Game Changer & Make Some Noise
Sweet Seals For You, Always
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
roma★
sheepfilms
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Misplaced Lens Cap
One Nice Bug Per Day
Xuebing Du
izzy's playlists!
The Bowery Presents
Noah Kahan
taylor price
Jar Jar Binks Fan Club
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
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Interview Vampire Daily
shark vs the universe
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
seen from United States
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@kohledtouch-archive-blog
ESTABLISHED A LONG TIME AGO RE-ESTABLISHED JULY 2019 multi-fandom, multi-muse Avalynn & Ayalea Mun...
Ayalea is now over here ^! It’s been converted to a multi-muse blog, and Ayalea will only be available on that one with Avalynn. This blog will no longer be available for interaction!
ESTABLISHED A LONG TIME AGO RE-ESTABLISHED JULY 2019 multi-fandom, multi-muse Avalynn & Ayalea Mun...
Ayalea is now over here ^! It’s been converted to a multi-muse blog, and Ayalea will only be available on that one with Avalynn. This blog will no longer be available for interaction!
The Restricted Section ||Closed with prismbursts||
@prismbursts
“Now’s the perfect time,” Ayalea whispered to her dorm mate. “Everyone’s asleep.”
She pulled the hood of her cloak over her head, hiding her stark white hair. It was an identifying factor during the day and would practically glow at night, giving away their position should someone stumble upon the two girls. After tucking her wand into her pocket, Ayalea placed her hands on her hips and gave a satisfied huff.
A grin, not quite evil but most certainly devious, crawled across her face. Breaking into forbidden rooms and areas in her family manor was exciting, but there was little repercussions when she was caught. Breaking into anything at Hogwarts would most certainly have consequences, and that made this endeavor much more thrilling.
“This will be fun!”
What’s the Dragon Word for Shitfaced? ||Closed with finsaraan||
finsaraan:
“No rules, only common sense,” he remarked as he took it from her, unstoppered it, and sniffed. He couldn’t place it at all. “The only time I ever saw poison actually work it was not even real poison, only an emetic. I imagine they did not expect to succeed when they did it.”
It would be tragic to die here from poison, of all things, but the thought didn’t really pass his mind with any real impact. He just… trusted her. In part because he felt that a Dragonborn was not the creature to sink to such base means. He was always aware that the most charming, trustworthy, honourable-seeming person could theoretically be a liar and a cutthroat waiting for the opportunity - but that way madness lay, and he had heard of what became of those who saw evil in every smile.
So he slackened the mask straps, pushed it up enough to free his mouth, and sipped at the bottle, more cautious of the taste than of what was within. Bearing in mind, he had not eaten or drunk anything since he came to Apocrypha - and it caught in his throat immediately. He just tried not to cough his lungs up.
“Not terrible,” he wheezed, and… found that he was laughing.
It didn’t cross her mind that he would even consider the possibility of her poisoning him. He didn’t say so, but the mere mention of it meant the thought flitted through his head, she thought. She pursed her lips, the corners down-turned slightly as she took a bit of offense to the idea. She wasn’t above poisoning someone... in fact she had in the past, but she wouldn’t do it to the person she was desperate to learn from.
Ayalea relaxed into a smile when he moved his mask and took a drink, apparently deciding she wasn’t trying to poison him. Her smile widened and she bit back a laugh at his reaction to the drink, the amusement overtaking the disappointment she felt at him not removing his mask completely.
The sound of his laugh was startling, and her smile fell to a look of shock. She’d never heard him laugh, truly laugh. There had been a few chuckles here and there, but those were nothing compared to this.
“I feel I should be scared to ask,” she began, “but what is so funny?”
What’s the Dragon Word for Shitfaced? ||Closed with finsaraan||
finsaraan:
Bemused, and very slightly flattered (albeit in a strange way), he made a consenting gesture and summoned, with the orange glow of telekinesis, a stack of books to prop her leg up while he mended it. The word ‘booze’ was not one he recognised, but he thought he could infer it from the bottles and her talk. There were plenty of mixes, alchemical and herbal, that he had known and used - alcohol, on the other hand, was either the weak stuff of everyday banality or the strong kind that made for wild revelry and new blood feuds. He would never have thought to call it relaxing.
