#verandis brainworms?? how dare u old man

[pocket-vvardvark]

WIP wednesday

Ty for the tag @skyrim-forever @theoneandonlysemla @sulphuricgrin @thequeenofthewinter !!! <3

I'd like to tag: @scholarlyhermit @fangsandsoftgrass @aviel-the-trans-bucket @progmetol @sanza-17 @madamefluffnstuff @lathepoquerose @kiir-do-faal-rahhe @yansurnummu no pressure! <33

Okay, the Angelica and Verandis thing was not supposed to progress into...whatever this is, but ya hot ancient vampire man has me dead lol

Under the cut bc it's long asf so sorry lol 😭

It was a surprisingly slow day at Castle Ravenwatch. With everyone working on their respective reports, Verandis sat in his office contemplating Gwendis’ recent findings. Maybe it was time to take a break as his thoughts began to drift towards the recent hero of Rivenspire and the woman he met last night. Different as they might be, it was perplexing that the more he pondered, the more he found similarities between his newly trusted associate and Angelica. Perhaps it was their striking red hair, or the alabaster hue of their skin, both of which they seemed to possess. Frowning, Verandis searches his brain further for similarities beyond mere flesh, but he doesn't know enough about the blasted scamp to explore that possibility. 

Sighing, the count moves away from the piles of papers on his desk. He walks towards the halls, stepping down the corridor until he reaches the stairs. The scent of another catches his attention. From behind the great doors of castle Ravenwatch is the thundering pulse of someone’s heartbeat. A few people come to mind, but only one stands out to him—Angelica. Gods, it would be far too soon to put up with her antics. There she is, standing outside with the grin of a banekin. Clutching the door with barely concealed aggravation, he takes her appearance in. Wearing nothing but a low-cut dress and a wide-brimmed hat, she’s patting blush upon her cheeks. 

“Darling.” A row of straight, pearly whites are flashed as she slips the compact down her bra.

A sharp breath leaves his nostrils in an attempt to remain polite, fingers digging into the doorframe.

“Ah, Angelica. What can I do for you?” Hopefully, she would take the flatness in his voice as a hint to scurry off.

Preening, she parts her hair to the side before giving him her full attention. 

“Oh, don’t worry, it’s nothing…nefarious.” Her reference to their prior conversation greatly vexes him. Unfortunately, his annoyance increases the pleasure in her expression fivefold. 

“Of course, just as you implied the other day. I’ll believe you.” 

She proudly states the words left unsaid, “Until I give you a reason not to? How pragmatic, count.” Winking, she allows herself in at his behest. Promptly shutting the door, Verandis watches with tired eyes as Angelica prances forth.

His lips press into a firm line just as the rowdiest of his wards bounds down the stairs, haphazardly skipping steps. The red-headed bosmer’s steps change at the sight of Angelica. Stalking forward, her hands grip the belt which holds a pair of twin axes. 

Clearing his throat, Verandis prepares to introduce the eccentric woman by his side to end whatever dispute his ward would no-doubt initiate. 

“Verandis, who’s this? She smells like…decay.” 

Odd as it was, Gwendis was correct. Whether it was from dealings with the undead or alchemical ingredients, he couldn’t be sure why Angelica’s scent lingered with grave dust and stale dirt pitifully masked with expensive perfume.

Angelica taps his ward’s wrinkled nose much to the shorter vampire’s chagrin, “Caught that, did you? This little darling sure has a nose on her, hm?” Feigning thought, she stamps a heel against the marbled floor, “As much as I adore practicing the necromantic arts, I do so loathe the fragrance of death it brings along with it.”

Gwendis’ brows shoot up to her hairline, preparing to stagger forward and cut Angelica into ribbons. Verandis promptly waves a hand, stopping her would-be assault.

“Gwendis, please.” He exasperates, brows pinched painfully, “She is a…guest.” Uninvited guest, really.

Squinting, Gwendis gives Angelica one more once-over before finally lowering her hackles. 

“Fine, but I’ll be watching you…”

Sensing Gwendis’ grasp of her name, she provides it with a ridiculously theatrical bow. 

“Angelica Wintersong.” Dramatically flaunting her arms in fanfare, she raises her head, “Necromancer, translator, and the occasional alchemist, at your disposal.”

Verandis and Gwendis share a look—confusion mixed with disbelief. 

Tilting her head, Gwendis studies Angelica with a suspicious squint, a thumb and fore-finger pinching her ivory-colored chin. 

