#skyeve

1. ‘i can’t sleep’ sex

Her stirring was what brought him to consciousness there in his looming castle chambers, where lit iron candle-stands fought a losing battle against the dark that consumed the room. Some had died, leaving wisps of smoke to drift up into the air in defeat. And in the cold silence, his wife was there to warm his undead bones, shifting restlessly.

The glow of his eyes, dim with sleep not fully gone, came in crescent moon slivers as he blinked blearily. He rolled half beneath the furs stretched over their bodies and slid his palm from her side to cradle her spine sweetly, laying his lips to the pulse at her temple. His bare thigh brushed her leg.

“What’s the matter, lass?”

sky-eve:

(X)

It wasn’t uncommon for Evela to find herself tossing and turning throughout the night. One of the downsides of the beast blood was the restlessness that accompanied it, even during nighttime hours; it could probably all be chalked down to the simple fact that werewolves had more energy than those not afflicted, and that transformations seemed stronger under the moonlight than they were during the day—especially if the twin moons were full. She probably should have been used it to by now, and she was, to an extent, but it didn’t make the restless nights any easier.

Part of her considered wandering the castle simply to find something to do with this excess energy; the darkened halls and its vampire residence didn’t unnerve her the way they used to the first few times she stayed here. But another part didn’t want to leave the warmth of her bed or her husband’s side even as he slept. She studied him as he slumbered, memorizing the features of his face she was almost certain were branded into her mind, anyway: the high, defined cheekbones, the curve of his lips, the shape of his jaw and the red trimmed beard that grew over it. Her fingers traced over that damnably handsome jaw, then down his throat and to his chest, where they drew indiscernible patterns and symbols. She almost let her hands skim lower…but she refrained, if only because she figured it would be rude of her to make her restless night his as well. For a vampire, he kept strange hours.

But watching her husband’s sleeping form only sated her for so long; lying still only made her more restless, and she found herself rolling onto her back to stare at the ceiling, and then onto her side again facing away from him a few moments after that…and then deciding Rowan was a much more pleasant visage to focus her gaze on than the rest of the room and turned back to nestle against his side. She continued to shift a little here and there, trying not to move too abruptly or bump against him too much as she tried to find a position that might entice her into sleep. All effort to keep from disturbing him was in vain, apparently, as he turned towards her with the sleepy, slow movements of someone who had just been roused from sleep. The decent part of her mind mentally cursed herself for waking her husband when he probably had things to do in court come morning…but it would be a lie to say she wasn’t a little happy now that he was awake.

“Nothing. Can’t sleep,” came her murmured answer to his question, followed by a tired sigh. She lifted her head until her lips found his throat, pressing a gentle kiss there. “Did I wake you?”

“Well, aye, I suppose you did,” rejoined Rowan, smiling drowsily. His speech was deep and slightly amused. “It wouldn’t be the first time, dearest. Even in sleep, you run.”

Ah, but he wasn’t angry. Far from it.

Rowan’s head dipped until her mouth was claimed. The warmness in her lips brought forth a contented sigh in him. Tender heat, a kindling in the castle atmosphere ruled by the frigidness of the cold north sea, and death. Gods, Eve was a gift.

He broke away from the kiss as gently as the sun left its embrace of the mountains at dawn – that slowly – and his lips anchored at her jawline.

“You know I don’t mind,” he said, peppering kiss after kiss up along the spot and down again, in no certain hurry. “What a fool Lord I would be, to complain of a bonnie Lady wolf in my bed.”

His hand, the one that’d settled at her spine, slipped to descend until stopping right above the small crease crowning her cheeks. His thumb pad dared to rub back and forth, there, and even slid to momentarily occupy the topmost space in between.

“Fret not, mo chridhe. I can think of a way to send you after the prey that eludes you in your dreams,” he assured her, his body shifting closer.

