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The Companions - The Circle - Kodlak Whitemane, Vilkas, Skjor, Aela the Huntress, Farkas © The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim

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(Contains: nudity)
Vilkas and Mia
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He kinda reminds me of Aragorn
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Fandom: Skyrim
Pairing: Ondolemar x Male Bosmer OC

My dearest Ryndoril,

Words can never be enough to express the depth of my

Ondolemar growled at himself in anger, ripping the paper from the pile in front of him and crumpling it to a ball. A quick flame spell in his palm turned it to ash. Pathetic, he thought to himself. What a ridiculous attempt. If he were any more cliché, it’d be a miracle.

He was trying to write a letter to Ryndoril; he didn’t have a particular reason, but he simply wanted to. The Bosmer had been gone for several days, and Ondolemar missed him; what better time to write a romantic letter to the wood elf? It was, after all, something many did when courting another, and knowing the Bosmer as well as he did, it was sure to make him smile.

Now if only he could make it sound like something sensible, and not something an idiot juvenile would write!


I miss you.

Are you kidding me? Ondolemar thought contemptuously, turning this page to ash as well. What kind of sorry excuse for romance was that? I miss you?

He rolled his eyes at himself, trying to think of some romantic lines he’d heard of or read in books.

Your lips are like

What? What were the Bosmer’s lips like? They were like lips, for Auri-El’s sake! His hand was starting to blacken a little from the ash now.

I count the minutes until I see your beautiful face again.

Ondolemar read that line a couple of times; it was decent, anyway. Better than anything else he’d come up with. Then again, as he thought about it, the more ridiculous it sounded. Who would actually sit and count off minutes until their lover returned?

Snorting in disgust at himself, he burned this paper to embers as well. Realizing he wasn’t getting anywhere, he stood up, beginning to pace back and forth in his room, glad his guards hadn’t bothered to disturb him this evening. He tried again to think of something romantic to make the Bosmer smile.

I like being near you.

Well, that much was obvious, Ondolemar shook his head angrily. He was far more eloquent than that; surely he could do better.

Your presence brings me joy

Joy? Perhaps it was true, but that was certainly never a term he wanted associated with himself. Far too…excited. Bubbly.

Like Ryndoril, he thought with a smirk. If there was one word to describe the Bosmer, it would most certainly be joyful. Hmm…

Your joyful nature brings me joy

Oh, there he went again! Ondolemar growled low in his throat at himself, seriously annoyed now. That sentence barely even made sense. It sounded stupid. He was being stupid. This should not be so difficult. He’d read poetry; he enjoyed poetry, Divines’ sake. Why couldn’t this work?

Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?

It was the beginning to one of his favorite poems, actually; but it had been written by someone from Summerset, not Skyrim. What would anyone stuck in this cold place know about a proper summer’s day anyway?

And besides, he told himself, Ryndoril is not a season, or even a fleeting day in one! To be enjoyed then quickly forgotten – no. That would never do. An idea came to him then, all at once, and he excitedly sat down to put pen to paper with the thought.

Thy sweet love remembered such wealth brings, that then I scorn to change my state with kings.

It was another line from a poem he had enjoyed; never having felt this way about anyone else before, he’d not related to it so well, but now he could certainly see its appeal. But as deeply as he felt for the Bosmer, it was not love – certainly not. One could not fall in love so quickly, and to claim as much was childish.

And in any case, he thought smugly, it was quite ridiculous to suggest he wouldn’t give up the Bosmer for wealth and power; he would never need to. A superiorly-bred Altmer could have both, and never think twice about it. Fine, he sneered at himself. If you’re going to make it sound ridiculous, then come up with something better! Crumpling up this page as well, he set fire to it without a thought, causing more ash to pile next to him and coat his hand.

When you are not with me, I feel

Angry, he finished in his head. Clearly. Some romantic letter that made. The new piece of paper joined the rest in a pile of ash.

He dragged the inked pen over the clean sheet of paper in front of him; ash marred the surface, but he was simply scratching out nothing in particular in order to clear his head and calm himself down. He had enough to annoy him daily; why was he bothering to put himself through this if it was going to simply make him angry?

For Ryn, a voice in his head murmured, conjuring up a picture of the Bosmer’s laughing face along with it. Everything about him softened at remembering Ryndoril’s smile; a small smile of his own even graced his lips. Of course. For Ryn. The precious Bosmer who had turned his world around, who could calm him with a simple smile, could please him with a simple touch. The Bosmer who meant more to him than anyone ever had since he’d lost his brother.

So then why couldn’t he put it into words? He thought in frustration. He was a well-educated, well-read, eloquently-spoken Altmer. What was the matter with him?

You are my respite from the drudgery of my work. Too depressing.

I see you and my heart fills with joy. There was that stupid word again, joy. Why was it even a word anyway?

You are the mer that I have chosen. Well, didn’t that sound formal and boring and obvious!

Why don’t you simply fall at my feet and be done with it?

“Oh, yes, Ondolemar, well done. Very romantic,” he muttered to himself. Another growl, another burnt paper.

After several more failed attempts and subsequent burnt papers – one of which he’d dropped too quickly and singed his desk with – he put his head in his hands, groaning to himself. This was stupid.

“Hey, love.” Ryndoril’s voice surprised Ondolemar, causing him to jerk his head up and look around; the Bosmer was standing by his door, a grin on his face that grew wider when Ondolemar looked.

“Ryn,” Ondolemar said, the smallest of smiles coming to his own face. Well, that was the problem, he realized upon seeing the Bosmer again. No words could possibly do the mer justice. Of course he couldn’t come up with anything to write to him. “Back again?”

“For a bit,” Ryndoril nodded, walking over to the desk. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, of course I am,” Ondolemar said, disgruntled. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Just wondering what you burned to death here,” Ryndoril smiled, indicating the slightly large pile of ash by Ondolemar’s chair. “And about this,” he added, reaching over to wipe a bit of the ash from Ondolemar’s forehead. The Altmer glanced at his hand and then groaned – of course it was all over his face now, his hands were covered in the gray residue.

“It was nothing important,” Ondolemar said, reddening a little. “Have you taken care of your business?”

“I have,” Ryndoril smiled, leaning down to kiss the Altmer. Ondolemar kissed him back, his heart full again. “Though I couldn’t track down who wanted your amulet. The request was sent by letter, not in person. I’m sorry.” Ondolemar frowned.

“That’s alright,” he said, knowing the Bosmer couldn’t do anything more about it. “As you have assured me I no longer have to worry about thieves, I suppose that will do. Thank you.”

“Of course,” Ryndoril said, lowering himself onto Ondolemar’s lap. The Altmer chuckled.

“By all means, make yourself at home,” he said teasingly to the Bosmer. Ryndoril grinned.

“I always am when I’m with you,” Ryndoril informed him, placing another gentle kiss on the Altmer’s cheek. Ondolemar found himself frustrated again; it was so simple, such a natural thing to say, and Ryndoril had come out with it with no problem. Why couldn’t he do that? “What’s the matter, love? Tell me.”

“Nothing,” Ondolemar insisted, wrapping his arms around the Bosmer. “I’m just…glad you’re home.” There. That was good enough, right?

“Me too,” Ryndoril grinned, his eyes lighting up at Ondolemar’s statement. The Altmer smiled back; yes, that had done it. “So…you want a distraction from whatever’s got you so annoyed?” Ryndoril asked cheekily.

“And how do you know I was annoyed?” Ondolemar asked. “I am perfectly fine.”

“Because I know you,” Ryndoril laughed, threading his fingers in the Altmer’s hair. “You don’t have to tell me. I just prefer you to be happy.”

