The Adventures of the Dovahkiin

Independent Breton Dovahkiin rp/ask blog. Post-main quest, will rp with any fandom. Karen Gillan FC. M!A: None. Current Quest: Figuring out the Thalmor's endgame.

[mordreddeschain]

The silence is only slightly awkward. She reminds herself that she hasn’t actually said anything out loud, but knowing that he can sense things from people doesn’t help. Seeing how the night goes, she supposes, is the best option. Worked out in Windhelm, that’s for sure.

Roxy fidgets with the jars above the kettle that hold her too-small collection of teas. It’s really uncomfortable to have Mordred starting like that. Should she say something else?

The silence doesn’t bother him, but his inability to comprehend the nature of the interaction is an irritant. It used to be that he didn’t care, and perhaps it was simpler then… but there are levels to moving throughout the worlds, spiritual levels and social levels and levels of comprehension, and his hunger for knowledge has only expanded to match.

He had to know how everything worked. Including people; that which he was [partly] made in the image of, for whatever purpose.

So he stares at Roxy as he circles her, brow intensely furrowed. She does things with her hands that seem to have no purpose, moving things that don’t need to be moved, avoiding his gaze. She who barely flinches when he shapeshifts mid-step, who’s seen him lustily devour all manner of Tamrielic wildlife – including the sentient kind – avoiding his gaze.

Strange.

“You hide something,” he accuses flatly. “I don’t like secrets.”

[roxykiin]

Shit. Mordred startles her enough to make her knock a nearly-empty jar off the shelf, and Roxy is positive whatever expression she’s wearing isn’t helping her case. “What? Secrets?”

Damn him for being able to see through her like that. “No secrets, just...” Was there any point in trying to be subtle? “I’m...drunk, and you’re...very pretty.” Charming. To the point.

[mordreddeschain]

It’s fascinating to watch Mordred interact with the world. Always acting like it’s the first time he’s been in her home, despite having spent many nights in the spare room. She could probably learn a bit about attention to her surroundings from it.

I’ll give you overpowering, she thinks, before she can stop herself. The flush isn’t unexpected, but with Mordred focused on the wall spider, she was hoping he wouldn’t notice. “I have to get more, but you can have the rest of it once I make my tea.”

A brief stillness settles over him as he communes with his fellow arachnid, as Roxy makes tea, and in the stillness he notices that something is nagging at the back of his awareness – something that is familiar and yet unknown.

He remembers <can calah> and <lady rose>, and the inn in snowy Windhelm. His brow furrows impatiently – he doesn’t know why he’s remembering that, or why it’s relevant now. Sometimes the connections his mind makes seem to be beyond his understanding, which is strange since nothing in one’s mind should be beyond the understanding of itself. –Right?

He leaves the spider alone and drifts around the room, squinting suspiciously at Roxy, trying to figure out the connection, trying to comprehend the charge in the air around her.

[roxykiin]

The silence is only slightly awkward. She reminds herself that she hasn’t actually said anything out loud, but knowing that he can sense things from people doesn’t help. Seeing how the night goes, she supposes, is the best option. Worked out in Windhelm, that’s for sure.

Roxy fidgets with the jars above the kettle that hold her too-small collection of teas. It’s really uncomfortable to have Mordred starting like that. Should she say something else?

[mordreddeschain]

Roxy notes that Mordred is still swayed by dovahzul, and is glad for it. Paarthurnax loved to talk about the language, it would hopefully keep Mordred from trying to eat him. “Akatosh, dragon god of time. You’d have to get to Aetherius to talk to him, but get in line. I have the first claim to questioning.”

She shoves the arrows back into her quiver, and thinks for a moment. It definitely wouldn’t kill him. But surely, he could be injured. And she’d injured Alduin enough, hadn’t she? “I don’t expect it to. But it’s a long way down and a long way back up.” She sighs, “Look, I get that eating things is your purpose. Don’t eat Paarthurnax. I’ll give you every Thalmor in Tamriel, just, leave him alone.”

