#flint skyrim

[lil-biscuits]

Skyrim parenting guide pt. 1: Lifting Baby

[foamimi]

[khajiit-apologist]

brat but it's the same except I assigned the songs to cvfs

Gore: 360

Val Serano: Club Classics

Velyania: Sympathy is a knife

Feris: I might say something stupid

Katana/Megara: Talk talk

Aniya: Von Dutch remix but just the ad lib scream done by Addison Rae

Lucien: Everything is romantic

Auri: Rewind

Serana: So I

Lydia: the girl so confusing remix with lorde and I'm lorde

Flint: Apple

Taliesin: B2b

Daegon: Mean girls

Secunda: I think about it all the time

Inigo: 365

[rabbittwinrithings]

Made a new oc! His name is Von, son of Kyne, and guide of the fallen!

Von is a demi-god, son of Kyne, who watched over souls in Sovengarde and helps lead them to the Hall of Valor.

Obviously, being the son of Kyne, he always did know the thu'um and used it to aid warriors in Sovengarde.

However, all would change with Alduin. Von and Alduin have a long history of battles against one another. But it wasn't till the Nords of the Merethic era would fall quickly during their rebelion that the two's anger towards one another would come to a head.

Von would meet Alduin in the snowy fields of Skyrim, demanding Alduin to stop. This led to a large fight. For a while, it seemed the two to be evenly matched, but at one point, Alduin gained the advantage by bitting off Von's hand and shouting at him. Using a thu'um that caused Von to fall in a deep slumber.

As the years went by, Von laid in the snow, soon covered by the thickness and laying dormant in it for thousands of years.

Soon enough, he awoken. But all was not well, Von remembers nothing of who he once was except his name.

As a mess and not knowing where he was, Von began to wander Skyrim.

He started to take small, odd jobs to get by. These jobs would slowly begin to lead him to places where he started to meet others like him; lost, in their own ways.

Taliesin kept telling Von he should at least try to look more presentable.

Von just somewhat chuckled and asked, "What do you suggest?"

The Mer looks to Khash. "Khash, would you be so kind to get our friend's hair under control?"

The Argonian girl could barley contain her excitement!

While he knows nothing of who he once was (yet,) Von is happy with the life he's building so far.

Sadly, Alduin knows how to hold a grudge and longs to devor the rest of the demi-god who's flesh he tasted.

[the-creature-22]

[milkyandromedas]

having the world's grandest and silliest time in skyrim via bringing 21 and soon to be 22 followers around with me at all times. narrow hallways are a nightmare. sometimes upon entering an area i spawn one to two floors above or below the group. everyone is always talking to each other and to me. i have music on in the background i don't know what anyone's saying to me ever. but they are my friends.

[farshores]

WOE

MINOTAUR FOLLOWER UPON YE

[youfreakinturltle]

Protect You Pt. 3

(A/N): Okay friends! This is potentially the final part to this series! If y’all would like a part 4 please let me know! I was sorta maybe possibly thinking of a slightly smutty part 4 buuuut idk yet, y’all let me know! There is a slight Skyrim reference so iykyk lol!

Pairing: Colby Brock x ghost!fem!reader

Warnings: you know how it be, some language, mentions of death, mentions of reincarnation, food mentioned, superstition, like one sentence that mentions prostitution (reader’s mother on Nassau), I think that’s it, if I missed anything let me know!

It had now been 2 years since you attached yourself to Colby and started going on adventures with him and his friends. Everywhere he went, you were right beside him, keeping him safe from entities and people alike. While they were still scared during some of these adventures, they were far more comfortable knowing you were there. Especially Colby, who you had grown quite close with during your time together. He had taken to spending every evening once he retired to his room communicating with you. At first it was through writing on the mirror until he decided that wasn’t enough and wanted to actually talk to you.