“You make me happy,” Ondolemar said quickly, before he could stop himself saying the words. Ryndoril stared at him, obviously pleased, and Ondolemar let out a breath, slowing down. “You do, Ryn. You make me very happy. I’m glad to see you.” Ryndoril laughed again, delighted, and captured the Altmer’s lips with his own.

“Then I think a distraction is definitely in order,” Ryndoril grinned, his eyes sparkling. Ondolemar didn’t have any inclination to disagree with the Bosmer’s plan.

Ondolemar tries to get romantic, but finds he isn't all that great at it.

Oh, Ondolemar, you poor, in-denial mer. "not in love", suuuuureee... (it takes him a REMARKABLY long time to come to that conclusion himself, by the way...)

This one's quite short for my standards, just a quick little thing I had fun with, I hope you liked it :) It is a bit sappy, but it IS still kind of the honeymoon phase, and poor Ondolemar's never been in love before. He copes with it how he can =P

Previously:… (mature)
Next: in progress!

Bethesda owns Skyrim, I do not. Also, the poem lines are from Shakespeare's sonnets, specifically numbers 18 and 29.
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(Contains: violence/gore)

Ch 5 - Dead Guys by Whisper292

Back at the inn, Kaawen finally lost herself and cried over the Silvenar’s death. Betath held her as she wept, stroking her hair and whispering to her soothingly. When her sobs finally subsided, he handed her a handkerchief with which to wipe her eyes. Then he bought her a tankard of mead.

She wasn’t feeling sociable, so after finishing her drink, she said goodnight and went to her room. She slept surprisingly well, exhausted after running back and forth across Mistral for two days, and the catharsis when she finally let go. Although she was still feeling the loss and probably would for some time to come, she was refreshed the next morning when Betath knocked on her door.

“No rest for the wicked,” he said. “I just spoke with Zaeri, one of Commander Karinith’s lieutenants. The Maormer have attacked Cat’s Eye Quay. We’re to report to the commander as soon as possible.” He handed her a plate with four pieces of bacon on it.

“Oh, you brought me breakfast! Thank you; I’ll be right down.” She closed the door and put on her armor, eating while she dressed, and then met Betath down in the tavern.

They made their way across town and found Commander Karinith near the docks. “Zaeri said the Maormer had attacked,” Betath told her. “She said you’re preparing a counterattack.”

The commander scoffed. “Counterattack? I’d settle for an organized defense. Our forces are scattered too thin, and we won’t be able to hold the gates.”

“What can we do to help?”

“I can’t lock down the gate until all the survivors are clear of the market on the quay, so send them my way. We need to get them on this side of the wall. Stop and gather some healing supplies before you go. There will be injured.”

“Will do.”

They went to the quartermaster and obtained some bandages and potions, then went down to the docks and made their way to the causeway outside Cat’s Eye Quay, tending to wounded and instructing survivors to get out of the area so the commander could lock the gate. One of the survivors mentioned that Sergeant Firion was waiting just inside the gate, so they went on and met up with her and Gathwen.

“I didn’t realize you two knew each other,” said Kaawen.

“We don’t, really,” said Firion. “We came to help and ended up together. What are you two doing here?”

“We’re to help too. One of the survivors told us you were down here.”

“You feel that cold breeze? That’s just the way it was before the hurricane that started all this.”

“What can we do, Firion?” Betath asked.

“I sent my squad to scout the quay, but I haven’t heard back from them yet. I want to go look for them, and we can poke around while we’re at it. I’m sure our wizard friend here will want to come along.”

“Shouldn’t one of you hold the gate?”

“Others are coming to hold the gate,” she said, nodding to a handful of marines who were coming their way. “Let’s get in there and take care of this.”

“Gathwen?” Kaawen said, turning to the mage.

“I’m right behind you. I’m sure we’ll have to fight, and I can heal you.”

They entered the quay, which was in ruins. Boats were torn to pieces, barrels and crates burned, and houses and businesses were utterly destroyed. And Sea Vipers were everywhere. It was a good thing Gathwen was on hand. Not only did she heal them; she was pretty good at casting destructive spells, as well.

Kaawen marveled at watching Betath fight. He wasn’t your typical high elf; he had a mischievous streak and an élan that most Altmer would have turned their noses up at. But in a situation like this, he was a stone-cold killer with no compunctions about sending the Maormer to their deaths. She got a close look at his face once when they were fighting, and the jovial expression had melted, revealing something darker, something hard. The mischief still broke through on occasion, and he had a penchant for whacking his enemies with his staff and, with a carefully placed spell, sending them flying into unusual places. He lobbed two of the Maormer completely off the docks and piled them atop a large rock that jutted out of the water about twenty feet offshore. And he never batted an eye. It was a little disconcerting, but she also felt a strange sense of comfort over it. She could take care of herself and was never afraid of dangerous situations, but nevertheless, she felt a little safer with Betath fighting at her side.

In a tavern half a mile onto the quay, they found Firion’s men, Edhelas and Onglorn. Edhelas was kneeling next to Onglorn, who was badly injured, covered in blood, and barely moving.

“What happened?” asked Firion as she knelt next to him.

“Squad got separated,” said Edhelas. “Nistel and I found Onglorn. They hurt him bad, carved runes into his skin. What kind of low-life rat does that?”

“Where is Nistel?”

“Hunting Sea Vipers. I didn’t want to leave Onglorn.”

“Let me see,” said Gathwen, stepping in. She looked the injured Bosmer over and then used her staff to cast healing magic over him. Not all, but many of the runes that had been carved into his skin began to vanish, and he breathed a sigh of relief.

“That’s much better,” he said.

“Did you learn what the Sea Vipers plan for Mistral?” Kaawen asked them.

“Not really,” said Edhelas. “I saw a lot of them near the other end of the quay, though.”

Firion rested a hand on Onglorn’s shoulder. “You two have done your part. Get back to Mistral when you can.”

“Take care, Sergeant,” said Onglorn.

They left the two marines in the tavern and continued up the beach, fighting Sea Vipers until they found Nistel in a shop. She hadn’t been as lucky as Onglorn and was already dead when they found her. Her body was badly damaged—slash marks, broken bones, even a few fang marks.

“Oh, Nistel,” Firion breathed, kneeling next to her and stroking her blood-matted hair. “I’ll avenge you, my friend.”

A bloodied piece of paper was clutched in the dead marine’s hand, and Sergeant Firion removed it and read, then handed it to Kaawen. It was a list of weaknesses and plans for taking the quay, including placing storm totems and initiating the tempest.

“There’s that word ‘tempest’ again,” she noted.

“Storm totems,” Betath mused.

“They’re going to cause another hurricane,” Gathwen suggested.

“Gods, I hope you’re wrong.”

“Let’s get this over with so I can take care of Nistel’s body,” said Firion.

They didn’t find anything of interest in the following buildings, and they went to check the mine at the end of the quay. The entrance was blocked by fallen rocks, and a Khajiit was cowering next to them.

“What happened?” Kaawen asked him.

“I was in the cave . . . working . . . when I heard a strange howling. Then warriors came out of nowhere, struck without mercy.”

“Who was it?”

“Sea Vipers, which made no sense because we had already paid protection and let them put their totems in our mine. They killed some and let the rest of us go; they were more interested in their totems. Then they collapsed the cave entrance.”

“Why did they do that?” Betath asked.

“Some high elf wizard tried to get in, so they collapsed it. I got out just in time. The wizard was trying to tell me something, but I was too disoriented to understand.”

“You should get to safety.”

“What’s that? My ears were ringing. Would you mind repeating the obvious?”

Kaawen couldn’t help chuckling.

“Don’t think me ungrateful. If it helps, the wizard was looking for another entrance to the caves. I’ve heard of a secret door by the cliffs, but I’ve never seen it myself. I’ll go now.”