“This strikes me as something you should be learning to do,” he noted idly as he drew her flesh back to where it belonged, smoothing the skin where it tried to scar “I do not often find myself looking back on time spent sitting idly and thinking how glad I am for it. If you have this much free time as Dragonborn perhaps your enemies need to start working a little harder.“
She approached him, smiling slightly that he made no argument against helping her. Kicking her leg up, she plopped it onto the stack of books and waited for him to set to work; she thought to herself that she should’ve been keeping track of the number of times Miraak had to heal her... it was probably better that they didn’t know.
The warmth that always came with his healing magic flowed into her leg and spread through her body, weakening the further away from her wound it went.
“I don’t think magic and I would get along,” she remarked. “And if I knew how to heal myself, what use would you be to me?” she added with a smirk.
Given the abilities of magic could lead Ayalea into a world of trouble far greater than the one she already managed to put herself into.
“There’s always time to relax if you know where to look,” she teased. “And the only enemies I have are the guards... and dragons, I suppose.”
When he finished, she gave her a leg a once over before pulling the torn pant leg in place. She sauntered over to her wagon and pulled up between herself and Miraak. Grabbing one of the bottles of a lighter drink, she handed it out toward Miraak.
“I’m sure you priests had rules about denying an offered drink,” she said, shaking it gently as if to taunt him. “It’s practically an assassination attempt among nobility.”
Silver Blood ||Closed with moon-lit-heroine||
moon-lit-heroine:
Sorcha had tracked down the encampment and had stalked them for some time now. She waited until they’d settled down and put their weapons away. A coward she was not, but fighting and dispatching these heathens was easier done this way. She didn’t want an absolute bloodbath, just to subdue them and take them out of this world as cleanly as possible. She figured arrows were the best way to go for the moment. Seven Silver hand, eight arrows left. She could do this if her aim was strong and true.
Notching her arrow, she took aim and pulled the string back quietly and slowly. As she lined up the shot, she let the arrow go with the tell-tale thwang of a released bowstring. The arrow burrowed between the eyes of one of the Silverhand. As the others realized what happened, they stood and began to scatter, looking for the culprit. She pulled another arrow from her quiver and let fly, pinning one woman to the tree behind her and killing her instantly.
That smell… there was a vampire nearby. Shit. Sorcha put her bow back on her back as she stealthily climbed higher in the tree to camouflage herself. Perhaps the vampire would smell blood, come running, and they’d take care of it for her. Then she could finish her job. Maybe.
Ayalea continued down the changed path and drew closer to the group of Silver Hand and the werewolf. The scent of freshly spilled blood reached her before the sounds of shouts and shuffling. It wasn’t the werewolf’s blood, that much was obvious; werewolves’ blood held a particular note of foulness that kept vampires from wanting to snack on them.
She was close now to the site of attack; one of the Silver Hand was pinned to a tree, bleeding profusely onto the dirt at their feet. Another was dead on the ground, an arrow protruding from their face. The rest were skittering around, seemingly clueless as to where their attacker was. The smell of a fresh turning hadn’t lingered, so Ayalea figured the werewolf to still be in human form. That was good. A turned werewolf tended to be more unpredictable, though it made for a fun fight.
As she watched the bastards panic, Ayalea debated. Should she join the fight? Should she simply watch? Would the werewolf react to her presence? If the werewolf was worth its fur, it would know she was nearby...
Ayalea decided Fuck it. She lunged forward, moving faster than the human eye could see, and grabbed the nearest Silver Hand. Her elongated, sharp nails tore into their throat before they had a chance to scream. She tossed their body aside and licked the blood on her palm before rushing toward her next victim.
Taking a less surprising approach, she stopped in front of them, giving them a chance to register just how much danger they were in. They let out a shout, alerting the others, likely assuming Ayalea had been the one with the bow.
