following all the gemstone birds

A Song Without the Voice (296 words):

The world beyond the cottage sat suspended in that strange hour before dawn fully claimed the sky. Darkness had faded, soft enough now that the shapes of the village stood clear beneath the early morning haze. Thin mist curled low along the ground near the riverbanks, drifting lazily between fences and cottages while the mountains beyond remained only dark silhouettes against the paling horizon. The air smelled of wet pine. Talisse drew the quilt tighter around herself automatically. The yard lay quiet around her. Near the steps, a shaggy dog lifted its head at the sound of the door opening, ears twitching lazily. It regarded her for a moment with sleepy disinterest, then huffed quietly and settled back down against the side of the house, apparently deciding she posed no threat worth barking at. The chickens remained tucked inside their little coop, feathers puffed, not yet awake enough to start their endless fussing. But the cow standing within the nearby fenced pen was already awake, large and placid beneath the pale dawn light. Its breath steamed softly in the air as it shifted its weight and regarded her with slow, sleepy eyes. Talisse approached the fence almost instinctively. She leaned against the wooden gate and reached through the rails, letting her fingers brush slowly along the cow’s neck. The animal huffed quietly and leaned into the touch with surprising gentleness. For a little while, she simply stood there. The village felt almost eerie at this hour. No hammering from the mill yet. No voices. No chopping wood or barking dogs or children running through the muddy roads. Only the distant rush of the river breaking the silence, steady and endless beneath the soft whisper of wind moving through the trees. After Helgen, it almost felt unnatural.

Rogue Waves (263 words):

He withdrew the small box from his robes, and the polished surface caught faint light between them, the lacquer gleaming briefly against the muted gold of his robes. Recognition crossed her face. “This is yours,” Ondolemar said, forcing the words out before his pride could interfere again. “I should not have taken it.” He extended the box toward her. For a moment Talisse simply stared at him. The expression on her face would have been easier to tolerate if she had looked angry again. Anger he understood, distrust he expected… But this was something closer to complete inability to process what she was hearing. Slowly, suspiciously, her eyes moved from the box to him and back again. “…You’re joking.” “I assure you,” Ondolemar replied dryly, “this experience has been profoundly humorless for me as well.” That finally seemed to break her paralysis and she stepped forward abruptly and snatched the box from his hand with enough force to make the hinges creak together. She turned it over once in her grip, checking it with quick, practiced scrutiny before opening one of the countless hidden pockets stitched into her armor. Ondolemar watched with faint disbelief as the box disappeared seamlessly into the leather layers like it had never existed at all. “Wonderful, now I have it back,” she muttered, already stepping sideways past him toward the stairs. A smile touched her mouth then—small, warm, almost pleasant at first glance. It never reached her eyes. Those remained fixed on him, flat with cold irritation beneath the shadow of her hood. “You can fuck off, now.”

Tagged by @umbracirrus @cresu @anilliscarts @hircines-hunter @heavy-metal-dick

The rock wall cut into her flesh as she leaned against it. Her heart pounded in her ears. Her breath was caught in her throat. The smell of metallic blood clung to her. Engulfed her. She swallowed and it's all she tasted. Sweat and blood mixed as it dribbled down her face. It stung when she opened her eyes. She squeezed her eyes shut. After a few blinks, she wiped her face and took a deep breath.

Sifkni turned her attention toward the wound on her shoulder. A war axe sliced through her armor and tunic. Blood trickled from the gash. It slowed as her body closed the wound.

Another deep breath. The adrenaline rush slowed. Pain seared through her entire body. She cursed. Blood covered her face from a deep laceration in her scalp. She closed one eye and fumbled with her knapsack. Both hands shook violently as she rummaged through it. She closed her other eye and took a deep breath, trying to calm her nerves.

Pain seared through her side when she looked through her bag. Another curse stuttered from her lips. She felt the sticky blood pool at her side, drenching her tunic and armor. The ground below her was soaked with her blood.

Crunch.

Dry grass crunched under someone's boot. Sifkni stilled, including her breath, when footsteps approached her hiding spot. Whoever it was made no attempt to keep quiet.

She gritted her teeth through the pain as she reached for the hunting knife in her boot. Sifkni noticed the gaping wound in her thigh. Another curse. She grabbed the handle and readied the blade for an attack. Her vision darkened and blurred. She fought against her body until a familiar scent brushed passed her.

Juniper.

Farkas…?

Her grip on the dagger loosened and the blade fell into the dirt beside her. She collapsed to the ground with a soft thud. She groaned, still trying to fight back her body's response to the blood loss.

Warmth engulfed her. The heavy smell of juniper mixed with her own blood. Hints of petrichor. Her consciousness wavered in and out. Sometimes a soft prayer floated by in her mind. Or a curse.

Lavender. Chamomile. Iron. Stagnation. Soft whispers. Low prayers. Movement.

Jorrvaskr. Wolf. Juniper. Warmth.