Because it’s not Wednesday anymore but WHO CARES! I was tagged by both @dirty-bosmer,@dumpsterhipsterand@atypicalacademic Thank you lovelies!

I’ll tag: @henbased@asaara-writes@theggning@theartofblossoming@sheirukitriesfandom@nostalgic-breton-girl@sad-arcana-au and really whoever wants to do this :D

Here’s some uh Camille and Julian because I am perpetually Arcana trash uwu/

And there it was. A kiss. Soft. Warm. Sending rivers of lightning down his veins as their lips met. He could taste the wine on Camille’s lips, smelled the gentle cologne he used, felt how soft his skin was.

Oh God, he did not want to break away. And yet, Camille did.

“There, one kiss,” he said with a sad sort of smile. Their foreheads were still pressed against each other, and Camille had taken to playing with one of Ilya’s stray curls in between his fingers.

“Well…” Ilya felt sheepish. “Well that wasn’t really my best. Mind if I try again?”

“Try again?”

“It’s supposed to be a goodbye kiss, no?”

“Yes?”

“Well then, it could do with a little more drama. One more time?”

“Alright.”

“With feeling.”

Tagged by the lovely @dumpsterhipster♥

This is pretty much the end of Thursday but screw it, I never make these things on time anyway and I’m back from a break so!

Tagging@dirty-bosmer@theggning@asaara-writes@atypicalacademic@eegplamt@8bitpizzacoupons@henbased and whoever else that wants to do this.

How’s about some Fallout flavors for today?

“And her robot?”


“Need I remind you Haylen is also a Scribe?”



Danse looked over Anderson’s shoulder, watching Parker talking to Haylen, smiles and laughter passed freely between the two as if they were long lost friends. He didn’t trust her, didn’t like the look of this. With all the influence the Brotherhood had bolstered over the years, he was no stranger to how his chapter’s ideals had made just as many enemies as it did allies. He wouldn’t put it past a particularly jaded Enclave officer to take matter into his own twisted hands.


But he was getting ahead of himself.


“Fine.”


Paladin Anderson cracked a wicked grin, the same one he hated on her. Lopsided and smug and too clever for her own good. “Knew you’d see the light, Big Guy.”


“We are senior officers, Paladin Anderson. Please use my actual title and address.”


“Baby, you can make me call you whatever we like once we get the part Haylen needs, hey? Until then, you’re Big Guy.”

Tagged by @henbased because why not?

Tagging:@dirty-bosmer@dumpsterhipster@asaara-writes@theggning@atypicalacademic and whoever else that wants to do this! (just say I tagged you!)

This isn’t six sentences at all, but… here’s a WIP I’m fond of since I’m feeling very Lee lately~ 

There was a quiet anger hovering over Lee as he sat at the dining table, glaring at the serving of mashed tatoes and roast meat. The only sign it had ever been touched were the small indents left by a fork. But not a bite had been taken.

Carol wiped her hands down the sides of her skirt, giving Lee a watery smile, “Not hungry, sweetie?”

Greta could see the anger rippling behind Lee’s eyes, the way his gaze shifted every which way but meeting Carol’s own imploring stares. He sighed, and shook his head. “I’m not, sorry. Thought I was.”

Carol, bless her, did what she could to battle the dark, angry cloud that seemed to hover over Lee. “Oh well, don’t worry, we can keep this for later. You could have it for breakfast! Or… whenever you like.”

Always dancing around the problem, her Carol, too sweet and too soft to ever confront anyone or anything head on. But that’s what Greta was for.

“You alright, Lee?” She looked at the youngster slumping in his seat, her eyes carefully regarding him.

He didn’t respond.

“You’ve been out of it for a while, kiddo,” Greta folded her arms across her chest, “You wanna talk about it?”

His continued silence was all the answer they needed.

Something so divine

For@tes-summer-fest | Prompt: Divine & Language

Small spoilers for Crossed by Magnus. Or rather, its sequel, huehue.

✨‍♀️

Solitude isn’t like Kynesgrove at all. There’s so many people from so many places, it makes me forget that I’m in Skyrim at all. I’ve only ever heard about the sand warriors from Hammerfell, but here they all sit on their beautiful rugs and sell this potent drink that’s earth and dark. “Wakes you up like nothing else,” he promises, before Pa pushes us further to get what we need for the day.