About a year ago you two had begun talking via the Estes Method with him sitting on his bed, leaving room for you to sit next to him, with headphones and a blindfold on. You told him many tales about your life, all the way from growing up on Nassau with your mother to your final hunt, The Urca de Lima. You once even told him about a flashback you’d had to your childhood one day that made you finally realize who exactly your father was - none other than Captain Hornigold himself. He could faintly make out the sound of you crying telling him this, making his heart break realizing just how upset you were. That was the only time where you two had been able to touch by Colby reaching out to you. He was so hurt from hearing you so sad, he unthinkingly reached his hand out to place it on top of yours. By some miracle, he did indeed touch your hand. It was a quick, fleeting feeling, but it meant the world to the both of you. You, who hadn’t felt a person’s touch in centuries, and he, who was beginning to feel his heart ache from being so close to you, but never being able to see or touch you. That was about six months ago now.

Since that day you slowly began to realize that you were no longer simply here to protect him, which was still highly important to you, but you were beginning to feel things you hadn’t since you died. The last time you felt this way was for none other than John Silver, the man who stole Captain Flint’s Urca de Lima map and somehow became one of The Walrus’ most valued crew members. You were beginning to fall in love with Colby. While it filled you with joy to spend every day with him, keeping him safe, it also broke your heart to know you could never truly be with him. And sitting in the back of your mind was knowing that he could never possibly feel that way about a ghost.

One day the two of you were sitting in the living room with Sam, Jake, and Corey, watching a show you learned was called “Family Guy”. Next to you, Colby kept an earbud in that was connected to the spirit box in his pocket so you could talk to him any time you wanted. All you had to do was give him a tap on the arm and he would reach into his pocket and turn it on. After about the fifth time of this, the others began to notice.

“What are you doing man, getting the scores for the game or something?” asked Corey.

Colby laughed and tried to wave him off, but it seemed the guys were on a roll.

“Or are you maybe talking to (Y/N) again?” asked Jake with a cheeky grin.

“And what if I were? That a problem?” Colby asked with a laugh.

“Nah, no problem, just starting to think you might have a crush.” The guys began laughing while Colby glanced in your direction.

“Ha ha, very funny guys, stop before you make her uncomfortable.”

You were beginning to squirm, hoping Colby wouldn’t take them too seriously. You weren’t sure if you could handle that quite yet, truth be told, you were just coming to terms with having these feelings at all. Let alone be able to convey that to him yet. Before your thoughts could travel any further you hear Corey say, “Why would that make (Y/N) uncomfortable? I mean unless she has a crush on you too.”

Jake and Corey laugh with each other while Sam scolds them about being inappropriate. Colby begins shifting in his seat like he’s uncomfortable as well. You give him a minute to say something, anything, every second your anxiety growing.

When you start to think he won’t say anything at all, he turns to you and did quite possibly the worst thing he could’ve done, “(Y/N)… do you…?”

Your eyes all but bulge out of your head before you shoot up off the couch and run to Colby’s room, slamming the door shut behind you, praying he would leave you be. You look around the room for a moment and your eyes land on the shelf he had put up for you, filled with things he had gotten for you on his adventures, claiming, “it just doesn’t seem right that this is our room now and it’s only filled with my stuff. You deserve things too.” Thinking back on your times together, you begin to cry, not realizing it until you felt the tears streaming down your face. Behind you, the door opens and closes quietly and without turning around you know exactly who it is.

“I’m so sorry, (Y/N). I didn’t mean to upset you in any way. I’ve got the spirit box on still if you want to talk to me. If you don’t I completely understand. Would you like to be left alone for a while or is it okay if I stay?”

You took a moment to collect yourself and told him he can stay, to come sit with you. Settling in next to each other on the bed, you realized it’d never been this awkward between the two of you. You’d always had this comfortable air together. You just wanted this uneasy feeling to go away. Before you could speak up though, Colby says, “I’m not sure how you feel about this, but I can’t keep it in any longer. (Y/N), I like you. More than I probably should, but I don’t care about what they say or think, I only care about what you think. I know it would never really work between us, but I can’t deny how I feel. I’m falling in love with you, (Y/N). If that makes you uncomfortable please tell me. I just- I couldn’t-“

Whatever he was trying to say was cut off by a little sob. You whipped your head around to look at him and realized he was crying. You reached your hand up to wipe his tears away, momentarily forgetting that you can’t, so instead you opt for cradling his face gently in your hands. He seemed to be able to feel, or at least tell, that you were touching him. Smiling at you, he opened his mouth to speak again before you cut him off.

