#mxrcer

[marshfirc]

'Don't...' - from mxrcer because he's lazy as HELL.

Abandon lizard mom B)

     — She could swear her heart skipped a beat.

     “𝔑o–” No no no no no no no no no no…

     He was kidding, right? He had to be kidding, right?

     “𝔐erc, please– Don’t– don’t abandon me–” Are those tears in her eyes? Is that a crack in her voice? Are her shoulders shaking from sobs that have yet to leave her chest? The answer is yes. “𝔜ou– you can’t be serious. I– I can’t– You can’t just leave–”

     “𝓘’m leaving.” The statement is filled with a venom she’d only hear a few times before. But it had never been directed at her - not until now. “𝔗hat’s the end of it. I’m packing up & I’m leaving everything behind.”

     “𝔐ercer–”

     “𝔈ven you.”

     A pause from them both, only broken by the Argonian’s sobs as they finally break to the surface.

     Her whole world has come crashing down around her in the blink of an eye. Why’d he come all the way out here, to her home, to tell her this? He easily could have had a courier deliver a letter to her after he’d left, & it would have been less painful. “𝔚hy’d you even bother saying it to my face? If you wanted to leave so badly, you would have been gone already. I know you, Merc– I know you hate sentimentalities. I know you hate confronting people face-to-face like this. So why–” a pause as another sob escapes her throat– “𝔴hy come all the way here and tell me?”

     He goes eerily quiet for a long, long time; the room was so devoid of sound that you could hear their racing hearts from three feet away. When he finally does speak, he averts his gaze, an almost dejected look crossing his face.

     “𝔅ecause I care enough to be straightforward with you, that’s why. You’re the only one I’ve told - not even the Guild knows.”

     “𝔖o you’re just going to leave them leaderless–”

     “𝔑o.” He cuts her off mid-sentence, gaze snapping up towards her once more. “𝓘 want you to take over my leadership. I know you’ll bring the Guild back to its former glory.”

     “𝓗ow am I supposed to do that when you’ve got the Skeleton Key–”

     “𝓘’ve got it right here.” Again, he cuts her off, reaching into his pocket and producing the Daedric artifact. He stares at it longingly, reluctant to give it to her, but he passes it in her direction anyways. “𝔗ake that back to the Sepulcher, back to where it belongs. The Guild’s luck will be restored, & you can make a name for them again.”

     Elona just stared at him for the longest time, the Key gripped tightly in one hand while the other clutched at her tunic. She feels like she’s going to collapse; her head is swimming, her vision is blurry.

     It’s only when Mercer shifts that she focuses back on him, watching as he removed his Amulet of Articulation from around his neck. “𝓘 want you to have this, too. Where I’m going, I won’t be needing it.”

     He steps forward, amulet in hand, & puts it around her neck. As he steps away, she immediately wraps her arms around him & pulls him into an embrace. Her previously (relatively) under control sobs have now been allowed to break through completely. She hugs him so tightly that he’s afraid she’ll choke him to death.

     “𝔐ercer please, don’t go. I– I can’t– I need you, I– I love you, Merc. I love you, gods damn it. Don’t leave me behind, please–!”

     For a while, the Breton stands there, completely taken aback by her words. He does finally manage to pull away from the embrace, scowling despite the pained look in his eyes.

     “𝓘 have to. I wish you would understand, Elona. I have to leave Skyrim. If Karliah’s made a reappearance, I’m in danger. That little Khajiit is already on her side. I’ve seen Athena fight, & I’m sure that’s an encounter I wouldn’t survive. I have to get out of here before it’s too late.” He has to look away again, fighting back tears of his own now. “𝔅ut I’ll be sure to write you, okay? I’ll make sure the messages are delivered here so nobody else will find them.”

     “… 𝔅e careful, okay? Don’t do anything stupid out there.”

     “𝓘 won’t. I promise.”

     Hiccuping, the Argonian manages a weak smile, to which Mercer flashes an equally weak one in response. Very gently, he presses his lips to the end of her snout; in turn, she nuzzles his cheek. Then he takes his leave, exiting the house without another word.

     It’s been a week, & his first letter has arrived.

     Only seven words are scrawled upon it in messy handwriting.

     I love you, & I miss you.

[marshfirc]

❛ Heard it was your birthday today... ❜

     “— 𝔄ye, that it is. How’d you find out?” The question is posed as she straightens from her work, potion ingredients temporarily forgotten on the Alchemy table.

[marshfirc]

i fuckin logged into him to send you 'bite me' LOVE ME

Sinner’s Meme: Drabble Edition || accepting!

     — She shouldn’t be grinning this much, & yet here she is with a huge smile on her face. How she’d managed to sneak up behind him while the Cistern was buzzing had been a miracle in & of itself. But the fact that he hadn’t noticed her approaching made this all the better.

