The War That Is Bathtime (Qin)

Prompt: Bathtime

 Having a toddler can be exhausting. Having a toddler that hates water is even more exhausting. It’s at times like this, sitting here in the middle of another hectic bathtime, where I find myself strangely grateful for Xu’s motor delay. While she plays with the toys and seems otherwise distracted she still refuses to let me wash her hair and screams if I so much as get it the tiniest bit wet on purpose, though she has no problem if water splashes on either me or her as she plays. Other forms of distraction prove futile though she does not physically protest much, in part due to the delay, the girl has a set of lungs that could rival an opera singer. It’s at this time I consider calling on my mother or even my father for help, though I can’t given the distance, they live much further north. With a sigh I sit back on the towel that sits on the floor for a minute. Xu, having heard my sigh looks at me curiously and babbles something unintelligible. “Mama’s tired and taking a break. Play with your toys.” I tell her, moving one of the toy boats around in the bath to show my point, and that explanation suffices for the moment. After a few minutes of quiet play Xu does something that surprises me and fills up one of the toy boats with water before dumping it over her head, and then repeating the process another two times. I look at her somewhat shocked, she’s never shown that much intentional motor control before nor has she allowed her hair to be soaking wet without throwing a tantrum. She looks at my shocked expression, holds up the boat that is once again filled with water and says to me “wash hair!” before pouring it over her head again and giggling. “You want me to wash your hair now?” I ask, still somewhat shocked at the whole situation and she tells me yes. “And you won’t scream this time?” she shakes her head. Cautiously I go quickly to find the soap, all while scratching my head at the sudden change in demeanor. Xu keeps to her word surprisingly and doesn’t cause much of a fuss at all, even allowing me to brush her hair after it’s been dried. Once the rather astonishing situation that was bathtime is over and Xu has been changed, refused to be put in her crib, and read at least three stories she falls asleep against me as I sit in the rocking chair in her room about to fall asleep myself. Life with a toddler can be exhausting, regardless if bathtime is a war of its own, and overall a strange and ever evolving series of experiences. Looking down at the sleeping little girl in my arms clutching her stuffed guar I find myself thinking that despite the exhaustion that comes with raising a toddler, particularly by myself, I wouldn’t trade it for the world.    

Snowstorm (Farkas)

 “It’s snowing again. Why is it always snowing?!” Anna complains, watching the snow continue to fall steadily outside the window, no different than it’s been doing the past couple of hours. “Because it’s Skyrim and more importantly it’s Windhelm, the snowiest city in an already cold country.” I tell her calmly, not looking up from my work. There’s been an influx of requests for The Companions to deal with issues that fall under my realm of dividing up. Usually those who need to settle arguments, less than savory characters who need reform, and those who need just a bit of intimidation…and in some cases a good punch to the gut. “When will it stop?” Anna asks about the snow sounding almost slightly distressed. That’s enough to cause me to put down the pen and get up to join her at the window and assess the current state of the snowstorm. There’s a decent amount of snow already on the ground, and more comes down heavily as the wind swirls it around and hits against the windows. “Probably by the end of the day tomorrow.” I estimate based on the current conditions and Anna turns to stare at me silently, visibly unhappy and looking as if she might possibly cry. “It’s not that bad, we’re at least inside and have a working heating system.” I point out the slowly dying fire and Anna agrees with my point there, at least we’re not in the Grey Quarter on the other side of the city, but she’s still not happy about things.

Going back to the desk and a seemingly never ending pile of papers I attempt to get back to work. Anna still stares silently out the window watching the snow continue to pile up. Every so often I glance over to find her more or less in the same spot in an almost trance-like state, until once I look up and she’s gone without a trace. Turning to look at where she had been standing I fail to notice someone on my other side. That is, until my right arm is lifted away from where it had been resting on the desk and I register a familiar weight in my lap and the feeling of soft layers of fabric. Turning my head back I’m met with two large silver eyes looking back at me. “Hello.” Anna says with a smile, and seems happy with herself having gotten away with ambushing me. “Hi.” Anna looks at me for a second longer before flopping against me as if she lost all muscle tone in her body, her head resting against my shoulder as she toys with some peeling pieces of paint and wood on the back of the chair. “It’s cold. And snowing. It should stop snowing.” Anna remarks while remaining occupied with the chipping paint. “So you’ve said.” I have a feeling she will continue to remark on the weather until this snowstorm is over. My hypothesis seems to be correct so far, the only breaks occur when I ask her for a bit of help with what I’m trying to do, or when asked to list all potential ways she can think of to make herself warmer.

