DRAGON HEART

𝑇𝐸𝐴𝐶𝐻 𝑀𝐸 𝑇𝑂 𝐵𝐸 𝑇𝑂𝑈𝐺𝐻 𝐸𝑁𝑂𝑈𝐺𝐻 𝑇𝑂 𝐹𝐴𝐶𝐸 𝑇𝐻𝐼𝑆 𝑊𝑂𝑅𝐿𝐷 𝑆𝑇𝐼𝐿𝐿 𝑆𝑇𝐴𝑁𝐷𝐼𝑁𝐺.

[vvarden]

#𝐕𝐕𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐄𝐍 / 𝑇𝐻𝐸 𝑆𝐴𝑉𝐴𝐺𝐸 𝑆𝐼𝐷𝐸 𝑂𝐹 𝑀𝐸. a roleplay blog for an oc from the elder scrolls. multi-verse and crossover friendly.

[vvarden]

CHANGED MY MIND about the side-blog and just gave Miraak his own blog instead. @bendwill

[vvarden]

no clue how I managed to snag Miraak as a username in ESO but

[vvarden]

remi vc: fellow dragonborn! hello! :D

That is all the permission Valvossa needs before wrapping her arms around the smaller woman and immediately engulfing her up in a tight, armoured hug.

“Finally someone who gets it! And is a woman!”

[vvarden]

Are other elves really so close minded?

“You know, I was going to say that no, everyone is, and go on that whole tangent, but uh, yeah, they are. Have you ever spoken to an altmer or a dunmer about the gods? Generally it's like you'll get about three sentences in before they start bringing up blood quantums.”

[vvarden]

Related to recent asks...

Valvossa did not obtain her lycanthropy willingly and takes extreme offence to the implication she did.

She was attacked in her birth-city of Blacklight by an infected traveler from Skyrim, subsequently leading to the death of her mother (of whom was assassinated in truth, but Valvossa assumes her death is related to the Incident) and her father Tervayn to move them to Solstheim, away from the city.

Similarly, she avoids the company of other werewolves with few exceptions* as she often finds herself not agreeing with their opinions and views of worship. She sees lycanthropy as a wretched curse and goes to great lengths to hide it from others.

*Valvossa encountered the Frostmoon Pack of Solstheim when she was fourteen, and they took pity on her and taught her how to control her lycanthropy.

The people who know of her condition are few and they almost never find out from any confession on Valvossa's part, rather she eventually slips up and they figure it out.

That said, if she got the opportunity to cure her lycanthropy... She wouldn't function well without it, given she's been living with it for longer than not.

[vvarden]

what do other dunmer think of your affliction?

“They don't. Do you think I'm some freak that goes around telling people about it?” One hand rubbed the opposite arm nervously. “Unless you mean the Dragonborn thing... Most the dunmer I meet that have an opinion on that are just amused at how much it must piss off the local nationalists. Which, by the way... It does. Especially the folks in Windhelm.”

[vvarden]

thinkin I'm gonna bring my Miraak back. a sideblog even if I don't get much activity. I miss that guy

[xaallo]

And should she look at her skin, a splatter of that blood would be silver and not the crimson of most people's. Over the coppery smell of men, elves, and dwarves there'd be the sweet tang of something else and a stronger, muskier smell sitting overtop that. Fur, scales...coconut?

Valvossa would be subject to the feeling of being watched and she she cast her gaze about, she'd see him. Somewhat not too dissimilar to her wolf form, only decidedly not lupine. Bovine would be a better word, but still not the right one. Sitting a ways away near a crackling fire, two golden eyes would flit over her form several times, as if hesitant to look upon her.

Her being naked might've had something to do with it, though someone -- probably the buck himself -- had seen it fit to cover her modesty in a bed of crunchy leaves.

" You're awake." Is all he said, deciding at last to focus on the snapping, curling shape of the flame.

Stretching out a hoof, there was an injury there along the ankle of his leg. A bite mark. Xaallo glared sidelong at her, accusingly. " Bit rude, that creature of yours."

[vvarden]

She does note the splatter of silver and peculiar coloring. Having never been to the Hammerfell, she doesn't recognize the additional scent thrown in the mix, nor any likeness to it. Val starts when she notices the figure sitting across a ways from her, reflexively flinching back... Then relaxing as curiosity replaces the wariness.

If he was a threat, he would've attacked her by now. Though, it was strange — she'd never seen a minotaur in Skyrim. Cyrodiil, yes, but she was quite certain she wasn't there. Still, with the way her head was spinning... It was difficult to be certain.

She rubs her fingers harder into her temples, ruby-red eyes flicking downwards to an extended hoofed leg. A bite, just big enough to be from her. That in addition to the silver... She comes to her conclusion quickly.

“Um... Sorry.” She sat up better without care to the leaves that were meant to protect her modesty, wiping the back of her hand across her mouth, then inspecting it. “You look like a deer, so I guess I — uh, I guess she assumed...”

Reflexively, she reaches down as if to grasp something off her belt, then belatedly remembers she was, indeed, nude. Too bad she had no magic to speak of here. “If I can just get to my gear... I could get a potion for you.” Valvossa looked up at him curiously, arching a brow. “So — is there a reason you didn't try to kill me?”

