Lion of the North, Loup de la Mort

This is a roleplay blog for two Skyrim characters.
Characters are:
//Aldirhon (Sizaan) Leontios: Normal text
//Cinead (Shai'a'in) Moorhart: Bold text
(Other characters may appear occasionally)

serpentandapostate:

lionandlady:

serpentandapostate:

lionandlady:

Yes, I know.

And yet again, you are correct. It is not a good one.

It’s rather rare that I am not correct, so I suppose I can accept making a slip-up now and then.

Oh, everyone must slip a little. At least you are wise enough to realize your mistake.

And humble, also. [his expression is deadpan]

[He keeps his face just as straight]

You know, if I didn’t know you better, I’d think you were joking.

(Source: thewerebeasts, via bitter-wormwood)

mirridtheargonian replied to your post: HEY

[[REVIVAL ALL OVER THE PLACE.]]

[[HEHEH yeah i see that welcome back unu]]

HEY

so i have no idea how many of you follow this anymore

but uh

I’m bringing ‘em back

sort of

update to

(if you’d like you can reblog this as a get-this-out-there thing?)

tiedtotheforsworn:

lionandlady:

He blinked once, mind reaching for something to end this line of conversation. Not everyone needed to know what a busy Nightingale was up to, “I ah- My.. contractor was very specific.”

“Con… tactror?” He blinked, and then tilted his head. “Why?” He didn’t know what that was, or what ‘Zaan did for a living, so he became both very curious and a little confused.

"The person who hired me to do the job that I have done." He shakes his head shortly, "It’s not important, Remi."

(Source: thewerebeasts, via redoubtsandrainbows-deactivated)

tiedtotheforsworn:

lionandlady:

tiedtotheforsworn:

lionandlady:

‘Zaan squeezed him tight for just a moment long before setting him down upon the ground. He nodded once, shortly, “I missed you too. I’m sorry. I’ve been busy in Solitude.”

“Is okay, ‘Zaan!” He said, seeming quite pleased to simply see him, and glad that he was given such a good hug. 

“What ‘Zaan is doing in Solitude?”

The mer ruffles the shorter male’s hair for a moment, stretches, and yawns before answering, “I live there. I was doing.. a very specific task for someone. It required not leaving the city for some time.”

“Oh. Why?” He asked with a curious smile. If ‘Zaan didn’t nip this in the bud, he’d have Rémi asking that about everything he said.

He blinked once, mind reaching for something to end this line of conversation. Not everyone needed to know what a busy Nightingale was up to, “I ah- My.. contractor was very specific.”

(Source: thewerebeasts, via redoubtsandrainbows-deactivated)

Talk and Tea [Iolar and Wenselyr]

archerandmage:

lionandlady:

Iolar caught the expression, not sure, in all honesty, if he imagined it. Ah, well. No reason to question it. He, himself was not too excessively clothed, actually- there was merely a heavy, hooded cloak thrown over what, today, was a simple and yet still quite elegant shirt tucked into dark trousers. He is sensitive to temperature, but it is more that the cold makes him lethargic and slow moving, and heat- well, nobody really wanted to have to deal with the poor mer then. Oddly enough, though, he was barefoot, tanned gold feet obviously the reason his steps were so quiet.

He unclasped the cloak before he settled into a spot near the fire- a polite distance between himself and the frost mage, “All of those things are noted then, Cryomancer Wenselyr,” The words are said with just the barest curl at the corner of his lips. After pulling out his book, he folds his cloak over and tosses it over his lap, settling more comfortably.

He smiled again, more obviously, but not at Iolar in particular. Good- his estimation of Iolar’s skill as a mage was well founded, if he too was able to pinpoint Wenselyr’s own specialty. He is beginning to like Iolar- they seem to be of the same mind so far. When Iolar pulled out his book, Wenselyr’s attention was caught immediately, and he glanced over at his new companion.

Eyeing the book with curiosity for a moment, Wenselyr turned back to the fire and the tea. “What are you reading? Pardon the curiosity, I am something of a collector of books, both common and rare.” He paused a moment, then politely, “And why, if I may ask, are you without shoes? In weather such as this, that behavior is generally the purview of those who cannot afford them.”

