#malkhes

an adventure , she said . bejewelled index finger had hovered over the inked lines of map , pointing to destination . a dwemer ruin . one the woman knew that had yet to be plundered , to be explored . hand-picked soldier of imperial army , one to accompany her , one who held a strangeness about his soul . a small trap to discover who and what he was .

Misc. Asks ;; Always Accepting

The flurry of butterflies intensify. Hypnotic in their chaotic dance. A waltz of temptation, wildly circling their mistress who seems to phase in & out with them before they settle into a cloak-like formation. Floating delicately at her shoulders & down her back. She even gives him a little twirl! Cackling to herself as she senses the fire within him.

Why hold back ? She certainly wouldn't.

With Calcemo whipped into a frenzy over the recent happenings of the day, as his apprentice, Sypha was unfortunately not spared from his bickering with seemingly everyone he ran across. As Court Wizard, he directed what Sypha and his own nephew, Aicantar, were to do and that day seemed to involve readying themselves for the bevy of imperial officers and their traveling parties that would soon be descending upon the Reach. As a hold loyal to the Empire, it made sense that Jarl Igmund would want them to look their best. Every member of the court had bathed and laundered their clothing, polishing their armor and shoes. It felt begrudgingly performative, but it was one of the only times they or Aicantar had to really care about the affairs of court.

With a herald announcing the arrival of the Imperial party, the massive metallic ingress swung upon and a slant of sunlight welcomed their guests in.

Does your character have recurring themes in their dreams?

In their nightmares, it's definitely the genocide of their sister witches over and over again. On fairer nights, probably reminisces of past war campaigns when Sypha was younger with their monkish brothers. They weren't pleasant, but not nearly as traumatizing as the genocide itself.

Is your character preoccupied with money or material possession? Why or why not?

No. Even as a child, Sypha has always lived in some form of self-sufficient poverty. While it was always within their means that they lived, Sypha has never cared for anything materialistic beyond practicality; having clothes in good shape, gear that isn't falling apart, and enough Ducats to pay for the odd necessity here or there are important but creature comforts has never been a want of theirs.

How does your character normally deal with confrontation?

entering as he so pleased. even into the lair of such a notable figure. it was not safe from his presence. why, it was just a surprise visit, no? a gathering between confidants. but tone was worth more than a thousand words! he appeared possibly annoyed, bothered. devil so bold would come with open arms, a smirk rather fiendish to match the company he would bring. " oh, how you wound me so. " grin of the mischevious monarch would read otherwise. his saunter never waning. " can't one simply visit an old friend? " tone played the role of innocent, though it should be better known that it was a false guise... — a false guise; much like the form he presented in.

She had an uncanny penchant to notice when she was being followed, even without actively noticing. Was it her nose, her ears... Or did a Nightingale of Nocturnal just know these things? Regardless of the truth, it was the reason she was not terribly surprised upon hearing the crunch of footsteps on the brush.

Honestly, it seemed as time went by that a night without being followed at some point was more the rarity, anyways.

Valvossa turned to face the voice, finding herself near face to face with a vampire. The coloring of the eyes was curious, but there was no mistaking him for anything else. If the teeth didn't give him away, it was the tone of his voice. Predatory and snooty.

“Yeah, good luck getting your fangs through this, buddy.”

She took a step back, one hand falling to the hilt of her sword. Even with a helmet veiling her face, her eyes seemed to ask: What else am I supposed to think here? She wasn't going to be caught surprised at any ill intent. And the intent of a vampire approaching a lone stranger at night spelled anything but.

no , no , you SHOULD bite . whatever . whoever .

"...hey, don't you worship, like, a murder god or something, Old Man? It's cool you're, like... a supportive parent or whatever, but also I probably shouldn't take advice from you."