The Khajiit ran up to the docks and across the quay, and they all stood silently, trying to figure their next move.

“I wonder,” Kaawen said after a minute. “In a shop by the cliffs, there was a trap door behind the counter. Any chance that’s the secret door he was talking about?”

“One way to find out,” Betath replied. “Show us.”

They went up to the beach and into the shop Kaawen had indicated. The lock on the trap door had been forced, and they opened it up and climbed cautiously down into the tunnel. When they came upon Ealcil, they knew they were in the right place. He was standing before two large statues in the shape of snake heads. Lightning sizzled between the statues.

“These totems harness a combination of wind and spirit,” he noted as the group gathered around him. He looked away from the totems and glared at them. “Excuse me, do you mind? Oh, it’s you. What are you doing here?”

“We’re here to stop the Sea Vipers,” Betath told him.

“I suppose that’s optimal. These Sea Viper rituals are barbaric, but quite effective. Their hurricane was nothing compared to their current efforts.”

“What’s worse than a hurricane?” Gathwen challenged him.

“You clearly haven’t studied the fundamentals of blood sacrifice.”

“Don’t tempt me,” she retorted, but he ignored her and continued.

“You see the serpent-shaped statues, their storm totems? They collect spirit energies from rune-marked subjects—”

“You mean people,” Kaawen threw in.

“Indeed. They collect their spirit energies and channel it, like water through a funnel.”

“Can we block the funnel?”

“Exactly the right question!” he exclaimed approvingly. “The Sea Vipers use a specialized lodestone to block the channel, and I was fortunate enough to get my hands on one. Approach an active totem, hold forth the lodestone, and harmlessly siphon the energy away.” He reached in his pocket and brought out a lodestone, handing it to her. “See for yourself.”

“You’re sure it’s harmless?” she asked taking the stone.

“Completely! Go ahead; don’t be shy. It’s not as though the totem’s energies will cascade through your body until you’re nothing but a lifeless, smoking husk. But do avoid standing in the puddles, will you?”

Gathwen grumbled insults behind her, but Kaawen turned toward the totems. She held the lodestone toward them and white light streamed outward, and after a moment the lightning fizzled out.

Ealcil applauded. “Phenomenal! I knew proximity was the key. And look at you, not even a hint of electrocution. You have the principle; apply it to the other totems before—well, best not to worry you about that.”

“Worry me about what?”

With a sigh, he said, “Well, I can’t say for certain. It’s one of two things, neither of which is good for anyone on this island. But you don’t stoop to blood sacrifice unless you need a lot of energy very quickly. And, well, to release it just as quickly.”

“You’re speaking in riddles,” Sergeant Firion grumbled. “What do you mean?”

“Listen, you handle the storm totems. I’ll determine how best to counteract the blood ritual without destroying Mistral. I shouldn’t need to tell you time is of the essence.”

“All right,” Kaawen relented. “We’ll do what you ask.”

They left him by the first totem and started making their way through the tunnels. “I can’t stand that man!” Gathwen snarled as they walked.

“Rather imperious, isn’t he?” Firion commented.

“You have no idea.”

As above, they had to fight their way through, and they had to stop and let Gathwen do some serious healing when Betath took a sword deep in his side after letting a Sea Viper get too close. Otherwise, she mended a few arrow wounds and burns. Betath used his club swing on one Maormer and left him propped against a very narrow shelf halfway up the cave wall, and Kaawen chuckled. “You seem to get very lucky with landing the Sea Vipers in interesting positions.”

“There’s no luck to it. I spent a lot of time perfecting that technique. My aim is very good.”

Ch 5 - Kaawen with Totem by Whisper292

They pressed onward, shutting down totems as they went. There were nearly a dozen of them, and Kaawen did the first few, finding out quickly that draining the energy from the totems also drained her energy. After that, they took turns.

They finally came to the last totem, and as it dropped, Kaawen could hear a voice in her head. “This is Ealcil, speaking directly to your mind.”

Which is terrifying, Kaawen thought to herself.

“Find my Psijic projection near the tunnel exit. I know how to stop the Maomer.”

They found the projection floating above the floor near the exit. Gathwen groaned and rolled her eyes, and Kaawen had to smile. She found it amusing, how much the Bosmer hated Ealcil. It was understandable, but humorous nonetheless. As for Kaawen, she didn’t mind Ealcil’s manner. She thought he was funny, a notion that would probably mortify him.

“What do you have for us, Ealcil?” Betath asked.

“Through my Psijic projection, I observed an old ritual site. Should be just outside this tunnel’s exit. The Sea Vipers have summoned a storm atronach and are funneling all their energy into the bound Storm-Slave. The creature will only hold so much energy before it explodes. All that energy will wash over Khenarthi’s Roost, killing anything it touches. Oh, and the mountain north of Mistral will shatter and leave no trace of the town.”

“Sweet Y’ffre!” Kaawen gasped with horror. “How do we stop it?”

“Three ritual horns trap Storm-Slave, and they produce a gale that holds all his energy in place. But the lodestone you carry has absorbed enough storm energy to counteract the false winds.”

“And what happens when we release Storm-Slave?”

“He will shed his corporeal form and safely release his storm energy. Now, by ‘safely,’ I mean in relation to Khenarthi’s Roost. You’ll want to get as far away as you can, preferably with some solid rock between you. You should have no trouble, but in case you do, I’ve opened a portal at a distance of one league from Khenarthi’s Roost. I’ll tread water in the open sea until I’ve observed your success.”

“You’re all heart, Ealcil,” she muttered.

“Merely a precaution. I have every confidence!”

“Watch out for slaughterfish,” Gathwen quipped, and she held her staff toward the projection.

“Wait, what? I—”

But he didn’t finish. His projection vanished as Gathwen giggled, and they walked out the back exit of the mine and onto the ritual site. The site was vast, set into the beach right at the water’s edge, the parts not rising above the ground being partly submerged. The monstrous storm atronach stood on a central platform, which was crackling with energy. Three colossal horns were set into stone slings shaped like snake heads and placed at regular intervals around the platform. Wind, smoke, and lightning emanated from each of the horns toward the center. The scene was beautiful, if disturbing.

“Wow,” said Firion, “I wish Nistel could have seen that.”

“I’ve read about such things, but books don’t do it justice,” Gathwen whispered.

Kaawen remained silent, unable to express her thoughts as hear heart hammered in her chest.

Behind each horn was a Maomer wizard, floating in the air and bathed in blue light. Next to each wizard slithered a giant snake and several more Sea Vipers. They were in for a pitched battle.

“Well,” Betath quipped, “shall we get on with it? We wouldn’t want to keep our hosts waiting.”

Three times, they fought a handful of Maomer and a giant snake, then took the lodestone and disrupted the horns. Kaawen took the first horn, but her energy waned quickly and she grew too tired to help Betath disrupt the other horns. She managed to fight on, staying back and using only ranged attacks, but when they were at the last horn, the snake got close enough to bite and took a chunk out of her leg. The poison rushed through her veins, sapping her energy even more, and she bent over, gasping for air. The snake hissed at her, bringing her back instantly, and she darted backward, ignoring the pain and sending another arrow at the slithering reptile as Betath shot a lightning bolt at it from the other side.

Ch 5 - Betath with Horn by Whisper292

When the snake and all of the Maomer were dead, Betath leveled the lodestone at the third horn and released the energy. With a loud crash, Storm-Slave broke free of his bonds.

“Children of the sea!” he boomed. “Your bonds cannot hold the Tempest!”

Dizziness overtook Kaawen, and she swayed as a haze washed through her mind. She was vaguely aware of Firion and Gathwen running away, but Betath bent toward her and took her chin in his hands.

