Chapter 19: Unintentional Romantic Endeavors — Ver. 2.0
• • •
Lydia sees that Drake's still awake and sits up a bit straighter. "Can't sleep?" She asks, looking at him with concern. Her heart's been racing this entire time. Likely because of the things Drake have said. It's been... romantic, to say the least. At the very minimum, it made her heart race. Her cheeks flare from time to time as she starts to imagine scenarios before quickly dismissing them.
He shakes his head. "No, I just have a lot on my mind. I was thinking about what I said last night. The thing I said I didn't feel ready to talk about."
Lydia tilts her head to the side. 'Shite. Shite. Shite.' She keeps thinking the same thing, her thoughts stuck in a loop. She doesn't know if she's ready to hear this. It might kill the mood, and ruin her chances. 'Chances? Chances for what?' She didn't even realize it, but she'd been hoping for... Something. Maybe for Drake to realize that she...
Lydia unintentionally gasps quietly as her heart's and mind's thoughts coalesced, and formed into the same thought. 'By the Nine... I don't just *like* him. By Akatosh... I love him!'
Externally, of course, she must keep hold of herself. Even if... Even if she understands why she feels so strongly about him. Lydia quickly makes sure that she isn't quiet for too long and draws suspicion, by saying, "Oh? Then... Can I ask... What it was? Uh-...! If you're not alright saying it still, it's fine!"
Drake takes a deep breath, exhaling into sigh. "To be honest, I've forgotten my friends' faces. That doesn't sound like much, but I've spent almost the entirety of my childhood with my friends, so forgetting what they look like..."
Drake sighs again. "It hurts. Like I've forgotten my friends themselves. Like we were never friends, and it feels almost like I can't ever go back to the times we once had together." He laughs, sullenly. Sourly. As if there wasn't anything funny, or happy, or positive in the situation at all. "The nostalgia tasting once so sweet is now but a bitter poison."
Lydia's expression softens. "I... I don't quite understand how you feel. I've never had what friends I have be forgotten," she says. "But... There's got to be... Look. Everyone is just a combination of other people they've met. Traits other people have that you like eventually rub off on you, too." She doesn't exactly know what she's talking about, as the majority of the friends she's ever had were either books or horses. Which would probably explain why she's paraphrasing the things she's read in them.
"You'll never truly forget your friends, even if you can't remember what they look like, because they're now a part of you. Besides, as far as I know, in life there are good things too." She smiles at Drake, trying to cheer him up.
He smirks back despondently, a single tear sliding down his cheek. He nods slowly, considering what she said. "Like what?" He asks.
Lydia smiles. Finally, a good question. One that she can actually answer. "Like spending time with someone you care about." For Lydia, this would be Daryon. Not many people liked Lydia very much once she got obsessed with books, as that would be the only things she'd talk about. Her relationship with her parents was already strained, given the jobs they had, but the books never helped.
Lydia continues. "Like reading a good book, sitting next to a fire, wrapped up in a comfortable fur or blanket. Like breaking someone's guard, and stepping in for a riposte. Like feeling the wind on your face as you ride through the countryside. Like watching the sun rise over the mountains, and feeling the dawn of a new day. Or the cool of the night and the beauty of the stars above you."
Drake's cheeks start to glow a soft red as she continues. It definitely wasn't just the fire. She did it! She actually cheered him up! She feels a fuzzy, warm sensation in herself, as she describes the things she enjoys.
"What about you?" Drake asks. "What do you like?"
Lydia's smile widens. "I like a lot of things," she says. "I like riding on Daryon, and hunting with my bow. Sometimes both, at the same time. I like reading in my spare time, and fighting with my swords."
As Drake listens to Lydia talk, he looks like he's growing more and more entranced.
"I think I'd like to see you do some of those things," he eventually says, smiling at her.
Lydia's face flushes slightly. "Really?" she asks, her voice barely above a whisper. 'Mara's tears! It's happening! I can do it! I can get him to fall in love with me!' She thinks, her eyes widening and her breath starts rise in both intensity and speed.
Drake nods, grinning. "Yeah. I think spending time with you might be one of the good things in my life."
