#astrongwill

Hey, so I’m going to make a tag index for quotes and things that relates to the relationships Plava forms on and off here. I’ll make a page for it, because this list will get longer the more we interact with people, but here’s just some :D

Elanin:  #Big Pup

Athol: #Warm Dragon

Fjalnir: #God-Axe

Haaki: #Puppy Petter 

Gwayncalon laughed in spite of, or more because of, her answer. It was so ridiculous he couldn’t stop himself. “No, no! It’s fine.” He shook his head as he tried to calm down enough to answer her in a sufficient manner.

Finally he was able to gather his wits enough to answer the woman. “Hones’ly? I don’ know. ‘S a bit of old Reach wisdom…she died b’fore she could explain it though. An’ I ne’er wanted to ask ‘nyone else. Just seemed like somethin’ to say. Y’know?”

“Well, it’s intriguing to think about, now that you’ve brought it up,” Caesa mused. “What does one sing songs about, anyway? Usually tales of old heroes, glorious conquest, that sort of thing, yes? Well, dead men sing no songs... because they’re dead. Do they even care anymore, what feats and heroics the living get up to? Why would they, really?”

She tapped her chin thoughtfully. The odd little proverb had piqued her interest, and, as was her tendency, the Imperial found herself getting absorbed in puzzling it out.

Sera wasn’t technically working for Kami tonight at the inn, but she had become so accustomed to doing so that she couldn’t help but greet newcomers as they came through the door. Whatever, she figured it would help Kami out by giving her a bit of a heads up that people had entered.

So even though she was stretched out at a table with her feet up on the chair in front of her, she habitually greeted the stranger that walked through the door.

Isran was saying something – which wasn’t surprising, because Plava was beginning to suspect he liked the sound of his own voice and periodically tuned him out. He came off a bit haughty, and entirely rough around the edges, but that was fine. That was probably why she got used to him so fast, still, her eyes appeared to glaze over in the dining room of Fort Dawnguard – in the vague direction of Gunmar, which again, wasn’t surprising. Her mind was mostly on the Vigilant, who hadn’t returned from Dimhollow Crypt. All of it bore a bad omen to her, and awful as the Vigilants may be towards werewolves, she had respected him when he had fiercely stood up to Isran even if it meant walking to his death.  It had even garnered an apology from Isran, something that had floored her in a moment. Still, her eyes remained glazed over in the direction of the blacksmith until Sorine gave her a too-hard thump on the back.

“-Ah!”

“Are you even listening? You’re being assigned a more experienced member of the Dawnguard for your first independent mission,” Isran said, thumbing over to Elanin.  “-and you’ll be taking assignments from Sorine and Gunmar for now. Prove you’re worth your salt and we’ll get you off recruiting, understood?”

☽ -   She had known that they were following her for the past three hours on her way to Winterhold. There was something incredibly important she needed to look into, and the bastards had seen her and decided to follow her. Not that she was complaining, since they hadn’t outright attacked her yet, but Caillean was certain they were planning to. Damned Thalmor. They were probably sent out by Elenwen to track her down. Again, not that she was complaining.

     Already the Psijic had dealt with five different groups of Justiciars out for her blood, all on Elenwen’s orders. What made matters worse was the fact that Caillean was Dragonborn, and therefore prone to be stronger than any assassin sent to kill her. It was bad enough that she was already so gifted in the schools of magic, but her dragonborn heritage added to that power with every soul devoured. It had led to her own power becoming unstable at times, such as now.

     With the city in sight, Caillean continued on her path until she walked up to the archway leading to the College. She felt rather than saw them stop a few feet back, so she turned to watch them. What were they doing following her anyway? Thalmor or not, Caillean wasn’t going to take that from fellow Altmer, and her gold eyes narrowed.

     “Are you peons going to attack me or not?” She asked finally, crossing her arms over her chest.

     “We are here to speak with the Archmage.”

     She highly doubted that, especially given the trouble with the last Thalmor official sent to the College. However, she wasn’t the one to outright deny their claim either. Caillean was still suspicious of them, however, knowing that Elenwen wanted her dead, partly for the trouble she caused at the Embassy, and partly for embarrassing the Ambassador at the peace talks in High Hrothgar.

     “I’ll bet you are.” She replied darkly, unfolding her arms and turning away from them. Without a word, she walked up the path over the crumbling bridge to enter the College. She really needed to do more research and try to gain control over her own power. So she was silent as the Thalmor followed behind her.