story, but she could not be sure whether he came here to chastise her, or listen, or to attack. And yet she did not fear him.

“I'm sorry, I thought you were someone else for a moment…” Where her hands had been held up at her chest, they dropped to her sides slowly and she straightened in posture as she took in the sight of him. Her eyes fixed on the cane in his hand, her mouth hung open just a little in surprise still. She wanted to tell him that she'd missed him, but now wasn't the time. Had he missed her? He wasn't ready to hear that, it wasn't what he should hear. She straightened herself up, hands hanging together in a soft fist. “Your wounds… They must be itching by now, yes?”

He almost returned her smile but the urge to do so faded when her own expression turned to mirror his. They were not ready to be unconditionally happy to see each other. Gregor opened his mouth to reply to her question but closed it again. He looked down at himself for a few seconds, eyes lingering on the bandages, his jaw working while he minced his words. “Worse than that,” he said at length and looked back up at Raelynn. He decided that the shorter hair suited her. “The pain is a potent reminder that no good deed goes unpunished.” His tone was more caustic than he would have liked and he sighed. “And it makes me discourteous. My apologies. Yes… they itch.”

She made her way with purposeful strides to a cabinet in a darkened, cooler corner, opening the doors carefully as she removed a small metal bowl from a plate of frost salts. “I made this, I was going to have Rhoka bring it to you…” She hovered in the spot, looking at the ointment inside. She thought about how much difficulty her handmaiden had trying to locate the various reagents that made it up. She had to stifle a laugh with her hand. “It was quite the caper to locate some Cloud Mist…” she admitted, pressing a finger into the mixture. It was cool enough now. She moved timidly towards him with it, descending the steps to place it down on a side table.

Her hand lingered over it, a cold mist rising from the gel like ointment inside. Raelynn pulled away and began back up the stairs, back to the desk - creating the space between them again. “It will help, anyway.”

The fact that she had made something to help him with his pain was touching, but Gregor felt conflicted that she would not have brought it to him herself. Was that out of respect for his need for space or because she was unwilling to face him? He felt a similar pang when she retreated back to the mezzanine. He looked at the bowl and the ointment inside for a few seconds. His questions could wait. Gregor rested his cane against the side table and bent over to dab some of the cool gel on his fingers of his right hand. He hooked the fingers of his left hand underneath the edge of the bandage that covered his collarbone and the grievous scar that pained him there and gingerly applied the ointment on his skin, evenly spreading it on the scar tissue that he could reach this way, and waited, dropping his hands to his sides. He balled his fists, trying to hide the trembling of his fingers from Raelynn.

He did not have to wait long. A sense of relief began to spread through his upper body and he exhaled slowly, his mouth hanging open slightly at the pleasurable sensation. It reminded him of when Raelynn had massaged his spine, but this was so much better. “Thank you,” he said, and no amount of sourness in his mood could have taken the sincere gratitude out of his voice. “It helps a lot.” He looked up at her with an ambiguous expression, his smoldering anger disarmed by her kindness, and a small smile that was equal parts sheepish and melancholic played around his lips. “You look well.”

She sat down at the desk slowly, eyes following him as he applied her medicine. He may have tried to hide it, but she saw how his fingers shook against him, betraying him like that. She blinked and looked down at the desk and began to busy herself by rolling up the parchment she had been writing on. His struggle reminded her of her own pains with her hands - even now they would seize occasionally. But not today. When he complimented her, she took a look at herself sidelong in a standing mirror, sat in her jacket, the cape. She was so unlike herself and yet so completely herself at the same time. She looked like the woman she had been a long time ago, the woman she had to become again now. “Thank you…” she replied quietly to him, her blue eyes meeting his only briefly before she pulled the gaze away once more with a sigh that suggested she was lost for words and breath all at once. She stood back up, pacing slowly. She knew why he was here, but how to best explain? The best thing would be to just tell him, to explain to him in her own words, while he had the patience to hear it.

“I did try to kill him, Gregor,” was how she chose to start, there was to be no pussyfooting around it, afterall. She moved away from under the skylight to a bookshelf. The scent of the pages mottled with dust that sat against their spines hung in the air. It was a comforting scent that reminded her of aspects of her childhood, of being surrounded by old dogeared tomes. “I stuck him with his own blade.” As she said the words, she tensed her fingers and they retracted back into balled fists against the heavy wooden shelves. Only then did she look at him again, to gauge his reaction - wondering if such a fact would make him feel better or worse.

He tried to picture it, to place himself in her shoes at that moment. Raelynn, blade in hand, an already mortally wounded Zaveed at her mercy, and all the opportunity in the world to put an end to an evil that had caused her so much suffering. Gregor watched in his mind’s eye as Zaveed’s own dagger was thrust into him in, and then… nothing. What could have possibly changed her mind? He could not think of anything. He frowned, a twinge of annoyance visible on his face. Grace is just weakness, he wanted to say, but kept his tongue. “Go on,” he said instead.