Lydia blushes even further, and turns herself away, lying down on her bedroll. "I-I think spending time with you might be, too." She stutters out, shifting back and forth for a few minutes, her hands clasped together in front of her chest.
She eventually lies still, but then a creeping thought pervades her mind: 'Should... Should I watch him sleep again?'
She buried that urge quickly this time, however. She's not going to invade his privacy. Not again. She never should have even done it the first time to begin with. Lydia's heart falls as she realizes that because of what she did last night Drake might not even like her. Did he mean 'spending time with her', as in strictly in a professional setting?
She'd really rather have her relationship with the Thane be more than professional, but given what she did the first night of this trip, she no longer thinks that it may be possible.
In the end, what she needs to do is to try and repair her relationship with Drake. But how? How can she do so, is the question. That question remained in her head for a long time even after their conversation ended, right up until she fell asleep.
Meanwhile...
• • •
"I-I think spending time with you might be, too." Lydia says, her ears twitching. Her face was turned away, but from the way her body's rocking back and forth, I could tell that she was happy about what I said.
She killed my already dead mood from earlier, so I should probably thank her or something tomorrow. I turn my head back up to the sky. I don't know if telling her was the right idea, but in any case, it still helped me. The tear I shed earlier dried itself in a combination of the wind's blowing and the fire's heat. I can feel it drying out my cheek from the salt content.
I watch as dark clouds pass by in the night sky, contrasting the bright stars. 'Hmmm... An empty pit of darkness. A completely empty void. Wait a minute... I think I know...' But before I can continue that thought, my vision fades to black, and the dull pain from a headache I unknowingly had fades away, granting my head a cool, sweet relief.
.....
[
"It has." I say, getting up and turning around. The dark background is something and quiet is something I'm more than used to, now.
In front of me is a Greybeard, an old man weathered in the ways of the Thu'um, wearing a dark grey robe that's worn at the edges. It's Arngeir, a Nord easily in his seventies to nineties. He has a skinny frame, probably relative to his age and the fact that he's a monk, but despite that, he is, quite easily the strongest person in Skyrim alive, to date.
In the game, he was a level 150 NPC, which would probably sound small to other gamers, but there are some things to take note of.
First, in the game, you can defeat Alduin at level 20, which is arguably low, but since Alduin's level cap is 100, it's fair enough. You can kill him whenever you want. Second, there is by technicality, no level cap ingame, but things start to become difficult to level up around level 40, so to be able to reach 150 is impressive. Third, there is no levelling in real life, and Arngeir achieved that level of strength through meditation and learning.
So, for me to now face Arngeir of all people in this dreamscape... I'm pretty much screwed.
.... Is what I thought, until Arngeir simply sat down. That's right! The Greybeards have a code against using the Thu'um in combat. Something about it being too much power for any man to wield unnecessarily. In my opinion, that's kind of a waste of power. What the hell'd you spend like 80 years of your life learning if you ain't gonna use any of it?
Instead of paying attention to Arngeir, I focus my attention to the smoke and shadows surrounding me.
"I figured it out." I call out to the Benefactor.
[
"Who you are," I continue.
[
"You're Sithis, aren't you?" I ask. "The Void. The Dread Father."
[
"..." That was all I had, so I remain silent. What else could I say? I still don't perfectly know my Benefactor, Sithis' intentions. Nor anything of his plans, for me, for the future, or for Mundus, the material plane.
[
[] Sithis begins, filled with an almost sinful level of pride. []
[
He finishes the words "agonizing death" with a spiteful and arrogant tone, clearly filled with hate for the violators of his commandments.
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'A pretty damn good monologue, fit for a villain,' I think, especially with that finish. But wait...? Aren't there other parts of Sithis, too?
I don't really need to be afraid of him, despite his villainous demeanor. I've already talked to him about how useless he is on Mundus. About how he can't affect the world, or he's unwilling, or something along those lines.
"Hey, isn't there also supposed to a version of you focused on self-improvement, or something? Making sense out of madness, or something like that?" I ask, interrupting his laughter.