{{ Today is my birthday! Celebrating that as well as two years of this blog, I wanted to say thank you with a little list of the people who’ve made roleplaying on Tumblr such an enriching experience for me }}

The Squad: Blogs that I’ve had the pleasure of talking to out of character, and consider friends. Awesome writers and artists and all-around cool people

@roguenobility @sky-eve @deviltopay @sonofcyrodiil @indarkness-sheprays @notamongrel @wayoftheold @thatimperialbastard @wandererinfinitum @acrossbloodwater @house-gardinier @notyourlark @rhupa @alunokaaz @sewnelf @shadows-of-almsivi @nordicdragonborn @celindrea @ancientspecter @noumalatu @thelittlestimperial @aldmeriopinion @littlecollectionist @asthecorvidaefly @eyeofapocrypha @stealsforherself

And finally, a few blogs that I’ve only spoken to a little bit, if at all, but love to see on my dash as I admire from afar (because I’m awkwardness incarnate tbh)

@koussikka @bones-of-the-reach @maidensofthewicked @spellsword-archer @ofheroesandcons @brielleroux @llerynserathis @nemurah @thethievingbard

With the ceremony behind them, and night coming on, he and Eve made a retreat for her snowbound home in the Pale, together, alone, at last.

They had given and taken the gift of each other's love before in darkness and grasping hands, but not so quite the same as now. That night, they became as one through the union of matrimony, in their own way. Like he did, Rowan's heart hungered in voracious snarls and snapping teeth... Eve was rightly placed, by his side.

The weakest glimpse of dawn peeked at them through the window, and Rowan stirred from the bliss of love-warmed sleep. Excited to embrace what'd he'd been separated from since his earlier days, Rowan slipped from bed to make ready, dressing in his normal attire for the foreseeable time ahead. He needed his armor for traveling; when the road drew nearer to the border, he'd don the enchanted trinkets from Caesa for his mortal visage, and clothe himself in the colors of his home.

The woman he had married was off to a slower start, it looked like. (Then again, he had left her arms to welcome the morning much earlier than he ever had before. His incentive was apical.)

Boot steps muffled as he could manage, Rowan returned to rouse her. He allowed his eyes to fall nearly shut as he bent over her dozy expression, one hand snaking around her blanketed waist, the other into her tangled fray of hair. Even so tousled from the battle of their bodies, it was beautiful to him.

"Cadalach ceann, feumaidh tu ag èirigh," he muttered with a thrum, smiling close enough to her ear that the tickle of his lips would be felt. The chance was high she wouldn't know the words, and he wouldn't tell her their meaning (for now). That was the charm of it, he thought.

"The day is here. Am I to believe my noble lady wife--" his teasing lapsed as he stopped to appreciate the feeling of the word that formed and left him, "Will be accompanying me to High Rock looking the part of a lass tossed from her horse?"

Tenth of Sun’s Height, Mid day. The snow of the Pale had mercifully lessened in its falling, the light flakes of powder descending from the Nord heavens to wondrously grace the small, seated crowd that had gathered in the special place chosen from Evela’s childhood. The horse-drawn sleighs nearby were empty, now, with each guest they had transported well in attendance. Large fires blazed, strewn about the area to provide warmth for those who were about to witness what they had come for. 

Yet, the fires were not needed to warm the hearts of the couple whose bonds were to be celebrated. At least, in Rowan’s case, they weren’t -- he felt lit up within, as if the love he bore for Eve was a hearth that burned ever bright inside him. It was radiant, and strong... and it was the reason he was here with her, today.

It was to be a splendidly joyous occasion, and one Rowan suspected he’d never once forget in all the immortal years that lay before him. And to think that, afterward, he was homeward bound for the prospering territory of his clan with his bonnie bride beside him... yes, this marked a day for the history books. His excitement could scarcely be contained.

At the back of the group, the bride and groom waited, sheltered beneath the leather roofing of a tent. The vampire, dressed in the noble presentation of the wool tartan of his old clan, peeked out from the slit between the tent flaps to eye the attendees. 

General Tullius was here; a good sign if ever there was one, for Rowan had worried his retirement from the Legion forces during such a heavy time of strife between the Empire and the Stormcloaks would instill an everlasting ire in the grizzled military man. Apparently it had not. Flitting his keen gaze over the rest, Rowan saw a few choice members of his coven, including Garan, had taken their places. The few Evela had invited had come, as well, and... 

... Good, the priestess was now here, standing at the head of the crowd behind a small wooden altar as she prepared to wed him to Eve, his wild wolf girl.

“Everyone is present, it seems,” he commented softly, angling his head to the side to offer his questioning. His hand came up, fingers slipping between the spaces of hers. “Ready then, lass?”

Send 📖 for my muse to read out an entry in their journal/diary!

Specify if you want them to read out one of a certain subject!

