#telindil

[dratheas-blog]

Writing Exercise Thingy

((Saw some people do this, so I snagged it. XD ))

Pick five of your characters, it doesn’t matter if they’re all from the same story or anything, just five characters that you write.

Dra'theas, Rabbit ( foxandrabbyt ) , A'eresh ( aeresh-starforge ), Telindil ( telindil-bloodbringer), and Marcaerus ( marcaerus )

1) List them in order of how good their hugs are. Rabbit, Marcaerus, Dra'theas, A'eresh, Telindil.

2) Why are the last person’s hugs the worst? Telindil's a maniac that's always wearing his armor that has lots of lovely spikes and such all over it. He'd also sooner stab someone in the head a few dozen times before getting close enough for a hug. XD;

3) Why are the first person’s hugs the best?

Rabbit is a cuddle-bug when it comes down to it! He's the type that if he happens to be taller than the person he's hugging, he'll nuzzle their hair if they wouldn't mind, and if they're taller than him, he'll just nuzzle their shoulder if he can reach it. He's pretty closely tied with Marc, though, by way of 'best hugs.' 

4) List them in order of how bad their bedhead is. A'eresh, Marcaerus, Rabbit, Dra'theas, Telindil.

5) For the person with the worst bedhead, how long does it take them to tame it and how much do they care? A'eresh gets pretty aggravated when his hair gets too bad. He sleeps under covers and pillows alike because he gets cold easily, so it usually results in his hair being this floofy, tangled mess that makes him look like he tried to stick his finger in a light socket. It takes him quite a bit because he's picky and wants all of the tangles to be gone and to look a little more than just presentable on an average level. 

I suppose it's a good thing he won't flip out if his hair gets screwed up during the day. It's just when he first wakes up that he'll openly gripe about his hair, oddly.

6) For the person with average bedhead, how long does it take them to tame it and how much do they care? It doesn't take too long for Rabbit to take care of his hair. It's long and naturally straight, and usually cooperates nicely. He takes good care of it in general, and would probably be fine with him just running his fingers through it a few times to get the extra tangles out, but he likes to sit and run a brush through it for a bit if he doesn't have any immediate plans. 

7) List them in order of who is more of a morning person. Dra'theas, Rabbit, Marcaerus, Telindil, A'eresh

8) List them in order of who takes the most coffee/time to wake up in the morning. Marc, funnily enough. He'll start downing tea really soon after he wakes up because otherwise, he'd stay in bed for hours after he's supposed to get up. When Drath's there, he usually ends up being literally dragged out of bed and carried to the kitchen because he's horrible about being on time. Once he's awake, though, he's really perky and enjoys being out of bed. 

9) Who spends the most time listening to music? Probably Marc. He spends a lot of time alone and he likes to play his lute and hum and sing quietly to himself. Rabbit's close behind on that scale, though, since he hums a lot, but not quite as much as Marc. Music is a good distraction and it reminds Marc of his mother because she had the same habits. 

10) Who spends the most time pretending not to like pop music? Pop music doesn't exist in WoW, so I can't really answer this. XD

11) Who owns the most sweaters? A'eresh, hands down. He hates the cold and would much rather be in front of a nice, toasty fire.

12) Who owns the most kitchen appliances? Drath, even though his brother uses it more than he does since he doesn't come home often.

13) List them in a random order. Now take person 1 and person 4: What happens if they switch bodies? 

A'eresh and Dra'theas, eh? A'eresh would probably immediately gripe about how Drath needs to take better care of himself and flip out over the number of scars he has. Not because he has them in general, really, but more because he's a grouch that cares and he hates when he can't be there to help someone he cares about.

Dra'theas would be fairly indifferent except for the fact that he wouldn't be able to wear his plate armor or use his normal weapons of choice because A'eresh isn't quite build for it. If he's in a good mood, he'd also probably make the most ridiculous faces and make fun of A'eresh while he's right there just to piss him off.