While she dodged the Silver Hand’s attacks, she grabbed either side of their head and gave a hard yank. A sickening crack echoed against the trees that surrounded them, and it was incredibly satisfying to the slightly sadistic vampire.
“Would you like to join the fun?” she called out to wherever the werewolf was.
What’s the Dragon Word for Shitfaced? ||Closed with finsaraan||
finsaraan:
He looked up from his place sitting cross-legged atop one of Apocrypha’s stone altars (not comfortable in the slightest, but what was, in this realm?), the book in his hand forgotten the moment he felt the disturbance of a Black Book working, his curiosity peaked. When the mass of tendrils and rippling tear in the fabric of space and time deposited a familiar figure sitting in a cart and surrounded with jars, he just about dropped the book. What?
What?
He just watched as she went flying. When she survived the impact, he slowly swung his legs down, hovering on the altar’s edge uncertainly.
“This is a first.” he cocked his head a fraction, eyes narrowed “To what do I owe…. it?”
A woman - friend, even? - in a cart filled with jugs could hardly be bad news, could it? He still had the instinctual caution of a wildcat. And a healthy dose of paranoia.
Ayalea picked herself up and bent over to examine her leg. The cut wasn’t too deep, but it was going to hurt once the numbness dissipated. She straightened and stretched her limbs as her eyes fell on her mentor.
“Hello, Miraak,” she said, dusting herself off.
She glanced down at the wagon, still shocked she managed to bring it into Oblivion. With a chuckle, she grabbed the handle and approached the alter Miraak sat on.
“I figured we’ve been training rather hard for a while,” she began. “It’d be nice to just... not. When was the last time you just relaxed?”
While balancing on her uninjured leg, she stuck the other out and wiggled it gently toward Miraak. The sharp pain was setting in, and it was still bleeding enough to trail down her leg, leaving blood footprints behind her.
“Could you work your magic on this?” she asked. “And then we can delve into the booze, and maybe you’ll unwind a bit. I had some of this made special with you in mind.”
leviathanwielded:
Curiously, she leaned forward to have a good look at the wand. “It’s very pretty!” Now, however, she got to show off her own! Excitdely, she pulled out hers. Quite a long wand – though she was a tall girl herself. “Mine is vine – and phoenix feathers too!” How exciting! A wand destined for greatness, one could say! More impressive than her father’s elm and unicorn wand at least.
A part of her felt mildly upset, though, to hear that she was not the only one with phoenix feathers incorporated into the core of her wand. Who knows. Maybe they would end up getting along regardless. “Ollivander also said that it’s absolutely unyielding.” Though she was not sure how to interpret that. Again, she only had the supple wand of her father to go by.
“I really cannot wait to use it! Have you had a look around the castle grounds already? I heard there’s merfolk living in the lake!”
“Thank you!” Ayalea replied, smiling in earnest.
Ayalea placed her wand on the bed and went on to unload more of her belongings while Ignes pulled out her own wand.
It was interesting that they both had phoenix feather wands considering it was the rarest core used by Ollivander. Wands with phoenix cores were known to have minds of their own, and this had been part of Ollivander’s warning--well, warning wasn’t the correct term, but he made sure she was aware. She had no idea what the meant though; would the wand just fire off its own spells? take itself out of her pocket?
“Unyielding?” she repeated. She had no idea what that meant.
“I haven’t had the chance yet,” she said. “Merfolk? Do you think we’d be able to see them? I wonder what other secrets the castle has!”
Was this girl a troublemaker like Ayalea? That could be fun...
leviathanwielded:
“Yes. I just got here today! What are you most excited about learning? I think everything will be awesome. I will learn so much!” And she was determined to be the best in her year - for a few moments, the hat might have hesitated before declaring her a Slytherin. As far as she knew, she was certainly not the first one - and even if not, others in her family had belonged to other houses as well. Still.. hopefully, she would bring them pride here.
“What kind of wand do you have?” Curiously, she tilted her head, sitting on the edge of the bed by the window. The green of the sea outside the thick glass… was oddly soothing. She liked this room.
