I am Kogandremaaz, son of Alduin and Celeste. I understand that my name is a mouthful, and I take no offense to others shortening it. In the tongue of the dovah, my name means blessing, peace, mercy.
For a time, many years ago, I was known as Hevnoseaaz. It was a title given to me as I was liberating humanity in a war against my own family, meaning brutality in mercy. I have since revoked the name, and will no longer answer to it.
I prefer to wander Skyrim as a spectre, enjoying the small wonders of the world that I had only ever seen from afar. I invite conversation and messages from others, but I will try not to interfere with the events unfolding among others unless permitted to.
I hope you feel welcomed, traveler. You will not be harmed here.
(ooc: this account is run by @heyhoneyfox, NSFW asks are allowed, mod is an adult)
(Kogandremaaz is aro ace, dead, the son of @worldeaterofficial and @snowgal-celeste, half dovah, half snow elf, 10'6", and around 8500 years old (died at 500ish). I'm currently rewriting their fic and maybe about halfway through? Idk but hopefully I'll finish it somewhat soon. I also wrote an information post about him. Okay that's all byeeeee)
(She teleports to Kayla's house in her eagerness to meet the dog, only to see her son sitting on the floor with Winnie. Technically, she's not supposed to be initiating contact with him at the moment, so she just stares awkwardly until he greets her in falmeri. She greets him back, tentatively, before she starts to rapidly apologise, explaining she only intended to meet the dog, and ask if she should leave. He assures her with a smile that it's fine and invites her over to meet Winnie, to which she happily obliges, allowing them to fall into a semi-comfortable silence.)
“Oh I sort of forgot about uh things….but uh this is Winnie! She’s very friendly and cuddly and very smart and knows all sort of tricks and commands!” :3
“Well when I originally got her they said she was just about a year old so by now she’s closer to 2 I think? I don’t know her exact age sadly, but she’s definitely got that energy!”
I doubt she could appreciate anyone's company as much as she appreciates yours. She seems lost when you are absent, but I think it is easier for her to bear if there are other people around.
(She teleports to Kayla's house in her eagerness to meet the dog, only to see her son sitting on the floor with Winnie. Technically, she's not supposed to be initiating contact with him at the moment, so she just stares awkwardly until he greets her in falmeri. She greets him back, tentatively, before she starts to rapidly apologise, explaining she only intended to meet the dog, and ask if she should leave. He assures her with a smile that it's fine and invites her over to meet Winnie, to which she happily obliges, allowing them to fall into a semi-comfortable silence.)
“Oh I sort of forgot about uh things….but uh this is Winnie! She’s very friendly and cuddly and very smart and knows all sort of tricks and commands!” :3
“Well when I originally got her they said she was just about a year old so by now she’s closer to 2 I think? I don’t know her exact age sadly, but she’s definitely got that energy!”
I doubt she could appreciate anyone's company as much as she appreciates yours. She seems lost when you are absent, but I think it is easier for her to bear if there are other people around.
(She teleports to Kayla's house in her eagerness to meet the dog, only to see her son sitting on the floor with Winnie. Technically, she's not supposed to be initiating contact with him at the moment, so she just stares awkwardly until he greets her in falmeri. She greets him back, tentatively, before she starts to rapidly apologise, explaining she only intended to meet the dog, and ask if she should leave. He assures her with a smile that it's fine and invites her over to meet Winnie, to which she happily obliges, allowing them to fall into a semi-comfortable silence.)
“Oh I sort of forgot about uh things….but uh this is Winnie! She’s very friendly and cuddly and very smart and knows all sort of tricks and commands!” :3
“Well when I originally got her they said she was just about a year old so by now she’s closer to 2 I think? I don’t know her exact age sadly, but she’s definitely got that energy!”
// Spoiler CWs at the end of the first post and in tags.
[Odhaviing is just about to fly above Crow’s cabin for a quick check, when his name is shouted. As usual, he pivots where he’s needed, but there is no trepidation in the powerful motions of his wings: it seems like it’s one of the troublemakers, this time, and he’s calling near Solitude. If issues will ensue, they will likely be due to their shared efforts.
The Dovah lands not too far from Dragon Bridge’s namesake, where he easily spots the Dovahkiin he’s looking for: Lurendil is leaning against a tree, mindlessly fidgeting with the bone rings that neatly fit on the folds of his gauntlets, and an expression that spells boredom long before his star-shaped pupils lift to meet his.]
Are you done going around with that Dovah?
Yes, I am.
[The Bosmer shifts his weight back to his feet, and can’t help a small smile as Odahviing fully enters his vision.]
He sure is… unlike any other dragon I’ve met before. I’m glad to be back with you.
You better, Joor, especially after that show with my ancient lunch. What are you planning this time?
[The Mer sighs, crossing his arms while he tilts his head. His voice is heavy with disappointment and confusion.]
Volsung was missing, gone without a trace with his entire court. I don’t want to be slacking off while everyone else is up to something, so I may as well… you know, check on one of the dragon priests nobody claimed.
[The dragon puffs, lowering his eyelids a little.]
Weren’t you the one suggesting everyone goes at least in pairs, at the Dovahkiinneii meeting? I can’t follow you inside the ruins.
I know. I also don’t want to have done nothing, by the time we all have another one.
[Odahviing rolls his eyes. Mortals will never understand how pathetic they can sound, when they’re using their small, fleshy bodies to be stubborn. Opposing their adventurous spirit, whenever they decide they want to do something, is also pointless.]
Are you sure you shouldn’t bring anyone else along?
[Lurendil shakes his head, letting go of his own hands while he steps forward.]
We’ve all been wasting enough time. The World Eater doesn't seem in a rush either, but... I don't want to wait even longer by negotiating who should go with whom.
[The Dovah grumbles, but his neck is already lowering for the other. He also can't wait for Alduin's latest tantrum to be over, so they can end up talking about anything except Dovahkiinne and the worth of mortals during their arguments.]
Good thing you left that... vermin at home, this time.
I don't know why you're so against Krabrenac, they're just a bloodthirsty mudcrab, and you have tough scales...
You tell yourself that about that fiend. Where should we go then? Was Hevnoraak one of the Sonaakke?
Yes, let's check Valthume.
[As the Bosmer finds a comfortable seat between his spikes, Odahviing stretches his wings, and takes flight again, heading south to the old temple.]
// This thread will feature temporary character death and the related grief.
[A degree of agitation courses through Lurendil's veins, while his hands push against the great door, metal finding purchase against the ancient bas-relief. Every Nordic Ruin is unique, but the experience is nearly identical: dust, stale air, rumbling, cold undeath. He knows it won't be the same, yet...
The hinges screech, and the large chamber beyond echoes its cries. Then silence, uninterrupted by his practiced steps. With a low stance and Auriel's bow in hand, he feels nigh-invincible; but something is odd. Missing.
He advances to the short flight of stairs, almost hiding behind one of the symmetrical pillars and brazier holders, where the sarcophagus rests. Holding his breath, he looks up to see if it's still sealed...
It's not. But beyond it... the metallic stench of spilled blood.
He pauses at the top of the stairs, taking cover while he looks forward. He can see the throne, the basins where he had once spilled Hevnoraak's essence to summon and banish him; as many other Dragonborn have done, doubtlessly. It is also not the source of the smell.
One step forward, and he finds it.
A figure... or rather, pieces of a figure leaning on the opposite side of the sarcophagus. Tattered dragon priest robes are poorly draped above a broken torso, separated from its limbs, opened in several spots, most of its blood splattered on the stone below. Were some of the wounds bite marks? The head is... also detached, tossed a little further, battered and with no protection in sight.
The lifeless face doesn't have a mask, but it doesn't take much imagination to guess his target was already gone.
Lurendil takes a breath. The carnage doesn't bother him, he's done worse; but he doesn't understand. Would one of the Dragonborn do this? Was it... someone else? Are they still around?
He nervously moves his free hand to cast Detect Life.
Nothing.
Detect Undead?
...also nothing. Why would there be no undead in a Nordic Ruin...?
More upset by the latest development than by another mysteriously defeated adversary, he straightens, looks around, and just... walks away, leaving everything exactly as he found it.]
