Misfits With Anger Issues

1. who does your muse hate?

2. how does your muse handle grief?

3. what is your muse’s biggest regret? 

4. how many scars does your muse have?

5. how long can your muse hold a grudge?

6. how does your muse handle loneliness? 

7. what is one of your muse’s greatest fears?

8. what does your muse fear losing the most?

9. does your muse think violence is ever warranted?

10. what is the worst illness your muse has ever had?

11. what would your muse consider their worst failing?

12. does your muse tend to push themselves too hard?

13. how does your muse outwardly express their anger? 

14. what is the worst injury your muse has ever received? 

15. what might others consider your muse’s worst failing to be?

16. does your muse have a short fuse when it comes to temper?

17. who does your muse wish they had said goodbye to, but didn’t?

18. does your muse suffer from nightmares? how often? what about?

19. out of everything your muse has lost/given up, which hurt the most?

20. what is something your muse wants to tell others, but is too afraid to? 

21. how hard is it for your muse to open up to others? what holds them back?

22. looking back, what is one thing your muse wishes they had done differently? 

23. does your muse tend to be hard on themselves when they do something wrong?

24. does your muse lean more toward “forgive and forget” or “resent and remember?”

"It was a gift." The little Khajiit's fur was starting to lay flat the longer the conversation went on, and she edged out of hiding a little more. If this Argonian was really a Bad Person, then he would have tried to hurt her by now, right? She lowered the glowing wooden sword and the elven dagger clutched in her paws. "From a nice mage who used to visit a lot. She said it is called 'Nightlight', and would keep this one safe from monsters in the dark."

It usually worked, too, but the monsters down here hadn't even reacted to the light. Which was good, as it meant the sword hadn't immediately given her presence away, but also bad, as without the monster-repelling light, Nightlight was little more than a solid stick to whack things with.

The little Khajiit tapped her claws against Liz's armor, listening to the sound it made, and let her tail uncurl from around his waist to wave behind her in thought.

"That, and...as a Dragonborn...I wanted to see just how far my smithing prowess could grow, to become stronger without the need of purchasing gear all the time."

He slightly chuckles again, deciding to boast a slight bit.

"It was a gift." The little Khajiit's fur was starting to lay flat the longer the conversation went on, and she edged out of hiding a little more. If this Argonian was really a Bad Person, then he would have tried to hurt her by now, right? She lowered the glowing wooden sword and the elven dagger clutched in her paws. "From a nice mage who used to visit a lot. She said it is called 'Nightlight', and would keep this one safe from monsters in the dark."

It usually worked, too, but the monsters down here hadn't even reacted to the light. Which was good, as it meant the sword hadn't immediately given her presence away, but also bad, as without the monster-repelling light, Nightlight was little more than a solid stick to whack things with.

Even though her Mama thought she was too young to learn any more just yet.

He glances over at her a bit.

"...And maybe also consider investing in some armor...I might even be able to help with that last part, too! After all...you see the armor I am wearing? I made it myself..."

He slightly punches the chestplate a little, to show the sturdiness of it.

"It was a gift." The little Khajiit's fur was starting to lay flat the longer the conversation went on, and she edged out of hiding a little more. If this Argonian was really a Bad Person, then he would have tried to hurt her by now, right? She lowered the glowing wooden sword and the elven dagger clutched in her paws. "From a nice mage who used to visit a lot. She said it is called 'Nightlight', and would keep this one safe from monsters in the dark."

It usually worked, too, but the monsters down here hadn't even reacted to the light. Which was good, as it meant the sword hadn't immediately given her presence away, but also bad, as without the monster-repelling light, Nightlight was little more than a solid stick to whack things with.

Of course, her Papa only wished to keep his young daughter away from the rising chaos that was the dragons returning and nordic prophecy that was spreading across the province like wildfire these days, but Azihana had no way of knowing that.

He thinks a slight bit, moving forward while gently making sure she is held on tightly, while still being comfortable.

"A Dragonborn is, quite simply, a mortal with the immortal soul of a Dragon, gifted by Akatosh for one reason or another...it's why you may have found yourself being able to Shout so easily, while hearing that others have to spend many years in order to use even one Word."

