[ Hello babes. As you might’ve already noticed I am not here most of the time, maybe once in two weeks if even that. I’ve lost Brii almost completely because of multiple reasons, so…
I’m going to be putting this blog on indefinite semi-hiatus. This means I won’t be here for some periods of time, coming only back to make replies or start new threads when I feel like Brii. I just can’t delete her because she means a lot to me, she’s my second oldest muse anyway. I’ve put much time and effort to her but I just… Have lost her for now. After losing my group nothing matters to me on this account.
My main roleplaying blog is here, you’ll find me behind the link from now on. If you want to unfollow me or drop threads or both, feel free to. Thank you for reading. ]
My favorite skyrim dragon pics
i wonder how many times ive reblogged something that i thought was photography or space or something but really it was just skyrim
valar dohaeris. a l l m e n m u s t s e r v e .
"Days?" The elf-child’s brows raised in unison, the dirty face taking on a look of surprise. "Have you have been wandering in the jungle for days?”
With teeth digging into her bottom lip, Ehtinis turned and began moving toward the busy area, motioning for Briidunviing to follow. Golden eyes flicked around, trying to find a specific familiar face in the sparse crowd.
"How did you come to the jungle?" The question slipped out of the Bosmer’s mouth just before a Khajiit walked into her path, causing Ehte to quickly dodge and give an apology in her native tongue. The cat hissed something back, barely more than a whisper, as he stalked away.
Briidunviing had thought that this beast blood had also been orphan due to her messy face but… It seemed she was wrong. It brought some suspicions to her and she wouldn’t have wanted to answer Ehte at all —- she thought everything through very carefully. Such was the life of an orphan. "No, only a day or less. I—- Where are you going!?" A small pause as she quickly followed the mer child with swift steps as she shot forward to the crowd. "—-I counted not."
She didn’t trust the other child, nothing but, yet did she have many options left than to speak out? She had been saved by this other one, after all. Otherwise she would probably starve even more, it resulting her to just lay down somewhere and suffer there, who knew for how long. Briidunviing looked all around her tailing the Wood Elf as best as she could answering getting winded. "I took a carriage but it left me to the jungle."
He softened a bit at her apology. The towers of Dragonsreach grew larger by the moment, and soon Vilkas could make out the stables; he would be home soon. “You don’t need to be sorry,” he told her. “How in the world did you get yourself into that mess, anyway? I mean, I haven’t known anyone who enjoys napping with giants.” As he teased her, Vilkas was trying to figure out what in the world had happened back there.
"Brii- ah," he should have listened to her warning. "Right. Do you have any nicknames, by chance?" Vilkas noted to himself the oddness of her name. It wasn’t the likes of which he had ever heard. Perhaps her parents simply had a taste for the flamboyant. "You don’t live in Whiterun, do you? I’m not sure I’ve ever seen you around here before."
She chuckled, understanding the joke, tightening her grip from Vilkas’ arm. It was rather funny now that she was thinking of it through —- a werewolf bounty hunting, then suddenly his mission had turned to saving a dragon from the giant he was up to kill. Briidunviing was still little unsure how in Nirn did she get to that cave in the first place but she assumed she had been knocked off and considered as a meal or… Something like that. An another lie would be necessary to spill. "Take my advice —- never sleep close to giant tracks."
“Just Brii, that is what I am being called.” It was nothing but a surprise that Vilkas didn’t know how to pronounce her name —- neither would’ve she. To the announcement of living in Whiterun Briidunviing only dashed forward in an energetic manner turning around to Vilkas and clasping her hands behind her back. "Ah no, I live near Falkreath!" The dragon cocked her head to the side, smile drawing to her lips."What about you, Companion? Have you always lived in Whiterun?"
A small wandering and during this time Gentaro had already managed visit her mountain during this time? With soft steps she returned from her walk, reaching the summit and her Word Wall, resin optics immediately noticing a basket on the ground. With a slight cock of a head and confused look did the dragon kneel down, turning the note hanging from the handle of the basket for her to see.
In case you get hungry. From your friend, Gentaro.
She couldn’t help but smile in surprise, picking up the basket and opening it, looking inside.
"—-Thank you." She muttered to herself, grateful of the sacrifice Gentaro had made leaving things as such for her.
Sera is scared; there was no use for her to deny that. She was likely a small enough for a snack for this dragon as the woman was likely too thin to make for a hearty meal if this dragon should have a taste for blood.
The poor seeress nearly jumped when she spoke, at least, she thought the dragon sounded like a female but who was she to hear the difference. “A-Are you s-sure? Y-you’re n-not hurt or a-anything a-are you?” Sera asked, cautiously at loud as she could but likely is too soft-spoken.
The fear was more than visible from the slender figure of a woman before her as was also from her voice and stuttering —- Briidunviing found some comfort in that in the state of mind she was in. It certainly wasn’t a good thing but she couldn’t help it —- the inborn nature she was built for was always there, no matter how much she denied it. The dragon wanted to be alone, at least she thought so.
Offering an hand out stretched hand toward the small creature, she wiggled her fingers as it for make coming closer more tempting.
"I don’t suppose you can understand me…" Dianne murmured softly, her own golden eyes watching the nervous little thing in front of her. She wondered where it had come from. If it had an anxious mother or father waiting or even an owner. Though; who would have a pet dragon?
Preparing to let out an another scream she suddenly halted. The little thing as she was, Briidunviing tilted her head to the side, curiosity filling the mind of not very long ago hatched baby, yet she didn’t move at all despite the wiggles of Dianne’s fingers.
She was afraid, alone, left there —- Briidunviing didn’t exactly know by who.
Scouts was more than relieved that she didn’t seem offended. He had always had a silver tongue, but he could barely stand, let alone carry on a conversation with someone. He probably should have been inside, resting.
"Oh," he said, his tone little more than a grunt of surprise. One would think that someone who’d grown up in Skyrim would have learned to bundle up—then again, perhaps she had grown used to the cold. And it was none of his business what she wore, anyway.
"To each their own, land-strider," he said, mustering up one of those little Argonian grins, made so charming by the awkward movement of the snout. "What brings you to Windhelm?"
Just when the conversation was about to become very awkward as Briidunviing blushed a little of her choice of clothing —- which she pretty much couldn’t change —-, it took a pleasant turn.
At that moment, listening to Scouts, she couldn’t just understand why people were so racist and cruel towards Argonians, they weren’t so different from anyone else. It was true —- they had been invading Morrowind and Solstheim for quite a long time already in hunger of power and pushed their own race over the borders of Black-Marsh, but… Was it still justified to blame it on every Argonian ever? They had their characters, opinions and personal views too.
As the question came from Scouts Briidunviing brushed a swirl of brown hair from her face to the side. "Merely wandering around. Windhelm is a new place for me." It sure must’ve sounded pretty strange —- considering how bad city Windhelm was… Why would anyone want to just wander around in it?
collections that are raw as fuck ➝ monique lhuillier s/s 2014