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"And then I took an arrow to the leg..." [NF & MT]

Lorelle watched him as he recounted his own hardships. Yes, perhaps she had spoke too soon. It must have been hard being in foreign lands where the people were widely terrified of him. Not everyone shared her interest, not all towns were much better than her own. Her face softened slightly and she gave him a gentle smile by means of apology. She tried not to respond as he spoke of tender words and kisses. Those were all things she desired as well, but it was not something she ever thought she would be able to obtain. When he turned topics to the book however, basically chastising her for reading them instead of finding someone who could do those things for her she looked back at him with a soft of surprise. But then he said it. That gooddamn question. The golden question. What was keeping her here, what shame, what sins, why.

She looked away from him and allowed that shame to come over her face. She couldn't even will herself to meet his eyes, not as he stood above her, not as he sat. She nibbled on her bottom lip anxiously and her fingertips slowly strummed the table. Other than that she was silent for a moment as she gathered herself.

She had not expected that question. She had not anticipated the intensity of which he spoke it in. It basically reached into her chest and pulled out her heart. It struck her in a place deep down within her. It was just the right question that caused her walls to crumble... just slightly.

"You would not understand." She dismissed it right as he thought he may have made a breakthrough of some kind with her. She finally met his eyes. She wore Lorelle's eyes no longer, the eyes she wore were sad and distant, tired from carrying a hidden weight. "It is not something I wish to discuss."
 
He saw something of himself in those eyes. Far from home carrying a weight that mortal shoulders weren't supposed to carry.

"You carry a pain beyond your years. I will not pry, because some burdens we carry alone. But - should you wish to come with me to Solitude, I would gladly show you the sea. Granted, a colder, greyer one than I am used to but still the sea. I would also welcome your company. You're quick-witted, kind, and having a local around makes a lot of things easier. My own people tend towards roaming, wandering, and exploring. Your lands are like you - wild and beautiful, and there will always be plenty of time to see them, my sweet, plenty of time."

He crow-barred the Argonian Maid line awkwardly into what was an otherwise sincere offer. It made him cringe inwardly, but the conversation needed to move somewhere a little less... painful. He stood taking a deep breath and turned his attention back to her humble abode.

"But! Those are decisions for another day. I had planned on painting your house a nice, vibrant red, or perhaps this midnight blue. Do you have a preference? The Yokudan way is to be bold in all things, and that extends to houses. My own was lime green."
 
The young woman watched him from the tops of her eyes, her head angled down at the table as he spoke. She offered him no response but took his offer in silence, and his compliments.He dropped the topic and she release a breath of release. She feared many things in the outside world, things that Kellen might not anticipate. The thing she feared most at this point was him himself. But he didn't realize that yet. It was best that he never did.

She finally looked up at him as he switched topics to the house, and what color to paint it. A smile slid on her lips and she stood. "I believe red would be fitting." She agreed with him aloud. While she spoke she moved to the cooking pot and pulled two cups off of the shelf. She ladeled out some tea for both of them and moved to set them on the table. They would need time to cool and he was busy, but it would be there when he was ready.

Her eyes found his back again and she had to take a moment to appreciate it. She was silent as she studied it but finally moved to look upon her bookshelf, her greatest treasure. She cleared her throat to denote that she was about to speak before continuing. The darkness of the moment beforehand had finally faded away.

"For what it is worth to you, if I were to choose a husband, I would want him to be like you. You would make any woman proud." She offered him a friendly smile. "Plus, you're easy to talk to when you don't look like you're going to kill me."

That last part was mostly a tease.
 
"When have I looked like I'm going to kill you?!" he turned around, and did his absolute best to look murderously fierce. His face normally looked severe, and as he narrowed his eyes into a scowl, pulled his lips back and held his arms in a loose approximation of a combat stance (meaning that he rippled and flexed in all the right places).

He could feel the ivory claws stirring deep within him. Time to lock it down. Not now. The idea of giving in to that darkness was... no. Not here. Not worth the thought.

