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« Un portrait de Pétrus, par Napoléon Thomas, fut exposé au Salon de 1833. — Gilet rouge, habit aux larges revers pointus, gants sang-royaliste, chapeau pointu, barbe et cheveux flottants, tenue de Bousingot et de Jeune-France; le tout dans un cadre tricolore. »
Alphonse Parran, Petrus Borel
A portrait of Pétrus by Napoléon Thomas was exhibited at the 1833 Salon. — red waistcoat, a frock coat with a large pointed collar, gloves of a royalist-blood shade of red, a pointed hat, flowing hair and beard, the attire of a Bousingot and a Jeune-France; all that within a tricolor frame.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Memories punctured, skin torn, dragon roars. Overhead was the chorus of dragons, hailing her “victory” over Alduin, his slayer. Lily weakly tries to sit up before letting her eyes roam. Paarthurnax was by her side, and so was Odahviing, both focus on the choir of dragons.
And as the choir vacated to all directions, she finally made eye contact with Odahviing. “Thuri” Odahviing whispers, pledging his loyalty.
Lily turn to Paarthurnax, who seem rejuvenated in spirit, eager to spread the teachings of the Way of the Voice.
Odahviing mumbles in discontent, his words seemingly incoherent. She turn back to Paarthurnax who has since landed besides her, staring intently. Dizziness and numbness became apparent when they started nudging her upwards.
The dragonborn passed out.
He awoken with a desperate howl in her stomach, soreness in every limb, heavy blanket, bandages over her eyes and the melody of the wind and flickering flame keeping her company. At least its better company than ... Him. And I am alive.
She wanted to go back to sleep, hoping for a dreamless night but her stomach refuse to comply. She hears a shift of cloth, no robes, down the hall, heading towards her room.
"Dragonborn, you're finally awake."
That voice. Arngeir.
Lily open her mouth, but a cough came out, words retreating back. She tried getting up, quickly laying back down once pain shot up her right arm.
“Rest, Dragonborn. You are still recuperating and in no condition to move."
"Arngeir ... how .....did...-"
"Paarthurnax. He was carrying your unconscious body to our doorstep. And you been recuperating since." She then felt some hands helping her sit up, and another hand guiding her hand around what seems to be a water pouch. "Drink, eat, rest, dragonborn. We can discuss more later. But don't undo your bandages. Breath and focus."
Lily eagerly drank and ate every bowl and pouch before sleeping more. And as restless as her sleep were, she craved more and more. And once morning arrive, the bandages around her eyes were removed.
"Dragonborn, how are you feeling?"
"Better."
"Good." Arngeir handed her a wet towel. And as Lily wash her face, a refreshing relief, Arngeir continued: "you've seen the land of the gods and returned, I can see it in your eyes. Does it mean...is it done?" uneasiness radiated in his words, "Is Alduin truly defeated?"
Lily looks down into her free hand, slowly making a fist, but hesitant to clench. "I...hope so." Breath. "But...but, I don't know if Alduin can ever be completely destroyed."
She watches as Arngeir sagely nods, "Perhaps. Perhaps not. Dragons are not like normal mortal creatures, and Alduin is unique even among dragonkind. He may be permitted to return at the end of time to fulfill his destiny as the World-Eater. But that is for the gods to decide, you have done your part."
Lily breathe became rapid and uneasy, but Arngeir places a reassuring hand on her shoulder, before moving towards the window, looking out. "You've shown yourself mighty, both in Voice and deed. In order to defeat Alduin, you've gain mastery of dreadful weapons. Now it is up to you," Arngeir turns back, face to face, "to decide what to do with your powers and skill. Will you be a hero whose name is remembered in song throughout the ages? Or ..." Arngeir softly places a bowl of water in her lap, "will your name be a curse to future generations? Or will you merely fade from history, unremembered? Let the Way of the Voice be your guide, and the path of wisdom will be clear to you. Breath and focus, Dragonborn. Your future lies before you."
Lilys eyes cannot face Arngeir, watching the water showing the results of her battle ... why her eyes felt so heavy...
Her own eyes reminded her of dragons. How ...
"Be at ease, Dragonborn. Before you are permitted to leave, Paarthurnax would like to speak with you."
"...thank you, Arngeir," she whispers. Her hand goes to cover her eyes, tentatively massaging it. “So ... how much longer am I bed ridden?"
“Another few weeks. May be even longer. Rest now, Dragonborn. Flesh can only heal so fast. But you should be able to move about High Hrothgar relatively soon.”
Lily laid back down, staring at the ceiling for seemingly ages before the darkness of slumber engulf her.
