Skyshards

Indie TES-based multimuse penned by Inky; est. March 2020

[dragxnsfire]

{{Sorry about the long absence, everyone! I never meant to take such a long hiatus, and I’ll try to get around to writing replies tonight. If I owe you a reply on any of my blogs, hit the heart and I’ll make sure it’s in my drafts. Thank you all for sticking with me!}}

[leondxs]

@shardsofaetherius​ // @dragxnsfire​

there’s a valid reason leo wants to stay up high in the tree when he talks to king dynar

[shardsofaetherius]

leondxs​:

A chuckle sounded from the creature, followed by a wistful sigh. He lay stretched out upon his back, long locks delicately cascading off the side of his perch.

❝ Oh, the amount of times I’ve heard that excuse. ❞ he purred, nose twitching as he smelled of the other Mer’s scent once more. ❝ I’m sure you will taste delicious. You smell quite promising. ❞

His nose wrinkled slightly at the mention of Skyrim’s local clan. While he didn’t exactly despise Harkon and his flock, the two of them did not exactly see eye to eye. ❝ Not at all. I come from Valenwood, the Telboth clan. ❞ A potentially unwise admittance. The Telboth had remained elusive for centuries, scarcely known to any other than those who faced the horrors of their attacks. However, Leondas had no fear in telling his prey exactly who he was. He wasn’t going anywhere, after all.  ❝ I am their leader, in fact. ❞

His head canted to the side, twinkling eyes beaming down upon the other mer playfully. Had he a tail, it would have been swishing in anticipation. Though eager as he was, he was more than happy to give the other conversation before granting him his end. In fact, he quite enjoyed speaking to his prey.

❝ And what of you? I assume you are not a native to these lands either. ❞

He was silent for a moment, expression remaining impassive, even through the vampire’s cruel chuckle. The crownless king folded his hands behind his back, brows flicking up slightly at the speculation. “I can say with quite a lot of confidence you will not enjoy blood like mine,” he said with a short bow, “but you are welcome to try, I suppose.” 

“Valenwood?” He asked, rubbing his chin as he nodded slowly. “My family relocated to Valenwood after the fall of our city, but that was long ago. It is doubtful any survived so long, let alone would remember their ancestry.” He waved a hand, returning his pale gaze to the younger mer. “I have heard of your clan, these Telboth; I heard their name spoken by those vampires of Molag Bal’s orchard, and those being taken to the Halls of Torment.” He frowned at the question, head dipping for a moment as he considered the best answer. Thus far, most he had come into contact with had simply assumed he was an unusually tall Altmer; but it was only right to be honest with the mer, even if his like truly deserved no mercy. 

“As for your question, my young friend, I am not from this land at all,” he said, a small smile pulling one corner of his mouth. “I was raised in a region the Imperials call Nibenay, in Nenalata; but I have lived elsewhere, as well— Bisnensel, Balfiera… even in Meridia’s city in Coldharbor, for a time.” There was a glint in his eyes, but he did not elaborate on the subject. “May I ask, though, why speak to me? Do you wish to watch me squirm at the thought of my demise? To hear me beg for my life? I assure you, it will not happen.”

[gezelligheiid2]

@shardsofaetherius​ asked: “What were you thinking?!”  (From Belthan for Sulkan)

     The Dunmer fell to the ground unceremoniously, Drasunna pierced through its chest and into the soft layer of dust and stone. As life left the husk, flesh and bone turned to ash. Such was the fate of the Sixth House worshipers — ALMSIVI forgive the very thought of them. Drasunna still in hand, he dragged the blade through the ash pile, splitting the remains, to rest it at his side. With his left hand, he traced a triangle above his heart: Mother, Master, Magnus. Still expressionless, he glanced at the other mer from the corner of his eye,

     ❝ I was thinking of you. ❞

     Sulkan’s voice was terse, more so than he truly meant, though he said nothing further as he lifted his blade and rested it on his back. He stepped away to look down the hall, metal boots leaving deep prints in the soft layer of ash and dust.

