aurielswaywardson:
âIt blends together after a few centuries, give it time.â The High Elf replied, rolling his shoulders lazily, as if this matter was of no great consequence to him. And truly it was not. He had seen many summers and many winters and that experience made him jaded and cynical to the pains and sorrows of others at times.
âI am not from Altmeri high society.â Manarion replied bluntly, giving a slight shake of his head, giving a soft snort at the Tsaesciâs words, his bearded chin brushing against the front of his gilded black and gold breastplate. âBy all means.â He said, waving a hand, before holding his hands behind his back neatly. âI can wait.â
The only response to Manarionâs first statement was a noncommittal hum from Seshianu, as he stared into the eyes of the Nord. For a moment, only the sound of crickets filled the air, as the near-shaking Nord remained dead still.
âQuickly,â the Tsaesci whispered, giving a small nod.
The eyes of the Nord flared with a renewed anger and pride, and his posture straightened. âI donât need help from a m--â he cut off into a gargled cry as blood splashed across the ground. A quick flick of the wrist shook most of the blood from Seshianuâs sword, and as quickly as it had been drawn to strike, the blade was sheathed as the Nord crumpled, dead before he could grasp his cloven throat. The snake leaned down, picking up the amulet that had fallen from the manâs hand.
A low, disappointed sigh escaped Seshianu as he rose back to the generalâs height, looking down at the body. âA poor choice.â Looking now at the amulet, he held it up against the light of the moon, dangled from his fingers. âWho you are loyal to, I have no need to guess,â he spoke up, âbut to wear such ornate armor... who do I have the pleasure of meeting, this cold night?â
