A sound then scratches out, splitting up his laughter, almost like the commonly used glitching noise in movies. A wretched sort of 'kshqkshksqhkshsq' noise, like the ones used in video edits.
His laughter cuts out completely, and a high-pitched noise screeches out, piercing my ears, like some kind of unholy demon squealing. I cover my ears as quickly as possible, trying to shut the noise out. It doesn't work.
It stops after a solid three seconds, so I take my hands off of my ears, and Sithis speaks again.
[]
Something completely different from what he said previously echoes out in his voice. Except... This version of the voice sounds more noble and uplifting. Almost god-like.
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'Akel? Fadomai? I don't know those names.' My mind races, but I keep drawing blanks. I don't recognize either of those two names.
[]
'Damn.' Now, *that's* a way to introduce yourself. The shadow realm remains quiet for a long time after Sithis finishes speaking, right up until the point that I'm forced to leave. I have no idea what to say.
.....
After waking up, I find myself shivering, due to a cold breeze flowing down off the mountain. Lydia wakes up not long after me, complaining of the frosty breeze, which I concur to.
We pack up our camp and start heading up the Throat of the World, riding our horses, occasionally stopping when we pass the Etched Tablets, plaques engraved with parts of the story of how High Hrothgar was founded.
We pass the left-curving bend where the first Tablet is, to find several people bowing, sitting on the ground, repeating the words of the First Emblem, (the first Etched Tablet), to themselves and meditating on their meaning and history.
I look from atop my horse, at the first Tablet, to where it says,
"Before the birth of men, the Dragons ruled all Mundus; Their word was the Voice, and they spoke only for True Needs; For the Voice could blot out the sky and flood the land."
The words themselves don't hold much value, but if you read all 10 emblems you'd get a blessing that repels animals for a full day in-game, so I memorize them. I don't know if that would be the same here, but I'm sure it would be similar to some degree.
After witnessing the First Emblem, Lydia shuts her eyes, and prays reverently, memorizing the words. She does this for a solid 10-15 minutes.
While she's doing that I look around to find a man resignedly hiking the mountain as well. He stops every seconds after stepping forward, as if he's having difficulty walking on a twelve degree incline.
It's Klimmek, a Nord I have to do a quest for. He's supposed to be carrying a pack that I can deliver to the Greybeards for him.
"You alright there?" I ask him.
"Huh... Huh... Hii-huuuh. " He rasps a few tired breaths out, and sits down on the ground. "T-tell you the truth, no. My... back's killing me. I've... supplies to deliver to the Greybeards, but... I don't think I'm going to be able to... make this trip."
"You mind if I take them up there for you?" I ask.
"Really?" He asks, clearly doing a lot better now. The tires look on his face disappears as he realizes that I'm willing to assist. "That'd be a real help. Just let me get up here... Urgghhh."
He leans forward, trying to heave himself up, but he doesn't make it. He tries it a few times, before trying to roll over, and push himself up from the ground. He makes it to his knees, but can't push himself up beyond that.
He can't get up. He looks at me with a resigned look on his face. "You mind, uh... Helping me up?" He reaches his arm out to me.
I dismount from my horse, and pull him up. He heaves a heavy sigh out, and shrugs a knapsack off, relieving himself of his burden. I take it and attach it to my various saddlebags on Myrmidon and feel something staring at me.
Klimmek stares at me, focusing on everything around me, from my armor and weapons to my physical features. He shivers, then mutters.
"Y'know... I'm really a lot more prideful of myself, but it's something about you... I don't know what exactly it is. It's like an aura around you, or... An air, like in the way you carry yourself. Telling by your armor, it looks like you're quite experienced in the adventurer's game."
He nods to my suit of steel armor.
"It's like you could kill me at a second's thought, but you also have in you an almost... holy light. Feels like I'm standing near a priest in a church, or rather, a paladin. That'd explain the arms and armor..."
He shivers again, looking away for a second, and his eyes dilate and lose focus, before he recollects and asserts himself. He snaps back to reality, and shoots me a tired glare.
"You gonna go then, or what?" His voice clearly shows his hostility. "If you're gonna do something for me, ain't you gonna do it? Go on, get!"