[Odahviing waited in the small clearing in front of Valthume, watching for potential threats from the outside, but mostly lazing by as he waited for the Dovahkiin to re-emerge. He trusted him to get the job done quickly, but expected to have enough time to preen his scales a little... Instead, the Bosmer walks out of the doors not even a couple of minutes later, looking as lost as a Dovah recovering from that awful, mortal-shout. Before he can ask anything, the other clarifies:]
...Already butchered. And there are no draugr in there... again.
[The dragon rumbles, tilting his head in confusion.]
"Butchered"?
Yeah... in pieces. Who would do that? And where is everyone else...?
[Odahviing shuffles, and tucks his tail under his talons while he wonders. Thinking about a time so long ago, yet sifting through a not inconsiderable number of years...]
Faaskaalmir, maybe? He sided with the Firstborn, but those two had history... and so did Otar. That's the other Sonaak nobody was after, wasn't he?
[Lurendil hesitates, clearly not knowing what to do with that information. The other huffs, and shuffles closer.]
As for where the draugr would be, without the Sonaak they were devoted to... I have no clue, Dovahkiin.
[The Mer sighs, fastens the bow to his back once more, and walks toward the Dovah while he grumbles.]
Nothing to do, except check that out too... I swear, if the draugr are gone there too...
[Odahviing lets him back again, and prepares to take off.]
Don't you worry, draugr are not difficult to track down. They will be home soon, unless you Dovahkiinne get attached and decide to adopt them too.
[That manages to get a single chuckle out of the other, who pats his scales before holding on. It is an odd scenario... but the Dovahkiinne will figure it out, surely.]
[Ragnvald: another ruin Lurendil hadn't missed, nor thought about in a long time, nor intended to ever enter again; and even more significantly, one whose entrance made so little sense to him. After taking the wrong way twice, however, the idea he would find nothing again has sunk in a rather convincing way: the air is staler, everything seems quiet, but the door in the distance is already open.
As he gets closer, not even bothering to lower his stance, the sarcophagus comes into view. It's open.
Step after step, he notices the skull keys in their place too. The guardians must have been disposed of again. All that's left to see is whether Otar has been dismembered too...
No, there are no scattered chunks of flesh this time. Another robed body without a mask, however, is burnt to a crisp. One could still see the edges of the malachite cover, protecting the head with its enchantments before it was removed.
He lets out a dispassionate sigh. Explaining to the other Dragonborn that one dragon priest is missing, and two others were betrayed by a supposed ally won't exactly make his track record shine... he could just turn away immediately, but it's worth seeing if the killer is still nearby.
Detect Life... nothing.
Detect Undead...
His stomach cramps.
Rushing in from the Crypts and the Canal, is a blur of energy he has never seen the likes of before.
Are all the draugr in the Ruin about to attack at once?!
Immediately letting go of his bravado, he falls back into the shadows, readying to unleash his arrows against the first wave, when suddenly...]
[Waiting again for the Dovahkiin, on the higher, large stone platform between the arches that precede Ragnvald, Odahviing looks around more warily. He hasn't told the mortal, but he saw some odd movement around the rocky formations that surround the ruin: he dismissed that as the wind, animals scurrying away, or bandits at worst... but the longer the odd silence persists, the less sure he is. And the more he remembers.
How could draugr disappear from their former court, if they were not just destroyed? Maybe they were so distraught at the fate of their priest, they left? Or... did someone else try to control them? At least a few arrogant figures of the dragon cult had tried stealing draugr from a different court, and that usually resolved in frenzied and agitated rebels. Would Faaskaalmir know of that, if he was, in fact, responsible for Hevnoraak's third death? Had he lived long enough to see those episodes?
As if on cue, nearly breathless screeches resound behind him. He turns, and is met with... an army?!
Enough draugr to fill half an ancient city are stumbling from the mountains, up the stairs, clanking their axes on their shields and preparing their ice spells. Where did they come from?! How did he mistake them for... anything else?!
Odahviing turns to face them, unfurls his wings, and roars in their direction. He used to be one of their gods, his sight alone should have them cower in fear... but they are, in fact, frenzied.
They lost their priest. They lost their eternal purpose.
As their arrows and projectiles start flying towards him, he has no time to spare any respect.]
[That is Odahviing's voice. Is the dragon in danger?! Never mind the draugr, he must go help him!
Lurendil casts Muffle and Invisibility, then turns on his heels and runs.
Down the stairs, up the stairs, turn around, turn again... thank Y'ffre for his speed! He gains considerable distance from the pursuers, and by the time he is out of the door...]
Odahviing?!
[The scene in front of him is worse than he expected: while many undead are already burned, burning, and falling apart, many more are charging, unleashing arrows and ice darts, and summoning Frost Atronachs.
The Dovah is already bleeding from multiple blows.]
Fus Ro Dah!
[He forcefully creates space in front of the other, already loosing arrows with the speed and accuracy that make him worthy of being called a Jaqspur, targeting other archers and mages as long as the distance allows them to be his main focus. As soon as the dragon behind him wheezes in recognition, he barks the only strategy he can think of:]
More from the door. You. I kill these.
[Odahviing growls in understanding, before he shuffles to the entrance, prepares to burn or chomp on the upcoming adversaries, and lets his posture slump closer to the ground.
Gods... he really is hurt. All Lurendil wants to do is to cast his strongest Restoration spells on the Dovah, but his hands and attention can't waver for a single moment. Why did he really have to come alone with him?! Why did he agree?!
All he can do is prevent him from getting hit even more, and at least the door is a tight space and shouldn't be difficult to deal with...]
[Odahviing is relieved not to have to deal with the worst of the army any more, but...
By Bormah, it hurts. Everything hurts.
The draugr from within the ruin start rushing to the door, and it is not difficult to meet them with a stream of fire and teeth...
Some still manage to hit, still. So do projectiles from behind... past the Bosmer's own shouts, arrows, and slashing swords and spells when they get too close.
...How... humiliating... to be defended by a mortal...
...No... an ally... a friend...
...a... Dovahkiin...?!
While burning blood runs down his scales and his vision blurs at the edges, panic sets in. They are allies, friends... but... they can annihilate each other completely. That's one of the reasons Alduin can't make peace with their existence, isn't it? What if...
The draugr within start retreating, seeing their peers can't breach the Dovah's defence.
Except an overlord with a big, big greatsword... right into his palate, while his teeth bite into their skull.
...He...
He lets out a scream of pain, while his body starts to fail him. He has to... he has to fly away...
[Lurendil is giving his all to keep the draugr away, take down as many as he can as fast as he can. He can face them, but for how mighty dragons are, numbers tend to be a weak spot for them... and this was all a mistake. He was dumb, impatient, and got him in trouble... that's all he can afford to think while the attack continues.
Shoot, shoot, shoot, shout, shoot, stab, slash, shoot, shoot, shout... a quick fire spell for good measure... repeat. He can't afford anything else, despite how handy a couple of atronachs could be. They all keep coming, his Dismay shout didn't work, maybe he can throw in a...
The fine hair on his nape raises when he hears that horrible sound from Odahviing. One he has heard from so many dragons before... but never from a friend.
Cold sweat runs through his body. He knows what comes next. He can't let it happen.]
Wuld Nah Kest!
[He launches himself down the platform, landing straight onto a group of draugr, and once again, he runs. Swords and axes bash into his armour, but he doesn't care, anything to get away from the dragon before his soul...
A larger draugr steps into him at just the right time to make him trip. He's not far enough... No, NO!!
With a scream, he launches at the undead to tear his throat open with his teeth. It's too late. Odahviing is going to be dead. He's going to be dead!! It's all their fault!! It's all his fault!!
With the newfound fury, he slashes madly at everything around him, screeching instead of shouting, twirling instead of slashing... until enough of a clearing is carved, and he can cast Fire Storm too.
When he's done, and those still standing finally retreat, Lurendil collapses to his knees and wheezes. Too drained to heal himself. Too winded to cry. Too horrified to look up at the large skeleton on the platform above.
[Minutes pass, and while Lurendil catches his breath... nothing happens.
The booming noise? The whirling in his head? The strange lights raising from the remains, and seeping into his bones with ancient knowledge?
It doesn't happen.
The Bosmer heaves as he stands on shaking legs, and he slowly, carefully climbs the stairs. Ready to flee if that were to change. Ready to...