     ❝ Now, if your work is finished, we’d best leave this place. ❞

[shardsofaetherius]

The elder mer stared at the display for a moment, his ears flicking back as he sheathed his own sword, shifting his shield on the weaker arm carefully. It was difficult to reconcile this young warrior with the memory of the little boy he would see when the lad’s Councilor father would visit his home to discuss whatever was needed for the protection and glory of the House. How often has he let the child pretend to wield one of his wooden practice blades, or tried to teach him the House’s principals— duty, gravity, piety. Sulkan displayed them in spades, though it was jarring for the former Ordinator to see them in practice from one so young. 

“Bah, you shouldn't have been thinking of me— that is how you will get yourself killed one day.” He approached the pile of dust, inspecting it half-heartedly, crimson eyes narrowing. “I am perfectly capable of handling myself in these wastes, and my current employer is far more forgiving than my last.” His ears flicked as he studied the blade on the boy’s back, guilt swelling in his chest. “Still, it is good to have company on this job.” He nodded slowly, shoulders dropping in something between melancholy and relief. “We may go, if you are ready as well.”

[shardsofaetherius]

malevolentnightshade​:

The Ambassador continued to give the other mer a stern and irritable look as he spoke before she turned and began heading towards the Blue Palace once more, not bothering to wait for her new “friend” to follow.

“Hmm. I am Elenwen Laemihre.” She replied curtly without even looking at Laloriaran. “First Emissary of the Thalmor and Ambassador to Skyrim.” Quite clearly she was attempting to impress upon the mer that he had not just happened upon some nobody. Usually she assumed that everyone had at least some idea of her status and who she was, but clearly this bumbling fool didn’t know much of anything. Anything of any relevance, anyway.

“Jarl Elisif’s court tends to be rather busy. You should probably keep your questions brief.” This wasn’t friendly advice from the Ambassador; this was her attempt to keep him from taking up too much of Elisif’s time, in case he managed to speak with her first. Elenwen did not have all day to wait around. There was a mounting stack of paperwork on her desk back at the Embassy that needed to be dealt with sooner rather than later.

The Ayleid frowned, his brows furrowing as she walked away. Surely the common expectations and manners of society, even one as boisterous and odd as the Nords hadn’t changed so much; still, perhaps it was better to avoid any problems before meeting this young jarl. 

He took quick, long strides to catch up with the woman, eyes flicking around every once in a while to take in the sights, sounds, and smells of the city as they passed-- the market vendors whose wares glinted in the midafternoon sun like one of Meidia’s prisms, the yeasty perfume of fresh-baked bread wafting from the bakeshop, the shout of a shopkeeper barking orders to the guards to follow a pint-sized sweetroll thief. Had fate been kinder, perhaps he would have escaped Coldharbor and been able to experience such lively surroundings for himself sooner, without his Prince’s bidding hanging over his shoulder. 

“An ambassador of the Thalmor?” he asked, closing his eyes, digging through half-foggy memories to his final days, “I heard of them-- of your organizaion-- when I was last in Coldharbor, but I was under the impression they served the Queen of Summerset.” He bobbed his head back and forth, glancing down at her for a moment. “I will try to be brief, but I believe she will be able to make time for me.”

[shardsofaetherius]

I’m making Belthan Sarandas a muse here. So yall better be ready for crab gang mercenary great grandpa u.u

[shardsofaetherius]

{{Give me your ESO muses, you cowards}}

[dalamusrex]

I don’t usually do this, but please reblog if you’re a TES roleplay blog. No activity requirement, because I’m not particularly “active” myself and can’t promise interaction any time soon, but I need more TES blogs on my dash. It’s so quiet and it’s bumming me out. I want to follow more TES people.

[shardsofaetherius]

portraitofhell‌:

“The Dwemer city is now Dwemer ruins; atop of which sits the Nordic settlement. Regardless, I could use the company,” Eros, with a beckoning gesture and a swift change to contemporary Cyrodiilic, spun on his heels and begun the journey back towards Markarth. 

The crunch of fallen leaves and twigs, the aromatic waft of pine, the afternoon warmth – were all soon to become vestiges of themselves, left behind as they strolled along back towards the grandly redecorated Dwemer ruins; renovated to fit Nordic means. As they walked, Eros thought fit to talk; it’d be a long, tense journey with little respite otherwise. 