“I love you too. It scares me, but I do. I don’t know what to do or say, but all I know is that I love you and I would spend the rest of eternity fighting to protect you.”

He is staring at you wide eyed now, his eyes filled with happiness, relief, and an overwhelming amount of love. You almost pull away from the unfamiliarity of it, but decide against it. Leaning forward you rest your forehead against his and close your eyes, reveling in the knowledge that he does share your feelings, it isn’t completely one sided this time. Riding your high of happiness and relief, you hesitantly ask him, “Can I try something…?”

“Of course.”

You slowly lean forward until you gently feel your lips ghosting over his. For a moment, you feel a wave of warmth flow over you before you realize, you can feel him. You can actually feel him! He seems to realize this quickly and taking advantage of the fleeting moment of your corporeality, he kisses you back. You cling to one another as long as you’re able before you feel yourself beginning to fade again.

The airy laugh he lets out matches your own. You’re both so happy you don’t know what to do with yourselves past whispering words of love and affection to one another until Colby eventually falls asleep. Following your nightly routine, you lie down next to him and close your eyes. Even though you can’t actually sleep, it’s nice to feel that little bit of normalcy.

Something about this night is different though. Because one moment you’re laying next to Colby with your hand resting atop his, and the next you’re standing in a dark void. You begin to panic, thinking you’re finally moving on.

“No, no, nonono. This can’t be happening. Not now! Please not now!!”

“Do not worry, my child. I would never do such a thing to you.”

Turning around, you quickly take up a defensive position. You see a woman standing in front of you. She’s tall, beautiful, and dressed in a flowing white dress with her burgundy tresses flowing gracefully past her shoulders.

“Who are you?” You ask, your voice echoing out into the void.

“My name is Mara, goddess of love and compassion. I watched over you through your tragic life. I’m so sorry that all happened to you, my love.”

“So I had an actual goddess watching over me and I still died like that? Regardless of that, it’s been over 300 years now, why are you just now showing up? Do you have any idea how alone I felt all that time?!”

“I know, my child, I know. Again, I’m so sorry. But given my position, there was nothing I could do regarding your death for that is not my domain. But I was able to negotiate with the goddess of death into allowing you reincarnation. You were meant to reincarnate and find John again in your next life if you had passed on as intended. Though it seems I failed to take into account how hard headed you are!” She finished with a twinkling, airy laugh.

“If you’re here to offer me reincarnation now, I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to decline. I like things how they are now. I’m finally happy. I don’t want to leave Colby. He needs me, he needs my protection.”

Mara smiles at you in understanding and continues, “I know, darling. I’m here with a new offer. Become my champion, and you may return to Colby. Not as a spirit, but as a person. Does that sound alright?”

“…and what would becoming your champion entail?”

“Simply doing as you are now. Rid the world of any demons or evil entities you come across. Spread love and compassion to all that you meet. Do this, and you may spend your life with your love.”

You don’t hesitate for a moment before agreeing to her terms. You had already come to terms with the fact that you would do anything for him, to be with him. And like she said, it was already what you were doing. So long as Colby was safe and uninvolved in any divine deal you made, you’d do anything.

Mara smiled at you and pulled you in for a hug. “Should you ever need me, all you need to is ask. I look forward to watching your happiness. I love you dearly, my child.”

You open your eyes to see light shining through the windows and look down at yourself. Not only realizing that you were actually asleep, but you have a body! A tangible, corporeal body! You roll over to see Colby sleeping soundly next to you and reach a hand up to graze his cheek. You’re over the moon feeling his warmth seep into your fingertips. He begins to stir and you contemplate pulling your hand away to allow him more sleep, but decide against it, too excited to see how he would react.

His beautiful blue eyes begin to flutter open and land on you immediately. He lets out a yelp and jumps up into a seated position. Giggling, you look up at his bewildered face as he whispers, “…(Y/N)? How is this possible? Is this real? Am I still dreaming??”

