#adusa-daro

Due to a lack of blood/active blood flow, people lose their color (go "pale") after becoming a vampire. This doesn't effect melanin, obviously, so it tends to be more obvious in folks with paler skin. When they're hungry/haven't fed in a awhile, the effect is more pronounced, and after they've eaten it is less so.

^ The same applies to furred Khajiit, it's just not as noticeable because it is covered by their fur. The change can be seen on their noses, ears, paw pads, and around the eyes though. The fur color and pattern doesn't change, but may dull in color a bit and thins around the extremities. Argonian's scales also get duller.

Their hair also gets duller and a little darker. This one can be non-diegetic though because I mostly just did it because I thought it would look better aesthetically.

They all have red eyes, although their original eye color can peak through if they are well fed. They also develop a tapetum lucidum that makes their eyes reflective to light in the dark (like a cat or dog).

They get darkness and redness around the eyes and extremities. Their veins also look more pronounced in theses areas as well, and are more extreme depending on how hungry they are. Older and more experienced vampires eventually learn how to eliminate these visual traits through magic or managing their hunger better.

Vampires can get close to their original appearance by being full and well fed, but certain traits (mostly the paleness and red eyes) are basically permanent. Older and more experienced vampires usually eventually become masters in illusion magic to maintain their non-vampiric appearance in public.

This was not something you could handle on your own; in this current state Fennorian's strength would rival Lyris' when she was simply swinging a hatchet. But you also know he'll come down from the bloodlust and regain his senses sooner or later. As frightening as it is to watch (your stomach churns again as another geyser of liquid life gushes onto the ground), you are aware the best thing to do is to leave as quickly and quietly as possible and get help. Gwendis or Adusa-daro would be able to work with him. His sisters are more likely to have better luck.

The Eight, however, decide to show you they have a twisted sense of humor: as you take a few steps backward, something- you aren't sure what - crunches under your boot. Loudly. It echoes off of the silent Dwarven halls. As if on cue, Fennorian's head whips up and he locks eyes with you.

Run.

You were already somewhat posed to make a break for it if needed, so you are able to give yourself a little bit of a head start. Retracing your steps back down the corridor is more difficult than you thought it would be, seeing as all the walls look the same when you're running for your life. You think you can make out Fennorian's footsteps behind you, but you don't have it in you to turn around and find out.

Of course, in your flight mode, you momentarily forget this is a Dwarven ruin. In your previous explorations, you and your teammates frequently have to kick clutter out of the walkways; Dwemer gears, struts from the autamatons, golden screws, all manner of shiny things that are much more sturdy than you give credit for. And one of those aforementioned gears was missed on your initial trek down, and it finds its way under your boot. You slip with a cry and land on your hands and knees, before your hands give out on the slippery, oil-caked spot in the dirt and you go down prone.

You more feel it before you actually see it; you turn your head to the side to get your face out of the dirt, blinking a few times to regain focus, when the ground next to your head shakes like thunder. A clawed hand, painted in blood and inky-black vampiric viscera, slams inches from your wide-eyed face. As if by instinct, you freeze. But only for a single heartbeat, before you swing your arm up and around to block your assailant. A different clawed hand blocks you, latching on, and the momentum rotating your body jolts to a halt.

Only for your and Fennorian's eyes to lock once again.

And your stomach drops into Oblivion.

It's a completely different sickening feeling, seeing him up close; Fennorian is absolutely not himself. You can actually see his deep, heaving breaths in the chilly underground air, little white mists that almost blend in with his pale complexion. The dead sorcerer's dark blood a stark contrast as it drips down his chin, the tiniest of flecks landing on your face as he breathes. His pupils are little more than tiny black pinpricks, ruby irises glowing even without the lights. Viciously pointed fangs seem... bigger, than the last time you saw them. Longer, and more sharp. Deadly. A tiny droplet of fluid drips from one.

He growls at you. Actually growls. Deep in his throat from his chest. You've never heard him growl before, at least not at you. Noises of irritation that resemble one, sure, especially with his research. But never, ever at you. And it scares you.

