LetsFly

Oathbreakers [Skyrim RP] [LoadedGuns & LetsFly]

As they ventured out of the bustling city of Whiterun and onto the path leading towards Karthspire, Lyra couldn’t shake the sense of relief that washed over her. The open wilderness embraced them, offering a sense of freedom and comfort she hadn’t realized she missed. Beside her, Finrod’s presence was a reassuring anchor, his steady strides matching her own as they walked side by side.

Surprisingly, when their arms brushed against each other, neither shied away. It was as if an unspoken understanding had settled between them, allowing for the subtle exchange of physical contact without awkwardness. Lyra found herself drawn to the warmth of Finrod’s presence, grateful for the unexpected comfort it brought.

Their footsteps echoed softly on the dirt path, the rhythm of their journey filling the quiet air. After a while, Finrod broke the silence, his voice cutting through the tranquil surroundings. He inquired what she did for fun, his tone laced with genuine curiosity.

Lyra chuckled softly at the question, the sound carrying a hint of amusement. “Fun?” she repeated, the word feeling foreign on her tongue. “I’m not really sure,” she admitted, pausing to ponder. “I enjoy reading. Dancing, though I’m not very good at it. And fishing,” she added with a small smile, the memories of casting lines into tranquil waters bringing a sense of peace to her soul.

Turning the question back to Finrod, she raised an eyebrow playfully. “What about you? What does a high elf like yourself do for fun?” she asked, genuinely curious to learn more about the enigmatic man by her side.

As they continued their journey, the air between them seemed charged with an undeniable tension, a palpable energy that crackled with unspoken words and shared moments. Beneath the vast expanse of the Skyrim sky, amidst the beauty of the wilderness, Lyra couldn’t help but wonder what adventures awaited them on the road ahead — and what it was that had drawn them together, forging a connection bound by fate whether they liked it or not.

Oathbreakers [Skyrim RP] [LoadedGuns & LetsFly]

Lyra slid into the seat beside Finrod, a shiver running down her spine despite the warmth of the tavern's fire. She couldn't help but inch closer to him, seeking the heat of another body near hers. Glancing around the room, she expected to find the door open and letting a draft in, or perhaps that the old woman had charmed some sort of cold feeling into her, but found the door closed and the old woman lost in a slumber in her usual chair.

Regardless, their closeness felt nice, so Lyra didn't move away. As she settled in beside Finrod, her gaze fell upon the map spread out before them, his finger tracing the potential routes they could take. The prospect of their journey ahead filled her with a sense of excitement, mingled with a hint of apprehension. She nodded as she considered their options. "I think we aim for the Inn," she continued, her voice laden with optimism, "With my luck, something will certainly go wrong and we won't make it that far, but I like to hope for the best. Worst case scenario, the cabin is a good back-up."

Lovely, Terrible Things [Arista & LetsFly]

The severe light of Sunday morning brought Cal back to his senses abruptly. He'd forgotten to shut the curtains the night before, and woke in the early morning hours. Cal felt the day stretching out before him, a vast expanse of time to be filled with anything but the silence of his own company.

On his way down the stairs to let Stella out to go to the bathroom, he knocked on the guest bedroom door to see if Marcus was awake yet. As he did so, his knuckles instead pushed the cracked door open even further... revealing an empty bed, comforter and pillows neatly arranged. Damnit, Marcus. Before he could finish his own thought, his finger was already dialing the number.

Marcus picked up on the first ring. "Dude, don't be mad, I just--". The sound of the highway filled the background of his voice.

"You were drugged, Marcus. What the hell are you doing, driving?" His voice was laced with irritation and concern. "We agreed we were gonna plan our next move today. You better not be going after Danny solo!"

"I'm not," Marcus interjected, sounding frustrated himself. "Jenna called me, freaking out that I never showed last night. I didn't think to text her that I was staying at your place. I'm just going to reassure her that I'm fine. Shit, dude, you're wound up tight. We'll figure out this Danny thing, just take a day to relax, you clearly need it."

Click.

Exasperated, Cal sighed, shoving his phone into his pocket. He hadn't thought of Jenna, Marcus's girlfriend. He'd been so preoccupied with the Danny thing, he hadn't ensured to cover his friend's back so he could rest up without setting off alarm bells. He needed to get his head screwed back on straight, he was starting to lose it. This whole weekend had been one big distraction -- Calvin Crawford was not the type to let things slip through the cracks.