Sitting up, you take his hand in yours and say, “I’m real, Colby. I’m really here. It’s me, (Y/N). It’s a long story, but I swear to you, it’s all true. I’m really here and I’m not disappearing again. I promise.”

As you speak, he seems to believe you and tears begin streaming down his face. Before you can say any more he pulls you into his arms, clinging tightly to you. You wrap your arms around him, taking in the new, yet distantly familiar feeling. You spend the entirety of the day locked away in his room, watching movies and holding onto each other like you would disappear at any moment. He ordered lots of food the moment you two had collected yourself as you both realized you hadn’t eaten in a very long time. To say the least, it was the best day you’d had in centuries.

When you felt yourself starting to get tired, you clung to Colby even tighter, your anxiety seeping back into your mind. Slightly fearful that today hadn’t been real. You feel Colby pull you closer as he reminds you that everything would be okay with a slow, sweet kiss. Smiling, you snuggle in closer to him, feeling if you were any closer you’d be one.

Next thing you know, you’re waking up to your second day back in the physical world. Realizing the day before hadn’t been a dream, you’re over the moon knowing you get to spend the rest of your new life with Colby as his significant other, rather than just his spiritual protector.

[dwemeri]

@trinimac​ i have thought about this back and forth for the greater part of seven months (not deeply but frequently) and yes, in-game stalhrim is referred to as magical ice but from a worldbuilding standpoint................ what if it were chert

visually stalhrim weapons look like knapped stone:

which like. isn’t necessarily reason enough; obviously yeah stalhrim visually resembles em but so do dragonbone weapons but being found on a volcanic island means that despite not knowing the Deep Geological History of skyrim (though the skyrim geological survey is cool as shit and provides good pointers) with significant heat and tectonic activity, silica from nearby volcanoes as well as a coastline (for limestone formation), conditions for chert/flint formation are favorable and therefore could be the reason for the specificity of solstheim being the only place to find stalhrim, with stalhrim being a unique variety of chert/flint (like ohio flint or pedernal chert or any other kind of chert/flint associated with a specific formation/member)

the analogy isnt perfect because stalhrim encases the (more recent) corpses but it sure is cool to think of the geological implications of a unique type of material found only on a volcanic island and what real-world analog can be found to flesh out a little detail of How It Would Actually Work.

[thequeenofthewinter]

Last Line Tag

Share the last line of your WIP, and tag as many people as there are words in the sentence. (Okay, I cheated and did the last few lines because I couldn't resist.)

This is the last bit I wrote from the next chapter of "An Invincible Summer." (Which I will be posting tomorrow.) I was tagged by the wonderful @dirty-bosmer. <3

“I suppose we should light a fire under this pot and see if I can find anything left in this house to drink.” Immediately, Dahlia starts sifting through the drawers of one of the dressers, finding a spare piece of flint and some kindling and handing it to Ulfric. “You do know how to use this, right?” She teases.

“Who do you think lit all of our fires and cooked for us during the Great War?” He takes the items from her hands and leans down to strike the flint across the stone floors.

“I wouldn’t eat anything Galmar cooked even if you paid me all the septims in Skyrim.”

He laughs, “And right you would be to refuse.”

I'd like to tag: @oblivions-dawn @mareenavee @blossom-adventures @sheirukitriesfandom @skyrim-forever @a-midwinter-night-dream-86 @tallmatcha and @rainpebble3. No pressure. <3

[nientedenada]

The Skaal and the Falmer

@demonwrestler asked in the comments on my post: Ysgramor and the G-word, and I just got back now to answer (nearly a month later)

Now, I have yet to play Skyrim to completion, but I've probably dropped 6k hours into ESO by now just doing the stories and hearing the Lite versions of things to dip in my toes. I wanted to ask, related to this post, is there anything on how the Skaal feel about the Falmer/Snow Elves?

Yes, way back in Morrowind, Bloodmoon, there’s a text: The_Story_of_Aevar_Stone-Singer where the Falmer are antagonists to the Skaal. The same text is found in Oblivion and Skyrim.

