Different A!A here with a fill. Hope this is to your tastes, OP, and forgive me if it gets a bit long; I really enjoyed this prompt!
“How's it look?”
“Ridiculous,” Argis answered honestly, throwing back the last of the Black-Briar Mead he held in his hand. Setting down the empty bottle, he dissolved into a bemused grin from where he lounged on the chair. “Gods, why on Nirn would you want to keep that, Thane?”
“I thought you'd agreed to call me by my name,” Signy observed; Argis gave a quick shrug, mumbling something incoherent with the dismissing wave of a hand. Signy thought it sounded like “it's not natural yet,” but she let the matter drop. “And why not keep it? These past weeks have been nothing but Forsworn raids mixed with bouts of dragon slaying. I deserve a fun souvenir.” Signy's hands reached up to the Forsworn headdress, which had flopped a bit too far forward on her forehead. She pushed the deer-like covering back, only to have it lean forward again. “Damn thing keeps moving around, though...”
Argis stood, crossing to the woman in only a couple long strides. He took a gentle hold of the ridiculous antlered headdress, trying to help position it properly.
“It's too big for you, lass,” he finally pronounced, giving up and letting the smelly monstrosity flop forward on Signy's brow.
“Damn it all,” the woman grumbled, not even bothering to try to fix the headdress that was now partially obscuring her sight.
“You sure you're not actually a Breton?” Argis teased, turning to fetch liquor for the both of them.
“No! I've told you, I'm a Nord!” Signy laughed, finally taking off the preposterous headdress and throwing it near her chair. She moved to settle in her seat, sending a good-natured smile over her shoulder toward her Housecarl. It had been a while since they'd enjoyed some friendly banter, and she'd missed it.
“Aye, and I've told you, you're among the littlest Nords I've ever seen,” Argis chuckled, settling down in his chair by the hearthfire. It was true, too; even Signy knew she barely came up to his chest, and her body was lithe and wiry – not muscular and defined, like most other Nord women.
Signy's slender fingers brushed over Argis' thick, calloused ones as she took a bottle of mead from him. She barely suppressed a sigh – such gentle contact was electrifying; it had been ages since her hands had felt anything besides the hilt of a sword beneath them. Clearing her head, she popped the flask open, greedily swallowing a few gulps of the honey-sweetened alcohol before replying.
“Aye, well, you're probably one of the biggest Nords I've ever seen. Of course I look tiny to you.”
A moment of silence passed before Argis dissolved into quiet chuckles; Signy soon found herself following suit.
“Ah, it's good to be home,” the Bulwark sighed, allowing his head to loll back against the chair. Signy found a pleased smile curling her lips; it was nice to know the man thought of Vlindrel Hall, here with her, as home.
“It is,” Signy agreed, allowing herself a moment of ogling the handsome Nord. It had been a while since she'd seen the man so thoroughly relaxed. The usual tension in his brow had faded away, his features becoming much smoother and youthful. The way the fire cast sharp shadows over his fair face, strong cheekbones, and defined jaw was only all the more entrancing...and that wasn't even to start on the thick cords of muscle in his neck, or the hint of chest hair poking above his shirt. Divines, Signy sighed to herself. He truly is a stunning creation.
The Bulwark blinked slowly, as if nearly asleep. With a lazy half-smile, he turned to Signy, raising his bottle of mead.
“To our hard-won battles,” he toasted. Pulled out of her thoughts, Signy raised her bottle, touching it to his with a soft clink.
“And to a well-deserved week of vacation,” she added. Argis' good eye sparkled in the firelight as he laughed aloud.
Say It (1/?)
“How's it look?”
“Ridiculous,” Argis answered honestly, throwing back the last of the Black-Briar Mead he held in his hand. Setting down the empty bottle, he dissolved into a bemused grin from where he lounged on the chair. “Gods, why on Nirn would you want to keep that, Thane?”
“I thought you'd agreed to call me by my name,” Signy observed; Argis gave a quick shrug, mumbling something incoherent with the dismissing wave of a hand. Signy thought it sounded like “it's not natural yet,” but she let the matter drop. “And why not keep it? These past weeks have been nothing but Forsworn raids mixed with bouts of dragon slaying. I deserve a fun souvenir.” Signy's hands reached up to the Forsworn headdress, which had flopped a bit too far forward on her forehead. She pushed the deer-like covering back, only to have it lean forward again. “Damn thing keeps moving around, though...”
Argis stood, crossing to the woman in only a couple long strides. He took a gentle hold of the ridiculous antlered headdress, trying to help position it properly.
“It's too big for you, lass,” he finally pronounced, giving up and letting the smelly monstrosity flop forward on Signy's brow.
“Damn it all,” the woman grumbled, not even bothering to try to fix the headdress that was now partially obscuring her sight.
“You sure you're not actually a Breton?” Argis teased, turning to fetch liquor for the both of them.
“No! I've told you, I'm a Nord!” Signy laughed, finally taking off the preposterous headdress and throwing it near her chair. She moved to settle in her seat, sending a good-natured smile over her shoulder toward her Housecarl. It had been a while since they'd enjoyed some friendly banter, and she'd missed it.
“Aye, and I've told you, you're among the littlest Nords I've ever seen,” Argis chuckled, settling down in his chair by the hearthfire. It was true, too; even Signy knew she barely came up to his chest, and her body was lithe and wiry – not muscular and defined, like most other Nord women.
Signy's slender fingers brushed over Argis' thick, calloused ones as she took a bottle of mead from him. She barely suppressed a sigh – such gentle contact was electrifying; it had been ages since her hands had felt anything besides the hilt of a sword beneath them. Clearing her head, she popped the flask open, greedily swallowing a few gulps of the honey-sweetened alcohol before replying.
“Aye, well, you're probably one of the biggest Nords I've ever seen. Of course I look tiny to you.”
A moment of silence passed before Argis dissolved into quiet chuckles; Signy soon found herself following suit.
“Ah, it's good to be home,” the Bulwark sighed, allowing his head to loll back against the chair. Signy found a pleased smile curling her lips; it was nice to know the man thought of Vlindrel Hall, here with her, as home.
“It is,” Signy agreed, allowing herself a moment of ogling the handsome Nord. It had been a while since she'd seen the man so thoroughly relaxed. The usual tension in his brow had faded away, his features becoming much smoother and youthful. The way the fire cast sharp shadows over his fair face, strong cheekbones, and defined jaw was only all the more entrancing...and that wasn't even to start on the thick cords of muscle in his neck, or the hint of chest hair poking above his shirt. Divines, Signy sighed to herself. He truly is a stunning creation.
The Bulwark blinked slowly, as if nearly asleep. With a lazy half-smile, he turned to Signy, raising his bottle of mead.
“To our hard-won battles,” he toasted. Pulled out of her thoughts, Signy raised her bottle, touching it to his with a soft clink.
“And to a well-deserved week of vacation,” she added. Argis' good eye sparkled in the firelight as he laughed aloud.
“Aye, I can drink to that.”