"Fennorian!" You cry out, hoping that any of the Eight are listening and he hears you. "Fenn! It- It's me! Your friend! It's me!"

His grip on your hand tightens and he snarls. A very similar snarl to the ones you've heard Bloodfiends make. You cry out again as his claws start to dig into your skin and you thrash against him, pushing against his shoulder with your free hand. You grit your teeth as you try to ignore the stinging sensations in your arm his claws are making, and what you think might possibly be a fresh cut from his nails.

"Blood..." he rasps, barely audible. "Blood... I- Need-"

A split second decision of desperation on your part; you shove upward against him, right against his shoulder and collarbone. Exactly as you hope it would, Fennorian is too stunned to react properly and he lets go of you and your arm as he's lurched back. With the newfound space between your bodies, you swing your leg inward, curling it against yourself, and plant it square in the middle of his chest, pushing with all the strength you can muster. Fenn is launched back a good few feet from the force of the kick, and he lands flat on his back. Judging from the loud thud you hear, if he had any air in his lungs, it would definitely have been knocked clean out of him.

You waste no time: as soon as he's off of you, you whip around onto your knees and push into an instant sprint. Adrenaline courses through your veins and your lungs burn from the Dwarven machine fumes. But you have to get help.

You don't know how far you run, or for how long, but you recognize this corridor. The entrance isn't too far away. Unfortunately, you forgot about the uneven stone floor, and for the second time this excursion, you trip. But this time you aren't able to react quickly enough to stop yourself, and your head collides with the cold ground.

The stone pattern is blurry. Your vision is blurry. Your head is spinning, and you can smell iron from within your sinuses. What looks like a fuzzy red blob seems to materialize underneath you. Before you can react, you hear a poof of air behind you and what feels like a knee is suddenly forced into your back, pinning you in place and eliciting an unceremonius yelp from your throat.

Fennorian's growling above you again, but this time you also hear his hoarse, rasping voice directly in your ear;

"Blood- Need- Blood-"

You don't move. You don't breathe. You can hardly focus with the throbbing pain in the middle of your forehead, slowly fanning out. Your eyes unconsciously squeeze shut, preparing for the worst. His hot breath settles into the hairs on the back of your neck, and you swear you feel the ghost of a scratch from one of his fangs on one of your vertebrae.

A familiar Bosmer's voice suddenly tears through the tension-filled air, "GET AWAY FROM HER!"

Both you and Fenn look up at the same time to see Gwendis making a beeline for you two. She drops to a slide, skidding down the path, gravel spraying as Fennorian quickly stands up and steps to the side as if challenging her. His slightly hunched posture proves your suspicions. Gwendis deftly maneauvers herself between you and her brother, crouched on a knee and dagger in hand.

Before you can ask what's going on, or before Fennorian can make good of his wordless taunts, you hear a high-pitched shriek of a yowl, exactly like the battle cries of the Senche-panthers in Grahtwood and Reaper's March. Adusa-daro is there sooner than you can blink and she full-body tackles her brother down the sloping path, arms around his ribs and using her momentum to her advantage. As they tumble down the slope, you can make out what sounds eerily similar to two jackals getting into a territory dispute.

You feel a cold hand under your chin and Gwendis is looking down at you, her eyes wide with worry. "Are you alright, friend?"

Tears sting the corners of your eyes as you realize you're safe; help came before you had to ask. Help was probably on the way to begin with. While Gwendis helps you into a sitting position, wrapping her arms tight around you, you break into choked, relieved sobs.

~*~

"Take a deep breath, therrrrre you go," Gwendis says as she carefully places another makeshift ice compress to your forehead- frozen snowberries in a washrag. At least it smells good, you think to yourself, lying on your bed in Castle Ravenwatch.

You hardly react, it barely hurts anymore. The healing potion did wonders for your head when you drank it last night, but your nose still hurts like Oblivion. It was definitely a little broken. The tiniest hint of a bruise under your left eye would be a rude reminder of your clumsy footing.

