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skyrimkinkmeme CLOSED FOR PROMPTS,
BUT OPEN FOR FILLS
HELPFUL TIPS
BUT OPEN FOR FILLS
HELPFUL TIPS
>Please post your prompts with the paired characters and any notable kinks/trigger warnings in the title.
>When posting prompts, always remember to add kinks you're both looking for and wanting to avoid in a potential fill.
>When filling, please remember to add your story tags: characters, relationship types, kinks, series and universe (ie: skyrim)
>Our character limit here at LJ is 4300.
>If you have any other questions about posting, visit the HOW TO KINK MEME THREAD, under the Page Summary on your left.
>When posting prompts, always remember to add kinks you're both looking for and wanting to avoid in a potential fill.
>When filling, please remember to add your story tags: characters, relationship types, kinks, series and universe (ie: skyrim)
>Our character limit here at LJ is 4300.
>If you have any other questions about posting, visit the HOW TO KINK MEME THREAD, under the Page Summary on your left.
Hunter and Moon [1/?]
Date: 2014-09-18 10:43 pm (UTC)-----
Felyse hated Windhelm. It smelled vile when the wind blew in the wrong direction, it snowed all the time, and of course being a Dunmer in a notoriously intolerant hellhole wasn't fun either. And it was cold. Still, that was nothing a cup of sujamma wouldn't fix, particularly if she had somebody to brag to at the same time. She shouldered her way into the warmth of the cornerclub, exchanging nods with a would-be bard plinking out Cliffracer's Bane with somewhat more enthusiasm than skill. And oh, that was a new face...
Ambarys didn't have much to say, for once. “Relynan? I think he's a mercenary. Shows up for a week or so every few months, then he's off again. But he keeps to himself and pays his tab, so I don't pry. Anyway, what can I get you?” Felyse paid for her drink and wandered through the trickle of patrons to where the singer had moved on to appreciating a bottle of flin. He didn't look like a sellsword, but the good ones tended not to when they weren't soliciting.
“You want company?” He looked up in surprise for a moment before a faint smile crossed his face.
“That depends on the company. And who am I speaking to, given I saw you winkling information from Ambarys?”
Mmm. If that wasn't a pure Morrowind voice, she'd eat the next dragon she ran into. Unless it was Paarthurnax.
“Name's Felyse, and I'm guessing you're Relynan. Just thought you'd want someone to compare scars with. Maybe you know about a ruin I haven't cleared yet.” There. That should make it clear what she wanted for the next hour, and maybe the night would take care of itself.
“Unfortunately, I clear out most of the ruins I go through. The barrows should still be teeming, though – I never want to see another draugr if I can help it.”
Felyse grinned and folded herself into the table's other seat. “The last barrow I went through had four wights all trying to Shout me through the walls at once. That was not fun. Then again, I picked up some fantastic loot, so,” she shrugged and took a sip, “it all evens out.”
The other elf raised his cup and looked at her steadily over the rim. “True enough. The best set of armour I've ever owned was found through dungeon crawling. Swords, too.” His other hand dipped to where a curved blade wrapped in oilskin hung on his belt. “It's just a shame the woman who sent me after them then tried to kill me.” Something dark and grieving flickered across his expression.
“I know how that feels,” Felyse volunteered. “There's always someone who thinks they can kill you instead of paying, never mind you just killed a dragon in front of them.” She reconsidered.”Actually, make that one dragon every few hours. It gets tedious. Like killing cliff racers used to be.” That was what her mother had told her, anyway.
Relynan huffed in amusement. “In some ways, cliff racers were worse than dragons. You'd take a step outside, say, Balmora, and the sky would be black with the s'wit from horizon to horizon. At least dragons don't flock.” Wait. How did he know how dragons fought? And he didn't look old enough to remember when cliff racers had been a real problem, either.
“Usually.” He looked sceptical. “No, really. I was sent after one lairing out Riften way and it called in friends. I was lucky - there was an old mine nearby, so I hid there and stabbed them every time they landed to burn me out.” He laughed quietly and mirthlessly, in a way that set her bristling. “What?”
“Ten years ago, I thought Alduin was a metaphor. Now I know he isn't – and the dragons he brought with him aren't the mortal ones of the last eras. Metaphors aren't supposed to flap around killing things!” Now he was beginning to tick Felyse off.
“What do you mean, metaphor?” When had her cup emptied? He leant across the table to fill her cup from his bottle, pausing for a moment to drum his fingers in thought.
Re: Hunter and Moon [2/?]
Date: 2014-09-18 10:45 pm (UTC)“Fair enough. You've been cagey enough for two anyway.”
Relynan smiled. “In any case, I should really find a bed for the night. I have business in Winterhold that really can't wait.”
He rose to his feet. “Incidentally, Dragonborn? The woman I mentioned, who tried to kill me over a sword – her name was Almalexia.”
Re: Hunter and Moon [2/?]
Date: 2014-09-21 01:55 pm (UTC)Could you please post a list of your tags for this fill? Thank you! :)
Re: Hunter and Moon [2/?]
Date: 2014-09-21 09:19 pm (UTC)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?”
Re: Hunter and Moon [4/?]
Date: 2015-02-26 04:52 pm (UTC)“To defeat Dagoth Ur, I had to break the source of his power,” he said, voice low and flat. “It was one of the cornerstones of reality, and destroying it broke the Tribunal's power as well. Dagon's armies invaded, and I wasn't there. Lie Rock fell, and I wasn't there. I was needed, and I wasn't there...” His voice dropped, barely noticing the spoon bending in his grip. “How can I face the Dunmer after that?”
...I swear before all gods and men, before all spirits, visible and invisible, before your honour and my own...
Felyse fell silent, taking the spoon from his hand to give the glop in the cooking pot another cursory stir. Then she said, ”You are really overdramatic, you know that?”
“I was under oath, Dragonborn. Just as you are. I fulfilled the first half, but I couldn't have stuffed the second half harder if I tried.” He was being childish, he knew, but it had been entirely too long since he'd had a good old-fashioned snit.
“Would it kill you to use my name?” She glared in his general direction. “If I'm the Dragonborn, you don't get to not be the Nerevarine.”
A startled laugh forced its way out, and he shook his head ruefully. She was right, even if he didn't want her to be. ...But maybe it's time for a change. Time for something young and new... maybe young folks like you should try some new ideas...
Well. Things had certainly changed. Time for new ideas.