Ayalea wished the girl well... or at least, that was her immediate thought, her mother’s teachings on manners coming to mind, but she didn’t say it out loud.
“I can’t wait to learn charms,” Ayalea replied.
There were things she saw her parents do with magic that intrigued Ayalea, and she couldn’t wait to try it herself. Her family showed her all sorts of spells, and it killed her she couldn’t do them herself yet. At the very least, she was excited to have been placed in Slytherin, like most of the rest of her family. Cunning and ambitious. She hoped to live up to the expectations.
Ayalea pulled her wand out of her trunk pocket and held it out for Ignes to see.
“It’s pine with a phoenix feather core,” she explained.
Finding her wand was the most exciting part of shopping for school supplies. When one of Ollivander’s wands chose her, it filled her body with a comforting warm feeling and produced a faint dark aura around itself. She couldn’t wait to actually use it.
“What kind chose you?” she asked, wishing she knew more about wands. The wand type could give hints to one’s personality, and that seemed like something her mother would say is important to know.
What’s the Dragon Word for Shitfaced? ||Closed with finsaraan||
@finsaraan
"Do you have anything that won’t immediately knock someone on their ass?” Ayalea asked.
Geldis raised an already arched eyebrow. “You’ve never had an issue handling your drink, Ayalea,” he responded.
“Not for me. It’s been a while since my, uh, friend has drank,” she explained. “I have to ease him into it. There’s no reason to cause alcohol poisoning on the first drink.”
Ayalea was guessing, of course. She had no idea if Miraak even ate, let alone drank. Did he even drink in his mortal life? He never spoke much of his time before being trapped in Apocrypha, unless he was bragging about how powerful a man he was.
The barkeep nodded and wagged his finger. “I got just the thing,” he assured.
After pulling a few bottles from under the bar and mixing them, Geldis placed an ornate mug down in front of Ayalea.
“Here,” he said, pushing it her way. “Take a swig.”
She did as she was told and gave him an appreciative nod.
“He should be able to handle this,” she replied. “Can you give me, uh, I’m not even sure how many... you know what?”
She pulled the wagon she had snuck into the tavern to the open side of the bar counter.
“Just fill this up,” Ayalea told him, tapping it with her foot. “Half with what’s basically flavored water, and the other half with what you gave me last weekend. It went down easy and didn’t dry my coinpurse.”
“Never knew you to have friends,” he remarked, chuckling as he set to mixing the wagon’s worth of drinks Ayalea ordered. “You know, I have to charge extra for the labor.”
Ayalea rolled her eyes, making small talk with the Dunmer as he worked to fulfill her order. Once he finished, she dropped a pile of coins into his hand, the gold spilling out onto the counter. She headed out of Raven Rock and made her way to the hovel she called home, for the time being at least.
Going around the small house, Ayalea ensured each window was closed and covered before heading into her room. How she’d manage this, she wasn’t sure, but she was determined to try and get Miraak to have a bit of fun, lighten up a bit.
After pulling the Black Book from her bookshelf, Ayalea circled the wagon a few times before deciding to just get in with the drinks. She tucked her feet between a couple of the jugs and took a deep breath; this next part was always unpleasant.
She opened the Black Book and cringed as the tentacles burst from the pages, wrapping around her arms, legs, waist, every inch of her body. As she was hurled out of Tamriel and thrown into Oblivion, the numbness that always accompanied the trip filled her limbs, and the heavy nausea set in.
When she landed, she flew forward, kicking one of the jugs and breaking it, and fell on the stone ground. Her leg dragged on the broken ceramic, slicing through her leggings and breaking the skin. Blood stained the fabric, but she ignored it and the pain, instead focusing on the wagon and the surviving drinks.
She may have gotten hurt, but she was satisfied that overall, her plan worked, and she was going to get drunk in Oblivion.
finsaraan:
“I will not force the meditation on you,” he gave a short chuckle “But for the moment, perhaps just a break. Take deep breaths. Give your soul a moment to compose.”
He motioned to one of the old stone altars that littered Apocrypha, the only thing that could really pass for a seat here, and perched on the edge of it himself, thinking on her words a moment.
