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@bevrorenbosmer
this is the final blog of tamara’s
once again another skyrim blog that you all should follow because skyrim is a huge thing that i’m still trying to understand and play through but i’m not a fantasy person so i have to force myself to play it.
anyway follow her skyrim blog.
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what’s this? it’s another blog from my bff tamara.
all i gotta say about this is skyrim and ulfric stormcloak. you all can go on from there.
FUCKING FOLLOW.
oh shit my bff tamara.
she has about three skyrim blogs and this is one of them. basically this is her badass elf oc who is perfection and gets into fights with cleopatra and tries to tell her it’s not going to be ok and she’s an idiot.
follow her.
[ sitting here trying to create open starters for any of my 3 accounts and they all come out awkward or dumb whoops ]
[ Liv I am so sorry but I keep thinking Cleo either has really big hair or curtain cords on her head omg. ]
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flash giveaway graphic { bevrorenbosmer }
vivicahalfelven
Clicks of hoof on stone rhythmically filled the surrounding area, only interrupted by an occasional yawn that took over the Bosmer. Slumped into her steed's mane, the clicks only seemed to lull her into a trance, engulfed in the sounds that mended themselves into the wilderness.
It took quite some time for her mind to comprehend her immediate surroundings, focusing in on a wagon not far up the road. Though she wished to give into her developed exhaustion and simply pass by, the slightest of troubles drew her in, giving Ratnik a light pat to urge him into a trot.
"Pardon--" As she approached the owner's side, she slowed to match speed. "--but it seems as if you've something caught in your wheel."
liv's { flash } giveaway
ok, some small rules before the prizes.
there will be { nine winners } for this.
you { do not } have to be following me.
{ reblogs } and { likes } count
i will use a { random generator } for this.
the prizes for this giveaway will be graphics tailored to the character you play. i will send you them via submit, and if i cannot, they will be posted and you shall be tagged.
this giveaway will end midnight tonight.
To say that his people, the Mohawk, were purely brutish people would be a wild misconception. Despite their sizes, they moved like specters. Brandished in the blood of their enemy and the hunt, the sped through their familiar surroundings with speed that took their opponent by surprise. And as such, used this to their advantage, even when hunting.
No fauna would live if marked by their minds.
Every step he took onto the snow capped branch, it shook and gently did the small ivory flakes feather to the ground. Sounds reverberated from the flora that any brisk winter winds could make. A good disguise.
He spotted it. A prime example of deer. It’s brown fur and great antlers. The Assassin had felt it’s charge before. Not an animal to be taken lightly. A mistake many new hunters make before Connor sees their blood stain the pure white grounds.
Breath drew in sharply. Gloved digits clung to the strong of the bow, pulled back. He was death. Silence before the whip of the strong drawing back sharply and a cry from the animal.
As he descended from his perched nest, he stopped at the carcass before looking back up. There was a second presence. Animal? Maybe. Human? Possibly. Not startled movements. Neither from the Native American or the figure before him. Beneath the darkness of his hood, his eyes were not seen.
He stood, slowly making his way towards the Bosmer. No words spoken but his slow steps towards her. However his head was inverted in such a way that it wasn’t her that he was focused on.
There was something behind her.
A soft cloud was drawn from her mouth, dissolving into the frigid air as she exhaled in a disappointed sigh. Disappointment both in the loss of such fine game, and in her own self for inadequate use of her time. Such things were easily put to blame of the bitter landscape, the winds that gave her cheeks a radiantly red glow, as if she were kissed by winter incarnated, but pride be damned it was her own doing.
While her mind took her into motion, retracing a broken path to her awaiting mount, her legs had locked themselves into a state of paralysis. Fear--? No, but curiosity. Curiosity raked into her mind with the presence of another. A hunter, such as herself, no doubt the rewarded.
All senses were keen to him, and the very crunch of the land under his boots. It was not until the twitch of her pointed ears pulled her senses to all, a crunch much too loud for the grace the man carried, that the stillness marked by intrigue faded.
Not the time to raise her hand and will the unwieldy beast to her ways -- but only in those seconds was she able to move out of the reach of its claws, reactively setting the distance, only to close it again. Bow discarded, axe in hand, her body moved with the wild. This one was her own. It was if Hircine had sent the bear himself, wrapped tightly with a bow. Failure would not be an option.
The naturality of a Bosmer, the cry of the Nord, seconds flashed with blood not of her own. Like paint, red decorated her in its glory. It was if all previous had disappeared; no man, no deer. Just herself, and the bear that bled at her hand, life torn from its very being.