“Kaawen, I know you’re in pain, love, but we have to run now. Can you run for me?”

Run? Um, yeah, she could do that. But her head swam and her stomach churned. She bent over, fearful that she was going to throw up, but Betath continued to plead with her.

“Come on, Kaawen! Gods damn it, we need to run!”

“Okay, okay.”

He took her hand and started running, and she followed him, although she really couldn’t see where she was going. But it was urgent, and somewhere in the fog of her mind, she realized they were fleeing from danger. Hadn’t someone said something about running from a . . . storm atronach?

“Hurry, my friends!” came Razum-Dar’s voice, and Kaawen found herself stumbling over some driftwood and splashing into the sea on the other side of the island from wherever it was she had been before. There was a distant sound a bit like the pop of fireworks, but it was short-lived.

The salt water stung her leg but cleared her head, and she looked over at Betath, who floated next to her, looking absolutely terrified. “I’m okay,” she said, her words slurring a bit.

“Let’s get her out of the water so I can heal her,” Gathwen said from behind her.

Betath wrapped his arms around her and pulled her up on the beach with him, and she lay down on her back and looked up at several faces peering down at her. Everyone was wet, and for a moment she forgot why. Then she remembered they had all jumped into the ocean. But why? What had they been doing? Oh, that was right—the storm atronach. She guessed her head wasn’t as clear as she had thought it was.

Betath sat next to her and Firion and Raz stood over her, all looking on as Gathwen worked on her leg. There was a weird sucking sensation, then a warm feeling washed over her entire leg and the pain and disorientation was gone. She sat up.

“Gathwen, you’re really good at that,” she said. “You should look into becoming a healer.”

“Perhaps I will,” she said proudly.

Kaawen looked at Betath. “Help me up?”

He stood up, then took her hands and pulled her up, gazing into her eyes with great relief. “You scared me,” he said softly. “I thought I was going to have to find another shorty-elf to torment.”

“No, no, you can go right back to tormenting me.”

Edhelas and Onglorn came running up to them. “You made it!” Edhelas cried.

“Report,” Firion commanded.

“We swept the shoreline. Commander Karinith captured some Maormer, but the Green Lady slaughtered the rest. I’ve never seen so much blood.”

“We’re so sorry about Nistel,” said Kaawen.

“Don’t mourn for Nistel,” Onglorn reassured her. “You made sure her sacrifice had meaning. Gods favor you, friends.”

Sergeant Firion took Kaawen’s and Betath’s hands in each of hers. “It was good working with you again. We have to go take care of Nistel now. Eternal loyalty, my friends.”

“You go, Firion,” said Kaawen. “Take care of your friend. I’m sure we’ll meet again.”

After the marines left, Raz placed a hand on Kaawen’s shoulder. “To escape death so triumphantly is a constant thrill, yes? Not so thrilling for the Maormer, of course. They are all either captured, fled, or dead, thanks to your efforts. And the Green Lady’s. Khenarthi’s Roost is safe, and voluntarily a part of the Aldmeri Dominion. You will receive a hefty sum of gold for your efforts. Had he known you would do so well, Raz would have scrounged up a nicer reward.”

“Gold is nice,” Betath said mildly. “If you gave us a trinket, we’d probably sell it for the gold anyway.”

“Raz can see your point.”

Kaawen turned to Gathwen, who stood smiling next to her. “I’m heading back to town,” the mage announced. “I do hope to see you again, hopefully with Rurelion by my side.” She reached for Kaawen and hugged her, then wrapped her arms around Betath’s waist and hugged him, as well. Then she turned and walked back up the beach.

“So, Kaawenyth,” said Raz, “are you still interested in helping out a simple Khajiit who looks out for the welfare of the people of the Aldmeri Dominion? In an official capacity, that is.”

“Of course. I’ve had more excitement these last few weeks than I’ve had in my entire life.”

“Good, good. The Maormer are like drunken uncle. Chase them off and they always come back. The people of Khenarthi’s Roost will be ready for them, but others will not be so prepared. If the vipers’ numbers are large enough to assault Khenarthi, then all the southern seas are in danger. The queen is in Auridon right now. Raz would ask the two of you to head to Vulkhel Guard and report to Watch Captain Astanya. She can pass word to Her Majesty. Perhaps you can hitch a ride on the Prowler; this one believes they are headed that way. Stop in at the fort before you go to obtain your rewards.”

“Understood,” said Betath.

The Green Lady came up the beach and stopped next to Kaawen. “I heard you were out here. I ran out of Maormer to kill. If you find any, you’ll let me know, won’t you?”

“What are you going to do now, my lady?” Betath asked her, although Kaawen knew very well what the Green Lady would do now.

“Now I’ll mourn the Silvenar. I must find oils for his body and tools for the rites.” She swallowed hard and said, “I can almost feel his hand on mine and hear him say, ‘all things find their way.’ But he’s gone forever and I’ll soon follow.”

Kaawen took her hand. “I’m not sure what I’m supposed to say.”

“Just say ‘farewell,’ Kaawenyth.”

“Farewell, my lady.”

The Green lady squeezed Kaawen’s hand, nodded at Betath and Raz, and walked back up the beach. Kaawen sighed sadly. She knew her spirit would live on in the next Green Lady, but she would miss this one. She had a fire and a fortitude Kaawen could only hope to aspire to.

Razum-Dar, Betath, and she started up the beach toward Mistral as well. “So,” Kaawen said as they walked. “What can we expect on Auridon?”

“Very tall elves and very green shores. And Betath’s parents.”

“Divines help us,” Betath groaned. “Will you be coming to Auridon, Raz?”

“Soon, soon. Raz will help Headwoman Harrani get established in the Dominion first, and then he will go back to Auridon. Keep a barstool warm for him, will you, friend?”

“Of course.”

On the docks, Kaawen and Betath spoke to Captain Jimila, who offered to take them to Auridon at no charge. She was going there anyway, and she felt she still owed them for helping to fix her ship. She said they would set sail as soon as the two elves were ready, so they went back to town, packed up their gear, and headed to the fort to collect their payment. The sun was just setting when they boarded the Prowler and set sail for Auridon.

* * *

Two nights into the trip, Kaawen awoke with a feeling of aching emptiness in her chest. The loneliness was almost unable to bear, and a great sob escaped her throat. She wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep now, so she headed up on deck.

Betath was still up and about, sitting near the bow, leaning against some crates and gazing up at the stars. He scooted over to give Kaawen room when she approached.

“Couldn’t sleep?” he asked.

“I just felt the Green Lady pass on,” she told him.

He reached out and took her hand. “I’m sorry. What will happen now?”

“Now a new Silvenar and Green Lady will rise.”

“How are they chosen?”

“Y’ffre picks them. That’s really all I know.”

“Maybe you’ll be the Green Lady.”

Kaawen shook her head. “I seriously doubt it. The Green Lady is a seasoned fighter, the epitome of strength and spirit, a natural leader.”

“You just described yourself, Kaawen.”

“No, Betath. It’s not me.”

“All right. But I think you would be an excellent Green Lady.”

“But if I was—can we talk about something else?”

They turned the conversation toward Vulkel Guard and their mission, but Betath didn’t let go of her hand. She certainly wasn’t about to let go.

They arrived at the port of Vulkhel Guard late in the afternoon a couple of days later, and Kaawen was ready to step on dry land again. Life on a ship could be tedious, especially when the crew wouldn’t let her help out. She was ready to get out and start working again.

“Take care of yourself,” said Captain Jimila as they began to debark just as the sun was setting. “This one hopes she will see you soon.”

As they stepped onto the dock, Betath took Kaawen’s hand. “Come with me. I want to show you something.”

