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>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.
A Beautiful Hatred, 6a/11?
Date: 2014-01-26 02:40 am (UTC)The second Deathlord they fought had a bow. Afterward, Ravyn sat very still while Nalasa snapped the arrow's shaft and pushed it out of his thigh. She thought his muscles were as rigid as they could get, until she laid a hand on his leg and cast the healing spell. At her touch, every muscle in his leg jumped.
Some people were twitchy about restoration magic, but she hadn't expected it of Ravyn. "Tell me about yourself," she said, trying to distract him.
"Go to Oblivion," he muttered, turning his face away.
What was his problem? She hadn't treated him well, it was true, but she'd apologized! She was doing her part to smooth things over, as Brynjolf had ordered, but he wasn't making any corresponding effort. Come to think of it, he'd started brushing her off long before she'd begun taunting him. Pretty much as soon as he'd learned who she was, actually.
When she was done healing him, he stood up, slung his pack over his shoulder, and started into the next room without so much as a word of thanks.
"Ravyn..." She let a bit of her impatience creep into her voice. "A word with you."
He stopped without turning. "Oh, this should be good."
"You've been nothing but rude to me since we first met. What the hell is this about?"
"You mean I didn't lick your boots like all the other recruits."
"I think it's gone a bit beyond 'not licking my boots.'"
"If I don't feel it's worthwhile to cultivate the approval of the all-powerful Dragonborn, my reasons are my own affair."
"Fine." She waited, studying a bit of exposed Nordic carving on the wall, until she was certain she could speak without Shouting at him. "Look. I respect you. You've more than proven yourself in battle. Can we at least have one civil conversation?"
He turned to face her, expressionless. "Very well. What do you want to talk about?"
"You. Everyone wants to talk about me. How amazing it is that I'm the Dragonborn. All that tiresome nonsense. I want to hear about you. Where did you learn to shoot like that?"
"Morrowind, of course. Like any Dunmer archer worth his weight in ash."
She snorted. "Thanks. Where in Morrowind? Who taught you?"
Ravyn sighed. "If I answer honestly, you'll leave me alone for the rest of this ill-advised expedition?"
"if you wish."
"I used to be a member of the Morag Tong. We were an assassin's guild that was sanctioned by the Empire to provide public as well as private assassinations. We did this in the name of Mephala, whom I used to quite fervently worship."
So he was an assassin. They had that in common, and their heritage. They damn well ought to be able to get alone. "It sounds a bit like the Dark Brotherhood."
To her utter shock, he slapped her. "If this conversation was just a veiled excuse to insult me, you'd better walk away now before I decide I don't mind attacking a fellow Guildmember."
"Okay, okay, I'm sorry!" Nalasa raised her hands in defense. "My family had no important ties in Mournhold. I never heard anything about the Tong until I reached Solstheim, and the two I met there weren't very impressive. They're not like the Brotherhood, then?"
"I heard you killed two Morag Tong, but you have a lot of nerve to mention it openly after what I just told you." Ah. An apology and a few kind words weren't going to clear the air, then. Not if there was blood between them.