Odahviing lays motionless in front of the door, bloody, broken, with nothing in his eyes and vapour on his scales, as his hot remains turn cold. That's... that's a dead creature. No doubt about it, but... he can't really be dead, can he?! He would... his soul would be leaving now, wouldn't it? That's not possible! That's the first thing he learnt about being Dragonborn, a Dragonborn absorbs dragon souls!
The Bormer stumbles, and doesn't bother getting up; he crawls to the corpse instead. He unfastens and throws his gauntlets aside, and grabs his horns as tightly as he can, pulling himself closer to the head that's so still...]
Odahviing?! Please, say something!
[Nothing. He's dead but he's not. What... what can he do?! He forces what little magicka he has recovered into a healing spell... nothing changes.]
Please...
[His hands slide down to the dragon's cheeks, and he holds on his skull as if that's going to bring him back. It won't.]
...
[So many ideas whirl in his head. Most of them awful and useless. He doesn't know what to do. Doesn't know how to fix this. Doesn't know if this can even be fixed.
...Until he remembers someone who, maybe, can.
With a few deep breaths, he lifts his head just enough to shout, and calls the only one who can bring his friend back.]
(Alduin had gone through his day in unsettling silence, haunted by a tension that clung to her like static, an unfamiliar sense of dread following her like a shadow. He knew not what was causing it, but was certain that the threat was far from him. Still, the anxiety persisted and built with every moment.)
(It wasn't until a distinct shift quaked in her chest, leaving a sudden emptiness in a space that once held her end of a torn connection, that he realised his soul had been trying to warn her of something dire, something he could have prevented, a loss that would plague the depths of his heart. He was no stranger to grief, but this... This was incapacitating. It seemed to scrape at his hollow insides, shoveling any remnants of hope and peace from him like flesh from a gourd, and she did not even know what she had lost.)
(Then he heard his name, distinctly called from the mortal plane. It was terrified, distant, yet clear in each syllable, shouted in the voice of that one dovahkiin... Lurendil, his name was. Alduin remembered him, was fond of him even, but did not know why he would call upon her so soon. As his focus drifted to the scene around Lurendil in search of context, he felt a wisp of dragonic energy near the dragonborn, the remnants of a fallen brother; a powerful one, too. He did not have to wonder who it was. He knew that soul, had seen it before it had a body to inhabit. Yet it took him a moment to process the fact that that body was even capable of death.)
(Finally, the realisation of what he has lost grasped at his wings and forced them into frenzied flight towards the summons. She prayed from her sunken heart that she was wrong; "please, father, if ever you have cared for the life you created, let me be wrong. Let Odahviing be alive and well, even if it means I must suffer for it." All that he could think of was the deep rooted terror she felt at the idea of losing her brother just after she had found him, and the desperation for just a bit more time, for just one more happy memory of him.)
(She had to be wrong. He couldn't stand the thought of being right.)
(But there, outlined by drab stonework that insulted his radiant crimson scales, she saw him, bloodied and broken. A being with an inner world so vibrant and full, so considerate and courageous, laid motionless upon the carvings of mortals. His friend who had grown to loathe him, who had seen him through the worst of times, who she had sung to on stormy nights and held closer than any other. The dovah that he had taken under his wing after Akatosh's betrayal and vowed to protect for all of time was dead.)
(Her conscience didn't consider or register the dovahkiin beside the body, the way the dovah's form remained intact when it should've been sucked into the bosmer's. She only processed the smell of her kin's blood, the sight of his lifeless eyes, the stillness of his scales, and the way the colour seemed to drain for the world in his mourning.)
(Alduin's form moved without thought or sense beyond the ringing in his ears and the ache in his chest as he pulled Odahviing's body into her wings, tucked him under her snout and stared into empty space. A faint and high pitched whine rang from her throat, a quiet yet harsh cry for her fallen kin that seemed to cut through the whispering wind for all that would hear his grief.)
(He was supposed to stay with his brothers, to protect them as Akatosh never had, to ensure that they lived with joy and freedom and power, and she had failed. She had allowed them to grow distant from her, to stray from her protection, and now her brother was dead because of it, because even after all that she sacrificed for him, she still hadn't done enough to keep him alive. He didn't care how it had happened; he knew that, at the root of things, he was at fault. That was enough to send him into a pit of grief, of guilt, for truly, he was just as cruel and abusive and selfish as his father, and now Odahviing was dead because of him.)
[Lurendil's breath shook after the shout, and drifted into shallow, pained gasps, too dry and quiet to be sobs. Would the World Eater even respond, to one of the fated foes who had already defeated him? One of those trying to banish her back into timeless silence? Had anyone suggested he would ever call for Alduin's help, just a few months back, he would have deemed it insanity... yet there he was, shaking fingers stained with despair, hoping for a miracle to turn ashes into flames.
She wouldn't come. Nobody could undo his mistakes. He deserved pain and grief and unchanging judgement for causing his friend's death.
He closed his eyes, and let his head slide against the cooling scales until his antlers scraped against the motionless horn. It was unbearable. Dov were not supposed to die, to keep being so recognizable when their essence was gone, to be... the closest thing he had left to elder family members, and be gone too, to leave him alone again. He had never recognised Akatosh's mercy in the destruction of a dragon's form, after their ultimate defeat. He never... he never wanted to see it again. Not with Odahviing. Not with any Dovah.
The winds turned, carrying a presence he was supposed to fear and loathe. Lurendil's body flinched on its own accord, a reflex to defend a finite creature from something so imposing and powerful, but a timid pang of hope clutched his chest as he fell back on his heels...
A flame that was snuffed, by a display of sorrow so abysmal, it could shake the entirety of the Aurbis and shatter time itself.
It was real. It was all real...
He shut his eyes again, and tears finally flowed through his shaking lashes, while his bloodied hands clutched the hair at the base of his antlers. He was ready to scream, to beg, to do anything as long as Odahviing could fly again... but for a long while, he did nothing.
He knew nothing. He didn't deserve to intrude on Alduin's grief, not after what he had done. He deserved nothing but to suffer and wander aimlessly, alone and formless.]
(The wind continued as the only sound for several beats. Alduin merely stayed with his brother, moments flashing in front of him. She had always tried to cling to the memories of shielding him from the rain, of granting him power immeasurable and seeing how he basked in it. But now he was seeing the painful moments she brought him, the arguments, the demands, the torment they reigned on mortals; a battle that he had been dragged into when it was born of Alduin's grudges, not his. And when Odahviing had expressed his shame for that torment, Alduin had only made it worse in his attempts to lift the guilt from his own shoulders.)
(She had been a terrible caretaker, hadn't she? Berating, unpredictable, emotional, selfish. He had always been aware of it, but only now did he realise how deeply he was to blame for it all.)
(Odahviing left because Alduin was making him miserable. There was no one else to blame for that, and now one of her closest friends was lost, a soulless corpse bled out on the stone. All because of a war she started with the claim that it was for her family, for beings like him.)
(Time had become immeasurable by the time he spoke through her guilt and grief, low and hoarse, body unmoving.)
[Lurendil's hands had fallen back to his greaves, to pool with the silent tears that broke free from his shut eyelids. His own whirlpool of regret rung in his ears, until the question he had ignored is spoken. This... this all was not about himself, but... he somewhat understands. He had tried to flee, not to face that possibility, but there was no guarantee the respite from his nature would last.
At the same time, that meant Odahviing's soul was still there, somewhere, untouched. The overwhelming grasp in his gut loosened, even if just barely.
He took a deep breath, and broke his stiffened lashes apart to look upon Alduin.]
...I don't know. I didn't... want to... but I never chose to do it...
[His voice shook. That sounded like an excuse... but it wasn't. The rush from a slain Dovah's soul was exhilarating, and served his drive for power well... the first times. He hadn't needed it any more, after his own fated battle; but the ambushes had never stopped, and neither had the grasping of ancient souls. Or more precisely... he hadn't felled a Dovah in a while, but surely...
He shook his head. He didn't want to think about it, all he wanted was...]
...Please... bring him back. He doesn't deserve... this... I will... stop fighting if... if that's what you want... for him to live...
[But beyond the grief, the terror, the anger, the uncertainty, the unwavering Thu'um... unbeknownst to the Bosmer himself, Lurendil's soul bore a golden mark in the shape of a dragon's soul, but the brilliance had faded. What was once a blessed creation, had become nothing more than a mortal with a temporary gift.]
