I HAVE A DRAGON'S HEART.

    He recoiled at that, as if he’d been burned, blinking rapidly as pain registered upon his face. “I… I tell you everything,” he softed. Were… Were they not friends? Did she not share in those feelings? He backed away a bit as the hurt worsened, becoming a ball of pain in his chest he couldn’t untangle. But hurt swiftly turned to anger. “I trusted you with everything! But you’ve lied to me all this time! I get that this isn’t something you’d just tell anyone but…”

    You’re my best friend, Val.

    He wanted to say it, but, for whatever reason, he couldn’t bring himself to do so. He’d thought he wasn’t just anyone. He’d thought he’d meant more to her than that. But… he was wrong. And that hurt more than any wound her claws could ever inflict.

    “I just… You could have trusted me! Did you think I’d hate you? Did you think I’d tell everyone? Come on, Val, you know me better than that!”

    He was afraid, it was true. Of course he was afraid. But that was mostly due to the fact that this had come as a complete shock. He’d seen her transform, tear into the Silver Hand as if they were made of little more than paper, and even feast upon their intestines before he’d the sense to run. How was that not terrifying? What did she expect when she did not prepare him?

    “I could have handled it. But this…? This is… I don’t know, you scared the shit out of me, Val!” He hadn’t known if she was in control or if she was going to turn on him next. He had no way of knowing. As far as he knew, werewolves became mindless beasts upon transformation. Clearly, that was not the case, at least not for her, but at the time, he hadn’t known. He couldn’t have known.

     “Look, you mean a lot to me, okay? That wouldn’t have changed if you’d been honest with me from the start. It’s not going to change now. I don’t know how this came about or what made you go down this path, but it doesn’t matter to me either way. Okay? I just… I thought you knew you could trust me.”

      her jaw clenches, expression as steely as the second before in spite of teldryn’s hurt. it was a harsh thing to say, she knows that, and he’s still her closest friend, but--

nothing is enough to make her ever feel comfortable with this. not him, and not anyone before who found out, either. ( not even brynjolf with all his suaveness and charm was enough to make her feel at ease with it. )

      ❛ you don’t get it. ❜

she steps backward, crouching down to lift hellfire where she had dropped it so she may sheathe it back into her belt. her head is turned away.

    ❛ this isn’t the same as the sort of fucking tragic secret you’re thinking, like if i was actually a member of the tong, or something, or if i was really dunmer royalty the whole time. ❜     if only it was that simple and cutesy, not involving her transforming into a terrible beast to rip flesh from bone and devour it. trust has nothing to do with this secret.

while her stare had been hard before, it immediately sours into a glower with his last few words, and she almost visibly tenses as she whips her head back toward him, locking their stares. how dare he say that to her? how dare he imply this was anything even close to a choice?

      ❛ what made me go down this path? ❜     valvossa hisses, the sheer hostility in her tone uncharacteristic of her normal friendliness.     ❛ you-- ❜

it’s been a long time since she’s felt such genuine anger and hurt, and while she knows he hadn’t intended on prodding the wound, her eyes sting regardless. gods, she hates being angry like this. not only because of the wolf, the ugliness of it, but because she can never manage it without crying.

     clawed fingers reach to lift the helmet from the floor of the dusty crypt, fitting it back on her head just as her expression begins to melt into a sneer.

    ❛ you think you’re obligated to know me? ❜     it comes out more venomous than she intended; this affliction was always an exceedingly sore spot of hers, not that she’d expect him to know as much. 

it’s upsetting-- being told she’s to blame for this. as if she had to tell him, or anyone else. val bristles, and she doesn’t want anything to do with this attempt at an apology. 

    it’s a harsh thing for someone like her to say to someone so young, but she would know better than anyone as to how cruel life can be. she can’t tell daro’hana that it gets easier, or better, because it doesn’t.

she crouches down, resting a gentle hand on the khajiit’s shoulder.

       ❛ sometimes, bad things happen and there isn’t anything we can do to stop it. ❜

don’t make the mistake of beating yourself up over it. there isn’t a point lamenting things you wish you could have changed, when you can’t.

    ❛ this isn’t your fault. ❜     she isn’t good at this-- consolation, serious and complicated emotions. it’s easier to shrug and laugh most things off, but there are some things that are never any less painful, and not everything has a bright side.

     With a confident smirk, he immediately raised the bottle, taking a breath before chugging it as quickly as he could manage. Honningbrew mead wasn’t as kind to his tongue as Blackbriar, but he hardly noticed with how fast the liquid splashed its way down his throat.

     He’d been drinking for far longer than she, probably a great deal more often, too. He’d even been a professional drunkard for a number of years. As much as he hated nord mead, he’d downed the swill more times than he could count. There weren’t many options in Windhelm, after all. Back then, he’d take whatever he could get his hands on. Not the happiest time in his life, but he supposed it served him well enough now.