After a number of hours the paper pile is conquered at last, with just enough time to have a quick meal and go to bed. With the last candle blown out climbing into the soft bed is something I’d been looking forward to since I left it this morning, especially in this weather. While appreciative of the warm softness Anna seems intent on not sleeping, or at least not immediately, and reminds me of a few ideas from her earlier list. Unsurprisingly being confined to relatively boring tasks for long periods of time can bring out her more mischievous side, particularly at night. Most of her moods and emotions are more intense at night. I’m very glad I lack the physical need for sleep, and there are worse ways to spend a snowstorm.

A Sunset In The East (Valan)

Prompt: A sunset in the east

Azura’s coast has a habit of being unfortunately quite rainy. Combine the rain with the fact the region is sparsely habited and it’s not hard to see why one could easily get depressed living here. I however enjoy it, the quietness gives me space to think without distraction. While I also enjoy the business of cities it can be overwhelming, sometimes confusing, and overall distracting. So, I retreat to the coast when I need to clear my head, and now is one such example. Caius on my last visit to Balmora had given me some rather unsettling information on top of some very strange experiences I had while there that may explain my recurring strange dreams. Considering my only living quarters in the city would be the inn where I would be hounded by Habisi about why I’m not doing jobs for her, or sleeping on Caius’ floor unless I wanted to sleep on Qin’s floor I opted to leave as soon as I could. 

While I considered going west to Vivec to talk to Eno about what Caius had told me I opted to head east, stopping in Suran briefly, and then Tel Vos to say hello to Ayron, before ending up on the secluded rocky coast. I can see the outline of Sadrith Mora in the distance, the largest settlement in the region, which is still quite small in the scheme of things. Tel Fyr lies to the west of where I had set up camp almost directly west of Sadrith Mora where no doubt Fyr is continuing to conduct his sometimes insane experiments. I’ll worry about what insanity he, and Ayron, and Neloth, and the rest of those who serve on the Council are up to another day.

 Having set up my little camp and started a fire I make dinner quickly, it is simple but filling enough. Guar wander in the distance looking for their own dinner and cliffracers fly overhead, sometimes diving into the sea and grabbing fish. The sun is beginning to slowly set casting scatters of glimmering light onto the water. Having finished my meal and put away the now clean bowl I drag a small mat out from my pack and set it down by the water before sitting down. The quietness of the uninhabited coast is calming, with only the sound of the waves crashing against the shore and the few animals milling about, it’s peaceful. Taking a deep breath I close my eyes, meditating for a while to clear my head. I open my eyes again when I notice it is beginning to rain slightly, which is not atypical for the region, it will most likely stop soon. With that knowledge I continue to sit and think, it is likely many things will change in the coming weeks and months, but one can always be sure the run will rise in the east and set in the west, even when watching a sunset in the east.

 

An Early Grave (Lucien)

 A/N: Happy spooky season and happy Halloween it's a two post in one day event for the occasion :)

