Dervs and Hank did this
The white, silty sand was hot beneath the bare-feet that tread across the beach’s surface. While the location would have seemed a tropical paradise under other pretenses, a storm was approaching from the East, bringing with it large waves that had begun to swell in the distance. Time was of the essence, and not just on account of the weather. Standing in two orderly rows, as if receiving a delegate, were a trio of hulking figures that were completely bundled in leathers, crude iron armour, and furs; they were the Kamal and through the spectacled visors that adorned their great helms, pairs of bright blue eyes stared back hatefully. But still, they waited. They were creatures that remained frozen for much of the year until they were afforded a few months of time to continue their fated conquest. Like winter, they were repelled every year, but the threat of them lingered. Time was on their side, and like living glaciers, all they required to thrive was an absence of warmth. While each year for centuries they had only known defeat, all they required was victory once and everything would end. They truly were monsters, an unstoppable force.
And yet they waited.
He walked past the towering sentinels, barely paying them mind even though their glaives and axes could cut him in two without much effort on their behalf; he had witnessed them do just that in Windhelm. While he carried only a quarterstaff and a sense of purpose, it was enough. The Kamal watched, their feet planted as if they were statues in the sand. They were here to bear witness to what was to happen next.
A pair of figures stood at the end of the beach, light figures backing onto the black and green sky of the storm that threatened to envelop them all. The first drops of rain fell, and upon a padded palm, they felt cold as ice. The Kamal stirred, as if reinvigorated. The implication was clear; there would be no escaping from this winter. It has come to claim harvest. He walked purposefully towards the two figures, a pair of familiar and pale faces, one adorned with hair of crimson fire and the other with hair the colour of sod. The fire-haired woman was on her knees, her hair clutched in a fist by the man, a handsome Nord whose eyes were filled with irrational, drunken hate. In his hand was clutched around a familiar axe, one that was purchased for the fire-haired woman not long ago as a token of respect and love. About her neck was an amulet of Mara that had been crafted in the deserts of Anequina, symbols of Jone and Jode represented with moonstones and the amulet itself enameled sandstone.
He stopped not far from them; the staff was planted in the sands. The wind picked up, the rain felt like needles, and in the distance, lightning flashed in a spectacle of light that was beautiful in the way only that which was truly dangerous was. The man’s face was cut and bruised, badges of the last time he had confronted him over the fire-haired woman. His pride was his weakness, and his mind was not sound. Amber feline eyes regarded the Nord through narrow slits, pity having given way to cold resolve. He had gone too far; this would never happen again.
“You took her from me!” The battered sod-haired man screamed, pulling crimson locks tighter in his fist. The axe was clutched dangerously close, the blade leaving a scarlet crescent as it traced skin. Still, he did not move. The man continued to pant, rationality having left his fair features. Leif Raven-Stone was gone; a feral animal was standing in his place. Still, there was no more pity left for this man, no chance at redemption. He would do what needed to be done.
“Do’Karth, please… don’t.” The woman pleaded, but not to the man who held her hostage with her own axe. “Don’t do this.” She knew what he planned to do, and what it would mean. Still, he would press on. That decision was made long ago.
“The choice has been made.” He replied calmly, pulling the staff out of the sand. A foot-long moonstone blade was affixed to the end, lightning cracked dangerously close. The waves began to lap up the beach, soaking his feet in ice. Still he remained still, looking at the new blade expectantly, as if remembering.
“You’ll never have her! You hear me, cat?” Leif screamed, spittle flying from his lips. Furious, rabid. Pathetic.
The spear was lifted, and with steps and a sense of momentum that he had not felt in years, the weapon left the feline’s paw, sailing through the air. The weapon’s flight was true, and the blade buried itself into the man’s ribs, cutting through white cotton as if it were the air itself. Leif dropped to the ground, sucking air through a punctured lung. The feline walked to his prone body, grabbing the spear, preparing to drive it in further. The crimson-haired woman sobbed, clutching at his legs, begging him to stop through a choked voice. This gave him pause, as if he had forgotten something. He looked to her emerald eyes, trying to remember the connection.
“Do’Karth… what…” Leif spoke, but the voice was not his own. He looked down at the feral Nord and instead found a different face staring back at him, and Ohmes with fair features and tattoos to give the Bosmer-looking Khajiit more feline features to connect him spiritually to his people. “Who are you…” the voice trailed off and the light left his eyes.
He looked down in horror. S’Razza lay dead at the end of his spear, felled not blocking the Mane, but for being alongside the woman he loved. He stumbled, stepping back in horror, his hands clasping at his face as he let out an anguished scream. He knew the blades were coming next, the penance of Dar’Turga’s failed assassination. He prepared for them to pierce his calf, his flank, his chest…
The blades did not come.
