ANON NOTE: Forgive this anon for the lame fill, but the first thing that came to my mind when I thought of my Nerevarine in Skyrim... was this. I'm not sure if I want to do more of it... I might, if someone requests it, but for now I'll just stop here. Hope it pleases you, OP!
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“Heyyyy, hey, don’t you know any other songs?” Azura’s tits, she was drunk. These Nords didn’t know how to drink right. Their mead was not nearly aromatic enough for her tastes, and she missed the sujamma from Vvardenfell. When that nice dunmer from the marketplace had assured her that he knew where to find some and would get his hands on a shipment soon, she'd been filled with glee; after so many decades drinking Akaviri swine piss, so light she could only get giggly after a couple bottles, Viatrix had feared she'd never see decent alcohol again. At first she’d thought she’d act drunker than she actually was, just to see what exactly she was getting into, but after a few more tankards she found that she didn’t have to act anymore. And she didn’t care, either.
“Nah, your turn, miss. I’m goin’ to listen now.” At least her drinking companion was fun. He reminded her of someone she used to know, all smiles and swift as a cat, but that one was a Bosmer, and this one was most definitely a human. Breton, maybe? He’d offered her a drink of mead when she’d managed to get herself thrown out by the Argonians running the local inn, and had invited her in this rat hole she wouldn’t have mistaken for a tavern even while high on Skooma. He apparently hadn’t missed how she’d managed, in the brief commotion that had preceded her defenestration, to stick her fingers in a dozen of pockets and relieve the owners of some lovely jewels they certainly had no need for. Starting a brawl was surprisingly easy in those cities, what with all that civil war deal, although the woman behind the counter hadn’t appreciated her amazing debate skills... and now there she was, getting drunk with a stranger under the suspicious eyes of other strangers in slinky leather armor. No, that was obviously a thievery den, and he was either trying to rob her blind or recruit her.
Except she’d somehow managed to talk him into drinking just as much as she did, if not more. And sing tavern songs. She wondered why that blonde kept glaring at them... they were absolutely amazing singers. Well, not really, but they were definitely having fun.
“You sure, sera? You’ve heard how bad I am.” She chuckled, tankard in her hand as she gestured, still eloquent as ever; except that she had no idea about where she was planning to get to, this time, and so, beyond getting him drunk, she wasn’t too sure what to do. Oh well. Maybe something would get to her mind after the next bottle. “Ever heard Farewell to Colovia? No? Can’t believe you know none of those! Wait, or this… We lost some gallant gentlemen from ranks of brave House Dreee-enim…” She started singing, this time alone.
“Heh, never heard those either. What’s that, Dunmer?”
“And many a wand'ring widow weeps on the hills of Molag Beee-eran… O-oh, yeah, Dunmer. Ah, but forget about it, too sad a song for such a fun night.”
“So true, friend… so true. Ah, but did I hear right before? Out of a job, aren’t you?” Ah-ah, there it was! He was getting to the point. He could stick to his goal, she had to give it to him, even though it looked like it was getting a bit hard to stay on focus, even for him. Or maybe he was playing the same game she’d been trying to, and was beating her. That was possible, too, she knew better than to turn overly confident, even after all those years of practice. As a response to his question, she sighed dramatically, though in a clearly joking manner.
“Why yes, out of a job. But I did arrive only a couple days ago. Maybe I’ll find something… look around, see if anyone has need for a bit of subtlety and a quick sword arm…” She trailed off, with a mischievous smile, her fingers caressing the crescent blade she’d rested against the chair, the only unusual trinket she’d allowed herself to carry around for everyone to see. Daedric weapons were as unusual there as anywhere else, but nobody could blame her for being well armed.
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timeasmymeasure
Mead, thievery, and other social lubricants. [part 1/2]
Date: 2013-01-11 12:38 am (UTC)“Heyyyy, hey, don’t you know any other songs?” Azura’s tits, she was drunk. These Nords didn’t know how to drink right. Their mead was not nearly aromatic enough for her tastes, and she missed the sujamma from Vvardenfell. When that nice dunmer from the marketplace had assured her that he knew where to find some and would get his hands on a shipment soon, she'd been filled with glee; after so many decades drinking Akaviri swine piss, so light she could only get giggly after a couple bottles, Viatrix had feared she'd never see decent alcohol again. At first she’d thought she’d act drunker than she actually was, just to see what exactly she was getting into, but after a few more tankards she found that she didn’t have to act anymore. And she didn’t care, either.
“Nah, your turn, miss. I’m goin’ to listen now.” At least her drinking companion was fun. He reminded her of someone she used to know, all smiles and swift as a cat, but that one was a Bosmer, and this one was most definitely a human. Breton, maybe? He’d offered her a drink of mead when she’d managed to get herself thrown out by the Argonians running the local inn, and had invited her in this rat hole she wouldn’t have mistaken for a tavern even while high on Skooma. He apparently hadn’t missed how she’d managed, in the brief commotion that had preceded her defenestration, to stick her fingers in a dozen of pockets and relieve the owners of some lovely jewels they certainly had no need for. Starting a brawl was surprisingly easy in those cities, what with all that civil war deal, although the woman behind the counter hadn’t appreciated her amazing debate skills... and now there she was, getting drunk with a stranger under the suspicious eyes of other strangers in slinky leather armor. No, that was obviously a thievery den, and he was either trying to rob her blind or recruit her.
Except she’d somehow managed to talk him into drinking just as much as she did, if not more. And sing tavern songs. She wondered why that blonde kept glaring at them... they were absolutely amazing singers. Well, not really, but they were definitely having fun.
“You sure, sera? You’ve heard how bad I am.” She chuckled, tankard in her hand as she gestured, still eloquent as ever; except that she had no idea about where she was planning to get to, this time, and so, beyond getting him drunk, she wasn’t too sure what to do. Oh well. Maybe something would get to her mind after the next bottle. “Ever heard Farewell to Colovia? No? Can’t believe you know none of those! Wait, or this… We lost some gallant gentlemen from ranks of brave House Dreee-enim…” She started singing, this time alone.
“Heh, never heard those either. What’s that, Dunmer?”
“And many a wand'ring widow weeps on the hills of Molag Beee-eran… O-oh, yeah, Dunmer. Ah, but forget about it, too sad a song for such a fun night.”
“So true, friend… so true. Ah, but did I hear right before? Out of a job, aren’t you?” Ah-ah, there it was! He was getting to the point. He could stick to his goal, she had to give it to him, even though it looked like it was getting a bit hard to stay on focus, even for him. Or maybe he was playing the same game she’d been trying to, and was beating her. That was possible, too, she knew better than to turn overly confident, even after all those years of practice. As a response to his question, she sighed dramatically, though in a clearly joking manner.
“Why yes, out of a job. But I did arrive only a couple days ago. Maybe I’ll find something… look around, see if anyone has need for a bit of subtlety and a quick sword arm…” She trailed off, with a mischievous smile, her fingers caressing the crescent blade she’d rested against the chair, the only unusual trinket she’d allowed herself to carry around for everyone to see. Daedric weapons were as unusual there as anywhere else, but nobody could blame her for being well armed.