14) List them in alphabetical order. Now take person 3 and person 5: What happens if they have to pretend to be married? Marcareus and Telindil. ...That....That would not end well at all. There'd be more "Oh, wait, you're related to Dra'theas?? Okay, I'mma stab you forty-seven times in the chest and send your head to him in a box!" type of stuff going on. Telindil would only ever pretend something like that if his life depended on it; otherwise, he'd find a way out, including killing the "partner." 

Marc would be pissed and terrified at the same time because he knows about Telindil, sooooo....way too many conflicting emotions and intentions there. 

15) List them in order of most desire to pursue a college education to least. Rabbit, Marcaerus, A'eresh, Dra'theas, Telindil. 

16) Give your characters one wish each. What do they wish for?

Dra'theas would wish he could finally put an end to Telindil and stop him from hurting anyone else once and for all. 

Marcaerus would wish he could have his mother back. 

Rabbit would wish to be able to help people efficiently and not be a failure in the long run. 

Telindil would wish for time to be reversed, essentially. He wants Arthas back on the Frozen Throne. Permanently. 

A'eresh wouldn't really know what to wish for, honestly. He'd probably save it for another time.

17) Your characters can save one person from anything that is happening or has happened to them. Who do they save? Dra'theas would have an extremely hard time with this. There are two that he'd want to save more than anything. He wouldn't save his wife because he knows that she would hate him for choosing her over their children. If he was given this kind of choice, he wouldn't be able to make a decision. He'd just break down.

Marcaerus would either want to save his mother or he'd end up debating on waiting, just in case his brother ends up needing that save.

Rabbit would definitely just save it. He doesn't have anyone that he wants/would want to save right now. 

Telindil would save Arthas from his demise. 

A'eresh is like Rabbit, so he'd save the choice for later.

18) List your characters from most cooking skill to least. A'eresh, Marcaerus, Dra'theas, Rabbit, Telindil

19) List your characters from most likely to shave a friend’s head as a prank to least. Marcaerus, Rabbit, Telindil, Dra'theas, A'eresh

List your characters from most likely to prank a friend to least.

Same as Question 19.

20) List your characters from most likely to accidentally throw something when scared during a movie to least. Rabbit, Marcaerus, Dra'theas, Telindil, A'eresh

((Not really sure who to tag for this thing, sooo....Just go for it if you want to! :D ))

[dratheas-blog]

Into The Portal

Dra'theas' eyes were narrowed as he gazed at the raging force of energy, ears twitching alertly as he listened to the sound of metal against metal and cries of war. When Archmage Khadgar declared the opening he had been waiting for, there was no hesitation in the paladin's actions as he dashed forward with the rest of the army. 

Suddenly, it seemed as time around him slowed as an all-too-familiar chill ran down his spine and he looked up as a shadow loomed over him. His good eye found the Death Knight he had been chasing staring fight back at him from the back of a dread raven, a malicious grin on his features and his lichfire eyes glowing brighter than ever. 

You chased me to Northrend, the phantom whisper echoed through Dra'theas' head and his teeth clenched as old rage began to boil inside of him. So chase me again, paladin. Now is your chance. Don't let me down.

With that, Telindil spurred his winged beast forward and through the portal, disappearing. Dra'theas growled and shook his head as he quickly caught up with the rest of Azeroth's defenders. There was no way he could let the monster escape him again. Not this time. 

[dratheas-blog]

Forbidden:I will write a drabble about my character longing for something they can never have.

((Since you didn’t specify, I think I’ll use Telindil for this one. ^^ Thank you for the prompt!))

Telindil scowled as he paced in one of the long-abandoned rooms of the Icecrown Citadel. Other than a few lingering Scourge that were easily avoided, it seemed he was one of the only ones left. Before, the halls had buzzed with activity and whispers and praises to the Lich King. But not now. Arthas, the Lich King, had been slain and another, an impostor, had taken his place on the throne. The thought made the Death Knight’s blood boil and he audibly snarled at no one, slamming his fist into the nearby wall with enough force to crack the stone. 