“How has life treated you, in this era?” He kept on senses on guard even as words danced along his tongue; best that way, than to be overwhelmed by bandits or Reachmen. “You looked a bit – ruffled, when I first laid eyes on you.”

“Ah, of course,” he sighed, gazing up at the mountains, mottled with sparse patches of juniper and other shrub-bushes. “As I said, the world has changed much since my imprisonment. I heard from the guards in Coldharbour that the Dwemer had vanished, but I scarcely believed it.” He shook his head slowly, eyes falling to the path under his feet. Mice and rabbits skittered out of their way, over craggy granite boulders only to disappear into the tall, dry grass. 

A half-smile pulled at a corner of his mouth as he glanced down to the Nede. Even after all that had happened, the man had not forgotten all that had transpired eras ago-- the good nor the bad. He scoffed, tossing his head in frustration in the direction of the Forsworn encampment. “Well, thank those Bretons for our meeting-- the men who live in the hills. I’d barely set foot in their camp when their archers began firing arrows at me.” He gave an indignant snort. “I would have offered them gold for directions to the nearest settlement, but they seemed uninterested; and no one seems particularly convinced that I am-- was-- a king. Still, I have been merely trying to survive in this maddening new era.” 

The gentle perfume of pine and juniper faded as the pair left the sanctuary of the forest, out in the open hills of the Reach. In the distance, a tall stone gate loomed over a few old buildings. “But tell me... how long after we first met were you turned? It could not have been long.” 

[shardsofaetherius]

portraitofhell‌:

His smile bloomed into a knowing smirk, straightening his back and tightening the twine back around the satchel. “You do not know the amount of time I have spent trying to earn the critters’ trust. You have not lived in the shoes of a man who, if he stands too close to the carriage’s horse, he might nigh be trampled as they try to flee. Of course, not every animal possesses the sensitivity to react as such, but many… many do. I have learnt not to underestimate Nirn’s animals; perhaps you should learn the same.”

Eros tucked the satchel back into his pocket. “Here? In the wilds?” While he understood what lured Dynar to think such, he couldn’t help but find the very notion laughable. He chuckled, the sound short-lived but sprinkled with genuine mirth. “No. I serve as a healer in the city of Markarth. Up and out the forest, that way,” he pointed behind him, “and around the mountainous hills. I can show you, if you would like.”

He scoffed, waving a dismissive hand at the suggestion. “I do appreciate your long trials to gain their trust,” he began with a chuckle, “but I have encountered animals before, years ago. Had an old war horse; my children had a dog when they were young.” Hi smile faded as he brushed the excess dust from his knees. 

“I did not come across any towns while making my way into these woods,” he said with a shrug. “I simply believed you worked out here, in the wilderness, living in peace and assisting whatever travelers happen upon your doorstep.” He sighed, his eyes falling closed. “After so many centuries of war, it seems like a harmonious way to live.” 

With a huff, he shook himself from his reverie. Regrets would have to wait; night would fall quickly in this northern province, and for every nonviolent vampire, there were ten more of Molag Bal’s children who would tear him to shreds if they were able; and they seemed plentiful in this odd, turbulent era. He glanced upward in thought, a hand raising to rub his chin. “Markarth, you say? I remember it as one of the Dwemer cities, but if it is still living... perhaps it would be wise to seek shelter there for the night.” With a sharp nod, he folded his hands behind his back. “Very well. I will accompany you to Markarth.” 

[shardsofaetherius]

malevolentnightshade‌:

“Clearly…” The Ambassador half-muttered as she continued to glare at the stranger. Just behind her, one of her soldiers gave the newcomer an almost apologetic look. Elenwen had been in a foul mood for days now, snapping at anyone who so much as looked at her. Everyone at the Embassy knew why her short temper was in even shorter supply than usual, but no one ever mentioned it - or more accurately, him - within earshot of the Ambassador.

As the mer continued to blather on, Elenwen’s glare turned to exasperation. This strange mer was also looking to meet with Elisif? Ugh…

“If you must,” She started through gritted teeth. “I am also on my way to the Blue Palace. I presume, at least, that by kinlord you mean Elisif, yes?”