“Where are we going?” she asked as she followed him down a long boardwalk.

“It’s the perfect time of day. You’ll love this.”

He led her to the end of the boardwalk and across the beach to a retaining wall. Just offshore were several giant, curving rock formations, one of which had grass and trees growing atop it. The sun was sinking just behind the formation with the trees, casting a warm, golden glow over the water and the beach below.

Kaawen gasped. “That’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Kaawen, I—” But he stopped before he finished.

She reluctantly turned away from the sunset and looked up at him. For a moment, they just stared in each other’s eyes, and then he reached around and undid the strap of her braid, letting her hair fall loose around her shoulders.

“You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” he said, barely above a whisper.

Ch 5 - Betath and Kaawen.Vulkhel Guard.First K by Whisper292

Kaawen’s heart soared. Standing on tiptoe, she curled her fingers around his neck and pulled him down to her, covering his mouth with hers. He leaned into the kiss, wrapping his arms around her waist. Her lips parted to accept his tongue, and she breathed him in greedily, as though this first kiss would be their last. He withdrew all too soon and rested his forehead against hers, and she had a brief moment of irrational fear that it would be their last kiss, so she turned her head and kissed him again. Betath nibbled gently on her lips, threading his fingers through her hair.

She finally pulled back and said, “All right, now I’m done.”

He chuckled softly and caressed her cheek, his golden eyes gazing warmly into hers. “We waited far too long for that.”

“I agree.”

“When that snake bit you on Khenarthi’s Roost, I was afraid I was going to lose you.”

“We’ve both been injured before.”

“I know, but that time . . . I don’t know. It just . . . you’re so precious to me, Shorty-Elf.”

“And you to me. I’m not going anywhere.”

She turned around and leaned back against his chest, and he wrapped his arms around her. As they enjoyed the sunset and the feel of each other’s bodies, Kaawen realized that there wouldn’t be a last kiss anytime soon.

Ch 5 - Betath and Kaawen.Vulkhel Guard.She's a by Whisper292

This ongoing serial, which is a collaboration with the hubby, ChessCoach, follows the adventures of Kaawen and Betath as they join the Eyes of the Queen in an effort to save the fledgling Aldmeri Dominion from those who would bring it down. Warning: spoilers for the Aldmeri Dominion questline.


The last two pics belong to the hubby and can be seen full-size here:……

Find other The Queen’s Eyes chapters here:…
Check out Whisper’s other fanfiction here:…
Characters and settings © 2014 Bethesda Softworks LLC

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Finally I drew a character sheet for my fursona. It's a unique name.

NO, you are NOT allowed to use this (only as a ref if you want to draw her for me)!!!

This is my personal character, do not steal her design, name or anything else!

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Feel free to use as a reference or as stock for photo-manipulations. Non-commercial use only.

Please provide proper credit if used.
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Female Mexican grey wolf from the Utica Zoo in Utica, NY snarling at one of her sisters (who is just out of view to the right of the frame of this image).

Learn more about the highly endangered Mexican wolves at [link]

Feel free to use as a reference or as stock for photo-manipulations. Non-commercial use only.

Please provide proper credit if used.

More Mexican Grey Wolves:
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Male red wolf, Waya, from the Rosamond Gifford Zoo in Syracuse, NY being absolutely ridiculous. This image isn't the best quality but I thought it was an excellent pose reference for a wolf running full speed.

Feel free to use as a reference or as stock for photo-manipulations. Non-commercial use only.

Please provide proper credit if used.

Learn more about red wolves, one of the world's most endangered wolves, here: [link]
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C'mon, Dad, at least fake a smile, the kiddo is trying so hard :turbopoke:

Daeghun Farlong (wood elf, ranger, Neverwinter Nights 2) (c) Obsidian/Atari
Adele 'Del' Farlong (half-drow, NWN2-DnD, no class yet :)) is totally my fault

3H, HB, B, 2B pencils + a tad of colours in PS

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For :iconshingorengeki:
Gouka and Alleena. I hope everyone likes them:)
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Finally found some time for personal work again!
So this is somewhere between a sketch and finished work, decided to share even through.
Photoshop CS4 & Wacom Intuos 5, about two hours so far.

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Please proceed to draw me lots of fanart C:

(c) ME (c) ME (c) ME

ALSO, you are not allowed to think my fursona is bad until you roleplay with me!!!

This already done much better: [link]
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here is my new sona yeah
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stam req for =Kakuzu1221
-quite fond of this moment of dat sexy bounty hunter.
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Why do I hate KakuHida? Oh, not only because I'm a rabid HidaDei fan (I am a SasoDei fan too, if you want to know), but many other reasons. It ruins Hidan's character and turns him into some snivelling helpless uke. And Kakuzu? Ruined too, by being turned into a retarded rapist. But in case you're wondering, I'm ALSO anti-HidaKaku. I don't care who is the seme or uke, I just HATE this pairing in general.

I support the following Kakuzu and Hidan pairings:
:iconhidanplz: :iconkuzuplz:


But anyway, yeah. If you hate KakuHida/HidaKaku too, then feel free to use this stamp. I'm disabling comments for obvious reasons. I'm just SICK and TIRED of KakuHida fantards up in my face. I've been arguing with you guys for years, and I no longer have the energy to argue with KakuHida fanbrats anymore. So, yes. COMMENTS DISABLED. You can go bitch about this pairing elsewhere. I will ALWAYS regard Kakuzu and Hidan's relationship as more BROTHERLY and PLATONIC. I hate their yaoi with a BURNING PASSION!
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    Featuring Maeve and Zhaenn

    Late Spring, Year 760 of the New Age

    Middle caves, Oakenfern



What she was doing near this part of the caves was beyond her. If the guards didn’t try to attack her thinking her to be some intruder there was always Morrigan and her “sisters” to worry about. They wouldn’t go after Laure though. She’d made sure of it. She’d taught her daughter to wear the fire pendant given to her during her time in Silverthorne to keep the beasts at bay. She’d be safe, she hoped.

She wandered watching the moss go from the vibrant hues of the deep caves to the plain green that came with going closer to the herd. She was in dangerous territory now. She was closer to the herd than she should ever be and that was just asking for it. Though now she could fight back. To one who had known her the only thing recognizable about her would be her coat and her, now orange, moss marking. She carried herself with pride, she was no ones plaything now or ever again. She could fight now. But why did she feel so terrified then?

She froze. There was the scent of another fawn approaching. No. No, no, no! No. Not now. Not today. Ducking behind some rocks she waited for the other to come close enough for her to tell whether they were friend or foe and react accordingly.


Zhaenn moved quietly on silent, practiced hooves. Part of living in caves, in near complete darkness is you learn at an early age how sound carries and Zhaenn at an early age learned how to move just right, either silently like a viper or announcing her presence like rattling snake. The charms worn on her tail could be used to make all kinds of sounds and while normally she would use them to announce her passing. But these were not normal times and Zhaenn was on the edge of the herd’s main territory; while all the caves belonged to them, the farther you got from the Moonpool the farther you were from safety. So Zhaenn held her tail up, keeping the charms from bouncing along the tunnel floor, moving silently trying to pass unheard and unseen.

Ahead she thought she’d heard a quick scamper, or a knocking of stones together, or hooves. While it could be one of the many creatures who live in the tunnels along side her people, or it could be an oathbreaker. Either way like a serpent sensing prey she changed her course and stalked forward. Truthfully Zhaenn was in search of fungi and algies for her potions and brews but curiosity lead her hooves onward. If it was a fellow herd member she welcomed a hopefully friendly meeting, if it was an enemy...well she had ways of dealing with them too.


