Meme Announcements!
Oct. 29th, 2011 12:36 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
skyrimkinkmemeANNOUNCEMENTS: UPDATED 12/16/2017
Happy Holidays, fellow Kinkmemers! I have returned and have no reasonable excuse for my absence except LIFE. I will be working on updating the archives. If anyone sees anything amiss, please let me know.
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Take my coat! 1/?
Date: 2013-05-25 11:27 am (UTC)--
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“Windhelm is absolutely freezing! How can these people tolerate it?!”
The complaint cut clear through the freezing air of Windhelm, not for the first time, Einarr the Dragonborn sighed before turning to look at his companion.
“Well you do choose to wear that stupidly thin robe, Erandur.”
The Dunmer, a few steps behind him, scowled in response.
“I’m a priest, what would you have me wear?”
“Something with fur might be helpful.”
“You would say that. You’re a Nord.”
“And you’re someone who should have learnt by now.” Einarr replied, walking a little further ahead in an attempt to speed Erandur’s feet and slow his complaints.
The priest of Mara had joined him on his travels some months ago, after a somewhat awkward first encounter, and had proved to be nothing but a valuable friend since. So much so that Einarr couldn’t believe he had ever considered travelling with anyone else. Especially Marcurio.
Erandur was polite, helpful, friendly and an asset in battle, not to mention how useful his healing skills were and how interesting a life he’d led. He had often recounted stories to Einarr whilst healing some wound, usually dragon inflicted, in an attempt to distract him, revealing more about himself than he probably realised or intended to.
His honesty was endearing.
His in ability to cope with the cold, was not.
Especially considering he’d grown up in the Pale. Not exactly the warmest of Skyrim’s holds, though certainly not the coldest.
Einarr, despite being a standard Nord and not really understanding elves all that well, did understand that Dark elves came from Morrowind. Morrowind was made of ash, fire and lava and so was hot. So it stood to reason that dark elves liked heat and didn’t like cold. Unlike Nord’s who liked cold and not heat.
Even with his ‘deep’ understanding of this however, Einarr was fairly certain that if he went to Morrowind, he could cope with their land and weather better than Erandur was coping with Skyrim’s. In fact, he’d make a point of coping and not complaining, if they ever went there together.
Behind the Nord, Erandur sneezed loudly. Einarr rolled his eyes, wishing that the elf wasn’t so stubborn as to refuse the offer of a fur cloak. But he had, repeatedly, so the item in question hung about Einarr’s broad shoulders instead, so heavy that the considerable wind barely lifted its long hem. It was, needless to say, extremely warm and one of Einarr’s prized possessions.
But still the elf refused. Einarr wasn’t sure quite why he refused so vehemently.
Shrugging to himself, he pushed against one of Windhelm’s heavy iron gates, ushering the priest through ahead of himself when Rolff Stone-Fist appeared from around a corner, staggering drunkenly.
The air outside the city was even colder, the protection that the high stone walls offered dropping away instantly. Einarr blinked, the wind making his eyes water as it stung them. He dropped his head, marching forwards, shoulders taking the brunt of the wind’s chill as he led the way to their destination.