He walks away, loudly lamenting his aching back on the way back to his house.
"Eh, don't let him bother you. He's extremely proud of his self-given job of bringing food to the Greybeards. It's like being the personal courier of the Emperor in his eyes or something." A man walks up to me, outstretching his right arm, ready to shake hands.
It's a tan, red-headed Nord by the name of Bassianus Axius. I remember him from the quest, The Book of Love, where I have to matchmake him with a girl he likes from this village called Fastred. Interestingly enough, Klimmek is also a potential lover of Fastred's, although Bassianus doesn't know that Klimmek likes Fastred. Which is made even funnier, knowing that Bassianus is bunking at Klimmek's house because Bassianus is currently in-between jobs, although he does once in a while fish professionally with Klimmek, despite the fact that Bassianus isn't very good at it.
Bassianus' excuse for not showing up with fish can be summarized down to: "They just weren't biting today!". Klimmek's response to that is usually sad, saying something along the lines of: "Probably out on a date with Fastred."
I shake Bassianus' hand, and say, "My name is Drake. May I ask who you are?"
He nods to me. "Oh, yeah, yeah. Introductions, and all that. The name's Bassianus Axius. Y'see I've known Klimmek for years now. Hell, I'm eve-..."
He cuts off what he was saying, probably thinking better about it. He shivers a little, then continues. "A-anyways, I know him pretty well. Don't take his words to heart. He doesn't mean them. He's just frustrated from some recent bad fishing trips. Thinks there might something wrong with the water or something."
He raises his hands, as if backing away from it. "I don't know for sure. He's the real fisherman, not me. I only fish with him because he wanted... help getting fish for the Greybeards."
He hesitated saying the word 'wanted', which I can presume to be because he doesn't want to reveal that he doesn't have an actual job. 'It's okay, man. You ain't gotta worry about how I feel about being jobless. I was there once, too.'
"Well, thanks for telling me not to take it heart. It was nice meeting you. I've got a mountain to climb." After saying that, I take my leave, Bassianus nodding in understanding behind me. I get on my horse, and turn back to where Lydia was.
She's now on Daryon, so we make our way further up the mountain. The 7,000 stairs said to be here aren't exactly free to step on, as they're completely covered in dirt and rocks. We eventually make it to the Second Emblem, where another throng of people, this time less, has grouped up in front of the tablet, bowing, meditating, the same things as the ones from before. Hunters, poachers, and fishermen seem to dominate this group, what with their bows, traps, lures, and fishing poles.
I make my way to the Emblem (off of my horse, of course) with Lydia following, to where the etched tablet sits embedded in a large boulder. Offerings of lavender flowers and gold sit in front of the tablet. Small cairns on the sides of it are capped with lit candles, their flames dancing calmly in place despite the blowing wind.
The Emblem itself reads, "Men were born and spread over the face of Mundus; The Dragons presided over the crawling masses; Men were weak then, and had no Voice."
I memorize it, and continue up the mountain, after once again waiting for Lydia to finish praying. The temperature drops even further, and snow starts to fall, albeit lightly. We don our cloaks, and continue up the path, where it curves around a large bend in the mountain. Following the path, we pass mountains to our left, our south side, and we come up upon the Third Emblem.
Not many people are around this one, only a few adventurers, praying and meditating in a kneeling position or sitting legs crossed. We dismount once again to see the words emblazoned on the plaque. Offerings of a dragon's tongue flower sits in front of it, with three gold coins beside them.
The Third etched tablet reads, "The fledgling spirits of Men were strong in Old Times; Unafraid to war with Dragons and their Voices; But the Dragons only shouted them down and broke their hearts."
We mount our horses, and continue on, where we eventually find ourselves at the Fourth Emblem. No offerings were here. Nobody is here at this one, and we do the same with this as with the others: dismount, read it, memorize it, mount, continue on.
The Fourth Emblem reads, "Kyne called on Paarthurnax, who pitied Man; Together they taught Men to use the Voice; Then Dragon War raged, Dragon against Tongue."