What I need, his mind sounded off indignantly, Is to get laid. Nothing to clear my head like a beautiful woman.

Cal shook off the thought, somewhat perturbed by himself. There was only one beautiful woman occupying his mind at the moment, and she hadn't responded to his texts yet.

He was left to face the day alone, but at least he had Stella. He took her outside, watching her bound across the yard, her energy and innocence a stark contrast to the complexities of his own life.

The day stretched on, filled with simple activities meant to distract and soothe the mind. He watched a movie with Stella curled up beside him, ordered in a takeout lunch, and found respite in the cool water of the pool against the heat of his thoughts. Sundays, with their quiet and lack of distractions, forced Cal to confront parts of himself he could usually ignore. His business, with its demands and stressors, offered an escape he found himself yearning for. The thought of Monday brought a surprising sense of relief, a return to a world where he felt in control, where he could don his usual persona and leave the solitude behind.

Oathbreakers [Skyrim RP] [LoadedGuns & LetsFly]

Navigating the increasingly familiar streets of Whiterun, Lyra's steps quickened with purpose as she embarked on her mission to gather supplies. The city buzzed with activity, merchants calling out to passerby to bring attention to their wares, and citizens going about their daily routines.

Her first stop was the Drunken Huntsman, a haven for hunters and adventurers alike. Pushing open the creaking door, she was greeted by the cozy interior, dimly lit by flickering torches, casting dancing shadows across the worn wooden walls.

Approaching the counter, Lyra engaged in a silent debate with herself over the choice between quantity and quality when it came to purchasing arrows. With a decisive nod, she opted for quality, selecting a few dozen steel-tipped arrows. She reasoned that she and Finrod were skilled enough to make each shot count, and the extra penetration power could prove invaluable in their travels.

Additionally, she procured two sturdy waterskins, one extra for each of them to keep in their packs in case of damage to the ones they currently carried. When food was scarce and all else failed, fresh water was perhaps the most important asset that could make the difference between life and death.

As she made her way back through the bustling market toward the Bannered Mare, her keen eyes spotted a tempting apple nestled among the colorful array of fruits on a nearby stall. With practiced finesse, she deftly snagged the ripe fruit, concealing her theft from the watchful gaze of the shopkeeper. Taking a bite, she relished in the crisp sweetness as she ascended the stairs to the inn.

Entering the dimly lit interior of the Bannered Mare, Lyra's gaze immediately sought out Finrod, who sat lost in thought with a tankard of mead in hand. The scene before her felt oddly reminiscent of their encounter the previous evening, yet somehow different. There was a sense of gravity in the air now, a weight of shared purpose that hung between them.

A smile of admiration tugged at Lyra's lips as she approached him. In the span of a day, their lives had become inexplicably intertwined. As she drew closer, she couldn't help but wonder what adventures awaited them on the road ahead.

Lettie's Feeling Romantic [1x1, plots, pairings, fandoms, etc!]

bump! added a few new pairings

Oathbreakers [Skyrim RP] [LoadedGuns & LetsFly]

Finrod listed off the things they would need to obtain before beginning their journey, and Lyra nodded, ticking them off in her head. "Got it. If we want to split up, it might be faster. I can get us arrows and a couple of extra waterskins, if you want to go for food and potions."

Lyra took a deep breath, enjoying the smell of cooking food and leather and flame. She knew it might be a while before she were surrounded by other people in this capacity again. She would soak up the city environment while she still could. She slipped a few fingers into her coin pouch, checking to ensure she would have enough to gather up her share of the items needed. What she had would only just cover what she needed -- she would have to find a way to either make or steal more money in the near future, if she had any hope of buying anything more in the future.

Lovely, Terrible Things [Arista & LetsFly]

A buzz in his pocket startled Cal awake, and he sat upright quickly, his eyes flying around the room, trying to get their bearings in the darkness. At some point while sitting beside Marcus, he’d fallen asleep, despite in having only been early evening at the time — it was quite a bit later now, and his house was nearly pitch dark. Stella seemed to notice Cal’s alarmed state, and hopped down from her perch on Marcus’s leg to him, placing her nose into his hand. He rubbed her face as she did, using the other hand to wipe sleep from his eyes and yawned, his jaw cracking loudly as he did so.

He brought his phone up to check the time — 11PM — and only then, remembered what had woken him up in the first place. He squinted, the light of the phone feeling blindingly bright in the darkness of the room.