Turning around with petrified eyes, he looked back towards the Kamal, who stood right behind him. They reached up to their masks and helms, pulling them free and dropping them to the sand. Lightning struck the beach, blinding his eyes and deafening his ears. When he looked upon them again, Khajiit stood where the Kamal did, faces from his past with murderous eyes. The elder approached, holding a silver dagger with a red ribbon, the same that had been left on his pillow the night before the assassination. The elder took his hand, placing the blade in his palm. The Suthay-Raht smiled.
“Welcome home.”
Eyes jolted open and the entire world lurched, and Do’Karth grabbed the fabric of his hammock, digging his claws into it in alarm. He was panting, the vivid images that had just filled his mind being slowly replaced by the fog of being forced of sleep. The Khajiit was not used to the motions of ships, nor did he particularly care for them. Sinking and drowning in the cold Northern waters in all honesty terrified him, but it was his duty to press forward. Others depended on him, and on this ship were his friends and lover. Do’Karth looked over at the sleeping face in the hammock next to his; Sevine slept soundly, not a trace of the anguish she had endured in his thoughts across her peaceful and beautiful features. Sitting up and planting his feet firmly on the deck below him, Do’Karth bent forward, massaging the back of his neck with strong fingers and the comforting racking of claws as he borrowed from his meditation rituals to ground himself.
Focusing on the wood beneath his feet, the fabric of the hammock, the motion of the ship as it rocked gently in the Solitude harbour, the sounds of the sleeping crew breathing and snoring amongst the hold, Do’Karth took it all in and let himself become rooted in the moment. The raw emotional toll he felt from the nightmare had passed, and soon the Khajiit opened his eyes, realizing the sleep would not come to him for some time. He stood, stretching his sore limbs, especially the leg that seemed to always hurt, and he quickly decided that fresh air would do him well. The Khajiit never appreciated being below deck; if the ship ran into a crisis and began taking on water, the last place he wished to be was somewhere where he could not escape. At least on the deck, all you had to do was swim up. That luxury was not afforded to those down below who had only limited air to find the ladder or stairwell above to salvation. He’d heard one too many tales of people definitely not finding it.
Walking over to Sevine, he brushed the hair out of her face and gently pressed his forehead against hers, not wishing to wake her but to feel her presence. He would speak to her later, he decided. She needed rest as much as anyone else. And so, Do’Karth headed to the stairwell to the levels above, stopping as his hand grasped the railing to look back at Leif’s sleeping face, finding it contorted in an amusing shape as he snored obnoxiously in the night. Under other circumstances, it would be amusing for the Khajiit, but now he only felt guilt and apprehension. It was the push that he needed to head topside to try and forget.
4th of Last Seed, 4E205
Solitude, Skyrim
On the deck of the Kyne’s Tear
It was close to midnight and Niernen sat on the railing of the ship, her legs dangling off the edge. Copper eyes -- the color of which had always mystified her parents and remained, as far as she knew, unique -- stared out over the Sea of Ghosts, watching the moonlight reflect and refract in the ever-moving water. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. The waves quietly lapped against the coast and the ship’s hull below, a salty breeze toyed with her hair and the cries of far-off seagulls carried through the air. Her gray cloak was wrapped around her torso, providing warmth against the chill of Skyrim’s summer nights. It was peaceful, serene, and by all rights a moment that Niernen should have enjoyed.
But she didn’t. Her hands lay trembling in her lap, fingers interlocked, searching for support. She could still feel the fear in her stomach that she’d woken up with, gasping for breath, and the last image of her nightmare was still burned into her mind: the dark, foreboding undercroft of a Temple of the Reclamations, where the Dunmer kept the ashes of their ancestors, and the terrible knowledge that the four corners of the room were full of troubles - but when she looked, all Niernen saw was the shape of the Nerevarine lurking in the gloom. She wanted to go to Narzul’s bed, wake him up, tell him about the dream and curl up in his embrace, and she almost did, but he had never been that kind of big brother. Narzul cared, and always had, but he was stiff and aloof to a fault. So instead she’d gotten dressed, left Gustav’s warehouse, wandered wherever her feet guided her while she struggled to calm herself down, and found herself sitting here, on the
Kyne’s Tear. Gods knew she needed her sleep.