After continuing up the mountain, the temperature continues to drop, while the wind continues to blow, lightly at first, but gradually getting harder. Then I see it, roughly a hundred meters ahead of us.
I stop Myrmidon and raise my fist, halting Lydia.
"What is it?" She asks, curious as to why we've stopped. She doesn't know, and I don't have the heart to tell her.
"Looks like a perfect spot for an ambush. Something's off." I say instead, gesturing for us to dismount. We get off our horses, and I tie the horses' bridles to a stake I place in the ground.
It's a place where one of the strongest of beings lives. A small ravine, covered in blood-spattered snow. This is one of the most-hated spots in all of Tamriel for Skyrim players. Why, you might ask?
This is the spawn location, and starting position, for a troll. Now, trolls in other games tend follow the same specific route; i.e. fat, (nearly) hairless, and ugly giants that use clubs or bare hands to attack. Stinky loincloth, high health regeneration, the whole bit. And for the previous game in the Elder Scrolls games, Oblivion, that's spot on as to what a troll is.
But for Skyrim? No, no, no. Skyrim is different from that. Skyrim is better.
Skyrim has it's own trolls: three-eyed, three-clawed, hairy, elephant-like footed, ape-ish monsters with high health regeneration. They come in two types, the forest troll and the frost troll. The forest troll is a troll found in lower altitudes and the forested southern parts of Skyrim. They have brown and mossy-green colored fur. The frost troll on the other hand, is much stronger, much bigger, and much more vicious than it's forest troll cousin. Their fur is also white-colored. In exchange for their increased strength, they suffer more damage from fire, which does little in comparison to their much higher health regeneration.
The troll up ahead of me? It's a frost troll. And it's at least level 12. Not very high, but when you're killing Mirmulnir at level 6 or 8... It's terrible. Of course, the obvious choice in relation to fighting it is to come back at a higher level. But it feels almost... like a rite of passage of sorts, for all veteran Skyrim players. Gotta die to the troll up there at least once every run, for the nostalgia of that first run. And if you somehow manage to kill it at level 3 or 4, or whatever low level you are, you are rightfully deserving of respect.
A field of snow decks the hill to our right, inclining up the Throat of the World. I guide Lydia up it quietly, and around to the ravine, to where she can see the blood-spatter all over the snow, and that stupid troll,... dead? There's no breathing noises or anything, so I have to assume I'm right and it's not hiding beneath the ledge.
'What? It's dead? Why is it dead? Who killed it? How'd they kill it?' I climb down from the ravine's ledge, and drop into the trolls' lair. It's less of a lair, and more like a crevice that troll used as a small hideout.
What I find inside is not a pretty sight. Blood is everywhere, from the snow to the dirt, to the walls and the ceiling. Crimson icicles stick out from cracks in the ceiling pointing to what's below - piles of bones, and a small hole filled to the brim with intestines and various organs. Livers, lungs, hearts. I'd say they were frozen but that's not entirely true. The wind blowing in dries and freezes the blood mostly, but the most recent kills line the walls.
Bodies of at least three people are still intact, one being that of a child. I turn my eyes away and my breath catches up to me. Something this grim and ghastly... It definitely was the troll.
Snow falls from the protruding ledge above as Lydia drops into the ravine. She lands beautifully, almost like a superhero, when she lands in a crouch.
She looks up and takes in the sight of the corpses and the slaughter. Her face blanches, and she starts to gag. She makes retching noises and I rush to her side.
"Whoa, c'mon, look away, let's go over here." I say, catching her as she starts to swoon, from a probable combination of disgust, shock, disbelief, and horror.
I guide her out of the ravine, her arm around my neck. She stumbles, right before pushing me away, falling to her knees, and puking into the snow. I cast Healing on her as she finishes puking, and starts to retch again. Tears slide down her cheeks, and she tries taking deep breaths to stop herself.
When she stops puking and retching, she sits up on her knees, looking up at me for a few seconds. She wipes the puke on her face off with some snow, before turning away, and I reach out a hand offering help up. She looks at my hand, not taking it, and instead, her voice creaks out, shattered and broken.