The Argonian chuckles a bit...speaking up still, even though what he says next might be a bit confusing.

"But, because of the gift that you have been given...you are also entirely in control of your own fate, and as such can do anything you want when you are old enough to be out on your own...which isn't to say that you should do it as soon as possible..."

Liz looks back at her with a slight smile.

"It was a gift." The little Khajiit's fur was starting to lay flat the longer the conversation went on, and she edged out of hiding a little more. If this Argonian was really a Bad Person, then he would have tried to hurt her by now, right? She lowered the glowing wooden sword and the elven dagger clutched in her paws. "From a nice mage who used to visit a lot. She said it is called 'Nightlight', and would keep this one safe from monsters in the dark."

It usually worked, too, but the monsters down here hadn't even reacted to the light. Which was good, as it meant the sword hadn't immediately given her presence away, but also bad, as without the monster-repelling light, Nightlight was little more than a solid stick to whack things with.

"Well, it certainly did help you, in that way...just indirectly, with someone like me coming around."

He then looks around at the carnage he has caused...despite what the Falmer do, he has a bit of sympathy because of what they were.

"Unfortunately...light doesn't work all that well against the Falmer, the twisted elven creatures that dwell underground...they have been stricken blind from things that have happened in the past, so they rely on their other senses."

Liz then looks back over at the little Khajiit, with a smile.

"Yes, please." She said, putting on her best, most pitiful pleading look as she took Liz's hand with her now-free one. "This one has had enough adventure for now. She wants to go home."

"Come on...let's get you out of here, then...there could be more, anyways..."

He then goes and grabs his helmet and blades, putting it on and sheathing them, respectively, before heading off.

"It was a gift." The little Khajiit's fur was starting to lay flat the longer the conversation went on, and she edged out of hiding a little more. If this Argonian was really a Bad Person, then he would have tried to hurt her by now, right? She lowered the glowing wooden sword and the elven dagger clutched in her paws. "From a nice mage who used to visit a lot. She said it is called 'Nightlight', and would keep this one safe from monsters in the dark."

It usually worked, too, but the monsters down here hadn't even reacted to the light. Which was good, as it meant the sword hadn't immediately given her presence away, but also bad, as without the monster-repelling light, Nightlight was little more than a solid stick to whack things with.

"Well, it certainly did help you, in that way...just indirectly, with someone like me coming around."

He then looks around at the carnage he has caused...despite what the Falmer do, he has a bit of sympathy because of what they were.

"Unfortunately...light doesn't work all that well against the Falmer, the twisted elven creatures that dwell underground...they have been stricken blind from things that have happened in the past, so they rely on their other senses."

Liz then looks back over at the little Khajiit, with a smile.

Within the land of Skyrim, there were quite a few dungeons to explore, whether they be caves, Draugr Tombs, or even a Dwarven Ruin...for an average adventurer, this was nothing new, and for the Dragonborn of Daedric Prince blood (Not that he realizes that), it was just a way of life.

He was scouring through one of said Dwarven Ruins, studying the architecture and broken pieces of machinery within, whilst occasionally fighting off the stray Automaton...that is, until he hears a familiar sound of hisses and grunts...the Falmer, just great...the one known as Liz Dovah lets out a sigh, and begins to ready himself for combat against the blind snow elves, and their bugs.

But...would he find more than just them within the depths? Only fate shall tell...

"Azihana, so that's your name? I see...well...call me Liz, Liz Dovah...or, Ice Dragon, in the Dragon Tongue. A dragon in disguise...that...means a few things...either he was bad, had a Dragon Soul like I do, or...something else that would only be told at the Bard's College in Solitude."

He chuckles a slight bit, keeping his hand out for her to take if she ever feels comfortable enough.

"Regardless...it is nice to meet you, Azihana...you know, keeping a wooden sword with a light enchantment is pretty smart...gives you some means of defense and light, while not being as dangerous as a torch."

