Ever since his night with Sanguine, Dyce had managed to cut down on his drinking. A bit. It was just too unexpectedly expensive to drink to that level of excess, and so it was much rarer than he woke up in strange places – with strange people, yes, but that was different.
He was outdoors definitely, but he wasn’t cold, which was deeply, deeply strange. The last place he remembered being was in Solitude. The Bards, for all their other faults, threw great parties. Not so great as to have one wake up near the Riften hot springs, which was where Dyce assumed he was. What exactly had happened? He didn't seem to have been sick, and he didn't smell disgusting, so he couldn't think of any reason why Viarmo might have thrown him out.
His head hurt, however. His first thought was that he’d been robbed, although Dyce tended not to enquire too closely. If you woke up with a sore head and no cash, it was just more pleasant to assume you’d had a great time, as opposed to being rolled. It didn’t matter; Dyce was incapable of holding onto his money under any circumstances. Easy come, easy go.
Dyce sat up, and looked about, and felt the strangest sensation of vertigo, quite distinct from the ache in his head. It was so flat here. No mountains. He’d never imagine he’d miss them, but he felt oddly insecure without a horizon ringed by their grave, snow-capped presence. This wasn’t Skyrim. This didn’t look like anywhere. Dyce looked for the moons, and was deeply unhappy when he couldn’t locate them. This might not even be Tamriel. At least he still had his weapons.
And at least he was not alone.
There was another Breton sitting nearby watching him. He was young, dressed in leather armour, and rather pretty. His long red hair was loose around his shoulders, except for a narrow plait on each side to keep it out of his brown eyes. He looked pensive as he sat on the rock, hugging his legs, and very pale in the moonlight. Shorter even than Dyce, skinny, almost girlish – yet there was some aura of power around him, something that suggested that dismissing him because of his size would be a mistake. Was he a mage? Dyce was fairly sure he'd never seen him before, since he'd definitely remember a man who was quite that attractive.
The stranger looked concerned as he watched Dyce clutching his head, and reached out to touch him lightly on the shoulder. “Are you all right?”
“Yeah, I think so. Where the fuck are we?”
“I'm not really sure. My lover's gone to try to find out. He should be around here somewhere.” The other redhead looked around anxiously, though no other humans were in sight. No other living beings of any species, in fact. Just rocks.
“Gone to find out? Find out how?” There didn’t seem to be any logical direction to go and look for answers. “You’re not a friend of Sam’s are you?” Dyce asked suspiciously. “Sam Guevenne? No? Well, never mind.” Dyce decided not to share the entity’s real name. But this would be his style.
Dyce contemplated the facts. They were in the middle of nowhere, and he had no idea where they were. This was some sort of magic shit obviously, since not only did he have no memory, the only other person there didn't seem to know what was going on either. He considered trying to call on Odahviing, but the dragon was just as likely to laugh at them as to actually help, assuming they even were somewhere accessible by dragonflight.
“Well, even if your friend didn’t find answers, I hope he found something to drink.” They weren’t going to last long here otherwise.
There was nothing to do but wait and see, and nothing much to look at but the young man in front of him. He'd described his lover as “he”, which implied that he Liked Men. That was a good start. He also seemed slightly uncomfortable whenever he looked at Dyce, eyes darting across nervously, then away again. Dyce thought it was kind of cute. Relax, loverboy, he thought, I’m not going to make a move on someone clearly taken. Not without permission anyway; Dyce liked to avoid drama.
Dyce held out his hand to the stranger. “The name's Dyce.”
The other Breton looked surprised for a moment, before shaking his hand. “I'm Alix. Alix de Feu.”
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timeasmymeasure
One Night in Oblivion - 1/11
Date: 2012-12-23 04:47 am (UTC)He was outdoors definitely, but he wasn’t cold, which was deeply, deeply strange. The last place he remembered being was in Solitude. The Bards, for all their other faults, threw great parties. Not so great as to have one wake up near the Riften hot springs, which was where Dyce assumed he was. What exactly had happened? He didn't seem to have been sick, and he didn't smell disgusting, so he couldn't think of any reason why Viarmo might have thrown him out.
His head hurt, however. His first thought was that he’d been robbed, although Dyce tended not to enquire too closely. If you woke up with a sore head and no cash, it was just more pleasant to assume you’d had a great time, as opposed to being rolled. It didn’t matter; Dyce was incapable of holding onto his money under any circumstances. Easy come, easy go.
Dyce sat up, and looked about, and felt the strangest sensation of vertigo, quite distinct from the ache in his head. It was so flat here. No mountains. He’d never imagine he’d miss them, but he felt oddly insecure without a horizon ringed by their grave, snow-capped presence. This wasn’t Skyrim. This didn’t look like anywhere. Dyce looked for the moons, and was deeply unhappy when he couldn’t locate them. This might not even be Tamriel. At least he still had his weapons.
And at least he was not alone.
There was another Breton sitting nearby watching him. He was young, dressed in leather armour, and rather pretty. His long red hair was loose around his shoulders, except for a narrow plait on each side to keep it out of his brown eyes. He looked pensive as he sat on the rock, hugging his legs, and very pale in the moonlight. Shorter even than Dyce, skinny, almost girlish – yet there was some aura of power around him, something that suggested that dismissing him because of his size would be a mistake. Was he a mage? Dyce was fairly sure he'd never seen him before, since he'd definitely remember a man who was quite that attractive.
The stranger looked concerned as he watched Dyce clutching his head, and reached out to touch him lightly on the shoulder. “Are you all right?”
“Yeah, I think so. Where the fuck are we?”
“I'm not really sure. My lover's gone to try to find out. He should be around here somewhere.” The other redhead looked around anxiously, though no other humans were in sight. No other living beings of any species, in fact. Just rocks.
“Gone to find out? Find out how?” There didn’t seem to be any logical direction to go and look for answers. “You’re not a friend of Sam’s are you?” Dyce asked suspiciously. “Sam Guevenne? No? Well, never mind.” Dyce decided not to share the entity’s real name. But this would be his style.
Dyce contemplated the facts. They were in the middle of nowhere, and he had no idea where they were. This was some sort of magic shit obviously, since not only did he have no memory, the only other person there didn't seem to know what was going on either. He considered trying to call on Odahviing, but the dragon was just as likely to laugh at them as to actually help, assuming they even were somewhere accessible by dragonflight.
“Well, even if your friend didn’t find answers, I hope he found something to drink.” They weren’t going to last long here otherwise.
There was nothing to do but wait and see, and nothing much to look at but the young man in front of him. He'd described his lover as “he”, which implied that he Liked Men. That was a good start. He also seemed slightly uncomfortable whenever he looked at Dyce, eyes darting across nervously, then away again. Dyce thought it was kind of cute. Relax, loverboy, he thought, I’m not going to make a move on someone clearly taken. Not without permission anyway; Dyce liked to avoid drama.
Dyce held out his hand to the stranger. “The name's Dyce.”
The other Breton looked surprised for a moment, before shaking his hand. “I'm Alix. Alix de Feu.”
The name didn’t ring any bells.