With a small smile and a raised hand, he tried to reassure the apologetic soldier; he had, after all, dealt with far pricklier types during his many years as a king-- such was the nature of diplomacy. She likely thought him some old fool of a mer, not entirely inaccurate, given his lack of information in this new era. Still, she had not given him any reason to be truly unpleasant. Yet. 

His ears flicked as a brow quirked upward. “Ah, forgive me; I am going to see the Kinlady. Elisif, you say? I suppose it stands to reason they would give the office to one of the local citizenry.”

“I have been lost in these woods for some time--” Not technically a lie-- “and simply seek answers about the current situation. From what I understand of my Lady’s instruction, there are forces on Nirn who would see the Towers destroyed; naturally, we cannot allow that to happen.” He nodded to her, eyes closing briefly. “I am sure the Direnni feel the same. But forgive my manners. I am Laloriaran Dynar. And you are?” 

[shardsofaetherius]

portraitofhell‌:  

You understand nothing, Eros’ mind reflexively hissed. Though his thoughts lashed this way and that, he managed to quell any outward suggestion of retaliation, maintaining a calm, aloof air. He continued to listen. The internal bristling relaxed slowly at the topic change.

“As soon as I smelled someone touched by Meridia, I braced myself. To run or to fight; I have done both before in the face of her followers. I am– glad you are more reasonable.” Another soft smile. His gaze flicked down towards the small bird, who continued to hop around. The smile broadened oh-so slightly. “Hrm? You must remember me too.”

From the pocket of his black trousers, he plucked a small, burlap sack, pinched at the top with interweaving stripped fabric. Pulling it free, a hand dipped within and scooped a small palm’s worth of crumbs, scattering it a bit in front of him.

The bird immediately scooted closer. It pecked and pecked and pecked. Several other birds flew down, alighting upon the dirt and joining their feathery brethren amid the feast.

“… Animals know to avoid me. They have better senses of auras, especially auras outside of this plane, than mortals do. So I have found ways to bring them back to me.” While Eros wasn’t fond of most animals, especially the bigger ones like horses, wolves, deer, even dogs, but small ones? Like birds and rabbits? Them he didn’t mind. He dare say he enjoyed their presence.

A quick, cool breeze brushed over his cheek as he looked down to watch the bird, a small smile quirking his lips as he knelt slowly, remaining several paces from the birds. “Yes,” he hummed. “I have spent centuries, now, with those Aurorans. If there were ever an ill-tempered lot-- one not belonging to Dagon or Molag Bal-- it would be them. Besides, I do not believe a healer is the cause of this province's vampire dilemma. What would the Bretons say? When it rains, it pours?” He chuckled and shook his head. “What an odd phrase.” 

“It is strange,” he hummed, eyes falling half-shut as he watched the little creature hop from bit to delicious bit in the dirt, “in my many years in Coldharbor, I did not see a single animal. Oh, there were clannfear, banekin, daedroth and ogrim, but no animals.” He pushed himself up to stand a bit closer to the Nede, still watching the little bird peck the crumbs. “They do not know any better; they seem quite content to accept your crumbs as they would anyone else’s.” 

His smile fell as his eyes shifted to the mid-afternoon sun; the cool wind, as pleasant as it was, served as a reminder that he was, he presumed, still far from any settlements, and had nowhere to spend the night. “Do you serve as a healer here, in the wilds? Or is there some larger town in this area? I have not traveled this land in millennia, and it seems as though much has changed.”

[shardsofaetherius]

portraitofhell‌:

A quiet lad, but one with a good heart.

Yes. He was quite quiet, wasn’t he? His heart, however… Even then, he didn’t know if his heart was good. It had been beaten, shaken, tormented – could a heart still be good if it was barely beating?

“I am a vampire,” Eros said flatly. “Pureblooded, but even still, my transformation was not of my whole volition. My family were – followers of Bal. It was either follow my father’s whim or die fighting it. I saw little choice, being as young and frail as I was.” He inhaled deep through nares, swelling his chest. Talking about his past, when he hadn’t for so long – it stirred emotions within. Emotions that were, ultimately, unwelcome and undesired; but alas. He had to – it was difficult not to, in this circumstance.

