The sullen Companion escorted me back along the corridor, his leader's offer still echoing round my head. I tried to push the distraction to the back of my mind, filing it under 'Things I Can Worry About If I Ever Survive This Battle.' At the moment it was about number ten on the list-number one was still that tiny little problem of Alduin the World-Eater; compared to that particular worry everything else seemed somewhat trivial. Take each day at a time, Igne. And right now, what I was looking forward too was some precious sleep. Although whether my stress-filled mind would let that happen was another matter. By the time I made it up the stairs to the main hall most of the Companions had disappeared but Lydia was chatting to the Dunmer and the twin of the moody one about the merits of small blades versus great swords. Old non-Dragonborn Igne would have had a snigger about that. The big man was hanging on to every word Lydia was saying and I could have sworn that my stoic and disciplined, 'remember-Igne-we-have-a-job-to-do' Housecarl was actually flirting with the man. My brain is far too tired to comprehend this. I cleared my throat, interrupting Lydia in the middle of an anecdote, which seemed to consist of the imaginary time I had thought it would be a good idea to tackle a dragon with a dagger. Lydia turned, cheeks slightly flushed, "Ah, my thane, we were just-" I couldn't help bite back a smile at the Housecarl's discomfort. Normally the situation was reversed. Better make the most of this then. "Remember Lydia, we have a job to do." It was worth it for the glare.
With every step down towards Breezehome my heart and my spirit seemed to sink further. Around us both the townspeople and the militia were working on preparations for the battle; the Skyforge and Arianne's forge were bellowing smoke, sending thick black plumes of smoke into the clear blue skies as they feverishly tried to improve armour and weapons. Down in the marketplace Ysolda had made a game for children out of fetching buckets of water from the well to assist in fighting fires. There was probably some poignant observation about the reality of war to be made there but I was too damned tired to think about it, barely focusing on putting one foot in front of the other and trying to keep my face an impassive mask.
When I finally got into Breezehome I staggered up the stairs and threw myself face down on my bed. I didn't even remember falling asleep.
I woke up to Lydia's persistent shaking of my shoulder. "It's time."
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timeasmymeasure
Call of the Blood 2.1/?
Date: 2013-06-25 02:05 pm (UTC)The sullen Companion escorted me back along the corridor, his leader's offer still echoing round my head. I tried to push the distraction to the back of my mind, filing it under 'Things I Can Worry About If I Ever Survive This Battle.' At the moment it was about number ten on the list-number one was still that tiny little problem of Alduin the World-Eater; compared to that particular worry everything else seemed somewhat trivial.
Take each day at a time, Igne.
And right now, what I was looking forward too was some precious sleep. Although whether my stress-filled mind would let that happen was another matter.
By the time I made it up the stairs to the main hall most of the Companions had disappeared but Lydia was chatting to the Dunmer and the twin of the moody one about the merits of small blades versus great swords.
Old non-Dragonborn Igne would have had a snigger about that.
The big man was hanging on to every word Lydia was saying and I could have sworn that my stoic and disciplined, 'remember-Igne-we-have-a-job-to-do' Housecarl was actually flirting with the man.
My brain is far too tired to comprehend this.
I cleared my throat, interrupting Lydia in the middle of an anecdote, which seemed to consist of the imaginary time I had thought it would be a good idea to tackle a dragon with a dagger. Lydia turned, cheeks slightly flushed, "Ah, my thane, we were just-"
I couldn't help bite back a smile at the Housecarl's discomfort. Normally the situation was reversed.
Better make the most of this then.
"Remember Lydia, we have a job to do."
It was worth it for the glare.
With every step down towards Breezehome my heart and my spirit seemed to sink further. Around us both the townspeople and the militia were working on preparations for the battle; the Skyforge and Arianne's forge were bellowing smoke, sending thick black plumes of smoke into the clear blue skies as they feverishly tried to improve armour and weapons. Down in the marketplace Ysolda had made a game for children out of fetching buckets of water from the well to assist in fighting fires. There was probably some poignant observation about the reality of war to be made there but I was too damned tired to think about it, barely focusing on putting one foot in front of the other and trying to keep my face an impassive mask.
When I finally got into Breezehome I staggered up the stairs and threw myself face down on my bed. I didn't even remember falling asleep.
I woke up to Lydia's persistent shaking of my shoulder.
"It's time."