“The first Shout I ever used was Storm Call. It was horrifically beyond me; I shattered a pillar, collapsed half my room on top of myself, broke my collar bone and almost lost an arm. You would not think I had been so inept to see me Shout now, of course, but when I was fumbling near every attempt I was also wrestling with my own impatience every day, and only by lucky fluke I did not kill myself the times I lost. But I did hurt myself each time. Restoration can do a lot, no one can deny, but there is always the chance that it will not do enough, and at best, you will never be the same as you were.”
He remembered the first time he had met a man with only one leg. Before then, he had always thought that Restoration could do anything, if one were only skilled enough. It was Torsten who had shown him that nothing could reattach a lost limb. It had always been in his mind, after that; what parts of him he couldn’t heal, what it would be like to loose a part of himself, and how easily he could do it, with only his Voice.
“Take a moment. No need to sit around and think about breathing for hours - just listen to your body, and heed its warnings.”
She heeded his words, taking a few deep breaths and letting the sensation fill her chest and spread to her limbs. After a groan-inducing stretch, she settled on the ground in front of Miraak, listening to him share his story.
At the mention of his amazing ability to Shout and how it must be so hard to imagine him struggling at any point, she rolled her eyes and let her upper body fall to the ground. Now lying in front of him, she closed her eyes, suddenly feeling exhausted from the exertion in her training.
As her mentor continued speaking, Ayalea tucked her hands under her head and let herself drift off.
championofstendarr:
The Vigilant narrowed her eyes as she took a few steps closer. “Few things are more despicable than tomb robbers,” she spat out, hand still on her sword. The Vigilants had been her whole life, ever since her face had been scarred those years ago. Damned if she’d let it’s honor be sullied.
“Regardless of how you feel, this is a place for the dead. Vigilants died protecting this place, to protect all who live in fear of the night,” Beatrice chided, trying to inspect Ayalea closer. “The common man is a good one, living a virtuous life free of sin. But even in a land such as Skyrim, what can the common man do against the night itself? When Aetherius no longer shines on the world…”
She would take revenge for those who had died here, make no mistake.
“The Vigilants in Skyrim is but a shadow of the might in Kvatch. Rest assured, once this situation with these vampires are dealt with the rebuilding will return: and the Vigilants will not be as soft as before,” Beatrice went on, beginning to smirk. “Perhaps we’ll finally bring the brazen bulls here: now that will be a message to the vampires,” she seemed rather… enthusiastic about the idea, truth be told. “Understand, graverobber? This was… an accident, really. It won’t happen again. I’ll personally see to it.”
“‘Living a virtuous life free of sin...’” she repeated. “I’ve never met a true innocent. Even children do shitty, sinful things.”
This woman most definitely had the mentality of a Vigilant. That obnoxious arrogance. The idea that one could live without sin. The ‘holier than thou’ mindset. Just all of it. Even if she wasn’t a vampire, Ayalea would find the Vigilants a joke.
“Call it what you like,” Ayalea said, “but your people were targeted, and only a fool would believe this could have been prevented. Vigilants attacking anyone they deem evil and expecting little retaliation? Thinking they were safe in their hovel? Their arrogance and general asshole-ishness killed them.”
She tilted her head in amusement. Skyrim was crawling with vampires and werewolves and other supernatural beings; no one woman could stop them from attacking an organization dedicated to eradicating them. Oh, but they had a divine on their side... bull shit.
“Before you continue on preaching,” Ayalea began, taking a few steps toward the entrance, “you might want to leave.”
The wind carried an ashy, metallic scent, pulling Ayalea’s attention from the woman. A group of vampires were making their way to the hall, but she obviously couldn’t tell this Beatrice; it’d turn into a game of twenty questions. How do you know? Are you working with them? Are you one of them? Are you-are you-are you...
“I’m sure the vampires that attacked will return,” she warned. “They were organized enough to demolish this place. They’re likely smart enough to know other Vigilants will come digging through the ruins. And however strong you think you are, you’ll be overwhelmed.”
