#leiffe

7.Something they’re proud of?

He is very proud of his tracking skills, especially for how large and heavy he is. 

10.How does your OC react when they’re embarrassed?

He growls and blushes. And then stops talking to the people until he can escape.

12. Are they a morning person or a night owl?

[Prompt]

38. "Don't be mad."

"You tried to kill me!" she spat venomously, though her voice was still low and even. The Nord glared at the mer for some time, before she clenched her teeth, raised a nearby Draugr, and backed away from him.

[Prompt]

33: Talk about what you do when you are sad.

"Try to cheer up usually," she replied with a small laugh. "Sometimes I’ll go for a swim, or read a book. Usually, I’ll head to the cemetery and tidy up the graves, maybe tell a few stories if I can think of any."

40: Talk about the end of something in your life.

[Prompt]

33. "Well? Are you in or are you out?"

Tortulja eyed the mer quietly. Something about him was off, and it was more than just his appearance. Something in his tone, in those dead eyes of his. Still, she offered him a small smile, but shook her head.

The two mer continued to size up one another, hostility evident between the black of dilated pupils and ebon gaze. The amber tint of his eyes followed the others form in interest, if not a little appreciatively. Sight finding a mirrored hand upon hilt, Nemurah shivered in slight; excited and delirious from the tension. Were he a creature who obeyed the rules of the wild, he would have averted his gaze in submission, stepped away. Yet worded threats meant little to those who danced around death, graceful and daring as though upon a knife’s edge. Between savages, words meant nothing.

Still, the soft, honey-tone of his voice resounded clear through the splatter of rainfall. Accent of Altmeris but a gentle, deceptive whisper.  “If that’s what you want.” Un-swayed by the mer’s fearsome appearance, he leant closer to leer, yellow gaze fierce, piercing. “I dare you to try.” Despite venomous challenge therein a sudden design of artifice entered his mind. Inspiration such a spark that intense gaze cast off to chase the plans of growing scheme. Whether result proved successful or not was a risk he cared little for, concern a fleeting notion for those who lived, trained and understood Valenwood’s darkest ways of life.

There came the crack of his smile; pink flesh of cunning tongue sliding forth to wet the stripe of his lip. His demeanour and expression changed anew as if he’d seen sense; as if before he had truly been bluffing. Apparently compliant and in arrogant amusement he’d have this stranger believe it so.

Let him think I am but words.

With a condescending sigh he stepped away and gestured a silver ringed hand, tone unerringly calm.  “There are many ahead. You’d do well to avoid their ilk.” He paused but to smirk at what he considered a tattered, embellished appearance. What might have been flecked blood of unintended adornment did little to dissuade his attitude. “But you look like someone out for murder, by all means...” He yielded submissively, arm set outcast to defer lead. Raven head canted humbly in direction of the keep ahead.