"Wh-...? Why di-... didn't you... warn me?" She looks down, to her hands and starts shivering. Tears fall from her brown "That... was terrible. Please..."
She looks up at me again, this time her voice strong and confident. "Do not make go in there again."
I nod. "I'm sorry. You don't have to follow me in there. I'll take you back to Daryon, okay? I'll bring you around the ravine, and we can go on from there."
She nods, and tries to stand up. Her knees wobble, still weak, and she falls to the ground again. She gasps out, her breath clearly showing how emotionally distraught she really is, and she whispers something, looking to the earth.
I can't hear her through the wind. I kneel down to where she is. "I'm sorry? I couldn't hear you. Could you repeat yourself?"
She looks into my eyes, then pulls my head closer, her left hand wrapped around my jaw, her right at the back of my head. She whispers again, this time into my left ear.
"I n-need you to c-carry me. I c-can't s-stand up." Her humid, warm breath heats up my ear, and the wind blows a little bit harder, freezing my ear immediately. She pulls my head back a little bit to see my reaction.
I nod, and she pulls me forward again, her arms wrapping around my shoulders. She can't get on my back because of my backpack as it's in the way, so she pulls herself forward, sitting herself onto my raised knee. I grab her thighs and lean backwards, pushing up with my knee. Once I get completely up, she wraps her legs around my waist too, and I start walking to where are horses are tied up.
Despite the seriousness of the situation, my thoughts turn dirty, because of the rubbing sensation I keep feeling on my groin, the part where Lydia has her midsection wrapped around. How disgusting am I? How can I go from a literal slaughter to thinking of snu-snu?
A lot of questions were asked in my head on the snow-covered ground over to the horses, and none of them were good. I didn't intentionally think of them because I wanted to, but because of the obvious... situation we were in.
When we get to the horses, Lydia disconnects from me, and is able to stand on her own, albeit woozily and swaying. I princess-carry her up and load her onto Daryon's saddle, and I mount Myrmidon, guiding her and Daryon forward by tying Daryon's lead to the back of Myrmidon's saddle strings.
Lydia leans forward on Daryon's neck, and he walks onward stoutly. We go up the hill we used to get up to the top of the ravine from before, and around, to where the Fifth Emblem is sitting. I help Lydia off of Daryon, and sit her in front of the offerings there. Somehow the wind is strong enough to displace Lydia's voice but isn't strong enough to blow away the frozen offerings sitting beside it.
"You sit here," I start, "I'm going to figure out how that troll died." I take off my backpack and set it in front of her, so that the wind doesn't bother her. A wave of cold air hits my back and I'm reminded of the fact that I need to get more armor, or rather, a proper set of inlining for my armor. A chainmail hauberk, a gambeson, an arming cap, and leggings. Long underwear, and a thin tunic all of it will go over. Ulfberth recommended it to me earlier a few days ago, but I hadn't thought much of it at the time.
Because of the waves of cold I'm feeling, I equip my snow bear greatcloak, wrapping it over my armor. The white-furred head of the cloak goes over mine like a hood, and the arms of it wrap around my vambraces like special sleeves that you have to tie the sides together with. The rest of the cloak hangs around my body, the lining inside filled with black leather.
I head over to the ravine and look for the corpse of the troll. I trace my hands over the wounds and try to imagine the movements of the killer and their weapons. It has these massive chops on the limbs that could only come from an axe. The other cuts on it are longer and thinner, resembling a sword of some kind. Small red-glowing bolts stick out of the troll's body, in various locations. On the edges of both of types of wounds are charred patches of fur. The visible muscle mass on the troll's furless stomach and face clearly show that it's not a weak creature in the slightest.
Charred flesh? Probably an enchanted weapon. If it wasn't, then the wound would've been stopped from healing using a fire related Destruction spell, like Flames, Firebolt, or Fireball. However, those would leave marks, much bigger than this simples killing. There'd be ash and soot everywhere, and nowhere near as much of this troll would be left.
I dip my fingers into a few of the wounds, cleaning my hand with some snow. Still warm. Whatever, or rather whoever, killed this troll killed it recently.
