“It will stop me from dying.” She said, swigging the contents and blanching at the taste. “And perhaps you will stop staring at me with that look on your face.”
“I am not staring at you with any look.” He stood up and looked over at the mountain they’d just come from. “If you’re healed then let’s go.”
“You go, I’ll stay here and sleep for a bit.” She yawned and began to pull out the remaining shards of glass from her thigh, little white sparks of light illuminating her skin where the magic healed the bloody wound.
“Sleep?” He refused to look in her direction, instead making a point to glance at the blue, starless sky.
“I am recovering from being poisoned, and you do not need me anymore, go get the tablet thing yourself.”
She was right, Vilkas could smell that she was not fully recovered, her heart still raced and the film of sweat upon her skin still smelt too sweet to be healthy. “Once we are in Whiterun, I will have the priestesses at the Temple see to you.” He promised. “Danica is a master healer, you’ll be better in no time.”
“I’ll be better with some sleep. Leave me.”
He could feel his temper beginning to flare, snagging at his waning patience that was still disturbed by guilt that gnawed at him. “You’re a sick young woman, there are bears in this forest.” “Pfft.” She shuffled onto her side and continued with picking out the glass shards, apparently unconcerned. “I’ll be fine.”
“No. You won’t.” Without warning her he turned and picked her up, heaving her over his shoulder and trying not to knock her injured leg in the process. Niamh let out a shriek and smacked his back with the flat of her hand.
“Put me down!”
She’d have set him on fire if she was well, Vilkas supposed. Knowing that all she had managed was a weak slap to his armour and an indignant kick to his well-protected gut confirmed to him that she was still sick.
“I’ll put you down once we’ve climbed back up to the Tablet.” He said, shrugging his shoulder to jostle her. She yelped and grabbed a hold of what she was able to on the smooth contours of his armour.
“By the gods if you don’t put me down I swear I will set fire to your hair!”
“You’d have done it already if you were going to.” He guessed, figuring she was not the type to welcome a fall from where they were currently at, clinging to the rocks at the side of the mountain.
Niamh hissed at him, giving him another feeble kick to the gut before slumping into a sulk. Vilkas rolled his eyes and continued to make his way back up to the exit of the barrow. Once she had stopped struggling, the journey was infinitely easier, with Vilkas now able to use both his hands she balanced on his shoulder.
“Are we not there yet?” She asked him, tapping her nails against his armour and made his ears twitch.
“Don’t even think about starting that.” He grumbled, reaching for the last ledge before pulling them up onto the ledge. “But yes, we are.”
“About time.” She said, trying to slip off his shoulder so she could stand upon the ledge.
Mistaking her squirms for her to be falling, Vilkas reached to grab her and lost his grip on the ledge. With a yell, he felt himself falling, the cool wind rushing past him with a dizzying speed as he fell through the air onto the rocks below.
“You stupid oaf!”
** It was growing dark, and the stormy silence between the Companion and the half-naked girl he travelled with was obvious to all as they entered the Sleeping Giant Inn. His armour was battered, with a large dint in the side that no smithed weapon could have caused.
“What kind of mage are you, to not know how to heal someone?” He grumbled, shutting the door behind her as she sloped in, scowling at him blackly.
“Heal yourself you clumsy Mas.”
“What?” He glanced at her, not catching the last word.
“Nothing.” She slipped behind him and glowered at any curious local that stared at the curious picture they made. “If you’d not been such a fool in the first place we’d never have had to go back in.”
“I saved your life and this is the gratitude I get?”
“Duin do ghob, I didn’t want to go in the first place!”
“What language is that?” He asked her, finally reaching the Innkeeper and pulling out his coin purse.
Niamh shut her mouth in response, and refused to look at him as she crossed her arms.
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timeasmymeasure
Daughter of the Reach 4b/4
Date: 2014-04-13 08:32 am (UTC)“I am not staring at you with any look.” He stood up and looked over at the mountain they’d just come from. “If you’re healed then let’s go.”
“You go, I’ll stay here and sleep for a bit.” She yawned and began to pull out the remaining shards of glass from her thigh, little white sparks of light illuminating her skin where the magic healed the bloody wound.
“Sleep?” He refused to look in her direction, instead making a point to glance at the blue, starless sky.
“I am recovering from being poisoned, and you do not need me anymore, go get the tablet thing yourself.”
She was right, Vilkas could smell that she was not fully recovered, her heart still raced and the film of sweat upon her skin still smelt too sweet to be healthy. “Once we are in Whiterun, I will have the priestesses at the Temple see to you.” He promised. “Danica is a master healer, you’ll be better in no time.”
“I’ll be better with some sleep. Leave me.”
He could feel his temper beginning to flare, snagging at his waning patience that was still disturbed by guilt that gnawed at him. “You’re a sick young woman, there are bears in this forest.”
“Pfft.” She shuffled onto her side and continued with picking out the glass shards, apparently unconcerned. “I’ll be fine.”
“No. You won’t.” Without warning her he turned and picked her up, heaving her over his shoulder and trying not to knock her injured leg in the process. Niamh let out a shriek and smacked his back with the flat of her hand.
“Put me down!”
She’d have set him on fire if she was well, Vilkas supposed. Knowing that all she had managed was a weak slap to his armour and an indignant kick to his well-protected gut confirmed to him that she was still sick.
“I’ll put you down once we’ve climbed back up to the Tablet.” He said, shrugging his shoulder to jostle her. She yelped and grabbed a hold of what she was able to on the smooth contours of his armour.
“By the gods if you don’t put me down I swear I will set fire to your hair!”
“You’d have done it already if you were going to.” He guessed, figuring she was not the type to welcome a fall from where they were currently at, clinging to the rocks at the side of the mountain.
Niamh hissed at him, giving him another feeble kick to the gut before slumping into a sulk. Vilkas rolled his eyes and continued to make his way back up to the exit of the barrow. Once she had stopped struggling, the journey was infinitely easier, with Vilkas now able to use both his hands she balanced on his shoulder.
“Are we not there yet?” She asked him, tapping her nails against his armour and made his ears twitch.
“Don’t even think about starting that.” He grumbled, reaching for the last ledge before pulling them up onto the ledge. “But yes, we are.”
“About time.” She said, trying to slip off his shoulder so she could stand upon the ledge.
Mistaking her squirms for her to be falling, Vilkas reached to grab her and lost his grip on the ledge. With a yell, he felt himself falling, the cool wind rushing past him with a dizzying speed as he fell through the air onto the rocks below.
“You stupid oaf!”
**
It was growing dark, and the stormy silence between the Companion and the half-naked girl he travelled with was obvious to all as they entered the Sleeping Giant Inn. His armour was battered, with a large dint in the side that no smithed weapon could have caused.
“What kind of mage are you, to not know how to heal someone?” He grumbled, shutting the door behind her as she sloped in, scowling at him blackly.
“Heal yourself you clumsy Mas.”
“What?” He glanced at her, not catching the last word.
“Nothing.” She slipped behind him and glowered at any curious local that stared at the curious picture they made. “If you’d not been such a fool in the first place we’d never have had to go back in.”
“I saved your life and this is the gratitude I get?”
“Duin do ghob, I didn’t want to go in the first place!”
“What language is that?” He asked her, finally reaching the Innkeeper and pulling out his coin purse.
Niamh shut her mouth in response, and refused to look at him as she crossed her arms.