Why?! The thought passed through his mind more often than he would ever openly admit. Ever since his connection with the Lich King had been broken, he had felt empty, hollow. If he could have one single wish, it would be for his King to be revived, to be on the throne always. His King’s success and being able to serve him until the end of ages was all Telindil ever wanted. He wasn’t like most of his former brothers and sisters; no, his desire to live by the Lich King’s command ran far deeper than a simple twisting of mindset upon being resurrected. He hated the other Death Knights. Damned traitors deserved the most painful of deaths imaginable. They deserved to suffer for their treason, for turning their backs on everything they had ever been taught about loyalty to their King and to his cause. 

Suffer well. The old phrase echoed silently through empty halls and he let out a cry of rage, hitting the wall again—once, twice, three times, before kicking it. 

"Damn you! Why did you have to die?!" He yelled, receiving no answer. He hated the Lich King as much as he admired him. Another screech rose from his chest and he clutched his head, fighting back the vivid memories that still haunted him of that night. He remembered the King’s final words, and the Sin’dorei paladin that had dragged him to that battle and forced him to watch Arthas’ demise, helpless to stop it. He could only scream and fight to free himself from the paladin’s chains to no avail. 

Stop…Stop…! Stop stop stop STOP!! The shrieks manifested from his mind through his voice as he continuously slammed his fists into the wall. Finally, he crumpled to his knees, slamming his fist into the ground. He trembled in a mix of rage, hatred, and anguish. 

"Come back…" he whispered, the words lost in the vast chambers of the empty citadel. "Please come back…" 

lilysaliao ((whoops, forgot to tag properly before. XD ))

[dratheas-blog]

“I could kill you right now!” - For Tel :D

A daggerlike ear twitched at the sudden declaration, the Death Knight’s head tilting slightly to the side momentarily before he turned to face the other male. He eyed him uncertainly at first, cold orbs scanning over his attire, the way he held himself, every detail he could take in. Remaining silent, he drew in a deep breath through his nose, broad chest expanding beneath the plate armor he was seldom seen without. Then an eyebrow raised in interest, a grin that looked more like a sneer crossing his lips as he exhaled, finally parting his lips to speak. “Is that so? What makes you think you are so capable? Are you so arrogant as to assume that you can challenge me and win without a shadow of a doubt?”

Telindil stepped forward boldly, head held high as he reached to his back to draw his blade. “You say you can kill me right now and yet you wasted your breath speaking when you should have been attempting to take me by surprise. Now I know your intentions and that only gives me incentive to rip you apart—not that I wouldn’t have regardless. Your kind disgust me. Filthy traitor. Even in the wake of his death, you walk amongst the living as if you are one of them.” A low rumble began in his chest before it rose from his lips—a manic, blood-chilling sound that held a mix of amusement and suppressed rage. Tightening his grip, he pointed the blade at the ‘fallen’ Death Knight. 

"Come now, mongrel! Entertain me so that I may prepare to bathe in your blood when I rip your heart from your chest!" 

((This…was a little too fun… XD))

traianbloodshade

[dratheas-blog]

Ahhhh, so excited. :D Thanks to a friend of mine, I've finally found a faceclaim for my Death Knight, telindil-bloodbringer. So I'll be modifying and revamping his tumblr and actually using it. X3 Warning if you go to check it out, just in case: I already have a warning on the blog and it is marked 18+ and such, but a lot of the posts were made before I was able to properly tag them, so there may be some triggering stuff. Mainly just blood and a lot of paranormal ghosty creepy thingies in the newer posts. :) ))

[spellsword-archer]

✢ ღ

✢ for a good memory that makes them smile

Barely had dawn broken than was Tarene up out of bed and scrambling to get dressed. He’d hardly been able to sleep the night before, but the excitement kept him wide awake. Gone were the days of watching sullenly as College expeditions left him behind at the gates; he’d been trailing with his mother for months, and today was the day he was going to venture out at her side. An official ‘Draugr exterminator’ (as his father said)!"You couldn’t sleep either, could ye, lad?" Tarene turned to face the voice in the doorway, and his smile widened."Morning, mama!" The young mer chirped in a stage-whisper. Other people were still trying to sleep at this early hour, and the rooms had no doorways to speak of. "I just wanted to make sure I didn’t sleep in this time. Anaril said you might leave without me if I did."