With her eyes back on the books in front of her, she drew a long breath. She wasn’t really looking at anything, her eyes blank and vacant as she relived it in the details she could remember. It was the orange sunset - the vermillion and rust colours moving through the air. The scent of spices, the sounds of everyday monotony just streets away, and the look that lay in Zaveed’s eyes of a man who had given up, that reflected it all. “He didn’t fight me. He thanked me for it.” She traced her nails over her collarbone and turned from the bookshelf - walking in the other direction and back to the desk. “I didn’t feel any better. I thought that… If I could finish it, if I could see him die… If I could hurt him as he did to me then I would feel better.”

With her eyes closed, a clenched fist sat in the centre of her chest she fought back tears and managed to get the urge to pass with a few long breaths. She wasn’t about to crack and cry, she couldn’t. “I felt worse, because I didn’t feel better.”

“There was nothing in me, I was empty and I have been empty for too long, Gregor…” She shook her head and straightened up, pursing her lips in concentration before a stoic expression returned. “I know that you don’t understand it, Gods, I don’t understand it either.” She thought to tell him about what she had said to Daro’Vasora that night, the sound of her own voice replayed in her mind; It’s okay if it’s not me. The desperate desire for an end to it. No, that would remain as a secret shared only by Daro’Vasora and Raelynn.

The pregnant silence that hung over them like a shroud was only broken by the tapping of Gregor’s cane on the floor as he lifted it up and down, in tandem with the nodding of his head while he looked around the room. He clenched and flexed his fingers and chewed on the insides of his cheeks. “You didn’t feel better,” he repeated, his voice tense and strained. “While I lay dying in the room at the inn, our room, you saved Zaveed’s life because killing him made you feel bad.” He muttered a curse beneath his breath and looked down at the ground. He wanted to throw something and the knowledge that doing so would only make his pain worse was almost as impossible to stand as his impotent anger. He did not look back up at Raelynn when he continued. “I did not attack him. The wounds he inflicted on me were not out of self-defense. We ran into each other in an alley -- I had guessed right that he would be in the area because of the attack on the Dominion envoy -- and he reached for his weapons before I’d even recognized who he was. He was more than eager to kill me, Raelynn. I fought him and I beat him but it took… everything, everything that I have within my powers, and when he was defeated and his soul was trapped, someone intervened. He escaped but he should have died from his injuries,” he said, and it was only then that he looked up. Gregor’s face was set in an accusatory scowl, thunder in his eyes, and he practically spat out his next words. “And then you saved him. Do you think he will just forgive me for almost sending him to suffer an eternity in the Soul Cairn? Which, if I may remind you, was your request in the first place? I did as you asked, I fulfilled my promise to you, and you repaid me by undoing my work.”

They were nearing a tipping point. “You have to do better than that,” Gregor growled with a note of finality.

If there was thunder in his expression, then a maelstrom had brewed in hers, beset into the blue and grey of her eyes, and she would not bow to him on this. She would not fall to his feet and beg for his forgiveness. That was not her way anymore. She had grown too lenient and too passive recently. She moved to the edge of the stairs, a hand on the bannister as she looked down upon him. It was ridiculous, but she felt powerful up there, in the Hawkford’s treasure room. This was her safe space, this is where she had been carving herself fresh, he would not come in here with his anger and accusations like this. Pangs of guilt struck her, yes, but she did not budge. “You lied to me.” It wasn’t spat, there was no malice beneath it, it was just stated.

“You told me you were going to collect your things. But that's not true. You heard of the attack and you went looking and you didn’t tell me. You lied to me.” She shook her head and turned away from the edge, her cape swooping behind her with the force of it. She retreated to shadow. “I went out there looking for you. I was worried about you.” In the face of his anger like this, she knew that he would not rest and manage to quell it until something she could say satisfied his hunger. “You did fulfill your promise, you did.” Her arms folded over her chest and she began pacing slowly again, “I wish you would have told me where you were going, you may not have been so hurt and we could have done it together. Together we could have killed him,” her voice had softened and trailed off. There was little need for her to be so defensive about it, he was right to be angry and demanding, and in her mind so was she. “And I didn’t feel bad about it. I… didn’t feel anything.”

It was true that he lied to her. Exasperation flitted across Gregor’s face before he regained his composure. “I didn’t want you to come with me because I was afraid he would find a way to use you against me,” Gregor said. “And if I told you where I was going, you would have followed me. I know you well enough, Raelynn.” Something approaching a smile tugged at his lips. “But evidently not as well as I thought. Never would I have expected that you would show him mercy.” He looked around the room again, as if searching for support from something that wasn’t there, before he turned back to Raelynn. “Fine, if killing him made you feel nothing, or empty, how did saving him make you feel? Tell me that, at least.”

