It was pissing outside. Ergnir was sitting somewhere warm and dry, thankfully. In fact, he was in an inn, and there were Argonians and Dunmer and Khajiit, so it had to be they were still in Riften, so things still hadn’t gotten too out of hand. The memory of waking up in a jetty floating somewhere South of Yngvild after a regrettable night at Windpeak Inn was a hauntingly vivid one, and it was an experience he wasn’t looking forward to repeat.
“Hey, there.”
A heavy hand settled on his shoulder, and he‘d been about to ask Vilkas what on Nirn had happened to his face when he realized he was staring at Farkas.
Farkas, who had an impressive black eye, courtesy of Njada, and was now staring Ergnir down like the small and ridiculous thing he truly was.
“Hey.”
Farkas regarded him with a calm smile, his head cocked slightly to the side. “I know you’re a good man, Ergnir, who kills dragons and doesn’t” a hiccup “afraid of anything.”
Ergnir nodded, thinking on how nice it felt, his brain seeming bob inside his skull with the movement.
“But Vilkas is my best brother,” he went on, “and if you go and hurt him, or make him sad, I will make you afraid.”
He stopped nodding. Farkas wasn’t smiling anymore. “Huh?” “I mean that I will maul you. You know, because I’m a werewolf? Well, I was, but if you hurt my brother, I will make Aela change me back and then I will maul you.”
“I think I understood.”
“With my teeth.”
“Yes.”
He nodded again, fast and biting his tongue to make sure it wasn’t a dream. Sadly, it didn’t hurt. He’d probably had more than it is wise. Farkas smiled at him again, so wide he squinted his eyes, and clapped his shoulder hard enough for it to hurt through all the armor.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
timeasmymeasure
Re: The Marriage of the Harbinger and the Dragonborn and its Celebration (2/7)
Date: 2013-07-17 09:34 am (UTC)“Hey, there.”
A heavy hand settled on his shoulder, and he‘d been about to ask Vilkas what on Nirn had happened to his face when he realized he was staring at Farkas.
Farkas, who had an impressive black eye, courtesy of Njada, and was now staring Ergnir down like the small and ridiculous thing he truly was.
“Hey.”
Farkas regarded him with a calm smile, his head cocked slightly to the side. “I know you’re a good man, Ergnir, who kills dragons and doesn’t” a hiccup “afraid of anything.”
Ergnir nodded, thinking on how nice it felt, his brain seeming bob inside his skull with the movement.
“But Vilkas is my best brother,” he went on, “and if you go and hurt him, or make him sad, I will make you afraid.”
He stopped nodding. Farkas wasn’t smiling anymore. “Huh?”
“I mean that I will maul you. You know, because I’m a werewolf? Well, I was, but if you hurt my brother, I will make Aela change me back and then I will maul you.”
“I think I understood.”
“With my teeth.”
“Yes.”
He nodded again, fast and biting his tongue to make sure it wasn’t a dream. Sadly, it didn’t hurt. He’d probably had more than it is wise. Farkas smiled at him again, so wide he squinted his eyes, and clapped his shoulder hard enough for it to hurt through all the armor.