#vagr

Traffic streaked past in the damp, cold downpour just outside the awning Ashveil had swept the two under, arms around Elio as he kept the smaller man close. Huffing a breath, the detective smiled impishly as he pushed back the seer’s hood slightly, humming contently as he nuzzled into that curly mop of snowy hair. And as usual, the fragrance of sweet strawberries filled his nostrils, a swell of adoration warming the detective’s chest. 

Having the Stellaron Hunters aboard the Express was a novelty Dan Heng was still acclimating to, his guard was lowering day by day, and he was starting to enjoy it in some ways. With two chairs pulled up to one of the holographic consoles Dan Heng typically worked from, it was the illustrious leader of the Stellaron Hunters who shared one of those chairs; the white-haired man had supplied him with countless leads to answers he might not have found on his own.

“ some whitecoat sot with a steadier hand than that of his mate, i'll grant him, ” edward grimaces as he attempts to peel his coat away from his bloodied shoulder. it had been a rare, ill-footed moment, ending in an uneven 1-v-5 and a sniper perched up high. “ musket ball, straight through. chap would've had a finer tale to tell had he aimed lower, ” despite the pain that won't abide, he chuckles under his breath, head bowing forward as if he were about to be sick.

“ hurts like the bleedin' devil, but nothin' a quick kip won't fix... ” he pauses then, glancing at zoren as if struck by a swift realisation. his crew were sound lads, but they had been more concerned with where to get their next tumble than the state of their dear ol' captain. “ don't tell me you're worried about me now? ” @vagr.

Stinky and Smelly

@vagr

❝ Oh? ❞

The sensation of blood running down his lip became known to him - warm against his cool skin. His tongue snaked out to capture it, only smearing it in the process. The crimson was stark against his pale complexion, almost appearing black under the dim moonlight.

His blinks came slow, movements languid as he licked at his blood coated talons. He'd made quite the mess. Though only a small amount dribbled from his chin, the rest was splattered across his hands and leathers. Glowing eyes peered back at the other, intense but almost dulled by his clear intoxication. The comment made him briefly look over himself, unalarmed by the gore soaking his jerkin.

                    a comprehensive list of scenarios

@vordur/@vagr (kaidan) RELAX  :  for  both  muses  to  share  a  hot  spring.

it's  like  a  getaway  to  esmeltaran;   she   &  her  family  used  to  vacation  there  years  ago,  &   the  hot  springs  were  positively  divine  in  winter  –  or  so  she'd  thought.  sinking  into  the  burbling  pool  here  &  now,  on  the  heels  of  rather  tedious  travel  –  with  actual  aches   &  pains  to  soothe   –  it  far  outstrips  even  her  best  memories. 

alara  can't  help  the  pleasurable  groan  that  escapes;  this  is  the  only  way  she  wants  to  sweat  ever  again.  

&  the  view. 

she  opens  her  eyes  to  take  it  all  in. 

much  as  she'd  love  to  see  signs  of  civilisation  dot  the  horizon,  she  has  to  agree  with, presumably,  the  druids  &  other  nature  freaks  on  this  one:  that  the  wide  expanse  of  the  sky  beats  the  esmeltaran  shoreline  crowded  with  boutiques  &  tourists.  it's  not  quite  dark  yet,  but  night  approaches,  &  she  can  just  imagine  the  spray  of  stars  waiting  to  be  revealed  overhead.

...Did they really look so sulky?

At the bar in the Silver-Blood Inn, perched on a stool, a goblet of spiced wine in hand, it wasn't unusual to be approached. As one of Calcemo's apprentices alongside his nephew, many people had long since become familiar with Sypha and had encountered them either in Understone Keep or somewhere in the city proper. Though not a small village like Riverwood, there were enough denizens outside of the many adventurers and merchants who traveled across Skyrim to have built up some sense of familiarity. In most cases, however, most came with questions regarding the Dwemer, and a little rarer, about sorcery. Was this odd trinket they'd found worth something? Was it cursed? Was an old heirloom passed down for generations worth enough coin to buy a barrelful of Skooma? Odd, but not unusual.

That day, Sypha could admit they'd felt a little dispirited that a recent excavation had done little except trigger an enraged Centurion that had attempted to kill them, the ensuing battle decimating part of the ruins they'd been exploring. Master Calcemo had been wrathful, to put it lightly, even if it hadn't been their fault... Not entirely, at least.

-Vagr: goddess of drowning deaths and lost ships