“Niernen? What are you doing up at this hour?” A Southern-accented feline voice asked behind her. Do’Karth approached, finding a position near the gunwale next to her, finding comfort in friendly company. Perhaps she could help him put his mind at ease, or at least make sense of the growing uncertainty that seemed to be following him more and more each day. He had hoped that leaving Dawnstar behind and ideally escaping the Kamal would give him peace he had long forgotten, but his mind seemed to be a siren, singing all sorts of songs that would head him to his doom. Still, he forced a smile, hoping not to betray his thoughts. Niernen had suffered greatly the past several weeks, and she did not need more burdens placed on her.
This one is Do’Karth. He helps others, he is not the one from his dreams. he reassured himself, looking to the sky above.
“Do’Karth always loved the stars, the night sky in general. It makes him feel wonder, even back when he was a cub. They’ve always been something so tranquil and detached from the troubles below.” he observed, hopefully striking up something of a conversation. Considering everything that had happened between them and recent revelations, such as a very hostile older brother with a penchant for over-protectiveness entering the scene, it was a dance one had to practice delicately.
The she-elf almost jumped out of her skin when Do’Karth spoke up and she had to grab the railing with both of her hands to prevent her from tumbling forward and into the sea below. Niernen’s heart thudded in her chest like a galloping Guar and it took several seconds for her breathing to resume. She looked aside to see the Khajiit making himself comfortable next to her and smiled as he talked, glad that he did not seem to have noticed how badly she had been startled. She followed his gaze to the sky and nodded in agreement.
“Me too. I came here for some fresh air but also to see the stars,” she said and swallowed heavily as she thought about the reason she was awake and up here. “I had a nightmare,” Niernen added in a smaller voice, and looked at Do’Karth, her large eyes full of emotion. “Even in my dreams, the Nerevarine haunts me. It’s like he and his minions are always breathing down my neck.” She wallowed in the feeling of the dream for a second, of being watched and judged from all sides, afraid but unable to move, and then shivered. “I don’t want to be captured again.”
Do’Karth listened, feeling somewhat ashamed of feeling grateful he was not the only one dealing with haunting dreams that seemed to bring the past to vivid and wretched light. Even so, he knew Niernen had suffered greatly at the hands of her own people. The betrayal must have shaken her to the core.
He stared into her copper eyes with sympathy, reaching out to take her shoulder. “Do not fear. Do’Karth will do everything he can to make sure you stay free and safe. Everyone on this ship would stand up to those who would do you harm, this one promises. We are sailing West, away from all of that. Besides,” he smiled, amused. “Do’Karth feels as if your brother would tear an entire fleet apart on his own if anyone came for you again. This one feels that a sibling’s love is a powerful thing, no?”
Niernen allowed herself to enjoy the touch of Do’Karth’s fingers on her shoulder for a second while Sevine slept below. “Yes, it is,” she said, answering his question. “But he loves and hates in equal measure. He traveled all the way to Dawnstar, risking the whole life he worked so hard for back home, to tell me that I’m a fool, that everything I’ve done since leaving home is stupid, and that I should go back with him. He hasn’t gotten his wish, as you can see, and I don’t know what he’s going to do. He was
so angry when he learned that I… well, that I like you. That we’re friends, even.”
There it was again, the affection she felt that he’d never be able to reciprocate. Do’Karth removed his hand, interlocking his fingers in front of him against the wooden rail. He felt a flush of embarrassment for confusing the situation with the sensation of touch, it just was one of those things that came naturally to him. The Khajiit knew all too well that Narzul might as well have been the Red Mountain when it came to the built up hatred and fury he likely had for the cat his sister fancied, and Do’Karth hoped it wouldn’t end up like another situation like Leif’s drunken idiocy and challenge for a duel. He did not expect the Dunmer warrior to have any sense of formality or honour in confronting Do’Karth about his sister’s affection, and there was always a chance he’d attack armed when he had him alone. He would have to tread carefully. Do’Karth sighed, unsure of what to make of the situation he found himself in.
She bit her lip and looked away. “He’s a real ash-blooded Redoran with a stick up his ass and he looks down on everyone that isn’t a Dunmer. You should have seen how he talked to Wylendriel, who’s another elf, for crying out loud, while she was healing him! I was so mad… I can’t stay mad at him for very long, though. He did come all the way out here just to protect me. I just don’t know if he’s…” Niernen took a deep breath and sighed. “He got wounded pretty badly on Bleakrock Isle. That’s never happened to him before. He doesn’t seem as stable or as forceful as I remembered him to be.”
Do’Karth nodded. He was all too aware how grievous injuries could change one’s life in unexpected ways. His being here was a testament to that fact.