     The instant the last drop of burning liquid left the bottle, he swallowed and slammed the bottle down on the table with a solid ‘thunk’.

     make that two thuds on the table, as both bottles meet the wood down to the same second.

initially, she most definitely had underestimated him-- but no-one can really blame you if you spent the better part of the last decade engaging in what feels like nightly drinking contests underneath skyrim’s most favorite brewery. 

for a split second, she looks surprised, though the stun fades away to a wide grin.

    “So long as I get to come along, I don’t much care what we do there,” he replied. He didn’t want to admit just how much he’d missed their adventures, how much he’d missed her, but his excitement at her return alone was evidence enough.

    Turning away from her, he gestured to the elf behind the counter. “Geldis! Look who’s back!”

    “Well, I’ll be damned,” Geldis Sadri whistled. “Been a while, Val. Good to see you’re still kickin’! What’ll it be? The usual?”

    “Make that two,” Teldryn answered for her, leaning leisurely upon the countertop.

     “Celebrating tonight, are we?”

     “You know it.”

      ❛ i imagine you’re probably dying to get away from the cold, given how sensitive you are. ❜     playful ribbing or no, it would be nice to have some company when she goes... and besides, she hasn’t seen teldryn in what feels like too long.

the slightest red tinges her cheeks as teldryn all but announces her return, and her smile softens.

          He sputtered, hand to his heart, feigning offense.

         “Hey, now, I didn’t know this was a competition! I was enjoying the flavor! But if you want to go, let’s go–” he held the next bottle aloft, Honningbrew this time. “We’ve got one bottle left, each. Whoever loses buys the next round—unless you’ve got more of this stuff in that bottomless pack of yours. In which case, I fully expect you to raise the stakes.”

      ❛ bring it on, sero. ❜ 

poor fool really doesn’t know who he’s dealing with if he thinks he can out-drink someone whose spent a majority of their most important years in skyrim, of all places... let alone a member of the thieves’ guild.

the water in the cistern may as well run with mead, given how often they drink the stuff. val’s smile betrays nothing of this ‘talent’ of hers, not until they start.

       Teldryn snorted, quietly slapping at Valvossa’s arm to get her to hush up before she drew attention to them both. She wasn’t the only person laughing in the club, but she certainly was the loudest.

        “Put it out! Put it out!” Mogrul howled as he ran pell-mell through the cornerclub. Geldis gave chase with a mug of water in hand.

        “Hold still!” the innkeep demanded, but the panic-stricken Orc did not hear him. Fethis helpfully stuck out a leg, tripping Mogrul as he passed and allowing Geldis a chance to see to the flames before they got out of control. Several more people joined Val in her laughter while the Orc’s face grew red as a beet.

         “It’s not FUNNY!” he shouted, looking like an overgrown and petulant child with the way he slammed his fist down on the floor. This only seemed to send everyone into further hysterics. “Someone tried to kill me and you’re all sitting there laughing!”

         “If someone was going to try to kill you, you’d think they’d do a better job,” Teldryn muttered, his smile threatening to grow even wider.

         Apparently, he was a little too loud, or the Orc had superhuman hearing, because he snapped, “What was that?!”

         The mercenary waved him off with a nonchalant hand, shaking his head. “I didn’t say anything.”

      her shoulders shake with her barely contained efforts, the laughing falling into a sharp cough, if only to attempt to mask it. wah, wah, someone tried to killll meeeee, mogrul whines, and valvossa can nearly feel her eyes roll into the very back of her skull.

though teldryn waves him off, it seems slitter certainly doesn’t miss her wolfish grin, and the bodyguard scowls, stomping forward to confront not teldryn, but her-- 

( perhaps because of the lack of her armor. after all, it’s difficult for her to look quite intimidating without looking like a daedra in dunmer flesh. )

      “ you! ” he hisses, confrontational. “ it was you, wasn’t it? one of you two. ”     the tone to his voice speaks the rest clear as day; you two are always causing trouble.

undeterred, however, valvossa speaks before teldryn can, loud and blatantly not intimidated.

             “Yes!” he said, doing a small, but enthusiastic fist pump. “I can’t wait to see some warmer weather. I’m surprised I haven’t frozen over living up here for so long.” 

              He knocked on her pauldron, the sound of fingers on metal ringing in his ears. Had she not been so sharp and pointy, he might have given her shoulder a playful punch. “Let me buy you a drink, eh? You can tell me all about what’s happened since I left you back in Riften. Or, if that’s too hush-hush, then we can talk about something else.” He didn’t really care what they talked about, so long as they did some catching up. It had been months since they’d last seen each other. Far too long, in his opinion.

         ❛ the cold is grating on me, too. i could sorely use a vacation, and haafingar isn’t warm enough for me. ❜     albeit, the cold bothers her much less so, given her supernatural afflictions. yet even then, it’s hard to block out the cold of the coldest place in tamriel.

                  ❛ found you, sneak-thief. ❜