She was a woman of power, one who would never fall to such means of living like the rest. As a queen, she was to be highly respected and treated to a certain degree. Even this woman must have known such was to be wanted of her.
"I don’t need to be warned." Her men knew the perils of travel, they were well prepared, as always. This land was no different than the rest save for the fact that they knew nothing of it. The people were the same, the area navigable for the majority of the trip. It was all just the same, nothing out of the ordinary. The creatures who roamed were alike to those she saw, the people just as horrid.
Skyrim was no different.
"Once again, nothing but worthless words from your mouth." Oh, wouldn’t this woman just leave her instead of questioning everything about what Cleopatra ordered her men to do?
A nuisance is what she was and what she would stay.
Not a peep from the Bosmer, as she felt satisfied with a simple grin and a waving flick of her hand -- a dismissal of sorts. She knew better than to instigate conflict with those who believed themselves above all, yet her proud soul would not let up and allow this woman to walk in the unknown with her head so high. After all, she did not bow to those she did not respect, especially those who still relied on power where it was worthless.
A few yards out, and she was sure of her lost line of sight. Quick, skillful movements sent her up the next tree, not a single twig allowed to snap in the process. With caution on both distance and noise, Casmora moved from branch to branch, tree to tree, settling herself near yet far from the strange woman. If there were trouble, she would hear it from here.
People died out here all the time, especially alone. One less lost soul in these lands would be a blessing in a truly bloody era. Until the guards returned or danger arose, she would lurk, if not just to keep an eye on such a suspicious woman.
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"I belong wherever I please, woman." There was that bitterness in her tone, how she felt like she was being talked down to, and by whom, some fair maiden who roamed the woods. As if this woman had a right to tell the queen what was expected of her and where she belonged. This place would become her land as well, she would conquer and she had other territories and provinces.
All of this land, whatever it was called, it would be hers.
Everything always ended up belonging to Cleopatra. It was the queen’s order and it was always followed through.
"I will not have you speak of me and my men like that for when I return to my country, you shall be called as enemies. You will be dead for the words leaving that wretched mouth of yours."
"I’ve traversed far and wide, I think I know what I’m up against."
The desert was challenging, not as challenging as the woods, but still, she knew she would prevail. Cleopatra always lived to see another day, for the gods wouldn’t have it any other way. To see her alive was to give thanks.
She would not follow, that would be weak of her.
Act strong, look strong, stay strong.
Such an overwhelming sense of confidence this woman held, up beyond insufferable levels. No Nord, not even Ulfric Stormcloak, took their pride to these levels, and they characterized the word.
The elven huntress couldn't help but feel the rise of both her laugh and her temper. Torn between a boisterous laugh at the childish behavior and a threat to match the one received, well -- there was a thin line keeping her from both. Of course, she would not have her temper bested by own who acted in such a way.
"I merely sought to warn you." Bandits were the least of this woman's worries. "Perhaps you should question the reliability of your guard for leaving you unattended instead of focusing on my demise."
Her boots crushed the dirt below as she weaved through the vegetation, careful not to destroy it. "Suit yourself. My offer stands." She would not go far if she were not followed. With all good conscience, even the most insufferable of souls did not deserve to perish this way.
No rush as it were, she had yet to profit from her hunt.
warriormohawk
Exposed flesh on her limbs only sought to remind her that she was hardly the cold-dweller she believed she was. Bits of frost nipped at her elven skin, from the tips of her ears to those of her fingers, through all that hadn't been covered in thick fur.
Snow obscured her vision as the delicate flakes fell, landing gracefully on her features. Her prey -- her game -- had dipped into a valley beyond the peak on this hill, and her movements slowed. Whether entirely skill or rigid limbs was questionable, but for a later time.
Bow drawn, ready, icy fingers suddenly ceased in their shakes. As the landscape below appeared before her, a hitch was caught in her throat. Specks of crimson littered the once pure snow; a heap of fur and antler among them.
Another had taken her hunt.
They had not left, and this woman, she mocked the queen. "They have not left." It’s all she could say, for they would be back in due time, when a path could be found and safety could be reached.
This place, it bothered her, and the thoughts of bandits could have made her shake in her boots, if she eve knew was such were. Her men, bandits would be no problem. She only carried the best with her, and only the best survived, even in foreign lands. This land, it was no different, just the people, and that’s how it would stay. "Bandits shall be no problem for them, trust."