“Think I can get to Aetherius before you.” Mordred is still in a taunting mood, and if this Aetherius is anything like the realms and in-betweens he’s already travelled, it’d probably be a piece of cake. Whether he’d be able to stay in it is another question, but there’s no need to mention that now. “Dragon god of time sounds like snake eating tail, anyway.” The image of a dragon eating its tail makes him grin toothily.

The fact that Roxy seems to care about whether this dragon of hers was eaten or not makes him even more curious. What does Paarthurnax have that is so important that he must remain whole? Probably something that Mordred would gain by devouring him. – Perhaps this is a lesson in playing with skill instead of force, a voice behind/inside him says idly, and although he doesn’t fully understand what that means, he knows he will not eat Paarthurnax this day. Maybe not ever, even, as unfathomable as it sounds now.

“Fine,” he says coolly, shrugging. “Will not eat your pet dragon. Yet.” He has to at least add on a yet. 

[roxykiin]

The time wound. She forgot about that, again. Should probably keep Mordred away from it, though she wasn’t sure if it would do anything without an elder scroll to activate it. “Well, keep the door open, then” It would be interesting to see who kicked him out first. But she would consider that when it came to it.

Snake eating tail. “My dear grandmother insists Akatosh is as mad as she is. You might be right.” Roxy shrugs, “Guess that’s what happens when you’re actually several versions of yourself at once.”

She makes to start back up the mountain, but pauses, “Odahviing is my pet dragon, not Paarthurnax.”

[mordreddeschain]

It doesn’t occur to Roxy, and might not for a while longer, that Mordred would have no context for her staring. That conversation would happen eventually.

“Lavender’s a flower. I’m pretty sure you’ve seen them, I just never pointed them out. I’m sure I have a few in here, they smell really nice.” There might be some in Zoe’s alchemy kit, but she doesn’t feel like checking. “They’re kind of sweet, nothing overpowering.”

Mordred sweeps his vivid eyes around the room, looking at everything as if it were new. People miss many things because they take for granted that their surroundings are familiar; Mordred has no such filter, and misses very little as a result. The downside is that he is easily distracted, if nothing spectacular is holding his attention.

“Not good enough. I want overpowering,” he counters matter-of-factly, walking his hand up the wall near the corner, a spindly white finger reaching out to send the tiniest ripple down the web of a spider hunkered high up in the corner. “Is there honey? Maybe I just eat that.”

[roxykiin]

It’s fascinating to watch Mordred interact with the world. Always acting like it’s the first time he’s been in her home, despite having spent many nights in the spare room. She could probably learn a bit about attention to her surroundings from it.

I’ll give you overpowering, she thinks, before she can stop herself. The flush isn’t unexpected, but with Mordred focused on the wall spider, she was hoping he wouldn’t notice. “I have to get more, but you can have the rest of it once I make my tea.”

[mordreddeschain]

He really was lovely when he was relaxed, and Roxy finds herself slightly disappointing that Mordred was starting to head back to his normal, intense state. There was time to appreciate his looks when he wasn’t staring through your soul. She’s staring, but is still too drunk to care. As far as she’s concerned, Mordred might be the prettiest person she’s ever seen.

She fumbles with her house key for a moment, but managed to unlock her home. “I think I have some lavender tea from back home left, there’s a berry tea, a mint one and a ginger tea. What sounds good to you?”

She’d been watching him. He knows it, but he doesn’t know what to do about it. At one point, he’d stared back, but that seemed to dissatisfy her. He wonders, briefly, if there’s something wrong with his face. Maybe he still had spider mandibles, or something.

He surreptitiously touches his face as she fumbles with the lock, but can’t feel anything amiss.

“What is a lavender?” He recognises berry, and mint sounds vaguely familiar, but lavender and ginger were completely alien concepts to him. Lavender is fun to say, though. He silently repeats it, his teeth raking his bottom lip slowly as he lingers on the V sound.

“Is it sweet? I want sweet.”

[roxykiin]

It doesn’t occur to Roxy, and might not for a while longer, that Mordred would have no context for her staring. That conversation would happen eventually.

