The King is Dead, Long Live the King

She turned her head to the side as her eyes narrowed a bit. She didn’t know what he was getting at but let it slide. “Sorry to disappoint you. In time, this ‘dirty’ crumbling hole will look not so like a Nordic Ruin.” There was some lessons she learned when she became a lich. Showing feelings were…difficult at best.

“Life is full of disappointments. And so is death.” The other lich countered and an arid dry tone, giving her a level, albeit rather tame glower, compared to his normal ones. “I see not why you insist on frittering about these hovels of primitive heaps of stone.” Labryrinthian, while impressive in its own right, was still a man-made construct, and paled in comparison to anything the Altmer and their ancestors had built. Like a bunch of drunk imgas had taken to architecture for five minutes before losing focus. “Make me, dear.” It was rather childish, he supposed, but he did quite enjoy pressing and pushing at her. 

“Oh that’s interesting”, she agreed with fierce nodding, even though she had absolutely no intention to ever get so close to the things. She accepted the tea and without thinking much, she wiggled her feet out of her boots and lifted her legs crossed under her on the chair. Well, so he was in fact an alchemist, now that was concerning. But he did seem like a harmless old mer. Well, she also seemed like a harmless young girl… But she did love hot sweet beverages. It was a shame that the old breadcrumb seemed to be a man of simple lifestyle.

Fathers. Bah. Who needed them. 

“Well that certainly explains everything.”

Her victory did not last as his last comment made her roll her eyes. Saddly, the direction she needed to go was in the direction he was going. This was quite unpleasant. “They are.” If only he knew. “That was what I have read anyway. I had only a handful of encounters and only heard one talk once.” Dragons only spoke to those they found worthly. The only form of communication they will have with the unworthy is shounting in the tounge of the dragons. Powerful form of arcane power. The power of the voice. She has it, but it has been a long, long time since she used the thu'um.

She crossed her arms. “No, in truth, I have been expecting your arrive for some time.” She shifted her weight to the other side as she looked over the King of Worms. He had seen better days, the years haven’t been kind.

“I would applaud, but you know, I do not want to.” He said with a smirk. It was difficult to tell, but perhaps he was making an attempt to tease her. He quirked a brow at her open studying of his face, tilting his head slightly to watch her in return. “I must admit that it is growing on me.” The Altmer replied, looking up and around them at the dusty walls and ancient decor. “For a dirty, crumbling hovel of a nordic ruin.” 

The reconstruction of what is known now as Labyrinthian begun sometime ago. The ruin was a maze upon itself. Perfect for the vision of her… temple. Very little dared come near the ruins. Isolated and remote. Her practices should go unnoticed for a very long time. If a foolish would be hero dared to inter, they will not last long. No one will come between her and her vision. Not the Aaedra and certainly not the Daedra.

He stopped at a respectable distance to his newest protege and fellow Lich, taking a moment or two to study what she was doing and behaving. There was no reason to mistake their similarities for trust; such a thing would be incredibly foolish. “My apologies, my dear.” He murmured softly, although he was not, not truly, but civility owed. “I hope I am not intruding?” None of this would have been possible without him, and the question itself was just a mere pleasantry. 

“We can always negotiate”, she replied with the sweetest smile, and when he let her in, she trotted thankfully in. She had had some luck before in these rooms, with some particularly wealthy merchants in need of low profile having rented them, but this one seemed to be just some old grandpa in her eyes. She gave a quick glance at the room to see if there were any expensive-looking items laying around to tell of the mer’s wealth level.

“Of course.” The old mer rasped, stepping aside before limping over to the hearth to take a kettle of tea off from where it hung above the merrily crackling flames. The room was warm, but not overly so, as the fire was small, and did little to chase away the cold. However, the aged Altmer wrapped in his black robes and shroud did not seem to mind it. “Freezing their rotors tends to work. Until the steam melts it.” He said, pouring the tea before handing her a cup. His pale, spindly hands were almost ice cold. “No. I am not. I am an alchemist and enchanter.” 

Athel followed the wave of his staff with her eyes. “Ah, poop. I missed it again - I thought for sure I had the right direction this time.”

“Didn’t want to spoil your fun.” Lilyum said as she crossed her arms. “Though is seems your out of shape old man.” She was the one to talk. She wasn’t exactly in shape either. She didn’t like the names he called her. Little Lily and Dove was something she never wanted to be called by him again. those days were long gone.

Lilyum watched has Mannimarco summoned a powerful blot of lightning down upon the beast. He was still able to call upon powerful magic though it probably took a toll on his body, not magicka. She moved back, not wanting to get hit as she watched the elder beast fell to the ground. This dragon was not truly dead for it’s soul was not consumed and she would not do it.