     He’s bent forward slightly, his palms resting atop his desk as he stares down at the ledger perched there. She slides silently in behind him, leaning forward herself until their bodies have almost made contact. & then she reaches around to place her hands on top of his, taking note of how his head rises ever so slightly at the sudden contact.

     “𝔈lona,” he snorts, though he doesn’t turn to look at her. “𝓘‘m busy. What do you want?”

     Instead of giving him an answer, she simply lets out a soft hum. A sigh of frustration comes from the Breton, who goes back to his work. He manages to ignore her presence, despite her scaled palms resting atop his own hands.

     But the moment he feels her breath against his neck, he clenches his fists. “𝔚hat are you–”

     He doesn’t get the chance to finish his question before rough, scaled lips meet the flesh on his neck. His body tenses at the contact; he’s not sure if he wants to tear away, yell at her, or do both.

     His indecisiveness cost him greatly - in the next moment, teeth are nibbling at the exposed skin. He tenses even more, an almost inaudible whimper escaping his throat. He can feel the heat rising into his face, staining his cheeks a light shade of red as she continues to nip at his neck. He can’t help the chill that runs up his spine; despite it, he’s still scowling, making it look like he’s not enjoying this in the slightest. (But he is enjoying it - a lot. If only they were alone.)

     After a time she pulls away, admiring the small bruise that she left in her wake. She rests her head on his shoulder, removing her hands from his & wrapping them around his torso. “𝓒ome & find me later, Merc, & we can fix this problem of yours,” she coos. As she releases her hold on him, she takes her teeth to the lobe of his ear, briefly, watching him shiver in response. Then she turns & takes her leave, look all too pleased with herself.

[scalebreaking-blog]

While it is not usually her style, Valin is capable of moving about quietly, when she wants to. And quiet as a mouse does she slip into a den of thieves. The guildmaster’s cart load of valuables that he had been so concerned about stacked in a haphazard pile by his desk. The woman behind the delivery passing through doorways like a shadow to slide onto the very stool she had left at the bar not even a day before. Arm reaching over the counter to help herself to an early morning drink just as the sun started to brighten the sky.

She had stayed true to her word, held up her end of the bargain despite all his doubts. Now all there was left to do was sit here and wait for Mercer to appear and give her what she was owed. 

[marshfirc]

AMUSE ME. wiggles butt

MASTER POST OF ALL DRABBLES || accepting!

Amuse Me: I will write a funny drabble about my character trying to cheer yours up.

     — She’ll admit, she’s grateful that he’s okay. He’s still alive, & that all she could have asked for.

     When he first showed up at her doorstep, drenched in water & covered in cuts & bruises from the fight in Irkngthand, she thought she’d lost her mind. Athena even said herself that Mercer was dead, & that they’d managed to retrieve the Eyes of the Falmer as well as the Skeleton Key. News travels fast in Skyrim, so Elona was grief-stricken when she’d caught word of it.

     But he’s safe now; he’s here with her, alive & in one piece because she’d started tending to his wounds the minute he walked in the door. It’s been a few weeks since he’d arrived here, at her home in Falkreath: his wounds have healed, but he’s suffering from withdrawals since the Key was taken from him. His mood has been even more sour that usual, & no matter what she tried, she couldn’t even get a forced smile out of him.

     Tirdas. Twenty-eighth of Last Seed, 4E 202. It had started out like any normal day would have - Elona was up at the crack of dawn, fixing breakfast for herself and Mercer (that man ate more than she ever did). When she took it to him, setting it upon the table, he just stared at it for a while like he always did. Despite the fact that his hands weren’t placed upon the table, the Mage could tell that they were shaking. Less so than they had been when he first got here, but still enough for it to be noticeable.

     Once breakfast is over (& Mercer has reluctantly eaten everything placed in front of him), Elona heads outside to harvest some of her flowers. The Argonian had taken to growing some of her own alchemy ingredients in a little garden just off the side of her house (anything that needed a dark, damp place was being grown in the cellar); once she’s collected a fair amount, she heads back inside to make some potions out of them.

     The plants are collected in a small basket, which is held only by the ends of her fingers. She’d never worried about dropping them: Elona was always very careful when it came to her alchemy ingredients. She heads into her bedroom, where the smell of incense & potions brewed yesterday still clings to the walls. Three steps in & she trips over a loose chair leg, stumbling a bit before hitting the floor. Her flowers go skittering across the room &, with a few choice words muttered under her breath, the Mage sets about to collecting them once more.

     She’s awkwardly crawling across the floor of her room, basket clenched in one hand as she goes. Grab a plant, put it in the basket: this goes on for about five minutes before she’s sure she’s gotten everything. & through all of this, she’s been unaware of Mercer sitting at the table in the corner, a smile spread across his face. He’d not pushed the chair in front of her, but he still found it funny that she’d tripped over it to begin with.

