Potions to Cure

"What can I do for you?" Quintus Navale, Imperial of twenty Alchemist in Windhelm, apprenticed at The White Phial Part of TheDovahkiinRP. Current Status: Online Open to anyone within the Skyrim!verse (sorry!). The Modernverse blog may be found here. Please be sure to look over the about page!

[noumalatu-deactivated20210127]

Are you an active Elder Scrolls blog? Like/reblog this post.

Lemme see who you are.

[quintusofwindhelm]

{ I know a long long time ago I went and said possible reboot but that obvs. didn’t happen. because college is rough and I am a nursing student

however, I rlly miss quintus and one of my roomates has been on an elder scrolls kick and shit dude q didn’t get to see v much before I got busy

so, of the fandom that’s active, I give you my rp/tumblr skype at iceskatingmobsters and if you would like please bother me there and I will get some threads goin

ps I also do threads for gilbert from bloodborne on there too so whatever floats your boat my dudes }

[quintusofwindhelm]

{ possible reboot??? it’s been a year, how many of my followers are even still around…? }

[quintusofwindhelm]

{ possible reboot??? it’s been a year, how many of my followers are even still around...? }

[quintusofwindhelm]

((Aplogies for the radio silence this past week or so, my grades tanked and I'm trying my damndest to get back up. I owe two starters and a reply, at the moment, but if you think I've missed you like this post and I'll check!))

[quintusofwindhelm]

Streets and Speeches

Quintus milled around the market, knapsack in hand. He had gotten this week's supplies, but he still had another half hour or so before he really needed to be back in the Phial, and he intended to make use of it. Things were so slow and menial that he was getting a little restless.

He walked before Candlehearth Hall to witness a Dunmer hurry by, a worn book falling out of his knapsack. The young alchemist picked it up and started to call out to him when he noticed the cover. Is this a copy of Response to Bero's Speech? He hummed, impressed, and a little jealous. He'd been trying to get a copy for ages, but nobody seemed to be selling -- at least, not around here. He wondered where the Mer may have gotten it... and looked up to find said Mer turning a corner.  "Wait -- Sir, your book!" he cried, hurrying after him before he disappeared into the crowd.

[quintusofwindhelm]

ϟ [ I'm hoarding my memes as rewards for finishing homework but this totally doesn't countttttt ]

"He's so lucky, getting to see the world and obtain so much knowledge that isn't in a Nordic ruin. Wonder if he'd let me tag along, one of these days... Nevertheless, it's so good to see him again."

[dprgamer-deactivated20160211]

Skyrim, :x and hello. ^_^,

[rpfunstuff]

another one of those "fill this out" mun things.

[quintusofwindhelm]

• What’s your name?: Emmy • What are your preferred pronouns?: she/her/hers please! • How old are you?: 17 |D Too old to be a youngin, too young to be an oldun... • What’s your tracked tag?: quintusofwindhelm • How many years of rp experience do you have?: Mmm... three or four, at most five • What’s your preferred thread style?: Paragraph, but that's all I've done, open to more • What timezone are you in and when are you normally active?: US Pacific, and from around 5 PST to well after midnight, with bits and pieces during the school day • What fictional character do you relate to most?: Oh jeez. I'd say Combeferre, from Les Mis, or Joly, because they're both really into what they do, and can be cold, but they care and are a nice quiethappy that I'd like to show more. • Do you have any triggers you’d like people to tag?: Nope! • Is there anything you’re uncomfortable writing?: Smut, and not just because I'm underage. • What’s something you’ve been really wanting to RP but haven’t found someone to RP it with?: I want Q to be badass, because he can, if provoked. I mean the guy had mercenaries for parents, he's damn good with daggers. Throwing knives, cmon guys! Also, more of Nurelion, because he's a grouchy curmudgeonly BAMF. And I could always do more injury and/or sickness RPs OvO • What are three of the most important things to know about your muse?: He won't be taken advantage of. He won't resort to violence, necessarily, but he can and will hold his own. He can end conflicts -- usually through words rather than blades -- but he won't start them. It's why he won't make poisons. He wants someone to know him, well, but he continues to keep distances, and he's having a hard time stopping himself from doing so. • What are three of the most important things to know about you?: I'm very forgetful and I lose things easily, so dropped threads are never on purpose. I'm selective, in terms of who I'll seek out, but I'll never say no to a starter! I'm HEAVILY involved in theatre at school, and I also do orchestra and more afterschool clubs, so I'm kind of losing my free time; I want to get out there and build relationships for Q, but I don't always have the time to seek out new people on my own. Bonus: ILY all, my askbox is always open.

[heyfiki]

[quintusofwindhelm]

ϟ

"Hmm... Wasn't she in the company of General Tullius, last time I was in Solitude? I wonder who she is to him..."

[quintusofwindhelm]

ϟ

"He's awfully nice for someone in his field of work. I'm still terrified of him..."

[unicornsandgauntlets-deactivate]

For every ϟ in my inbox I'll tell you a random thought my muse has about yours.

[attheborderofoblivion]

"I won’t take your bed, Quintus. Nurelion will offer couch in his room, I’m sure. His cough is as obnoxious as thirty Stormcloaks in a jar, but not contagious. Besides, the old fetcher won’t turn away someone who can guess the requests he’s too proud to voice." There’s a short delay between him finishing his sentence and him stepping forward to join his friend at the counter top. Though he was certain patrons had been tracking in mud, snow and worse over the course of the day, Brethyn disliked doing it himself. 