 Aevar traveled through the woods of the Isinfier for many hours until he heard the cries of a bear from over a hill. As he crested a hill, he saw the bear, a Falmer's arrow piercing its neck. He checked the woods for the Falmer (for that is what they were, though some say they are not), and finding none, approached the beast. He spoke soothing words and came upon it slowly, saying, "Good Beast, I mean you no harm. The All-Maker has sent me to ease your suffering.

"Hearing these words, the bear ceased his struggles, and laid his head at Aevar's feet. Aevar grasped the arrow and pulled it from the bear's neck. Using the little nature magic he knew, Aevar tended the wound, though it took the last bit of his strength. As the bear's wound closed, Aevar slept.When he awoke, the bear stood over him, and the remains of a number of the Falmer were strewn about. He knew that the Good Beast had protected him during the night.

and later

Aevar traveled again through the Hirstaang Forest, searching for the seeds of the First Tree, but he could find none. Then he spoke to the Tree Spirits, the living trees. They told him that the seeds had been stolen by one of the Falmer (for they are the servants of the Adversary), and this Falmer was hiding them deep in the forest, so that none would ever find them.

Aevar traveled to the deepest part of the forest, and there he found the evil Falmer, surrounded by the Lesser Tree Spirits. Aevar could see that the Spirits were in his thrall, that he had used the magic of the Seeds and spoken their secret name. Aevar knew he could not stand against such a force, and that he must retrieve the seeds in secret.

Aevar reached into his pouch and drew out his flint. Gathering leaves, he started a small fire outside the clearing where the Falmer and the ensorcelled Spirits milled. All the Skaal know the Spirits' hatred of fires, for the fires ravage the trees they serve. At once, the Nature of the Spirits took hold, and they rushed to quell the flames. During the commotion, Aevar snuck behind the Falmer and snatched the pouch of Seeds, stealing away before the evil being knew they were gone.

In Bloodmoon itself, you re-enact this story and the local Rieklings play the part of the Falmer.  Also in Bloodmoon most people in Solstheim think that the Rieklings are the Falmer. In game, you meet an Altmer scholar who insists that the Falmer are not Rieklings, and recruits you to find proof of the true ancient Falmer, but he is very much in the minority. The line

He checked the woods for the Falmer (for that is what they were, though some say they are not),

seems to be referring to this dispute and the Skaal narrator siding with the idea Falmer are Rieklings. 

Summary: the Skaal seem to have preserved ancient traditions of the Falmer as enemies of the Nords in past wars. As there are no Falmer remaining on Solstheim, those traditions have been displaced onto the Rieklings.

[lil-biscuits]

Some more brain rot I forgot to post here

[foamimi]

[cescalr]

For the Minecraft asks! 🐺 Do you tend to tame wolves? 🌲Favourite tree and type of wood? 🎒 What items do you typically keep on your hotbar?📅 How long have you been playing minecraft?

Heyo :D

Wolf; I prefer to tame cats, because they scare away creepers and I'm terrible at keeping an eye on my surroundings, but if I have bones on me and there's a wolf near by, I don't go out of my way to avoid taming them :) they're useful, mostly admittedly because I'm bad at the 'new' combat system - can't see the bar to know the timing, and I have a terrible internal sense of such.

Tree; I'm partial to acacia trees and dark oak wood! Spruce, I like a lot, just not as much. Birch is painfully bright, while jungle is pretty situational and oak is just... kinda there.

