They arrived back in Whiterun tired and dirty and grass-stained and all smiles. The other members of the circle assembled out behind Jorrvaskr, and Farkas vouched for Dyce so enthusiastically he was faintly embarrassed.
Kodlak welcomed him into the Companions as the sun was rising, and it occurred to Dyce that he was the only human there. It wasn’t entirely a pleasant feeling, despite the fact that everyone, even Vilkas, seemed satisfied with his performance. Dyce had never fought a werewolf, and he honestly had no idea how he’d fare against one if he had to.
It was a firm reminder that he was no longer in Highrock, and that things were very different in Skyrim.
They had a meal that was a bit like breakfast and a bit like dinner and Dyce took himself off to the communal sleeping quarters to catch up on his sleep. He was sure he would have been welcome in Farkas’s room, and the man himself seemed almost as laid-back about it as Dyce was, but he didn’t want to accidentally overinvest and end up with a boyfriend.
Although if he did want a boyfriend there were definitely worse candidates.
One of whom Farkas was convinced liked him. When Dyce got up in time for a late lunch Vilkas was reasonably polite, presumably because he’d returned Farkas in good condition. But he didn’t have a lot to say and didn’t give the impression Dyce was his favourite person.
And yet, and yet, he did keep looking at him. Not staring, not pointedly, or even coyly.
Dyce decided the mystery was hardly going to be solved in the dining room and he went out to sell the bits and pieces he’d picked up in the tomb and get his armour repaired. He owed Devlin and Vex some trinkets and he wanted a bit of time to think over the events of recent days, and so he left for Riften without notice or word when he might be back.
~~~
It was raining in the forests around Falkreath, water dripping off the pines and making the roadways slippery and treacherous. Vilkas felt the ankle-deep mud tugging at his boots as he ran, ducking as a shower of frozen rain fell like icy needles, bouncing and breaking off his armour and hair.
The dragon rose again, and he lifted his head and watched it circle from his position at the top of a small rise as it screamed at the leaden sky.
He’d been hunting and was on his way back to Whiterun when the dragon had appeared. He’d discarded the furs somewhere further down the gentle slope. The dragon breathed frost, and Vilkas thanked both his hardy Nord constitution and his beast blood that kept him warm in the face of the icy blast. But it didn’t stop the shards of ice tearing at his skin.
It was all he could do to conserve his energy, try and keep out of the way of the dragon’s breath, and wait for it to land again. Then he’d charge in and swing at its armoured head before it took off again. It was slow, exhausting work, and Vilkas feared he was wearing down faster than the dragon.
He began to think less of how he’d kill the beast and more of how he might survive the encounter. The dragon landed, mud flying as it dashed itself into the ground. Vilkas ducked behind a tree as it roared, and then once more, he ran. The tail knocked him sideways, and he skidded, flailing for balance.
“Damn you!” He snarled and struck back, carving a solid chunk of meat out of the dragon’s tail - but that wasn’t going to slow it down. Vilkas shook water out of his eyes, found his feet, and ran at the creature.
It opened its jaws and Vilkas jammed his sword into the roof of its mouth, twisting the Skyforged steel. It was all he could do to keep those long, dagger like teeth from closing over his head, his knees threatening to buckle, his muscles aching with exhaustion. He bared his teeth and snarled, but he choked back the beast; mindless, the dragon would swallow it whole.
It might swallow him anyway. The Whiterun guards had spoken softly of the armour they’d pulled from the dragon’s bones those months ago when one had first attacked the city.
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timeasmymeasure
"Nothing But Trouble" M!DB/Farkas M!DB/Vilkas 7/10
Date: 2012-12-10 04:01 am (UTC)Kodlak welcomed him into the Companions as the sun was rising, and it occurred to Dyce that he was the only human there. It wasn’t entirely a pleasant feeling, despite the fact that everyone, even Vilkas, seemed satisfied with his performance. Dyce had never fought a werewolf, and he honestly had no idea how he’d fare against one if he had to.
It was a firm reminder that he was no longer in Highrock, and that things were very different in Skyrim.
They had a meal that was a bit like breakfast and a bit like dinner and Dyce took himself off to the communal sleeping quarters to catch up on his sleep. He was sure he would have been welcome in Farkas’s room, and the man himself seemed almost as laid-back about it as Dyce was, but he didn’t want to accidentally overinvest and end up with a boyfriend.
Although if he did want a boyfriend there were definitely worse candidates.
One of whom Farkas was convinced liked him. When Dyce got up in time for a late lunch Vilkas was reasonably polite, presumably because he’d returned Farkas in good condition. But he didn’t have a lot to say and didn’t give the impression Dyce was his favourite person.
And yet, and yet, he did keep looking at him. Not staring, not pointedly, or even coyly.
Dyce decided the mystery was hardly going to be solved in the dining room and he went out to sell the bits and pieces he’d picked up in the tomb and get his armour repaired. He owed Devlin and Vex some trinkets and he wanted a bit of time to think over the events of recent days, and so he left for Riften without notice or word when he might be back.
~~~
It was raining in the forests around Falkreath, water dripping off the pines and making the roadways slippery and treacherous. Vilkas felt the ankle-deep mud tugging at his boots as he ran, ducking as a shower of frozen rain fell like icy needles, bouncing and breaking off his armour and hair.
The dragon rose again, and he lifted his head and watched it circle from his position at the top of a small rise as it screamed at the leaden sky.
He’d been hunting and was on his way back to Whiterun when the dragon had appeared. He’d discarded the furs somewhere further down the gentle slope. The dragon breathed frost, and Vilkas thanked both his hardy Nord constitution and his beast blood that kept him warm in the face of the icy blast. But it didn’t stop the shards of ice tearing at his skin.
It was all he could do to conserve his energy, try and keep out of the way of the dragon’s breath, and wait for it to land again. Then he’d charge in and swing at its armoured head before it took off again. It was slow, exhausting work, and Vilkas feared he was wearing down faster than the dragon.
He began to think less of how he’d kill the beast and more of how he might survive the encounter. The dragon landed, mud flying as it dashed itself into the ground. Vilkas ducked behind a tree as it roared, and then once more, he ran. The tail knocked him sideways, and he skidded, flailing for balance.
“Damn you!” He snarled and struck back, carving a solid chunk of meat out of the dragon’s tail - but that wasn’t going to slow it down. Vilkas shook water out of his eyes, found his feet, and ran at the creature.
It opened its jaws and Vilkas jammed his sword into the roof of its mouth, twisting the Skyforged steel. It was all he could do to keep those long, dagger like teeth from closing over his head, his knees threatening to buckle, his muscles aching with exhaustion. He bared his teeth and snarled, but he choked back the beast; mindless, the dragon would swallow it whole.
It might swallow him anyway. The Whiterun guards had spoken softly of the armour they’d pulled from the dragon’s bones those months ago when one had first attacked the city.
He thought he heard hoofbeats.