The burial practices of the Dunmer have always fascinated me, as they do not bury their dead in the way we do in the west. Rather, they cremate their dead and keep the ashes in highly decorated ceremonial urns, or pits of ash and bone. “From the ash, and to the ash returned.” Valan once told me, as a way of summarizing. I didn’t think my own remains would end up the same way, or that I would take to such an early grave. My body was so broken burying it would take more time and money than cremation, and so now my ashes sit on a shelf in the sanctuary…most of them anyways, some had been returned to High Rock, and scattered into the Iliac Bay, one of the few places I had fond memories of from my childhood. In my current state I have found that more people than expected have too met an early demise, whether through battle, foul play, or simply natural causes. The spirits of Falkreath have many interesting stories to tell. While primarily Nordic, Breton, and Imperial there are a few Altmer spirits interred in the blood soaked ground. Within the confines of the graveyard there is also a tiny Dunmeri ancestral shrine, an almost lantern shaped stone structure no more than a foot tall encircled with a small pit of ash. Compared to the ancient gravestones that have fallen into disrepair and become covered with moss, the shrine is almost pristine. Late one night while the rest of the town sleeps, and the members of the Falkreath sanctuary either rest or plot their next moves, I wander through the graveyard, paying respects to the dead, and cleaning the graves if I can. Not many of the spirits of the dead buried here are out tonight, only a few walk the empty streets unseen by the guards on patrol. Many are old warriors who perished in one of the countless battles that took place in this otherwise sleepy town. The ghostly dog that guards the graveyard, who I have taken to calling Grim, helps with cleaning the headstones and tending to the graves as well as alerting should guards pass by. While the guards can see me due to my rather unique nature, they don’t seem to be overly surprised, and most ignore me. Either that, or they’re intimidated by the large black dog growling at them in the darkness, I don’t know, nor do I particularly care. As the night continues on Grim and I sit in the graveyard for a bit to rest when I notice a single figure come riding into town and as he passes I recognize it’s Everan. He must be passing through to Riverwood to meet with Delphine, the poor excuse for a Blades agent. I consider calling out to him but it is late and I do not want to startle him, he is likely tired, and so I let him pass without disturbance. Shortly after I sense something is off, I hear what sounds like humming, and Grim gets up from where he had been laying and starts trotting off in the direction of the small shrine. Scrambling to my feet I quickly follow the large dog until we come upon a strange sight. Sitting on the stones by the shrine looking in the direction of the inn is a young girl, who seems almost familiar, her face illuminated by the light of a lantern placed next to her. “Do I know you?” I ask the girl “You look familiar.” At that she turns to me and Grim, who goes up to her and puts his head in her lap, awaiting pets. “I don’t think so. What’s your name? And who is this?” She asks me while giving Grim a pat on the head. The ghostly dog wags his tail happily in response. “My name is Lucien LaChance, and this is Grim. He guards this graveyard, I just come visit every so often.” I explain and the girl seems to recognize my name “Oh, you know my brother!” Her brother? Who could be her brother? I hope I didn’t kill her brother…the issue with Mathieu and his mom was more than enough. “He’s staying at the inn he just got here, I like to see what he’s doing sometimes if there’s a shrine nearby, unless he summons for help.” Now who do I know that’s staying at the inn and is at least part Dunmer? Not Valan, his dad is the summoned spirit of choice, and he’s an only child. Teldryn as far as I know is still freezing in Raven Rock, and Qin is older than he is and still alive unless something terrible has happened since I last saw her, and Talvas has no siblings nor is he on the continent at the moment either. That only leaves Everan, ah that makes sense! “You’re Leah Thenath aren’t you?” Though it took me a while to figure out she seems happy that I was able to do so. Wow Everan was right, his sister did die very young…very very young. While she is still technically older than me, it seems she was no more than around six years old when she died, or as she corrects me later, was murdered. Her body was never recovered, and so due to her mixed ancestry she takes the form of a wandering ancestral spirit, preferring to follow her brother unseen except when necessary. “I don’t really talk to him, I don’t want him to feel bad.” Even after all these years Everan still blames himself, even though he too was a child. Now I think I understand why it is he and Issy get along so well, both carry the invisible weight of siblings, and friends, who took to an early grave. Little do they know, we form our own little community, one caught between the world of the living and the world of the dead. Gone, but not entirely, and certainly not forgotten.

Never Argue With A Dark Guardian (Lucien)

A/N: this silly prompt has been sitting around forever so I finally decided to finish it, happy Halloween!