The green-eyed mer nods once, strokes his fingers over the unmarked front of the book gently, something in the movement akin to a handshake between newly made acquaintances, “It is a book on the latest theories on… Inventive uses for shock magics. It is, so far, untitled- I am reviewing it, you see, for the writer.”

The mer’s mouth curls just slightly again, “I have a preference for barefootedness, is all, Cryomance Wenselyr.” He wiggles his toes experimentally, seemingly unbothered by the cold

(Source: thewerebeasts)

tiedtotheforsworn:

lionandlady:

tiedtotheforsworn replied to your post: “‘Zaaaan!” Rémi ran up to the mer, bouncing happily and bapping him on the chest.

Rémi squealed happily, gripping to ‘Zaan’s arms and then giving a grin. “Hallo!! Rémi miss ‘Zaan! is not see long time!”

‘Zaan squeezed him tight for just a moment long before setting him down upon the ground. He nodded once, shortly, “I missed you too. I’m sorry. I’ve been busy in Solitude.”

“Is okay, ‘Zaan!” He said, seeming quite pleased to simply see him, and glad that he was given such a good hug. 

“What ‘Zaan is doing in Solitude?”

The mer ruffles the shorter male’s hair for a moment, stretches, and yawns before answering, “I live there. I was doing.. a very specific task for someone. It required not leaving the city for some time.”

(Source: thewerebeasts, via redoubtsandrainbows-deactivated)

tiedtotheforsworn replied to your post: “‘Zaaaan!” Rémi ran up to the mer, bouncing happily and bapping him on the chest.

Rémi squealed happily, gripping to ‘Zaan’s arms and then giving a grin. “Hallo!! Rémi miss ‘Zaan! is not see long time!”

'Zaan squeezed him tight for just a moment long before setting him down upon the ground. He nodded once, shortly, “I missed you too. I'm sorry. I've been busy in Solitude.”

redoubtsandrainbows-deactivated said: "'Zaaaan!" Rémi ran up to the mer, bouncing happily and bapping him on the chest.

The lion-mer’s face split into a wide grin, and he leaned down just enough to fasten his arms around Remi and lift, spinning the Forsworn into a hug, “Ello there!”

caiomeide started following you

caiomeide:

lionandlady:

The half-Nord stops, cocks his head over his shoulder and turns lazily to face her.

“You need somezhing…?”

“Huh?” Caiomeide raises her brow, regarding him with otherwise unreadable calmness. She actually hadn’t realized he was there. 

“Yeah, sure. Uh… I was actually looking to have a blade repaired. I sort of broke it over someone’s helmet, the break is pretty clean.” Well, she wasn’t lying. She took out a bundle delicately from her satchel and presented it on the workbench.

He turns and nods slightly. Strange that she should not notice someone of his size, or so he thought. Long, strong fingers unwrapped the bundle with a rather unusually gentleness, and rough, calloused hands lifted each piece of the blade closer to eye level, a quick and cursory examination only a few seconds long.

"Ah, yes-" Another quick nod, "I can have it ready by this time tomorrow, I do believe. In fact, I don’t have anything on the table now- it may be much sooner than that."

(Source: thewerebeasts, via flowersandwarhammers-deactivate)

rolls back into the shipyard

oh my god

someone care to rp?

caiomeide started following you

The half-Nord stops, cocks his head over his shoulder and turns lazily to face her.

"You need somezhing…?"

Amputatio.

lizardchampion:

‘Tail really hates it when nights like these roll around. No one’s home. Baurus is with Kabel and Sar and Roar is off working and Azzy is probably running around somewhere being silly. One con to living out of Whiterun. He can’t bother Sings, either. ‘Tail is bored out of his mind. That’s not why he hates these kinds of nights, but he’ll pretend. Maybe some mead will make things more interesting. Cracking open a few bottles won’t be too bad, he won’t drink too much.

Maybe. Depends.

His tail is twitching again. Unsure of whether it’s anxiety or agitation, he comes to a halt in front of the wooden door of the modest house outside Riverwood. Ginger had pointed him this way the last time ‘Zaan had asked where he lived now, and ‘Zaan had decided it was time for a visit

Even if he did have a bit of an ulterior motive.

