A/N: This could have been a LOT darker but I am tired and don't have the energy to torture you so have some more Lucien and Dennis shenanigans. I remembered the charcoal and paper in the drawers by his little living area so Lucien likes to doodle every so often HC is now a thing.
Prompt: I sit beside the fire and think of people long ago and of people who will see a world that I shall never know
Living alone, while sometimes lonely, does have its perks. My favorite of them is the quiet, followed closely by the ability to be alone. While I like the company of people, they can get tiring after an extended period of time, and having the ability to just sit by myself for a bit proves to be the easiest restorative method. Of course there are always the dark guardians milling about the rest of the fort, and Dennis who seems to particularly like his spot near the gate that separates my little space from theirs, so I’m not truly alone. That is, if one count’s the undead as people. I do, they were once people after all and seem capable of at least understanding very rudimentary things. As I sit by the fire on a cold and rainy night I wonder how old a lot of the dark guardians are. They were here when I moved in, and my guess is they will remain here long after I’m gone, which hopefully won’t be for a very long time. “I’m far too young to die…” I say to myself quietly, knocking the wooden desk nearby after out of habit and precaution. Dennis stands at the gateway staring at me with empty eyeless eye sockets, only an unusual glow fills the space where they once were. Asking the skeleton some questions I come to the conclusion that he has been dead for a very long time indeed, as many of his comrades must be as well. I wonder what people from long ago would think of the world today- would they be scared or in awe of the technological advancements? What would they think of the current crisis? Did they ever think their emperor could be assassinated? Grabbing a piece of scrap paper and a quickly deteriorating piece of charcoal I have a staring contest with Dennis while attempting to sketch what I think he would have looked like. He’s average height, a little short, for a human but not short enough to be an elf and a different build compared to the elven skeletons I’ve seen. He could have been a Breton, or maybe an Imperial. “Dennis, were you a Breton or an Imperial?” I ask not breaking our contest. The skeleton makes a noise at the first option, my guess was right then, that’s helpful. He’s too short to be a nord. That both broadens and narrows down the rest of what his potential features could have been, and he ceases to be helpful after that question. It doesn’t particularly matter anyways, as all I’ve currently got to draw with is charcoal. Everything ends up in various shades of grey. After a bit more blind sketching I finally need to blink before my eyes start to water from lack of blinking. Having lost the staring contest I clean up the sketch a bit before tearing away the unused scrap to save for later and hold the picture up to show the skeleton. “This is what I think you looked like when you were alive.” Dennis makes a noise that sounds like approval. Getting up from the floor I give myself a moment to have my leg wake up again before going over to the small board I have hung on one of the walls near my small and very simple desk. I don’t have a tack at hand so a dagger will do as I hang up the sketch on the board among a few others and some notes of tasks I still need to do. I’ll do those tomorrow, no use in going out tonight, I might as well just sit beside the fire and think.
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