 Prompt: arguing

They say to never argue with a dark guardian, or any sort of undead, it won’t go anywhere. “Dennis, what are your thoughts on Breton cheese compared to Imperial cheese? Which is better?” I ask the dark guardian who stands lurking in his usual spot. While he lacks the ability to speak he is capable of conversing in his own way, usually through various noises and some gestures. I debate making him some sort of alternative communication system using pictures though I’m not sure he would be all that interested in using it. After asking if he likes Breton cheese or if he prefers Imperial cheese again I get a noise for the latter. “Really?! To think I overheard the guards the other day saying how they need to import some more things from Wayrest!” The skeleton makes a scoffing sound at the mention of the city of Wayrest, which I am inclined to agree with, in all honesty. “Alright then, which is a better city then, Wayrest or Daggerfall?” On that topic we agree that Daggerfall is the superior city, though not before arguing about which neighborhoods are the best. We spend the better part of an hour arguing about a variety of topics, mostly about cheese though as it's on the list of groceries I need to get. Eventually the time comes for me to get going into town to do the tasks written on my neglected to do list. “I’ll be back around five, do you want anything?” I ask Dennis while collecting my things and beginning to climb the ladder to the surface. Dennis makes three distinct noises that almost sound like words. “Okay okay, I’ll get apples, hay, and see if I can find some fish bones.” With my answer I get a happy sounding noise before the dark guardian wanders off out of sight into the rest of the fortress. Why he wants those things specifically is beyond me, unless he meant the apples and hay for Shadowmere and the fish bones for some other reason. Fish bones can be whittled into surprisingly useful things.

Reaching the top of the ladder I open the trap door to the surface and climb out into the fresh air. The sun is shining and it has since dried up from the rain storm we had the night before. Before heading into the city itself I stop and give Shadowmere her breakfast and refill her water before setting off. With the list of tasks securely in one of my many pockets and a batch of poisoned apples at hand I head for the sanctuary to drop them off and check in with the group there. I might even say hello to Frank, the dark guardian who guards the sanctuary. He was the first dark guardian I ever encountered, and previously did not have a name, though he has inhabited the sanctuary much longer than anyone currently there, not unlike Dennis and his companions at Fort Farragut. Frank unfortunately is not as talkative and while he acknowledges me usually does not engage in any sort of conversation. He is good to bounce ideas off of at least, a silent and non judgemental listener. Giving the city guards a quick nod in greeting as I pass through the gates they wish me a good morning. First I make a quick stop at the sanctuary beneath the abandoned house, saying good morning to those who are there and handing the batch of poisoned apples off to Issy who will need them for a contract she needs to complete. “Morning, Frank.” I say to the dark guardian in passing as I wander through the sanctuary and he seems to wave almost in reply. Setting the bag of apples on one of the tables I ask how everyone is today and the answer seems to be tired. That’s fair, I would be lying if I said I wasn’t tired too. “Why is it you talk to the guardian and give him a name?” Matthieu, a newer member asks with a mix of curiosity and judgment in his voice. I never know quite what to say to Matthieu considering when I was a child I killed his mother as part of one of my first contracts. “It humanizes them. They were living people at one point after all.” At that answer Matthieu furrows his brows in thought and eventually gets up, leaving the table most likely to go think more about the matter. With the apples handed over and everyone has been checked in with, I continue with the rest of my day, Issy following me out of the sanctuary before we part ways for the time being. My next stop is to visit some of the shops and cross off the rest of what is on my to do list.

Cheydinhal does have a nice market, and for a smaller city or large town is quite nice really. The diverse population makes it easy to find things not easily found in other parts of the country, specifically food. I stop for lunch and a cup of tea in between errands and run into one of the more notable residents, a famous painter, who had come in for lunch as well. His paintings are said to be magical due to a special brush he uses, Issy apparently had to rescue him from one of the inside of his own paintings at one point. Lucky for me he knows me well enough at this point to sit with me while we eat and converse. He doesn’t know what I do of course, but he knows me by sight from seeing me around the town for so many years. “Have you ever had an argument with a dark guardian?” I ask the painter who thinks the question is a joke and answers he has not. “It’s an interesting experience, they're not the most talkative you know. Everybody says ‘Oh never argue with a dark guardian you won’t get anywhere!’ but it is a surprisingly useful exercise regarding how to properly argue.” The painter makes a sound in between sipping his tea and makes a note of it for the next time he ever needs to summon something. With lunch finished we go our separate ways. I have a few more errands to do, and he has a painting to finish, but not before offering to pay for lunch and refusing to take no for an answer. My argument for paying for myself proved futile. It is nice at least to have some extra money for groceries. By the time dusk begins to fall all the things on my to do list are completed and I pass through the gates once more heading up the hill to go home.

