Whumpril 2024 : day 16 to 20
Telmiltarion hated caves. Each descent triggered an inexplicable apprehension. These cramped spaces made the hair on the back of his neck bristle, and this feeling of being trapped gave rise to panicked thoughts.
The air smelled earthy and stale. The dust made him cough. When he tried to breathe again, it became wheezy. The fear of choking took over, and his heavy breathing turned into fits of wheezing coughs. An endless loop began: increased fear, intensified wheezing, followed by violent coughing and choking gasps. He could no longer calm his cough. Everything his companions tried to do to relieve him seemed in vain. (103)
Nebarra staggered through the forest, holding a nearly empty bottle of wine in his hand. Fatigue tugged at his eyelids, but he refused to give in to sleep and its nightmares. The shadows of the trees in the moonlight turned into changing specters, dancing before his troubled gaze. A twig snapped under his feet, putting him on alert. He turned around, drew his sword, expecting enemies, but saw nothing. Only silence answered. Then, whispers floated on the breeze, growing louder with each passing second.
Complaints, dying groans, pleas... Was it real or were his nightmares from the War coming to life on the wind? (104)
The vial had slipped from his hands and crashed to the ground, shattering into a thousand pieces and spilling its precious contents onto the floor. Lucien knelt down and tried to pick up the scattered pieces of glass but the sharp fragments did not fail to cut his fingers. He let out a squeal of surprise and pain. Drops of blood mixed with the spilled potion on the floor and, for a moment, Lucien became afraid of the alchemical mixture it could have made. He froze, sucking his wounds, among the broken pieces of glass, waiting for a possible alchemical reaction. (101)
This goodbye sounded like a farewell. The dragon would transport the Dragonborn to the ancient fortress of Skuldafn. From there they would go through the portal to Sovngarde. A sort of journey of no return. Their companions who can teleport themselves would join them, but Lucien remained behind. Someone had to stay, right? However he wanted to believe that the Dragonborn could come back.
"Skyrim needs its Dragonborn. So do I.", he said in a strangled voice. "Ah that's sounded awfully gushy." he tried to compose himself. Then, squeezing the Dragonborn's forearm, he added, staring intensely at them, "Still, it's true.". (104)
Taliesin sat alone in his tent, fingers playing with the cover of a book he had found in an old chest. The candle flame flickered, and the shadows caressed his face. Memories attacked him. Moments of casual touches like a friendly pat on the shoulder, a squeeze of the hand...
He sighed. He hoped, in the future, that his relationships with his new traveling companions would allow him to be touched, cherished, fully accepted as one of them. To ease the crushing void within him. Just one tender gesture, a single act of kindness to remind him he was worthy of being loved. (103)
You can read all the Whump drabbles I've made so far for the Skyrim Custom-voiced Followers here ! Drabble collection (collection of small texts around 100 words each) featuring the Last Dragonborn, Kaidan, Lucien Flavius, Inigo the Brave, Auri, Nebarra, Xelzaz, Remiel, Lucifer the Argonian, Caryalind Thallery, Telmiltarion, Gore, Taliesin, Lydia and Serana.