He couldn't maintain his 'war-face' for long when faced with her smiling, open face. Besides, the idea of taking her as a wife was all together too appealing. Little Nordguard babies; that'd really shock the locals. And the idea made him laugh out loud. And, depending on where she was looking, it had other effects on him as well.

He slipped his shirt and make-shift poncho-shawl back on, and took the paint. It was foul-smelling and slimy, but it was all the locals had.

"You know that they'll talk about you if we do this. I mean, you've got the barbarian outlander painting your house. They'll probably assume you're some kind of wicked sorceress or seductress. But then - if you could do that, it'd make me wonder why all you had me do was paint your house, rather than slay your foes or avenge any slights."
 
When he asked that question and turned to look at her with his most fierce expression, she pursed her lips and raised a brow. Being intimidating would work a lot better for him if she didn't find it mildly arousing. Not to be confused, she was scared of him... but that fear only aroused her more. She watched the flexing of his muscles, looking up and down his body a moment. That's when she noticed him grow hard in his trousers just in time for him to pull his blanket back on.

She turned to watch him, eyes dim with a secret desire as he went on about paint, barbarians and the such. She really paid it no mind as her mind was not there! "MMhm..." Was all he got out of her as she watched him go. God, he was such a sexy creature. But marriage for her was impossible and the two of them would be.... well she wasn't sure how that would work. Would his brothers not frown upon him for marrying a nord? It really wasn't worth the thought.

"Be careful, tea is on the table." She told him with a dismissive wave of her hand. As he went out to paint she moved to the chest next to her bed, kneeling down and opening it so she could dig for a change of clothes. She pulled out a large white nightgown and set it on her bed. The door shut behind him as he left to paint. Now alone she took the chance to go to one of the open windows, it was away from where he should be so she was not concerned about his presence. Two of the three birds that had scattered earlier flew to and landed on her hand. She pulled them into the cabin and smiled as she gently scritched their heads. They chirped cheerfully before flying off of her hand and back out of the window. Once they were gone she looked at the door to make sure he was not nearby and then retreated inside.

She took the moment alone to then change her clothes. She slid the long red dress off of her slender body and over her head, letting her breasts bounce freely in the open air. They were perfectly shaped with a prominent freckle near her right aereola. She dropped the dress on top of her chest and pulled on the white nightgown next. It fell to her ankles, somewhat wavy around her and looked quite innocent. In a way, it matched her. Once it was on she reached up to untie her hair and let it fall around her freely. She sighed softly, it always felt good to let her long hair down. She brushed through it with her fingers once before laying in bed.

She grabbed a book off of her nightstand, THe Gentlman's Guide to Skyrim, and relaxed into her bed to read while Kellen was out painting the house. It was kind of nice having a man around. She definitely never would have painted the house on her own.
 
It had been an impulsive thing to do. He wanted away from the fools in the tavern. And, now that he was alone, if he was being honest with himself, he wanted to spend more time with her. She was exquisite; delicate of feature and with breasts that made him weak at the knees. She was keeping her distance more than was usual... well. No. She was oddly contrarian - eager and shy, friendly and reserved. A mystery that he wanted to investigate.

He didn't understand how she coped with these open windows. But then he'd have built a house out of good sandstone and copper. Eh. What did she do in winter? Shutters maybe. He was about to poke his head through the window to ask her when he saw her pull on the nightgown. It was enough to make his breath catch in his throat, and his lips ache to taste her. The ivory-white claws were stirring again. How long had it been? How long? Far, far too long. The thought of her squirming, mewling, gasping under him. Of bright blood on pale skin...

Focus. Get a grip.

He turned his attention back to the painting. The paint was thick, slimy, and smelt like something had died. Dyed. Hah. He chuckled at the terrible pun. The wood was smooth from seasons of wind and snow, and it took the paint easily. There were times that he needed to fix something, so he made sure to make loud clattering noises lest she think he was spying on her. But then would she really object?

Focus. Get a grip.

One wall done, and another window. He peered in through it, making sure he wasn't silhouetted against the sunlight. What kind of woman was she that she changed into a night-dress at this time of day?!
 