Even here, housed in some noble’s estate, I still feel out of place. “Your home is my home,” he says, but even when I’m tired I feel guilty for sleeping on the bed. It’s not the same. Nothing’s the same, and I doubt things ever will be again.

“What’cha doing?” I turn to see Celeste, the lord’s youngest sister leaning against the door to my room. She’s got a half eaten apple in one hand, and in the other, she offers a little packed treat to me. “Alrek’s gone off so I had the servants fetch you a little pick-me-up.”

I smile when I take the package. Feels like pastry from the sound of it. “Thank you, but I’m not that hungry.”

“Save it for later then,” Celeste winks before taking another too-large bite out of her apple. “Doing anything today?”

I sigh and look away. Back home I had all sorts of things to do, tending to the chickens, helping Ma, and when the chores were done I could head down and walk along the river or dip my feet into the hot springs with Onmund. But here, in the serenity of a large, beautiful manor with every need of mine cared for… I don’t know how to answer. Even Frigga’s asleep on a stack of pillows.

“I’m sorry,” I didn’t realize I hadn’t answered. “I don’t know… what can we do around here?”

“Lots!” Celeste throws herself on one of the large ornate chairs in the room, her skinny little legs hanging off everywhere, like she wasn’t some daughter of an important family. “Depends on how much trouble you’re willing to tolerate.”

I must sound like a bore to her when I say, “Not… not very much. Is there something… safe to do?”

To my surprise, Celeste gives me a wicked grin and says, “Oh, lots then!” She finishes off her apple and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. “Did your parents take you around already?”

I shake my head. Ma and Pa dare not venture too far. “Just the markets. And a bit of the stables. Not much farther than that.”

“Boo! Why didn’t you say anything?” Celeste gets off with a jump. “What do you wanna see first? There’s the temple, loads of tourists like that. There’s the gardens, I love getting lost in the maze! Oh, we can see my brother where all the knights and soldiers train…”

As she’s rattling off places off her fingers, one of them still lingers in my mind.

“Can we go see the temple?” I didn’t mean to cut her off. “Please?”

“Sure!” She reaches over to me and takes my hand in hers, smaller than mine but the way she grips it is terrifyingly strong. “Come on, you can ride with me!”

Everything’s a blur when she drags me through the halls of the manor, down to the private stables, and we’re both up on her beautiful chestnut horse, strolling through the city as though she owned it. I hold on tightly to her, suddenly so aware of the way people move out of their way, some even bowing and offering her wishes. 

“Don’t mind them, they think my family’s divine or something.” 

“Are they?”

“Of course not, but what they don’t know won’t hurt them. Besides, saves the horse from stomping all over them.”

I blanch at the thought, but Celeste keeps riding on. She weaves through the main district like she knows this part of the world, even throwing a few Nordic to the Imperial soldiers who greet her.

“Do you know them?” I ask.

“Brother’s friends, they’re funny!”

I’m envious, how easily she speaks to soldiers and knights and warriors and nobles like they were nothing more than— well, I suppose they are her peers, aren’t they? People she would know. The more I think about it the more self-conscious I feel. Almost like an intruder.

“I’m not troubling you am I?”

“Of course not. What? Am I expected to sit in that house all day?”

“I…” I’m not sure how to answer. I admit, I don’t really know what nobles do all day. “What… do you normally do?”

“This,” she gestures to the horse, to the city. “Can’t stand sitting in that house, to be honest. It’s all talk of war and honor and blah blah blah… I hate it.”

“I see…” Must be easy for nobles to pretend the war isn’t brewing under their noses. 

“Besides— Oh look at that! We’re here. Come on, you’ll like it.”

When Celeste said ‘temple’ I had merely thought… well, of the sort of temples that one might see in a place like Kynesgrove. Nothing more than a wooden shack with a few pews lining the inside and a small, poorly made shrine at the end of it. Even the bigger ones, like the one in Windhelm that we go to every Saturalia, is old and worn and too small to accommodate everyone.

But the one here? It’s like stepping into another world all together. I’m reminded of the stories Onmund told me, the one from his books about the other provinces. The Altmer and their crystal towers, the Bretons and their ivory castles, the Redguards and their jeweled cities. It feels foreign and familiar at once. I don’t know where to look first.