Why she bothered trying to give this woman a chance to run, she didn’t know. Maybe it was because she didn’t instantly attack, despite having decent reason to.
Silver Blood ||Closed with moon-lit-heroine||
@moon-lit-heroine
They’d been hunting her for a few days, not that she was trying that hard to hide. She left them little hints, inklings of where she’d been; just enough that a decent tracker would be able to follow. It was a game; they were mere toys, the Silver Hand. Though these toys were a bit of a nuisance. They followed a similar mindset as the Vigilants of Stendarr, but the Silver Hand were more akin to bandits than devotees carrying out the will of a divine.
Moving downwind, Ayalea was able to keep track of the hunters following her; it’d been a constant stream of stink, but it suddenly changed course, and a new scent reached her. It was faint, a good distance away, but it was most definitely that of a werewolf’s; whether it was in its beast form, she couldn’t tell.
Ayalea too changed course, deciding an addition to this game of chase would be interesting.
leviathanwielded:
@kohledtouch WOW I FINALLY MADE IT
“Looks like we’re roommates!” a neutral statement? Mostly, though she would miss the luxurious seclusion she’d enjoyed at home, alone with father’s books and her countless toys. Now, she would have another kind of fun, hopefully. She’d read enough about magic - now she yearned to do it herself. No way around attending a proper school, even though she would have preferred to stay at home, with her father. Alas…. The other girl looked nice enough, or well, she better be nice. Otherwise, one of them would have an awful time - and Ignes was determined that she would not be the one failing to enjoy herself.
“I am Ignes. nice to meet you.”
Ayalea turned around, letting the plush blanket she brought from home slip from her hands and onto the bed in a lumpy pile. Her parents warned her the bedding here would be nowhere near the level of comfort she was used to, and they promised to send whatever she needed to feel more at home. The girl behind her looked around her age; dark-haired and with a plucky smile plastered on her face.
“Ayalea,” she introduced. “It’s nice to meet you too.”
At least her roommate was kind enough to introduce herself; she feared spending all of her time in the dormitory in silence. Nothing was worse than when no one talked to anyone.
“Are you a first year too?”
Would they room old children with younger? They might’ve explained that during the ceremony, but she hadn’t paid attention. She was too busy beaming at the fact that she’d made it into Slytherin, like most of her family had years’ past.
kohledtouch:
The news of the destruction of the Hall of Vigilants had been circulating through the underground. People spoke of scrounging through the ruins for treasure, but no one who suggested it dared go alone, and they couldn’t find people willing to join them. Fear of surviving Vigilants and lingering vampires deterred the would-be scavengers from even poking around the ruins.
Ayalea wasn’t concerned though, and she knew those Vigilants hoarded some pricey things; things confiscated from “monsters” like her, treasures, magical items. The possibility of finding something worth nabbing made the danger worth it. Of course, Ayalea rarely considered herself to be in danger anyway; the hubris brought about by her vampirism clung to her for decades.
Not long after arriving at the hall, the vampire caught the scent of another venturing toward her destination, noticeable even in the oppressive smoke-filled air. A mortal, nothing strange in their scent. As they drew closer, Ayalea could hear the soft crunch of the snow under their feet.
She caught sight of them through the entrance and decided to lean on the edge of side-turned table, crossing her arms over her chest as she waited. She could have ran, but where was the fun in that? Curiosity was much more tantalizing.
Her eyes followed the stranger as they knelt at the steps, reaching down past where Ayalea could see. Were they a Vigilant? A relative? They didn’t have the look of a scavenger, and they certainly didn’t speak like one.
Ayalea grasped the edge of her hood, pulling it down gently as way of a greeting. Her unsettling icy gaze held the stranger’s as she spoke.
“I’m well aware of what this place was,” the vampire corrected the stranger, speaking through the mask covering her nose and mouth. “I’m simply visiting. Decided to pay my respects to a great, fallen order.”
The venom in her words was overlaid with a soft amusement.