(He had been too busy grieving to consider reviving Odahviing earlier, but now that Lurendil had mentioned it, the idea refused to leave his mind. It would take a great deal of strength, perhaps even permanently weakening her, but would she really prefer to let him die? It was no lie, after all, that her priority had always been the dov, her family, even if it didn't always show. He could not stand idly by while they faced such pain; he never had, and he never would, no matter what it cost him.)
You do not need to beg me to revive my own family, dovahkiin. Rok fent lahney.
(The whiplash of returning a soul to its body so soon after one's death would be difficult to quell, but it was possible to ease, if the one reviving them had the skill and strength. The effort of doing so would take a lot out of her, and while she's in that weakened state, Odahviing could very well take the opportunity to kill him and end the war with a single strike. It would be simple, easy, and well within his rights. Alduin recognises this, and he knows that it would be wiser and easier to leave Odahviing to die, but his mind is made up. She would die a thousand deaths before allowing one of her brothers to die in front of her, especially one she loves as much as Odahviing.)
Slen Tiid Vo.
(As her shout blankets Odahviing, the energy seeps from her body and pushes it to collapse. She concentrates all of the power left in her on ensuring that the shout works as it's meant to. Alduin guides Odahviing's soul back to his body, still held against him, and finds himself praying to his father again. Never in her life had she cared about her father's influence as much as she does today. Silently, he begs, "even if I must die painfully, please, let him live," for no fate would be as painful as the knowledge that his actions had brought Odahviing to his death.)
[For a long while, for a few moments, for a speck in the currents and infinite ripples, it was nothing but a breeze, aimless and free and full and empty. It was always. It was never. It was someone. It was nobody at all.
Then, it remembered. It had a home. It had a purpose. At some level... it mattered, and golden threads of swirling essence surrounded it, beckoning it as they commanded it to follow. There was no ambiguity in the herald's will, but it knew all it had to do was to be carried, a plume of smoke in the breeze.
Backward and backward, it flowed to the source, and started recognizing himself.]
[Consciousness stirs behind Odahviing's eyes, while the chill that had seeped into his bones is vaporized by the fire beneath his scales. With a jerk and a breath, the stench of blood and charred undeath bids him welcome, and so does the metallic tang of rust and steel in his mouth. He sees black, his wings cannot unfurl... what happened?
Somewhere nearby, is a familiar presence he cannot pin down yet, small and impermanent yet fearsome; he knows he cares for it, like all of those whose nature is similar, yet a hint of terror in their regard still echoes in his mind. And above, someone so powerful, so unending...
The Dovah tries to free himself, screeches, and trashes in recognition. Alduin is on him, when he's weak, scared, and no longer obeying her. A Dovahkiin, the fated opponent, is nearby. Did the World Eater attack them? Is he trying to kill them both? Is she trying to feed his soul to his own ally, to prove some sort of point? Why would his big brother do this? How could she?!
Odahviing roars and chomps down wherever he can, hoping that's enough to make Alduin hesitate, stagger, get away... anything, so both of them can flee, so the Dragonborn can use their terrible shout and save them... but when a mortal's voice comes through, it's not for a fight.]
Odhaviing! Drem! Faasnu los, Nid Tahrovin til los...
[Hands coated in a weak restorative spell find one of his legs, and while his bite loosens, he still shakes. He doesn't understand...]
(Alduin's world is turns to static in her fatigue, all sounds strainfed and muffled yet overwhelmingly clear, her vision spinning with dazzling shows of colour, and her muscles made of sugar melting under the blaze of her desperation.)
(Though the crushing weight of Alduin's exhaustion remains present, it becomes inconsequential as he registers the fact that Odahviing is alive, and is replaced by a cleansing relief that settles his aching wings. He silently thanks his father the divines a million times over, her affection refusing to waver even with the accompaniment of her brother's deafening roars and violent thrashing. Alduin does nothing to fight Odahviing off as she slips in and out of sleep, even as her scales split and bleed beneath the the force of his maw, even though he can feel the hatred seeping from the younger dovah's bones.)
(Through it all, he remains quiet, save for a low rumble of endearment deep in his chest. All he cares about right now is the fact that his little brother is alive again, and he is too weak to worry about anything else, anyways. He decides he is fine with that. She's just glad she got to see him again.)
[Odahviing lets go of the oldest Dovah, while his breath rushes and his scales vibrate with her low rumble, one he knows so well and missed so much. Why does it all have to be like this? Why does she have to ruin everything? Why can't he make peace with what is over, and stop yearning for what was never meant to be?
The mortal hands on his leg, cold and frail with exhaustion, regain a name and a history. With a glance, he remembers that Dovahkiin, from the first sharp-toothed grin of a captor, to the frenzied Thu'um of a dear ally failing to protect him. He... he thought he was about to be gone, forever removed from the Aurbis, turned into a mindless echo of knowledge and power somewhere in Lurendil's soul... Dovahkiinne usually don't know how to prevent their hunger from consuming their kin... yet, he is still here. Alduin brought him back.
How? Did the Bosmer call his fated enemy for him...? Was a bargain made? Did the mortal give up his power to save him? No, it can't be... the World Eater lies weakened, barely there. She did it all on her own and is paying the price. Why? How is he supposed to win the war he started, if he cannot fight on?
His fear and anger turn to pain, and a wail echoes in his throat while his snout finds the bleeding tears he's caused and presses on them. She is still a sworn adversary... but she's also his sister, still. He doesn't want him to suffer, especially after what he's just done. If the Dovahkiin were to order him to finish the job now... how could he do it?]
[But Lurendil is uninterested in war tactics. He moves off from Odahviing's leg to rest against his side, while his own terror and grief melt into a blend of incomprehensible agitation, gratitude, and guilt; he can only keep the turmoil at bay by pushing his arms against the dragon, in an uneffective but desperate hug, away from Alduin's maw.]
[The mortal is spent. Odahviing is still adjusting. Alduin is... not doing good, now. If she helped him... despite everything... it's only fair he tries to do the same.]
(Kogandremaaz, mildly hungover and eating spicy dill pickles, recognises the voice that calls him. A voice he particularly dislikes, both for personal history and for the insults his father has withstood from its maw. The amount of times he has shared genuine praises for Alduin's character when she's feeling unwell, only to be met with denial because Odahviing said otherwise. How deeply that dovah's resentment for his father has leeched into his mind, replacing all pride and contentment with shame and unhappiness with a simple few words spoken without regret. Does he even know how deeply Alduin values his opinion? How much she beats himself up over his offhand comments?)
(But there was an urgency in Odahviing's shout that could not be ignored, and Kogandremaaz knew that he would not be called upon unless the situation was desperate. And of course, there was that feeling of dread that had been settling in Kogan's stomach, and he no longer felt that the alcohol was to blame.)
(His spectre appears, appearing reluctant for a moment until he recognises the scent of blood, of gore that he had only smelled once in his life thousands of years ago, yet he recognises it instantly. He sees the form of his father, bloodied and broken, laying tiredly in the dust, and horror settles deep in his gut. It was all too similar to how he had been after hours of gruesome battle and years of bitter war, before his son had buried his sword to its hilt in his skull. He remembers her final words in clarity; how she asked him not to dwell on her loss, insisted with her full heart that she had never hated him, that she had remained proud of him in all his defiance and treachery, even after he had taken away everything that she held dear.)
(Through grief and terror, he runs to Alduin, kneels and holds her jaw as if trying to keep her life force contained within her body, chest heaving with panic. He knows that he won't die, yet still, the fear of what could happen to him now consumes Kogan. With a shaking voice, he soothes Alduin in dovahzul.)
Drem, bormah. Zu'u het. Su'um; zu'u fent pruzah, vaat.
(With a low purring whine, his father leans into his arms before allowing his trembling form to go limp again. After a heaving sigh of relief, Kogandremaaz turns to Odahviing as rage brews where his panic had settled. He hisses in accusation, assuming the worst in place of the context he's missing.)
Was it really not enough for you to rip up his soul every time you two spoke? You had to go and tear apart his body as well? You are lucky that he cares for you, or I would strike you down where you stand for daring to harm him.