I look around checking to see if I could find anything else. A green liquid on one of the stone walls, despite the blood surrounding it. It's just barely visible, having run down the walls, and pooled at the bottom.
A stamina potion? I move closer and see the shattered glass at the bottom of the wall. Someone must've thrown their emptied stamina potion here. Or they could've been thrown into the wall the same way I did back in Bleak Falls Barrow.
In any case, now I have more information on who killed it, so I head back to Lydia. By now, the wind is probably getting difficult to deal with, at least in relation to keeping warm. I pick up my pace as I see that she's attempting to put up a tent, close to the side of the mountain, out of the wind. In this weather, it's better to just share a tent, as it looks like the weather's only going to get worse from now on, and it's getting dark already, what with what looks to be a potential blizzard on it's way in. Except... She can't. Her hands keep twitching and dropping everything she picks up.
"Here," I say, coming to her side and trying to help her. "Let me help you."
"No!" She snaps, with a fearful, but brave, gaze. "I-I need to keep busy, I h-have to do s-something. If I stop... Oh, Shor..." She starts to retch.
"Come here." I wrap her into a hug, and sway from side to side. She accepts the hug, but keeps her arms close to her chest. "It's okay. It's okay. It's okay." I try comforting her, and help her calm down.
"No... No. No! It's not okay!" She shakes her head, and pushes me away a bit, but not too far or hard. Her eyes tear up as she continues. "W-what was that?! Most t-trolls aren't that violent! All those people-...! THERE WAS A CHILD!! How...? Why? Why are you okay?! Why a-am I...? An-and you...?"
The horrified look on her face only grows as she remembers the scene from earlier. She clearly has realized that I didn't feel anything at the sight of the slaughter from before.
I simply shake my head. I can't tell her. I can't tell that I don't feel anything when witnessing a slaughter. If anything, I want more of one to occur when I see one. Wait... Is this the influence from Sithis? If Sithis is the one that brought me to this world, was he the one that made me heartless and cruel? I have many things to thank him for, but it's starting to look like I have more to hate him for.
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry I couldn't tell you, I'm sorry I couldn't warn you. What happened there should never have happened, but it's too late by now to stop it. Someone already has. All we can do now is to send the dead off right." I apologize and comfort her again.
She shakes her head, and rubs her temples with her gauntleted hands. "I-I can't... think! Right now. My head hurts. I have to do something." The stress and horror on her face starts to disappear, as she picks up more pieces of the tent.
I help her set up the tent, and we bring our stuff to rest inside. We set up the bedrolls, spreading them out around the inside, and I get the horses ready for them to sleep as well. I wrap a different tent around them both as a horse blanket and better cover from the storm brewing outside, as it looks like the weather will get colder from here on.
I set their large bags of feed and waterskins right where they're able to reach them: hanging off of the face of a boulder nearby. Hopefully, they won't freeze overnight.
I head back inside the tent, to see Lydia unarmored, but wrapped in furs, in the light of a lantern she was carrying with her. She's sitting with her knees to her chin, and she's nibbling on her finger, and rocking back and forth. Her eyes are wide, focusing on every little thing, and her lips tremble.
I take off my armor and weapons, and set them to the side. As I pull off my steel armor, I notice Lydia's eyes flicking to my body as my armor catches my tunic, lifting it up, and showing skin.
Some gears are clearly ticking inside her head as her face switches to a softer, but determined, look. Her jaw sets, and clenches, and she stops swaying, before crawling over to me. I'm still standing up, so I'm looking down to her.
She stands to her feet, and the furs drop, revealing that she's just wearing her tunic. My eyes immediately avert her body the second they fall, switching lanes to her face, although I will admit, my eyes did glance back down once or twice.
"Are you okay now?" I ask, reaching out for her shoulders.
"No." She shakes her head. Her eyes fall to my chest. One of her arms folds into the other, grabbing her elbow, and she continues. "Could... Could you... hug me?"
I sigh, not out of reluctancy, but out of relief. The fact that she's willing to be hugged means that she's making progress in accepting what she saw, and equatably, being comforted in the midst of it. I open my arms wide and pull her in. "Here."