His smirk was a fondly-formed thing, when he flipped to a page in his leather-bound journal that documented a somewhat troublesome time he’d had with Eve. It was a memory that proved just how difficult his now-fiancée could be. The recollection was funny to him, now, but he’d had to be highly persisting to get her to comply with him, at the time.

Evela gasped when Rowan unexpectedly changed shape and flew from the crevice in the form of a swarm of bats. Her first instinct was to recoil, more out of surprise than actual fear–who was she to judge a shifter?–but with her back pressed against the wall, she could do little more than thunk the back of head against the stone. When he offered an outstretched hand to her, she accepted it gratefully, eager to escape to somewhere she could move around as freely as she wished. She took a brief moment to stretch her arms, relishing in the ability to take up more space, then cast a glance in Rowan’s direction, studying the vampire for a moment. “What do we do now?”

She supposed it would make sense to gather larger reinforcements, then return; the vampire had already made it clear that he intended to put an end to the werewolves, one way or another. Neither Viveka nor her brother struck Evela as the sort who would sooner fight until their dying breath than surrender. If it was to come to battles, then so be it, but Rowan was far more experienced in that respect that the wolf girl could ever be.

{{ X }}

Taking note of Eve’s surprise, Rowan had to wonder if his unnatural display had shocked her too starkly -- perhaps he should have unveiled that little particular ability to her a time before? -- but when she took hold of the outreach of his hand, he knew her faith and trust in him had not irreversibly faltered. 

The vampire lord scanned his surroundings, eyes aglow with their cerise, timeless brilliance in the questionable obscurity of the cave. He knew not what possible dangers lay ahead of him and his huntress friend, but it was his hope that whatever perils lurked amidst the dark were, at least in part, less harrowing than their bloodthirsty lycanthrope pursuers. 

“We keep moving,” he answered in low-toned eventuality. “The way back is no longer an option with those brutes nipping at our heels. It is now that we must face whatever dwells here... and tread with utmost caution as we go.”

Evela could not prevent the smile that spread slowly across her face, softening her expression, nor could she stop herself from leaning forward and pressing a slow, tender kiss to her lover’s lips. She didn’t immediately release his wrists, not for a few heartbeats, though when she did, they moved to cup his face in her hands, her fingers gliding across his ivory skin. The familiarity of his lips against hers, the unhurried pace of the kiss, as if the world had paused to allow them a moment in each other’s arms or that neither possessed obligations beyond lying in bed, brought a soft, content hum from her throat.

“Why am I not surprised that that is the thing you love about me?” she said half-jokingly, pulling away just far enough so her words wouldn’t become lost against his mouth. “You do realize that was probably the reason I was single, don’t you?” The words weren’t spoken with any trace of scorn or shame; she wasn’t upset over the fact that Rowan was one of few who displayed any interest in her, nor was it disconcerting that he was the only one to stick around long enough for a lasting relationship, much less one that lasted long enough to result in marriage. She knew she would find someone who would either learn to love her for her nature or accept it enough not to let it bother them, though she hadn’t expected it to happen so soon in her life.

{{ Continued from here }}

It took a bit of effort for him not to focus on the fact that she was sitting to rest on his lower body as they peppered each other with affection. The way she traced his cheeks, holding his face in her hands in such tender veneration, caused a small eruption of amorousness to go off inside him and spread all the way throughout his every cell and vein. Now free, he reached around and trailed his hand up the subtle ridges of her spine, weaving his fingers through the black of her hair once they reached her neck.

“I am what I am,” he drawled near her lips, speaking slowly to her. “And you are... what you are.” The Gael tugged but a fraction more than gently on her soft bottom lip with a fang, and the much smaller one below it. He let her go shortly in order to continue. “Ferocious beasts, the two of us... we fit quite well together, don’t you agree?”

At her questioning, Rowan’s chest was filled with a deep, vigorous chuckle.

“Is it wrong of me to take pride in the knowledge that I am the only one around who can handle your savage ways, mo chridhe?” His thumb found the side of her jaw, nail drawing slowly down the supple flesh of it with its sharpness as he held her gaze from below. It was done with just enough force to break the skin. “Indeed, I relish them.” 

From the scratch, a single bead of glistening blood was borne. He drew his thumb away from his minuscule handiwork to his mouth, and with his tongue tip, he licked it clean.