Part of her wasn’t concentrating on him anymore, her eyes had been fixated on a vase that she had valued very highly earlier. She was imaging how freeing it would be to lift it from it’s plinthe and throw it as hard as she could across the room. How many pieces would it break into? What kind of sound would it make? How far would the pieces spread across the ground? She tore her eyes away from it, locking onto his, her lip trembling, she knew her next words would wound him as the same words had wounded her, “I thought we were a team…” She didn’t regret it, she didn’t underline the words with venom or punctuate with indignation, but he needed to feel their gravitas, and to understand the worry she felt at his absence.

“Saving him?” The sound of the waves was deafening in her ears. It’s all she could call to mind, the soft bubbling sound of them breaking the shore and receding back to the ocean over and over. “It felt horrible, painful… It was ugly and vile…” Raelynn brought both hands to her mouth as quickly as she did so, her eyes wide open in terror as the words came out. Would it ruin him more knowing that neither option was enough to mend her? Was her being mended something he even wanted in the face of the revelation? “But I had to… I had to show him compassion… So that I would never have to become like him.” She took a long, drawn out breath, “all I had that he didn’t have, was compassion.” Her eyes shut tightly and her hands found her way to her face again, covering everything now as she struggled to contain herself. The bottle that was holding everything together was about to shatter like the vase that she so desperately wanted to throw.

He wanted to respond, to throw her naive notions of compassion into the winds, to chastise her for allowing weakness to get the better of her at such a critical moment -- to say the same things to Raelynn now that he had said to Daro’Vasora before, about the nature of monsters and mercy, but his breath caught in his throat when he saw the shape of a woman in the shadows beneath the mezzanine. Long, dark hair, eyes that shone like precious jewels, a beautiful, modest dress… he shook his head slightly, eyes wide at the apparition. He did not want to see her now, not like this. The present was painful enough without the regrets of the past coming back to haunt him now.

The woman stepped out of the shadow and into the light and Gregor saw that it was not Briar. It was Gaia. She smiled at him, her head tilted, a mother’s love writ upon her face; the kind that could only allow pity at seeing her son astray, and nothing more malicious than that. “Is that not why you love her?” she asked, her voice coming from far away. Gregor could only stare, unblinking and motionless. “The compassion she showed him… it’s how she can love you, sweetheart. Do not admonish her for that. Without it, she would not be the woman she is.”

At last, Gregor’s anger broke and he looked up at Raelynn, seeing how she hid behind her hands, how her shoulders quivered with the effort it took to keep herself together in the face of his disappointment and his fury. “You compliment each other not because you are the same, but because you are different,” his mother said. Gregor felt it now, like a tidal wave rushing over his chest: love, admiration, shame.

“Raelynn,” Gregor said at last, his voice unsteady. A single tear ran down his face. “I’m sorry. Come here. I’m so sorry…”

The Breton hadn’t seen what had happened, head still buried in her hands, fixed in her spot. She would never know what it was that changed Gregor’s mind - she only knew the feeling of a cold shot of relief that hit her head on when he apologised. It almost knocked her to the floor, but he needed her by his side again - he was ready to accept her there. Slowly she began towards the stairs, her hands dropped to her sides, and while her face appeared unreadable, she continued until she couldn't. Her foot was hanging over the edge of the step and she was so close, but she turned away instead - knowing what was about to happen. A crack in the bottle.

Raelynn turned her back to him again and in a graceful way she stumbled in the direction of desk, her hands planting down onto the wood, fingers gripping at it. She had held herself together for so long all day, for each day since she had been sent away from him. With a single and almost inaudible breath she whispered down at the parchment “I’m so in love with you…” Had he heard it? Her cheeks were growing hot, and she watched as a tear hit an unrolled piece of parchment, causing the ink to bleed out.

“I just can’t…” she began, louder this time, but her voice wavering and broken “I can’t think about anybody… Or anything.” She was breathing quicker, panicked almost, and she waved a hand on front of her face - fanning away the heat - grateful that Gregor could not see her face and the way that even her chin trembled as she broke against her emotions. “I can’t sleep…” she felt a tear roll down her cheek, and rest on her jaw. She swallowed and brought a hand to her chest, fingers grasping the bare flesh there before working their way up to her throat. “I can’t breathe…” She let go and lifted her head to look up above her through the window of the skylight, the endless blue. She took another breath, and another - drinking in the oxygen. “I love you.” She had to stop momentarily, catching her breath again as one of her hands balled into a fist and she finally turned to face him, meeting his eyes as she stood back up as best she could, the edge of the desk all that was supporting her; “I love you.”