I wanted to thank you for lunch. And to apologize for running out on you.

A slow grin spread across Cal’s face. So, she’d finally seen the napkin. He looked over to Marcus, still snoring on the couch, before typing up his own reply — unsure why he suddenly felt anxious.

No apologies necessary. You can make it up to me by running in to me again sometime soon.

He sent it, and then quickly followed it with one more.

I hope Mishka wasn’t too terribly offended to be my assigned messenger. She carried out her duties well, I see. Smart girl.

He sent it without another thought, and wrinkled his nose a bit, wishing he’d thought out something better. Mishka? Really? Was the fact that they both had dogs the only thing that they could relate on?

He decided against sending a third text, locking his phone and putting it down on the armrest of the chair, rubbing his hands over his face. He made his way into the kitchen, turning on only the light above the stove so as not to wake Marcus, and quickly made them up some eggs and toast. His refrigerator at this house was pretty threadbare — he normally ate whatever the hotel was offering, and stayed there more often than not, considering it was only a couple of blocks away from his office. Cooking wasn’t his strong suit, anyway.

He brought the plates back into the living room, and gently coaxed Marcus out of his slumber. “Come on man, you gotta eat something. You can go right back to sleep after.”

Marcus grumbled in protest, but sat up, stretching and popping joints. “Shit. How long was I out?”

Cal considered. “A few hours at least. I racked out too. Let’s get some food in us and then rest up properly. Big day tomorrow.”

Marcus took a bite of his toast, and then pulled it away, looking at it as if someone had spit on it. “Dude. How do you fuck up toast? And tomorrow’s Sunday, why would it be a big day? We going to church or something?”

Cal rolled his eyes at the comment on his food preparation skills. “No — church? Are you kidding? — Tomorrow we need to figure out what the hell we’re going to do about this Danny guy.”

Marcus shook his head, blowing air out through his teeth and sitting up further to scarf down his eggs. “What do you mean what we’re going to do about him? I figured you’d take his ass out. You’re the Big Dog and he’s trying to make demands of you and shit, that don’t fly with you.”

“No,” Cal said, contemplating. “No it doesn’t. And I won’t let it fly. But I can’t just knock him off.” He sighed, shaking his own head and closing his eyes in exasperation. “We don’t need to do this tonight. We’ll figure it out later. Fresh sheets are in the bedroom, you know where you’re going.”

With that, Cal departed the living room, Stella trotting happily beside him. He made his way to his own room; it was just as bare and sterile as the rest of the house, with few decorations and nearly untouched furniture. There was little point in adding personal touches when he was only here one or two days out of every month.

He checked his phone one last time before falling asleep, wishing he’d had the forethought to sneak a quick picture of Ana while he had her in front of him. He cast out the stress of Danny, though it was quickly replaced by the stress of seeing Ana with that red-haired guy, whoever he was. He slept fitfully, dreams and nightmares intermingling in his mind, circling his consciousness like vultures awaiting the untimely death of their prey.

Lovely, Terrible Things [Arista & LetsFly]

The door slammed shut behind them when Cal finally returned home with Marcus in tow. Stella greeted them excitedly, though her happy tail-wagging quickly shifted to concerned whines when she noted Marcus's sorry state. Cal dragged him to the couch, dumping him there as delicately as he could, which wasn't much considering the sheer size of him. Stella dutifully climbed up as well, making a circle and laying down on Marcus's legs. He groaned, and Cal made his way to the kitchen to get water. "We should really get you to a hospital," he said as he returned, helping Marcus to lift himself slightly so he could drink.

"And tell them what? This shit will wear off. I'm fine, boss. You shouldn't have come, I could have taken him."

Cal frowned, frustrated. "He practically shot you up with horse tranquilizer. You weren't going anywhere if they didn't want you to." What he did find comical, however, was the mental image of small, skinny Danny attempting to drag Marcus from a bar into the back of a waiting van. There was no way he'd done it alone, but no one else had been in the abandoned building aside from the three of them, as far as Cal could tell. He wasn't sure what the implications of that were.

I want in, Danny had said. Cal sat in a chair beside the couch and put his face in his hands, trying to think through how to best go about this. He didn't take too kindly to demands being made of him, or people forcing their way into his operation. Hell, if Danny had just asked, Cal likely would have found a place for him beyond the IT role he clearly wasn't satisfied with. If this kind of incident had occurred with any of his other guys, he would have nipped the problem in the bud right away. But Danny had ensured Cal knew that he had Dead Man's Switches in place -- if Cal did anything to hurt him, Danny had set things up in such a way that all of the information proving Cal's involvement in the criminal world would be released to the press and the feds. It could be a bluff, but Danny was a smart guy and Cal was sure he could set up that sort of thing.