He raps his knuckles against the door an waits, tapping the toe of his boot to the ground anxiously.

The Night Will Always Win

serpentandapostate:

lionandlady:

The jerkiness doesn’t even coax more that the tiniest squint at the corner of his eye, and the hoarseness in Ioannes’ voice makes him gesture quickly and vaguely- a cover-up for the resurgence of some remnant of his disappointment.

The needle he sees out of the corner of his eye, but he does not look at it. There is a moment when he considers saying something, but he decides against it. Instead he walks over to the bookshelf on Ioannes’ other side, passing close enough to feel the heat radiating off of the Conjurer’s skin- then again, he and other electromancers in his family had always been extremely sensitive to temperature, in particular heat. He reminds himself of this in attempt to disguise his worry, even from himself.

His eye is on the bookcase now, and his answer is as simple as, “I came to see you, is all. I wanted to see how you were.”

“Why?” His voice is still quiet, but it’s also sharp, aggressive, bitter. Angry and directionless. He twists his head round to stare his visitor right in the eye, something he almost never does. Eye contact is verboten, with him, something to be avoided at all costs and he makes it now because his eyes are still dead. His pupils are widely dilated and reflective and the light hurts but he doesn’t care.

He stays silent and watchful. Challenging, even, waiting for a response, waiting for an excuse to be snappish and cruel, waiting to have to be the one to deliver the news and hoping desperately he won’t even have to mention it.

The tone of Ioannes’ voice practically singes the hairs of Aldirhon’s ear, causes the accursed tail to flick once, in agitation perhaps. His eye turns to that dead stare. The book in his hands (Where had that even come from?) he sets upon the shelf, and with a grace-filled twist ironically feline-like, he turns to lean against the shelf instead, not breaking the eye contact with so much as a blink.

Anyone else might have been unnerved. In truth, even he was a little unnerved. But that flat stare is something familiar to him. He has seen it on other friends, on enemies, seen it accompany a last gasp of breath from someone whose name he never knew. Ioannes is rude, mannerless and perhaps even cruel at worst- but it’s unlike him to be so snappish at Aldirhon. His questions are always demands but this is more like something akin to an attack, a lash out against the world.

"Why? Because you are my friend- or so I consider you." At last he blinks just once, and asks that dreaded question, "What has got you so out of sorts, beau..?"

(Source: bitter-wormwood, via bitter-wormwood)

The Night Will Always Win

serpentandapostate:

The voice rouses him from a stupor he’d never admit and he almost starts up from where he’d seated himself. Not quite enough control yet for quick standing and he sinks back down again, movements a peculiar mix of jerky and fluid langor.

“What?” His voice is hoarse, unused for days. He hasn’t even been talking to himself now.

He knows there’s no way his lingering half-euphoria will escape notice. Even if the sick sweet smell of the drug hadn’t stuck around, there was the still-hot skin, obscenely dilated pupils, the needle left out, half-hiding in its box.

He hadn’t cared enough. He was perfectly aware that Aldhiron knew. He was no fool. But this was not supposed to happen. Another thing that wasn’t supposed to happen, and renewed awareness of the dragging, bottomless pit occupying the place where his stomach should have been. 

“What?”

The jerkiness doesn’t even coax more that the tiniest squint at the corner of his eye, and the hoarseness in Ioannes’ voice makes him gesture quickly and vaguely- a cover-up for the resurgence of some remnant of his disappointment.

The needle he sees out of the corner of his eye, but he does not look at it. There is a moment when he considers saying something, but he decides against it. Instead he walks over to the bookshelf on Ioannes’ other side, passing close enough to feel the heat radiating off of the Conjurer’s skin- then again, he and other electromancers in his family had always been extremely sensitive to temperature, in particular heat. He reminds himself of this in attempt to disguise his worry, even from himself.

His eye is on the bookcase now, and his answer is as simple as, “I came to see you, is all. I wanted to see how you were.”

(Source: bitter-wormwood, via bitter-wormwood)