A.D.W.D. Chapter 28: First Dates

  • A few more turns and the roast should be cooked through, Valus thought in amusement as he watched a bundle of damp cloth rotate before the hearth fire in the afterglow of a full stomach and warm shelter. Kaera had wolfed her share of the meal down in half the time and was now hoping that a rotisserie motion would quicken drying her washed clothes. He didn’t bother with his own armor, some dirt on his hardened leathers of the Imperial Legion would only help flesh out the story of his role, though he should look into acid washing a patch for where the dragoncrest insignia of the active duty would go. Sometimes a detail as small as a clean spot from a recently removed crest can make or break a disguise. Wonder if the Dragonborn that founded the empire was as big dick as the current one?

     

    ‘A sea of blood and fire would flood forth from the Fatherland and wash the lands with the screams of the dying.’ Valus knew enough history to know the Dragonborn had been speaking of Tiber Septim, the first emperor of the Imperial Empire with those words. Valus grimaced and checked the straps of the plate armor running down his left arm that was the most recent contraption hiding the stump of his hand. Our ‘noble’ hero may as well be a fucking saint by comparison for only taking a hand.

     

    He chuckled at himself, How far I’ve come; from the street urchin defying the laws of man to the cripple defying the gods and dragons of the land.

     

    Keep surviving the moment and one day you’ll look back and realize you’ve survived the impossible. Surviving the city was their current moment. He’d paid for a few weeks in advance for their room, but he doubted they’d be there even that long. While it would be cheaper to stay at an inn for only the days they needed, the real value was letting Jaree-Ra believe they intended on growing roots. Valus didn’t doubt the lizard’s shadows had already reported the exchange, or that Jaree-Ra would betray any comradery between them and slit his—and Kaera’s—throats in their sleep if he knew the value of what they carried. Tonight would be a game of words, placating suspicions while gathering a feel for the climate of the city. Much had change since he’d last been to Solitude, he’d changed, but he found himself looking forward to the meeting; this was a game he knew how to play.

     

    Steam still rose from the damp cloth of the girl slowly spinning before the fire. She looked far less certain of the night ahead of her. With each pass by the front door, she checked the fading light seeping through a gap in the frame. He had no idea how the lad she was waiting for landed managing property at such a young age, especially with how terrible at negotiating he’d been, not that Skyrim was known for its shrewdness. Whether it was due to inherent Nord-ism or just the lack of experience didn’t matter; the boy wasn’t likely to question their deal later, even if he realized the house’s true value with how he had eyes for Kaera.

     

    Now Kaera was a problem he had no clue how to deal with. How had he even ended up here? If anyone had asked him even a week ago if he thought he’d be playing matchmaker to teens, he’d have laughed in their face… then stolen their coin purse, but they had both been so awkward at first sight he couldn’t resist giving them a push together.

     

    No attachments, no weaknesses. That’s how he’d lived before, although in all honesty the credo was but a thinly veiled lie, a mask Molag Bal had shattered and forced him to look upon hollowness within. Had it really only been a few days since they fled that city of silver and blood? Markarth… The innocent scene before him made all the horrors of the feuding gods seem like a dream, but the phantom pain of his hand was a stark reminder of reality. He knew it shouldn’t be possible, but he could swear he could feel the steel of his gauntlet rest against the skin of the hand that was no longer there. She should have left him at that cursed house; yes he knew he would have broken, but an eternity in Cold Harbor wouldn’t be an unfitting end for the likes of him and she would have been free. There was no going back now, not after destroying a Daedric Lord’s shrine, especially his. At least they had kept the mace, that gave them some leverage and the profits from selling such an artifact could take them anywhere in the world and buy anything they needed. They only needed to get it to buyer and he already had a few people in mind.

     

    He thought he was in deep when he had stolen a shard of Mehrunes Dagger, but that was nothing compared to what seemed to follow this girl. Just who was she to attract such attention from the otherworldly? The wise thing to do would be to cut his ties with her, like she feared he would, but he couldn’t. Chaos had always lured him; it was where opportunity hid for those that could walk the razor’s edge; though that reasoning rang hollow too, another mask already trying to conceal what he’d been forced to see. Alone in that house, there had been no hiding from the Daedra’s visions… or himself.