"I don't know what to do," he said to no one in particular, not sure just how coherent Marcus was at the moment. "I can't let him have anything to do with my operations after what he did -- he'd clearly vindictive, and if I so much as give him a position he doesn't like as much as another, he'll throw a hissy fit and threaten to expose us. But if I don't bring him in, he'll do the same thing." Cal laughed without humor. "All these years in the business and I've somehow never had to deal with blackmail before. What's the status quo on dealing with these things?"

Marcus responded with a snore, having fallen asleep on the couch, and Cal sighed. He had to figure this out.

He considered hiring someone else to knock him off. Danny had only specified that if Cal hurt him, he'd expose Circus Corp. Perhaps Cal could orchestrate something that took care of the issue, but seemed like a totally random act of violence that had nothing to do with him.

Or, he could do some clean-up. Close the accounts that Danny had accessed, revoke access, move things around in such a way that any proof Danny had before would now be obsolete, and if he published it, Cal could claim it was forgery.

His head hurt as he reeled through his options, or rather lack thereof. He hated that Danny had any power over him, that he'd let his guard slip for long enough to allow something like this to happen to his best friend. And speaking of letting his guard slip...

He pulled out his phone, checking the screen for notifications. Despite everything he'd endured this evening, he still hoped he would find a text from Ana. But there was nothing. How could his day go from so wonderful to so terrible in the matter of hours?

Lovely, Terrible Things [Arista & LetsFly]

Cal’s GPS could barely keep up — he’d sped back into city limits within minutes, praying silently that he didn’t see the telltale red-and-blue lights that would delay him in getting to Marcus. Luckily, he’d avoided any law enforcement, and finally reached the address on Sunset that the caller had mentioned.

Cal parked his car around the block, grateful that the building seemed more or less abandoned, an oddity for this part of town. It was a brick sort of warehouse, with busted windows, several stories high. Outside, the sidewalks were littered with bits of steel and nails, as if whatever foundry that had been here had simply tossed their parts out onto the street when they’d closed.

Approaching as stealthily as he could, he made his way to the back of the building, pistol drawn, checking corners and blindspots before each move. He found an unlocked door and made his way through, coming into a stairwell. It only went up, so Cal followed it. At the second floor, he paused, unsure whether he should continue — but a quick glance up the flight showed that the next floor was blocked off by some debris that had collapsed in front of the entry to the third. He opened the door to the second level, and came into a dark hallway, with only one door lit near the end.

He made his way through, careful to avoid stepping on any broken glass, not wanting to announce his arrival before he’d gotten a chance to get his bearings.

On the drive here, he’d wondered about who was on the other end of that call — trying to think through a mental list of everyone he’d wronged, boyfriends or even husbands of women he’d pursued, colleagues of criminals he’d knocked off. The list was long, but this sort of thing was normally Cal’s specialty; he prided himself on his networking skills, always remembering names and faces, connections, who was who and what they did. The voice, though familiar, still hadn’t turned up a face in his mind. He had no idea what he was walking into.

He heard a cough as he neared the door, and froze. Silence followed, and he peeked around the threshold. Marcus was there, sitting in a chair tied up, similar to the way John had been tied up in Cal’s own building. Marcus looked unscathed from what he could tell, and Cal waited another beat, ensuring no one else was in the room, before he pushed the door open.

Marcus met his gaze and his eyes widened. “Boss, get out of here!”

Cal shot him a look, making quick work of untying his hands. “Who is this guy? And how the hell did he get his hands on you? You’re twice my size, and I practically live at the gym.”

Marcus didn’t look amused. In fact, he looked grim. “I was at a bar with some of the guys getting a drink,” he said, “Just trying to catch the Lakers game. Must have been something in my drink, because next thing I knew, I woke up here.”

With the guys. Cal wondered if whoever had done this was one of his own.

He finished untying the binds, and lifted Marcus to his feet. Marcus leaned hard into him, and Cal struggled a bit under his weight. Obviously, the drugs were going to make getting him down the stairs difficult. “Let’s get you out of here. We can deal with this asshole later. I’m taking you back to the house, you can stay there until we—”

Before Cal could finish, he heard the unmistakable racking of a handgun behind them. He froze, Marcus teetering a bit against him.