His violet gaze turned downcast, watching a small bird alight some paces away from the duo. It jumped along dirt and twigs, beady eyes constantly peering between them and ground; the latter in a bid to find any delicious, buried goods.

“As for what I do here… I am a healer. Embalmer, occasionally, but the Nordic people have always been sticklers for tradition.” A small smile unfurled and he resumed staring at Dynar, watching for any sudden movements. “The people see me as a prodigy, but little do they know that title is the least appropriate for me.” A pause. “As for you, I can smell you are of Meridia. I have met those touched by her on more than one occasion. What does she want of you, here?”

The mer frowned, grey brows furrowing once more as he shook his head. He’d heard of some Nedes worshiping Molag Bal-- whether to gain power over their former masters, because it was all they knew-- but it was certainly not the norm. He pursed his lips, eyes following the little bird as it scratched and pecked at the seemingly bare earth.”That is quite a shame,” he said quietly, eyes turning back to Eros. “I should have guessed: your aura is different than I would have expected of a Nede-- a distinct aura of Coldharbor.” He shuddered as he spoke the name of Molag Bal’s realm, where he had languished, imprisoned for centuries. “I understand, though, why you chose to turn. The Prince of Brutality’s followers are not known for their gentle ways.”

A hand raised to sheild his eyes from the quickly retreating afternoon sun, drawing in a deep breath. How long had it been since he truly enjoyed a warm afternoon such as this? Still, he could not relax, not truly; Eros seemed unlikely to attack, but if the vampire thought he was being threatened--

“A healer?” he asked finally, ears flicking as he smiled down at the younger man. Given what little he knew of the other, it seemed like an apt profession, with his quiet, if solitary manner. “A noble pursuit, and difficult, if my understanding of this era is correct.” He hummed once more, closing his eyes as he brought a hand to his chin. The Ayleid was quiet for a moment, only nodding to the question. “My Lady has been... elusive on my purpose, though I have little doubt that it has to do with the various calamities befalling Nirn; she needs an agent to assist those who would prevent the destruction of the Towers. I assume that is why I am here.”   

[shardsofaetherius]

portraitofhell‌:

Eros was quick to analyse any and all fallout. There was no hostility in Dynar’s body language, though that meant little in the long run. Eros had to keep his wits close to him and to not allow himself to fall prey to nonchalance lest he be punished with a swift death.

“My full name is Erosandros Dunamis,” it had been too long since he had last disclosed his full name to anyone; the title felt heavy, clumsy on his tongue, “though nowadays I go simply by Eros. My family, the Dunamis’, were a group that rose from the ashes of the Nedic uprising and who earned their living through making wine. My… mother, she mentioned that I had met you as a child, though I cannot recall that far back. I do, however, recall seeing you on your trips to visit Emperor Belharza.”

A twisting, playful smirk formed upon thick lips.

“It has been far too long since I have last met someone older than I.”

Even as his world twisted and spun around him, the soft breeze and chittering of small animals continued, not caring to notice the Ayleid or the Nede. The king-- former king-- allowed him to relax further, shifting to a more comfortable stance, folding his arms behind his back; the vampire, Eros, seemed to have little interest in harming another. As the man spoke his name, there was a spark of familarity: he had often noticed it in the Nede’s odd alphabet printed so neatly on bottles of fine wine in the Emperor’s larder and on his feasting table. “The name is familiar,” he hummed with a nod. “I do remember meeting a pair of vintners with a child who looked quite a lot like you, but yes... you were just outside the Temple of-- the White-Gold Tower.” He closed his eyes, nodding once more as he dug through murky, old memory. “You reminded me of one of my sons... a quiet lad, but one with a good heart.” 

Laloriaran opened his eyes once more, looking down at the man. He turned his head with a soft chuckle. “Indeed, I imagine so; I have not yet met anyone who remembers me-- nor have heard of me. It is a welcome surprise.” He cleared his throat, glancing back toward the camp of Reachmen just over the rocky knoll beyond the tree line. “What is a surprise, however, is seeing you like-- like this. What is it that you do here, in this era?”