"What happened out there? You were gone for almost two days with no warning, and Fennorian was gone even longer," Gwendis asks, equal parts concerned and curious. You could tell she had more that she wanted to ask, but she was restraining for the time being.

You nod as you take your time moving to a sitting position. "Fennorian said he was going to try to find some samples from the Gray Host, I... I think something about their blood being different? He wanted to get blood samples, I think..." Forming thoughts is still a little painful right now.

The Bosmer vampire raises an eyebrow at you. "If that was the case, why didn't he ask you to go with him? Or one of us? Why did he go alone?"

You shrug indifferently. "I wish I knew. He didn't say. When he didn't come back after those five days, I just knew something was wrong. I had to... well."

Gwendis shakes her head. "You should have asked us then."

You don't dignify that with a response, for that would show she was right. And you didn't want to admit that at this moment. "From what I gathered, it looked like they found him first, and either they broke his emergency flask, or he dropped it. I found it in one of the hallways," you nod at your bag. "I picked it up in case... in case..."

Gwen shakes her head again, more slowly this time. You don't have to ask. It wouldn't have done any good.

"Is... he okay?" You inquire without looking up. "I know that was bad for him. Especially after the last time he went into a ruin like that."

"Last I checked, he's alive. Or, as much as he can be ," Gwendis answers.

You both chuckle at her statement, the tension gently breaking between you two.

"He is awake and definitely feeling better," she explains. "Adusa was able to get enough blood in his system that he could be reasoned with. Then Kallin offered himself up as soon as it was safe. Fennorian is... lucky, he still has his wits about him."

You nod as you take in this new information.

Gwendis interupts your thoughts, "However, I should also ask you the same thing. Are you alright? He scratched you up pretty good. And I can't imagine seeing that first-hand was a very plesant experience."

"Ah, I'll be alright, he didn't get me too badly." You lift up your arm as proof; barely any trace of Fenn's claw marks remained. It could pass as a simple sewing needle or thorn poke, if anyone should ask.

"...Can I go see him? Talk to him for a bit?"

Gwendis smiles, "I think he'd like that."

~*~

Your soft footsteps pad down the hallway, arms wrapped around yourself. Even though it's near noon and late spring, there's still a hint of a chill in the castle air. It doesn't take long before you hear voices from the other side of a closed door.

"...know this one would have gladly gone with you. You needn't have risked yourself like that."

"You don't need to remind me, sister dearest..."

Without thinking, or knocking, you gently push on the door, and the hinges creak with desperate need for oil. Adusa-daro and Fennorian immediately turn and look at you; she's standing over him, arms crossed and tail twitching with irritation. He is sitting on the edge of the guest room bed, cradling a brand-new flask in his hands.

"There you are!" Adusa trills happily. "We were talking about you not too long ago!"

"M-my friend! You're alive!" Fennorian exclaims, eyes widening with equal amounts of surprise and joy.

You cock an eyebrow at him, "I could say the same to you, Fennorian. You're certainly looking much better than you were yesterday."

The faintest dusting of a blush creeps across his cheeks as he diverts his eyes, almost shamefully. Seems he just might remember what happened yesterday. Or at least some of it.

Adusa-daro chuckles as she turns to the door you just entered. "This one thinks you two have some stories to share. I'll leave you be for now." She strolls over and makes her dramatic exit, the stopper slipping into place with a loud click.

The silence between you and Fennorian is heavy and palpable. It settles into your chest as he looks up at you with a guilty expression. You return the gaze with nothing but patience and calm. Just as he's about to speak, though, you break the silence first with a heavy sigh through your nose and a slow, deliberate shaking of your head. You wordlessly close the distance and calmly sit down on the bed next to him, arms still wrapped around yourself before they slip into your lap.

Another quiet pause, slightly more awkward but much less tense. Fenn's shoulders visibly relax; you're not mad at him. At least not enough to lecture him like his sister did. His thumbs run up and down the new flask carefully, methodically, as if memorizing this one like he did the old one.

"I don't know what you were thinking, going in there by yourself," you say softly, keeping your gaze on the opposite wall.