The cane fell to the floor, useless and unnecessary, followed by Gregor’s cloak -- such was the force with which he stormed the stairs, shrugging off the new garment with ease. He crested each step with vigor, his limbs fueled by a strength that ran deeper than any wound or poison could impede, and he swept her up in his arms the very second he finally reached her. There would be no distance between them anymore. Gregor planted a kiss on her forehead, and another, and he wept freely. “Forgive me,” he whispered as he held her close, his shaking hands clinging to her without shame. “I was blinded by my anger, so blind that I could not see the good in your heart without calling it weakness.” He closed his eyes and laid his head against hers. “I love you too,” he breathed.

She smiled and kissed him back, brushing away the tears from his cheeks with her thumbs. “It’s alright. It’s alright now…” As she had done many times before, she traced her fingers down the back of his neck, holding him just as close as he held her. “I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner, I - we needed space. I needed time, it was selfish perhaps but I needed to be here… I’m sorry.” Her lips pressed to his forehead again, and she took in a deep breath of him before closing her eyes.

When Gregor opened his eyes again he saw Gaia once more, standing on the other side of Raelynn’s desk. Her hands were clasped in front of her and she beamed at him, proud and emotional, and she was crying too. Gregor gasped for breath. How he had longed to see his mother again, how much he had missed her -- not the shadow he had left behind, all that had remained of her after his father died, but the woman he remembered from his childhood. For her to appear now and guide him on the right path one last time… he could barely breathe, so full was his chest of gratitude and bittersweet sorrow. Thank you, he mouthed, and she nodded once, as if to say of course, before she disappeared.

“I understand,” Gregor said, returning his attention back to Raelynn. They could begin to heal now, not separately, but together. “I needed time as well. If you had tried to explain yourself to me before I was ready to come to you, I would not have understood. Hell, it was hard for me to get over myself as it stands.” His voice had regained some of its composure and he pulled back a little, his hands on her shoulders, so that he could look at her properly. “I like the hair,” he said and laughed, his tears drying up.

She ran her fingers across the clasps connecting the cape and it’s frame to her jacket to open them, and with a shrug of her shoulders it dropped off and fell behind her, giving her movement - allowing him to get closer to her. “It was Rhoka’s idea…” she smiled, playfully flipping it back over her shoulder with the back of her hand. Her face softened and her expression fell, but there was still an energy behind her eyes - a light. “I needed this time my love,” she bit her lip as she said the words, still trying to get used to having such feelings out in the open. “I had to learn that the fire inside of me burns far brighter than anything out there that would threaten me…”

“A good lesson to learn,” Gregor agreed. “And you remained true to yourself, even when I would have had you do otherwise. This,” he said and looked around the room, “this is very much you, isn’t it? I’ve never been to High Rock but this place looks like how I always imagined it. It’s beautiful. I saw that you were working when I came in. What were you doing?”

She smiled at his awe of the room, and her own eyes tracked his as they looked at everything. “This is my father, actually. He has always had a flair for this. In a way it is me, but this is his doing. It’s like he transported his shop right into Hammerfell. This is… where I grew up.” She sighed and allowed herself to look over the room too. It really was beautiful. She ran a finger over her lip as she pondered how best to explain to him what she had been doing, “many of the items you see here were… procured by him in Gilane. I’m simply recording them as inventory and estimating a price. He’ll be having them sent to High Rock soon enough I believe.”

“Of course. Handling precious things and judging them for their worth, who better for the task than Raelynn Hawkford?” he teased and gave her a playful nudge. All of his anger and resentment had disappeared like virgin snow in the spring sunshine and he looked like it had taken ten years off him; his eyes sparkled in the warm light and some color had returned to his cheeks. “Where is your father, by the way? I had already prepared myself for having to go through him to get to speak with you.”

Her eyes moved to the floor in a coy fashion at his flirtation, and she tucked a section of hair behind her ear before her pacing began again, this time it was slow and calm - her back straightened and she placed her hands together in front of her again. Like a noble woman would. “He left the morning after I arrived with Zhaib, to go to Hegathe. It seemed quite urgent, and so I’ve been taking care of everything in his stead.” Raelynn picked up the quill from the table, placing it carefully back into the ink pot beside it. “I haven’t done much else, I don’t even think I’ve left the house… There has been much to do within these walls.” Part of her felt slightly resentful that nobody had called to see her, perhaps they would not have known where to find her even if they had wanted to. It showed on her face when she looked to the side sharply.

Despite the urge to keep her close and hold her tight, Gregor let her resume her pacing and dropped his arms by his side. His exhaustion and the state of his body caught up with him now that the outburst of emotion had passed and he slowly sank down on a chair near Raelynn’s desk, stopping himself from groaning out loud as he did. He could easily picture how she had drifted through this room, keeping herself occupied and retreating into something as familiar as a slice of home. When she averted her gaze he felt a pang of sympathy. It had been just as hard on her as it had been on him.

