#Furiae Revayn (Dragonborn OC)

[sterling-starlight]

Spiced Wine

Taliesin’s comments about Rulindil before and after the Thalmor Embassy infiltration scratched at my brain and forced me to write this at *squints at clock* 2 in the morning. This is also my fist time writing Tally, so I hope I got him right >n< 

The urge to title this ‘Teacup’ was tempting, but ultimately unfitting.

Getting out of the Thalmor Embassy alive was like stepping into a perfectly hot bath after hiking through Winterhold; every inch of Furiae’s body tingled (although that could have also been the residual magicka of her glamour fading away), and muscles she didn’t even know could be knotted at all were slowly loosening.  If she decided that she wanted to spend the next few days in Solitude, she doubted her companions would deny her.

To be perfectly candid Furiae wasn’t exactly gnawing at the bit to see Delphine  any sooner than she needed to. There were other ways to get the information Furiae had found into the surly Breton’s hands- and if it came down to it, she could blame the time away from Riverwood on the rapidly approaching winter.  The roads of Hjaalmarch were freezing over, and extra care had to be taken for carriage drivers especially; no one could be blamed for that.

Alas, despite being wrapped in the comforting embrace of Kaidan’s arms and buried under a blissfully warm quilt, Furiae’s mind wouldn’t still. And the perpetrator was a certain Altmeri sorcerer whom she knew for a fact was still downstairs, needling the hours away with a bottle of wine. (During their time in Solitude, he had developed a taste for the spiced wine. Admitting, with great reluctance, that a common Nord family had concocted a brew that knocked alto wine off its lofty pedestal.) With a sigh that was equal parts reluctance and frustration, Furiae extracted herself from Kaidan’s arms, a difficult task since A) he was a light sleeper and B) he had wrapped his arms and legs around her like an ivy plant. “Whu’ssa’matta?” Kaidan slurred once Furiae had freed herself, pawing for her hand. She smoothed back his hair and kissed the corner of his mouth.

“Nothing. I’ll be back soon.” With a non-verbal response rumbling deep from within his chest, Kaidan settled back to slumber. She smiled fondly before padding out of their room, tip toeing past Teldryn’s (he snorted loudly, but didn’t stir beyond that) and scurrying downstairs.  A chill ran all the way up from her toes to the roots of her hair as soon as her feet touched the uncovered stone of the bottom main floor of The Winking Skeever.  The wind howled outside the tightly secured windows, thick globs of sleet slamming angrily against the panes as if to remind everyone still awake that winter was coming and would spare no one its fury.  It was almost enough to make her abandon her quest and dive back under the covers with Kaidan, but Furiae Revayn was nothing if not stubborn. Leaping from the foot of the stairs to the nearest edge of carpet to seek some reprieve, she wandered into the main tavern area. The fire in the hearth was still burning brightly despite the late hour, sending comforting waves of warmth throughout the space. Furiae’s target was huddled at a table by the fire, curled around a goblet as she had predicted.

“Ah. A fellow insomniac,” Taliesin said by way of greeting. “You may as well join me, rather than stand there like mannequin.” He waved a hand to the empty chair across from him.

“Is there any wine left for me?” She questioned.

“You ask that as though I am a drunkard with no self-control,” Taliesin sniffed belligerently. “I’ll have you know; I opened this bottle of wine not even an hour ago.”

“So, is that a yes?”

“That is a maybe.” As if they didn’t both already know the answer. Furiae rolled her eyes playfully and retrieved a goblet from behind the bar. Taliesin snatched it from her hand as soon as she was in range and looked over it with a scrutinizing eye, nose scrunching in distaste. “For Godssake, at least wipe it clean first.” With a flick of his wrist, he produced a handkerchief from absolutely nowhere (made more confounding by the fact that he had since changed into his sleeping clothes, which had no hidden pouches or pockets sewed into the lining like his Thalmor uniform did. At least not to her knowledge) and wiped down the goblet until it all but shined. Satisfied, he poured Furiae her wine and slid it over to her.  “So do what do I owe the pleasure?” “I have a lot on my mind,” Furiae said. She noted that her goblet was somewhat warm to the touch- Taliesin must have heated up his bottle of spiced wine to help with the chill.