Hotbar;

I like an organised inventory. From left to right; slot 1 - sword, then axe, pickaxe, shovel, followed by a slot that I swap between etc tools like hoes + shears + flint and steel, next is a water bucket because I'm clumsy and blind and likely to fall off things, and next is food, then torches. If I used elytra (I've never actually bothered to go get any yet since they were introduced; I tend to play on modded older versions) I'd swap the bucket out for rockets, probably! I make space for blocks as and when I need them availible, usually instead of etc tools and the water bucket. I like modded mc bc I like adding the hold alt to hotswap items from the inventory column above each hotbar slot mod - let's me free up some space by doubling up options so I can have some availability for quick access to blocks :). Mods my beloved qol changers lol

Calendar; Oh, forever, lol. Been playing minecraft snce I was 12-ish, 2012/13 or so! 1.7 would be the version of the game I started on, plus the legacy console edition. Really got into it in 2015, though - I was very busy playing skyrim in 2012&13, and besides yogs semi-scripted was still going strong then so there was less of a need for me to play it myself, since I could just watch a whole bunch of really funky stories unfold, and my computer at the time couldn't run modded well at all, and I prefer a modded experience in most modable games I play. :) but nearly all the stuff I watched in 2012-14 was dead and gone by 15, only flux buddies really remained, so I had reason to play it myself again (and doubly so Gopher was back to playing Bethesda games, so I didn't need to play those myself either, which spared up time for important things like my GCSEs, lmao). Anyway, I spend most of my time in 1.12 or 1.18, lately, though of course I did a stint in 1.16 and I'm trying out 1.19, though I'm considering waiting until 1.20 is fully established to move onto newer modpacks properly rather than just .easing around a bit and then going back to good ol' stoneblock or hexxit or what have you. I'm not a fully old school player, beta mc had a lot of things I'm not a major fan of and I do believe most additions since have improved the game - but I am a fan of the old school mods, so there's that, I guess. Can't help the Nostalgia :D. Plus, some of them are just good. Little Tiles is a great mod for builders, for example. Anyway, that's getting way off topic, lol.

Thanks for sending these in!!

[wispstalk]

I'd love to know more about The Wizard Adderall

Thank you for asking because he is stealing the show in my mind lately. I wrote a piece introducing him that I think touches on What His Deal Is, but this is a very rough early draft and not a final product

Of all the things Gil expected to learn on his journey north, “how to walk” was not among them.

Abi, his traveling companion, has apparently mastered new heights in the art of getting from one place to another. Tall and sturdy and broad-backed, yet she moves through the woods without making a sound. The fox-walk, she calls it. And as they pick their careful way through the wild edges of Skyrim, she insists he do the same.

Outside the lush enclave of the Celecire estate, he is learning strange new depths to all sorts of basic things. Walking, but silent and hyper-aware. Eating, mechanically and often. She even lights their campfires with a flint and steel, which seems somehow more arcane than a spell. He tried it once and scraped his knuckles raw on the striker.

His companion can cast a spark from her fingers as well as he can, and heal a scrape or a bruise, but she said her parents were from Hammerfell, and taught her not to bank her survival on fickle magicks. Gil has not managed to wheedle much more from her. Abi is spare with her words and artful with her deflections, answering questions with questions. She seems content to give Gil an opportunity to discuss his favorite topic: himself.

“And so,” he concludes as they walk, “that’s when the beast awoke from its long slumber and finally flicked off the tick. I’ve enough in my purse for tuition and passage by ship to Winterhold, which I suppose was a small price to pay to be rid of their most feckless son.”

“Poor you,” she says, smiling catlike. “You mean to tell me you could have taken a ship? With a private cabin, no doubt.”

“Poor me,” he agrees. “Feckless I might be, but I know my arithmetic. If this is the last I’ll squeeze out of them, I thought it wise to go to Cyrodiil and cross on foot. I have two of them, after all, how hard can it be?”

Abi lets out a soft, good-natured chuckle; it’s the third time in a week he’s gotten a laugh out of his guide and he is inordinately pleased with himself. But then: “Speaking of feet, mind yours.”

“Ah…” He sighs and resumes his stilted fox-walk. “Well, I only thought… we’re making plenty of noise.”

“Practice now for the times when we shouldn’t.”

Gil winces. Yesterday, his bumbling loud footfalls had flushed out the ptarmigan in Abi’s sights. Fresh off the glacial wasteland of the Pale Pass, it would have been their first warm meal in days. She had calmly replaced the arrow in her quiver and led them on, and not an hour later she shot a rabbit.

