Stubborn Resilience

Roleplay blog for Nallron, an Aldmeri Dominion soldier OC, and Aicendor, a Thalmor Justiciar OC. Both are based off Bethesda's Skyrim. Canon and non-canon characters are welcome.

[nallron]

aurielswaywardson​:

Hulkynds and Bastards {Undilaril and Nallron}

Undil sighed wearily to himself as he pushed open the door to the barracks, the windy cold of Skyrim’s ‘summer’ snows gladly exchanged for the warmth of the barracks. It was early morning and a long, cold night on guard duty made the tall mer want nothing more then some hot breakfast and his bunk. 

Most of the other soldiers gave him a respectful berth as he walked along; it was well known that Undilaril Mirkrali was possibly the most foul-tempered bastard of a soldier known to the entire Dominion. His dour attitude and disregard for most aspects of respect to commanding officers earned him the worst postings in the worst zones and kept him at the rank of a Private even when he was two hundred years old and had been in the military since he was fifty. 

After getting some porridge, bread, and some tea, he sat himself at a lone table and started on his breakfast, ignoring everyone else and giving frosty glares to anyone who met his gaze. 

Nallron was absolutely not a morning person. It had taken immense effort and a well-intentioned shove from his bunkmate before he had finally managed to drag himself out from the warmth of his covers. Grumbling and yawning to himself, he slowly fumbled his way into his armour. The many fasteners and buckles posed an unwelcome challenge for such an early morning.

Eventually he was suitably clothed and after running a comb through his unruly bedhead, Nallron trudged his way over to the Embassy’s mess with a few more groans and grumbles. The mess itself was fairly empty, a rather subdued atmosphere in the air as both those about to start their shift and those just finishing theirs displayed similar levels of downcast weariness.

Nallron grabbed a sizeable hunk of bread and some cheese, ignoring the healthier options, and then turned to look for a spot to sit and scoff his breakfast. It was then that the lone Private caught his eye. 

Undilaril Mirkali – a mer with a reputation for being a deeply unsociable git. But for some reason that had always intrigued Nallron. How could the mer seemingly not have a single friend amongst his co-workers? Nallron almost pitied him.

Cautiously, the soldier approached Undilaril’s table and carefully sat himself down at the closest neighbouring table. With a small smile and a nod, he looked directly at the other mer and offered in a friendly tone, “Morning. Cold today, isn’t it?”

[nallron]

@dragxnsfire from here

Potions of all kinds laid in puddles on the cobblestone, among shards of thick, wavy glass, and the shreds of dignity the once-Vestige had carried in public. The Thalmor weren't supposed to be wandering about in Solitude today, not if his educated guesses had been correct— and generally, at his age, with his experience, they were. But this mer looked different. He didn't recognize the fellow before him, not from his imprisonment at the Embassy, nor his research.

Urnarseldo's lips pulled into a forced, sheepish smile, and he knelt to salvage what he could: an oddly viscious violet potion, a ruddy tincture— and his list. "Well, I wouldn't be pestering you if you hadn't stepped in my path, ceruval," he said with a good-natured huff. After all, this mer hadn't recognized him, not at first. If his luck held, Nallron wouldn't realize he was the wanted ex-hero, and would simply see a bumbling, old wizard. "Mind passing me that green bottle? I need all the help these potions can give me."

The irritated grimace upon Nallron’s face faded slowly as he watched the unfamiliar mer hurry to save what he could of his potions. The colourful mess of strange liquids and shattered glass below dazzled in a way that was almost pretty in the afternoon sun as it finally dawned on Nallron what a complete ass he’d been.

If the general mood in the Embassy had been on edge before, the recent unannounced arrival of a certain High Justiciar had swiftly pushed it off a cliff edge. Nallron had already been barked at three times today for the most minor of rule and uniform infractions. Stressed out and not wanting a fourth disciplining, he’d decided to leave the Embassy as soon as he was off shift to try and relax, most likely with several ales in his belly. So far, things had yet to go as planned.

“I errr... Sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that...” Nallron offered sheepishly as he bent down to join the mer’s rescue attempts. “I hope this stuff isn’t expensive...” he murmured to himself as he looked around quizzically. A soldier’s salary was not exactly lavish, especially when every spare coin went towards booze. Nallron had little hope of being able to repay the mer for his losses.