"And no, I’m sorry. I’d quite forgotten about the crimson nirnroot business. The war progresses as it always has - slowly, and with unconscionable atrocities against civilians. For all Ulfric claims this land for the Nords, I’ve got to wonder how many will be left to live in it if he keeps having his way.’ Brethyn eschews formality in lieu of pulling himself up to sit on the counter top next to the young Imperial. A spark of memory flashes in his eyes as he’s about to open his mouth to continue. 

'And did you hear?! Dragons! Of all the implausible things to befall that hapless warlord, dragons snatch him out of the Imperial’s hands right as he’s going on the chopping block! Some have been talking about it being some sign from their gods, blessing Ulfric’s reign! Damn s’wit fools, if I ever saw any in my life!”

[quintusofwindhelm]

Quintus hums and pulls a rag from his belt, running it between his fingers. "He's getting worse," he says quietly. "I wish there was something more I could do than just lessen the symptoms, but I've found nothing." He falls silent, but his pensiveness is quickly broken when Brethyn jumps up on the counter. "Hey!" He twists the rag and whips it at his friend's back. "Get off, I need to clean that. Don't need your rear end dirtying it up any more than it already is." 

He sighs and shakes his head. "The war seems so far away, and then you wake up to find a group of soldiers dragging some barely conscious Nord through the market in an attempt to get him to the temple before he dies." Another sigh. "There's only two ways this war will probably end, and one of them is an attack on the city. Here's hoping we're in some Nordic ruin chasing after the phial when it happens. Oh, speaking of ruins, apparently that strand of nirnroot is only found in some far reaching Dwemer corner of Oblivion, which, of course, you wouldn't find me in if it was the only way to stop the world from ending, so I've chosen not to pursue that particular expedition myself."

At his mention of dragons, a good portion of Quintus' light-hearted demeanor leaves, and cold fear replaces it. "I... I had not wanted to believe they had truly returned, but it appears as if I have no choice," he says, forcing a laugh to hide his sudden change of attitude. "There was talk of one flying over the city, but..." He shrugs. "As for their return being a blessing, I sincerely doubt it. If it's a blessing, it's one straight from the Daedric princes."

[quintusofwindhelm]

((I see that I've picked up some new followers, so like for a starter, maybe? Or if you head into my prompts tag, I think I posted a few interesting ones in the last couple days that I'd be happy to respond to as well!))

[attheborderofoblivion]

"Just now, actually! I couldn’t very well come into town and not visit the esteemed grouch and his lovely assistant, after all." Brethyn has to turn around and shove the full force of his unimpressive body weight to get the door to shut behind him. A small swirl of snow sneaks in before he can get it shut, making the shop’s candles flicker violently in its wake. 

"And with this beautiful Windhelm weather, there is no better way to spend the evening than holing up like half-crystallized rabbits. Is it over-stepping my bounds to assume the usual hours of operation no longer apply in my case?" There’s a short string of hissed Dunmeris following his question as Brethyn realizes much of his thick outer coat is in some stage of frozen. He stomps his boots in the doorway, leaving his pack and coat on hooks so as to not trek water all over the floor. Nurelion would get on him for the rest of the night over that.

[quintusofwindhelm]

"Well, the, ah, esteemed grouch has just retired, but I doubt he'll be up there for long," Quintus replies, stifling a giggle as Brethyn glared daggers at the invading snowflakes. "No, normal business hours don't apply to you, and you're welcome to take my bed for the night instead of risking Candlehearth Hall." The sentiments needn't be spoken; Quintus was sure Brethyn knew he wouldn't let him even think of the Hall as an option, under any circumstance. Familiarity aside, it was becoming a deathwish for any Mer.

Quintus crosses in front of the counter and leans on it, trying his best not to eye Brethyn's half-frozen pack. "Hear anything interesting on your travels?" he began. "Or see anything knowing you... Do you hear about the war, ever? We don't get much news, here, actually. Well, no news from the -- hm -- other side of things." Their side of things. "Oh, did you ever follow up on that red nirnroot thing? Nurelion brought it up last time he was at the College, but they knew just as much as we did, much less seen one." He's talking a mile a minute, now, but there's so much to catch up on.

[quintusofwindhelm]

"Close up shop, will you, boy?" Quintus looked up to find his master, arms crossed and shoulders hunched, ascending the stairs. The young alchemist stoop upright and walked to the window. It was still relatively light out... He pointed this out, but Nurelion shook his head and coughed. "I'm not particularly feeling up to any more noisy customers," he grumbled as he started to go up the stairs again. "Take the rest of the light to work on your experiments, if you must." And with that, he retreated to his room.

Quintus hovered at the window, thinking this through. There was still an hour or so left of light in the day. Hours, where he was used to working in increments of until-Nurelion-gets-mad (which was approximately less than two minutes). If he could stay on task, he could get so much work done-- ...and someone was walking through the door, because he hadn't remembered to blow out the candle. "I'm sorry, sir, but we were about to clo-- Wait, Brethyn?" Quintus hadn't seen the healer in... In ages, it felt like. "Brethyn! When did you arrive in Windhelm?"