     

    He shook his head clear and thought back to the first time he saw her. She’d been an anomaly then too, an unlikely sight among a band of cutthroats. He’d been discussing terms with the Captain when the loud crack of a wooden spoon carried across the yard followed by a tirade from ol’ Gnarly Nan. Cook, maid, steward, whore; the woman had been many things to the camp, but was the Tyrant to Kaera, or Amari as she had been called then. The girl had bit her tongue mid-complaint and wiped the blood from her mouth, but her eyes had still smoldered in unbroken defiance. He doubted she knew to what extent Gnarly Nan had gone to protect her from the clan, but then again he recalled the floating corpse of the Toad with a hand print charred into his face. Maybe she did have an idea. No, not maybe, she definitely knew, she didn’t have the naïve eyes of a child. Those had been gone long before he’d even arrived, hardened much like his had been by her age.

     

    Valus smirked; he pitied any lad foolish enough to be too forward with her. The sound of feet shuffling in circle had stopped and Valus brought back to the present. Kaera pinched the fabric of her dress between her fingers and let out a satisfied chuff now that it was finally dry. The green fabric and crimson gold embroidery was designed to bring out the color of the Jarl’s eyes and hair versus Kaera’s black hair or brown eyes, not that lads her age would notice such things. Nor would they notice the extraordinary attention to the detail of every stitch and tailored cut that could only come from a race that measured their lifetimes by the century.

     

    She looked over her shoulder at him and cracked a nervous smile. No, he knew why he’d stayed; he had finally found something he wanted to protect more than himself.

     

    “Why’d you wash it in the first place?” Valus asked, seeking distraction from his thoughts. “You’ve only worn the dress a day.”

     

    He chuckled at the memory of their chest laying on its side with their meager belongings spilling from the hole her familiar had clawed out. She’d wanted the dress inside and she had opened it, just not with the lock picks he’d left for her…

     

    “I got forge soot on it. If Endaari and Taari found out, they’d kill me!” she replied while testing the fabric of her dress for moisture between her fingers again.

     

    “Fair enough, but will you please relax! I swear you were less nervous about storming a Forsworn redoubt!”

     

    She spun to a stop, facing him. “I don’t know about that… but it was simpler; we had a clear goal. What do I do tonight? What do I say? What if they find out who I am? What if they turn on me too?”

     

    Valus exhaled. “You are thinking waaaay too much about this. You’re going to see bards, not fight Daedra! Just go with the flow and always look out for yourself first.”

     

    Kaera was far from satisfied with that answer.

     

    “Alright, quiz time!” Valus slapped his thighs and leaned forward before saying: “What’s your name?”

     

    “A—‘m Kaera.”

     

    “Good save. Now where are you from?”

     

    “Helgen.”

     

    “Did you see thee dragon? Did you see the World Eater?”

     

    “What?”

     

    “Everyone knows what happened to Helgen; this will probably be one of the first questions many ask. Now you never saw Alduin—as far as I know—but you have seen dragons, so you could say ‘yes’ and describe them.” The faltering of her eyes at those memories told him enough about that option. “Or, you can quietly look at your feet and make them feel guilty for being such insensitive pricks.”

     

    She smiled at that and then Valus continued.

     

    “What do you do?”

     

    “Whatever small jobs we can find. We travel a lot.”

     

    “How’d you get that dress?”

     

    Kaera hesitated, not sure how to answer.

     

    “You can answer that one truthfully. You provided a service to the Radiant Raiment and that was the reward. Anything that has happened since we entered Solitude is a part of this name. I think you’ll be fine. Anyway, it’s usually easy to steer conversations away from yourself.”

     

    “How?”

     

    “Ask questions. Never know what you’ll learn and if you hit their interests; it’s often harder to stop them from talking.”

     

    A knock on the door interrupted.

     

    “One last thing: always keep at least two escape routes open… and do you have your dagger?”

    She patted her hip and showed him another knife she had stolen from his collection on her ankle.

     

    He grinned; he hadn’t even noticed it was missing. “That’s my girl!”

     

    She grinned back then opened the door to reveal Onmund on the other side. His face was still flushed from running, but he’d stopped long enough to catch his breath and straighten his tunic. His own face soon reflected the smile he saw on hers.

     

    “Ready?” He asked and then did a double-take of her, barely recognizing her out of her armor. “You look beautiful; are you a noble-born? What are you doing here?

     

    “N—” She stopped herself. Amari would deny it, but Kaera could have some fun; besides, it was technically true, not that it’s ever done her any good. “I can’t say, but I have my reasons.”

     

    “You secret is safe with me, mi’ lady,” he said with a grin, but she could see his eyes wondering whether she was serious or not. “Is Valus your guardian?”

     

    She cast a sly glance over her shoulder at the man in question. “More like my baggage boy.”