“I did not tell anyone where you were,” he said eventually. Gregor had been certain that this was where he would find her, but he knew her better than anyone else, after all. “I figured you’d want to be left alone, like me. Not that I’ve spoken to many of the others, though. I haven’t been back to the hotel since…”

Gregor trailed off and looked out the window, focusing on keeping his breathing calm. He couldn’t think about his fight with Zaveed without feeling his heartbeat spike. It was like the event and the associated adrenaline and fear were seared into his bones. He looked back at Raelynn, her beauty and her grace, and realised he did not want to talk about what had happened to him since Raelynn’s departure just yet. He wasn’t ready to invite the outside world into their reunion.

“When you found me, I was dreaming,” he said softly. “The monster in the forest. It was taunting me with the last words of a man I killed many years ago. As I ran from it I came upon my old home. A safe place, or so I thought. It burned to the ground and I had to flee again. It was like my regrets and all of my guilt came back to see me off one last time…” Gregor took a deep breath. “But then you came and when you kissed me awake, it was my mother that sent me back to you,” he continued and smiled. Tears brimmed in his eyes. “It was like your touch brought me back to the good in the world. I’m so sorry I was angry with you. I should never have allowed the shadow of Zaveed to have so much power over us. I didn’t leave the inn, either. Just drank my sorrows away.” He wiped at his eyes and sighed. “I don’t know why I’m rambling like this. I’m sorry. Don’t mind me.”

She wasn’t sure how to respond, and so she held a silence for a while and stared over the room, her eyes hardened as she looked beyond everything around her. “I told you that our dreams bring us messages… Tell us things, lessons. I can only assume that the monster has left the recesses of your subconscious now?” She raised her thumb to her lips to nibble at it gently, while in thought. She snapped her eyes back to Gregor, a half smile on her lips. “I believe that you have it within you already to come back to the good of the world, as you say. All I did was some magic…” Her smile grew, and she made her way to the shelves again, running a finger across the mahogany.

She let herself go back to that night, it was her intense fear and guilt that had caused her magicka to spiral out of control. She had never experienced such a feeling, it felt almost like the streams of restoration were being pulled from her, instead of given. It had all helped him, of course, but she had felt weightless and powerless as it ran from her body and into him. She hadn’t been able to use it since. The truth was that her gift had burnt her that night. Confronted with Gregor now just reminded her that had she been in the room, she could have done a better job at healing him. She had saved his life, but it had torn him apart too. And what good was that? Her compassion to Zaveed had almost cost her everything - her gift to Zaveed had consequences. “I deserved your anger in that moment, I can’t find it in me to be aggrieved about it now.” Her voice was soft, and she gazed down at the floor again.

Gregor’s eyes lit up. “You know me better than I know myself, it seems. You’re right. I stabbed the beast between the eyes before I awoke and it hasn’t been back since.” He held out his hand to her. “Then let there be no further grievances between us again,” he added and tilted his head. “Something else is bothering you. What is it?”

“Just… a case of mind over matter, nothing more than that.” She lifted her gaze to meet him. He looked almost peaceful in the chair with his hand outstretched towards her, eyes brightened under the sun like that. How could she not smile at him and return to his side when he looked at her that way? He was still carrying pain in his limbs and chest, she could see it in the way he chose to slump backwards. As she walked back over she let her fingertips linger over his —deliberately choosing to barely touch them, in a kittenish manner with a smirk. She brought herself to his side again having made a lap of the room now and kissed his forehead.

“Very well, keep your secrets,” Gregor mumbled when she leaned over to kiss him and closed his eyes at the touch of her lips on his skin. Something, some ferocious tension within him, had uncoiled and he exhaled slowly, feeling his muscles begin to loosen up. “You know, it hurts to stretch,” he said and opened one eye to look up at her. “I don’t think I can apply that ointment you made everywhere it needs to be.” He knew he did not have to ask the question out loud, and he was glad. It pained him to have to ask for help.

“A shame,” she said in a faux serious tone, “if only you had someone to help you with those things,” she closed it off with a sigh, rolling her eyes around the room, before finally cracking a smile.

Off she went, slowly, down the steps towards the bowl on the table. Already it had lost much of the coolness but that wouldn’t lessen it’s healing effects. As she came back to him, she realised she would have to strip him of the bandages. She’d have to look upon his chest and scars again. It was her fault they were there, she should be confronted once more with them. A reminder of what she had done to him. The bowl was set down gently on the table, and she moved her hands to his chest, pausing to look him in the eye - as if seeking his permission, to remove them.

Despite himself, despite the fact that he asked for her help, Gregor almost flinched and felt himself tense right back up again when her fingers brushed against the bandages. He clenched his fists, bit his lip, inhaled sharply and felt his left foot bounce up and down rapidly on the floor. Panic frayed at the edges of his heart. He had already looked upon himself in the mirror the day after it happened but, for some reason, the trauma had only grown worse with every passing hour. It was like it had needed time to sink in and dig in deep and it was so much worse when someone else touched him there. Gregor forced himself to open his hands and stretch his fingers and he breathed out through his nose. Raelynn was looking at him, trying to meet his gaze, and when he finally met her eyes, his were filled with equal parts turmoil and determination. He nodded. Go ahead, he wanted to say, but he could not find his voice.