 “Dennis, I’m back and I got what you wanted!” I call from the top of the ladder and climb down, groceries in hand. I hear the sound of running feet that come skidding to a stop at the gate that separates my living space from the rest of the fort. Unpacking the bags I toss one of the fish bones to Dennis and it lands at his feet “as requested.” The skeleton picks up the bone and wanders off into the darkness, probably to go show his friends. Shadowmere had already gotten her hay and an apple or two, with the rest for me. While I work on making a simple dinner Dennis returns to his usual spot and makes a noise directed at me. “You can’t have my dinner.” I tell the skeleton who grunts again unhappily. “It will go right through you.” I reiterate pointing my wooden spoon in his general direction between stirs. We go back and forth while the dish cooks before he stomps off, unhappy he can’t have my stew made of leftover vegetables and some meat that needs to be eaten. “This is why they say never argue with a dark guardian!” I yell to Dennis, as I know he can still hear me even if he’s out of sight. At least the day is done, and I have my dinner. While dark guardians make for interesting companions, they can still get on one's nerves, even if arguing with them is a good exercise in logic.

The Midnight Diner (Issy)

Issy's birthday fic- late night diner adventures with Baurus, enjoy!

 By some unknown means we had forgotten to eat dinner at a reasonable hour, and by the time we remembered the clock was striking midnight. Looking around I realize there isn’t much to eat, and Luther has most likely gone to bed by now leaving the bar downstairs closed. “Well, Baurus, any ideas?” I ask the blade while we continue searching the room for anything remotely edible, the feeling of hunger growing by the minute now that it’s been realized. Baurus stops rifling through the container he’d been looking in and stands still for a minute seemingly thinking before his face changes and he throws up a hand, like a light had gone on in his head. “There’s a diner a few streets over that’s open all night.” I mean to ask him why he hadn’t remembered that before but then again for the amount of time I spend in the imperial city I hadn’t remembered either, and so I hold my tongue. Baurus adds he can’t remember the name of it but he knows where it is. With a plan in place we manage to quickly put on shoes and coats, and head off into the night.

The air is getting colder now with the changing of the seasons, something Baurus has never liked, and complains about as we walk. The district is almost eerily quiet with everyone asleep on this cloudy almost starless night. Luckily for Baurus the diner is not far and we reach it quickly, sitting down in one of the booths by the window. A waitress comes and gives us menus to look over, asking if we’d like coffee while we decide on what to order. Coffee, or any warm drink, sounds delightful on a night like this. With an order for two coffees, one black and one with cream and sugar, she leaves us to browse the menu. “I feel like you’d come here often, Baurus, with how frequently you seem to wind up in the city.” He shrugs, saying he used to come here more often while being a member of the emperor's guard and was living in the city itself. Now he really only comes to gather information to bring back to Jauffre. The conversation falters after that as we silently look over the menu deciding what to eat. I settle on pancakes, it’s been too long since I’ve had them and I’m rather tired of eating scrambled eggs.

The waitress returns the two cups of  coffee and awaits our orders, leaving with a paper to give the cook saying one order of pancakes and an omelet. While we wait and drink our coffees  I tell Baurus of my newfound borderline dislike for eggs and he shares he feels the same way about oatmeal. Both fine every now and again, tiring if you have them frequently because there’s no other options worth eating. The streets remain quiet in these early hours of the morning, only the guards patrol outside the window. Eventually the waitress returns with our food and the check to pay when we’re ready. With a brief midnight toast Baurus and I tap our mugs together before beginning to eat our meal that I’m not quite sure whether to classify as dinner or breakfast. It is a meal, and it is not a bad one at that. In the end, as Baurus and I sit with our unclassifiable meal of eggs and pancakes under the dim glow of the diner lights at a strange hour of the morning, I think that’s all that matters.