     

    “By the Shadow, what have I unleashed?” She overheard Valus mutter behind her.

     

    She held out a hand like she’d seen ladies do and Onmund took it on reflex, but he held her hand gingerly, as if he was afraid of crushing it. His hand enveloped hers with an almost hide-like skin that differed so much from Valus’s, which had wood-hard callouses from where he gripped his sword, but was fairly smooth elsewhere. Kaera also recognized the types of burn scars that laced Onmund’s hands; destruction magic and apparently not very good restoration.

     

    Unlike my hands, she thought proudly; magic had burnt hers far worse, but no one would be the wiser.

     

    Kaera cast a last farewell to Valus, then she and Onmund set off towards the Bard’s College in the last light of the glooming hour. One by one the oil lanterns lining the street came to life as a worker silhouetted against the setting sun passed by with a torch in hand.

     

    “So you aren’t going to tell me?” Onmund asked. “Are you really a noble? Which family?”

     

    Family… Kaera pursed her lips and shook her head to hide the unexpected rush of emotion.

     

    “Come on! I’ll pry an answer from you eventually!” Onmund teased, mistaking the head shake for coyness.

     

    If he does… If he learns of your past…

     

    Kaera had to shake away the dark thoughts that came unbidden and push the rush of emotion back behind the mask of her new name. That was Amari’s family, Amari’s losses, Amari’s weaknesses. Luckily, Onmund had the good sense, or maybe just luck, to not press any further.

     

    “How have you liked Solitude so far?”

     

    “It’s been… interesting, but I think I’ll like it. It’s a place for new beginnings,” Kaera said, grasping thankfully to the subject change. “Did you grow up here?”

     

    “Aye, cheers to new beginnings! I’ve only lived here a few months, but it’s not that far from where I grew up. To be honest, I didn’t think I’d stay this long.”

     

    “Why not, you don’t like it here?” she asked when he didn’t follow up the statement.

     

    He scratched the back of his head in a nervous gesture. “Not that; this place is great, but Winterhold is where I need to be; that’s where my new beginnings are. You can laugh or call me crazy all you want for this, I’ve heard it all before, but I’m serious about what I said earlier. I am going to become a mage.”

     

    “I don’t think that’s crazy.”

     

    He stared at her incredulously, as if waiting for the other shoe to drop.

     

    “Really, I don’t! Why haven’t you left already then?”

     

    He shook his head, still not fully believing her. “You’re not like the others are you?”

     

    Was it that obvious? Kaera wondered sourly.

     

    “I probably would have been there already if I’d walked,” he continued, “but I thought a ship would have been faster, only I didn’t know how hard it would be to find a captain traveling there, or how expensive they would be and well… never mind, that’s a boring topic for the night.”

     

    “I don’t think so. I’ve always liked ships and port towns.”

     

    She and Valus had come here under the same impression it’d be faster to travel by boat, hopefully Valus had more tricks up his sleeve than this boy. She wanted to tell Onmund so badly that they were going to the same place, but there was too much risk. No one could know who they were or what they carried.

     

    “Oh.” Onmund scratched his head. “Well, I’ve never actually been on a boat.”

     

    “Are you afraid of the ocean?! Do you get seasick?” she teased.

     

    “Yeah,” he answered quickly.

     

    Lies. He’s withholding something.

     

    He had already moved to another topic, but the chill of the thought brought her focus on his face and the sound didn’t register on Kaera’s ears, something amiss was written across his face: a nervous flick of the eye, a tension across the line of his mouth, a stiffening of the shoulders. What was it? What type of Nord even admits to being afraid of something? Was the true reason because of how open he was about magic? Was even he, a native Nord, not free of this land’s superstitions? Or was it something else, was that earnest smile just a mask he hid behind?

     

    Valus would know what to say, what line of questioning would get someone to jump at a chance to confess, but fear and uncertainty tied her tongue. She hated feeling weak. Why am I even here?

     

    The residential street they’d been following spilled onto the main stretch that ran from the main gate to the Blue Palace. Most of the stalls and trade wagons had cleared from the roads, but street was still filled with throngs of people. Where they were all going, she had no idea. Wonder if any of them are vampires? With so many warm bodies around, her sight only revealed the crowds as a chaotic fog of life; a vampire wouldn’t even need to bother concealing their own lack of aura with so much noise to hide within. Without Valus at her side, she was keenly aware of how alone she was, but the weight of her knives and Scuttles within his necklace brought a comfort she knew she could rely on.

