“You will not touch her!”
awww, so brave and charming💚
@crownedwithashes / crownedwithashes.tumblr.com
awww, so brave and charming💚
//i have not been here in ages what's everyone congregating on these days (other than discord)??
//thing in progress from my dearest whatdo
> 𝙝𝙚𝙮! if you’re an active 𝙀𝙡𝙙𝙚𝙧 𝙎𝙘𝙧𝙤𝙡𝙡𝙨 roleplayer, like / reblog this post? Morrowind, Oblivion, Skyrim, ESO; canon, oc; single muse, multimuse – everyone is included!
Jewel honestly hated being serious but she knew this was a time to be it, he was honestly quite scary and she knew if he and the other vampires picked up on her fear it was the end most likely. She suppressed most of the fear even though some still remained hoping it wasn’t overwhelming, listening to the vampire lord Jewel relaxed slightly as he made the offer.
He wanted to show her that he was different from Harkon, a good sign so far and it made her smile slightly. Keeping her voice even as she spoke after he finished.
“I will accept your offer as I will keep my hands where you can see them and maybe while we walk if you have any questions for me about anything, I can answer to the best of my knowledge if that is worth anything.”
Jewel knew that other vampires didn’t trust strangers let alone a vampire khajiit, so she hoped that keeping her hands seen and empty would be a good sign of faith. As she kept her hands across her chest to show where they are and not near her weapons or anything of his.
-
"Fash not, lass," said Rowan. "I'll make my own judgment in due time, should there be any. Come."
Down the somber stretch of corridor he led her, the only present sound coming from his footsteps, and hers, and the erratic crackling of the small torches. He came to the high iron bars of the kennel, where the hounds lay in wait for an order, for a fresh meal, or allotment of time to wander at their leisure.
There he stopped, and presented a hand to her in question.
"Could you offer me... more? You live where Skyrim's heart beats strongest, among the wilds. I wonder if you've any skill in scouting. Surely you must."
“Honestly I don’t know, not the first time we have been labeled outcasts by our own supposed kind. I just have a shred of hope that you aren’t like that tyrant Harkon. If you’re anything like that then I might as well be outcasted once more.”
Jewel would keep her eyes on Rowan, never looking away as she spoke so she would be letting him see if she was lying. So far she wouldn’t and she prayed in her mind that he saw this.
“Freedom is nice and all, but how can one enjoy it if they’re constantly watching their back for blade or arrow? Why is peace important to me? I am tired of needless bloodshed, I know people see our kind as monsters, I know I’m a monster, but do I have to act like one? No, I choose not to. It might not be a great reason but I treat people as people, not cattle and I will admit that I have killed supposed kin who wanted to harm people I watch over though that was when Harkon was still around. They got enough to worry about. War, Dragons, Daedra and all that.”
If she was going to die here, at least her brother was safe and that she died for a reason she believed in as she prepared for the worst from the vampire lord.
-
His chin lifted as he assessed her, lips cracked just ajar that the tips of his fangs were in view. Bewilderment had not yet abandoned him. Had he actually progressed so far with the rogues they were coming to him now? Had his warning - his trails of blood, when words were no use - cut through the night so deeply?
If only it was as easy with the rest of them.
Is she trying to distract me? The query formed as he absorbed her stream of hopes and reassurances. If she lied, and her brother was here in hiding, waiting to help her dispose of him, they'd find little success. Nevermind his own abilities and his numerous guards, he smelled his old sire lurking somewhere - Cormag was quick to dismiss his interest in any goings on within the Volkihar coven, but Divines forbid a new vampire showed up without his knowing. Territorial bastard.
"I'll offer a token of my trust," said Rowan, letting down his imposing gesture. "A token that can be reclaimed should I decide a mistake was made, on your part and mine. You're uncertain how far removed I am from Harkon's methods - I will give you the chance to see the rest of the main castle and decide for yourself. By my side, of course."
Solurion growled at the suggestion that he would not help an innocent traveler fallen victim to some strange misfortune. What nerve this man had, questioning the integrity of a mer who had served Auri-El for centuries. As he finished his final prayer, the old elf sat up, faded eyes scanning the undead aura before him. “I took vows when I became a healer in the Temple of Auri-El: to aid all as well as I am able, and to serve our greatest ancestor faithfully,” he said, his voice as frigid as the snow drifting down from the hazy winter sky. “Though I was never as… zealous as my brothers and sisters, I take those promises very seriously.”
The light from the vampire’s hands faded, leaving them burning and uncomfortable; still, it was a small price to pay to protect these people from necromancers who would have taken advantage of their misfortune. He winced as he pulled a pair of gloves from his satchel and slipped them on before turning back to the stranger. “Sound and magic, actually,” he said simply. “I have never had the most keen sense of smell, though my affliction has helped.” There was no reason to admit that his Ayleid heritage helped with his vision— not to a total stranger, certainly. “What brings you this way, then, if not hunting?”