The thought that he was spying on her had never crossed her mind. She listened to his occasional clammer as he painted and occasionally fixed stuff on her house. She could only partially get involved in her book. The noise was distracting, but something else was distracting her as well. The amazingly sexy man working on her house and the offer he had made to travel with him. The choice to go or not was killing her though it didn't show on her expression.

When Kellen peaked into the house he would not see what he was perhaps hoping to see. She was sitting up in her bed this time, legs folded and bare thighs showing as she paid attention to a cat that sat in her lap, nightgown wadded up underneath it. It had entered one of her open windows at some point. The cat seemed perfectly happy to receive attention from her and she was happy to pet it. Her other hand held her book as she casually read it. The feline in her lap was surprisingly still, not willing or wallowing or demanding more of her attention, it only laid there happy to let her pet it.

If he were an observant man he would notice a dog curled up on her front porch at her door, unable to get in but wanting to be near her.
 
His arms were starting to feel like lead; painful lead. He chided himself for not having put more practice in, and for now being out of shape. Three days of ease was enough to make him lose his edge. Good thing that this was just a paintbrush and pot, rather than his sword and a shield. Still, there was something good in the fatigue. It meant he could focus on something other than the dark ghosts that swirled and howled at the back of his mind.

"I know what you mean, boy" he said amiably to the dog. He'd felt a kinship with such animals since ... the change. It seemed only natural that it should belong in the house. "I wouldn't mind a sit down and something to drink either." And then he remembered the tea, which was probably cold by now. He opened the door, letting both himself and the dog in.

"Lorelle - your dog seems to want to come back insi... have I come at a bad moment?" He made his way back into the main room and paused to admire her outfit. It was the kind of dress made to be torn off. It wouldn't have been improper with another Redguard, but he didn't understand enough about Nord social taboos. Should he stay? Leave? Turn his back. Well, go with the most prudish and conservative option.

So rather than focus on her playing with her pussy, he instead headed over to place where the teacups stood, rubbing the knots out of his arms, trying to get the blood flowing again. The tea was still slightly warm - warm enough at least to return some feeling to his chilled fingers as he wrapped them around the ceramic.
 
When the door opened and he and a neighborhood dog came in she couldn't fight the small smile that came to her face. "Oh. She's not mine but thank you. She's welcome too." The dog darted into the house and to the bed. She tilted her head back, allowing Lorelle to brush its snout gently, before laying down on the floor next to her bed.

She did not seem shy about being in her nightgown and only continued to pet the cat in her lap as she watched him stretch. "I really appreciate you doing all these nice things for me, Kellen. I'd like you to stay with me tonight, if you wouldn't mind too much. There hasn't been another person in this house in years... it is nice." The cat jumped off of her lap and Lorelle stood, walking past the dog and moving to the table. "I would appreciate a warm body next to me while I sleep tonight. If that's okay." She flushed, standing next to him within arm's reach.
 
It was as if something inside him snapped; a dam wall had broken. The same rage-filled look filled his face, lips curled back into a bestial snarl, teeth flashing against dark skin, and his eyes narrowed to slits. His hands were suddenly empty, and reaching for her. The cup landed on the table and spilled the cooling tea out onto the wooden surface. His hands, however had found the front of her gown and ripped it open. He didn't wait for a response from her, not really caring what she would say or do. He was going to have her. He took the freckled breast into his mouth, sucking and biting at it greedily, but it wasn't enough.

He would've been strong for any ordinary human, but he wasn't an ordinary human. His hands found her shoulders and spun her around and onto the table. One hand knotted in her hair and mashed her face into the table, covering one cheek in cool tea. The other yanked her gown up over the swell of her buttocks, and then fumbled with the buckle of his own trousers. Her skin was so white and perfect; he longed to touch, taste, take her.

It was such sweet relief to be free of the confinement; his cock had been iron-hard since seeing her before. His cock was thick and hot, practically pulsing with his own drumroll heartbeat as he entered her. And so without hesitation, regret, or remorse he took her. He thrust hard into her, not caring if she was a maiden or not - just wanting to bury his aching flesh into her.

"Lorelle" he snarled in a voice so choked with desire that it was more growl than anything else.
 