Before anything could be done about the bandages, she had to ease his trepidation. It would not do to treat him while he was in this state, and so she softened before him and drew to him calmly, moving her hands away from his chest entirely. She placed her finger under his chin delicately, lifting him to meet her lips where she placed as soft a kiss as she could, her hands moved to his hands and she caressed him with only the touch of her fingers and lips on his skin. “It’s alright,” she whispered against his neck as she brushed her lips there, “it’s just me.” Raelynn knew that despite her lack of magical abilities right now, they had their love - she hoped it would be enough to soothe him.

One hand found its way to the other side of his neck, her fingernails gently scratching him behind his ear as she continued to lay her kisses on him. Sometimes it was easier to tear a bandage off, sometimes it was not. This occasion was the latter. Memories of the wounds that were seared into her brain told her of a safe spot to start to remove them, and so she slipped her finger with an efficient ease between cloth and skin, pulling it free. That did it, and then she brought both of her hands to the buttons of his linen shirt, undoing them one by one in as sensual a manner as she could. When the last was unbuttoned, she slid the shirt away from his shoulders - as she had done many times before. “It won’t hurt,” she mumbled reassuringly. In a swift movement she brushed the bandaging away, freeing the wounds from their constriction and revealing them to Raelynn’s eyes. She didn’t flinch. They were as they had been when she had left him. Red, deep, and running across his skin like stripes. In a way, they reminded her of the scar that her hand bore from the nail. The only difference was, that she chose to let hers fester by choice - shame. Whereas Gregor had needed her, and she could have mended him.

Her kisses, her soft words, the way she took off his shirt, her patience, the affection in her eyes -- it made it all tolerable, but it also filled him with a deep, stifling grief that made him feel very small. She had listened to his vitriolic tirade, allowed him to come into her home and accuse her, without so much as a single ounce of retaliation. Even before he had visited her and come to his senses, she had dedicated her time, effort and resources to brewing a remedy for his pain. She had waited for him, in pain and longing, until he was ready. When he had come and realized what a fool he had been, she had told him that she loved him and now he felt it; everything about her positively radiated it. He turned his head aside while Raelynn looked upon his wounds and hot tears ran down his cheeks yet again as he tried not to cry, biting his lip to stop it from quivering and grabbing the chair tightly to stabilize himself.

He did not deserve such kindness. He knew it.

The gel was still cold enough to the touch as she held it in her hands, saving it for his chest. She had noticed that he had changed in demeanour, even if she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. It was as if a deep melancholy had broken through him. The way that his hands held so fiercely to the chair saddened her, only moments ago they were jubilant with each other, logically she knew it was to be expected. They both needed healing, but all she wanted was for him to hold and grip her as tightly again as he was the seat. It choked her to look at him too long like this. She had to ease his pain - and it would start with a simple remedy. What was required after was currently unknown to her, but they would figure it out together.

She had seen worse injuries many times, and she would see worse still - but on Gregor, there was a different layer to it. She was in love with him, and so anything that wounded him, she felt it too. This wasn’t a Nord from Skyrim who’d lost his leg and shredded his arm wrestling with a bear. This was Gregor. This was her Gregor. She owed him so much now. Her penance would start with this and she began to rub in the gel, slowly, but with firm movements and without moving her eyes from the scars.

He did not want to look her in the eye, so she would not tempt him, she just worked at his chest, shoulders, arms, and neck until the bowl was empty and his skin was left with a glossy sheen across it while the gel worked its way through the skin.

Suddenly she didn’t want to meet his eyes either, now that her job was complete, she was just face-to-face once more with the reality of the situation. Gregor had almost died. “Gregor I…” she started with her gaze drifting to the floor, her fingers still moving over his wounds. “I hadn’t given it much thought until I saw you again… But... You could have died because of me. I’m sorry, I should have been there and I wasn’t. You were there when I needed you, but I…” The treatment was done, and she slipped down to the floor, drawing her knees to her chest at a forlorn pace, her voice baleful and distant. “I failed you…”

She had no tears left within her to cry for him, so she settled for resting her chin on her knees and closing her eyes, lips trembling and voice wavering. Eyes dry. “Because of me you almost had it all taken from you, and yet you took the risk for me… I should have been there. And I wasn’t, and I hadn’t thought about it because I did save you - only just, Gods…” Her eyes opened, and she looked up at Gregor with a hurt expression. “But when I saw you - I don’t know, it’s like it suddenly hit me how it would feel to actually lose you now. I failed you.