Within the land of Skyrim, there were quite a few dungeons to explore, whether they be caves, Draugr Tombs, or even a Dwarven Ruin...for an average adventurer, this was nothing new, and for the Dragonborn of Daedric Prince blood (Not that he realizes that), it was just a way of life.

He was scouring through one of said Dwarven Ruins, studying the architecture and broken pieces of machinery within, whilst occasionally fighting off the stray Automaton...that is, until he hears a familiar sound of hisses and grunts...the Falmer, just great...the one known as Liz Dovah lets out a sigh, and begins to ready himself for combat against the blind snow elves, and their bugs.

But...would he find more than just them within the depths? Only fate shall tell...

All Azihana could smell was blood and charred flesh.

She leaned out a little further as the stranger spoke, and Liz would be able to see the tip of a wooden sword, suffused with the pale blue glow usually reserved for a light spell, as well as one wide green eye and a large round ear, currently pinned back in fear. Azihana had heard the stories of the Greybeards and their Big Voices in their mountaintop monastery. She'd never seen them, and her Papa said there were big, scary trolls on the mountain, so it was too dangerous for her to climb, but she'd read what she could from the books in her uncle's family's library.

He sheepishly chuckles, leaning down a little to be more at her eye level, gently reaching out a hand to her, but pulling it back if she shows any negative reaction.

"What about you? Have you ever been told how you were able to Shout, despite being so young?"

Within the land of Skyrim, there were quite a few dungeons to explore, whether they be caves, Draugr Tombs, or even a Dwarven Ruin...for an average adventurer, this was nothing new, and for the Dragonborn of Daedric Prince blood (Not that he realizes that), it was just a way of life.

He was scouring through one of said Dwarven Ruins, studying the architecture and broken pieces of machinery within, whilst occasionally fighting off the stray Automaton...that is, until he hears a familiar sound of hisses and grunts...the Falmer, just great...the one known as Liz Dovah lets out a sigh, and begins to ready himself for combat against the blind snow elves, and their bugs.

But...would he find more than just them within the depths? Only fate shall tell...

Her Papa and uncle had collected many others, but she hadn't been allowed to read them yet.

He gets up from his kneeling posture, and looks around...gritting his teeth a little with there being no sign,as far as he can tell from the room...and his whispering shout from before wouldn't be much help with auras and their shapes being harder to tell apart from afar.

"...I promise you, I can lead you to him, if you trust me...if you can use Shouts, that means you know about the Greybeards up in High Hrothgar, right? ...If you let me help you...maybe I can tell you about them?"

Within the land of Skyrim, there were quite a few dungeons to explore, whether they be caves, Draugr Tombs, or even a Dwarven Ruin...for an average adventurer, this was nothing new, and for the Dragonborn of Daedric Prince blood (Not that he realizes that), it was just a way of life.

He was scouring through one of said Dwarven Ruins, studying the architecture and broken pieces of machinery within, whilst occasionally fighting off the stray Automaton...that is, until he hears a familiar sound of hisses and grunts...the Falmer, just great...the one known as Liz Dovah lets out a sigh, and begins to ready himself for combat against the blind snow elves, and their bugs.

But...would he find more than just them within the depths? Only fate shall tell...

"You stay away!" A little voice threatened. There was a flash of light against the mossy rock wall as Azihana brandished Nightlight in one hand and Spiderbite in the other, despite being too afraid to come out of hiding. Maybe, if she sounded fearsome enough, the Big Voiced stranger would think her too much trouble, and leave long enough for her to run all the way back to the crack in the floor she'd crawled through to end up here.

"Don't worry...I won't harm you, as I said...I only wish to help you, as this is a dangerous place for many."

He kneels down a little, letting out a soft sight.

"I understand if you don't trust me, it's hard to trust someone that just mopped the floor with creatures as dangerous as those..."

He then thinks a bit, pondering what she has said...before, trying to be a little personable, he speaks up again.

Within the land of Skyrim, there were quite a few dungeons to explore, whether they be caves, Draugr Tombs, or even a Dwarven Ruin...for an average adventurer, this was nothing new, and for the Dragonborn of Daedric Prince blood (Not that he realizes that), it was just a way of life.