She looked at him with somber eyes, her long eyelashes hanging over her baby blues, bottom lip quivering ever so slightly as she recognized a dark, feverish look in his eyes. Her mouth opened ever so slightly, about to speak and ask him what caused his sudden mood change. She could feel it, sense it almost. The air seemed thicker and more dangerous suddenly, suddenly the man she had been bonding with the last few days was a new man entirely. She slid one foot back, her voice only making a sound that would have been that question when he suddenly grabbed at her with... that look.

She screeched softly in surprise as her gown was ripped open, her chest hanging bare before his eyes and hands. Suddenly his mouth found her and she pressed two hands to his shoulders to try and push him away but he was like an unmovable wall. "Kellen, please." The beg came out as a groan. The feeling of his hot mouth on her bare, private skin was almost too much to bare. He was feverish in his need of her and she had trouble keeping up with him and anticipating his next move.

Suddenly he gripped her shoulders and spun her around, slamming her down onto the table. She gasped as her face hit tea, bare cheek being shoved down against the hard wood. He revealed her to him, she knew what would be next. The sound of him fumbling to free his manhood was all too familiar. She writhed on the table to try to get loose but it was no use, he was too strong and he would not stop until he got what he wanted.

And there it was. She cried out as he forced his full girth into her with one motion. Her eyes opened wide, it felt like he was piercing her, ripping her apart. She was so tight and he forced himself all the way in. The faint smell of blood filled the air from his intrusion, but she was no maiden. He was not the first.

She gasped against the table, a droplet of tea flying off of her lips with the breath and she shut her eyes. She couldn't help it... a deep groan escaped her lips as he snarled her name. This really was better than the books.
 
There was something existentially thrilling in this; feeling the way she squirmed and struggled. How good she felt; how warm and tight. But the best part was when her movements changed from being fight-or-flight, to being pleasurable. The predator inside him came to the fore; the smell of blood and the animal need was simple overwhelming. He could just imagine her expression as it changed from surprised pain, to surprise, and then to surprised pleasure. The realisation that it feels good to be filled, stretched, claimed, taken. Whatever the choice of words, the sentiment was the same.

Her screech meant potential discovery or reprisal. The locals were looking for an excuse to drive him out of town. Well, in truth, he was ready to leave anyway. But on his own terms. So he moved his hand up to cover her mouth, whilst still holding onto her hair, indeed, he pulled her head back, forcing her to arch her back.

His grip shifted to her hips and he practically lifted her off the table in his eagerness. Good thing he'd reinforced the table that day, because otherwise he'd have surely fucked them both through it, and onto the floor. He growled her name into her ear again, making it clear it was about her individually, about his animal lust for her.

And. He. Kept. On. Thrusting.

Deep, long, and hard. It was as much about taking her as it was about taming the demons in his own head. Gods, but she felt good.
 
When the man who was buried deep within her nethers clamped a hand over her mouth and pulled her head back her eyes grew somewhat sorrowful, a pleasureful grief on her face as he took control of her body. That's what he did, too. He took control of her body and mind, twisting her thoughts with his pleasure and twisting her body for his. Cold tea still dripped from the trunk of her torso as he held her up and quiet. She shut her eyes, another groan escaping her lips. He was so incredibly large, there was nothing that could have prepared her for that.

She tried to speak his name against his hand in order to bring him back to his senses but his hand was clamped too tightly over her lips, sufficiently keeping her quiet. A humorous thought passed throught referring to the table crossed her mind as well, he had just reinforced it today, had he done so strictly for this purpose? She didn't find that likely. There had been visual thickness of tension in the air when there previously was none, something had changed. A chemical imbalance in his mind possibly. Whatever this was it was raw, it was powerful, it was carnal. It reminded her of the beasts she communed with, especially the wild. Their desires came in wild flares as well.

Lorelle shut her eyes as he pounded into her, her body loosened up, a signal that she would not fight him. If he wanted her so bad she was his for the moment. He could take her this once, perhaps in a way, she owed it to him.
 