“See? I knew you’d like it.” I feel Celeste’s hand in mine, realizing I must have been standing there like a fool with my jaw all slack.

“I’ve never seen anything like this.”

“Well, now you have.” Celeste pulls me in further to what looks like a courtyard. There are flowers everywhere, blossoming with impossible colors, the likes of which I’ve never seen. A small fountain babbles along in the center of it all, where everyone seems to congregate, tossing their hard-earned coins into the water. This is a temple? 

“This is just the outside though, the inside’s much better.”

I didn’t dare believe Celeste until she pulls me past the large double doors, offering a greeting to the priestesses there. It is serene inside. Quiet and calm, the noise of the outside world gone. Overhead the small tinkling of windchimes could be heard, and another small fountain dominates the inside. Followers of different faiths pray quietly and reverently at the shrines of their chosen, but I cannot help but stare fixed at the stained glass windows that seem to line every wall. The colors are beautiful in the afternoon light, painting everyone and everything in it in a beautiful clash of colors. My world before, Kynesgrove and the hot springs, feel so small in comparison to what I was seeing before my very eyes.

Large shrines and statues of the Divines are placed in different alcoves of the temple. I count them off, Akatosh, Dibella, Julianos, Mara, Kyne, Arkay, Stendarr, Zenithar… and one that stands empty. I swallow. 

“You know how it is,” Celeste whispers, almost in apology.

“I know.”

“Who else do you worship?” Celeste asks, as if I’m the most interesting person here, in this amazing, splendid, wonderful house of the faith.

“Kyne, mostly. Because, well, you know. We can’t… you know.”

“I understand.” She leads me to Kyne’s alcove, her name and her prayers etched onto a brass plaque in different languages and writing. “Here, I’ll give you a minute.”

I offer a quiet prayer, nothing much, just the swift return of my siblings back to Solitude, so too the kind noble who had helped us. But as I end my prayer and offer what little I have to Kyne, I can’t help but notice the stack of gleaming coins piled in the empty alcove where Talos once stood. I add another, quieter prayer, whispered only in my heart. ‘Please ask Talos, for me, to help bring them all home safely. That the dragons don’t hurt anyone else.’

When I finished, I make my way to Celeste, bathed in the pretty colors from the stained glass. 

“D’you know, in High Rock, we’ve got twelve Divines?”

“Twelve?”

“Imagine saying that! By the Twelve!” Celeste giggles, but quickly quiets down when a priest glares at her. “We’re not a very religious lot, you know, the Bretons. You only find us in a temple when we run into a bad streak at the betting tables, or when we’ve run afoul of another noble family.” She says it like a joke, but I wonder how much of it was true. Onmund’s stories told us how Bretons felt no shame in seeking their faith in other places.

I dare not say the word, though I wonder with her speaking about her other siblings, if Celeste’s family had also turned to such teachings.

I suppose it would be rude of me to assume something like that of someone who had helped my family. I snuff the thought away as Celeste leads me away, back outside and into the sunshine.

“Anywhere else you’d like to see?” she asks. “The day’s ours!”

“Take the lead, I’ll follow.”

In the grander scheme of things, I suppose there could be worse fates. I still mourn the loss of our home, our small little life back in Eastmarch. But here, in this grand city full of beautiful buildings and wonderful strangers, I suppose it could only be the plans of the Divines to place my family somewhere so safe and so special. And I’m happier still to find a friend in Celeste.

Day 2: The lightning between us

For@tes-summer-fest | Storms & Magic

***

It’s hard to tell them why I flinch when I hear that crack of thunder. You could barely hear the rain hitting the roof in the noisy halls of Jorrvaskr, everyone fighting for elbow room at the crowded tables. But when the thunder rolls in, everyone stops for a second. Like they’re all just holding their breath for something… and then everyone’s back to shouting over each other.

And I’m always left there, nursing my drink and staying real quiet. 

Aela asks if I was always afraid of thunder, if that was the one thing that scared me stupid. Ria says there’s nothing to be ashamed of, that she gets jumpy even at night. Athis laughs us all off, says that in Morrowind, the lightning’s ten times as worse and five times as loud. Farkas doesn’t push or prod or does any of those things, he just asks if I need a minute and if my mug needed topping off.