Suddenly aware of how long she’d been talking, Niernen groaned and scrunched up her face. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to rant. Enough about me and my troubles. Why are you up here?”
“Please, do not worry for voicing what troubles you. Do’Karth would be a terrible friend if he did not listen when a friend needed his ear, no?” he replied with a reassuring upturn of the lips, before his expression grew downcast. “It is a difficult thing what Narzul has done for you. His honour towards family means more to him than his homeland, but it does not mean it is not a difficult choice to make. It was still his decision to choose you above all else, so do not forget that he was willing to sacrifice everything to be with you. Be sure to honour him for that, and this one will keep his distance if it helps the… transition.”
His tail flicked, and his nails dug into his wrists somewhat as his ears folded back, a visual tell that something was bothering him.
“Nightmares chased this one up here, dreams that seem to be conjured up from a past best left buried. It is difficult, and this one is apprehensive for what they might mean. You need to understand that the Khajiit you admire was… troubled. He came from a dark place and he was without Mara’s love or S’rendarr’s mercy, and because of that he did a terrible thing.
“To even speak of this makes Do’Karth fear that the Khajiit he wishes to be erodes away like sandstone in the desert winds, his sense of self worn away to reveal the one he was before in his past life. All you need to understand is that Do’Karth has taken a life in that life, and it was still too many. Since then, this one has wandered Tamriel, trying to do well by those he meets and afraid to form lasting attachments in case he is forced to make a decision he cannot make.” he began to wring his hands, his breaths drawing deeper and more frequent. “These nightmares. They’ve followed this one for many moons since this war began, and more and more frequently. Do’Karth is afraid that what they represent will break through the veil of wakefulness and sleep and consume him.”
While initially surprised to hear Do’Karth say such things about himself, Niernen then smiled ruefully -- it seemed everyone on this cursed ship had a dark past they were trying to escape from. She could have known. Still, it pained her to see the kind, confident Khajiit suffer from anxiety and doubt. Niernen was reminded of the first conversation she and Do’Karth had shared, back in Windhelm, after they had defeated several Kamal invaders together. She had told him of the things she’d done in Black Marsh and how she felt she didn’t deserve to be called a hero. Now it seems their roles were reversed.
“I’m sorry to hear you say that,” she said. Now it was her turn to place a comforting hand on Do’Karth’s shoulder. “Leaving behind your past is hard. Really, really hard. I understand how you feel -- the idea that the person you were and the things you’ve done are still inside there, somewhere deep, buried but ready to strike. If you were capable of murder once,” she paused and took a deep breath, “or terrible war crimes, what’s to say you won’t do so again? What if you hit your limit and snap? Well, that’s where this,” she said and pointed at Do’Karth’s head, “and this,” she added and pointed at his heart, “come into play. I think it’s pretty clear after everything that’s happened since Windhelm that we mortals are not the masters of our own destinies. But we are the masters of our minds. I don’t know exactly what you’ve done and I don’t need to know. But I do know that your soul is pure and your heart is in the right place. If you don’t
want to be consumed by the specters that haunt your nightmares, you won’t be.”
Niernen gathered her lands in her lap again and looked down at them. Her fingers weren’t trembling so badly anymore. “That’s what I believe. It’s what I have to believe, because if that’s not true then you and I are both doomed.” She then laughed and playfully elbowed Do’Karth in the side. “But we’re not. You’re not. Alright?”
The image of driving the spear into Leif’s chest flashed through Do’Karth’s mind, a scenario where one life or another would have been lost depending on his choice. How could he express that that was the thing that was haunting him? After everything he’d experienced since the war started, it almost seemed like such a scenario was all but inevitable. Still, he smiled back. “Perhaps you are right. Do’Karth knows where his heart belongs and has the gods to watch over his steps. Perhaps we just need a vacation somewhere warm, where everyone is too fat and lazy to know how to lift a sword.”
“Oh gods, yes,” Niernen said and laughed. “I would kill for that. Pardon my language.” She fell silent and fidgeted for a bit before asking a question that had been begging to be asked for a while now. “How are you and, well, Sevine?” She kept her gaze averted from Do’Karth’s face and cleared her throat.
Get it together, woman, she said admonishingly to herself.
He’d feared this was coming, and Do’Karth was at a loss for knowing what he could possibly say without causing a rift. Was it impossible to spare Niernen hurt while being honest? Mara knows, he thought. He drummed his claws against the wood, his jaw rolling in concentration. Realizing he was probably sending the wrong message with the pause, he chuckled apologetically. “Please pardon Do’Karth, he’s had a lot on his mind. Things are well, this one is happy. You just reminded him of Leif for a moment, this one is quite thankful that he’s seemingly found his senses once more. Do’Karth considers himself quite fortunate, but… he’s afraid. In his dream he was forced to kill Leif to save Sevine, he had lost his mind while Do’Karth felt nothing. It was a cold, efficient. What someone else would have expected from him long ago.”
