#skyrimrobn

[actualdoomdrum]

A picture of V: Archmage Restoration Robn i comissioned from @tomatoscribbles I love it so much!!!

[actualdoomdrum]

It's purple...

Robn, the first time they made a magelight without reading fully through what they were supposed to do and winging the later half of the spell, it also was half in the ground and moving in a circle until it wore off. it was, in fact, a Bethesda glitch.

[actualdoomdrum]

Under Saarthal

Waking up that morning in the Hall of Attainment felt easy- felt exciting. Knowing what was going to happen the next day was something new and unexpected, having a schedule again was odd and comforting all at once. Tolfdir said to meet the class at the ruins at sunrise and Brelyna and them were going to walk out together. He’d mentioned something about partners and it would be nice if the two of them ended up as a pair but in the end it was up to Tolfdir’s discretion. Fixing their robes one last time they grabbed the strap of leather off of the table by their bed and messily tired back their hair as Brelyna appeared in the doorway with a boiled creme treat in either hand. Thanking her the pair set out towards the ruins of Saarthal. 

Carefully making their way down the scaffolding together the sun barely crested the ground outside of the hole- and did not touch where they were yet. Slowly Tolfdir and the last of the class filtered into the canyon. Brelyna and Robn chatted a bit about spell testing while waiting for- Robn looked up from their conversation and around- what were they waiting for? A quick headcount found one short though. ‘Me, Brelyna, J’zargo, Onmund and- ah that’s who,’ they thought. 

[actualdoomdrum]

Changes In Management

They sat at their makeshift desk, in their broken down chambers out of the way that they’d cleaned out and made their base of operation. One way in, one way out, easier to get trapped in but no way for anyone to sneak up behind them. Closing their eyes momentarily they took some notes- writing nearly indecipherable due to their poor handwriting, before repeating the process. In the end there were 13 names, many more than there had been in awhile, and some father out than expected. They were writing down potential assignments for each person, each hit, when they felt a presence just outside the door.  “Come in. I have a job for you,” it didn’t matter who it was, the list was long enough that they could assign them someone from it. 

[actualdoomdrum]

cont. from (x) @malevolentnightshade

Masks pulled over their faces, they’d been drawing too much attention to themselves lately. Robn pulled the lackey to the side, some kid, a new member of the brotherhood, recent addition and already seeming to be nothing but trouble. Outside of Falkreath, too far from the base for comfort but far enough out to have privacy they kept a measured hold on his arm. 

“Who gave you orders to kill that man?” “Nobody,” He said derisively. “Then why is he dead?” “There was this guy, mentioned him, mentioned the ritual, figured I’d be proacti-” “That’s Not Your Job,” They said with venom in their voice, holding his arm harder, guaranteeing bruising later. “You kill who I tell you to, not who you think is going to be the next contract. And even if someone does do the sacrament, weather or not we do a job is my call. Now we’ve got the empire sending Thalmor to Falkreath.” “What does it matter, they won’t find anything it’s not like-” “That’s not your call. And it does matter. You don’t seem to have any idea what’s going on here do you? You don’t seem to understand how any of this works. They’re going to want a murderer, and your work wasn’t just uncalled for, it was sloppy. You’re lucky I don’t just hand you over to them now and save us all the trouble.” They tossed him towards the hideout, “Get inside. You’re grounded.” “But-” They pulled a knife, waving it in his face, “Do not, test me today. I’m not in the mood.”

[actualdoomdrum]

For the longest time, they didn’t remember anything. There was nothing to remember. The cold separation from any sort of source of life had rendered them dead long ago, their heart ripped out and cast away. Then there was a force, tugging, pulling, manipulating- and no resistance could be given because there was nothing left willing to put up resistance.

For the shortest time, there was nothing to remember, because while they were about to be they were not yet in a state of being, just planning. Comforting whispers of the Aetherius gently lulling them into the Mundus and then painhurtsnohelp- and then they were cradled in someone’s hands, small and shining and damaged on the way- important parts missing before even starting, ‘soul rot will set in soon if we don’t d-’, and then they were on their way again-

Suddenly they were small and squirmy and together and separate at the same time, shoddily placed in the same small space. The space grew, they grew, not in size much, but together, edges blurring before first words were spoken. They remembered then, but their body wouldn’t listen- Sithis’ whispers inside their head- screamingtearingtaking- but they remembered how to block it out, and so they grew. 

A week after they spoke their first words in this form, they started to forget. Small things here and there- washing away like the tide, events and names and places and then all at once they were talking outright and it was as though the memories had never been there in the first place. But they were together, and alive, and had grown together in an inseparable way. There were no edges, no boundaries between, just them, together, one being instead of the two torn ones that’d been pushed together. Guided together by the Dread Father’s hand, but out of his control, they grew.

[actualdoomdrum]

For the longest time they locked themself away in the College. They didn’t know what they were doing- why they had to decide what was going to happen with Stupid Ulfric and his Stupid War, so they hid away. Faendal came with them- he was a good friend, his jokes funny and his comfort a necessity when it feels as though the world has started to fall apart around you. And later he would visit when he could, bringing them news of the war and what was going on outside the walls of their chosen containment. And so here they lived, locked up in a tower they chose, hoping that things would work themselves out (but accompanied by the sinking feeling that that could not be so.... and they were right.).