The wild spasm of lust and pleasure built to a crescendo of pleasure. He pulled her fully upright and his mouth locked onto her neck in a feral mixture of hunger, lust, and domination. His mind was elsewhere as he pump the hot, white ribbons of his orgasm deep into her. Then, only then, did his rational mind start to reassert itself and his claws - literal and metaphorical - began to retract. First, he lowered his hand from her mouth, instead linking his arms around her. And then, when he was able to speak again, all he managed was her name. And then, only the did he pull back and out of her. He was still breathing heavily, panting almost, in her ear as he finally released her, leaving his orgasm trickling down her inner thigh.

There wasn't regret. It was something more resigned than that. It wasn't remorse - in the same that a wolf wouldn't feel remorse for killing its prey.
 
Lorelle went rigid as he pulled her upright and took ahold of her thin, delicate neck. She tried to remain as calm as possible, one hand settling on his arm that held her in the upright position. The thought to pat it in an attempt to bring him back to the present crossed her mind but he was too far gone. He was too far into the grips of whatever- this was. She felt him tighten as he released himself inside of her, thought of pregnancy crossed her mind very briefly. Not a thought- a concern. She quickly pressed that thought away as it was not the most pressing matter at that time. Her aura was calm and she tried her best to remain that way as well. Sudden movements did not seem safe, words did not seem safe. She was quiet and amiable, letting him finish what he had started.

She shut her eyes when she felt a stabbing feeling as he dug his-- nails? Claws? She didn't inquire and kept her eyes shut, and he finally relented. As he pulled back and released her with his name on her tongue she did not respond. She stood to the side of the table, cold tea still plastered and sliding down her body along with his hot seed that slid down her thighs. She waited a few moments in stricken silence to ensure that the man-- the beast-- was satisfied, before slowly turning to face him. He was obviously worn out by the ordeal, more than a normal man should be. Obviously there was a deeper component to what just happened. It had been a moment of weakness on his part, or perhaps more like a moment of strength on the part that lived within him of which he didn't speak. Her eyes were confused, face flustered but body still as she watched him.

"You need some rest..." The words out of her mouth after being raped on her own table by a man she considered a friend. In truth, she needed some distance from him. She needed time to think. Her hand motioned to her bed where the cat slept. The dog that had come in laid on the floor, watching him, but was not aggressive nor did it seemed concerned. It was normal for her.

"We will talk of this in the morning."

Was she angry? Indignant? Scared? Her expression did not allude to her feelings except for one. She was thoughtful. Perhaps the man hada given himself away. Perhaps not... it was hard to say.
 
He nodded, almost dumbly. His first action, though, was to pick up the shards of broken mug from the table and floor, and then find her a cloth. His manner hadn't changed, at least not physically. The silence, though, hung between them as he pulled his trousers and sword off and hung them on one of the chairs.

"Come join me later?" he asked. There wasn't any nervousness or embarrassment to his tone even as he wiped the tea from her breasts. To him at least, this was as much of an expected outcome of events as paying for a room at the inn. The moment of vulnerability was passing though, and the glimpse she had into that other, darker identity was fading. He slowly, heavily, climbed into her bed and shuffled over to the side nearest the wall. The cat clearly didn't like him - but then cats and wolves never really get on.

He was asleep within moments. Part of him expected to be woken by a group of angry villagers with a noose. But then he'd just add murder to the list of deeds here.
 
While Kellen seemed at peace with what had happened, Lorelle was silent and quite introverted. The introversion was perhaps a new development to Kellen's knowledge as he learned more about her and her manners. She did not answer his request to join him in bed, only lifted her head to look away as he picked up the broken bits of mug and cleaned her. She did not even observe as he removed his clothing and sword as she otherwise might have. She only allowed her eyes to find him while he was climbing into the bed, mostly for the sake of the safety of the cat. A cat which seemed miff when he laid next to it and jumped down and skittered from the bed to rub against her bare legs wanting attention. The dog did not seem to mind him, however.

Her eyes were deep with thought as she watched him settle down and fall asleep rather quickly. So much for an early, relaxing night in with her new friend. Once the threat of the man was for the moment out of the way she went to her bookshelf and looked it over, pulling finally one particular book down to crack open for the night: 'Beasts of Skyrim'. Lorelle settled down with her book at the table, the place of her violation, and read quietly by the fire while he slept. He was peaceful while he slept, she observed passively. It was almost humorous.

