#shldwielded

     ❛❛ PAARTHURNAX  TOLD  ME  OF  YOU...     i  did  not  think  i  would  have  the  pleasure  of  meeting  you  so  soon. ❜❜     caution  rises  like  hackles  on  an  angry  dog         bow  at  the  ready.  arising  from  sitting  position   ,   standing  before  slain  troll   &   spriggan   ;   protective  of  herself   &    fresh  kill.     ❛❛ but  my  soul  is  my  own   &   you  shall  not  have  it.  i’ve  harmed  no  innocents. ❜❜

  HE greeted her with a smile that was, for him, warm. Sven was like the city he hailed from— cold, UNFORGIVING, built up with stone walls high enough to keep the world out. But those walls could be scaled, the ice in his heart melted with fires born of care and good nature, the ROUGHNESS of his edges smoothed into something a little… softer. But all that came with time, and time was perhaps not on his side. Or maybe it was— he always seemed to find a little extra, SOMEHOW.

  “TYYNE,” he spoke with a little bow of his head as the breeze blew blond curls into blue eyes. He moved forward, pressed a little to KISS to both of her cheeks. It was, as much as it could have been for a man like Sven, an act of politeness accompanied by a softer smile. “Good to see you. How has life treated you? Well, I hope?”

Time had passed since their encounter and the huntress wondered, if the gods would bring them together yet again. And yet, the familiar timber from behind had the woman mirroring the smile, the bag from her side was released and hands slipped to his shoulders.

He was always kind, and had no willingness to accept payment for his help with the bandits and the healing - she practicly stole the septims into his pouch at one point he ran out to piss at the tavern-, the thought amused the woman, wondering if there would be retaliation for the deed or if he noticed at all.

RED EYES SCANNED the bar intently, as if sensing a change in the atmosphere. The Imperial to whom those eyes belonged sat up in her stool, setting her mug of mead down. She could smell something, but had no idea what it was. The blood of a lycanthrope? No, not quite. But what, then?

THE VAMPIRE SNIFFED the air once more but found no answer. Perhaps she was just too tense. But she had good reason to be, right? This land was in the midst of a bloody war, and she was part of it. There was always reason to be tense. But she had to blend in. As if that were possible for a damned ancient vampire.

Erik grinned at the man sitted before him and raised his cup in cheer, before emptying it in one shot. He licked his lips and leaned on one elbow as he filled it again. How much times had he poured whiskey in it tonight? He didn’t know, but given the number of bottles lying around on his side of the table, it must be a lot. Still, it wasn’t enough for him as he pressed his cup against his lips, giving a mischievous smile at the Nord, who seemed to be almost as wasted as him.

He put down his drink, blue eyes glistening as he reached to the blonde’s arm, patting it in a friendly manner. He shook his head in approval.

        Through her pain, somehow, a smile grows. It blossoms like spring flower, buds finally released from enveloping snow. Rapunzel is not often hurt like this and, though she knows what Sven speaks is truth --;; she could not help her dramatics. It was well within her creative nature, something her companion seemed yet to understand.

They should.  What protected bad people from bad things?  They never seemed to get what they deserved - not unless someone better rose up to strike them down.

The dunmer shifted uncomfortably, images of his old master’s unceremonious fall from grace playing again before his eyes.  Almost instinctively he reached up, fingers wrapping the cracked gem held tight in the amulet about his neck.