Maeve was afraid. She didn’t want to lose Laure, as had been promised by her Silverthorne friends she loved her fawn with all her heart, the thought of losing her terrified her. She didn’t want to lose anyone else. She’d lost more than enough for one lifetime. She shouldn’t have been afraid though. She could actually fight now, she’d actually stand a chance, and wouldn’t need the help of Morrigan and her sisters to do it. However part of her wanted to cry out for their aid. How could she be so weak?

She peeked over the rocks to view the fawnling as it drew closer. An old memory bubbled to the surface of an herbalist whom she’d sought out long ago to help her be rid of the sisters.

“Zhaenn?” she called in disbelief, slowly rising from her hiding spot. “Is that you?”


Zhaenn could hardly believe her ears, she heard a voice, older for sure, but still a voice she would recognize. Memories of bad air and strange voices welled up inside her mind but Zhaenn shoved them away. She had heard the rumors but Zhaenn had chosen to ignore those as well. Zhaenn didn’t have friends but if she had time for them she would consider making Maeve one, they were both odd-balls in the herd.

“Maeve?” She said softly as the doe slide out from her hiding place. “I thought you’d left for good. Why are you back?”

Zhaenn took a few steps forward, so she would be easier to see in the gloom that was their home, hoping the closeness would put Maeve and ease and took a deep breath to see if the air in this part of the cave was good.


“I meant to,” she explained, “But... Come, Ajani’s- my cave, my cave is not far and it will be easier for me to tell my tale there. The sisters haunt me no more so there’s nothing to fear. I must ask though that you do not reveal that I have returned. It would not be safe for me.”

It was good to see Zhaenn again she was a familiar, and welcome, face after so much had changed. It was nice to know that at least something had remained the same.


Zhaenn nodded, “I will not tell anyone I have seen you. These times are strange and I fear we are all at risk.” She didn’t add that Oakferns had been killing each other when they should be more concerned about the wolves above ground, but it was best to keep her views to herself, these were odd times. Instead she said, “Much has happened and it would be good for you to know as well.”


“Thank you,” she said sighing in relief. As she turned and walked she motioned for Zhaenn to follow. She remained relatively silent as they walked deeper and deeper into the caves until she finally came to stop in front of a surprisingly well lit cavern. The walls were decorated with many drawings old and new: two fawns playing (one in orange moss and another in green), two hoof prints (also in orange and green), and other miscellaneous stories. In the center was a small chestnut fawn that, while no more than 3, was far larger than it should have been. Around its neck was a red crystal amulet that seemed to glow with a fire of its own.

“I have learned, gained, and lost much since I have been gone. I now come back and found I can’t even recognize my own herd anymore,” she whispered entering her home. “This is my daughter: Laure. Try not to wake her. She’s growing so large, she needs the sleep.”


She followed Maeve in silence, holding her tail just so. Her charms not making a sound. Zhaenn was accustomed to moving quietly thru the tunnels of her home and since secrecy was important to Maeve she felt there was no need to talk until the other doe was ready. Keeping a wary ear out for any sound that could cause danger she followed.

Zhaenn could tell they were approaching something, she wasn’t sure what, but the cave ahead had a soft glow, brighter than the luminescent mosses and lichens of the caves they passed through but also not blindingly bright like the sun above. Maeve lead Zhaenn past the threshold of the cave into the soft glow Zhaenn was not quite prepared for what she saw. Zhaenn had seen other paint on the walls with the same luminescent fungi that they used to paint on their bodies, but that was mostly fawns or shamans. This was different. Zhaenn could tell that the fawnling or fawnlings, who had painted these had been at it for a long time. She could see the progression of age some of the paints were similar to the ones fawns like to paint. Others had deft strokes about them, and all of them seemed to be telling stories. Some of the tales were easy to read but most were indecipherable and only with the help of the painter could the story be told. Impressive to say the least. Zhaenn couldn’t help but wonder if this was how someone might feel if they stumbled across the Pit that she tested her poisons in.

It wasn’t until she had gotten over the initial shock that Zhaenn noticed the fawn.

“Yours.” She said more than asked in a low voice so as to not wake it. “I guess I should congratulate you, I imagine I don’t want to know who the father is.” Zhaenn hated all fawnlings not Oakfern but it did not surprise her Maeve, who was an outcast who consort with one, even just to get a fawn. While Zhaenn would never be caught with an oathbreaker she did consort with outcasts from her own herd. And in truth, if the fawn had a mother who was Oakfern the fawn was close enough to Oakfern to her. The child should not pay for the mother’s crime. Outcasts were outside the law of the herd and so Zhaenn would forgive, well maybe that was a strong word, more like ignore. She could feel Maeve’s eyes boring into her so Zhaenn changed the topic before the silence demanded she speak her mind.

“Times have changed, Oakferns have been killing each other, the old Oracle died and it's rumored the King ordered it so. Then there was the Pale Swan, and now Crowe. There is much upheaval in the tunnels, I like many others are just keeping our heads low and waiting for the dust to clear. You would be wise to do the same, maybe then you can come back to the herd.”

She left the option of rejoining the herd hanging there, maybe it was from years of being a healer but Zhaenn felt rather then saw the wound, there was an unseen injury about Maeve. She had said she had lost much but it was more than that. Zhaenn hoped that maybe the chance to come back would help start to heal her wound.


“The union was not a happy, or willing, one,” Maeve explained wincing at Zhaenn’s comment. “A Blackwood stag wanted to woo me for his harem. I ran from him, but not fast enough. It took me a long time to recover mentally and physically from the attack. I had hoped my fawnhood friend would still be here when I got back, he’d be especially equipped to help Laure and I needed the comfort. He wasn’t though. All I can do is pray that the herd didn’t do what they've wanted to since the start.”

Tears began to streak down her cheeks as she sat on the floor motioning for Zhaenn to do the same. She’d loved Ajani and he’d cared for her quite a bit too. They were both outcasts and now more than ever she longed for his company and comfort.

She listened to the news Zhaenn gave her heart dropping to the pit of her stomach. She was more afraid for his life than ever. Oakferns killing each other? The oracle dead? And birds? What in the Western Isles had happened during her time in Silverthorne? She opened her mouth to ask just that but quickly shut it again.

“The herd cast me out for the transgressions of creatures I could neither control nor explain, they cast Ajani out for being different than them. They will harm my daughter for the same reason. No. The herd is dead to me for what it has done to us,” she hissed a dangerous fire lighting her eyes. “I hid in Silverthorne and do you know what I was met with? Taran, Simba, Sila, Jade, and Quinn. They weren’t afraid of me though we have given them more than enough reason to. That amulet you see Laure wearing? Sila gave that to me to help me keep the sisters away from me and my fawn. It works. She or the others could have easily burned me alive, but they didn’t. I was different, a killer as far as they knew, but they chose to help me. Now if the tables were turned would you or the others be so kind? I think not.”

One day the closed minds of her former herd would open again, though Gaelach only knew when that would be. She just hoped it was soon. Laure was starting to grow too big even for this cavern, the former home of the son of a Silverthorne and Oakfern union.

“Now what was this about a pale swan and crow?” she asked cocking her head curiously. Her fire was dimmed now but still there.


Zhaenn hesitantly touched her muzzle to Maeve’s shoulder, hoping the gesture would comfort her when Maeve told Zhaenn of the rape.

“I am sorry but I am glad you have recovered. I hope you find your friend soon.” Zhaenn lay down next to Maeve as the tears started to roll down the doe’s cheeks. Zhaenn wasn’t good at comfort, she was used to dealing with physical pains, or causing them. She didn’t deal with the emotional pains, that was for other healers no one came to Zhaenn looking for a shoulder to cry on. But there was no one here and Maeve wouldn’t likely confide in anyone else from the herd, Zhaenn imagined she should feel honored in a way but the waters of friends and relationships where dark and muddy to her ever since she lost her eye she turned her back on such things in dedication to her arts.