“Ah, here.” Finding the indicated green bottle, he handed it back to its owner, attempting not to look too curious as to its contents.

[nallron]

aurielswaywardson​:

Manarion’s mouth twitched and tightened as they sat together, staring at one another, waiting for the other to make the first move. A game Manarion was often not fond of playing, even at the best of times. He shifted his weight in his chair, frowning as the Justiciar answered his question and then promptly posed one of his own.

“Why what?” He asked, a little evasively. He was not exactly aware of how much Aicendor knew, but he wasn’t really interested in discussing his personal life with a strange mer he hardly knew.

Aicendor caught the old mer’s frown and his evasiveness as he turned the question back onto him. His unwillingness to speak more openly about Elenwen did not surprise Aicendor. But it was the frown that piqued his curiosity. Had he wanted Elenwen to chase after him? Was he that much of a narcissist? 

Aicendor could feel a not-so unfamiliar anger flare up inside. It took a moment for him to talk himself down lest he let his anger spill out into the open. He didn’t know nearly enough yet to jump to conclusions. However, something felt very off in a way Aicendor was not going to let lie.

“Were you expecting her to send someone?” He finally answered in a flat tone, his eyes flicking back up to meet Manarion’s. “I’m not sure she’s in the best head space currently to be organising search parties”, he added, trying to goad the former General into saying something more than a guarded yes or no.

[nallron]

aurielswaywardson:

“It does not currently.” Manarion growled bluntly, looking very unimpressed and uninterested in their conversation thus far. “But let us say that I believe you. What are you here for, then?” He asked, glowering at the younger and smaller Altmer in an almost challenging manner.

He could feel the stares of the other inn patrons on his back as well, but he was used to brushing them off. Very few Altmer reached his height, let alone his bulk, and he was an oddity wherever he went. One got a little used to it after a while.

“Did Elenwen ask you to do this?”

Aicendor knew better than to admit that he had volunteered to help bring the former General back to his post on behalf of the High Justiciar. Truthfully, Aicendor didn’t want any part in the Thalmor’s “re-education” attempts. But, he couldn’t just leave the Embassy without good reason and the High Justiciar had just so happened to offer the most convenient of covers.

Feebly, he opened and then swiftly closed his mouth, struggling to find a suitable response. He furrowed his brows together as he tried to will himself to think of something before the former General lost his already waning patience.

At the mention of Elenwen’s name, Aicendor looked up, meeting Manarion’s eyes for the first time. Interesting that he was the first to bring her up... The Justiciar narrowed his eyes at the great mer. He wondered, briefly, what answer he would prefer. Not that it mattered. Aicendor was a terrible liar.

“No. She did not.” He said very slowly, watching Manarion’s reaction intently. With a momentary spike in courage, he added with audible suspicion, “Why?”

[nallron]

aurielswaywardson:

Manarion waited for a few tense seconds before he followed Aicendor, forced to walk slowly and carefully so he didn’t walk right over the smaller Altmer. Wood creaked protest beneath his weight as he followed the Justiciar warily to the selected table. His whole body was tense and at the ready, mind flicking through moves and countermoves in case Aicendor decided to attack him outright or was leading him to an ambush in the inn. Current best plan was to grab Aicendor first and potentially use him as a bargaining chip to secure a stronger position, whether for defense or otherwise. 

 The towering ex-Thalmor hesitated yet again as Aicendor sat, before following suit, still tense and high strung. His mouth twitched at the feeble attempt at a joke, a small snort escaping him as he set his large arms on the table. He brushed at one gauntlet idly, not taking his eyes off the other Altmer before he squared his shoulders and spoke. A single word. 

 “Speak.”

Well, that was rather to the point. Aicendor had hoped for the opportunity to get a stiff drink to calm his nerves before they started to speak properly. He exhaled softly. No matter...

“I know we did not get to know each other too well since I joined the Skyrim Embassy.” Aicendor started slowly. His eyes were trained on a point just to the left of one of Manarion’s large ears rather than looking straight at the mer and he fiddled nervously with his tunic sleeve. 

It had been a while since he had worn something that was not his usual Thalmor uniform. Somehow he felt like he stood out even more in normal clothes. It did not help that half the tavern’s patrons were casting wary glances over at the pair of them. Elves were rare this far out from the major cities and Altmer in particular were likely seen as bad news to most of the locals.

