Skyrim Page 5 - "NAKED! Naked naked naked "

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Erik the Slayer + F!PC - The thought that counts 2/2

[(Anonymous)]

However, he barely got out at all. After accidentally setting fire to his own banner, Linwe was so enraged he'd gotten ready to roast the just-fallen-down Erik to a crisp, and no armour could protect him from that. He could practically feel the heat gathering in the elf's palm, the tip of his sword at his throat. And then...

"Hey, pointy-ears!" an almost ridiculously high pitched voice called out from right behind Linwe. Of course, Ursa! He hadn't seen Ursa in the commotion going on between them at all. Linwe broke his concentration and barely turned to look over his shoulder when she whacked him across the head with an iron pot she found lying around. He was disoriented long enough for her to slit his throat, clumsy and inexpirienced, she made an absolute mess of it, but he bled out soon enough and they were safer than they were barely a moment ago.

That was the first time Erik had seen her kill someone. She was barely a child when they'd met and she still was, and she'd taken a life with her own two hands. Such were the casualties of war, the loss of innocence and the necessity for the unimaginable. Somehow, she'd kept herself together and merely commented how the man had fine armour and it was a shame all that blood ruined it, or at least stained it. Though he'd noticed how she stared at the blood on her hands even after it was washed out, for days to come.

They'd looted the bodies and the entire hideout for valuables and finished the job, and on the way from Windhelm to Riften, she confided in him.

"How do you do it?" she mumbled, only continuing when she'd seen him turn around and listen. "How do you... kill them?"

It was an odd question but a necessary one. Erik wasn't really sure himself, it was... difficult, at first at least. Those he'd killed had haunted him until there came others and others and eventually, there were so many he couldn't remember their faces or when or how or even why. He was just defending himself, he always said, and it helped... but she wasn't defending herself that day, she was defending him. And yet, it was the same - how many times had he killed to defend one of his clients, her included?

"...I got used to it, I suppose. Scary thought but I did. Blood and death are unavoidable when you're a mercenary. When you're a thief too, apparently." he smiled at her. When she didn't respond, merely staring at the ground before them as they rode onward, he ruffled her hair. "Cheer up, Ursa. You stopped a wicked man, there's no shame in that. If you hadn't I would be dead, and we probably wouldn't be here." he didn't know how to comfort her right now, and he hoped he'd never have to comfort someone expirience this ever again.

She'd nodded and on the same sturdy horse, they'd talked little until they reached the Riften stables.

The armour he was holding right now didn't have a single stain on it, and looked even better than he remembered it ever being.

"I had it tailored for you..." she admited, "I'd stuffed it all in my knapsack while you were guarding the entrance. It's your size, I think." she smiled. "It's good armour with good enchantments, and you deserve it. I have mine already."

He quite clearly remembered the elven man - more expirienced as he may have been, Arkay rest his soul - wasn't as broad shouldered and most likely had smaller feet. It took the girl a lot of money and a lot of savings to have the armour tailored to his size and the enchantments were probably improved - if not made anew - by some wizard from Gods know where.

"Thank you." he smiled brightly at her and pulled her in for a hug; they stayed like that for a minute or so before he kissed the top of her head and closed the now empty chest.