Zhaenn was shocked when the sudden fire rose in Maeve’s eyes as she spoke of the herd and her times in Silverthorne. Zhaenn knew better than to rise to the bait, she didn’t want to provoke the doe, not with her fawn so near.

“I imagine you are right, especially so now. Things may change for the herd, everything is different now but you are best to stay safe and hide away.” Zhaenn said hoping to sooth Maeve a bit, she was so bad at this.

And then at Maeve’s request Zhaenn told about the old shaman Berach and his adoptive daughter Elf, the raid on their den and then of Nuala and the sacrifice. Well aware that the tale may only give Maeve more fuel for her distrust of the herd, so she quickly continued. Telling Maeve about the light and how Nu had risen and blinded everyone and then how Berach and Elf and Nu had vanished. Then the tale wound its way to Crowe, who had been another outcast that Berach had taken on and trained and how when everyone vanished after the Nu-Swan, Crowe had vanished too, only to return changed, and powerful and taken place as the oracle. Zhaenn talked about the feathers the new oracle had and the owl feet. No one could doubt her connection to Gealach she looked more an owl then a crow.

“And that is all that has happened recently.” Zhaenn finished, she felt like she’d been talking for aged, so she looked over to Maeve to see how the tale affected the doe.


Maeve was glad for the comforting gesture. While in Silverthorne she had gotten support from those who had been kind to her, here she had no one. Her daughter knew that, for whatever reason, her mother hated her father but not much more than that and Ajani was nowhere to be found. Honestly, other than Zhaenn, she was alone.

After hearing about recent events she was glad that she’d missed it. She and her daughter would surely have been killed. Not to mention the swan. Though it did amuse her that an outcast had been chosen by Gaelach himself to take a place of prominence. Maybe he did have a sense of humor after all.

“Thank you,” she said still processing some of the tale. “It was good to see you again Zhaenn, I’d missed having company. Please be careful, should anyone find out you’ve spoken with me it may not end well for you.”

Though she didn’t agree with Zhaenn’s “morals” she still considered her a friend and she’d lost enough of those already.

Featuring Maeve and Zhaenn

Late Spring, Year 760 of the New Age

Middle caves, Oakenfern

The fawnling breed and the Western Isles themselves belong to Ehetere and :iconfawnlings:

Zhaenn belongs to LaughingHeron
and Maeve to me
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(Contains: nudity, sexual themes, violence/gore, strong language and ideologically sensitive material)
Daddioh may not know how to talk much, or stay at the table, or have manners, or be nice to others, or be a happy-go-lucky-people person anymore. But he certainly knows how to give gifts. That never changed. I think Becky was very happy. He cannot talk out out his mouth, but certainly knows how to show love through his wallet and his hard work from it. A stoic man. Even Travis managed, this Holiday Day. Before he couldn't even eat or open gifts with the family without resorting to coping techniques like stripping nude and wearing thongs or running away and me chasing him and getting mad. I was a little worried there... He must be getting better. There is a lot of drama and hate and chaos and pain with family, but a lot of love and persistence. Even had to show some thanks and say it I appreciate them personally, including Becky, even if it is difficult for me. I am not sure if there are answers to dealing with the short comings without resorting to feeling angry and bitter and resentful. But I do love them and appreciate them. And I had to tell them that. Seeing this as you get older you understand the meaning of life through death. And appreciate it. I cannot always say I appreciate it because some days I rather choose sleep and death to escape the misery of pain and living, but days like these, give tears to my eyes. You want to be able to give your all for other people's happiness, but that is not reality, or healthy, you can give all you want, and they including yourself may still be unhappy. Sacrifice is not love. And because love and happiness wavers, a balance is necessary. Sacrifice does not determine the happiness as the end result. You really gotta to learn to care less, otherwise you get caught up in the fire of chaos and mess. Life is very sad and disappointing sometimes. A never ending struggle and fight to stay alive and survive. But there are happy moments at least sometimes. And with that, you realize you can win sometimes, rather then lose all the time. The basis of life vs death, is being alive, and that is something I can be thankful for. It's not exactly living, but maybe no one really finds true happiness.  To fake it to make it. There is no happily ever after all the time. Sometimes it is surviving ever after. And even from surviving, you can appreciate just being alive. Happiness and love is too short-coming for me, if you are alive, and not dead, there is still gratitude knowing you are conscious that despite the struggle you made it, today. When you share the love, you also share the pain. And that is okay, as long as you are alive, a burden and gift we all share.
Gratitude for Being Alive
© 2014. KyoTicK & CheonHoPark. All Rights Reserved.
You may not reproduce, distribute, publicly display or perform, or prepare derivative works based on any of the Content including any such works without the express, written consent of the appropriate owner of copyright in such works.
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How tightly
we held when there was no one saying
Come back
We did not tell you you could run
You've got to let go what it means to
Take on
This look of angry haunt contempt

Then a breath of hush and momentary
Dimming of the searching flares
Grounding real and solitary
Catch your eyes
Chasing on behind you

Line break
Rules we never had agreed to
Come back
We never said that you could be
Drink the polish that will take off
Passion that may burn it all down

Drown me in a cashmere sigh
tinged with sharpness of remain alive
Velvet grip around my heart
Encompass all that is me

It's you

Pack break
Look aside but never back to
Come back
They never said that we could be

They never said anything
They never said anything
They never said anything
Something that came to me while listening to Horizons EP by :icontubbums32:  If you haven't listened, then, yeah. Do so.

Enjoy CT, man.  MA is just as snowless, but that can change at any time...
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"Yes me." Light said getting out of the car to stand in front of me. Light was as youthful and clean as ever, I didn't know how that was possible since he'd been dead for three years, buried under ground. 
"You're dead. How?" I said almost sadly.
"You do see me though don't you?" He asked me almost scared. 
"Yes, I mean you're here." I said hesitantly touching his cheek. He froze at my gesture of doubt. I surprisingly warm skin under my hand. Light only smiled at my surprise. 
"You picked up my Death Note." He said seemingly freezing time. 
"Is that what that was?" I asked taking the book out of my purse. I gazed at the leather-like surface and flipped through the pages absent mindedly. 
"Yes, and to answer your question I'm alive because I was reborn as a Shinigami. I can exist in this world in my human form." Light said. Shinigami were gods of death, my memories took me back to the crime scene where I had to help Ryuzaki gather evidence. He was dead of course too, but if Light Yagami was alive then anything was possible. L and I had become friends at wammy's house when we were too young for words. We both made promises to do our best in the world and achieve our goals. Sadly I had not fulfilled my promise to him. Now I was beginning to think that meeting Light as a Shinigami was pure fate. I could fulfill my wish and make the world pure.
"I should first tell you my name." I said taking my hand away from his face blushing.
"No need, I can see your name and time of death." Light said shrugging.
"How?" I asked still confused.
"I'm a Shinigami it comes with being one. If you so wish it, you can have that power too, but it will cut your life in half." 
"I don't know about that yet. I'm still hesitant about killing people. Why did I even find this?" I asked holding the notebook. 
"Because you're destined to become the goddess of the new world." Light said grinning at me. 
"I-I." I stuttered like the 26-year old schoolgirl i was. Light cut me off by pulling me closer and kissing me on the lips with a fiery passion.  
"I can help you. You'll do great. Mei-Rin." He said saying my name. The kiss felt so insincere and I was unsure of what to do. Luckily he felt the nervous tension and broke the kiss running a hand through his hair.
"I want to go home and think about this. You have to come with me don't you?" I asked. When I was working with Ryuzaki he told me everything about what went on during the Kira case. I was his scribe and it fail safe just in case he was killed along with his predecessors. I knew all about the death note and it's capabilities. The only reason I was working with swine such as Sukima was because N wouldn't take me in to work on his personal team. I of course resented him for it. 
"That's fine. Just use the note once and it can truly become yours." Light said opening the car door for me. I got in the car and drove home with Light in silence. 
I'll write something that explains Mei-rin's relationship with L... eventually

