[Mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa - I saw I'd stuffed up the tags and said, "Meh, I'll fix it when I get the second half out." Then I forgot about it for seven months. Here it is.
They met again, three weeks later on the road to Solitude.
Relyn – not Relynan, never in his own head – took a careful step towards the bandits attempting to hold him at swordpoint.
“Stay right where you are, greyskin!” the leader ordered, in a way that might have been intimidating had he been addressing anyone else. Some things really never changed.
Relyn spread empty hands. “Whyever should I? A lone traveller isn't going to carry anything that valuable unless he's very dangerous himself. Either way, I'm hardly worth your time.” He took another step, expression cold. “What is it going to be, muthsera?”
The mob actually looked to be considering his words. Then the arrow came from nowhere and took one of them in the throat.
So much for talking things out. A pulse of magicka to his belt summoned the reassuring weight of bound armour, and then it was a simple matter to lose himself in steel and spell. Not for long enough, however – the last bandit fled within minutes, leaving Relyn surrounded by the dead. He turned towards the treeline. “You may as well come out, whoever you are.”
Vegetation moved aside to reveal the Dunmer girl from Windhelm, clad in dark leathers and clutching a bow. She snapped off a shot at the running bandit before turning to look at him with an expression torn between anger and embarrassment.
“Looks like you didn't need my help. At all. Sorry?”
“Not as such. Not that it wasn't appreciated, though.” Actually, he was a touch annoyed that she'd caused the fight instead of waiting for it to begin, but there was no need to tell her that. She'd learn eventually. And then, as if the day wasn't bad enough already, from overhead came the thunder of leathern wings.
Two hours later saw the pair of them making camp in his erstwhile attackers' hideout. Relyn made use of their cooking pot while Felyse performed the grand tradition of all lone adventurers: divesting the dead of all their worldly possessions.
“Is that really necessary?” Relyn said, looking up as she removed an ill-kept iron cuirass from its owner. He did his best to quash the treacherous thought that he would have done the same, two hundred years ago. Had done the same. The words of oaths long broken crept unbidden into his head.
She grinned, eyes bright and faintly manic. “Maybe not, but that's half the fun. Dwarven ruins might pay better than bandit caves, but they're a nightmare to get through.” She paused, suddenly uncertain. “I... guess you know that already, huh?” The grin moved back into place. “What're you making? It looks vile.”
“You weren't anywhere so jittery the last time we met,” he said mildly, taking a spoonful of the culinary-disgrace-in-progress. Ugh. It seemed that nothing could make whitecaps taste edible. Or possibly he was just that bad a cook.
“I didn't know who you were, then.”
So that was it. Relyn closed his eyes, fighting back memories of a time and place long gone. She didn't notice.
“Why haven't you told people who you are? There's plenty of Dunmer talk about the old days, they'd follow you -”
“So I can lead them to ruin, too?” It came out sharper than he intended, almost a shout. Felyse narrowed her eyes at him.
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timeasmymeasure
Re: Hunter and Moon [3/?], tags
Date: 2015-02-26 04:51 pm (UTC)[tags: char:nerevarine, char:f!db, race:dunmer, relationship:gen, es:skyrim]
-----
They met again, three weeks later on the road to Solitude.
Relyn – not Relynan, never in his own head – took a careful step towards the bandits attempting to hold him at swordpoint.
“Stay right where you are, greyskin!” the leader ordered, in a way that might have been intimidating had he been addressing anyone else. Some things really never changed.
Relyn spread empty hands. “Whyever should I? A lone traveller isn't going to carry anything that valuable unless he's very dangerous himself. Either way, I'm hardly worth your time.” He took another step, expression cold. “What is it going to be, muthsera?”
The mob actually looked to be considering his words. Then the arrow came from nowhere and took one of them in the throat.
So much for talking things out. A pulse of magicka to his belt summoned the reassuring weight of bound armour, and then it was a simple matter to lose himself in steel and spell. Not for long enough, however – the last bandit fled within minutes, leaving Relyn surrounded by the dead. He turned towards the treeline. “You may as well come out, whoever you are.”
Vegetation moved aside to reveal the Dunmer girl from Windhelm, clad in dark leathers and clutching a bow. She snapped off a shot at the running bandit before turning to look at him with an expression torn between anger and embarrassment.
“Looks like you didn't need my help. At all. Sorry?”
“Not as such. Not that it wasn't appreciated, though.” Actually, he was a touch annoyed that she'd caused the fight instead of waiting for it to begin, but there was no need to tell her that. She'd learn eventually. And then, as if the day wasn't bad enough already, from overhead came the thunder of leathern wings.
Two hours later saw the pair of them making camp in his erstwhile attackers' hideout. Relyn made use of their cooking pot while Felyse performed the grand tradition of all lone adventurers: divesting the dead of all their worldly possessions.
“Is that really necessary?” Relyn said, looking up as she removed an ill-kept iron cuirass from its owner. He did his best to quash the treacherous thought that he would have done the same, two hundred years ago. Had done the same. The words of oaths long broken crept unbidden into his head.
She grinned, eyes bright and faintly manic. “Maybe not, but that's half the fun. Dwarven ruins might pay better than bandit caves, but they're a nightmare to get through.” She paused, suddenly uncertain. “I... guess you know that already, huh?” The grin moved back into place. “What're you making? It looks vile.”
“You weren't anywhere so jittery the last time we met,” he said mildly, taking a spoonful of the culinary-disgrace-in-progress. Ugh. It seemed that nothing could make whitecaps taste edible. Or possibly he was just that bad a cook.
“I didn't know who you were, then.”
So that was it. Relyn closed his eyes, fighting back memories of a time and place long gone. She didn't notice.
“Why haven't you told people who you are? There's plenty of Dunmer talk about the old days, they'd follow you -”
“So I can lead them to ruin, too?” It came out sharper than he intended, almost a shout. Felyse narrowed her eyes at him.
“What are you talking about?”