[Odahviing retreats from Alduin, leaning into the small mortal's attempt at a hold instead. He knew the reunion would not be pleasant for anyone involved, no after what had transpired millennia ago, not after avoiding the half-Dovah's spirit so long... but the accusation has him speechless.
He and Alduin had not fallen out all at once, being captured and making a deal with the Dovahkiinne had just been the excuse for their disagreements to emerge more clearly; but while he had been complicit in her fated downfall every time, he had never wanted to harm her himself. He knew he would not be gone when the Dragonborn did it, and that's... different, right? And what does he mean, "rip up his soul"? All he did was speak his mind, trying to get her to understand her errors, hoping it would help her recognise she was not having the effect she desired, move on, see the possibilities ahead, and see a world for both Dov and Joorre without terror was possible...
But none of that matters. Alduin's blood is fresh on his own fangs. What good are intentions and excuses, when suffering is achieved instead? That's the same thing he keeps accusing the other not to care about. He doesn't have an answer. All he does is lower his head in shame.]
[From his side, instead, Lurendil's shaking voice tries to defend him once again, after failing so terribly earlier.]
...Odahviing died. Alduin brought him back. He... you didn't know what was happening, for a moment... did you?
[The Dovah's eyes turn downward even more with a grumble, because while it's true, it doesn't change the fact he attacked his brother. The Bosmer's, instead, wearily find Kogandremaaz... and just look. He would threaten to attack back if Odahviing was harmed, but knowing how tired he is from the ambush, how little he suddenly understands about himself, and wanting to avoid even more trouble... he doesn't.]
(He huffs with a ghost of a smile, mumbling a half-hearted scolding in ancient falmeri and hugging his father a bit tighter. Of course she would exhaust herself so deeply simply to revive her brother, who might never have done the same for her. Alduin had always loved his family more than anything, and Kogan fears it will lead him to his demise someday.)
Nid. But it does not surprise me that she did so.
(He watches Odahviing's shame, heart twisting at the sight. It had been thousands of years since they spoke, and though Kogandremaaz is usually very forgiving, his grudges are deeply sewn and are never truly left in the past. Still, he feels some sympathy for the dovah, knowing how it feels to harm someone you care for so deeply. He's in no place to judge, after all; he has hurt Alduin so much more than Odahviing ever could, and did he not still hold love for his father?)
I assume you had a reason for summoning me? Or did you simply wish for me to live through the worst moments of my life once again?
(Though his words are bitter, his tone still holds care and softness, likely due to Alduin's presence.)
// Spoiler CWs at the end of the first post and in tags.
[Odhaviing is just about to fly above Crow’s cabin for a quick check, when his name is shouted. As usual, he pivots where he’s needed, but there is no trepidation in the powerful motions of his wings: it seems like it’s one of the troublemakers, this time, and he’s calling near Solitude. If issues will ensue, they will likely be due to their shared efforts.
The Dovah lands not too far from Dragon Bridge’s namesake, where he easily spots the Dovahkiin he’s looking for: Lurendil is leaning against a tree, mindlessly fidgeting with the bone rings that neatly fit on the folds of his gauntlets, and an expression that spells boredom long before his star-shaped pupils lift to meet his.]
Are you done going around with that Dovah?
Yes, I am.
[The Bosmer shifts his weight back to his feet, and can’t help a small smile as Odahviing fully enters his vision.]
He sure is… unlike any other dragon I’ve met before. I’m glad to be back with you.
You better, Joor, especially after that show with my ancient lunch. What are you planning this time?
[The Mer sighs, crossing his arms while he tilts his head. His voice is heavy with disappointment and confusion.]
Volsung was missing, gone without a trace with his entire court. I don’t want to be slacking off while everyone else is up to something, so I may as well… you know, check on one of the dragon priests nobody claimed.
[The dragon puffs, lowering his eyelids a little.]
Weren’t you the one suggesting everyone goes at least in pairs, at the Dovahkiinneii meeting? I can’t follow you inside the ruins.
I know. I also don’t want to have done nothing, by the time we all have another one.
[Odahviing rolls his eyes. Mortals will never understand how pathetic they can sound, when they’re using their small, fleshy bodies to be stubborn. Opposing their adventurous spirit, whenever they decide they want to do something, is also pointless.]
Are you sure you shouldn’t bring anyone else along?
[Lurendil shakes his head, letting go of his own hands while he steps forward.]
We’ve all been wasting enough time. The World Eater doesn't seem in a rush either, but... I don't want to wait even longer by negotiating who should go with whom.
[The Dovah grumbles, but his neck is already lowering for the other. He also can't wait for Alduin's latest tantrum to be over, so they can end up talking about anything except Dovahkiinne and the worth of mortals during their arguments.]
Good thing you left that... vermin at home, this time.
I don't know why you're so against Krabrenac, they're just a bloodthirsty mudcrab, and you have tough scales...
You tell yourself that about that fiend. Where should we go then? Was Hevnoraak one of the Sonaakke?
Yes, let's check Valthume.
[As the Bosmer finds a comfortable seat between his spikes, Odahviing stretches his wings, and takes flight again, heading south to the old temple.]
// This thread will feature temporary character death and the related grief.
[A degree of agitation courses through Lurendil's veins, while his hands push against the great door, metal finding purchase against the ancient bas-relief. Every Nordic Ruin is unique, but the experience is nearly identical: dust, stale air, rumbling, cold undeath. He knows it won't be the same, yet...
The hinges screech, and the large chamber beyond echoes its cries. Then silence, uninterrupted by his practiced steps. With a low stance and Auriel's bow in hand, he feels nigh-invincible; but something is odd. Missing.
He advances to the short flight of stairs, almost hiding behind one of the symmetrical pillars and brazier holders, where the sarcophagus rests. Holding his breath, he looks up to see if it's still sealed...
It's not. But beyond it... the metallic stench of spilled blood.
He pauses at the top of the stairs, taking cover while he looks forward. He can see the throne, the basins where he had once spilled Hevnoraak's essence to summon and banish him; as many other Dragonborn have done, doubtlessly. It is also not the source of the smell.
One step forward, and he finds it.
A figure... or rather, pieces of a figure leaning on the opposite side of the sarcophagus. Tattered dragon priest robes are poorly draped above a broken torso, separated from its limbs, opened in several spots, most of its blood splattered on the stone below. Were some of the wounds bite marks? The head is... also detached, tossed a little further, battered and with no protection in sight.
The lifeless face doesn't have a mask, but it doesn't take much imagination to guess his target was already gone.
Lurendil takes a breath. The carnage doesn't bother him, he's done worse; but he doesn't understand. Would one of the Dragonborn do this? Was it... someone else? Are they still around?
He nervously moves his free hand to cast Detect Life.
Nothing.
Detect Undead?
...also nothing. Why would there be no undead in a Nordic Ruin...?
More upset by the latest development than by another mysteriously defeated adversary, he straightens, looks around, and just... walks away, leaving everything exactly as he found it.]
[Odahviing waited in the small clearing in front of Valthume, watching for potential threats from the outside, but mostly lazing by as he waited for the Dovahkiin to re-emerge. He trusted him to get the job done quickly, but expected to have enough time to preen his scales a little... Instead, the Bosmer walks out of the doors not even a couple of minutes later, looking as lost as a Dovah recovering from that awful, mortal-shout. Before he can ask anything, the other clarifies:]
...Already butchered. And there are no draugr in there... again.
[The dragon rumbles, tilting his head in confusion.]
"Butchered"?
Yeah... in pieces. Who would do that? And where is everyone else...?
[Odahviing shuffles, and tucks his tail under his talons while he wonders. Thinking about a time so long ago, yet sifting through a not inconsiderable number of years...]
Faaskaalmir, maybe? He sided with the Firstborn, but those two had history... and so did Otar. That's the other Sonaak nobody was after, wasn't he?
[Lurendil hesitates, clearly not knowing what to do with that information. The other huffs, and shuffles closer.]
As for where the draugr would be, without the Sonaak they were devoted to... I have no clue, Dovahkiin.
[The Mer sighs, fastens the bow to his back once more, and walks toward the Dovah while he grumbles.]
Nothing to do, except check that out too... I swear, if the draugr are gone there too...
[Odahviing lets him back again, and prepares to take off.]