sorry this was so short :iconlolkiraplz:
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It was a dark and stormy night. And throughout the house, not even a light. I heard you weeping in a corner of the room. I could not resist. I had to find a way to comfort you. I made my way over gently sitting down next to you. I wrapped my arms around you, cooing gently. You buried your face into my chest, weeping and shaking in my arms from terror…After all, darkness always scared you. I still continued to hold you close, gently whispering 'it will be okay.' And then I said something bizarre…'I can make your fear go away.' As I said that, your head tilted to look up at me. I gently wiped the tears that were running down your warm, blushing cheeks. And when I wiped the final tear, we kissed tenderly…and the lights flickered back on.
Felt like writing something sweet! blush 
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Undertaker from Black Butler

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Fandom: Skyrim
Pairing: Ondolemar x Ryndoril (Male Bosmer Dragonborn)

“Ryndoril? What are you doing?”

Ryndoril smiled at the sound of Ondolemar’s voice, but didn’t move from where he was.

“Watching the snow,” Ryndoril replied, as though it was obvious.

“And trying to freeze to death?” Ondolemar asked dryly. “You could watch the snow through a window, you know.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Ryndoril laughed. “Come join me.”

“Lying on the snow-covered ground in the middle of the night?” Ondolemar asked, shaking his head. “You’re mad, elf.”

“It isn’t that cold,” Ryndoril said, rolling his eyes. He was lying on his back on the ground as large snowflakes fell around him, just outside their house. It was so cold the nearby waterfall was silent, frozen in place.

“Yes, it is,” Ondolemar argued, but joined the Bosmer anyway, spreading a blanket over them both. Ryndoril grinned over at his lover.

“You planned on joining me anyway, didn’t you?” he asked knowingly.

“No,” Ondolemar said, unable to stop a smile at Ryndoril’s obvious happiness. “I did know you wouldn’t come inside, however, and intended to ensure you stayed warm.”

“Always thinking of me,” Ryndoril teased, taking Ondolemar’s hand under the blanket.

“Why are you out here anyway?” Ondolemar asked, pulling the elf closer to him, Ryndoril’s head resting on his shoulder.

“No particular reason,” Ryndoril said, sighing happily. He really hadn’t felt that cold before, but now next to Ondolemar, he realized how cold he’d been. “It’s just…peaceful.”

“I see,” Ondolemar said, amused. His Bosmer really could be very strange.

“Don’t you think so?” Ryndoril said, lowering his voice to a whisper. “It’s so…silent when it snows like this.”

“Yes, that snowstorm we faced on the way to Winterhold was terribly peaceful,” Ondolemar said. Ryndoril laughed quietly and poked him.

“That was a windy, awful blizzard,” Ryndoril reminded him. “Nothing like this. And we’re not stuck, the house is right there,” he added.

“Yes, the house,” Ondolemar said. “With a fireplace. And warmth. And no snow on my face.”

“But you look cute with snow on your face,” Ryndoril smiled, moving so he was leaning over the Altmer now. Ondolemar rolled his eyes, and Ryndoril bent his head to kiss the elf’s lips. Ondolemar kissed him back eagerly, tightening his arms around the Bosmer.

“All right,” Ondolemar gave in. “I suppose I can think of far worse things than this.” Ryndoril smiled softly, bringing chilly fingers up to stroke the Altmer’s cheek.

“You really do look lovely with the snow in your hair like that, you know,” Ryndoril said, looking at the snowflakes glinting in the light from the torches by the door of the house. “It makes you look…magical.”

“I am magical,” Ondolemar reminded him. “And if I’d known you liked the cold this much, I could just conjure ice to blanket the floor.” Ryndoril chuckled.

“That isn’t the same thing, and you know it,” he told the mer. “Besides…isn’t it fun to try to stay warm this way?” He followed up the question with another kiss, this one deeper.

“Mmm,” Ondolemar hummed his assent, pleased. “Indeed it is.” He ran his fingers through the Bosmer’s red hair, staring into the warm brown eyes he’d come to love. Ryndoril was practically on top of him, their faces hardly an inch apart as they gazed intently at one another for just a moment.

“I’m glad you came to join me,” Ryndoril whispered, and Ondolemar pulled him down for one more kiss, lips lightly brushing before passion overtook them both. Ryndoril pushed his tongue between Ondolemar’s lips, tasting the elf’s preferred wine, and Ondolemar happily allowed it entry, brushing his own tongue along the Bosmer’s. Ryndoril moaned softly at that, and felt Ondolemar chuckle into his mouth.

The two elves lay on the snowy ground, flakes falling to cover them, lost in one another’s lips.

“I don’t feel very cold anymore,” Ryndoril finally whispered, his voice a little breathless.

“Neither do I,” Ondolemar agreed softly, squeezing the elf’s body close to him.

“See? I’m not completely mad,” Ryndoril teased. Ondolemar snorted and tickled the Bosmer’s side, making Ryndoril laugh and wriggle off of him.

“You still are,” Ondolemar told him, rolling over to face the elf properly. “But I can live with it.” Ryndoril smiled brightly.

“I like sharing the snow with you,” Ryndoril informed the Altmer, gazing over at the green eyes next to him. “Even if we are both covered in it.” Ondolemar laughed.

“Come inside,” he said, getting to his feet and pulling the Bosmer up. “We’re both going to be soaked as it is.”

“And we’ll warm up properly in there?” Ryndoril asked mischievously.

“I certainly hope so,” Ondolemar smirked.

This is set pretty far in the future for Ryndoril and Ondolemar. The Dragonborn business is dealt with, and they have a house in the Rift (a bit north of Riften), near a waterfall that they can hear when it isn’t frozen over.

I wrote this because a) I love snow, b) it’s the holiday season, and c) I wanted to thank my readers. Honestly, I am so overwhelmed by the love I get for these two; when Ryndoril first popped into my head several months ago, I never would have dreamed this would turn into what it has. The comments, kudos, and likes I’ve gotten for Ryndoril’s stories are just completely amazing to me; I can still hardly believe anyone likes my rambling enough to think it worth reading! That said, I can’t thank you enough, any of you. Your support and comments and LOVE for this pairing makes me indescribably happy, and I’m so incredibly grateful to all of you who keep up with my favorite boys.

Almost since I conceived this pairing, I’ve been working on a very lengthy fic detailing Ryndoril’s adventures with learning he is Dragonborn and everything that entails. It’s going to be in two distinct parts, ultimately ending with Ryndoril, of course, fighting Alduin. Part one is finished, and after all this time is finally polished up to a point I think I can be comfortable posting it (all 17 chapters!!) I’ll start posting it in the new year, along with working on part two (though I can’t promise anything about when it will be released). I can promise that there will be adventure, love, excitement, and loads more fluffiness between my wonderful Ryndoril and Ondolemar.

Once again, thank you all so much for reading and continuing to follow Ryndoril’s story. I love you all. Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!


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I finished a prize for Facebook " Active followers" lottery.
Her name is Kaimi and she is character of Kinga Katona. Hope you like her!

I choose one winner every 50/100 new likes on our Facebook Page.

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Inquisitor Cyric Rune and his daughter Sierra are aetheldeviant's original characters from Warhammer 40,000 universe.

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