ღ for a drabble about a romance/their love life

When Tarene stepped into his room that night - returning from a late study session that had seemed frustratingly fruitless - the young mer dropped his armful of books in surprise. Candles sat alight on nearly every surface, filling the windowless room with a flickering orange glow, and a trail of red mountain flower petals led from the doorway to the bed, where a whole bloom lay, tied to a rolled up piece of parchment with a red ribbon. Tarene scrambled across the room, his face turning red as his steps scattered the flower petals, and he wondered how long they had been there. The College rooms didn’t have any doors - what if people had walked by and seen this? He grabbed up the note and hurriedly untied the ribbon, eager to read the note that had been left waiting.’The Frozen Hearth, 1am, usual room.' Read the note in a familiar, flowing script. 'Don’t be late~’

[spellsword-archer]

Who hurt you?

Tarene stiffened at the question, but he couldn’t see the immediate harm in answering. “Uh…I guess that would be Telindil…” The Altmer bit his lip, thinking about the destruction mage he’d met in his childhood. There was a lot he could say about the mer…and not much of it was positive, to be honest."We were close, for a while, but then we split, and he just…disappeared. I didn’t hear from him for nearly sixteen years, and when we finally ran into each other again, he never explained the silence." The sellsword shrugged. "I….I guess he got on with his life, but….sixteen years."

[spellsword-archer]

Calling on the Mountain [Drabble, NSFW]

Eastmarch seemed especially dreary that day. Dark clouds hung low in the sky, and rumbled with the threat of rain. A light mist clung to the ground, and swirled around their feet as the duo of adventurers moved through it. Tarene shook his head as walked; he shouldn't have been surprised by the weather. Skyrim wasn't exactly known for sunshine, after all. The setting didn't seem to bother his employer any, either. Telindil's pace never slowed as they went, seemingly walking with no destination. It wasn't the first time he'd had to follow a client to gods know where, and while Tarene had a long list of people he'd rather be traveling in isolation with, he was at least getting good coin for it. Telindil always paid him well - that much couldn't be argued - but he never told the sellsword exactly where they were heading until they were already there. So far, he'd had to delve into Dwemer ruins, Forsworn camps, Hagraven nests, and one troll den for this client. He'd nearly died sixteen separate times, and if the pay wasn't good, Tarene swore he'd never leave the inn where they met up. This was a lie, as Telindil was incredibly persuasive, and did not, by any means, play fair. But it made Tarene feel better to think that he had a way out.