“But, I am not here to try and ambush you or cause you harm. You have my word. If that even means anything?” 

Regardless of how Aicendor felt about the great Altmer sitting in front of him, they both knew there was little to nothing he could do to Manarion. If he even tried, Aicendor suspected he would very quickly be crushed like a pathetic little insect. And he didn’t have a death wish quite yet.

[nallron]

@aurielswaywardson from here

"You first. I do not feel like getting a dagger in the back." Manarion growled, voice deep and rumbling, a clear promise of harm if he felt threatened.

Aicendor cautiously lead the way into the nearby inn, his heart thumping in his chest. Somehow, despite volunteering for the High Justiciar’s mission to "recover” Skyrim’s wayward General, he had not expected to actually find Manarion Elahriel. At least not so quickly.

He had almost forgotten how towering and intimidating the mer was, particularly when he was in a foul mood. Aicendor did not exactly feel comfortable in his presence, but this was what he had wanted, wasn’t it? A conversation with the mer who’d broken his friend’s heart.

His thought’s drifted to Elenwen and a pang of guilt tugged at his heart. He hadn’t meant to go behind her back like this. He should have approached her and asked her about her side of things first. But... It had been so many years since he and Elenwen had spoken properly. 

Since joining the Thalmor in Skyrim their conversations had been brief and few and far between. Aicendor had wanted to speak with her more candidly and catch up on the years they’d been apart, but there had never been the right moment. Elenwen was often so busy as Ambassador, but even so Aicendor had sensed a reticence on Elenwen’s part to reconnect with a past that still held painful memories for her, so he had not pushed it.

Things had changed recently, however. The departure of General Elahriel and the clear breakdown in the relationship he and Elenwen shared had Aicendor worried. He knew what had happened to Elenwen in the past and he would never forgive himself if he had been oblivious to history repeating itself.

So, unable to bring himself to ask his old friend, here he was attempting to see what he could glean from the former General himself.

Once inside the small tavern, Aicendor made a beeline for a table in the furthest and most secluded corner and indicated for the elder mer to sit.

“Do you want anything to drink? I promise I won’t poison it.” The very feeble attempt at a joke fell rather flat as the mer’s eyes remained quite serious. He had never known the General very well and thus did not fully trust him, but he did not wish harm on him. ...Yet?

[nallron]

((I made Aicendor’s (immediate) family tree in Family Echo for reference purposes. There’s some further explanations of who’s who under the cut.

Daeron and Alcaril are fraternal twins, with Alcaril being the elder by approximately 16 minutes.

Iauron died 8 years after his twin sons were born. Daeron barely remembers him.

Nelya died when Aicendor was 237. He took 2 weeks leave from his post within the Thalmor to help his family with his grandmother’s funeral.

Cirill died when Aicendor was 34. His mother, Cirill’s daughter Nesswen, struggled greatly with her death.

Nesswen died when Aicendor was 593. He is still very numb about the fact that his mother is gone. It does not feel real to him and he doubts it ever will.

Eruthea is Aicendor’s half-sister. He is not aware of her existence. Before Aicendor’s parents met, his father Daeron had a relationship with an Altmer named Laelia. They were together for about 25 years and after they split Laelia discovered she was with child. Daeron knows of Eruthea but has refused to acknowledge her as his child and has nothing to do with her. Laelia moved to Cloudrest and brought her daughter up alone. Later in life, Laelia disowned Eruthea after she ran away from home to elope with an Imperial named Reberio in Anvil, Cyrodiil.))

[nallron]

Miria Vaneth

((During his marriage to Lona Narathar, Aicendor and his wife were under a lot of pressure to have a child and extend the Vaneth family line. For seven long years the two of them tried for a baby and were close to giving up when Lona finally fell pregnant.

Aicendor was over the moon at the fact that it had finally happening. He had always loved children and had dreamed of the day he would father a child of his own. Unfortunately it was not meant to be.

Complications arose and Lona went in to labour at 26 weeks. In the early hours of the morning on 16th Sun’s Dawn 4E 126, tiny Miria Vaneth was born, weighing just 1.8 pounds. Her parents knew her chances of surviving were extremely slim and it broke their hearts. After 20 hours of struggling, Miria’s body gave out and she passed away.

