DRAGON HEART

#𝐕𝐕𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐄𝐍 / 𝑇𝐻𝐸 𝑆𝐴𝑉𝐴𝐺𝐸 𝑆𝐼𝐷𝐸 𝑂𝐹 𝑀𝐸. a roleplay blog for an oc from the elder scrolls. multi-verse and crossover friendly.

That is all the permission Valvossa needs before wrapping her arms around the smaller woman and immediately engulfing her up in a tight, armoured hug.

Valvossa did not obtain her lycanthropy willingly and takes extreme offence to the implication she did.

She was attacked in her birth-city of Blacklight by an infected traveler from Skyrim, subsequently leading to the death of her mother (of whom was assassinated in truth, but Valvossa assumes her death is related to the Incident) and her father Tervayn to move them to Solstheim, away from the city.

Similarly, she avoids the company of other werewolves with few exceptions* as she often finds herself not agreeing with their opinions and views of worship. She sees lycanthropy as a wretched curse and goes to great lengths to hide it from others.

*Valvossa encountered the Frostmoon Pack of Solstheim when she was fourteen, and they took pity on her and taught her how to control her lycanthropy.

The people who know of her condition are few and they almost never find out from any confession on Valvossa's part, rather she eventually slips up and they figure it out.

She had an uncanny penchant to notice when she was being followed, even without actively noticing. Was it her nose, her ears... Or did a Nightingale of Nocturnal just know these things? Regardless of the truth, it was the reason she was not terribly surprised upon hearing the crunch of footsteps on the brush.

Honestly, it seemed as time went by that a night without being followed at some point was more the rarity, anyways.

Valvossa turned to face the voice, finding herself near face to face with a vampire. The coloring of the eyes was curious, but there was no mistaking him for anything else. If the teeth didn't give him away, it was the tone of his voice. Predatory and snooty.

“Yeah, good luck getting your fangs through this, buddy.”

She took a step back, one hand falling to the hilt of her sword. Even with a helmet veiling her face, her eyes seemed to ask: What else am I supposed to think here? She wasn't going to be caught surprised at any ill intent. And the intent of a vampire approaching a lone stranger at night spelled anything but.

"Next time, I'm going to have to get two."

“Well yeah, you're a dragon, you s'wit.”

Valvossa snorted, amusing herself with the mental image of the dov perusing the Riften markets for some booze. Where would she store the septims?

Thoughtfully, she scratched her chin. Then grinned.

SNFSNFSNFFSNFFNSFF

"Bruniik kendov. Who did you kill and why are their insides all over your boots?"

Naturally, her entire body seizes up upon the close approach of a dragon; it was scarcely a feeling you grew used to, even when you knew the dovah. But she has conversed with them before, and beyond the brief rigidity hidden beneath her armor, she forces herself stoic and still and unthreatened. There was no showing fear. Least, not if you wanted them to respect you. Dragons did not fear anything.

This wasn't the first time Valvossa had come across this unknown woman. Consequently, it always seemed to be when she was on the job and actively up to no good. Suspicion had shifted into curiosity now; earlier in the dusk, one of the city's guards had been infuriatingly in the way.. Until the mysterious She had distracted him with conversation, leaving the little thief a window of opportunity to slip by at last.

The young dunmer balanced her weight nervously on her toes as she approached the woman after her job had gone through, lingering close to the corner of the wall. Clearly, she was still a little suspicious.