She seemed pleasantly surprised, he recalls with grim satisfaction, when he proved himself perfectly capable of skinning and gutting it.

That aside, he is certain his corpse would litter the Pale Pass if he had not met her in that Bruma outfitter’s shop. Couldn’t even count on a daring death by misadventure; more likely he would fall under the weight of an overloaded pack and flail like an upturned beetle until the cold claimed him. Death comes for everyone, he knows, but he can still hope that his own won’t be too humiliating.

They stop at a fork in the road to drink deeply from their waterskins, and Abi crouches beneath the shade of a pine to examine her map. The side trail, she explains, ought to speed their progress down the mountain’s back, if Gil can bear a little bushwhacking.

She stands with her chin tilted, surveying the landscape, extracting meaning before Gil’s mind can parse it as more than a morass of dun and green. But there is a symmetry that draws the eye. Long, low hummocks line the path, like prostrate supplicants to the majestic boulder that looms ahead.

“Oh, they’re barrows!” Gil squints at the boulder, where some remnants of a carved arch can be seen beneath the beard of lichen. Maybe he can convince her to stop and take their midday meal here— he’d like to dig out his charcoal and parchment and take a rubbing.

Abi grimaces. “I hadn’t intended to lead us through a graveyard.”

Ah, he thinks, so much for stopping. “It’s an old land,” he assures her. “Everywhere we walk we are flanked by the dead.”

She blinks at that, but carries on. In the silence Gil hears his footfalls crunching in the pinestraw and adjusts. Heel to the ground, roll to the outside, carefully place the toes. It’s a good trick on her part: making him so absorbed in his footfalls he doesn’t notice how they accumulate.

After a time he is gliding along in a breezy and confident rhythm, sure he’ll be soon be walking Skyrim’s forests with a wolfish grace that rivals that of his guide, until he runs blindly into her outstretched arm.

She stands stock still, watching something in the dappled underbrush with sudden sharp alertness. One hand reaches smoothly back to draw an arrow from her quiver. Gil arrests the breath in his lungs, and his heart pounds in the hopes of a nice fat greasy bird for dinner.

Her unwavering gaze narrows, then widens. She whispers, “Gil, run.”

“No,” he says, half to himself, watching the frost troll burst from the underbrush with a hoot of rage, “no, I think I’d better not.”

Quick despite its odd loping gait, the troll bears down on them. It’s crossed half the distance by the time she nocks her arrow. Gil sets his jaw and taps his staff firmly to the ground.

Shadows waver through the veil all around him. Impressions of lives lived and lost. There is something resting in the bowels of this mountain that even he won’t trifle with, but plenty of garden-variety warrior sorts to choose from. The binding that he speaks is swallowed by a crash, a shower of dust and rock and sod, as the withered corpse bursts from the barrow.

At once, it hurls itself snarling at the troll. Abi wheels backward with a yelp, collides with Gil. He spares enough of his awareness to steady her with his free hand.

He was lucky to raise one buried with a sword. The thrall itself is fragile and dry as a paper wasp’s nest. The troll takes one of its arms out with one clean swipe. Gil bears down with his will, holding images in his mind of that rusty old sword restored to its former beauty, of glorious battle, of Sovngarde and other such Nordly things that might call upon the shade of its former life and inspire it to greater fury.

The thrall plunges its sword into the troll’s belly with a rattling cry. As the creature falls, it stands inert, waiting for its next command, staring out at nothing through empty sockets. Gil unfurls the white-knuckled hand around his staff and releases it back to its rest.

Silence. Abi is no longer clutching his arm. Her eyes, wide as saucers, track the corpse as it shambles to the destroyed barrow.

“You just.” She does not meet his eye. “You’re a.”

“It’s— well. I used to explore ruins in the Isles.” He twirls his hand in a gesture of weak apology. “And I’ve never liked fighting.”

“I see.” She straightens, adjusts the strap of her rucksack, and turns on her heel to continue down the path.

Gil’s heart sinks. He likes Abi. It cheered him to think he might have a friend to visit in Solitude, once she settles into her smithing work there. He’d hoped their meeting was a sign that he hadn’t done a very stupid thing in leaving; planned to make up for his ineptitude in Falkreath, where his gold will spend.

