#helygen writes

[inquisition-dragonborn]

WIP Not Wednesday

Thank you for the prompt @paraparadigm. Tagging forward (I don't even know who is writing / arting these days...) @dafan7711 @midnightprelude @coldturkeyshivers

A bit from The Sleeping Dwemer's Guide to Tamriel

“You do not ask their intended use?” I continued to bundle the freshly cut stems of nightshade as I watched him from the corner of my eye. He gingerly prodded at a deep purple petal; cautiously, as if he was poked a dragon on the snout to see if it was sleeping or dead, and was preparing himself for the worst while hoping for the best. As one does. “You know these plants can be used to kill?” “They can also be used to help. It’s not my business to inquire. Here—“ I handed him a rag with a jerk of my chin toward the yellow pollen sticking to his fur. All parts of the nightshade were hazardous to the unwary and the last thing I needed was to find out that he poisoned himself. “An arrow can be used to feed or defend a family, or it can be used to harm. The fletcher doesn’t ask and neither do I.”

[paraparadigm]

A rough doodle of @inquisition-dragonborn‘s wonderful characters, Isana and Nildor, from her Skyrim story, The Sleeping Dwemer’s Guide to Tamriel. Thank you for letting me borrow them to practice my extremely rudimentary digital drawing skills, my friend :)

[inquisition-dragonborn]

Last Line Meme

Thank you for the tag @paraparadigm! A little bit from my next chapter of The Sleeping Dwemer's Guide to Tamriel.

Tagging @beckily @dafan7711 @elvensemi @ironbullsmissingeye @jarebear20 and whomever is writing these days—feel free to share if you like—whatever genre or fandom you find yourself in!

Do’Vasaasha paused as he entered the house and stared at my cat with a puzzled look on his face. At least, I thought that’s what the expression was, based on the few limited interactions I had had with Khajiit. Kara’s tail started to twitch with feline agitation as she stared back at him from her spot in the middle of the dining table. She let out a low growl and I looked at her with sudden concern. Did she think that the Khajiit in front of her was a predator looking to eat her? I moved closer to intervene. “I’m sorry, is it offensive to the Khajiit to… uh, keep house-cats?”

“No, particularly when this one can see how well you care for it. However, there is something you should know.” He pointed at Kara. “Your cat—”

Kara’s warning growl escalated into a loud yowl, interrupting him as effectively as the swat with her paw—claws fully extended—did. She took off like a shot out the open front door.

[inquisition-dragonborn]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Chapter 45: Wolves in Sheeps’ Clothing

Excerpt:

Gwen paced aggressively behind the sealed door of the ancient Elvhenen temple, grinding her teeth with fury. The unspoken words sat trapped in her throat like a molten Dwemer ingot, and the souls of the dragons she carried writhed with the same disappointment she felt. A golden opportunity; the chance she had been waiting for to fulfill her destiny and defeat Alduin, once and for all, only to be snatched away by those she called friend. 

She rolled her shoulders and neck in frustration at the recent memory of Bull slapping his hand over her mouth at Max’s order. How dare they interfere! Alduin was there before them and she could have… 

“FUS!” she shouted, sending broken masonry tumbling across the broken tiles of the temple floor to come to rest against the base of a stylized statue, female in form with dragon wings, that seemed to mock her failure. She felt a silent presence at her back and whirled around, raising and drawing her bow in one smooth motion as she did.

“Woah there, Rosy!” Varric stood his ground but calmly raised his hands at her threatening display. “I mean you no harm.” 

“I know you don’t, Varric,” she said, lowering the bow and relaxing the tension on the string. “I’m just a little… unsettled by… everything.” She rolled her shoulders again trying to alleviate the sensation of phantom wings that failed to materialize with the earlier interrupted shout.

He studied her silently as she paced. “Will you be able to go on?”

“VAHZAH,” she snapped, her eyes flashed and the thu’um rumbled softly just below her voice.

He cocked his head to the side and lift a brow in question.

She huffed and rolled her shoulders one more time. “Yes, Varric. I’m good,” she replied, calmly.

“At the risk of riling you up again, you know that none of us, least of all Max—or Tiny, for that matter—“ he snorted thinking how Bull had physically picked her up to run for the door, “have any desire to prevent you from taking out that dragon.“ He held his hand up to stall her rebuttal. “But Max made the right call. We were trapped in that valley surrounded by dead elves, dead Wardens, exploding bridges, Corypheus back on his feet, no cover, and no backup. With two dragons about to go tooth and claw, fire and blighted lyrium, right on top of the rest of us. I, for one, am glad that I’m not a dwarven-shaped smear on those stones outside.”

“I wouldn’t have let anything happen to any of you. I would have lured Alduin away.”

“You would have tried, Rosy, you would have tried. You have a protective streak as wide as a dragon’s wing and that twisted asshole would have used that against you. He would have commanded his pet dragon to make you sacrifice yourself to protect us.”

She pursed her lips and considered his words. He wasn’t wrong; Alduin’s soul might inhabit the dragon but he still did Corypheus’ bidding. That, in and of itself, gave her pause. It was all too likely that he wasn’t entirely in control. To be commanded in such a way by a joor, even a powerful sonaak, was beneath him. Paak. But there it was.

Continue reading Chapter 45 on Ao3 (link) or start from the beginning (link)

[inquisition-dragonborn]

WIP Wednesday

Tagged by the lovely @paraparadigm (consider yourself tagged right back 😉). I will also tag @beckily @rhunae @calwyne @ironbullsmissingeye and anyone else of my mutuals that might be writing, arting, or otherwise being creative these days!

