It had been three days. That was all. Just three days, not even a span. Three days was nothing. It came and went in the blink of an eye, lost to the patterns of life’s routines.
Farkas knew it, and well. But he also couldn’t care less at this point in time, that the period that Nibenor had been away for was utterly insignificant. In length, anyway.
He sighed heavily, staring into Jorrvaskr’s ever burning fire, tugging a stray strand of dark hair out of his eyes. Somewhere behind him, a shield sibling tutted quietly as they took note of his state.
Not that he cared.
Nibenor, their shield brother, Bosmer, Dragonborn and most importantly, his recently claimed lover, was gone. Not for good, Farkas reminded himself. Not unless something untoward occurred whilst he was out on his adventures, which was certainly a possibility. But one that, while occurring on numerous occasions before, never seemed to stop Nibenor from returning home to Whiterun. Not necessarily unscathed, but he always did manage to return.
Except that this was different, Farkas grudgingly remembered. This wasn’t that Jarl Balgruff had sent him to deal with some bandits, or to fetch someone’s lost sword or even delve into some cave full of Dwemer ruins and Falmer. This was Dragonborn, world saving business.
This was serious.
Three days ago Farkas had followed his significantly smaller partner up into Dragonsreach, where the Bosmer had petitioned the Jarl to allow him to trap a dragon in the keep. An outlandish, desperate attempt to end the trouble of Alduin Worldeater that, against all odds, Balgruff had agreed to.
For a moment, none of them had believed it. The Dark Elf housecarl had stared at him as though he’d lost his mind. Nibenor had simply stared before collecting his wits and nodding as Balgruff had led them out towards the terrace.
It had whirled by, the agreement, the shout, a red dragon swooping in and causing chaos only to be trapped like a skeever. And just a few minutes after, Nibenor had pecked Farkas on the cheek, promised he’d be back soon and hopped onto the back of the dragon before disappearing off to the-Divines-only-knew-where.
Or Sovngarde, in actuality.
Now, Farkas trusted Nibenor to return to him beyond everything else. Their relationship depended on that trust, and so they both gave it freely. And in all honesty, the warrior in him both craved to hear the stories Nibenor would return with, and seethed jealously at the same time. But the lover worried.
The lover, the more caring, if not anywhere near rational part of him knew that there was a good chance that Nibenor would die in his endeavours. Hell, the rational part of him knew that too.
Too many times Nibenor had stumbled into Jorrvaskr limping or bleeding or bruised or barely conscious. And that was against things that dwelled on Nirn. What was he going to do against a dragon that was devouring souls in the afterlife?
He trusted Nibenor as a warrior. But the thought that he wouldn’t come back to him was utterly terrifying. The two of them had only been ‘official’ as Ria referred to it, for a few months, but Farkas couldn’t imagine what he would do without the little elf now.
Misfire: Welcome Returns, sequel to 'All creatures great and small' 1/?
Kinks:Slash. Size. Bosmer. Nord. Angst/ loneliness. Hurt/comfort. Anal. Oral.
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Welcome Returns
It had been three days. That was all. Just three days, not even a span. Three days was nothing. It came and went in the blink of an eye, lost to the patterns of life’s routines.
Farkas knew it, and well. But he also couldn’t care less at this point in time, that the period that Nibenor had been away for was utterly insignificant. In length, anyway.
He sighed heavily, staring into Jorrvaskr’s ever burning fire, tugging a stray strand of dark hair out of his eyes. Somewhere behind him, a shield sibling tutted quietly as they took note of his state.
Not that he cared.
Nibenor, their shield brother, Bosmer, Dragonborn and most importantly, his recently claimed lover, was gone. Not for good, Farkas reminded himself. Not unless something untoward occurred whilst he was out on his adventures, which was certainly a possibility. But one that, while occurring on numerous occasions before, never seemed to stop Nibenor from returning home to Whiterun. Not necessarily unscathed, but he always did manage to return.
Except that this was different, Farkas grudgingly remembered. This wasn’t that Jarl Balgruff had sent him to deal with some bandits, or to fetch someone’s lost sword or even delve into some cave full of Dwemer ruins and Falmer. This was Dragonborn, world saving business.
This was serious.
Three days ago Farkas had followed his significantly smaller partner up into Dragonsreach, where the Bosmer had petitioned the Jarl to allow him to trap a dragon in the keep. An outlandish, desperate attempt to end the trouble of Alduin Worldeater that, against all odds, Balgruff had agreed to.
For a moment, none of them had believed it. The Dark Elf housecarl had stared at him as though he’d lost his mind. Nibenor had simply stared before collecting his wits and nodding as Balgruff had led them out towards the terrace.
It had whirled by, the agreement, the shout, a red dragon swooping in and causing chaos only to be trapped like a skeever. And just a few minutes after, Nibenor had pecked Farkas on the cheek, promised he’d be back soon and hopped onto the back of the dragon before disappearing off to the-Divines-only-knew-where.
Or Sovngarde, in actuality.
Now, Farkas trusted Nibenor to return to him beyond everything else. Their relationship depended on that trust, and so they both gave it freely. And in all honesty, the warrior in him both craved to hear the stories Nibenor would return with, and seethed jealously at the same time. But the lover worried.
The lover, the more caring, if not anywhere near rational part of him knew that there was a good chance that Nibenor would die in his endeavours. Hell, the rational part of him knew that too.
Too many times Nibenor had stumbled into Jorrvaskr limping or bleeding or bruised or barely conscious. And that was against things that dwelled on Nirn. What was he going to do against a dragon that was devouring souls in the afterlife?
He trusted Nibenor as a warrior. But the thought that he wouldn’t come back to him was utterly terrifying. The two of them had only been ‘official’ as Ria referred to it, for a few months, but Farkas couldn’t imagine what he would do without the little elf now.