Like Any Other Day (Lucien)

A/N: See this video for the accompanying music.

Grief can be a funny thing. Some days it is overwhelming and hangs over one like a heavy wool blanket, seemingly inescapable. Other days it is more elusive, a hidden enemy waiting for a time to strike when least expected when one is going about their day. Today, while in some ways it feels like any other day, at times feels like someone put an anchor in my chest, weighing me down with an invisible mental weight. I don’t come to Cloud Ruler Temple very often, but for some reason I decided to pay a visit and quickly found it was a good thing I did. I don’t think Baurus has completely processed what happened to Martin, I don’t think anyone has, really. Does he admit it? Of course not, but assassins are trained to be perceptive, and I know the stubborn agent well enough to see through his mask of happiness. I’m dead, not stupid, after all. Seeing the temple for the first time without a certain former priest in it feels strange. I find Baurus standing silently staring at the door to the west wing bedroom where I had found him so many times before standing watch day and night. He may be the youngest member of the emperor's guard but he is without a doubt the most loyal of them all.

Finding Jauffre alone in the library nearly makes me cry, if I even can cry anymore. Issy is nowhere to be found, having gone almost completely off the grid since the official ending of the crisis. Last I checked she was doing some kind of pilgrimage for the strange prophet that showed up in Anvil who needed help. Jauffre gives me a silent nod of acknowledgment before going back to his writing. I think about asking him what it is he’s writing, but keep the question to myself- it’s most likely something I don’t want to hear. The other blades are sparse around the temple, a few I hear downstairs in the barracks, and there are the four stationed outside, but the rest seem to have been at least temporarily reassigned. It is like any other day in the fortress, and yet not. I’d brought my guitar along, having picked it up from my own fort of sorts when searching for signs of life from Issy and finding one of the many empty tables in the vast great hall begin to unpack it.

You would think a trained assassin would process grief quickly, though I suppose that’s why there’s a reason between cold-blooded killers and bloodthirsty murderers. I may be able to kill effectively, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t have its own effects on me. Having tuned the guitar I begin to play a song I hadn’t heard in years, but for this time seems fitting. “Into a dream through thoughts, don't travel too far, you won’t find the truth anywhere.” First my thoughts go to Issy, seemingly lost in an eternal unending nightmare searching desperately for answers. “I am with you like any other day. Lonely in your world I will come to find a place.” Amidst the grief and loneliness we will reunite again, just like any other day. “Wounded love full of doubts. Thinly condensed heavy baggage in the chambers of the heart.” My thoughts then turn to Baurus, and the emotional toll of losing not one but two emperors under his personal protection. Was there anything he could have done in the end? No, initially there were too many mythic dawn agents and not enough of the guard to hold them off. With Martin he had even less of a choice, Martin being stubborn yet courageous up until the very end.

“A hungry crow comes back to the same place, knocking on your door again, as the day weighs on me.” I think of how empty the temple is, looking around, the only other sounds being the fire, the occasional cough, and the first birds of spring outside the large doors. “Come closer and let the sun rise together with you. Good night, the moon lights up. Let it love you endlessly.” My thoughts turn once again back to Baurus, and the many days of guarding day and night he did without a word of complaint, and watching the sunrise together on the rare visits I would make here while still alive. “Unavoidable rich imagination, empty days with no clear truth or meaning pulls a green stalk into the mouth, pulls another slice in time to heal. Come close…Come close…” Whether through delusion, imagination, prayer, or simply time I think we will learn to live with the grief, and to heal. Having finished, I get an idea and go to pay a visit to Martin's unofficial grave, placing a stone in memoriam next to the statue and talking ‘to him’ for a few minutes, though wherever he is I doubt he can hear me quietly talking to the piece of stone in the snow as twilight falls and darkness sets in. The grief is still there, but that strange and funny feeling will eventually fade and acceptance will take its place. Life will go on, like any other day.