As they approached the foothills of the mountains, the pair came upon an old set of stairs carved into the stone. Telindil turned to look back at Tarene with a predictably mischievous grin, and started jogging up them before the sellsword could protest. Tarene sighed quietly and followed after his employer, resigned to simply following him around until they arrived at whatever destination the mage had in mind. As they climbed higher, things started to seem….off. The path they had discovered followed a pattern - a few short steps, then a landing, a few more steps, and a landing - and there was an awful amount of blood and scorch marks splattered across the stone. Tarene was struck by Telindil's apparent disregard for these disturbing clues, but more so by his own. As if on a rail, he followed after the mage as they climbed higher…and still higher….and still impossibly higher. Tarene was just beginning to wonder how far up they had gone when he began to see smoke drifting up through the air. They finally came upon a large shrine set at the top of the stairway. A statue stood tall as the dominating piece; it depicted some strange, aged figure in swirling robes that, partway down, morphed into some sort of reptilian, tentacle protrusions. The figure raised a sword high above their head, and into the stone before this statue was chiseled a spiral caving, and a lone stone pillar rising up from its center point. Daedric script encircled the pillar and its spiral, and for some reason he could not fathom, Tarene saw nothing wrong with this. "What a strange shrine." Telindil commented as they stood before it, seeming to share Tarene's lack of concern for its foreboding appearance. "I wonder what culture worshiped here. I thought the Ancient Nords were all about the dragons." To this, Tarene only shrugged. History had been one of his worst subjects, and he no longer bothered with it in-depth. Particularly around Telindil, who already knew of this shortcoming, and mocked it mercilessly. "You know, I saw a few tents on the way up here." Telindil spoke up. Tarene furrowed his brow, but didn't say anything. He couldn't remember seeing anything but empty space, grey skies, and rock on the way up. "I'm going to go see if anyone is around." The mage started to turn away, and now, Tarene moved, reaching out to grab his shoulder. "Lyn, wait. That's dangerous." The sellsword argued. "You hired me to protect you, didn't you? Let's just stick together. I…" Tarene sighed. "I have a bad feeling about this place." Telindil smiled condescendingly at the younger Altmer, and reached up to remove his hand from his shoulder. He entwined his fingers with Tarene's, pulling the hands to his chest and forcing Tarene to step closer. "You seem to be forgetting that I'm an accomplished mage." Telindil replied smoothly. A soft warmth began to bloom under Tarene's hand, and the sellsword's frown became apologetic. Telindil's smile then curved down into a mild snarl. "You don't think I can't handle myself, do you Tari? Because I can more than prove you wrong." The soft warmth suddenly began to grow hotter, and Tarene's eyes widened. He tried to yank his hand from Telindil's grip, but the mage held him in place for a few seconds before relenting. Tarene finally yanked his hand away, and as he did, an arcane flame sprang to life in Telindil's hand. "L-Lyn!" Tarene shied back, checking his hand for any serious burns. The leather palm of his gauntlet was singed, but otherwise intact. The sellsword looked back at the mage with an accusatory glare that he wasn't quite ready to back up. "Don't do that! That really hurts!" Immediately, Telindil's frown became sympathetic, and the flames spell disappeared. "Forgive me, Tari~" The mage cooed, reaching out that same hand to cup Tarene's jaw. The Altmer flinched; Telindil's palm was still quite warm. "But you know I just get so upset when you doubt me. You've known me for years, darling. Years. You more than anyone should know how capable I am." Tarene's glare faded, and after a moment, he raised his own hand to cover Telindil's. "…you're right." He admitted quietly, looking down at his feet. "I'm sorry, Lyn." Tarene sighed and shook his head, pulling Telindil's hand down and letting it drop. "It's this place. It's making me feel…edgy." He had no other words to describe it. There was an ill aura about this shrine, and it must've been getting to him. Telindil smiled softly, as if understanding. "Alright, Tari, then we won't stay here long." The mage decided. "Why don't we split up: you investigate this shrine, and I'll investigate the tents?" He suggested. "That way, we'll finish twice as fast, and have more time to 'set up camp'." At this, the Altmer raised his eyebrow suggestively, and Tarene's face reddened. "N-now's hardly the time to be