Beatrice’s gaze didn’t falter as the vampire stared back, simply keeping on hand on her sword in the event of battle: and her left free to ready a spell if necessary. She did, however, grit her teeth at the Ayalea’s mocking and sarcastic tone as she took a few steps closer towards the other woman.
“The Vigilants of Stendarr are far from fallen,” she declared, her alleigance becoming clearer by the moment. “Even though the Skyrim branch might have been destroyed, in time more from Cyrodrill will come and rebuild this once holy place to deliver Stendarr’s mercy upon the wickedness of the night,” Beatrice said, before recollecting herself.
“I still wish to know who you are. If you have come to loot those who would bring mercy to the night, then be assured that there is nothing here to loot: I have personally buried anything that was of worth with the dead. Unless you intend to defile the graves of the fallen…”
Ayalea rolled her eyes; either this woman was a Vigilant, or she was a mere wannabe. Regardless, the response would be predictable if she were to find out Ayalea’s true nature. The Vigilants existed for an imaginary cause, fighting what they deemed “unnatural,” but there was no such thing. Whether by the hand of the universe, the Divines, or the Princes, it was all natural.
"There’s really no reason to be so uptight,” she said, glancing down at the woman’s hand holding the pommel of her sword. “I’m not going to attack, unless, of course, you attack me. It’s only fair I defend myself.”
Even as she approached, Ayalea remained in place. She had lived far too long to fear anyone, especially mortals. The day may come when she regrets not taking threats seriously, but she’s not one to admit that.
“Whatever they try to rebuild will end up the same,” she replied, motioning to the building. “Something riled up the vampires, and your ‘divine’ strength won’t be enough to stop it.”
Despite being a vampire herself, Ayalea didn’t know what had the others of her kind so active. They usually remained in the shadows, feeding when needed, occasionally forming a small coven with the delusional hope of controlling a city and immediately being destroyed, but lately, it seemed that entire world was growing restless.
“‘Mercy to the night’? Now, there’s a delusion,” Ayalea remarked.
“I was going to dig through the rubble and see what secrets the Vigilants liked to keep in their nightstand,” she said, pushing off the table and standing up properly. “But you’ve spoiled my fun before I had the chance. No reason to stick around.”
closed starter for @kohledtouch
With flowers and an amulet of Stendarr in her hands, Beatrice was rather solemn to approach the now ruined Hall of the Vigilant.
After all, it was the deaths of Keeper Carcette and her loyal followers that brought her to this frigid land and brought her to realize her destiny: but even if they had not, a fallen Vigilant was a fallen brother and sister in-arms, and as Skyrim’s new Keeper (in-time, anyways) it was her duty to honor the dead who cleansed the world in Stendarr’s name.
It was only a matter of time, she thought bitterly. The Vigilants only were well-funded and armed in Cyrodrill: it was of no surprise to learn Carcette’s group would one day face trouble. But to think the undead would be so bold as to destroy the hall entirely… it didn’t sit well with her. Perhaps the ‘Volkihar’ clan that existed up in Skyrim? The Cyrodrill Vampyrum Order was strong back home, but she had heard no tales of an organized vampire clan in Skyrim, but after something like this: perhaps she could contact the Order of the Virtuous Blood, see if they know anything…
… Well, she could think about that later.
Rest in peace, brothers-in-arms, she thought to herself, placing the flowers and amulet at the steps to the destroyed building… and narrowing her eyes at the sight of a figure in the darkness, in the ruins of the Hall. Casting a Candelight, she headed into the Hall with a hand on her sword.
“Do you not know what this place is? State your business,” Beatrice replied, still not aware of the true nature of the ruins’ visitors. She refused to let a place like this be defiled by petty scavengers.
The news of the destruction of the Hall of Vigilants had been circulating through the underground. People spoke of scrounging through the ruins for treasure, but no one who suggested it dared go alone, and they couldn’t find people willing to join them. Fear of surviving Vigilants and lingering vampires deterred the would-be scavengers from even poking around the ruins.
Ayalea wasn’t concerned though, and she knew those Vigilants hoarded some pricey things; things confiscated from “monsters” like her, treasures, magical items. The possibility of finding something worth nabbing made the danger worth it. Of course, Ayalea rarely considered herself to be in danger anyway; the hubris brought about by her vampirism clung to her for decades.