I always say yes, because every time I hear the thunder, every time I see lightning flashing through the windows, I always think of Onmund.

Not everyone knows, not here. I figure since I’m not really a Companion, they don’t always have to know. But Farkas does, he knows the story. I think I might have told Aela once, and maybe Ria. The story of how I caught Onmund nearly setting fire to the dry grass outside Kynesgrove, fooling about with his magic. The season had been poor, everyone had been struggling, we didn’t need a mage setting fire to the whole village.

And no matter how much I tried to bluster with my anger, no matter how much I try to be bigger than him, I was always afraid of admitting how frightened I was of him. My own brother, the one I helped feed and change when Ma was too busy in the fields. The same one I taught how to swing an axe, or consoled when people had made fun of the way he spoke. I was afraid of him. I was afraid of his magic.

It haunts me, to think that I could think that way, feel that way about my own blood. Onmund was always a gentle sort, always saw a softer world. Why did the Divines give him powers like that? Why couldn’t he have been a healer? The alderman would have seen fit to place him in a temple, someplace safe where he wouldn’t have to worry about his next meal. 

“Hey, got you more.” Farkas shakes me out of my thoughts, and just in time. My stomach begins to rumble and he puts down a plate of fried everything; sausages and potatoes and thick, fatty chunks of salmon. All served with a dollop of Tilma’s snowberry jam.

“Thanks.”

“Got lost in your head there.”

“Sorry, it’s… it’s hard.”

“I know.” Farkas never seems to run out of optimism. I’m half tempted to ask if Belethor happens to keep them in stock. “But we’ll fix it.”

“I don’t think there’s anything to fix.” I slump in my seat, poking at the sausage. “He’s a mage, end of story. Not a lot we can do about that.”

“Sure.” Farkas takes a big bite out of his own plate, speaking with a mouth full of food. It’s kind of charming. “But how much trouble can he get into?” He takes a big swallow. “After all, he’s your brother and you’ve got a good head on your shoulders.”

“Nice of you to say.”

“I mean it.” Farkas leans over and claps me on the shoulder. “But let’s take things one day at a time, got a lot to do tomorrow.”

Right, I had almost forgotten—

BOOM!

I yelp in shock at the thunder practically rattles the whole hall, followed by an explosion of laughter and the clinking of mugs.

And to my embarrassment, I had jumped right into Farkas’s chest.

Thecad.

He laughs at my reaction, a rumbly sound that puts a smile to my face. “Don’t worry, that one got me good too.”

Farkas stayed with me for the rest of the night before we headed off on our next journey. And for a while, with him by my side, the thunder didn’t quite scare me as much.

CHAPTER 27

And then Svana felt a chilling touch along her neck. She turned around and fell backwards, dropping the torch as she landed, screaming and pointing at the spectral being that jumped at her. 

By Talos, it was a ghost! Glowing and translucent with a menacing, otherworldly grin. “You’ve disturbed my rest!” it shrieked. “Now you’ll pay for it!”

READ ON AO3

wip wednesday, finally

Good googly moogly I can’t believe this is actually done on a Wednesday my time!

Anyway! I was tagged by @dumpsterhipsterand@henbased so let’s this rolling?

I tag: @atypicalacademic@eegplamt@jjgremlinson@nuclearstorms and whoever else that wants to do this!

But as quickly as it came into view, Ilya soon found himself deeper and deeper into the wing. And the closer they came to the personal wing of Count Lucio, the more ostentatious the decorations became. Everything glittered in gold. Everything was draped with a cardinal red hue. ‘Like blood.’ He knew of Count Lucio’s rise to fame, after all, he was the one to cut his arm off during that bloody battle which saved Count Spada’s life. But seeing the ascension of a ruthless mercenary turned figurative son for a count looked differently from afar. Here, before the gaudy ornaments that seemed to clutter all around him, Ilya wondered if he should have just taken Camille and ran.

They arrived before two large doors, the entrance to the private wing. The Chamberlain stopped Ilya from proceeding. “We need protective gear, the Count is dreadfully sick.” Ilya heard him mumble something foul under his breath, but Ilya didn’t catch it.

Ehehe