Lorelle did finally lay in bed with him but not as closely as she might have before the incident, and it certainly wasn't a relaxing sleep. She awoke after only a few hours before the sun and before the beast-man beside her. She tried to exert some stealth so not to wake him and climbed out of bed so she could pull on a dress for the day. It was as sultry as any other she had, the neckline hanging so low one could only imagine her nipples were not that much farther down. It was green in color with a black ribbon around her small waist. Slightly worn like most of her clothing but still not quite rags. Once dressed she pulled her hair up into a medium ponytail and tied it off, bits of hair spilling around her face and neck. She lit the cooking fire and started her day.

When Kellen awoke he would find himself alone in her small abode. Lorelle could be found outside on her knees, digging a hole in the ground with one of her potted plants from the house sitting beside her, her intentions were to plant it in the natural sun and by the looks of it she had been at it all morning. New plants were erect throughout her yard, and plants waiting to be planted sat on the front porch where they were not previously.

"Good morning." She smiled widely as a dear licked her face before craning its head to nibble at the plant she was preparing to plant. Lorelle raised a hand to wipe the cheek, smudging dirt across her pale white skin. The deer took a step back when it realized it did not like the taste of the plant and settled for eating the grass of her yard instead. She seemed to be in her usual mood, which was a fairly good one. She had thought heavily on the events of the previous night and, well. Her and Kellen were going to have a talk when he woke.. in private.
 
His sleep was deep and untroubled. It seemed that feeding the beast had let him lock it away deeper inside him than before. It was a pity that it had taken this. Well, on the bright side, he hadn't ended up painting the inside of her house in her own blood. He sat up, stretched, and was decidedly grateful not to find an angry mob.

It was a simple matter to dress quickly and then head out to join her. It wasn't like home - the earth there was acidic and harsh, and nothing really grew in it. But here, it seemed that hardy things could flourish. He watched her work leaning quietly against the doorframe, not quite venturing out into the cool air. He went back inside and spent a little while rummaging amongst her herbs before finding something suitable to make tea from. He emerged again with two steaming cups of dark brown liquid and knelt in the earth beside her.

The deer raised its head to inspect him, but didn't seem overly put off by him. At least not yet, and went back to eating its breakfast.

"Good morning, Lorelle" he said with an inclined head and passed her one of the cups. "I think that you are some kind of alchemist, maybe? I've not seen so many herbs and plants anywhere but in their gardens."
 
Lorelle noticed the noise coming from the house but did not respond or even look back, only focusing on the task at hand. She did keep an eye on the deer that had joined her, it was not running away so that was a good sign perhaps. To be near her animals would tolerate much short of imminent danger.

When he finally bothered to join her outside Lorelle was patting down the dirt on her newly planted plant, making sure it was firm enough to hold during rain until it could take root by its own accord. She did not grace him with a look as he knelt down beside her, that is until he spoke and handed her a cup. She finally leaned back on her rear end and took it with dirty hands, letting her eyes slide over him so she could evaluate his mood. As suspected he seemed back to normal now.

"I have some books..." She responded plainly, it was almost her answer for everything, her books.

"Thank you for the tea. Can we talk? In the house?" She quipped the last few sentences at him, not lingering on the topic of tea for even a moment. There was something on her mind and he was going to hear it. Her voice almost seemed a tad high-strung. She raised up from her kneeling position to stand. He looked good kneeling below her for that moment... but she didn't dawdle on that thought. She instead turned to walk into the house, shutting the windows once she got inside while she waited for him to follow suit.
 
He watched her work a little from a closer vantage point, not understanding what she was doing, but respecting the passion and work that went into it. She probably sought solace in it as he did in ... other things. Once she stood and left, the deer quickly bolted. Well, that wasn't unexpected.