Not long after arriving at the hall, the vampire caught the scent of another venturing toward her destination, noticeable even in the oppressive smoke-filled air. A mortal, nothing strange in their scent. As they drew closer, Ayalea could hear the soft crunch of the snow under their feet.
She caught sight of them through the entrance and decided to lean on the edge of side-turned table, crossing her arms over her chest as she waited. She could have ran, but where was the fun in that? Curiosity was much more tantalizing.
Her eyes followed the stranger as they knelt at the steps, reaching down past where Ayalea could see. Were they a Vigilant? A relative? They didn’t have the look of a scavenger, and they certainly didn’t speak like one.
Ayalea grasped the edge of her hood, pulling it down gently as way of a greeting. Her unsettling icy gaze held the stranger’s as she spoke.
“I’m well aware of what this place was,” the vampire corrected the stranger, speaking through the mask covering her nose and mouth. “I’m simply visiting. Decided to pay my respects to a great, fallen order.”
The venom in her words was overlaid with a soft amusement.
kohledtouch:
She listened to his story, not entirely convinced that emotion was the reason for his suffering, but rather his arrogance she was sure he had in abundance when he was younger.
Her eyes glanced down at his hand, just above her throat, and she felt a soft tingle as the spell worked its way through her body. It was a similar feeling to one’s hand going numb, but on a much, much weaker scale. Ayalea’s gaze followed up his arm and to his face, er, mask; the mask that greeted her when she fell into Apocrypha, the mask that hid her attacker-turned-mentor’s face. She wondered, as she often did, why he still bothered to wear it.
As his story/lecture came to an end, it took a great deal of willpower not to roll her eyes. ‘Learn from your elders’ sounded too similar to ‘Respect your elders’ and it wasn’t a sentiment she was keen on. Though, she understood his actual message: ‘Don’t fuck up the same way the old people fucked up.’
“Glad to know I can still breathe,” she replied to his assessment.
His magic continued moving inside her, but the tingly sensation turned to one of warmth as it stitched together the damage.
“So,” she began while his magic continued its work, “I’m guessing we’re done for today. Or did you have more? I’m thinking the Shouting thing needs a break.”
“That would be wise.” he agreed, staunching the last of the bleeding and withdrawing with a shake of his hand to dislodge the weird feeling that magica sometimes accumulated in his palm. “I am sure a crisis would emerge the moment we overexerted you.”
That was just a Hero thing - Spriggans could grow flowers in the wake of their steps, Dragonborns grew problems.
“If you are not already in the middle of one, that is. Wait a full day before Shouting again. I can heal the physical, but a bad Shout harms more than that. I am sure the Greybeards would offer meditation, or something of the sort.”
His tone said everything about what he thought of that idea. Rich of him, to think of them as a bunch of old codgers on a hill, when he was outstripping them by eras and had just given a lecture on the wisdom of one’s elders. They had something useful to give, he was sure - just not all that wishy-washy stuff.
Crisis was not the most comforting word he could’ve chosen. Crisis could’ve meant tearing her throat, bursting her lungs, exploding her head...
“Well, besides the issues already pointed out,” she said, “I feel... okay. Not quite fine, but not awful. So, I doubt I’m dealing with any sort of ‘crisis.’”
At the mention of meditating, her lip curled in disgust. “Don’t tell me you’re going to try that route. Sitting and breathing... I can do both, but only doing both might send me spiraling into madness. The sheer boredom.”
It was bad enough spending her time training; while she enjoyed the idea of the power she could wield, she wasn’t a fan of the process of reaching that level. She’d gone through training her combat and other skills as a child, she’d paid her dues in time spent listening and practicing and pretending to be patient. Though, thinking back on it, she’d deal with it again if it meant the return of her family. Now, all she had was Miraak, and beyond him being her mentor, she didn’t know how to think of him.
“Is there anything else you want me to do?” she asked, pulling herself from her thoughts. “Anything else I can do?”