I actually have writing to share! From a future chapter of The Sleeping Dwemer’s Guide to Tamriel (what can I say, I love the Khajiit):

Do’Vasaasha looked at Kara, who sat contentedly in the middle of the kitchen table, with a puzzled look on his face. At least, I thought that’s what the expression was, based on the few limited interactions I had had previously with Khajiit. Kara’s tail started to twitch in agitation. She let out a low growl and I looked at her with sudden concern. Did she think that the Khajiit in front of her was a predator looking to eat her or perhaps she was picking up on my guest’s discomfort? I moved closer to intervene. 

“I’m sorry, is it offensive to the Khajiit that we… uh, keep house-cats?”

“No, particularly when this one can see how well you care for it. However, there is something you should know.” He pointed at the cat. “Your cat—” 

Kara’s warning growl escalated into a loud yowl, interrupting him effectively, as much as the swat with her paw—claws fully extended—did. She took off like a shot out the open front door.

[inquisition-dragonborn]

First Line Memes

Thank you for the tag @paraparadigm. I'm going to post the first lines on the next chapter(s) I'm working on as well. Writing has been slow but I'm picking away at THREE of my stories!

From The Sleeping Dwemer's Guide to Tamriel (Skyrim)

There was a sharp hiss like a pressure cooker releasing its steam, followed by a whir; I immediately jerked my head away from the door as a puff of air whistled past my ear. I body-slammed the door, giving it a great shove to no avail. An odd crunching noise echoing from the darkness, not discrete footsteps but continuous, like something rolling across gravel, and it was getting louder and closer with alarming speed.

From Embrace Your Purpose (DA:I)

The crackle of the Anchor so close to Skyhold was the first clue that there was anything amiss.

From The Inquisition's Dragonborn (Skyrim x DA:I)

Gwen paced aggressively behind the sealed door of the ancient Elvhenen temple, grinding her teeth with fury. The unspoken words sat trapped in her throat like a molten Dwemer ingot, and the souls of the dragons she carried writhed with the same disappointment she felt. A golden opportunity; the chance she had been waiting for to fulfill her destiny and defeat Alduin, once and for all, only to be snatched away by those she called friends.

Don't know who's still writing these days but I'll tag @dafan7711 @beckily @cullenvhenan @elvensemi. No pressure to share! :)

[inquisition-dragonborn]

Summary: History has recorded that the Dwemer disappeared under mysterious circumstances many millennia ago. They were a resourceful people possessing wonderous technology, knowledge, and wealth, but at the pinnacle of their mastery over their world, they vanished entirely. Or did they?

This is the tale of the last Dwemer who awakens to find themselves in a far different world than they left.  

Excerpt:

My eyes were drawn to the merchant standing on a small podium, holding a rather garishly painted bottle up in the air. He fit the part of a merchant at first glance, but something about him rang false. His outward appearance was fitting with his trade: shoulder length hair tucked behind an ear, a day or two of stubble on his chin, a quilted long coat belted at the waist. All perfectly normal and consistent with what I had seen on countless other Nords, and even other merchants around the Riften market, except that it didn’t look right on him at all.

I think it was the coat that made me suspicious. Good quality cloth, but cut tight in the shoulders and the sleeves were a bit too short to cover his wrists; it looked like he might have filched it from someone’s clothesline instead of something that was made for him. He was certainly too old to have outgrown it.

And then there was the way he watched the crowd, eyes sharp and always moving, but certainly not with the intent to capture a customer based on they way he practically ignored the Dunmer that stood before him asking questions. His eyes caught on mine and I wasn’t flattered by the way he seemed to strip me bare in a heartbeat. I averted my own gaze and slipped passed his stand.

“Falmer blood elixir!” His voice rang out again. “Guaranteed to cure what ails you!”

I snorted. Yeah, snake oil salesman.

Continue reading on Ao3: archiveofourown.org/works/22816252/chapters/99371211 Or start at the beginning: archiveofourown.org/works/22816252/chapters/54525910  

[inquisition-dragonborn]

Summary: History has recorded that the Dwemer disappeared under mysterious circumstances many millennia ago. They were a resourceful people possessing wonderous technology, knowledge, and wealth, but at the pinnacle of their mastery over their world, they vanished entirely. Or did they? 

 This is the tale of the last Dwemer who awakens to find themselves in a far different world than they left.

Excerpt:

I woke to silence. Such a different silence than I was accustomed that it took me a few minutes to remember where I was. There were none of the undercurrents of other people going about their day as there had been at the College, none of the subterranean thrum as had been in Markarth, no rustling of the breeze through leaves and grass as when I had slept outdoors travelling between. Nothing but the silence of my wood and stone house nestled up against the mountain foothills; not even the crackle or settling of the fire I had laid the night before and neglected to bank before surrendering to my exhaustion.

I rolled away from my view of the wall to the open room. The sunlight slanted at a sharp angle through the front windows, creating a diffuse pattern of leaded diamonds upon the irregular stone flags. A sliver of light breached the window in the kitchen that faced south. Mid-morning then, at best.

Thud, thud.

I jerked upright at the unfamiliar noise and held my breath. It hadn’t come from someone knocking on the door.

Thud.

I slipped off the bed and grabbed the poker from the fireplace.

Thud.

I peered out the window then cautiously opened the door, poker at the ready, in case I had to defend myself.

Thud.

There was no one there.

No sign that anyone had arrived at the farm.

I pulled the door open and looked down the path that led back out to the road. There was no sign of anyone or anything. What the hell could be making that noise?

Continue reading on Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22816252/chapters/83842222 Or start at the beginning: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22816252/chapters/54525910