Not quite a BAM sudden, but I may try a second one that's a little more sudden. Hope you enjoy.
~~~~~ She struggled with her armor. The straps kept anything from coming lose and making noise, true, but it also made it nearly impossible to get into without an extra pair of hands. She growled lowly and pulled on one of the straps viciously. It didn't help anything but made her feel a little better.
Someone chuckled behind her. She didn't turn, intent on ignoring the person. The other seemed just as intent on not being ignored. "Having a problem, lass?"
She gritted her teeth. Brynjolf. Of course it would be Brynjolf. he was a good enough friend, someone she could count on to watch her back,but by the gods, why couldn't he just take no as her answer and stop flirting? "I'm fine," she growled.
"Well, that's true, but you still seem like you could use a hand. I can help, if you'll let me," his tone was playful, with a ring to it that told her he was referring to more than her armor.
"You won't if you want to keep all your fingers," she shot back. He laughed deeply.
Valrei whimpered and curled into a tight ball. Whether she was fighting off the cold wind, or the memories, she wasn't sure.
"You've done well, lass. Now, go get some rest. You look dead on your feet," Brynjolf said, frowning a little.
She nodded slowly and turned to go find an empty bed. Her foot slipped on the lick floor of the cistern and she tipped over backward. A pair of strong arms twined around her waist, pulling her back against a hard, male body. She blinked sleepily, trying to process what had just happened.
"You know, if you wanted in my arms, you could have just asked," Brynjolf murmured against her ear.
She shoved away from him with a strength that surprised him, pushing herself out of his arms violently, and falling back right into the water of the cistern. When she came up for air, she could hear the laughter of her fellow thieves. All she wanted was to drown right then, to end the embarrassment. Then, she saw Brynjolf's surprised, amused face. Maybe she would drown him instead.
...
The beds were all full. For once, all the members of their guild were home at the same time. It was kind of nice, but it made it difficult for her to find a place to crash.
"Where am I supposed to sleep?" she muttered, planting her hands on her hips.
"My bed always has room for you, lass."
She glared over her shoulder at the red head, now sitting up in one of the beds. "I'd rather sleep with a skeever, Brynjolf." She stalked toward the Flagon to sleep at one of the tables. Brynjolf's quiet laugh followed her the whole way.
Valrei wished he was with her, with his arms wrapped around her to protect her against the cold, to comfort her, maybe even more. How was it that she suddenly found herself unable to stop thinking about him? She wondered if his hands were rough and calloused from long years of use, or if they were gentle,nimble. Would his beard tickle her if - when - she kissed him? she wanted to hear him murmur "lass" in his ear, and laughed at her when she did something silly.
Why was she thinking about him? And why was she so bloody cold?
"I'll give Brynjolf your regards."
Even with the poison holding her still, she felt the knife press against her throat, felt the skin split and peel back. And then it was just pain and blood and darkness.
Nothing like nearly dying... 1/?
~~~~~
She struggled with her armor. The straps kept anything from coming lose and making noise, true, but it also made it nearly impossible to get into without an extra pair of hands. She growled lowly and pulled on one of the straps viciously. It didn't help anything but made her feel a little better.
Someone chuckled behind her. She didn't turn, intent on ignoring the person. The other seemed just as intent on not being ignored. "Having a problem, lass?"
She gritted her teeth. Brynjolf. Of course it would be Brynjolf. he was a good enough friend, someone she could count on to watch her back,but by the gods, why couldn't he just take no as her answer and stop flirting? "I'm fine," she growled.
"Well, that's true, but you still seem like you could use a hand. I can help, if you'll let me," his tone was playful, with a ring to it that told her he was referring to more than her armor.
"You won't if you want to keep all your fingers," she shot back. He laughed deeply.
Valrei whimpered and curled into a tight ball. Whether she was fighting off the cold wind, or the memories, she wasn't sure.
"You've done well, lass. Now, go get some rest. You look dead on your feet," Brynjolf said, frowning a little.
She nodded slowly and turned to go find an empty bed. Her foot slipped on the lick floor of the cistern and she tipped over backward. A pair of strong arms twined around her waist, pulling her back against a hard, male body. She blinked sleepily, trying to process what had just happened.
"You know, if you wanted in my arms, you could have just asked," Brynjolf murmured against her ear.
She shoved away from him with a strength that surprised him, pushing herself out of his arms violently, and falling back right into the water of the cistern. When she came up for air, she could hear the laughter of her fellow thieves. All she wanted was to drown right then, to end the embarrassment. Then, she saw Brynjolf's surprised, amused face. Maybe she would drown him instead.
...
The beds were all full. For once, all the members of their guild were home at the same time. It was kind of nice, but it made it difficult for her to find a place to crash.
"Where am I supposed to sleep?" she muttered, planting her hands on her hips.
"My bed always has room for you, lass."
She glared over her shoulder at the red head, now sitting up in one of the beds. "I'd rather sleep with a skeever, Brynjolf." She stalked toward the Flagon to sleep at one of the tables. Brynjolf's quiet laugh followed her the whole way.
Valrei wished he was with her, with his arms wrapped around her to protect her against the cold, to comfort her, maybe even more. How was it that she suddenly found herself unable to stop thinking about him? She wondered if his hands were rough and calloused from long years of use, or if they were gentle,nimble. Would his beard tickle her if - when - she kissed him? she wanted to hear him murmur "lass" in his ear, and laughed at her when she did something silly.
Why was she thinking about him? And why was she so bloody cold?
"I'll give Brynjolf your regards."
Even with the poison holding her still, she felt the knife press against her throat, felt the skin split and peel back. And then it was just pain and blood and darkness.