thinking about that." The sellsword coughed and turned away to face the shrine. "But fine…you search down there, I'll search up here." He relented. "Shout if you find anything interesting." Behind his back, Telindil smiled darkly, and turned back down the steps to the previous landing. Tarene then stood in front of the shrine for several long, silent minutes, wondering what exactly he should do. He really didn't want to go near the thing. The longer he stared at them, the more frightening Daedric symbols appeared, and the fact that he knew nothing about this place made him very hesitant to do any tampering with it. What if the Daedra whom this shrine honored didn't like the two adventurers mucking about in their territory, and cursed them? Tarene really didn't want to go through life suffering a Daedra's curse. All the stories of such poor souls ended horribly. But eventually, the sellsword realized that, if he just stood there, he'd have to explain his hesitance to Telindil. That would only lead to merciless laughter, feeling horrible for the rest of the day, and having to repeat it all whenever Telindil felt like it for the rest of his life. With that on the table, suddenly a Daedra's curse didn't seem so bad. Hesitantly, Tarene approached the pillar in the center of the spiral. As soon as his foot crossed into the circle, the spiral lit up a bright, arcane blue, and with a shocked gasp, the Altmer stumbled back. The light faded as soon as he left the circle, and after a minute, Tarene hesitantly edged his way back inside. The light returned, and Tarene held his breath….but no traps went off, no magic ignited, and he didn't die. At least, in the first few seconds. Suddenly, Tarene felt a force pulling him forward, towards the center of the spiral. His boots skidded across the rock as he tried to backpedal, desperate for traction, but whatever magic had latched onto him did not waver. When he had been pulled nearly to the pillar, the force suddenly flipped him around and yanked him back against the stone. Tarene spat out a curse as his struggled, and found himself completely immobilized. After a few minutes of futile wiggling, the sellsword whined in frustration. "Lyyyyyn!" Telindil hurried back up the steps, wearing a concerned expression as he looked around for his companion. But, when he laid eyes on the Altmer's predicament, the mage began to laugh. Tarene felt his face burn, and he told himself he wasn't pouting as Telindil slowly curbed his laugher, and smirked at the mercenary instead. "Oh, dear Tari, what have you gotten yourself into?" Telindil mused rhetorically, sizing up the hapless youth before him. "Seems you're well and truly stuck." Tarene growled, his face burning with embarrassment. "Oh, really? I hadn't noticed." The Altmer snapped back as he bucked his shoulders, trying with all his might to break loose, but having no luck. "Rrrrr…You can laugh at me later, Lyn. Please, just get me out of this!" Tarene pleaded. The mage's smile turned wolfish, and he hummed as he blatantly stared at the wriggling mer. "Oh, I will." Telindil promised. "But first…" Telindil strode forward into the circle, and Tarene almost shouted out a warning. But no magic pulled the mage forward, and he stopped in front of Tarene, completely unaffected. Telindil reached up and, with one hand, grabbed the sellsword's chin, tilting his head up and back as his other hand unfastened the red cloak about his shoulders. Tarene's eyes darted around in confusion as Telindil pulled the cloak free, letting the fabric collapse to the stone below with a muffled rustle. "Uh…Lyn, that's, that't not helping." Tarene muttered as Telindil tugged down the collar of his leather armor. it was his limbs that were stuck, not his clothing. The mage only grinned innocently, and braced his arms against Tarene's shoulders as he leaned in close. "It's helping me, darling." He breathed into the young mer's ear. Tarene shivered involuntarily, and a different sort of heat reddened his face. He heard Telindil laugh, and he coughed when the teasing breath became a light nibble. The mage wasn't serious, was he? His partner was stuck in some arcane trap, and he wanted to get frisky?! "Lyn, not…not now!" Tarene complained, trying to lean his head away from the mage to further his point. He didn't have too much room to move, however. "Can't you at least wait until I'm out of this thing? This is not a good time!" "Oh, but it's a perfect time." Telindil leaned his head down and pressed a kiss into the hollow of the younger's neck. "There's no-one around, and I've got you all to myself~" "L-lyn…" Tarene swallowed thickly, flushing to his ears when his former employer began moving up his neck. He couldn't tell if it was fear or arousal (maybe it was both) creeping down his spine, but he found