He was scouring through one of said Dwarven Ruins, studying the architecture and broken pieces of machinery within, whilst occasionally fighting off the stray Automaton...that is, until he hears a familiar sound of hisses and grunts...the Falmer, just great...the one known as Liz Dovah lets out a sigh, and begins to ready himself for combat against the blind snow elves, and their bugs.

But...would he find more than just them within the depths? Only fate shall tell...

Under any other circumstances, she would be ecstatic to meet another person with a Big Voice. The only other ones she knew of were the Greybeards from her books and that guy in Windhelm that her Papa avoided like the plague. But she didn't know the Words this one had used, and she didn't know if they were friendly, either...what if they were mean, like the guy in Windhelm??

"Laas..." With that, he opens his eyes and looks around, before soon spotting the aura of Azihana behind the tent, which is...decidely not in the shape of a prowling Falmer, as he suspected...as a matter of fact, this surprises him a bit, making him pause...before slowly taking off his helmet, and putting it down to the side, and also unsheathing his Daedric blades and setting them next to the helmet, his attempt at trying to lose his threatening presence. "Hello? I can see you...don't worry, I mean you no harm...may I please come over, and see if you are okay?"

1. who does your muse hate?

2. how does your muse handle grief?

3. what is your muse’s biggest regret? 

4. how many scars does your muse have?

5. how long can your muse hold a grudge?

6. how does your muse handle loneliness? 

7. what is one of your muse’s greatest fears?

8. what does your muse fear losing the most?

9. does your muse think violence is ever warranted?

10. what is the worst illness your muse has ever had?

11. what would your muse consider their worst failing?

12. does your muse tend to push themselves too hard?

13. how does your muse outwardly express their anger? 

14. what is the worst injury your muse has ever received? 

15. what might others consider your muse’s worst failing to be?

16. does your muse have a short fuse when it comes to temper?

17. who does your muse wish they had said goodbye to, but didn’t?

18. does your muse suffer from nightmares? how often? what about?

19. out of everything your muse has lost/given up, which hurt the most?

20. what is something your muse wants to tell others, but is too afraid to? 

21. how hard is it for your muse to open up to others? what holds them back?

22. looking back, what is one thing your muse wishes they had done differently? 

23. does your muse tend to be hard on themselves when they do something wrong?

24. does your muse lean more toward “forgive and forget” or “resent and remember?”

Within the land of Skyrim, there were quite a few dungeons to explore, whether they be caves, Draugr Tombs, or even a Dwarven Ruin...for an average adventurer, this was nothing new, and for the Dragonborn of Daedric Prince blood (Not that he realizes that), it was just a way of life.

He was scouring through one of said Dwarven Ruins, studying the architecture and broken pieces of machinery within, whilst occasionally fighting off the stray Automaton...that is, until he hears a familiar sound of hisses and grunts...the Falmer, just great...the one known as Liz Dovah lets out a sigh, and begins to ready himself for combat against the blind snow elves, and their bugs.

But...would he find more than just them within the depths? Only fate shall tell...

But now that she was here, Gods know how far underground, surrounded by bugs and creepy creatures with only her dagger, her Voice, and her natural Khajiiti stealth to protect her...

She was...starting to doubt herself.

When she had wandered off from her father's side, deeper into the ruin he'd been paid to clear of bandits, and squeezed through a crack in the floor to prove herself, she hadn't imagined the caves to be quite so big, or deep - so much so that the gentle glow of Nightlight couldn't even reach the ceiling, merely the tips of the stalactites high above. She hadn't imagined the metal skin of the Dwemer creatures to be so hard to pierce with Spiderbite - her father's blade and her uncle's arrows made them look so fragile.

She certainly hadn't imagined all the giant bugs almost as large as Woof and the pale, blind elves whose twisted faces made her fur stand on end.

Azihana crouched low behind one of the strange tents made of bug shells and ratty cloth, and pressed Nightlight against her body. The elves didn't seem to react to its light, but the bugs did, and she did not want them to notice her any more than she wanted to be alone in the dark without her gifted weapon's reassuring glow.