     

    “…and that is The Fletcher, Fihada makes the finest arrows in the land! He mostly only does orders for the Imperials with the war and all, but I’ve got to try a few of his make hunting with his apprentice Jawanan.”

     

    How long had he been talking? Kaera was so focused on what hadn’t been said and the crowds, she completely missed what Onmund had said. He was pointing at a shop next to the blacksmith she’d gotten her armor and sword at, both of which lay in the shadow of the colossal Imperial fort that marked the transition from the market district to High Solitude. Hopefully he didn’t notice.

     

    “Fihada, Jawanan… are those Redguard names?”

     

    “Aye, they are. There aren’t many of their kind this far north; it is said their land is coated with sand like ours is with snow and the hottest summer day here is still colder than their longest winter night. I know Hammerfell managed to end its own civil war and the elves oppose the gods of their lands too, but Jawanan won’t talk about it. He says he traveled here to apprentice under Fihada and master the bow; wars and gods were beyond him.”

     

    “Sometimes people just want to leave their past behind.”

     

    “But how can you? It’s our pasts that made us who we are. Everything we’ve accomplished is based off the work of our ancestors. I don’t understand why anyone one would want to forget that. How can we ever move beyond our ancestor’s achievements if we don’t understand what they’ve done? The Imperials want to erase our ways, while the Stormcloaks say they want to bring the traditions back, but they pick and choose the history!”

     

    “So you’re not for either side?” Kaera had almost forgotten the war was still going on. Other matters had been holding her attention and whether it was Imperials or Stormcloaks winning, the battles left fields of armor and swords for the bandits to scavenge all the same.

     

    A tile crunched underneath their step and they looked down to see the trail of cracked paving stones where the red dragon had stepped the day before. That was the second time she’d seen that dragon and, again, the Dragonborn had been there too, but this time the sky hadn’t erupted into the fires of Oblivion. Despite the tension surrounding their arrival, none had died and they had passed through peacefully.

     

    Onmund picked up a shard and pocketed the sliver of stone after looking it over for a minute. “How can I be when creatures of legend roam the sky and heroes walk the earth? We survived an apocalypse! The world revealed one of its secrets to us, but now that the moment has passed, everyone is returning to their simply lives and beliefs like nothing’s changed. Not me! I refuse to shut my eyes and hide behind superstitions anymore! Nords weren’t always this way, I’ll show the people that a True Son Skyrim is not only fearless in battle, but fearless in the face of the unknown!”

     

    Kaera looked up at Onmund again. He spoke with such passion and his jaw clenched with a solid resolution that she could almost believe he alone would shape the future of a whole culture. The glow of the street lanterns cast his shadow wide across the street and deepened the contrast of the scars lacing his hands. He was leaving himself completely open to her, no masks, no hiding.

     

    Had I been wrong about him lying? Why do I doubt everything now? Was this how my past shaped me? She had to look away from him, she couldn’t return the same openness. Although he still spoke of war and the mystic like they were legends from a story; she could tell by his eyes that it wasn’t real to him, not yet. He did not know the darkness people could sink to when faced against such greater powers. If he’d seen what I have, seen what I’ve done, would he still stand so confident? Would he still talk to me?

     

    “Have you ever heard a dragon speak?”

     

    “Of course, everyone has heard their cries in the sky. I even saw the one the Dragonborn tamed pass through the main gate yesterday.”

     

    A laugh escaped before Kaera could stop it. Don’t tell that to the dragon! “You can’t tame a dragon any more than the wind. They’re like power and freedom given flesh. The Dragonborn may catch them like wind fills a sail, but they won’t change their path at his bidding, at least not for long.” Kaera’s eyes fell to her feet. “The only reason no one died yesterday was because we were beneath hunting. It was merely curious about these cities we hide within.”

     

    Onmund swallowed heavily. “Well, that’s depressing. Are we just like ants prodded by a child? Fruitlessly defending our land until we’re crushed on a whim? How do you know all of this?”

     

    She felt her cheeks flush; she was already being a wet blanket, wasn’t she supposed to be having fun right now? But how did she know? It just felt right when she said it. The tongue the dragons spoke was foreign, but the way their voice reverberated to the bone left an understanding deeper than words could ever convey.

     

    And when they fought... she suppressed a shudder, their Voices bent the very land and laws of nature to their will, but even the red dragon —Odahviing, that was its name— feared the Dragonborn even as it chose to aid the man. Then there was the ice dragon at Robber’s Gorge. When that one had spoken, she’d been brought to tears despite not understanding a word it spoke. An unbearable sense of loss and impending doom had filled the dragon not only for itself, but for something much greater, for some event sparked by the Dragonborn. It had not fought for hope, but for pride.