The place looked ... hard. She had said that this wasn't a place people came to, but rather went through. The lives people lived seemed as harsh as any desert nomad. It took him a little while to connect the name with the structure was just visible. Dragon Bridge. For or by? Or perhaps in honour of? Regardless, the carving on it caught his eye - the way it seemed to catch the watery morning light. It was clearly the jitters from last night, but there was something about the eye-sockets that drew him.

He turned back to follow her. This would be interesting, whatever happened. There was unexpected strength here. And so he followed her inside.
 
Once he entered, once the door was shut and all the windows were closed, once they were alone, truly alone, not even an animal in the room, Lorelle looked to him. She was seated at the table, one leg lopped over the other, bare foot dangling down her other calf decorated by the rich green of her dress. Her aura was surprisingly business-like, obviously whatever she had on her mind was big. Big like his cock that he forcefully stuffed inside of her the previous night. No, that thought did not belong here... the conversation at hand was important, was the point.

"What you did last night was reckless." She almost hissed the words at him. Although there was a bite to them she actually seemed more concerned about his safety. "Anyone could have walked by and seen what was happening, what you-- are." She choked on the word, revealing what she had suspected the previous night. She knew. Oh, she knew

She stopped herself and took a deep breath, closing her eyes to him for a moment so she could collect her thoughts. Her hand reached out of her lap to sprawl onto the table which was still sticky from tea. Lorelle pushed her weight on it so she could stand, leaning over it ever so slightly, her ample chest dangling, cleavage almost taunting him and she didn't even bat an eyelash about it. "I've decided to go with you on your quest to catch the mage-thief, but I have some stipulations. I need to know you'll protect me. I know what lies outside of our boarders. Bandits, barbarians, vampires..." Wild animals did not seem to be a concern of hers. "And if you fail to keep me safe, I need to know you can keep yourself safe from me." She did not specify the nature of that last request.


She stood straight and brushed a strand of hair out of her face, smudging more dirt on her pale skin. "And I need you to get me to Winterhold before we consider this partnership over. There, you can leave me. Winterhold is where I need to be." Lorelle took a few steps closer to him until she stood uncomfortably close, but not touching. She leaned her head into him ever so slightly, speaking on a whisper meant only for him.

"I know what it's like to have something living deep within yourself... something you cannot control.."

She moved her head, looking up at his face then. "I will go only if you will agree to those terms." Suddenly the reason Lorelle was planting her inside plants outside made sense, she was not planning on returning anytime soon... if at all.
 
He put his hands on his hips as he looked down at her, nodding to her words - but not necessarily in agreement.

"I was not expecting this kind of conversation. Rather that you were perhaps going to chastise me, demand an apology. But instead - this." he stroked his chin as he came to join her at the table, his fingers idly tracing the knots and gnarls in the wood.

"You seem to know a great deal about me. The mage-thief is the reason I have this..." he wasn't quite sure of the word. Curse? Condition? Blessing? Status? Well, perhaps. "Why I am like this." it seemed lame. "So when I find him, I'll kill him. He stole from me everything I have."

As she leaned forward, he took her chin in one hand, and the piece of cloth he'd used to clean the tea from her chest yesterday. His grip wasn't hard - certainly not like last night - as he cleaned her face. Only afterwards did he answer her.

"I have no fear of discovery in a place like this. What I fear more is completely losing control. Of slaughtering my way through a place like this. Of giving people a false but understandable hatred of my people. What would the farmers here do? Other than shower me with more harsh words." he sounded bitter, the words in his mouth like a nasty herb.

"Bandits, barbarians, vampires - they hold little fear for me. I was good with a sword before fate gave me another set of weapons." he may have been a werewolf, but he was a Redguard too, and so always proud of martial exploits.

"Tell me what business you have in Winterhold, and what you hide within yourself - you say that I may have to protect myself from you - what does that mean? You know my dark secret now, and I would like to know yours."
 
She was not expecting him to be so relaxed about her words. Neither was she quite sure what she expecting. Attitude, perhaps, to mirror her own, a feeling of being blackmailed... defensiveness to being read so easily. Either way his calm demeanor surprised her, even caught her off guard if not just a little. He seemed to be considering her words seriously though, and that was all she could ask. To think about it... to really think about his answer. It was perhaps a defining moment of their story.