[shardsofaetherius]

portraitofhell‌:

That voice –

… Erosandros watched on amid others. He was short, but thankfully many weren’t obnoxiously gifted in the vertical sense of the word. A mer – tall, dark, wearing garbs that weren’t much unlike what their oppressors wielded – strolled on towards their Emperor, son of Queen Alessia. Alessia, they called her; though this name wasn’t what was bestowed in her mother’s birth throes, it was what she was deemed nevertheless. She was the one who merged the Nede people into a collective weapon against their oppressors, to take back what was rightfully theirs: their right for life, for freedom.

Erosandros heard this mer’s voice. Upper baritone it was, very classy and formal. How he expressed his pleasure to be in the Emperor’s presence, how he complimented him and the Nede people, but Erosandros could still feel a twinge of unrest in him at the mere sight of an Ayleid in their city…

– Eros knew that voice. He couldn’t help but find a chuckle peep from behind closed lips, spurring his shoulders to shake.

He couldn’t believe it. He really couldn’t.

What a world.

“Dynar,” he chirped, far more chipper than his usual tonal inflection or lack thereof. His next words were in Ancient Cyrodiilic, though corrupted in part by the eons of being enslaved by Ayleids and their native tongue, Ayleidoon, “how unusual it is to see you here, again.”

His heart seemed to catch in his throat as he looked upon the Nede; something about the man-- young though he looked even in spite of the many, many eons that had passed since the fateful, early years of the Empire-- seemed so familiar, though no members of Alessia’s family had been infected with Molag Bal’s vile curse, to his knowledge. Perhaps, perhaps he had been present one of the many times Dynar had visited the fledgling Imperial City, the old ancestral temple, where Umaril himself had fallen. 

His hair had been darker then; his bronze skin not so worn with age. Laloriaran Dynar was chosen to represent the kingdoms who had defied the Ayleid demi-god, among them Nenalata, Talwinque, and Atatar for his shrewd mastery of strategy, and for his level-headed demeanor, both necessary in ensuring peace with the former slaves of the Ayleids. The mer had gazed over the crowds of Nedes who had gathered to watch him arrive, to once again pay tribute to the young Emperor, to bend the knee as commanded of a vassal kingdom, and to be on his way; after all, there was much to rebuild in the wake of the war; those cities who once worshiped the Lord of Domination had not been kind in their counter attacks. 

A small young man peered from under the crowd; Laloriaran had seen him only briefly, but his shy demeanor reminded him so of his youngest son. He gave the lad a small smile, a bow of his crowned head, before making his way into the tower. 

Was this--? 

He swallowed the knot in his throat and stepped further into the clearing, hands hanging open at his side to show no ill will. “Yes, Laloriaran Dynar, at your service,” he said with a small smile, a short bow. It was a relief, in a way, to speak an old, familiar language. “I have not yet met someone in this era who recognizes me. It is refreshing, in a way; but I do not know you.” He chuckled, a bit of a nervous twitter in the sound. “It has been many years. Tell me, what is your name? Have we met?” 

[cythrea]

"I DON'T LIKE TO DOZE BY THE FIRE." / @shardsofaetherius (dynar)

---------------

FULL LIPS, SOFT, FLUSH; pulled back to smile at him in that loving sort of way that almost seemed real. eyes like fiery topaz looked him over, cautiously, greedily, as she louged on her side behind the flames. a strange look overtook her with the heavy shadows of the campfire light & setting dusk. it almost made her look menacing yet mystic. godly.

she would call no one friend until they earned it, & he did not earn it as of yet. so may she prey upon him, like snakes do, slowly devouring him whole & live. if he wasn't careful, that is. though the woman may appear soft & beautiful, there was a coiling beast 'neath those starry eyes. watching, waiting, longing.

"AH, BUT WHERE ELSE WOULD YOU LIE, KING DYNAR? THERE AREN'T ANY TOWNS FOR A GOOD DAYS TRAVEL & I WOULD KNOW. THIS IS MY HOME AFTER ALL."