     

    “ ’you alright?”

     

    Onmund’s question broke through her reverie and she mumbled her way through an apology. She looked around realized no one was near the section of road they were on. It was an odd dead zone between city districts where she could see people milling up ahead around the fancy houses of the nobles and she could hear the fading sounds of the market behind her, but none where traveling to the other side. Her hand began brushing against the concealed form of her dagger with each stride.

     

    “Where did you say you were from again?”

     

    “Helgen,” she lied.

     

    “Oh… and here we are talking about dragons…”

     

    “No, it’s my fault. I—”

     

    “Stop right there criminal scum!” a voice interrupted from the darkness ahead.

     

    Kaera bolted on reflex and was already halfway down an alley before the sound of laughter brought her to a wary stop.

     

    “Kaera, stop, please!” Onmund called after her. “It’s just Sentius. I know him.”

     

    What if this was all a trap? Use Onmund as lure to split Valus and me up, then ambush! I knew he was hiding something!

     

    She cast her sight out and preemptively flinched against the pain only to be pleasantly surprised that her magicka was flowing freely once again. Containing even just the shadow of Boethiah had nearly incinerated her from within and having magicka flow through those fried nerves in the following chase had been agony, but a few nights of solid sleep seemed to have done the trick. The world lit up in the familiar violet hues, highlighting Onmund, the one called Sentius, and a third person still crouched behind a house next to Sentius. She studied their auras closely, but they all seemed human, though the hidden one was a few degrees brighter than normal.

     

    “Who’s the other one?” She called back.

     

    “Other?” Onmund spun around looking for the hidden figure. She let out half a breath of relief. At least he wasn’t a part of it.

     

    “Who is the one ruining my grand entrance? Denying the full effect of my voice; a power I wield as deftly as my axe!”

     

    “A Graybeard?” Kaera asked.

     

    Onmund and Sentius doubled over laughing. A form clad in scaled mail and furs stopped under the warm pool of a streetlight and flexed with his arms crossed.

     

    “What, a Graybeard?! No crusty hermit could compare to me! I am Skjarn, warrior, bard, hero, lover.”

     

    “And always full of shit,” Onmund added. “I didn’t know you were in town.”

     

    The two Nords embraced in a back crushing embrace that Kaera couldn’t tell if it was friendly, or if they were actually trying to kill each other. But when they broke apart they both laughed, so she decided it was safe to emerge from the alley.

     

    “I felt the high peaks of Haafingar calling, but I stopped by your home first only to discover you’d already run away like a little girl to go join some baby eating cult or something.”

     

    “The College of Winterhold doesn’t eat babies and I didn’t run away! I moved out.” Onmund’s face flushed as he defended himself.

     

    “You’re still onabout that? In that case I have a message from your folks.”

     

    “By ‘folks’ you mean my ma, while my da sat by silently?”

     

    “Whatever,” Skjarn cleared his throat and continued in a pitched, shrewish tone, “You tell that young man that no son of mine would ever consort with elf-loving heretics and if he still won’t follow a good Nordic, Divine fearing life, he best never return!”

     

    Kaera almost laughed at Skjarn’s impersonation, but the look on Onmund’s face told her this was all too real.

     

    Skarn clapped Onmund heavily on the shoulder, but Onmund didn’t react, still processing the blunt news. “Ah, cheer up! The bards are always good to get one good and plastered; besides whom would want to return to the den that bitch pissed in anyway?”

     

    “Hey, she’s still my mother!”

     

    “So… that makes you a son of a bitch. Say it with me: Fuck. Her! Fuck. Them! Who do they think they are? Judging like they’re Stendarr himself! Hey, I’m not saying I’m going to stop giving you shit, but neither am I going to tell you how to live your life.”

     

    Onmund was shaking his head, still not believing he’d been renounced.

     

    “Fine,” Skjarn continued. “If you won’t say it, then I will; I will… Fuuuuck Youuuur Motheeeeer!”

     

    Skjarn broke out in a booming baritone for the last words as he hopped away from the group and Onmund in turn chased him down and tackled the other Nord to shut him up before he drew the attention of the entire city. They hit the ground hard and turned into a cursing ball of fists and knees.

     

    Kaera cast a worried glance at Sentius, but he only shrugged and said, “Welcome to Solitude.”

     

    The fight didn’t last long and they both came to a stop on the ground; panting and roughed up, but laughing.

