Support Me on Ko-fi!A/N: More undead conversations in Falkreath woooo
Prompt: Moving away from earth more swiftly than light
One thing nobody tells you about death is truly how quick it is in the end, a topic Babette and I find ourselves sitting around the sanctuary discussing one day. My presence in Skyrim always seems to upset the balance of things around here, not that I much care, Astrid and I famously do not get along. Why would we, anyways? She stole Shadowmere right out from Issy’s nose and remarkably managed to get away with it for however a short amount of time until business brought us to this dreary cave system they call a sanctuary and my dear old friend and I were reunited once again.
Only one other person had the audacity to try and steal her and it ended very badly for them, never get between a professional assassin with few close friends and his beloved horse, it shouldn’t be that hard of a rule to follow. Thankfully the sanctuary is relatively quiet today aside from the vampire, a few other permanent members of this little group, and myself. Astrid and Arbjorn went off to go do something, probably a disguised trip into the town of Falkreath itself to get more supplies, looks less strange to have the Nords go walk about where there are primarily other Nords than to send the Redguard, or the Dunmer, or the Argonian…or the glowing undead Breton, I think I might draw just a little attention.
“Did it hurt when you died Babette?” I question the child vampire who is currently attempting to find a comfortable position to sit in with a rather uncomfortable wooden chair. “No. I was asleep when it happened, woke up the next day and I’ve been stuck in this dreaded body ever since.” Being the oldest permanent resident of the sanctuary while having the body of a ten year old girl is something that Babette has never been fond of, though she admits that her young appearance has its own unique gifts when it comes to completing contracts.
If I remember correctly she is fond of taking contracts for perverts, using her young appearance to draw them in by posing as a lost child, and then utilizing her vampirism or simply combat skills to deal with them to devastating effects. Not all the bodies make it out of the ordeal in one piece…serves them right, too. “I’m going to guess for you it wasn’t exactly all sunshine and butterflies when you died.” the vampire states bluntly and I clutch my chest sarcastically “What?! No!! It didn’t hurt one bit being brutally tortured and then eventually slowly killed by the Black Hand!” I respond which makes her stifle a laugh, we both have a heavily sarcastic sense of dark humor. If that’s just our being a product of the times we grew up in, being undead, or some combination I don’t know. “No it uh, it hurt a lot.” I add after a moment's pause, I don’t remember my last moments of living fondly, then everything faded into a cold blackness and before I could register any sort of thought I regained a sense of consciousness in the void. “At least death itself is quick, even if the circumstances leading up to it aren’t always.” Babette states, having finally found a position that was comfortable enough to plop into the chair and relax. I make a noise of agreement but internally my mind wanders, I don’t think I want to talk about this anymore.
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