As he revealed where he got his curse she nodded her head, better understanding why he allowed the wizard to drag him this far to begin with. It was perhaps understandable. However, her thoughts on his gift seemed different than his own. It was a great gift to her mind, but then it was not her gift to decide.


She watched him clean the dirt from her face silently, taking her seat afterwards as he probed about her business with Winterhold. He asked about her dark secret... Her eyes no longer looked at him, but past him, into her past perhaps. Into herself maybe. She was as silent as her house as she considered his question.

"Fire." She murmured the word, despair in her voice clinging to every one, dripping off of her words and leaving tears in the air. "Death.[\b]" Her dark secret put into words, it made her heart heavy, she felt like it might just stop beating for a moment. The space between her words was deafening. She stiffened her posture and sat upright at last, breaking herself from the spell that her past had placed upon her. She pulled herself back into reality, back into the man that sat in front of her. "I would not tell you if I did not think you could understand." So the very thing that should have frightened her, caused her to trust him more. They had more in common than they thought... despite their differences.

"I am not a danger unless..." She bit her bottom lip as she tried to find the words. She trailed off for a moment. She had never spoke the words so she did not know how to present them. "Fear seems to set it off. Desperation... pain... there is a ringing in my ears, everything gets... hot. And... I cannot control it. The College of Winterhold specializes in magic, teaches it... if I can get an audience with the Grand Master... Well, perhaps they can help me. Or kill me." She smiled, pain of the burden seeping off of the desperate smile. "If they feel I cannot be helped."
 
He looked blankly at her. "Fear I can understand. Desperation. Pain, and the ... something lurking deep inside that rises up in those moments. But then I think that is all that I need to know. Words cannot describe what is known only in feeling it, in living it. My condition has a name, and by naming it the thing becomes less terrifying - it is not the yawning chasm of unknown. But only when you feel your bones crack and your teeth sharpen, and your fingertips erupt into claws do you truly know. There is strength in resisting, but at times release is necessary to safe the wall of the dam. But then what do I know? If I knew how to live my life properly, I ... well, I wouldn't be a number of things"

He shrugged expansively, his eyes kept intently on hers. His gaze, as ever, was intense.

"But I think you know the risks of travelling with me. You felt them last night." another shrug.

He stood and stretched. "I am not going to tell you that travelling together will be easy. It'll be cold, at times bloody, and frequently hard. This is not some fairy-tale about knights in shining armour going off on grand adventures."

A pause.

"Well, no, this is a grand adventure. The grandest adventure of them all - testing skill against danger, testing strength against fear. It is the only adventure worth having. The only complaint I have is that I wish we had this conversation a little earlier. I paid for a box of candles for this place with your merchant" a chuckle.
 
She felt herself shrinking under his gaze. She had no interest in determining whose darkness was worse, but at least he knew what his was. At least he could find books that explained. Her darkness was frowned upon by nations, looked upon as dangerous, reckless, and she couldn't even control it. Books could not explain what happened to her, or at least they did not care to if they could. All she knew was that she was dangerous... Perhaps not more dangerous than him, but at least he could blame his on something.

She was not scared of his risks. Well that wasn't true, she knew how dangerous and out of control they could be. But she knew other things from reading her books while locked away in the safety of this place. She knew he could learn to control it, for one. She knew that also that there was a cure... but that was a talk for a later time.

She tilted her head to look at him as he stood and went on to speak of how unomfortable and difficult traveling could possibly be. When he mentioned bloody she inwardly cringed, knowing it would more than likely not be there blood, but looked otherwise unbothered. When he spoke of the candles he had bought however, she couldn't help but give a small giggle. The darkness of their conversation quickly faded into something much lighter, thanks to him. She needed that.

Lorelle stood also from her chair. "I am not a warrior like you.... but to learn what is wrong with me, I am willing to fight for that. I am willing to take that risk. You might be my only chance.." It was true, without a capable warrior by her side she might never get to the College, she might die thinking her own great gift, was a curse.

She nodded her head to him. "I have a small savings. I think I can reimburse you for the candles."
 
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