The gel’s effect, now that the entire content of the bowl had been spread across his torso, was even better than the small dab of the the ointment he had applied earlier and Gregor finally exhaled before taking a deep, shuddering breath. He hadn’t even realized he had been holding hit in until then. He sniffled and breathed again, eyes closed, losing himself in the immense relief he felt as the pain slowly subsided. The wooden chair creaked as the tension on it from Gregor’s firm grip was released and his hands fell, limp, over the edge of the handrails.

He kept his eyes closed as he listened to her. It was as if she had helped to soothe his soul as well by taking the pain of his body away and Gregor felt, even when Raelynn brought it up again, that he truly wasn’t angry anymore. He took another deep breath, enjoying how it no longer agonized him, and turned his palms up. Magic sprang to life in his hands, pale blue wisps of light from far away, and he turned back to look at Raelynn at last. Some of his usual strength and conviction had returned to his face now, as the last of the chains around his heart uncoiled and slipped away, and he gazed down upon Raelynn with warmth and steel in his eyes in equal measure.

Perhaps it did not matter if he deserved such kindness or not. He needed it and she was willing to give it to him. With her, he could be a better, stronger person than before. “But I am still here. We are only human, Raelynn. Mistakes are inevitable. You told me you went looking for me -- I believe you. It was only rotten luck that we missed each other and you found him instead.” His voice was hoarse and drained from the weight of his emotions and his weariness, but she had rekindled his spark. He leaned forward and reached down to stroke her cheek with his hand and his face softened. “You did save me,” he whispered. “And you healed me. Thank you.” He mouthed the last two words with all the sincerity and emphasis he could muster.

“I did,” she said with a smile as she leaned into his touch and reached up to hold his hand with hers, intertwining her fingers with his, squeezing them tightly before releasing them again. “I did save you, I... “ She sighed, unable to bring it upon herself to continue with what she wanted to say. She wanted to respect that he was forgiving, and that he didn’t need anything else to be discussed regarding the matter. His forgiveness, and the way that he looked at her immediately set her at ease and she felt so warm and protected by him once more. She just stared up at him for a while, drinking him in. Every bit of him. “I can make more of that soon, too,” she chimed, snapping out of it, with life in her voice again as she picked the bowl up and walked it back to the cabinet. She allowed herself a pained glance at her own hands now that they were empty. She bit her lip, but didn’t stay there for too long, she wanted to be close to Gregor again. He was here and his presence excited her. She closed the glass doors and turned back to her paramour with a smile. “So, what now?”

Good question. Gregor got to his feet and donned his linen shirt again. He cast a glance at the bandages, which had been for comfort as much as they had been to hide his scars behind, but he felt that he no longer needed them. He did not have to be ashamed of something that could not hurt him any longer. He paced around the mezzanine now, echoing Raelynn’s movements from before, while he rolled his shoulders and stretched his arms. It felt good. The ointment hadn’t taken care of the trembling in his fingers, he noticed with a pang of disappointment. The nerve damage would take more than that to heal. Still, he was almost back to normal functionality, now that his arms were no longer stiff and painful, and that was enough.

“Now that we have reconciled and the worst of my… discomfort, as it were, has been taken care of, we can turn our eyes to the future,” Gregor mused and ran his fingers across the spines of the books he walked past. “Which is something that I have not given much thought until now. I think our priority should be to return to the others, wherever in Gilane they might be. We should stay with them. I still have my quest to complete and being embedded within the resistance against the Dwemer is my best shot at doing so,” he said and looked at Raelynn. He frowned, quizzical and somewhat sheepish. “What do you want? I’m sorry, I didn’t even think to ask. You have your work here now, of course.”

Raelynn chuckled to herself at his question. “Ah, please Gregor, we both know this isn’t my work - this is filling time, once my father returns I’ll have no need to be here.” She followed his footsteps, arriving by his side, “I will go where I’m needed - and that’s with our group. With you.” She turned to face him, straightening up the collar of his shirt against his neck with a sultry smile. “There is more that I want us to do, to achieve. I have found a way in which I can help you…” The Breton placed a hand on the bookshelf, tracing a finger across the spines as Gregor did. “I want to dedicate some time to my Alchemy, to study and improve my skills - there are things I can create that will help you in your quest, help us.” If she couldn’t learn the art of Necromancy, she would expand her knowledge of what she already knew. When Gregor had first sacrificed N’blec’s soul to his Ideal Master, she had wondered where she would fit in with his quest - aside from being his companion. She didn’t want to just live as an observer to his journey, she wanted to guide and assist him to the Ascension that he deserved.