Don't you worry, draugr are not difficult to track down. They will be home soon, unless you Dovahkiinne get attached and decide to adopt them too.
[That manages to get a single chuckle out of the other, who pats his scales before holding on. It is an odd scenario... but the Dovahkiinne will figure it out, surely.]
[Ragnvald: another ruin Lurendil hadn't missed, nor thought about in a long time, nor intended to ever enter again; and even more significantly, one whose entrance made so little sense to him. After taking the wrong way twice, however, the idea he would find nothing again has sunk in a rather convincing way: the air is staler, everything seems quiet, but the door in the distance is already open.
As he gets closer, not even bothering to lower his stance, the sarcophagus comes into view. It's open.
Step after step, he notices the skull keys in their place too. The guardians must have been disposed of again. All that's left to see is whether Otar has been dismembered too...
No, there are no scattered chunks of flesh this time. Another robed body without a mask, however, is burnt to a crisp. One could still see the edges of the malachite cover, protecting the head with its enchantments before it was removed.
He lets out a dispassionate sigh. Explaining to the other Dragonborn that one dragon priest is missing, and two others were betrayed by a supposed ally won't exactly make his track record shine... he could just turn away immediately, but it's worth seeing if the killer is still nearby.
Detect Life... nothing.
Detect Undead...
His stomach cramps.
Rushing in from the Crypts and the Canal, is a blur of energy he has never seen the likes of before.
Are all the draugr in the Ruin about to attack at once?!
Immediately letting go of his bravado, he falls back into the shadows, readying to unleash his arrows against the first wave, when suddenly...]
[Waiting again for the Dovahkiin, on the higher, large stone platform between the arches that precede Ragnvald, Odahviing looks around more warily. He hasn't told the mortal, but he saw some odd movement around the rocky formations that surround the ruin: he dismissed that as the wind, animals scurrying away, or bandits at worst... but the longer the odd silence persists, the less sure he is. And the more he remembers.
How could draugr disappear from their former court, if they were not just destroyed? Maybe they were so distraught at the fate of their priest, they left? Or... did someone else try to control them? At least a few arrogant figures of the dragon cult had tried stealing draugr from a different court, and that usually resolved in frenzied and agitated rebels. Would Faaskaalmir know of that, if he was, in fact, responsible for Hevnoraak's third death? Had he lived long enough to see those episodes?
As if on cue, nearly breathless screeches resound behind him. He turns, and is met with... an army?!
Enough draugr to fill half an ancient city are stumbling from the mountains, up the stairs, clanking their axes on their shields and preparing their ice spells. Where did they come from?! How did he mistake them for... anything else?!
Odahviing turns to face them, unfurls his wings, and roars in their direction. He used to be one of their gods, his sight alone should have them cower in fear... but they are, in fact, frenzied.
They lost their priest. They lost their eternal purpose.
As their arrows and projectiles start flying towards him, he has no time to spare any respect.]
[That is Odahviing's voice. Is the dragon in danger?! Never mind the draugr, he must go help him!
Lurendil casts Muffle and Invisibility, then turns on his heels and runs.
Down the stairs, up the stairs, turn around, turn again... thank Y'ffre for his speed! He gains considerable distance from the pursuers, and by the time he is out of the door...]
Odahviing?!
[The scene in front of him is worse than he expected: while many undead are already burned, burning, and falling apart, many more are charging, unleashing arrows and ice darts, and summoning Frost Atronachs.
The Dovah is already bleeding from multiple blows.]
Fus Ro Dah!
[He forcefully creates space in front of the other, already loosing arrows with the speed and accuracy that make him worthy of being called a Jaqspur, targeting other archers and mages as long as the distance allows them to be his main focus. As soon as the dragon behind him wheezes in recognition, he barks the only strategy he can think of:]
More from the door. You. I kill these.
[Odahviing growls in understanding, before he shuffles to the entrance, prepares to burn or chomp on the upcoming adversaries, and lets his posture slump closer to the ground.
Gods... he really is hurt. All Lurendil wants to do is to cast his strongest Restoration spells on the Dovah, but his hands and attention can't waver for a single moment. Why did he really have to come alone with him?! Why did he agree?!
All he can do is prevent him from getting hit even more, and at least the door is a tight space and shouldn't be difficult to deal with...]
[Odahviing is relieved not to have to deal with the worst of the army any more, but...
By Bormah, it hurts. Everything hurts.
The draugr from within the ruin start rushing to the door, and it is not difficult to meet them with a stream of fire and teeth...
Some still manage to hit, still. So do projectiles from behind... past the Bosmer's own shouts, arrows, and slashing swords and spells when they get too close.
...How... humiliating... to be defended by a mortal...
...No... an ally... a friend...
...a... Dovahkiin...?!
While burning blood runs down his scales and his vision blurs at the edges, panic sets in. They are allies, friends... but... they can annihilate each other completely. That's one of the reasons Alduin can't make peace with their existence, isn't it? What if...
The draugr within start retreating, seeing their peers can't breach the Dovah's defence.
Except an overlord with a big, big greatsword... right into his palate, while his teeth bite into their skull.
...He...
He lets out a scream of pain, while his body starts to fail him. He has to... he has to fly away...
[Lurendil is giving his all to keep the draugr away, take down as many as he can as fast as he can. He can face them, but for how mighty dragons are, numbers tend to be a weak spot for them... and this was all a mistake. He was dumb, impatient, and got him in trouble... that's all he can afford to think while the attack continues.
Shoot, shoot, shoot, shout, shoot, stab, slash, shoot, shoot, shout... a quick fire spell for good measure... repeat. He can't afford anything else, despite how handy a couple of atronachs could be. They all keep coming, his Dismay shout didn't work, maybe he can throw in a...
The fine hair on his nape raises when he hears that horrible sound from Odahviing. One he has heard from so many dragons before... but never from a friend.
Cold sweat runs through his body. He knows what comes next. He can't let it happen.]
Wuld Nah Kest!
[He launches himself down the platform, landing straight onto a group of draugr, and once again, he runs. Swords and axes bash into his armour, but he doesn't care, anything to get away from the dragon before his soul...
A larger draugr steps into him at just the right time to make him trip. He's not far enough... No, NO!!
With a scream, he launches at the undead to tear his throat open with his teeth. It's too late. Odahviing is going to be dead. He's going to be dead!! It's all their fault!! It's all his fault!!
With the newfound fury, he slashes madly at everything around him, screeching instead of shouting, twirling instead of slashing... until enough of a clearing is carved, and he can cast Fire Storm too.
When he's done, and those still standing finally retreat, Lurendil collapses to his knees and wheezes. Too drained to heal himself. Too winded to cry. Too horrified to look up at the large skeleton on the platform above.
[Minutes pass, and while Lurendil catches his breath... nothing happens.
The booming noise? The whirling in his head? The strange lights raising from the remains, and seeping into his bones with ancient knowledge?
It doesn't happen.
The Bosmer heaves as he stands on shaking legs, and he slowly, carefully climbs the stairs. Ready to flee if that were to change. Ready to...
Odahviing lays motionless in front of the door, bloody, broken, with nothing in his eyes and vapour on his scales, as his hot remains turn cold. That's... that's a dead creature. No doubt about it, but... he can't really be dead, can he?! He would... his soul would be leaving now, wouldn't it? That's not possible! That's the first thing he learnt about being Dragonborn, a Dragonborn absorbs dragon souls!
The Bormer stumbles, and doesn't bother getting up; he crawls to the corpse instead. He unfastens and throws his gauntlets aside, and grabs his horns as tightly as he can, pulling himself closer to the head that's so still...]
Odahviing?! Please, say something!
[Nothing. He's dead but he's not. What... what can he do?! He forces what little magicka he has recovered into a healing spell... nothing changes.]
Please...
[His hands slide down to the dragon's cheeks, and he holds on his skull as if that's going to bring him back. It won't.]
...
[So many ideas whirl in his head. Most of them awful and useless. He doesn't know what to do. Doesn't know how to fix this. Doesn't know if this can even be fixed.
...Until he remembers someone who, maybe, can.
With a few deep breaths, he lifts his head just enough to shout, and calls the only one who can bring his friend back.]
(Alduin had gone through his day in unsettling silence, haunted by a tension that clung to her like static, an unfamiliar sense of dread following her like a shadow. He knew not what was causing it, but was certain that the threat was far from him. Still, the anxiety persisted and built with every moment.)
