shadows guide you

Donni was lying in bed. He couldn’t  feel his legs. His precious, precious legs. The things that gave him life. The things that allowed him to travel. Traveling was his lifes one biggest joy, and now..

He had been fighting with Fareen, like they usually did. Except this time it was a little more heated than usual. She pushed him. He lost his footing.

Donni remembered hitting the pile of rocks at the bottom of the ravine. He remembered hearing a loud crack. But everything after that was a blur.

They told him that they had tried to heal him up, but his spinal chord was damaged. He would never walk again. He would never see what lay beyond Tamriel. His lifes dream.. Destroyed.

Fareen was sitting next to his bed. She kept saying that she didn’t mean for it to happen. He held back the tears that were threatening to break loose to smile up at her. “It wasn’t your fault, dear. Please… Don’t blame yourself..”

He wiped his eyes with his forearm and sniffled. “Please.. Fareen. Promise me you will travel the world for me. Leave Tamriel for me… Then come back one day and tell me stories of the other lands out there. Please.. I want to know what they’re like”

Years passed. Fareen kept her promise. She traveled. She wrote volumes of stories of her adventures in far away continents. The day came where she had returned to Tamriel. To Skyrim.

But Donovans home near Markarth was empty. Dust gathered on the floor and the walls, once adorned with beautiful paintings, hung bare.

There was a grave outside. The simple headstone just read “Donovan”

Fareen tracked down his old care-taker years later. She said that he had sat by his window every day, waiting for his friend to return. But he was like a caged songbird. Every day the happiness drained more and more from his eyes, until there was nothing but a window into a broken soul.

The priests couldn’t figure out how or why he died. He was healthy, by all accounts.He shouldn’t have died.They buried him next to his home, because they said he didn’t have a family or friends to take his ashes to Morrowind. Only the people in attendance at his funeral was the customary priest of Arkay and his care-taker.

The care-taker said she knew how he died. She knew it all along.

She asked to purchase the home. She tried redecorating, putting pictures where there once were and making his favorite foods. She collected all the love letters she wrote but never sent, all the letters she did and all the ones she got back and she read them and cherished them.

His grave received flowers every day. The lone Nightingale often rested next to it or on it, crying or talking as if somehow he could hear her. She wished she could go to Sovngarde a second time, and see him, embrace him.

But he was gone. The hole in her heart could never be filled after that. Her passion for Nocturnal arts diminished, and the Trinity was broken. Brynjolf and Karliah long passed by the time Fareen was in her thirties, growing weak from disuse of muscles.

She retreated indoors, only leaving once or twice a day to put fresh-grown flowers on his grave. Every day she talked to his grave, telling him of old adventures and telling him of how the thought of seeing him when she got home drove her through hard times.

When she was forty two she suffered a heart attack, and she didn’t know how she survived. She didn’t want to hire a helper, for the pride got the best of her. As her last days began to draw near she ceased eating and drinking and on the last, she made her way to his grave and lay her head in the dirt.

They say the last Nightingale had travelled the entire world and yet turned away from it all to return to a friend who she visited too late, a friend she was unable to comfort, a friend who could not go with her because of her own mistakes and so from then, she was afraid to make one.

They say the last Nightingale wasn’t made cold by the Skyrim winter or by the frigid northern seas. No, she wasn’t cold at all. She was Lucifer, trapped in her cage of ice, burning and begging to be set free to show the warmth of her love to a man who would never feel the faintest touch of her skin on his again.

Donni was lying in bed. He couldn’t  feel his legs. His precious, precious legs. The things that gave him life. The things that allowed him to travel. Traveling was his lifes one biggest joy, and now..

He had been fighting with Fareen, like they usually did. Except this time it was a little more heated than usual. She pushed him. He lost his footing.

Donni remembered hitting the pile of rocks at the bottom of the ravine. He remembered hearing a loud crack. But everything after that was a blur.

They told him that they had tried to heal him up, but his spinal chord was damaged. He would never walk again. He would never see what lay beyond Tamriel. His lifes dream.. Destroyed.

Fareen was sitting next to his bed. She kept saying that she didn’t mean for it to happen. He held back the tears that were threatening to break loose to smile up at her. “It wasn’t your fault, dear. Please… Don’t blame yourself..”

He wiped his eyes with his forearm and sniffled. “Please.. Fareen. Promise me you will travel the world for me. Leave Tamriel for me… Then come back one day and tell me stories of the other lands out there. Please.. I want to know what they’re like”

Years passed. Fareen kept her promise. She traveled. She wrote volumes of stories of her adventures in far away continents. The day came where she had returned to Tamriel. To Skyrim.

But Donovans home near Markarth was empty. Dust gathered on the floor and the walls, once adorned with beautiful paintings, hung bare.

There was a grave outside. The simple headstone just read “Donovan”

Fareen tracked down his old care-taker years later. She said that he had sat by his window every day, waiting for his friend to return. But he was like a caged songbird. Every day the happiness drained more and more from his eyes, until there was nothing but a window into a broken soul.

The priests couldn’t figure out how or why he died. He was healthy, by all accounts.He shouldn’t have died.They buried him next to his home, because they said he didn’t have a family or friends to take his ashes to Morrowind. Only the people in attendance at his funeral was the customary priest of Arkay and his care-taker.

The care-taker said she knew how he died. She knew it all along.

She asked to purchase the home. She tried redecorating, putting pictures where there once were and making his favorite foods. She collected all the love letters she wrote but never sent, all the letters she did and all the ones she got back and she read them and cherished them.

His grave received flowers every day. The lone Nightingale often rested next to it or on it, crying or talking as if somehow he could hear her. She wished she could go to Sovngarde a second time, and see him, embrace him.

But he was gone. The hole in her heart could never be filled after that. Her passion for Nocturnal arts diminished, and the Trinity was broken. Brynjolf and Karliah long passed by the time Fareen was in her thirties, growing weak from disuse of muscles.

She retreated indoors, only leaving once or twice a day to put fresh-grown flowers on his grave. Every day she talked to his grave, telling him of old adventures and telling him of how the thought of seeing him when she got home drove her through hard times.

When she was forty two she suffered a heart attack, and she didn’t know how she survived. She didn’t want to hire a helper, for the pride got the best of her. As her last days began to draw near she ceased eating and drinking and on the last, she made her way to his grave and lay her head in the dirt.

Send ღ for a crush my muse has had.

There was a Bosmer woman named Fareen. She’s the only person Donni has truly loved. She was a Nightingale and he met her when she was trying to rob him. After that they were inseparable, and Donni slowly fell deeply in love with her. He even considered asking her to marry him so they could settle down and have a family. Sadly, one day she left to do a thieving job and never came back. He still searches for her. He’s checked every prison in Skyrim but with no luck.

Send ✿ for a happy memory.

One time he bought his friend Avessa books because she had told him she wasn’t allowed to read back in her home. The look on her face is something that will never leave him.

Send ☂ for a weather headcanon.

He loves cloudy weather.

Ha ha I got tagged by 2 people ( venenum-in-deos and darkbrotherhoodinitiate . I love you guys.

Hey.

I know I could just text you

But