“Lavender’s a flower. I’m pretty sure you’ve seen them, I just never pointed them out. I’m sure I have a few in here, they smell really nice.” There might be some in Zoe’s alchemy kit, but she doesn’t feel like checking. “They’re kind of sweet, nothing overpowering.”

[mordreddeschain]

“That’s pretty amazing,” Roxy had stumbled, but caught herself, though not terribly well. “And right now I really wish I could do that. Fucking ice.” There’s a cry from behind her, like someone had seen a particularly bad fear of theirs, and she turned slightly to see a very drunk Farkas fall on his ass. “Farkas! Don’t worry about it, you know this spider!” And a slightly slurred “alright!” was the response. “I’ll be surprised if he remembers that in the morning.”

She catches up, “No, it’s fine. I have an anti-drunk potion waiting for me at home. I also really want tea, did you want any?” They’re almost back to breezehome, and she’s glad for it. There’s a very large blanket, and very warm bed, with her name on it.

He thinks he can understand why people drink. There is a laziness in it, a lack of attention that gives power to spontaneous thoughts and impulses– a lack of care for what has come before and what has come after. It removes people from time, and it is time that doles out consequence, time that keeps the mill of cause and effect ever running. Drunk, one only knows of the present, of one’s most immediate desire and immediate fascination. Nothing else matters, and why should it?

Drunk people are easier for Mordred to understand. They operate on the hunger of a moment, and they don’t cage him into their systems of propriety and morality either. He’s seen the various hungers of many people tonight. But not Roxy’s, oddly enough. Didn’t she want anything?

“Fine,” he shrugs at the mention of tea. He finds he is craving sweetness. Maybe he’d nick a whole honeycomb to dump into it.

[roxykiin]

He really was lovely when he was relaxed, and Roxy finds herself slightly disappointing that Mordred was starting to head back to his normal, intense state. There was time to appreciate his looks when he wasn’t staring through your soul. She’s staring, but is still too drunk to care. As far as she’s concerned, Mordred might be the prettiest person she’s ever seen.

She fumbles with her house key for a moment, but managed to unlock her home. “I think I have some lavender tea from back home left, there’s a berry tea, a mint one and a ginger tea. What sounds good to you?”

[roxykiin]

@mordreddeschain :huh it’s really weird that i can’t sense what roxy’s metaphorical hunger is

roxy: ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

[roxykiin]

@mordreddeschain

She hadn’t expected that bringing Mordred to the Saturalia festivities would have gone badly. And wouldn’t you know it, she’d been right. A little awkward at times, but the people of Whiterun trusted her, and so they worked with it. “My slightly odd friend, Mordred” was enough description, with emphasis on friend.

And so, there was food, and mead, and conversations well into the night, and then there was more mead, and finally, closer to sunrise than sunset, Roxy had decided to head home. With slight difficulty; while she could hold her liquor as well as any nord, it was been snowing, and her balance was off. Mordred, inexplicably, was having no trouble at all, and in fact, was acting as though he hadn’t had anything to drink at all.

“Weren’t you matching me for drinks? How are you sober already?“

[mordreddeschain]

Stranger and stranger. Mordred does not think he’d ever adjust to Skyrim – to its cold, hard austerity, to its loud and boisterous people, to its patent weirdness (or wyrdness, as it were). Time moves strangely here, which is something he understands, and even more strangely for him; but it saw fit to stay still long enough for him to be dragged to what she called a Saturalia feast. Whatever that really meant.

From what he’d gathered, it meant food, and drink, and laughter, and grandstanding. It meant friendly scuffles and tables groaning with the weight of multiple courses and numerous toasts to everything from ale itself to not being drunk enough to think of a proper toast. It meant enough people plying Mordred with tankards of the stuff that intoxication made a whirling carousel of the hall and a drowsy-eyed lazy-smiled caricature of him.

That is, until he thought, all right, enough of this, and felt the boozy delirium drain from him like dirty bathwater.

That had been an interesting new development, and he’d tested it multiple times– each time, his body shifted itself to the state he requested, as simple as shifting form. Perhaps the two talents were related.