(It wasn't until a distinct shift quaked in her chest, leaving a sudden emptiness in a space that once held her end of a torn connection, that he realised his soul had been trying to warn her of something dire, something he could have prevented, a loss that would plague the depths of his heart. He was no stranger to grief, but this... This was incapacitating. It seemed to scrape at his hollow insides, shoveling any remnants of hope and peace from him like flesh from a gourd, and she did not even know what she had lost.)
(Then he heard his name, distinctly called from the mortal plane. It was terrified, distant, yet clear in each syllable, shouted in the voice of that one dovahkiin... Lurendil, his name was. Alduin remembered him, was fond of him even, but did not know why he would call upon her so soon. As his focus drifted to the scene around Lurendil in search of context, he felt a wisp of dragonic energy near the dragonborn, the remnants of a fallen brother; a powerful one, too. He did not have to wonder who it was. He knew that soul, had seen it before it had a body to inhabit. Yet it took him a moment to process the fact that that body was even capable of death.)
(Finally, the realisation of what he has lost grasped at his wings and forced them into frenzied flight towards the summons. She prayed from her sunken heart that she was wrong; "please, father, if ever you have cared for the life you created, let me be wrong. Let Odahviing be alive and well, even if it means I must suffer for it." All that he could think of was the deep rooted terror she felt at the idea of losing her brother just after she had found him, and the desperation for just a bit more time, for just one more happy memory of him.)
(She had to be wrong. He couldn't stand the thought of being right.)
(But there, outlined by drab stonework that insulted his radiant crimson scales, she saw him, bloodied and broken. A being with an inner world so vibrant and full, so considerate and courageous, laid motionless upon the carvings of mortals. His friend who had grown to loathe him, who had seen him through the worst of times, who she had sung to on stormy nights and held closer than any other. The dovah that he had taken under his wing after Akatosh's betrayal and vowed to protect for all of time was dead.)
(Her conscience didn't consider or register the dovahkiin beside the body, the way the dovah's form remained intact when it should've been sucked into the bosmer's. She only processed the smell of her kin's blood, the sight of his lifeless eyes, the stillness of his scales, and the way the colour seemed to drain for the world in his mourning.)
(Alduin's form moved without thought or sense beyond the ringing in his ears and the ache in his chest as he pulled Odahviing's body into her wings, tucked him under her snout and stared into empty space. A faint and high pitched whine rang from her throat, a quiet yet harsh cry for her fallen kin that seemed to cut through the whispering wind for all that would hear his grief.)
(He was supposed to stay with his brothers, to protect them as Akatosh never had, to ensure that they lived with joy and freedom and power, and she had failed. She had allowed them to grow distant from her, to stray from her protection, and now her brother was dead because of it, because even after all that she sacrificed for him, she still hadn't done enough to keep him alive. He didn't care how it had happened; he knew that, at the root of things, he was at fault. That was enough to send him into a pit of grief, of guilt, for truly, he was just as cruel and abusive and selfish as his father, and now Odahviing was dead because of him.)
[Lurendil's breath shook after the shout, and drifted into shallow, pained gasps, too dry and quiet to be sobs. Would the World Eater even respond, to one of the fated foes who had already defeated him? One of those trying to banish her back into timeless silence? Had anyone suggested he would ever call for Alduin's help, just a few months back, he would have deemed it insanity... yet there he was, shaking fingers stained with despair, hoping for a miracle to turn ashes into flames.
She wouldn't come. Nobody could undo his mistakes. He deserved pain and grief and unchanging judgement for causing his friend's death.
He closed his eyes, and let his head slide against the cooling scales until his antlers scraped against the motionless horn. It was unbearable. Dov were not supposed to die, to keep being so recognizable when their essence was gone, to be... the closest thing he had left to elder family members, and be gone too, to leave him alone again. He had never recognised Akatosh's mercy in the destruction of a dragon's form, after their ultimate defeat. He never... he never wanted to see it again. Not with Odahviing. Not with any Dovah.
The winds turned, carrying a presence he was supposed to fear and loathe. Lurendil's body flinched on its own accord, a reflex to defend a finite creature from something so imposing and powerful, but a timid pang of hope clutched his chest as he fell back on his heels...
A flame that was snuffed, by a display of sorrow so abysmal, it could shake the entirety of the Aurbis and shatter time itself.
It was real. It was all real...
He shut his eyes again, and tears finally flowed through his shaking lashes, while his bloodied hands clutched the hair at the base of his antlers. He was ready to scream, to beg, to do anything as long as Odahviing could fly again... but for a long while, he did nothing.
He knew nothing. He didn't deserve to intrude on Alduin's grief, not after what he had done. He deserved nothing but to suffer and wander aimlessly, alone and formless.]
(The wind continued as the only sound for several beats. Alduin merely stayed with his brother, moments flashing in front of him. She had always tried to cling to the memories of shielding him from the rain, of granting him power immeasurable and seeing how he basked in it. But now he was seeing the painful moments she brought him, the arguments, the demands, the torment they reigned on mortals; a battle that he had been dragged into when it was born of Alduin's grudges, not his. And when Odahviing had expressed his shame for that torment, Alduin had only made it worse in his attempts to lift the guilt from his own shoulders.)
(She had been a terrible caretaker, hadn't she? Berating, unpredictable, emotional, selfish. He had always been aware of it, but only now did he realise how deeply he was to blame for it all.)
(Odahviing left because Alduin was making him miserable. There was no one else to blame for that, and now one of her closest friends was lost, a soulless corpse bled out on the stone. All because of a war she started with the claim that it was for her family, for beings like him.)
(Time had become immeasurable by the time he spoke through her guilt and grief, low and hoarse, body unmoving.)
[Lurendil's hands had fallen back to his greaves, to pool with the silent tears that broke free from his shut eyelids. His own whirlpool of regret rung in his ears, until the question he had ignored is spoken. This... this all was not about himself, but... he somewhat understands. He had tried to flee, not to face that possibility, but there was no guarantee the respite from his nature would last.
At the same time, that meant Odahviing's soul was still there, somewhere, untouched. The overwhelming grasp in his gut loosened, even if just barely.
He took a deep breath, and broke his stiffened lashes apart to look upon Alduin.]
...I don't know. I didn't... want to... but I never chose to do it...
[His voice shook. That sounded like an excuse... but it wasn't. The rush from a slain Dovah's soul was exhilarating, and served his drive for power well... the first times. He hadn't needed it any more, after his own fated battle; but the ambushes had never stopped, and neither had the grasping of ancient souls. Or more precisely... he hadn't felled a Dovah in a while, but surely...
He shook his head. He didn't want to think about it, all he wanted was...]
...Please... bring him back. He doesn't deserve... this... I will... stop fighting if... if that's what you want... for him to live...
[But beyond the grief, the terror, the anger, the uncertainty, the unwavering Thu'um... unbeknownst to the Bosmer himself, Lurendil's soul bore a golden mark in the shape of a dragon's soul, but the brilliance had faded. What was once a blessed creation, had become nothing more than a mortal with a temporary gift.]
(He had been too busy grieving to consider reviving Odahviing earlier, but now that Lurendil had mentioned it, the idea refused to leave his mind. It would take a great deal of strength, perhaps even permanently weakening her, but would she really prefer to let him die? It was no lie, after all, that her priority had always been the dov, her family, even if it didn't always show. He could not stand idly by while they faced such pain; he never had, and he never would, no matter what it cost him.)
You do not need to beg me to revive my own family, dovahkiin. Rok fent lahney.
(The whiplash of returning a soul to its body so soon after one's death would be difficult to quell, but it was possible to ease, if the one reviving them had the skill and strength. The effort of doing so would take a lot out of her, and while she's in that weakened state, Odahviing could very well take the opportunity to kill him and end the war with a single strike. It would be simple, easy, and well within his rights. Alduin recognises this, and he knows that it would be wiser and easier to leave Odahviing to die, but his mind is made up. She would die a thousand deaths before allowing one of her brothers to die in front of her, especially one she loves as much as Odahviing.)
Slen Tiid Vo.