-
The vampire lord knelt still, clad adversely in his dark kilt and armor before his stark white surroundings, but just as frozen - however wary of any new vampires to cross his path, Rowan couldn't deny a budding trace of respect for this mer, whether that managed to come across in his terrible red gaze, or no.
All he knew of the Temple of Auri-El, its Knights, and its Prelates, had come from Gelebor decades ago. Maybe there was something to learn from this new acquaintance.
"If that is true, then our priorities have something in common," he muttered.
The question posed of him wrought reluctance. The smell of blood wasn't consistent with his professions of good deeds, but it wasn't his main calling at the moment. He'd strayed course to make sure no one in the cavern had died. Unfortunately he was too late.
"Magic," he reiterated with some surprise, rising up to his feet. "I've never heard of such a thing being useful for direction. Probably because I'm shite with it."
A steady breath, and then the truth.
"I'm searching for someone... a trusted companion of mine. She disappeared without a word, years ago. I ken not the reason. Futile it may be for my stubborn heart to hope... it is not in me to give up and leave her to an unknown fate."
Arrowhead (Yanonē), Metropolitan Museum of Art: Arms and Armor
The Collection of Giovanni P. Morosini, presented by his daughter Giulia, 1932 Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, NY Medium: Steel
I have a question for Rowan, how does he stay sane/busy if he has to stay in his castle for long periods of time? Maybe a mortal and their two little immortals can get some advice? (lunarexplorers)
"I keep to this castle often, mo charaid - this is my home, the vampires my flock to tend. The work of my immortal life stands here. But... my charges test me on the best of days, and my work can be long and tedious. For me, the company of animals abates this, when Runa, Eligius, and the grandbairns aren't here. It's a relief to feel the dogs lay at my feet, beastly as they are. I leave a wee bone or two by my writing desk and my chair by the fire to invite them," he chuckled.
"My skulking sire has a talent for the Vagrant's Harp. He brings it to my quarters when I'm buried under parchment... It's quite nice simply to listen and be embraced by the culture we each left behind, if I'm too focused to lend my voice. All this prolongs my sanity."
HEY, you all be safe and mindful in these uncertain and frightening times, and if anyone needs to talk to let go of some stress, whether related to ongoing events or not at all, you're welcome to talk to Rowan or myself.
Rowan was stung by a pang of guilt as she retreated even slightly; his damned animal had brought her to it, he knew, but there was little else to be done. Acràs would break through any binding, and vengefully, as past experience led him to believe. Better to leave him be than try tethering him to anything for the lassie’s sake of mind, and garner his wrath.
“Nor I,” he chimed, catching her quiet remark. “Until that fateful raid, my knowledge of beasts contracting the dark gift was limited to hounds.”
His pack was a truly harrowing sight to anyone unwelcome in Castle Volkihar. On any given night, one could find a dozen or more roaming the place, scenting the air for those who didn’t belong.
He accepted her answer with a shallow nod. “I’m going back North from a job I took not far from here. My home is on the sea.”
“So that’s what death hounds are?” she asked, a note of curiosity in her voice. Fearful, but curiosity nonetheless. “I thought the vampires always just… did something to them. Like necromancy.” She paused. “The noses, y’know.”
Ori rubbed Arvak’s skeletal nose as he pressed his face into her shoulder and nibbled her robe, begging for a treat. “I guess that’s one thing I don’t have to worry about with him.”
The vampire’s remark made her pause. “You live on the coast, too?” she asked, ears flicking then settling back. “What job takes you so far away from home?” Don’t say eating people. Please don’t say eating people.
"Necromancers are able to keep their thralls standing for only so long. Even the most powerful of their ilk can't prevent an undead follower from disintegrating," ruminated Rowan. "Spellwork might play a part in the creatures' transformation, but to what length, I don't know. The dogs in my kennels are all taken from vampire dens that were destroyed. Previously changed, ye ken. I have never forced one to endure the process... It must be traumatic."
He had nothing to hide. Skyrim's people called for his aid time and time again; they knew his station, and they did not fear him. It was his hope this mer would prove no different.
"On an island past Solitude, aye. Do you know of the Keep beyond the fog? Some ferrymen would have warned you to steer clear," he laughed gentle. "My coven is not as swift to make meals of visitors as it used to be, but I suppose I can't blame a man for holding to skepticism."
He waved towards Acràs. "I mentioned finding this creature in the deep reaches of a vampire nest. It wasn't by chance I ended up there." A pause, possibly to let her try and gather his meaning for herself. "I cull troublemakers. Vampires who would make it hard for me to live the life I've worked for, should they find success in what they do."