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orfeoarte · 7 months

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WIP Whenever!

I've been SICK, and SCARED, and working on my thesis. My country is falling apart and so is my body. Let's party!

Tagged by @mareenavee @boethiahspillowbook @throughtrialbyfire and many more over the weeks. sorry, i love you!

tagging @drowsy-fantasy @changelingsandothernonsense @paraparadigm @polypolymorph @kookaburra1701 @elfinismsarts @thequeenofthewinter @tallmatcha @thana-topsy @saltymaplesyrup @archangelsunited @inquisition-dragonborn @gilgamish @snippetsrus @rainpebble3 @rhiannon1199 @skyrim-forever @caliblorn @sephirajo @thalwhore @dunmer @gortrash @dirty-bosmer @thescrolls-haveforetold @marimomoth @elavoria and the girl (gender neutral) reading this! feel free not to do your own, feel free to tag me when you do your own!

Have some Saathel being a little shit

Silence embraced the pair like a foggy blanket in the cold air, dew coalescing minimally into suspended crystals stinging their faces with an adder's mettle.

Faendal flinched, sinking into himself. Unlike Saathel, he wasn't all too dressed for the weather.

"C'mere, fur is large enough."

He was unlikely to accept the kindness she had decided to extend, unlikelier to even look past her ill-fitting furs and decide he could nest in their warmth; but he did.

"They don't like our sort 'round here," Saathel started, moving to a side so he could cover himself with her cloak.

"You don't say," Faendal snorted, blowing warm air into his hands and rubbing them together.

"Mmh-hmm, and I wanna make them hate me."

His amber eyes went dark, almost lifeless for a second. It scared Saathel how eerily similar he looked to that mare she had killed earlier. Like an open flame, it spread; she knew the name of the emotion that tangled with her thoughts when death and the waking world mingled in such a way. The bruise on his face was already an angry red.

He shook his head. "Not a good idea. If they hate you, they'll do anything to make you feel unwelcome. Trust me."

If she looked at it enough, there was a thread begging to be pulled there. One of history, ready to see the light. Just a question was required, and Saathel was drunk enough to pry: "Sounds like experience."

His expression continued on its darkened course. Anything to see it lighten, anything but the touch of a mage.

"Well, I made myself an enemy. Sven, the bard in there—" Saathel interrupted him with a too-tardy smirk, gesturing her hands along.

"Nord plucking the strings like he's fingerin' a lass?"

A loud snort, more giggles shared under that pelt. Sometimes beating up a stranger was a good conversation starter.

"Y— Hah! Don't say it like that. I'd rather not have to picture that." Once Faendal could calm his breathing down, he sighed, shook his head, and continued. "We fancy the same woman, Camilla. He's made my life here miserable ever since I started courting her."

An owl passed soundlessly over their heads, the night hunter casting a shadow on them when its wings hid the moon. Saathel grinned. Inspired by its flight, she too could be silent and deadly.

"Court her harder and better. Or set him up for failure."

She didn't even need to suggest that, apparently. Faendal's eyes glittered, alight with energy and scheming once more. To be in pursuit of one's desires�� always, the sweetest part of the hunt is the chase itself. She knew that to be true even when dealing with heart-hunts. For his part, Faendal looked to agree.

He wet his lips, cast a glance towards the dying lights of the tavern, and smirked.

"Think you could help me with that?"

[...]

If there was something Saathel loved, it was sticking her nose in matters that were firmly none of her business.

#writeblr #fanficblr #tes fanfic #tesblr #oc: saathel #bosmer #faendal #skyrim fanfiction #skyrim oc #skyrim #WIGGLES im back? maybe?#my writing

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