The Silver-Blood Inn, like most Inn's in Skyrim, never locked its doors. A sulky barmaid was listlessly moving a grimy cloth over the layers of dirt on the bar, easy to sneak past and there were two dozing guards at the bottom of the stairs leading to Vilkas's and Torvar's rooms. Clearly they were being watched. But by who?
Picking the lock on Vilkas's door was child's play, even with my make-shift lock picks. I let myself into the dim room, shutting the door behind me with a soft click and letting my eyes adjust to the darkness inside the stone chamber. All I could hear was Vilkas's soft breathing and the soft rustle of his sheets as he moved. I padded closer, hand reaching for the Nord. He was restless, even in his sleep, tossing and turning as though fighting invisible opponents. Biting my lip, I leaned forward to gently shake the bare skin of his shoulder. A large hand covered mine and I felt myself flipped over Vilkas to land on my back on the bed. I'd been expecting something from the warrior so managed to stifle my un-Nordly shriek as he rolled with me, pinning me beneath his body, dagger pressing against my throat hard enough to draw a trickle of blood. Then the dagger was gone and his hand gently touched my cheek. "Igne?" "The one and only," I whispered, trying to calm my heartbeat after his assault. If he picked up on the bravado in my voice he didn't comment on it, choosing instead to whisper, "You escaped? Are you alright? They didn't hurt-" I shook my head. "I'm fine." He pulled back leaving me free to sit up. We sat there staring at each other awkwardly for a moment, before I broke the silence, asking with a weak smile, "Hang on. You doubted me?" The humour felt strained even to my ears and Vilkas gently shook his head. "No. But I did think you'd need longer than a day to do it. And I was tempted to break you out myself." He climbed off the bed, padding over to the oil lamp and effortlessly lighting it with the tinderbox provided, a skill I had never mastered. "Why didn't you?" I wasn't sure why I asked the question but I had a feeling I needed to hear the answer somehow. He kept his back to me for a moment longer, "I trusted you." Oh.
In the dim light he looked me over, "Are you sure you're alright?" "I'm fine." Maybe if I kept saying it I'd believe it. "Umm, did you manage to find my stuff?" "In the pack down by the bed. I managed to retrieve your sword as well." I swung my legs off the bed and groped for it, pulling my spare worn leathers out first. I pulled off the sackcloth shirt and the horribly scratchy trousers and linen foot wraps, throwing them into a pile on the side. A slight sag to the thin mattress on the stone bed told me that Vilkas was sitting on the other side and I glanced over to find him staring resolutely at the blank wall in front of him, well defined muscles in his back tense. The traitorous part of me wasn't sure whether to be offended or pleased by his indifference, shrugging it off, I turned back around and my smallclothes joined the pile. "There's a wash jug on the night-stand." I nodded before remembering that he couldn't see the gesture, "Thanks."
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timeasmymeasure
Call of the Blood 8.1/?
Date: 2013-07-08 12:24 pm (UTC)The Silver-Blood Inn, like most Inn's in Skyrim, never locked its doors. A sulky barmaid was listlessly moving a grimy cloth over the layers of dirt on the bar, easy to sneak past and there were two dozing guards at the bottom of the stairs leading to Vilkas's and Torvar's rooms. Clearly they were being watched. But by who?
Picking the lock on Vilkas's door was child's play, even with my make-shift lock picks. I let myself into the dim room, shutting the door behind me with a soft click and letting my eyes adjust to the darkness inside the stone chamber. All I could hear was Vilkas's soft breathing and the soft rustle of his sheets as he moved. I padded closer, hand reaching for the Nord. He was restless, even in his sleep, tossing and turning as though fighting invisible opponents. Biting my lip, I leaned forward to gently shake the bare skin of his shoulder. A large hand covered mine and I felt myself flipped over Vilkas to land on my back on the bed. I'd been expecting something from the warrior so managed to stifle my un-Nordly shriek as he rolled with me, pinning me beneath his body, dagger pressing against my throat hard enough to draw a trickle of blood. Then the dagger was gone and his hand gently touched my cheek.
"Igne?"
"The one and only," I whispered, trying to calm my heartbeat after his assault.
If he picked up on the bravado in my voice he didn't comment on it, choosing instead to whisper, "You escaped? Are you alright? They didn't hurt-"
I shook my head. "I'm fine."
He pulled back leaving me free to sit up. We sat there staring at each other awkwardly for a moment, before I broke the silence, asking with a weak smile, "Hang on. You doubted me?"
The humour felt strained even to my ears and Vilkas gently shook his head.
"No. But I did think you'd need longer than a day to do it. And I was tempted to break you out myself." He climbed off the bed, padding over to the oil lamp and effortlessly lighting it with the tinderbox provided, a skill I had never mastered.
"Why didn't you?" I wasn't sure why I asked the question but I had a feeling I needed to hear the answer somehow.
He kept his back to me for a moment longer, "I trusted you."
Oh.
In the dim light he looked me over, "Are you sure you're alright?"
"I'm fine." Maybe if I kept saying it I'd believe it. "Umm, did you manage to find my stuff?"
"In the pack down by the bed. I managed to retrieve your sword as well." I swung my legs off the bed and groped for it, pulling my spare worn leathers out first. I pulled off the sackcloth shirt and the horribly scratchy trousers and linen foot wraps, throwing them into a pile on the side. A slight sag to the thin mattress on the stone bed told me that Vilkas was sitting on the other side and I glanced over to find him staring resolutely at the blank wall in front of him, well defined muscles in his back tense. The traitorous part of me wasn't sure whether to be offended or pleased by his indifference, shrugging it off, I turned back around and my smallclothes joined the pile.
"There's a wash jug on the night-stand."
I nodded before remembering that he couldn't see the gesture, "Thanks."