"Wintersong? No way, you’re—”

Letting out an undignified snort before Gwendis can speak further, Angelica wipes an imaginary tear from her already oozing smoky-eye. “Alethia’s sister? You didn’t truly think my appearance was a mere coincidence, did you?”

The air is much lighter now that her connection with their trusted ally is known. Alethia is a proud associate of House Ravenwatch, so he hoped they would get used to her sister’s presence as well. 

Pushing her long hair off her shoulder, Angelica rests her hands upon her hips. With a twinkle in her eye that spells trouble, she and the count exchange a glance. 

“I’ve decided I'll be staying here, Count.”

The divines must be testing him. “Pardon?” He fumbles slightly, already feeling a headache coming on. 

She shrugs, adjusting her hat, “House troubles.”

“If I recall correctly, that house is new. It appeared to be fine, but I suppose this is the part where you tell me about the, ah, house troubles you so delicately put?”

Curling a red strand around her pointer finger, Angelica sighs wistfully, lips pulled into a pout, “Is it such a crime that I wish to be near the father of my child?”

A chill fills the depths of his stomach; had he remembered incorrectly? Did something happen that night she pulled him in like a moth drawn to a flame? If he weren't so controlled, surely his cheeks would have been aflame with embarrassment. Ignoring Gwendis' strangled noise of shock, he heaves a sigh and massages the bridge of his nose.

“You—you slept with her?” Too late, Gwendis is already shaking the fabric of his robes in disbelief while pointing at the melodramatically posed woman before him. 

Firmly, but gently tugging her hands off his robes, Verandis gives his ward an exhausted smile. 

“Gwendis, child, leave us for a moment.” The bosmer’s sulk stabs at his heart, but it's for the best that she does not see any more than she has.

“But, why? You're always hiding things from us, Verandis. That's how...how we almost lost you.” 

She was right, of course. The only reason he'd been saved from the clutches of Coldharbour was his ward’s genius paired with Alethia’s assistance. 

Finally, Angelica allows her little ploy to be foiled. Groaning, she waves a playful hand, “Oh, I was only teasing. You didn't touch me, count. Although…” she appears thoughtful, before seizing him with a smile that rivaled the most unrestrained he's ever witnessed.

“I wished you had.” 

Twice now, the air has been cleared, relaxing both the count’s and Gwendis’ stiff posture.

“Must you be this difficult?” Verandis angles the ashen-colored woman with a disapproving frown, brows low in an attempt to stifle her mischievousness. 

Rolling her eyes, she sticks her tongue out childishly, flashing a simple gold piercing that catches the light. 

“Only for you, honey.” Winking, her heels are muffled beneath the carpet as she makes way for the decadent stairwell. 

“You need me by your side, Count. A translator, alchemist, and necromancer?” Checking her nails briefly, she glances upwards, commanding his attention with a strange look. “I'd say you're getting quite the bargain.” 

Mulling over his options, Verandis thinks carefully on Angelica’s offer. Beneath her peculiar persona, he could sense there was a demand in her words—a threat hidden behind a compromise. 

“I'm not entirely convinced of your motives, nor do I wish to involve Alethia in the events that you do become a problem.” It's a diplomatic move to bring her sister into this as an opposing threat to thwart any damage done by Angelica. He does so in hopes she will be tame, if only to save her sister’s good name. 

“But, I do admit we are severely lacking in translators and alchemists. If you wish to stay here, I need to know you'll behave accordingly.”

Her gaze from the stairway softens into something familiar. Alethia often made the same expression after healing an injured ally or double-checking on his or his ward’s faculties.

Leaning forward, she rests her cheek on her palm with a faraway look.

“Count.” Their eyes meet, and he is enraptured by her stare. No longer the calamitous silver that beckons a storm, they are softer with a touch of warmth from the midday sun.

Exploring his own carmine orbs, her smile lessens into something genuine.

“I am trouble, but not without purpose. You'll have to put your trust in me until I can return the favor, but…I can promise you one thing.” Her lashes flutter, tilting her head at the perfect angle to capture his heart. 

“I'll protect each and every one of you until my very last breath.” With that odd promise, she takes off bounding upstairs to claim whatever free bed she can. 

Sharing a look with his ward one last time, Verandis’ exasperation tinges with a subtle amount of fondness for this strange woman’s antics. As pesky as she can be, perhaps this alliance would prove beneficial.