it entirely inappropriate, given the situation, and wanted it to stop. "T-Telindil, really, knock it off-!" Telindil lightly scraped his teeth across his captive's throat, and Tarene made an undignified squeaking sound. "Telindil!" Tarene strained against the magic that bound him; trying to pull away from the cold stone at his back. But neither his hands nor his feet would budge, and his efforts only served to make Telindil laugh. In fact, it seemed to encourage the mage, and he shifted his stance to worm one leg up against the pillar, and press his knee between his companion's thighs. Tarene's protests died on his lips, for a few minutes at least, and the Altmer let out a needy moan before he could catch himself. "I'm serious! Lyn, I'm…th-this isn't fair…" Tarene whined. His employer simply laughed against his captive's throat, and pressed himself closer. For what felt like hours, the mage tormented his young companion, teasing and taunting, but never granting release. Though their glory days were years in the past, to someone as long lived as the Altmer, they were just yesterday, and Telindil hadn't forgotten a thing. Though he had, at first, been unnerved by the shrine's isolation, Tarene now thought it a blessing. Surely, his cries would have drawn curious eyes for miles around. When Telindil finally pulled away, he left Tarene gasping for breath, and painfully frustrated. There was no denying the color to his face, now, and his braids may as well have been undone, for how much they had been pulled and yanked about. Tarene glared up at the taller Altmer through his curtain of disheveled hair, and took a breath to admonish him…but his meager anger failed, and he just blew air instead. "There, you've had your fun." Tarene grumbled. "And now that you've got me all wound up, the least you can do is let me down from this gods forsaken pillar." Telindil laughed quietly, and held up a book that suddenly appeared his hand. Tarene frowned. He couldn't remember seeing that before, and Telindil hadn't picked anything up. Where had it come from? "I'm afraid I've bot a bit of bad news for you, darling." The mage smiled thinly. "As it turns out, this shrine is the Sacellum of Boethiah. You know, the Daedric Prince?" Telindil reached out a hand to grab Tarene's chin, and gently tilt it upwards until the two made eye contact. "Sorry, but while there is in fact a way to get you down, you're not going to like it. You see…there's just no way to get you off that pillar alive." Tarene's blood ran cold at this statement so casually made, and swallowed thickly. "Th-that's not funny, Lyn." The Altmer muttered and struggled again, an uneasy knot tying itself in his stomach. "Stop playing around at get me off of this thing." Telindil laughed, and shook his head, as if apologizing for his dark sense of humor. The mage reached behind his back - where the book had gone, who could guess - and pulled out a dark blade from some hidden sheath. Tarene's face paled, and he stared at the mage in horror. "L-Lyn-" "You told me to get you down, darling," The mage's smile became predatory as he leaned in and laid the dagger's cold edge against the underside of Tarene's jaw. "And I'm going to do just that." The Altmer leaned back, pulling the blade with him, and Tarene felt a surge of panic. "No. Nononono. Lyn. Telindil…!" He tried to beg, but the mage pressed a hand over his mouth to silence him. "Hold still." Telindil commanded, raising the dagger over his head. - - - - - - - Tarene snapped awake in the dark room with a panicked gasp, and grasping at the sheets beneath him like a lifeline. His heart was racing, and a cold sweat covered his body. There was some weight slung across his waist, and in his panicked state, he thought about jumping up and flinging it off. But his memory filtered back as his eyes adjusted to the shadows, and Tarene slowly turned his head to look around. He was lying in bed in Solitude, in The Winking Skeever, where he had been all night. Clothing was strewn all about the room, and his sword and bow were leaned up against the wardrobe across the floor. The weight across his stomach was the arm of his partner for the night, and said partner still slumbered beside him, miraculously not awakened by the young Altmer's outburst. Slowly, Tarene turned his head to see Telindil lying beside him. The dream was already fading, and his mind had lost many of the details. Already, Tarene had forgotten what role his sometimes-lover had played in it; he only remembered that he had been there. But the fear and sense of betrayal remained, and they kept the young elf awake long into the night. When Tarene finally managed to close his eyes again, he shifted into a more comfortable position, and fell back into sleep. Beside him, Telindil cracked one eye open, and smiled.