He shook his head, looking over to meet Niernen’s eyes. “Do’Karth is truly sorry for the pain he has caused you. Emotions are a strange thing, and he has spent so long trying to keep everyone at an arm’s length to prevent him from having to deal with consequences of attachment, but perhaps Mara has other plans for him. He’s never felt like he deserved to be loved after… well, let’s just say the point this one truly became Do’Karth was a very sudden and painful transformation. How does one spend years trying to atone and feel like he doesn’t deserve lasting happiness and then finds himself looked at with such affection from two women? It is… strange. He does not know how to mend this.”
Eyes widening apologetically, Niernen stammered a reply. “N-no, no, Do’Karth, don’t say that! I don’t blame you for anything. It’s not your fault. It’s just…” She took a deep breath and rubbed the bridge of her nose. “Sevine was there, I wasn’t. A cruel twist of fate, perhaps,” she said and laughed mirthlessly, “but I understand that what’s done is done. You two belong together now.” Niernen tried to keep the bitterness out of her voice. She thought she mostly succeeded.
A pair of arms wrapped around her in a caring embrace. “It is true, perhaps the timing was wrong, but you are a hard person not to like. Perhaps with what you went through, seeing a caring face made you feel stronger than you would have. This one appreciates you, truly. There can be no romance, but you do not have to feel alone. He will be there when you need him, and he will help you heal. Do’Karth cannot imagine what you’ve endured, but not all wounds are physical, he knows this well. Can we remain friends?” he asked, releasing the embrace. Gods, what was he doing? The Khajiit had no idea how to handle situations such as this, he’d never even kissed a girl until a week or so ago. Not for the first time, he was thankful that he was incapable of blushing. Part of him wished to hop over the gunwale and swim away, swifty, from the issues in his life that couldn’t be resolved with a quarterstaff or sewing needle.
Despite herself, and gods knew that she didn’t want this, Niernen wiped away a tear from her cheek after Do’Karth’s arms pulled back and withheld their love from her. The finality of his words, ‘there can be no romance’, had still broken her heart a bit. “Of course,” she whispered, her voice hoarse, and conjured a wan smile. “It would be so much worse to lose you as a friend as well.” She grabbed one of his paws and said: “Sweetheart, you need to know that you deserve to be loved. I think you were a product of your environment, whatever that was, but you were never meant to be that way. You’re
good. And don’t feel bad about me. I’ll be alright.”
She sniffled and buried her face in her hands. “Actually, you should feel bad about me a little bit, I’m pathetic,” she said and laughed through her tears and her fingers.
They were words of validation that did much to alleviate the anxiety and fear he’d felt even just a few moments before.
You were a product of your environment… you were never meant to be that way. he chewed the words over in his mind, letting them seap in like rain into parched soil. He smiled, taking Niernen’s hand from her face and wiping away a tear with the back of his finger from Niernen’s dark skin. “Pathetic? Never. You’re a strong woman, one who is here against incredible odds and circumstances. Do not be ashamed of your emotions and how you feel, but this one will never pity you. Besides, think of all the times you’ve kept me warm in the middle of a fight. It leaves quite the impression.” Do’Karth said with a hearty chuckle, squeezing the hand reassuringly. “Thank you, for everything. You’ve found words that found a way to calm this one’s soul. You have quite a talent for stating things the eye sometimes cannot see.”
Honest laughter rang like a china bell when Do’Karth brought up all the times that Niernen had nearly burned him alive. “Don’t mention it,” she said reassuringly as her tears dried up. She yawned, and then excitedly interrupted herself halfway through. “Oh, look! I’m drowsy! That’s a good sign. Thank you, Do’Karth.” Niernen swung her legs back over the railing and stepped down onto the deck. She felt much better -- crying always helped, and kind words even more. “You should rest too. Here’s my advice: give Sevine a kiss and look at her face until you fall asleep,” Niernen said and winked.
“Of course, rest well, Niernen. Perhaps sleep will find us both well. This one will stay up here for a little while longer, but he will take your advice.” He replied, offering the Dunmer a reassuring smile as he watched her head back towards the gangplank. Turning back to the horizon, he stared at the darkness in the distance. A single bolt of lightning cracked through the sky far in the East.
Auz
Spoopy Scary
Baklava
Silverwind Blade