     Straightening herself, Elona heads over to her Alchemy Lab, setting the basket of ingredients upon it before turning back around to make sure that she did get everything. Icy eyes scan across the floor three, four, five times even, before she’s satisfied. But much to her dismay, she’d smashed a lavender stalk - & now her shirt is stained purple. More curses muttered absently before she hears it. Had the room not been dead silent, she was sure she would have missed the little snort that came from the corner.

     Her gaze snaps upwards, & she spies Mercer at the table trying his hardest to not laugh. & so she narrows her eyes, grabs a separate lavender stalk & waves it in his direction. “𝔇on’t you dare laugh, or I’ll dye your hair with it!” she threatened, shaking the lavender furiously at him.

[marshfirc]

"don't walk away."

three word starters || accepting!

     — She stops mid-step, if only for a moment, to turn & face Mercer once more. “𝔚hat ELSE am I supposed to do?” she snapped in response, fighting down the lump in her throat. “𝔜ou refuse to listen to reason. Going to Irkngthand alone is a bad idea, Mercer – why don’t you understand that?!” There’s a FIREBALL burning in one of her clenched fists, & she’s on the verge of throwing it at the Breton. But instead she turns back around, strikes off for the front door: she needs fresh air to help clear her head. She pauses when she gets there, suddenly whipping around & throwing the readied spell. It zooms past Mercer’s head (& he flinches away), hitting one of the practice dummies on the far wall & causing the whole thing to erupt into flames.

     “𝓘 can’t risk losing you, Mercer. You’re all I’ve got left.”

[marshfirc]

"Oh, come here. You need a hug."

Fluffy rp Starters || accepting!

     “— 𝓘’m FINE.”

     She’d dried her tears some time ago, though her cheeks were still stained even long after her sobs had gone. & despite her best efforts, he’d noticed; he’d tried to console her, tried to make sure that she’d be all right. & she will be: she just needs time to process what happened.

     The Argonian had never trusted Ancano - something about the Thalmor agent hadn’t settled right with her. If she’d only spoken up, everything could have been avoided.

     “𝓘 should have SAID something. If I’d have acted on my instinct, Savos would still be alive–” & the tears begin anew, though she manages to stop them from staining her cheeks further. Suddenly the thought of being in Mercer’s arms is more appealing than sitting by herself, leaving her mind to haunt her.

     Elona gets to her feet, striding quickly across the room & almost THROWING herself at her friend. Her arms wrap around his neck, & his, in turn, snake across her back to hold her close. & she cries again, unable to hold back the tears any longer.

     “𝓘t’s not your fault,” the Breton murmurs, his chin resting upon her shoulder. “𝔗here was no way you could have known.” Not that he cares what happens to the College, really.

     But to see Elona in this much pain makes him reconsider, if only for this moment.

[marshfirc]

❄ HI

Send ❄ for our muses to be stuck in a cabin while a large winter storm is raging outside. || accepting!

     — The weather in Winterhold never USUALLY got this bad. But honestly, she should have seen the blizzard coming. They’d been long overdue for a bad winter storm; unfortunately, she & Mercer had been caught in the middle of it. There’s a little shack just off the road that’s long been abandoned, so they decide to seek shelter inside. There was NO WAY they could make it to Riften in this weather: all they could do was wait for the storm to blow over.

     As they duck into the safety of the shack, Mercer fights to get the door shut while Elona looks for something to put in front of it. Luckily, there’s a DRESSER nearby; once Mercer gets the door closed, Elona shoves the dresser towards it, cringing slightly at the sound of its legs scraping across the wooden floor. Both of them slump onto the floor, shivering so badly that their teeth are clicking together. The cold normally wouldn’t have been a problem for the Mage, either, but this winter was colder than most.

     They needed heat, & fast, or they’d risk freezing to death. There’s some straw, a few logs, some random stones, & a bit of snow back in one corner. Elona opts to leave Mercer’s side for a moment to set up an impromptu fire pit. Once everything is set up appropriately, she lights it with one of her spells, beckoning the Breton over with one hand while grabbing some spare fur cloaks with the other.

     “𝔚e’ll have to huddle together to stay warm. Hopefully the storm will have gone by morning.”

     “𝓘 hope you’re right,” he snorts, sitting as close to the fire as he dares. Elona takes her three fur cloaks & stacks them together before scooting over next to Mercer & throwing them around them both. Afternoon turns to evening, evening into night; come morning, the storm is GONE, but it’s left a lot of snow in its wake.

     As they prepare to leave the next day, Mercer shoves the dresser out of the way and opens the door – only to be greeted with a pile of snow up to his chest. Once the Mage has joined him, she stares for a moment before simply using her Flames to melt a path out of the shack.

     “𝔑ext time, we’re staying in town,” Mercer growls.

     “𝔄greed.”