#nextsummersseeds

War: Has your character ever fought in any wars? If they haven’t then what’s their opinion on the current affairs in Skyrim? Do they back the Imperials or the Stormcloaks?

Dalamus has never fought in any wars, himself, but has lived through many battles and conflicts--including the Oblivion Crisis--which I should really research and expand on in the future...

The current political affairs in Skyrim mostly annoy Dalamus, as he pays little attention to them. Stormcloaks have a very negative reputation if you ask.. well, basically anyone who is not a Nord. That said, Dalamus would choose neutrality, if possible. If not possible, he would reluctantly side with Imperials.

Gold: How does your character make their money?

Much of Dalamus’ income is obtained via the Thieves Guild, but he has other sources, too. Dalamus works at Arzuug’s book shop, Prints and Paper, repairing/restoring older or well-worn books. On rare occasion, he will take a mercenary job. 

“That is a wholly unfair question... There are many things I desire to do. Small things come to mind first--bathing, cleaning, drinking, sleeping, running, riding. More significant things would be... Spending time with friends, with Nimthia, with Mina. Making love to Mina. Write to E’hla and then throw the letter away.

The Companions are angered at me. I picked too many fights. Tural thinks he has to be in my business, in everyones business.

I can’t fucking stand him. 

It magically doesn’t have anything to do with the fact he beat me in Chorrol. It has to do with the fact that something about him makes the wolf in me rise, makes me want to rip and tear and gorge on blood and intestine. 

It does not hurt so much anymore.

I did not even realize my pain was gone until I found myself listening to my locket’s song in an attempt to sleep more soundly one night. It used to fill me with happiness, but then dread and sorrow, and now it brings me calm. Strange, but I suppose I cannot complain overly much.

I still miss you, E’hla. I do. But the pain of you walking away no longer sits on my chest like a mammoth. Now and then I think of you, still, and wonder where you are, or what you are doing. If you are happy. If you are thinking of me, too. But it does not crush me anymore. I can think of you, hope you are happy, then sigh and continue on. I have stopped my spiraling, I think. I am no longer drowning in my guilt so much.

I guess what I am trying to say is. I think I will be alright, E’hla. I do not know if that would make you happy, or if you care at all what I do at this point, but I think I will be alright. And even though I have fucked up a lot, I am going to keep myself afloat, and I am going to work towards being a better father for our daughter. I like to think you would be proud of me, but I know it is too late for that, now.

I mean, things are still complicated. I still feel guilt, and sadness, and some anger, but I have also found some calm and happiness. Tortulja is a godsend, for starters. I would not even know where to start thanking her. She has done so much for me, for our family. Dag is. Well. Still Dag. Which is unfortunate. But I am trying to put my misgivings aside concerning him. He is, after all, still a child. And, honestly, I was not much different at his age.

Soon after E’hla had departed and Llaara stormed away, I sought some kind of help from the Temple of Mara. One of the healers there, Minaese, I had seen there before but not conversed at length with until that day. A while later, some weeks, perhaps, we shared some secrets or sins or. We bared a lot of soul to one another, I suppose is one way to put it? She spoke to me as an equal and went beyond my expectations to really help me untangle my thoughts and emotions and situation and hopelessness.

We are courting, now, though quietly. I do not think Llaara would be at all ready to see me with someone who is not her mother. So, we have not made our affairs or courting public. She reminds me of Falin in all the best ways. She makes me feel calm. Like a breath of fresh air after being cooped up inside my own head for too long, going stir crazy from my thoughts. She reminds me how to be gentle, how to be soft. I can be weak in front of her without fear.

I do not want to write on and on--though I could--but it is the middle of the night and I do not wish to disturb Nimthia’s sleep with my candle’s light. I felt like writing because, for the first time in a very long time, I feel hopeful. Perhaps it is a timid and hesitant hope, but it is hope nonetheless.

Blood soaked him. His hair was matted with it, it dripped from his hands and his face. 

His grin was wide, feral, and startling white against the blood covering his face. He wiped a hand across his face, only serving to smear more blood across it. He stood finally, a wince of pain crossing his face as he grabbed at the broken arrow shaft that was grating against his hip.