Oh, a slap would be needed for this woman. She spoke ill of her men, spoke ill of herself. "They shall be back, my word upon that." How she was doubted, how it bothered her. To be put down, to be unrecognized and talked down to, it was a sickening sight. "My men know their place, know their duty. So they travel, but it’s only travel and they shall be back within due time."
Left on her own, a thought never passing her mind.
"I am, so gracious of you to notice." And only the highest of nobility.
"Then you belong not here, so far from the roads." Head held high, she carried herself with pride and confidence as she allowed the space between them to deplete. The Bosmer may not have been born into such esteemed positions, but she knew quite well when she held an advantage. Of course, raised by the honorable, she knew better than to flaunt and bask in superiority. Instead, she would treat this unfortunate woman as an equal -- for that is all they were in these times.
When they stood mere feet apart, Casmora ceased her advancing steps, opting to look the woman over countless times for any sign of, well, anything. To say she didn't belong here was an understatement.
"Your ignorance and that of your men's is... unfortunate."
"These lands are not for the unprepared." Her legs spun, reversing her direction in one short movement before she continued her way in the direction of which she had came. "If you are confident in their return to your obviously new position, then by all means, stay put. Apologies for your bother."
Halting, she looked over her shoulder. "But should you require guidance to the main roads, you are free to follow. I must return soon anyway. Sun sets, and I would not recommend someone like you loitering much longer."
Oh how Cleopatra despised these simple people and how they lived upon the land. That was no way to live, for it caused great death, a quick one. Unhealthy, and how did one socialize out here? Oh, it was just horrifying to her, and the fact one of these people, the simple minded fools, was speaking to her, and with such distaste in her voice, it bothered her to the point of snapping.
She wished to strike this woman, give a firm hit across her face but she refrained for this woman knew hew place now.
Her eyes just gazed down upon this woman and what she spoke of, everything quite unfamiliar, terms she cared nothing for. "We travel through, my men are seeking a more adequate route."
That’s all she would say, nothing more. This land, it was almost story like? Skyrim, a place she’d never heard of.
"All have left you to your own in unfamiliar territory?" A crinkle in her petite nose, and a breathy sigh slipped through her lips. "I hope, for their own sake, they did not reach the caves south of here. Bandits litter that area."
Casmora felt a soft breeze pass through the trees, carrying the scents of the forest. Only they two stood there, a moment of silence lingering until the call of the birds once more flooded their ears. Her senses were keen to theses lands, as such every minor detail stuck out to her, keeping her alert. She gently tucked her hair back behind an elven ear, keeping it away from the sides of her face so that she may experience it to the full.
"They are not close. How can you be so certain that they will find you, should survive at all? Not exactly prime decision making. 'less they intend to leave you to your own." A huff of a laugh.
She may not have been a master strategist, but it was only common sense as far as she was concerned.
"You. You are nobility of some kind?"
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She couldn’t even travel without being questioned and her guards, they had left her while trying to find a way out of this damned forest. Honestly, she was disgusted with the world around her, how dirty it was. Even the sands of the desert did not prove to be such a disgust.
What else could she do?
She sat alone, not even an advisor with her, or even a man to call a <sub
A feminine voice called, out, causing Cleopatra to look about her surroundings, the nasty surroundings. "I am not, and I wish for you to speak with a little more respect."
A tight hint of a smile tugged at the corner of her lips. "Forgive me." With graceful, swift movements, the Bosmer swung her way down the tree, careful to not let a single branch snap under her weight. As she neared the last few feet, she simply dropped to the forest floor with a light thud, knees bent to ease her landing.
"I only wish to understand why any woman in her right state of mind would be so ill-prepared. Not even a Nord would walk the wilds without a fur."
"--and without steel, or do you fancy the use of spells?" With light, unhesitating feet, she approached, only using caution for the woman's comfort. "I take it you have never heard of Skyrim's lands, that, or you are foolish enough to brush such warnings away."
A tilt of her head, blonde hair falling at the angle.
an--aspsbite
Sensitive ears, trained for the hunt. As soon as they had picked up on the slightest crumble of a leaf, the very earth being crushed under the weight of another, Casmora had been upright, bow drawn to its full. Not what she had hoped for, a womanly figure emerging into her sight.
"..."
It would be custom to reel back and continue her wait in the branches, but her interests were far too keen on the figure, seemingly so out of place. Lowering her bow and dusting off the thick fur that lay draped around her shoulders, she eased her tension.
"Are you lost? Or has your mind gone with the wind?"