(As her shout blankets Odahviing, the energy seeps from her body and pushes it to collapse. She concentrates all of the power left in her on ensuring that the shout works as it's meant to. Alduin guides Odahviing's soul back to his body, still held against him, and finds himself praying to his father again. Never in her life had she cared about her father's influence as much as she does today. Silently, he begs, "even if I must die painfully, please, let him live," for no fate would be as painful as the knowledge that his actions had brought Odahviing to his death.)
[For a long while, for a few moments, for a speck in the currents and infinite ripples, it was nothing but a breeze, aimless and free and full and empty. It was always. It was never. It was someone. It was nobody at all.
Then, it remembered. It had a home. It had a purpose. At some level... it mattered, and golden threads of swirling essence surrounded it, beckoning it as they commanded it to follow. There was no ambiguity in the herald's will, but it knew all it had to do was to be carried, a plume of smoke in the breeze.
Backward and backward, it flowed to the source, and started recognizing himself.]
[Consciousness stirs behind Odahviing's eyes, while the chill that had seeped into his bones is vaporized by the fire beneath his scales. With a jerk and a breath, the stench of blood and charred undeath bids him welcome, and so does the metallic tang of rust and steel in his mouth. He sees black, his wings cannot unfurl... what happened?
Somewhere nearby, is a familiar presence he cannot pin down yet, small and impermanent yet fearsome; he knows he cares for it, like all of those whose nature is similar, yet a hint of terror in their regard still echoes in his mind. And above, someone so powerful, so unending...
The Dovah tries to free himself, screeches, and trashes in recognition. Alduin is on him, when he's weak, scared, and no longer obeying her. A Dovahkiin, the fated opponent, is nearby. Did the World Eater attack them? Is he trying to kill them both? Is she trying to feed his soul to his own ally, to prove some sort of point? Why would his big brother do this? How could she?!
Odahviing roars and chomps down wherever he can, hoping that's enough to make Alduin hesitate, stagger, get away... anything, so both of them can flee, so the Dragonborn can use their terrible shout and save them... but when a mortal's voice comes through, it's not for a fight.]
Odhaviing! Drem! Faasnu los, Nid Tahrovin til los...
[Hands coated in a weak restorative spell find one of his legs, and while his bite loosens, he still shakes. He doesn't understand...]
(Alduin's world is turns to static in her fatigue, all sounds strainfed and muffled yet overwhelmingly clear, her vision spinning with dazzling shows of colour, and her muscles made of sugar melting under the blaze of her desperation.)
(Though the crushing weight of Alduin's exhaustion remains present, it becomes inconsequential as he registers the fact that Odahviing is alive, and is replaced by a cleansing relief that settles his aching wings. He silently thanks his father the divines a million times over, her affection refusing to waver even with the accompaniment of her brother's deafening roars and violent thrashing. Alduin does nothing to fight Odahviing off as she slips in and out of sleep, even as her scales split and bleed beneath the the force of his maw, even though he can feel the hatred seeping from the younger dovah's bones.)
(Through it all, he remains quiet, save for a low rumble of endearment deep in his chest. All he cares about right now is the fact that his little brother is alive again, and he is too weak to worry about anything else, anyways. He decides he is fine with that. She's just glad she got to see him again.)
[Odahviing lets go of the oldest Dovah, while his breath rushes and his scales vibrate with her low rumble, one he knows so well and missed so much. Why does it all have to be like this? Why does she have to ruin everything? Why can't he make peace with what is over, and stop yearning for what was never meant to be?
The mortal hands on his leg, cold and frail with exhaustion, regain a name and a history. With a glance, he remembers that Dovahkiin, from the first sharp-toothed grin of a captor, to the frenzied Thu'um of a dear ally failing to protect him. He... he thought he was about to be gone, forever removed from the Aurbis, turned into a mindless echo of knowledge and power somewhere in Lurendil's soul... Dovahkiinne usually don't know how to prevent their hunger from consuming their kin... yet, he is still here. Alduin brought him back.
How? Did the Bosmer call his fated enemy for him...? Was a bargain made? Did the mortal give up his power to save him? No, it can't be... the World Eater lies weakened, barely there. She did it all on her own and is paying the price. Why? How is he supposed to win the war he started, if he cannot fight on?
His fear and anger turn to pain, and a wail echoes in his throat while his snout finds the bleeding tears he's caused and presses on them. She is still a sworn adversary... but she's also his sister, still. He doesn't want him to suffer, especially after what he's just done. If the Dovahkiin were to order him to finish the job now... how could he do it?]
[But Lurendil is uninterested in war tactics. He moves off from Odahviing's leg to rest against his side, while his own terror and grief melt into a blend of incomprehensible agitation, gratitude, and guilt; he can only keep the turmoil at bay by pushing his arms against the dragon, in an uneffective but desperate hug, away from Alduin's maw.]
[The mortal is spent. Odahviing is still adjusting. Alduin is... not doing good, now. If she helped him... despite everything... it's only fair he tries to do the same.]
(Kogandremaaz, mildly hungover and eating spicy dill pickles, recognises the voice that calls him. A voice he particularly dislikes, both for personal history and for the insults his father has withstood from its maw. The amount of times he has shared genuine praises for Alduin's character when she's feeling unwell, only to be met with denial because Odahviing said otherwise. How deeply that dovah's resentment for his father has leeched into his mind, replacing all pride and contentment with shame and unhappiness with a simple few words spoken without regret. Does he even know how deeply Alduin values his opinion? How much she beats himself up over his offhand comments?)
(But there was an urgency in Odahviing's shout that could not be ignored, and Kogandremaaz knew that he would not be called upon unless the situation was desperate. And of course, there was that feeling of dread that had been settling in Kogan's stomach, and he no longer felt that the alcohol was to blame.)
(His spectre appears, appearing reluctant for a moment until he recognises the scent of blood, of gore that he had only smelled once in his life thousands of years ago, yet he recognises it instantly. He sees the form of his father, bloodied and broken, laying tiredly in the dust, and horror settles deep in his gut. It was all too similar to how he had been after hours of gruesome battle and years of bitter war, before his son had buried his sword to its hilt in his skull. He remembers her final words in clarity; how she asked him not to dwell on her loss, insisted with her full heart that she had never hated him, that she had remained proud of him in all his defiance and treachery, even after he had taken away everything that she held dear.)
(Through grief and terror, he runs to Alduin, kneels and holds her jaw as if trying to keep her life force contained within her body, chest heaving with panic. He knows that he won't die, yet still, the fear of what could happen to him now consumes Kogan. With a shaking voice, he soothes Alduin in dovahzul.)
Drem, bormah. Zu'u het. Su'um; zu'u fent pruzah, vaat.
(With a low purring whine, his father leans into his arms before allowing his trembling form to go limp again. After a heaving sigh of relief, Kogandremaaz turns to Odahviing as rage brews where his panic had settled. He hisses in accusation, assuming the worst in place of the context he's missing.)
Was it really not enough for you to rip up his soul every time you two spoke? You had to go and tear apart his body as well? You are lucky that he cares for you, or I would strike you down where you stand for daring to harm him.
“Not any longer really, for both of those implications. Perhaps back in the day once could say I was highly revered but it isn’t the case any longer-and truthfully a part of me prefers it that way right now.”
Since you are so mad at me I suppose I will have to return to my mother and father. Who are both considered royalty in one way or another so it would make no sense for me to be a jester by the way.
Ohhh vomindok. I just thought that you would come up with a better backstory for me in this hypothetical fairytale universe than me being a FUCKING JESTER
“Not any longer really, for both of those implications. Perhaps back in the day once could say I was highly revered but it isn’t the case any longer-and truthfully a part of me prefers it that way right now.”
Since you are so mad at me I suppose I will have to return to my mother and father. Who are both considered royalty in one way or another so it would make no sense for me to be a jester by the way.
Ohhh vomindok. I just thought that you would come up with a better backstory for me in this hypothetical fairytale universe than me being a FUCKING JESTER
“Not any longer really, for both of those implications. Perhaps back in the day once could say I was highly revered but it isn’t the case any longer-and truthfully a part of me prefers it that way right now.”
Since you are so mad at me I suppose I will have to return to my mother and father. Who are both considered royalty in one way or another so it would make no sense for me to be a jester by the way.
Ohhh vomindok. I just thought that you would come up with a better backstory for me in this hypothetical fairytale universe than me being a FUCKING JESTER