“Understandable. One minute you’re dragging Kaidan, Teldryn and I over hill and over dale -taking us into every single cave, ruin, and fortress you can see- and drinking with Daedric Princes, the next the only survivor of a dead order is expecting you to save an entire country.”  Taliesin swirled the wine in his goblet contemplatively.  “Simple as a springtime stroll through Alinor’s botanical gardens.”

Furiae hiked her shoulders up and said, “that is part of the reason…” she paused, both to collect her thoughts and take a sip of wine. The variety of spices both familiar and unfamiliar swirled around warmly on her tongue and burned pleasantly as it slid down her throat.  “…I’ve also been thinking about you.”

Taliesin had the courtesy to look shocked -scandalized even- and placed a hand over his heart. “Oh, oh my!  I had no idea I occupied your nightly thoughts so!” He lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, “Whatever will you say to Kaidan if he finds out?”

“Nothing, because it isn’t like that at all.” Furiae bit back, cheeks burning. She glared at him over the lip of her goblet as she took another pull. “It’s about you and Rulindil.”

Taliesin crossed his legs elegantly and took a sip from his goblet. “You are doing nothing to help your case but consider me intrigued. Was there anything in particular you were curious about, hmm?”

If Furiae didn’t know Taliesin half as well as she wanted to think she did, she would have given up on the conversation right there and then. Most likely said something very unladylike and then gone into his room to steal his face moisturizers. But they had been traveling together for months by this point, and she had since grown accustomed to his…Taliesin-ness.

“You are incorrigible. You seemed upset when I told you he was dead, and I was worried. That’s it.”

The entire atmosphere seemed to shift. Taliesin’s cat-who-got-the-cream smugness dropped briefly, an expression Furiae had never seen before furrowing his brow for the briefest of moments, before it was swiftly replaced with an almost clinical veneer of indifference.  Despite the howling wind outside, she swore she could have heard a pin drop.

After a pregnant silence, Taliesin spoke up. “Rulindil was in the way, so you killed him.” He waved a hand flippantly. “No different than the multitude you tore through during your quote-en-quote stealth mission.” “You didn’t know those other Thalmor by name or mention any past relationship.”

Taliesin scoffed a laugh. “Relationship?” He un-crossed his legs and set his goblet down. “Oh, no, no, no. My sweet, innocent, hopelessly romantic, ignorant Furiae,” -he poured himself more wine- “The Thalmor don’t have ‘relationships.’ We have… arrangements.  Serving under the doctrine of a genocidal tyrant all your life tends to make things rather -dare I say it- strenuous. Believe it or not, hunting down and slaughtering heretics isn’t all sunshine and jaunts through pine forests. Every now and again, even we crave…” he swirled his wine, “carnal pleasures.”

“That’s it?” She asked. Taliesin quirked a perfectly sculpted brow at the Dunmer. She pressed on. “It was just a sexual thing?” “That’s it. Rulindil scratched an itch I had; I scratched an itch he had. Was it enjoyable? By the gods, yes.”  He looked down into his goblet, that picture-perfect mask of Altmeri indifference fraying at the edges. His lips quirked too far down. His eyes looked too distant.   “But that is all it was. Sorry to disappoint you, but there was no hidden passionate love affair.”

“That’s…” Furiae’s fingers flexed around her goblet. “Really sad.” She held up a hand to stop any further comment from the Altmer. “Not in a pitying way.  Just… I couldn’t imagine only forming relationships through just sex.”

“I could say that I loved him,” Taliesin said with a shrug. “But I respect you too much to lie to your face like that.”  He shook his head and reclined his chair, slipping back into his usual countenance of self-assured relaxation as easily as he donned his robes every day.  “Well, this conversation has been a delight, but I believe it’s over.” His tone was akin to the thunderous strike of a judge’s gavel.

Furiae ran her thumbs along the lip of her goblet, contemplating, before reaching for the half-empty bottle and pouring herself another drink.  A part of her wanted to press more, but the other part knew it wouldn’t lead anywhere. But maybe that was all there was to it.  Her father hadn’t been with the Thalmor, but from what little he had told her about his life in The Summerset Isles, it seemed to match Taliesin’s worldview. Love didn’t matter as much as lineage did, and sometimes the only way to feel anything at all was through sex.

Maybe that was all Taliesin was comfortable with. Maybe that was all he cared to know.