“Leaving so soon?” he heard, the familiar voice just behind his head.

Cal took a steadying breath. “If you wanted to talk to me, this was a hell of a way to go about it.”

“Who said anything about talking?”

He wasn’t sure he was going to get out of this. Marcus, who was usually the muscle of his operations, was incapacitated, and none of the other guys knew they were here. “Let him go, and I’m all yours.”

A hand grabbed his shoulder then, whipping him around to face the source of the voice.

Danny?

It was the IT guy from the Vanderbuilt operation. Before, Danny had seemed like the helpless, nerdy type, with his nervous questions and constantly wringing hands. Now, with a 9mm pointed steadily at Cal’s face, he realized he’d misjudged him. “Danny? What the fuck? What, you didn’t get a big enough cut of the Vanderbuilt job? How much do you want?”

Danny grinned, shaking his head. “Always so arrogant. I have much bigger things in mind, Calvin. That’s the problem with your type — you get so caught up in your big world with your big parties and big-breasted women, yet you forget how to think big.”

Cal’s patience was running thin. Whatever they’d hit Marcus with, he was practically drooling on his shoulder, and would likely need a hospital. “What do you want, kid? Let’s just get this over with.”

“I did some digging,” Danny said finally, as if excited that Cal had finally gotten him to the point, “While we were prodding around in the Vanderbuilt accounts, I looked into some of your own. You were so pressed about how Charles was dealing arms to terrorists — and yet, it appears you’re the terrorist in our own back yards, aren’t you Calvin?”

The question wasn’t rhetorical, and Cal made a face. “What are you talking about? A terrorist?”

“Close enough,” Danny continued. “It turns out that Circus Corp is only really a Corporation in name, isn’t it? It seems like those clean buildings and glittering facades are hiding something much darker, underneath, no? It would be a shame if that got out to the public. Or to the FBI.”

Cal swallowed. “Danny, you don’t understand. I’m not — I know how it looks, but you have to trust me, I have my reasons, and—”

“Of course you have your reasons. I’m sure Charles Vanderbuilt had his reasons too — those reasons probably looked something like yours. Dollar signs in the eyes. You’re all the fucking same.”

“What do you want? You might as well kill me here and now, because you’re clearly not going to listen to what I have to say. Do you want money? Want me to pay off your student loans? Drugs? What is it?”

Danny grinned, and there was something sinister in his eyes, something that made Cal certain he would regret coming here, even if only to retrieve his best friend. He lowered the gun finally, stepping up so close that Cal could feel his breath on his face.

“I want in.”

Oathbreakers [Skyrim RP] [LoadedGuns & LetsFly]

As they drew nearer to Whiterun, Lyra found solace in the familiar cacophony of bustling voices that carried on the wind. While she harbored no particular aversion to Finrod's company, she was a bit uneasy travelling with only one companion, especially a male. Habitually cautious, she kept her knife sheathed on her hip within easy reach, the strap left undone in readiness for any unforseen threat. She was feeling more trusting of Finrod as time went by, but she couldn't be too careful.

Finrod explained that he wasn’t entirely certain what the significance of the Inn was, beyond a stopping point on their journey. Lyra shrugged, accepting his answer; she was no more knowledgeable in the hidden symbolisms of her own vision.

She agreed with his elaboration, however. “If we can afford it, I’d be pleased to avoid camping when we can. Nothing like waking up to a bear tearing at your dinner’s bones in the middle of the night, only a few meters from your face. Nearly soiled myself.” She crinkled her nose, disgusted with her own rudeness. Why she felt the need to add that last bit, she wasn’t sure. She certainly wasn’t adding any points to her allure with Finrod — though perhaps that was for the better, if they were to be travelling together; it was safer if he saw her as one of the guys, rough and tumble and not to be trifled with.

“I think we aim for it, though who knows what we’ll run into along the way. It’s more of a plan than any I have — which is none, really.”

They’d reached the gates, and it didn’t escape Lyra that with Finrod beside her, the guard — the same one from the other day — didn’t have any teasing words for her this time. She was almost disappointed; some part of her looked forward to the jabs she’d planned on throwing back at him. Of course, she’d also imagined wringing his neck, but that would more likely place her in the Whiterun dungeons, and that would certainly put a damper on their quest.