She reaches her arms out and practically dives into me. I end up falling backwards, landing on my butt. I start to laugh a little. 'That was hella cute.'
I smile at her, and she nuzzles her head into my shoulder. Suddenly I got flashbacks to Jenassa, freezing me, and killing my laughter. My happiness at Lydia's cuteness, despite her current mood, starts to dry up.
My sudden numbness to the hug makes Lydia question something, but I couldn't make it out, as her mouth was still buried in my chest.
"Hmm? Sorry?" I whisper.
She lifts her head up. "I said, 'Why did you stop laughing?' Keep laughing. It... cheers me up." She shyly looks away as she says the last part.
At that, I smile, and a quick puff out from my nose in an exhale releases. Why am I even thinking of Jenassa? I've got more important worries in front of me. Namely, Lydia.
Lydia looks up to me with pleading eyes, silently urging me to continue laughing and to lift her spirits. But as I look into her eyes, I can see the pain and trauma of today's horrors etched into her face, and I can't manage to work up much more laughter that I haven't already laughed. I take a deep breath, and pull her closer, tighter, and stronger than before. She buries her face in my chest again, and further this time. I can hear her taking deep breaths through her nose, inhaling in my pheromones, and warming my chest further.
"I'm sorry, Lydia," I whisper into her ear, "I wish I could make everything better."
She pulls her head out of my chest, her cheeks glistening with dried tears, her mouth slightly open, and I feel a sudden urge to kiss her. I don't, no, I can't, even think about it as I lean in and capture her lips with my own, feeling the warmth, the softness of her mouth against mine. At first, she's hesitant and unsure, but as I deepen the kiss, reaching further into her mouth with my tongue, she responds eagerly, her tongue challenging itself to meet mine.
We break apart for a second, each of us gasping for breath, and I feel heat building between us. I take her waist in one hand, and push us up with the other, her sitting directly on top of my lap.
My heart's beating crazily. I'm not exactly sure where this might bring our relationship, but I know that I can at least try to offer her some relative comfort and distraction from the horrors of the world outside our tent, sitting not that far away.
Our eyes meet, and then our mouths do as well.
------------------
Funds: 1,004 septims
Weapons:
💠 - Orcish Sword of Paralysis
💠 - Blade of Whiterun (Ebony longsword, 3rd Era, 10 points Frost damage/5 to Stamina/ slow)
💠 - Quicksilver Throwing Knives {x5}
💠 - Nordic Daggers {x2}
- Elven Bow, Unstrung {x12 Elven Arrows, 1x Ayleid Arrow}
- Orcish Sword
Apparel:
💠 - Refurbished Steel Helm (15% more armor)
💠 - Steel Armor (HP Regen. Injury Heal Rate 25%↑, Light Wound Heal 50%↑)
💠 - Spiked Steel Gauntlets (+20 extra H2H damage)
💠 - Refitted Steel Boots (15% more armor)
💠 - Custom Quicksilver buckler (18% more armor)
💠 - Winter Cloak (20% Cold Resistance)
💠 - Snow Bear Greatcloak (50% Cold Resistance)
- Shield of the Dragonslayer (Kite, 40% Fire Resistance)
Potions:
- Mysterious Potion {x4}
Food:
- Basket of Fruits and Vegetables; {onions x2, apples x8, leeks x2, potatoes x4, head of cabbage x1, carrots x3, loaves of bread x2}
Books:
- Stack of Stormcloak notes and letters to family {x15}
- Letter to Thrynn & Torturer's Ring
- Spell Tome: Sparks
- Spell Tome: Oakflesh
Scrolls:
- Scroll of Blizzard
Supplies:
- Backpack
- Bedroll / Mountain Bedroll
- Cooking pan
- Waterskin
- Metal Bowl
- Torches {x3}
- Tent
- Pitons
- Climbing harness
- Rope (200 ft.)
- Hiking Staves {x2}
- Ice Picks {x2}
- Bar of Soap
Miscellaneous:
- Lockpicks {x1}
- Vial for Mysterious Potion
- Golden Claw
- Potion bottle remains