[shardsofaetherius]

The old King sighed as he gave the young Chimer a short bow. The warmth of the fire was inviting, true, but he would have to begin his return to his family sooner or later-- preferably sooner. “You are generous, but I must begin my journey home,” he said, folding his hands behind his back. “I came seeking aid for my people, but I do not believe House Indoril will agree. Their-- Council, I believe they call themselves?-- is debating it at the moment, but they did not seem impressed with my case.” He shook his head slowly. “Such is the nature of diplomacy-- not that I blame them for wishing to avoid the wrath of the empire of men.”

Laloriaran shifted on his feet, pale eyes flicking down to the dancing fire. “I worry for my family when I am away... though I am sure the worry for me in turn,” he said with a soft chuckle before turning to the young woman lounging before the fire. She was so young, yet already she carried herself with an air of power not even his wife had dared mantle. “But tell me, do you have any family?”

[portraitofhell]

@shardsofaetherius​ / Dynar

A walk. A walk was what Eros had decided upon this warm, but ultimately blasé, afternoon. Gingerly hooking a sign off the doorknob to his clinic – and deeply wishing that no juveniles thought fit to steal it in his absence – that detailed his momentary departure, Eros set off.

The forest was a short ways from the heart of Markarth. Interloped with hills that sought to kiss the clouds above, Eros managed to weave around the mountainous structures in his bid to delve into forestry depths. 

Upon arrival, he took a greedy helping of air through nares, feeling it fill his lungs, swell his chest. Upon the forest floor so woven with ancient tree roots and prickles of grass and stone came a light filtered by the bouquet of foliage above: softened, verdant, and freshly aromatic. The dabbles of light warmed olive skin, though the intermingling shadows made sure that that warmth didn’t overstay its welcome.

A rustle. He smelled a small mammal, and his nose proved right. A scurrying rabbit flew on past, the faint pitter-patter of paws that was as quickly here as it was gone. A small, tentative smile curled the corners of Eros’ lips.

Another rustle. Another smell.

One that made him stiffen.

Daedric. Not as powerful as a Prince bestowing him with their presence, but nothing to turn one’s nose up at either. Eros turned heel to face the approaching individual, violet eyes sharp and piercing. He took in the other’s whole being, gauging for any malice or ill-intent.

There was something so strangely familiar about the mer.

“Greetings,” he said, his words wielded with a gentle sharpness to them. Nothing so overt as to repulse the mer away from him, but something that was willing to turn dangerous if the other did too. “Beautiful day out, is it not?” Eros gestured widely, openly, hoping to instil a welcoming air.

It hit him, then. The scent. 

Meridia. 

Ah.

[shardsofaetherius]

The world was so different in this new era; it often seemed as though Nirn itself had collapesed upon itself and reformed into an odd, unfamiliar ghost of itself in his absence. Though, he had to admit, he had lost his way the last time he traveled the Reach as well-- damn the Reachmen and their Reach-hedge-magic; he’d barely stepped a foot in their camp before a hail of arrows and crows sent him bolting in the opposite direction. He tore away from the camp with unexpected speed, given his height and age. Over a small creek, scrambling up the rocky hills toward the nearby wood, his refuge against the still swarm of crows.

The old Ayleid finally slowed his pace when he reached a small clearing, reeling forward to rest his hands on his knees, drinking in the juniper and pine-perfumed air. A hand ran over his brow as he shook his head slowly, righting himself with a groan. “By the Radiant Lady, that was... unintelligent,” he grumbled to himself, brushing a hand over his armor. His ears flicked as he tried to re-orient himself in the forest, brows knitting as he looked around. To his surprise there was a single aura in the distance, a vampiric presence that set the new bit of his mind connected to his Prince on edge. He began to take a step back, but stopped. There was something ancient, something forgotten in this aura. His curiosity piqued, he made his way slowly, gingerly toward the aura. 

His jaw hung open when he finally caught sight of the man-- a Nede. Guilt twisted in his stomach, but if this Nedic vampire were a local.... perhaps he would be able to direct him back to the road without recognizing the king. With a quick breath, Dynar stepped into the clearing, giving the man a deep bow. “Greetings to you, sir,” he said before righting himself, pale eyes meeting violet. “It is a rather nice day, is it not? I must admit, I am surprised to see another so far from civilization.”