The months after losing their daughter were some of the most difficult of both Lona and Aicendor’s lives. They planted a tree together in Miria’s memory in the garden of the Vaneth family estate. It still stands to this day and Aicendor visits it whenever he’s in Alinor. With every visit he brings along a new teddy bear to place at the tree’s base.

Lona and Aicendor never tried for another child after Miria and 28 years later they split amicably.))

[nallron]

Headcanon~

((Aicendor’s parents were quite strict with him. He was their only child and thus all their hopes and expectations were pinned on him. They made him study weighty subjects such as history and foreign affairs from a very young age for many long hours every day. When he turned ten years old, he started his combat training alongside his other studies.

It was a lot of pressure for young Aicendor and unfortunately for him, he never met any of his family’s expectations. His intellect was decidedly average by Altmer standards and despite the many hours of training, he was not a fighter. His parents could never really hide their disappointment in their son and Aicendor has always felt guilty for not being the son they wanted him to be.

That said, despite the strict atmosphere his parents set for him at home, his parents loved their son and were often affectionate with him. Aicendor has many fond memories of his childhood.))

[nallron]

Headcanon~

((Aicendor was married to an Altmer womer named Lona Narathar for over three decades. The marriage was arranged by Aicendor’s parents after they felt that their son needed some assistance in finding the right womer to settle down with.

Lona and Aicendor had a happy marriage, but their relationship was never truly romantic. Neither party was attracted to the other on a romantic or sexual level and they ever only saw the other as a close friend.

Aicendor only agreed to the marriage to please his parents. It wasn’t until after his mother, Nesswen, passed away that Aicendor found the courage to go through with a divorce. He and Lona went their separate ways amicably and remain friends to this day, occasionally sharing letters between one another.))

[nallron]

Minor Headcanon~

((Aicendor is allergic to cats, or more specifically - their fur.))

[nallron]

“ let me explain. ” (from dawnguardxd)

Nallron eyed the old mer with cold suspicion, a hand coming to rest on the hilt of his sword. “You have five seconds. One...”

[nallron]

Nalron, while people are asking the general about his handwriting, do you have trouble reading his writing?

“Yeah, all the time.” There was an unsubtle sarcastic note to his voice before he scoffed, “You blasted grey mages know well enough that I can’t read anybody’s fucking handwriting, no matter how neat or how messy it is. Stop trying to rub it in.”

[nallron]

oriinthel

“I, uh…”

Ori stood a little straighter, and inhaled despite the strong stench of alcohol. “Not the General, specifically, but I am friends with his son, who I know you report to.” Not technically a lie. If he was just a soldier, then he did really report to Firiel. “Neither would be pleased at your very public behavior.”

She shifted a little. “How I make friends isn’t any of your business, but if you really want to know, we ran into each other one day. We could both stand to have a few more friends, so we just… talked.” Her head tilted a little at the mer. He still didn’t recognize her. She wasn’t in any danger. “Will you be able to get back to the embassy? Should I call a carriage?”

“Oh... Firiel.” Nallron was a little surprised to hear the young mer had been making friends with random Bosmer girls, but then, he had to admit, the Major was the rather friendly type. It was also true that Nallron did have to answer to him, although Firiel did not typically give out orders. 

“L-look, you're about the only one who’s seen me. It’s not that public...” He sounded like he was half-whining, half-begging the girl not to say anything. Not his proudest moment, no, but he had already lost what little remained of his dwindling dignity.

Attempting to stand a little straighter with the aid of the wall and continuing to take deep breaths to steady himself, Nallron scowled. “I’m fine. I can get myself home. Don’t need a literal baby Bosmer to help me.”

He then proceeded to trip and fall over a low wall as he tried to walk away.

[nallron]

latailwe

“It’s a bird.  You do a big year, you try and record as many different bird species as possible.”  When her feet were dry and relatively warm, she stuffed them back into her wool socks and then into her shoes.  She stood and moved over to the other mer.

“I’m Latailwe.”  She held out her hand.  “I was hoping there were swallows under the bridge, but I don’t think they actually come up this far north. They’re little birds that look like flying cigars.  I figured I ought to do my big year in Skyrim before the war, the actual war, breaks out enforce.”  

It helped to be overzealous in her cover, she found, so she pulled out a small book filled with pictures of different birds.  Several of the birds had dates and locations written by them.  In reality those dates and locations corresponded to different sabotage targets, but to anyone, even another birder, it was just a life list.