Zu'u los unslaad. Hi nis filok zu'u, Dovahkiin. Joor.
Darkness surrounds her as she felt being watched. Its just a nightmare, its just a nightmare-
Niid. No nightmare, Dovahkiin, rumbled his voice, echoing from all directions.
Disorientating. Terrifying. Paralyzing. All kept her standstill, slightly quivering.
You cannot rid me easily, arrogant joor. Fin lein fen oblaan. Ahrk hi fen watch, helplessly.
She tries to back and run but his distance remain the same. Ever behind her, around her, never outside her sight.
Tried preparing a spell - fizzles out; Shouting - silence. Desperately punching - no movement and agony. The thick air chocked her before easing. Pressure exerted on top of her, crushing her before it to left. Winds swell to sweep her back and forth across the ground. He is toying with me ...
You may have defeated me, but you never be free of me. In the end, I will devour all. And you WILL witness your utter uselessness to stop it.
And there consequences for your traitorous actions, Dovahkiin. Enjoy your hallow victory, hope the price you paid was worth it. Kos grateful mal mey. Ni fin worse daar lost befallen hin fron.
Her eyes finally shot open and a heavy breath of air escapes her lungs, eyes watering. Panting, she slowly calms herself down, trying not to worry about Alduin's words. And more frighteningly that her dreams have a connection to him from out there in Aetherius. Thats when she spotted a Greybeard entering, but...that one isn't Arngeir. Regardless, she quickly wiped away at her face and got herself up by the railing on the left side of the bed.
There are four Greybeards living in High Hrothgar she recalls - Arngeir, Borri, Wulfgar and Einarth with Arngeir being the only one able to speak. She knew she meet the others, master Einarth taught her the second word to Unrelenting Force but...she cannot put a face to his name. They gentle dropled off her breakfast on the cabinet next to her bed before nodding at her and slowly leave the room, turning around to check once again before disappearing into the hall.
Lily laid back down going over her memories. Named all her housecarls - cannot attach a face. Same with her colleagues in the College of Winterhold, her companion Inigo, the Companions, the Jarls. She felt her throat constrict as she continues off a list of names - that bastard, Grandma and Grandpa, her childhood friends, her...her dad's friends. Dad himself.
She kept digging to every memory with dad - him teaching her to use magic. Reading her to bed, watching him cook...going on walks... learning to swim...traveling with him around Valenwood...seeing the ocean for the first time...his face; just a void.
All their faces are just voids. All their faces gone, some whom, she will never get back.
No. Niid. No no no no no! her mind scream as she chokes on her own tears. Gods no, you can't be...Akatosh why! Memories are all I have of left, and if he- if he-if he...
She couldn't, wouldn't finish the thought - refuse to entertain that idea. Slowly she started her breathing exercises to calm herself down. Reaching for the bowl left for her, Lily tried to eat her meal, but left a good chunk of it for later.
She laid back down and closed her eyes. She wants to scream, to Shout, to burn - but none of that would bring back those fragmented pieces of her memories. Its not like she can take revenge or commune with Akatosh about Alduins petty behavior. Because that all it was - petty attack by a god for fuck sake because he got his butt whooped by a mortal. A mortal sent by that god's father as per the prophecy on Alduin's Wall.
Ughhhhhghgghgh.
Arngeir enter the room with a fresh bowl of food and water. Lily herself to smile and thanks Arngeir for the fresh provisions.
"Is everything alright, Dragonborn?" he questioned.
"Mhm," she nods, trying to get through the food given, " just. An upset stomach this morning."
"I suggest not eating as quickly then," he said, which caused her to scarf down her food more slowly, "but feel free to walk around and ask us for help, Dragonborn."
"I...I will. Thank you Arngeir for tending to me."
As soon as he left the room, Lily put away her food and hid under the covers. She doesn't know what to do, what to say, anything. And more horrifically that sleeping won’t help avoid her problems. Not as if she can avoid sleep, nor wants to, to sleep is to rest. To relax. To forget.
She did not knew how long her somber sobs lulled her to dream, only to experience an eerily quiet void once more. The burning. Her shoulder burning. Burning as she is unable to move an inch, as an eerie shadow lurks in the void. A shadow slithers under her skin, it aches. It roars.
She woke up with a fright, with blue khajiit by her side, with a worry stare. “LILY! You’re alive! Wait, I shouldn’t say that, of course you are alive.’
“Inigo ...”
She may of forgotten who he was for a moment, but she didn’t forget his voice, his name. He was her companion through this whole adventure.