"I don't know what I was thinking either, to be honest..." Fennorian responds with equal softness.

"...I'm not going to scold you for it. I heard part of what Adusa was saying to you. You don't need to hear it again."

"...thank you for that."

A third pause since you walked in the room, and he finally turns to you, placing a hand on your leg, "You're not hurt, are you? I know I… lost my composure back there, but… Please be honest with me." The desperation in his voice nearly broke your heart. You close your eyes a moment to steady yourself.

"Well… you more frightened me than anything else," you heed his request and answer honestly. You explain yourself in more detail; the growling, the sight of him devouring the Gray Host sorcerer, the chase down the hallway.

When he tried to bite you on the back of the neck.

There is no anger in your voice, no accusations in your retelling. Just patience and plain facts, as he requested. Fennorian sits and listens quietly, taking in what you have to say and processing it. He doesn't immediately react, possibly taking his time and sorting out his thoughts before he says anything.

"Fenn," you gently get his attention, reaching across to put your hand on his cheek. "I do not fault you for what happened. It was an accident, you had no control-"

"Wait-" he interupts and suddenly grips your outstretched arm, eyes scanning up and down. You quickly realize what he saw; the claw marks on the fleshy part of your forearm, when he had you pinned the first time. You freeze, unsure how to react. Even with the opposite hand, his fingertips fit perfectly in place with the dents, where his claws would have been. If there were any color in his face still, it would have drained as his crimson eyes widen in horrified realization.

"Did… Did I do that to you?" You almost don't hear him speak, his voice is just barely above a pained whisper.

Try as you might to deny it, to help him feel a better, even if only a little so you could discuss it later, the way his hand is placed on your arm is crystal clear proof. Your voice catches in your throat as you close your eyes a moment, then slowly nod with a sigh, confirming his dread.

Fennorian's free hand immediatley goes to his mouth as he gasps, horrified at his actions and that he lost control enough to hurt you.

"I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry, my friend," tears well in his eyes, quickly threatening to spill over while his voice breaks. "I- I cannot… How could I have been so foolish-"

"Hey- Hey, Fennorian, look at me."

You free your hand from his grasp and reach across to cradle his face with both hands, scooting closer to him. "What happened was NOT your fault. You had no control over it, they starved you of blood and you had to defend yourself. And, Gwendis said, most likely because of the adrenaline and stress, the bloodlust took over to protect you. It was not your fault, I assure you."

It might have come across more firm than intended, but it had the effect you had hoped it would. He quiets immediately, unbreaking gaze boring into you. With little warning, Fennorian reaches up and wraps his arms around your chest and shoulders, squeezing you as hard as he can, as if afraid you'll disappear for good. His face buries into the crook of your neck as you return the embrace, holding him close enough you can smell the sweat and Dwarven grease residue in his hair.

"Please don't ever let me do that again," he whispers into your neck. "Don't ever allow me go into those ruins by myself again. If something happened to you because of me…"

Your arms tighten around him as well.

"I promise."

~~~~~

Count Verandis was running through some instructions for a mission. The Vestige was nodding their head, listening.

Sneak into the camp, take notes and don't get noticed. Easy enough.

"I'll be back before sunset!" The Vestige promised with a smile. In an effort to save time and not take the stairs, they leaped toward the window. Unfortunately, the window was not open like they previously believed, and the Vestige smacked into it.

The Count was by their side in an instant. "My friend, are you alright?" He asked, looking conflicted. His eyes twitched between amusement and mild concern. "Why... did you jump at the window?"

The Vestige groaned in embarrassment. "I thought it was open. I... couldn't see that it was closed."

"Do I need to send Gwendis in your stead-"

"No!" The Vestige interrupted loudly. The Count looked surprised by the outburst. "whatever you do, do not tell Gwendis!"

"Don't tell me what?" Gwendis asked by the door, a teasing lilt to her voice.

Verandis answered before the Vestige. "They've run into the window." When Vestige looked at him, betrayed, he was only smiling.