     

    “You’re one crazy bastard Skjarn,” Onmund said between breaths.

     

    Skjarn nodded while popping a kink from his jaw and used Onmund’s shoulder as a brace to stand up and then tried to push him over before he could get to his feet as well, but Onmund grabbed onto the arm and pulled Skjarn with him, but they both managed to stumble upright anyway despite their best efforts.

     

    “Nothing like a good fight to clear the head!” Skarn said, then he saw Kaera. “Well, hello hello. And who would this fleeting doe be?”

     

    Onmund punched him in the arm with a heavy thud. “Hey! That’s Kaera, she just moved here and we’re renting the same house.”

     

    “Ooooh,” Sentius drew out in a knowing tone.

     

    Skjarn shrugged. “Too skinny for me anyway.”

     

    Onmund punched him again with only because Sentius had stayed out of reach. “It’s not like that! I’m only showing her around town.”

     

    Kaera was glaring daggers at them all by this point and Skjarn only made it worse by winking back, but Sentius stepped in to calm things.

     

    “Ah, don’t mind us. We’re just a bunch of idiots messing with you.” He clapped Kaera on the back and started leading them towards the Bard’s College again. “I’m buying tonight! I got to escort a dragon yesterday and you won’t believe the bonus I got for it!”

     

    Skjarn pushed ahead to pry the details from Sentius and Kaera fell back in line with Onmund. He didn’t meet her gaze and scratched the back of his head.

     

    “Sorry you had to see that, I…”

     

    “I know,” she interrupted him with a smile and took his hand. “But Skjarn has a point: it is your life, don’t let others control it.”

     

    He looked her in the eyes then—blue, like a clear winter sky—and she was glad t

     

    o see that resolve from earlier returning.

     

    “So, what can you tell me about these bards we’re about to see?” she asked and then just listened.

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

      

     

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Comments

6 Comments   |   Shy Knight of the Shovel and 2 others like this.
  • The Lorc of Flowers
    The Lorc of Flowers   ·  September 20
    Oh, the lovely town of 'Helga', where maids are fair and mead strong, a town where Alduin laid his arse and farted it into Oblivion :D
    Just messing with you a little bit, friend. Anyway, it´s great to see this duo again. And Onmund! That was a pleas...  more
    • Exuro
      Exuro
      The Lorc of Flowers
      The Lorc of Flowers
      The Lorc of Flowers
      Oh, the lovely town of 'Helga', where maids are fair and mead strong, a town where Alduin laid his arse and farted it into Oblivion :D
      Just messing with you a little bit, friend. Anyway, it´s great to see this duo again. And Onmund! That was a pleasant su...  more
        ·  September 20
      Jaja (thats a laugh with a Spanish accent) with a few word tweaks that could make a good limerick.
      Yeah, Onmund is such a logger head in your story, lol. This version version is definitely a dreamer, but he is still in his teens and hasn't had life ...  more
      • The Lorc of Flowers
        The Lorc of Flowers
        Exuro
        Exuro
        Exuro
        Jaja (thats a laugh with a Spanish accent) with a few word tweaks that could make a good limerick.
        Yeah, Onmund is such a logger head in your story, lol. This version version is definitely a dreamer, but he is still in his teens and hasn't had life kick h...  more
          ·  September 21
        I made a joke about it because this isn´t the first time you called Helgen 'Helga' instead. That intentional? I feel like I´m missing something here. 
        • Exuro
          Exuro
          The Lorc of Flowers
          The Lorc of Flowers
          The Lorc of Flowers
          I made a joke about it because this isn´t the first time you called Helgen 'Helga' instead. That intentional? I feel like I´m missing something here. 
            ·  September 23
          It's a bad habit I have of skimming over names, same reason I kept calling Grulmar 'Grumlar' for so long
  • The Long-Chapper
    The Long-Chapper   ·  September 19
    Great to see you continue with Kaera and Valus the Phalus. HAHA. I like your portrayal of Dragonic pride and loss. It is a concept I get on board with. 
    • Exuro
      Exuro
      The Long-Chapper
      The Long-Chapper
      The Long-Chapper
      Great to see you continue with Kaera and Valus the Phalus. HAHA. I like your portrayal of Dragonic pride and loss. It is a concept I get on board with. 
        ·  September 20
      :-D she'll never let him live that name down. Slowly but surely I carry on, work has been refusing to slow down. Their godlike leader was defeated by a liir created by their own father; its a lot for a poor defenseless dovah to take in .