Hello, hello! I'm new to the meme, so if I muck something up, I apologize! Anyway, this is just an introductory chapter, and hopefully it sparks some interest because this prompt really inspired me.
The air was thick with drizzle – that hazy, gray mist that Skyrim was prone to. Audric tended his fire, kept it alive in spite of the rain. He could hardly enjoy it, however, as huddling for warmth was futile and he had only a few measly potatoes in the way of food. With some perseverance, he could probably have reached Ivarstead by a little after midnight, but the weather and the road had beaten most of the perseverance out of him. Instead, he settled for a nook in the mountains and prayed he wouldn’t waken waterlogged – that was, if he slept at all.
The wind howled fiercely through the crags, shrill and unforgiving. His time in Skyrim, short as it was, hadn’t hardened his bones against the cold, so he shivered, falling not so much into sleep as into despondency. He tossed and turned on the lumpy ground, half-dreaming in fits and starts of a warm hearth and spiced mead, of a bed and a someone or two to share it with.
He did not wait for dawn to break before packing up and moving on.
The rain persisted, following him into the foothills of the Rift, a dark cloud chasing after him. Thunder rumbled from above outstretched fingers of birch trees and Audric cursed his dumb luck. Somewhere out there, he figured, Nocturnal was having herself a bloody good laugh.
The sky began to clear just as the little hamlet came into view. Typical.
Though it would bore him half to death, if ever he were forced to stay, Audric loved the villages that dotted the province. Ivarstead in particular was a frequent haunt of his, given the company he often kept. And sure enough, Lynly was there to serve him a hot meal and a few sweet words when he arrived, soaked, inside the Vilemyr.
“Well hello stranger,” she smiled, “long time, no see.”
Frowning, he scoffed, “Oh, it’s only been – what – a few days? A week, at the most.”
“Try almost a month,” she admonished, hand firmly on her hip.
“No.” He apologized then; Audric had a horrible knack for losing track of time. He often got swept up in the places he visited and the people he met there. “I will make it up to you, I promise.”
“I’m certain you will.” With a wink, she left to tend to the other patrons. As delightful as a roll with Lynly always was, he wasn’t sure he was up to it after his trek. He hoped she would give him a day or two to recover before demanding her recompense.
Ten hours of good, hard sleep in a soft bed under a roof saw Audric feeling infinitely more himself. Sleepily, he wandered out into the hall, barefoot. The day was late and dusk filtered in through the high windows, gentle and pale. Sitting at the bar, he cracked his back and plied Wilhelm for news. Of course, there was almost never any big news for Wilhelm to report, only small scraps of gossip or the local tragedies and victories alike – all small, all trivial. And that was precisely why Audric liked to ask. Since that fateful day at the chopping block, Audric’s life had been inundated with big news. Harsh realities and victories so bittersweet, they doubled back into tragedies. He liked small news. It settled his stomach.
Over a steaming bowl of tomato soup, he was handed a wedding invitation. “Oh, that was sweet of Fastred. I love weddings.”
Wilhelm nearly choked. “That’s...weddings don’t seem the type of ceremony that suit you,” he tried politely. “In fact, ceremony in general doesn’t really suit you, my friend.”
Audric chuckled, patiently stirring his soup, waiting for it to cool some. “Perhaps not, but I like a good party, as long as I’m only a guest.”
“Never the guest of honor, then, eh?” The innkeeper teased, though his hopeful glances in the direction of his barmaid-cum-minstrel made Audric nervous.
"Divide and Conquer" Ulfric Stormcloak/M!DB, 1a/??
The air was thick with drizzle – that hazy, gray mist that Skyrim was prone to. Audric tended his fire, kept it alive in spite of the rain. He could hardly enjoy it, however, as huddling for warmth was futile and he had only a few measly potatoes in the way of food. With some perseverance, he could probably have reached Ivarstead by a little after midnight, but the weather and the road had beaten most of the perseverance out of him. Instead, he settled for a nook in the mountains and prayed he wouldn’t waken waterlogged – that was, if he slept at all.
The wind howled fiercely through the crags, shrill and unforgiving. His time in Skyrim, short as it was, hadn’t hardened his bones against the cold, so he shivered, falling not so much into sleep as into despondency. He tossed and turned on the lumpy ground, half-dreaming in fits and starts of a warm hearth and spiced mead, of a bed and a someone or two to share it with.
He did not wait for dawn to break before packing up and moving on.
The rain persisted, following him into the foothills of the Rift, a dark cloud chasing after him. Thunder rumbled from above outstretched fingers of birch trees and Audric cursed his dumb luck. Somewhere out there, he figured, Nocturnal was having herself a bloody good laugh.
The sky began to clear just as the little hamlet came into view. Typical.
Though it would bore him half to death, if ever he were forced to stay, Audric loved the villages that dotted the province. Ivarstead in particular was a frequent haunt of his, given the company he often kept. And sure enough, Lynly was there to serve him a hot meal and a few sweet words when he arrived, soaked, inside the Vilemyr.
“Well hello stranger,” she smiled, “long time, no see.”
Frowning, he scoffed, “Oh, it’s only been – what – a few days? A week, at the most.”
“Try almost a month,” she admonished, hand firmly on her hip.
“No.” He apologized then; Audric had a horrible knack for losing track of time. He often got swept up in the places he visited and the people he met there. “I will make it up to you, I promise.”
“I’m certain you will.” With a wink, she left to tend to the other patrons. As delightful as a roll with Lynly always was, he wasn’t sure he was up to it after his trek. He hoped she would give him a day or two to recover before demanding her recompense.
Ten hours of good, hard sleep in a soft bed under a roof saw Audric feeling infinitely more himself. Sleepily, he wandered out into the hall, barefoot. The day was late and dusk filtered in through the high windows, gentle and pale. Sitting at the bar, he cracked his back and plied Wilhelm for news. Of course, there was almost never any big news for Wilhelm to report, only small scraps of gossip or the local tragedies and victories alike – all small, all trivial. And that was precisely why Audric liked to ask. Since that fateful day at the chopping block, Audric’s life had been inundated with big news. Harsh realities and victories so bittersweet, they doubled back into tragedies. He liked small news. It settled his stomach.
Over a steaming bowl of tomato soup, he was handed a wedding invitation. “Oh, that was sweet of Fastred. I love weddings.”
Wilhelm nearly choked. “That’s...weddings don’t seem the type of ceremony that suit you,” he tried politely. “In fact, ceremony in general doesn’t really suit you, my friend.”
Audric chuckled, patiently stirring his soup, waiting for it to cool some. “Perhaps not, but I like a good party, as long as I’m only a guest.”
“Never the guest of honor, then, eh?” The innkeeper teased, though his hopeful glances in the direction of his barmaid-cum-minstrel made Audric nervous.