He got what he wanted, he thinks sourly: he finally made himself useful, and in doing so, lost his only friend in the province.

“I apologize,” he says, for what must be the hundredth blunder on this journey. “I might have warned you. It’s a rather… delicate…”

“I’m glad to be alive, Gil, and that’s that.” She pauses and allows him to catch up. “You are well-mannered, for a necromancer.”

He gives her a watery grin, and then deflates with a shiver. The chill of the grave presses close to him. It will for hours yet.

Speaking the bindings burns his throat like spiced metheglin and leaves the taste of decay on his tongue. This death opens with bitter notes of copper and cold, giving way to a soft finish that lingers on the palate. A burst of blood leaching into the snow and then a gentle, muffled descent into the dark.

He suppresses a gag and spits the foul flavor to the ground, scuffing it into the leaves with the toe of his boot.

“Eugh. Sorry.” He fishes into his coat for a handkerchief to dab his mouth.

Abi regards him with a dubious wrinkle to her nose. She turns her head and spits in answer; a projectile glob lands among the duff with a percussive splat.

A delighted grin splits Gil’s face. “Godsblood! That was magnificent. How can you spit so far?”

“One thing at a time,” she says, and turns back to the road. “Master your fox-walk, and next I’ll teach you proper spitting.”

[mareenavee]

The World on Our Shoulders | Chapter 14: Please Don't Forget About Me

12th of Morning Star 4E 202

Athis woke with a chill. The house was cold, which was unusual. A draft blew through the old walls. He flipped over in bed. He only saw the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller on her nightstand. Her journal, silver comb and looking glass were gone, which meant Nyenna was already awake and getting ready for the day. Why was it so cold, then? Maybe she ran out of firewood. They’d been busy, so he hadn’t had a chance to buy any from Belethor. He couldn’t even tell what time it was at first glance out their window, because there was a hell of a storm blowing through the city. Winter in Skyrim was a cruel beast sometimes. He had plans to convince Nyenna to try to make peace with Delphine, but he wasn’t about to march her into a blizzard. They could rest another day. At this point, what more harm could it do? They were safe enough in Whiterun both from dragons and Thalmor. All he wanted was for her mind to be at ease. It was easier to fight without a load of other worries buzzing around in one’s brain like so many bees.

He stretched and got out of bed. He rubbed his face and realized he’d never washed off his warpaint. It had been a trying time the night before. Too much soothing and comforting to remember the details. He smiled at the memory, and bent to retrieve his discarded clothes and find his hair tie. Her clothes were nowhere to be seen. Funnily enough, neither was her armor. She had mentioned wanting to clean off the evidence of their battle with the Thalmor. Maybe that’s what she was up to. He dressed and wandered downstairs.

The kitchen area was grey and silent. She had either snuffed out the candles or hadn’t bothered to light them, which was strange. He grumbled to himself as he groped around in a cabinet for flint and some straw pieces to light them himself. He tossed a log – of which there were plenty – on the hearth and lit the fire pit, too. He cursed himself for forgetting the Flames spell again. He was shit at magic, really, but it did make things much easier. And he did know that one, sort of. It was just that she had all this covered every day in less than a quarter of the time and he had gotten used to it. He got to the sconce behind the table and noticed something a bit odd. There was a pouch of gold on the table, sat upon a small leaf of parchment. She hadn’t left a to-do list for him since before the wedding. These were things she usually covered before he could even wake up in the morning. To be fair, a lot of their housework had gone by the wayside in the last few days. He didn’t mind if she split some of it. Terrible that the storm struck while she was out on errands, though. He smiled as he reached for the parchment. If they had to be out in the snow, might as well start a snowball fight. The last time he had, half the town had joined in. How she’d laughed, then. It was a good idea – she needed that kind of joy after yesterday.

He frowned after he unfolded the letter, feeling suddenly like he’d been knocked on his backside. It wasn’t a to-do list at all. -> Read the rest on AO3