“See this?”  She pointed to some strange faced bird. “This is a Chuck-Will’s-Widow.  It looks a lot like a whip-poor-will but I spotted one down in the Rift.”

Nallron could not hide his incredulous expression as the newcomer wittered on about her birds, but he supposed everyone had to have a hobby. He couldn’t imagine dedicating an entire year to a hobby tho-- Actually, no, he could, given that his hobby was drinking himself into Oblivion every two weeks or so. If he put his mind to it, he was sure he could do a year of nothing but that quite easily.

“Nallron.” He responded plainly whilst taking her hand and giving the briefest of handshakes. “...Nice to meet you.” I suppose?

At being shown a sketch of a quite frankly odd-looking bird, he found himself nodding only out of politeness. “I see... So you waded through icy waters just to catch a glimpse of a bird that looks almost exactly like one you have already seen.” He made an attempt at not sounding condescending and snobbish, but admittedly he did not exactly try very hard. “How fascinating. Now if you would excuse me, I will be on my way.”

[nallron]

Fundraiser Date Meme

Date Fee: One bottle of ale Customer Comments: “I think he gave that one ale bottle more attention than me. As I got up to leave, he did a very poor job of hiding the fact that he was staring at my ass the whole time - 0 out of 5”

Tagged by: @fahow-ma Tagging: You!

[nallron]

latailwe

There weren’t many bridges between Solitude and Dawnstar, but Latailwe was well aware of the Legion’s intention to push towards the territory to better protect the primary holding.  She tied a jug of alchemist’s fire to the underside of the bridge’s northern support beam.  She was knee deep in water, but no one would think to look for sabotage.  Not until after the bridge collapsed.

Package secure, she hopped to the other beam to ensure the bridge’s destruction.  All it would take was to light the fuse and run.  And to do so, she wrapped a thick waxed rope around each bomb for the next saboteur to find.  Satisfied, she trudged out of the freezing water to dry her feet and change her shoes.

The woman looked older than youth but younger than middle age.  If she were a human rather than an altmer, she would have been considered in her thirties.  Her red hair coiled down her back in a fishtail braid in a way reminiscent of a lazy snake.  With a huff into her hands, she cast a warming spell and held it over her freezing and numb feet.  She froze for the half second it heard her to parse a crunch behind her as footsteps, then whipped her head around.

A mer?  Her brows knitted.  

“You ever hear a whip-poor-will?”  She ran her fingers over her toes as she waited for a response.  Dissatisfied with whatever he gave her, she quickly added, “I hear they’re in this area.  I’m doin’ my ‘Big Year.’”

As Nallron trudged along the well-worm path towards Dawnstar, a hand firmly on the hilt of his short sword at all times, he made a concerted effort to take in and savour his surroundings. Skyrim was nowhere near as beautiful as the Alinor countryside, where he used to spend many an hour simply walking in the dazzling sunlight of the summer months, but there was a certain charm to its lands once one adjusted to the ever-encapsulating cold.

If he were being completely honest, Nallron was mostly just glad to be away from the Embassy, even for only a short time. Things had been hectic of late. A little too hectic for him. So he had scheduled himself two weeks leave with only minor guilt, intending to find some peace and quiet on the road. 

His first stop would be Dawnstar, a city he had not yet visited in all his time in Skyrim. He knew little about the place. The only real reason he had for making it his destination for the day was pure curiosity.

As he drew closer to the bridge Nallron spotted the other Altmer, his eyes drawn to her almost immediately. There were very few of his kind in Skyrim, particularly those who were not connected in some way to the Thalmor - something he assumed of the woman from the fact that she looked entirely unfamiliar. 

The soldier opened his mouth to greet her as he approached, but was beaten to it by her own curious greeting.

“...A what?” Nallron came to a stop and furrowed his eyebrows at the stranger. “No. No, I haven’t...” 

Pausing to look her up and down once more, his gaze became gradually more wary of her before he finally spoke again. “So, you’re out here in the middle of nowhere to look at... some creature or whatever it was you said? ...I see” 

Except he didn’t see. What appeal was there to wading through very likely icy cold waters to look at some insignificant creature that liked to live there? Nallron shook his head incredulously without even realising.