Mordred follows Roxy when she finishes with her merry-making, not attached enough to the rowdiness to protest. The snow is annoying to navigate, but it seems Roxy is having a bit more of a time with it than he is.

“Same way I do this,” he replies, taking his next step in spider form. By the following foot-fall, he is back to his more accustomed form. “Could drink again, if it makes you feel better.”

[roxykiin]

“That’s pretty amazing,” Roxy had stumbled, but caught herself, though not terribly well. “And right now I really wish I could do that. Fucking ice.” There’s a cry from behind her, like someone had seen a particularly bad fear of theirs, and she turned slightly to see a very drunk Farkas fall on his ass. “Farkas! Don’t worry about it, you know this spider!” And a slightly slurred “alright!” was the response. “I’ll be surprised if he remembers that in the morning.”

She catches up, “No, it’s fine. I have an anti-drunk potion waiting for me at home. I also really want tea, did you want any?” They’re almost back to breezehome, and she’s glad for it. There’s a very large blanket, and very warm bed, with her name on it.

[roxykiin]

@mordreddeschain

She hadn’t expected that bringing Mordred to the Saturalia festivities would have gone badly. And wouldn’t you know it, she’d been right. A little awkward at times, but the people of Whiterun trusted her, and so they worked with it. “My slightly odd friend, Mordred” was enough description, with emphasis on friend.

And so, there was food, and mead, and conversations well into the night, and then there was more mead, and finally, closer to sunrise than sunset, Roxy had decided to head home. With slight difficulty; while she could hold her liquor as well as any nord, it was been snowing, and her balance was off. Mordred, inexplicably, was having no trouble at all, and in fact, was acting as though he hadn’t had anything to drink at all.

“Weren’t you matching me for drinks? How are you sober already?“

[mordreddeschain]

"I know most of Whiterun does their gift-giving during the feast, but Zoe and I do ours Saturalia eve, so. Here."

He doesn’t really know what’s happening here, but a shiny wrapped box is being thrust at him, so he might as well take it.

He sniffs at it first, rattles it around, is unsatisfied; so he commences to opening– with hands and teeth, of course.

His confused expression remains as he gingerly lifts one dagger from the pair in the box, sniffing at the blade and then the hilt, then licking the hilt experimentally. There’s a taste, an arcane one, and it makes him shudder reflexively.

“Knife,” he assesses. “Magic knife. To kill with? Good.”

[roxykiin]

“Even mages need a physical weapon, as I keep telling Zoe,” Roxy smiles, “The purple runes are for Faas, it’s got a fear enchantment on it. The blue one is Strun, that’s a shock spell. Should get you out of any situation if you’re left high and dry without use of your magic. Or in general.” She shrugs, “Tomorrow we can go break them in on some Thalmor.”

[mordreddeschain]

Balgruuf says there's an open seat at the Saturalia feast if you're interested.

“Food? …Dragons?”

[roxykiin]

“Yes, and....my Dragons will be there.”

[blinkpen]

shapeshifting is the best super power because you can have any haircut any time you want, you can turn into a hotter version of yourself, you can turn into a dragon, you can turn into a robot, you can turn into a shambling mound of abstract shapes and sulk outside your estranged father’s house at night while chanting ominously about his sins,

[roxykiin]

((I’ve been thinking about @mordreddeschain since we saw Thor and I keep coming back to “spider-boy” and just how different it is between Roxy and her grandmother when they use it. Grandma’s is so mocking cause that’s just Sheo, and then Roxy’s is so full of like, affection, for this weird shapeshifter and it only grows as she becomes a god and man I did NOT think I’d be this invested in these two kids))

[mordreddeschain]

That spider shirt would look great on you

[roxykiin]

“What? You’re easy on the eyes, you can wear whatever you want!”

[yesterdaysprint]

Great Bend Tribune, Kansas, October 30, 1960

[roxykiin]

((I keep thinking about Roxy in the deadlights and it’s. so hard to articulate holy shit like

@mordreddeschain tells her enough to where she can figure out that’s where she is, but there’s no way to ever prepare for that, AND it’s mora that throws her into it so like

what the FUCK do i write here))

[mvidettephotos]