#ariveth

@ariveth​

He snorts hard, almost choking inside his tankard at the irreverent gall to e'er be parted from Ariveth's blessed presence. As if wouldst he willingly leave her side and to be borne without laughing, cackling, moaning out her name in the sweetest, pain'd bliss; to feel her fingers through his hair, to go if naught a week--- nay, a day without her molten, volcanic eyes to look upon his face with such an open fondness, seemingly only grafted ‘twards his own face in all the Unknown World.

He pats at his breast hard, closed fist, as he coughs in a rough, bubbling sound; cackling in that underlying chorus. Behind the counter of the Frozen Hearth, Dagur looks upon him as if in an amused half-concern, and waves Roland his hand in amiability to prevent such a worry.

"Damn upon that streak of a falling Star wouldst it borne terribly boring without thee," wheezes he, and pats again at his breast and laughs out the rest of his trapped mead. He thumbs tears 'way from his eyes; still grinning.

Ariveth had wormed her way in, making him itch in places he could not scratch.  She knew his limits, his tender points, she knew how to get him to bare his teeth, to roll over, to show his belly.  Farkas would never deny her.  On some level, he understood the power she held, but still he could not help but bristle with anger, that fury hallmarked by a splintered ache at the centre of his chest.  Inside, the wolf was all fangs and raised hackles.  It showed in his manly form, it robbed of his coherence.

“Fuck off.” 

Predictably, following the pattern of their past disagreements, Ariveth leaned closer, unimpressed, unafraid of his fraying temper and the deepening scowl that darkened warpainted features.  Insufferable, inciteful woman – yet one stitched into his heart, laced in tender, sinuous feelings.  How quickly his anger spilled into something else, readily redirected by the elegant arch of her spine, the choreographed flutter of eyelashes.  His diseased blood already ran hot, each furious breath catching between his teeth.  Control fractured and, in that instant, he reached for her, seizing her by the jaw.  A growl emanated from somewhere deep in his chest, reverberating in his throat, as the callused pad of his thumb swiped furiously over Ariveth’s rude lips, resolve ruined by their sly softness, by her knowing smirk.

ariveth asked : 👀 / nothing to see here just some totally not-assassins smoochin

Send 👀 for our muses having to kiss in order to avoid detection from someone. @ariveth -- accepting

        𝐈𝐭'𝐬 𝐚 𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐦 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐬𝐞𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐬 𝐚 𝐭𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐧 𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦 𝐜𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐬, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐬 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐬𝐨 𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨. Most of the time, it was a bigger challenge to break into the window of a house, but it all served Astrid in the end. Astrid never preferred a room at an inn.

        In the dimly lit room, Ariveth lays in her bed, Astrid’s dagger resting underneath her chin. The shadows perfectly captured the sharp angles of her face, darkening her brows, and brightening her collarbones to her wandering eye. Astrid loomed over her in the shadowed corner, her shoes damp from the snow (a disadvantage of light armor), and her cloak blanketing her form with its warmth. She traveled all the way from the foggy, damp, green forests of Falkreath to the snowy mountaintops of Skyrim just to see Ariveth in the name of revenge. It wasn’t a short journey by any means, dark circles lingered under her eyes but her eyes gleamed with excitement.

        ❝ You look cozy, ❞ Astrid breaks the silence, her voice sickly sweet. On the other side of the door, she can overhear the sweep of a broom against stone and a cough caught in one’s throat, but overall, the tavern is empty after all the drunks stumbled back home. The perfect time of night when everyone, but Astrid, was expected to be sleeping. ❝ But I don’t intend to draw this out. We both understand why I’m here, and we've wasted enough time already. ❞

        Her knife juts forward, its razor end begins to pierce into Ariveth’s skin when the door creaks open as blood starts to sweep over the blade. A flood of light washes over the side of the bed, making her eyebrows lift and her eyes widen. Astrid draws her blade away, a small speck of blood coats the point and buries it into the pillow beneath Ariveth as she moves to straddle her enemy in a matter of seconds. A cascade of blonde curls unleashes from under her cowl as she pushes it off her head before tugging down her mask from over her nose and mouth. The cloth material tickles her chin as she halts her quickened breath, sealing her lips over Ariveth’s. 

        It dawns on her how soft Ariveth’s lips are, like the petals of nightshade, but Ariveth is nothing but a deathbell to Astrid. A poisonous figure that had drawn away her thoughts from what was important, stealing her kill, and running off into the night with no mercy. She trudged out into the cold, snowy depths that Skyrim offered just to get another chance to kill her, going through more than enough people to track her down to this inn. She wasn’t hiding away in a mouse hole, or in the thicket of some forest, but rather she stayed in a common area. An area she should’ve looked for in the first place. Even if it meant drinking poison, for only a moment, for her to kill her, she’d do what it takes.  

He could get far enough on his own - all while trying to avoid some higher ranking members of the thieves guild. Unfortunately, his contacts were few and far between, but that was what lead him here.

A great vacation on Solstheim because someone refused to allow him into their plane of oblivion. No doubt a situation, that wasn't here nor there, but still made him on edge. Far more than normal and that was saying something.

Normally, his cowl would stay locked in his bag; hidden away from prying eyes, but for the most part, he was going to enjoy his no doubt limited stay here. It was not only the least that he could have, but it was also was what he no doubt deserved.

No doubt he'd get a fair amount of attention, but that was fine with him. Follow their own laws, keep his head on his shoulders and everything would be fine. If he did happen to get his hands on a certain artifact as well? It happened to be in good form.

   She stalks through the undergrowth, tracking the group of deer through the trees, cat-like eyes glinting faintly in the moonlight. This was what Haru was used to -- scouting and hunting on her own. It wasn’t that Xiao was bad company, she just preferred to have time to herself.

   But she wasn’t by herself, was she?

   Clawed hands flex lightly as another smell hits her nose nearby. Her gaze scans the clearing, trying to see what or who else may be in the trees. The deer move further away before she softly speaks.

   ❝ I know you’re out there... in the shadows. ❞

Naryu’s figure easily fit in the rough chitin armor. She bore a scarf, pauldron, and a pair of daggers etched with old writings. Her goggles and helmet remained in a pouch and slung over the shoulder.

The boat rocked against the pier.     “Welcome to Solstheim. Strange happenings lately with these murders. People getting worried they’re next. Keep your wits about you.”     “Oh no! How could a poor woman survive in this place?” Naryu word’s dripped with playful sarcasm. She smirked and tossed a pouch on the boat.    “For the service.”

          walking alone these days in Skyrim was usually a rare occurrence & few dared to do so unless they were a warrior, yet again, she had nothing to be frightful of considering her... condition.

          the female continued along her path with no urgency or care; that was at least until a suspicious rustle came from a nearby cluster of trees. was it friend or foe? she did not care, but that did not mean that Serana was not unprepared in case any combat ensued.