“I’ve had a lot of quiet time here. Time to reflect on everything, and it only makes me firmer in my resolve to be there with you, Gregor. Wherever you go, I will be there… If you’ll have me.” Saying the words, being back by his side - the nightmare that was Zaveed now behind them - it empowered her. It was time to get back to where they had been. No more distractions. Raelynn smiled up at him again, burning desire steadily returning as she met his eyes with her own. “Of course…” she began with a flirtatious undertone, “I may feel especially put out if you make us go back to the hotel so soon... Can’t we just have some time to ourselves? Just a little more time…” Her head tilted to the side and her lips pouted. There was an alluring glint in her eyes that gave suggestion as to exactly what was on her mind.

Gregor put his hands on Raelynn’s waist and felt his heartbeat quicken when it became obvious what her desires were. She was right, it had been too long since they had been able to enjoy each other’s company to the fullest, and now that Gregor’s body had been fixed, he found that he wanted to put it to good use. “Of course I’ll have you,” he said softly and kissed her after allowing himself a small smile at the double entendre. He wasn’t rough but he wasn’t tender either -- he kissed her with passion and authority and pulled her body against his, her rich clothes a sharp contrast against the ordinary linens of his own. The thought of having her in her own father’s home, the scandal of it, thrilled him. Salasoix would hate it and that meant that Gregor loved it. “Lead the way, my love,” he murmured as his hands ran over her body, slipping beneath the fabric at opportune places while a dastardly mischief alighted his eyes.

Her own hands ran through his hair and she had to restrain herself from tearing open the shirt she had only just been so careful with, “I missed you so much,” she growled into his ear longingly, the way that he touched her only spurring on her lust. She began to lead him to her desk with little elegance in her step - just impatient desperation. With a swift motion of her hand she brushed off the rolled parchments and they bounced down the steps of the mezzanine with a hollow echo. The inkpot rolled over the edge and smashed on the floor but she didn't care - she was beyond feeling graceful as she sat and leaned back on the desk, her hands seizing at the hems of his shirt to pull him close. She came up to meet him, a hand grasped firmly at the back of his neck so she could pull him close enough to kiss him and whisper against his lips, “I missed everything about you… Tell me I’m yours,” she commanded in an assertive purr.

“Oh, you are,” Gregor murmured while his fingers worked to undo Raelynn’s gold-trimmed jacket; now that his heart was soaring and adrenaline flooded his system, his fingers were perfectly still once more. He kissed her neck and her chest after he finished, his hands roughly groping at her now-naked skin, leaving the imprint of his fingers, before he looked her in the eye again and wrapped a hand, gently but firmly, around her throat. “You are mine, and mine alone.”

Raelynn was so consumed by Gregor, that she had not noticed that the sun had disappeared behind the clouds, and that sunset was kicking in. The room was slowly filling with shadows now, pooling darkness that almost ran the length of the room, muting the colours and dimming the light. She looked at him again, pure infatuation was etched across her features and she wanted him to see it, she wanted him to lose control in the throes of passion…

It was then that she knew that they weren't going to just be alright, but that they were stronger now. Unstoppable.


A Very Vengeful New Life





‘Twas the week before New Life,
And all through the Town,
Everyone was dancing,
There was nary a frown.

With joy in their hearts,
And a spring in their step,
Our party of adventurers,
Arrive in style to prep.

In a sleigh pulled by horses,
Through inches of snow,
In Whiterun they appeared,
With gifts in tow.

For the children and orphans,
And those in great need,
But something was stirring,
Oh, something indeed.

As our party of friends,
Made their way to the bar,
A sneaker was sneaking,
Watching from afar.

A terrible fiend,
With green skin and sad heart,
Mr Frinch was his name,
And he tore the Sleighs apart,

Off he went through the night,
With the gifts in a sack,
But Miss Bindy Lou the Breton,
Had been eating her snack,

By her window in her room,
With her cat on her lap,
She watched Mr Frinch do his doings
And she professed it was CRAP.

But that is not all,
That is seemingly afoot,
A grumpy old miser,
Named Ebeneezer Splut

Imposing his taxes,
Throughout the land,
Stealing septims and food,
And all fun was BANNED.

Over on the other side,
Was a boy home alone,
His parents had left him,
And his siblings were grown,

Young Cavan on a mission,
To solve a little crime,
To foil the Sticky Bandits,
And have them doing time

He set up his house,
With traps galore,
Arrows ready to fire,
And marbles on the floor,

And last but not least,
The cause of the Storm,
A sister with more Magic,
And her personality less than lukewarm…

Miss Edith and Miss Emma,
Orphan sisters of Whiterun,
Miss Edith with a gift,
Miss Emma a sense of fun…

And so now we go back,
To join our friends,
And I, Sanguine,
Will be back when the story ends…

So for all of you here,
Enjoy and be merry,
Live, laugh, and love,
For this could even get scary…

Keep your wits about you,
And don’t make a peep,
For this New Life Festival,
Will bring a Vengeance of the Deep…




This is a closed, private roleplay for current members of the Vengeance of the Deep roleplay only
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