[vvarden]

HIS EYES OPEN , AZURE & SHADOW-BLACK , beneath the light of two moons . her presence , a whisper to others , practically screams unto him . she , akin to him somehow , within these cold , dark lands . in ways , now , unknowable . had reality twisted as he slumbered ? he will not let her go so easily . so , he follows , shadows churning as Shal'van vanishes into the night air , his abysmal gaze carving against the woman's daedric visage . the blackened claw of his hand twitching once , calling a spell to calm , should the need arise . the moons slowly fall , and finally , beyond the crunch of dry tundra , sounds someone . from the darkness . the spell shatters . "what a surprise you are ." speaks the vampire , voice low as prowling thunder . bone-white fangs gleaming .

She had an uncanny penchant to notice when she was being followed, even without actively noticing. Was it her nose, her ears... Or did a Nightingale of Nocturnal just know these things? Regardless of the truth, it was the reason she was not terribly surprised upon hearing the crunch of footsteps on the brush.

Honestly, it seemed as time went by that a night without being followed at some point was more the rarity, anyways.

Valvossa turned to face the voice, finding herself near face to face with a vampire. The coloring of the eyes was curious, but there was no mistaking him for anything else. If the teeth didn't give him away, it was the tone of his voice. Predatory and snooty.

“Yeah, good luck getting your fangs through this, buddy.”

She took a step back, one hand falling to the hilt of her sword. Even with a helmet veiling her face, her eyes seemed to ask: What else am I supposed to think here? She wasn't going to be caught surprised at any ill intent. And the intent of a vampire approaching a lone stranger at night spelled anything but.

“What's the surprise? You never see a — uh, I don't know — a lone wanderer before?”

[vehxmence]

He was stealthy for a man his size -- and where stealth failed, a well-placed thunderbolt did the trick. The smell of seared flesh lingered faintly where he passed; there had been three of the gangly, pale things, but his casting was just too quick. The amulet hidden beneath his armor, along with a few other accessories, made sure of that.

Oh, yes. Armor. He was no misguided College mage stumbling to his death down here, if his gear was any suggestion. It was a mix of leather and light plate, with little in the way of trailing fabric to hinder his movements. His hands were free for casting at the moment, but there was a sword sheathed at his back and at least two daggers visible. No peaceful researchers here.

The mage slunk forward toward the gate, already bracing for another fight with threads of flickering violet-white arcing between his fingertips; the subtle hum of the spell nearly made him miss the thrown pebble, but eyes sharply attuned to movement saw it before he registered its sound, assessed its trajectory, and snapped almost immediately to his unexpected company.

"Neither are you." He straightened slowly, but did not let down his guard. Only a fool would come down here alone, he thought, the irony of it not unappreciated.

"Let me guess -- looking for Dwemer treasure. Well, don't let me stop you."

[vvarden]

Ugh. Mages.

Valvossa knew the stab of irritation she felt was unfair and rude, but she couldn't help it. When circumstances led her to fighting them, there was truly nothing more irritating. Fingers tighten around Spellbreaker's grip, the ache in each knuckle a comfort.

She supposed coming across somebody in daedric would be equally disconcerting. Still.

“Nordic treasure, actually.”

However, she was not impartial to Dwemer treasure. Just the brass-gold shield she clutched in her non-dominant hand was enough proof of that and she knew it. She eyed the stranger with suspicion, and ultimately lifted her sword-arm... The end of the blade pointed up towards a place in the rocks above, where a falmer twice as large as the average crouched low and silent like a gargoyle. Armored, too. She couldn't reach it. A spell, though...

“If you're planning on fighting, snuff that one out first. The rest will lose focus.”

[vvarden]

"So, it turns out I don't even get a buzz off a whole barrel of mead."

"Next time, I'm going to have to get two."

“Well yeah, you're a dragon, you s'wit.”

Valvossa snorted, amusing herself with the mental image of the dov perusing the Riften markets for some booze. Where would she store the septims?

Thoughtfully, she scratched her chin. Then grinned.

“Maybe three? So you can share with me.”

[vvarden]

snfsnfsnf

SNFSNFSNFFSNFFNSFF

"Bruniik kendov. Who did you kill and why are their insides all over your boots?"

Naturally, her entire body seizes up upon the close approach of a dragon; it was scarcely a feeling you grew used to, even when you knew the dovah. But she has conversed with them before, and beyond the brief rigidity hidden beneath her armor, she forces herself stoic and still and unthreatened. There was no showing fear. Least, not if you wanted them to respect you. Dragons did not fear anything.

“Lost track a few corpses ago.” With all the experience Valvossa had so far in life, there was a certain bravado to her voice that was... forced. She scuffed her grimy boots across the rock pointedly, as if to smear off a wad of gore. “Oh, you know how common bandits are. Too brave and greedy for their own good. Sometimes they're eager to test fate.”

[vvarden]

not many wolf ladies to ask im afraid. weird innit?

“Maybe you just don't know where to look.” The exasperation on her face was not directed at the question, rather it seemed to say: Who am I kidding?

[vvarden]

do you have control when you wolf out or is it more of a rabies situation?

“Of course I'm in control of it.” Comes a quick, defensive answer. “I'd have been culled in my sleep by now if I wasn't.”

[vvarden]

how big is your wolf form?

“Do you ask every lady that or am I just special?”

[vvarden]

@dcviline

This wasn't the first time Valvossa had come across this unknown woman. Consequently, it always seemed to be when she was on the job and actively up to no good. Suspicion had shifted into curiosity now; earlier in the dusk, one of the city's guards had been infuriatingly in the way.. Until the mysterious She had distracted him with conversation, leaving the little thief a window of opportunity to slip by at last.

The young dunmer balanced her weight nervously on her toes as she approached the woman after her job had gone through, lingering close to the corner of the wall. Clearly, she was still a little suspicious.

“Thanks for the distraction earlier.. He was in my way all evening.”