Ecthaen turned at the sound of Varondil’s voice floating through the dining room threshold. Nymhe trailed behind him carrying various breakfast foods on a few precariously balanced platters. He chatted away enthusiastically with Varondil, smiling and commenting when appropriate as they prepared. He idly helped set things up as they preferred to now, all clustered at one end of the long white oak table.
After a few heartbeats, Ecthaen realized he could not understand what was being said. At first he assumed them to be speaking in another language, little sense as it made in retrospect. He tilted his head, trying to concentrate on the words they spoke, but they sounded far away, distorted. They became harder to see as well, as if his eyes were brimming with tears. Unconsciously he lifted a hand to feel for wetness, yet found none.
A voice not belonging to Nymhe nor Varondil whispered behind him, the cool chill brushing the back of his neck. When he turned, only the large bay window overlooking the mountains met him. It continued to murmur, beckoning him to nowhere in particular. Ecthean kept silent, looking out at the Druadach Mountains as if they held the answers he sought. The whispers echoed back instead, promising things Ecthaen could not put into words and could barely comprehend. There was motion, oil painting-like images passing through his thoughts. A series of bubbling rivers through the mountain range sprawling beyond the Forgotten Vale, teeming with roes and salmon. There was a spriggan somewhere near it, and yet there wasn’t. The image of a hunter curled up into their bedroll came before him, as they avoided the rays of the rising sun and rolled over in their sleep. The spriggan reappeared, oozing a green sap that scorched the earth below it, but was within the hunter and not a part of reality. Ecthaen could not understand how he knew this as he continued to look. The hunter whimpered in their sleep before bolting upright, and the image vanished.
Colors, figures, and visions of a thousand different moments of this kind assaulted him. A farmer’s crops wilting while their cattle rotted away, a fire ripping through the small town several miles away but centered around one small boy, a woman grasping at her mouth as her teeth clinked into the water basin below her, the shrill cry of a rabid wolf and feet stumbling through the snow. In between these flashes, a single throne unoccupied sat nestled in thorns and a forever burning violet flame hovered above it. The whispers became louder, and louder, until it shrieked something so terrible Ecthaen thought he may be deafened forever. Then—
It disappeared.
He was standing where reality had left him, on the other side of the dining room table, staring out at the mountains, saying nothing.
“—thaen?”
Dread swarmed him, yet a comfort in the voice he had heard left the fear displaced and familiar, as if he wasn’t meant to truly be frightened by it. A premonition. An agreement.
“Ecthaen? Are you well?”
Ecthaen tore his eyes from the window and was met with Varondil’s soft expression, a hand on his shoulder. Why?
“What?”
“Do you need to rest awhile longer, are you well?” Varondil said firmly, repeating his statement.
Ecthaen paused for a moment, brows only knitted in the slightest against his normally neutral expression.
“No, I was…” He tried to keep his phrasing simple, knowing there was a chance Varondil might not understand him properly from the language barrier. “Admiring the view. The sunrise on the mountains is rather beautiful.”
Varondil gave Ecthaen a look he couldn’t quite decipher. A breath later the pleasant smile returned, and he gingerly squeezed Ecthaen’s shoulder. “It is, is it not? We are ready for breakfast when you are, though, if you can tear your eyes away from the sunrise.”
As Varondil walked over to take a seat, Nymhe opposite him with confusion on his boyish features, Ecthaen struggled to not linger on him. Perhaps he was unwell indeed. The past few months of travelling with Ruma and taking residence within the chantry had been stressful. Many times his fellow soldiers complained of seeing figures in the dark where there were none, or omens settled ominously into their regular dreaming. ‘Such weight one carries on one’s shoulders when a sword rests in their hand’ Luthien had said to him once after they had spent two full nights slaughtering Atmorans. They did not sleep for many days afterwards, and Ecthaen remembered the twinge of madness they all carried close to their hearts by the end of it.
He ignored the slight ache in his chest at the thought of her, and sat down at the table. This would all pass, eventually.
repulsive || hideous || ugly || not attractive || unappealing || not unattractive || meh || no preference || ok || mildly attractive || nice looking || cute || adorable || attractive || pleasant on the eyes || good looking || hot || sexy || beautiful || gorgeous || hot damn || would tap that || perfect || godlike || holy fuck there are no words
“Varondiil has come a long way from when I first found him. Like myself, he’s made decisions that have impacted history and became a specter of the past. There is much that we have to speak of, when other’s would not easily follow. His loyalty and discipline is also quite admirable.”
How likely they would have sex with them:
not if they were the last person on earth and the world was ending || fuck no! || never || no way || not likely || not sure || indifferent || I’m asexual || maybe || probably || it depends || fairly likely || likely || yeah sure || yes || would tap that || hell yes || fuck yes! || wishing that could happen right now || as many times as possible || we are already having sex
“do not partake in such acts.”
Level of Friendship:
never in a million years || worst of enemies || enemies || rivals || indifferent || neutral || acquaintance || friendly toward each other || casual friends || friends || good friends || best friends || fuck buddies || bosom buddies || practically the same person || would die for them || true friends || my only friend ||
“Unlike Divayth Fyr, Varondiil expresses relatable facets. One’s that I would trust and seek out for more comforting reasons.”
First impression of them:
I hate them so much || I don’t like them || I don’t trust them || they annoy me || they’re weird || I’m indifferent || meh || they seem alright || they’re growing on me || truce || I think I like them || I like them || I’m not sure if I trust them || I trust them || they’re cool || they’re genuine || I think we’re going to get along || I really like them || I think I’m in love || oh fuck they’re hot || I love them
“A bit feral, but nothing I could not work with.”
Current impression of them:
I hate them so much || I don’t like them || I don’t trust them || they annoy me || they’re weird || I’m indifferent || meh || they seem alright || they’re growing on me || truce || I think I like them || I like them || I’m not sure if I trust them || I trust them || they’re cool || they’re genuine || I think we’re going to get along || I really like them || I think I’m in love || oh fuck they’re hot || I love them
“Again, there are reasons why I would chose him as a trusted companion.”
How good of a kisser:
worst kisser ever || terrible || bad || awkward || just okay || alright || pretty good || good || makes me moan || excellent || exciting || oh god they’re good || I dream about it || fucking amazing || absolute perfection || we haven’t kissed
“finding a vampire somewhere other than a dark, dank worm hole is definitely refreshing... except for the fact that you’re found on dawnguard territory.” too close to their home base, anyway. there was no place that could truly be considered ‘dawnguard territory’ other than the riften and the fortress itself. otherwise their men were too few and far between. “you’re either ignorant of what that means or you really want a fire enchanted crossbow bolt between the eyes.”
Alchemy: Which ingredients do they most often collect and how successful is their potion brewing?
Cyrodilic Spadetail, Eye of Sabre Cat, Giant Lichen, Jazbay Grapes, Scathecraw, Silverside Perch, and Skeever Tail. Usually he’s pretty successful at making potions, poisons especially.
Halfling: How do they view half-breeds?
Being the stuck up jerk ex-Thalmor he is, he sees half breeds as impure. A thing to be shamed.
Ysgramor: Do they approve of his actions? Are they content with the way history has played out thus far?
He does not like Ysgramor, his actions, or the path he’s paved through history to put it simply.
