more ways to break.

[dovahfahdon]

[ Two men settle around a table, low and wooden, rough along the edges. Alain Ebon has made it months ago, but the other man across from him likely doesn't know that.

There's a beat, a moment. Alain thinks to offer. ]

Is there anything you'd like to eat?

Comments

[putrefaction]

["You and yours?" Nigel could fall to sardonics and ask exactly who counts as his.

He chuckles uneasily instead.]

I wouldn't say we would have bonded no matter what. It was just my luck Alan happened to not find me irritating.

[dovahfahdon]

Do you really think he views it as such?

[putrefaction]

[A bitter smile lingers on his lips.]

I wonder. It's less that I distrust his views and more that I can't accept mine.

[dovahfahdon]

Such a fool. Life is too brief for you to mangle true bonds by the excuse of reasoning.

[putrefaction]

Indeed.

[In all sense. Nigel would rather not explore the details.]

You have a nice home.

[dovahfahdon]

I have a wretched home made into something others enjoy by my own hands. I prefer caves, fields, and snow more than this, and I dislike cold.

[ To make his point. ]

I'm not so kind as to allow the subject change.

[putrefaction]

[The tiniest of frowns.]

I'm surprised you built it, then.

[As for the point:]

Yes, I am a fool. There was no denying it.

[dovahfahdon]

I built it because my mother believed my life was only made for servitude and gentle labor. She wished me to be a body-servant to a high ranked official; when I was inducted into the house guard, she was nearly beside herself for the fact of the training. This was something I could do with my own hands, something that I could do, with my own will.

[ Alain gives a trade. He speaks truths he has never told another soul, Man, Mer, or Dov. ]

It was not the fact of foolishness that I wished you to think on.

[putrefaction]

[The man passes as an existence beyond Nigel's paygrade, and he speaks of a truth Nigel can empathize with. It is a trade--Nigel understands that much--but where he might fall to abridgement, he opts otherwise.

Blue-green eyes settle on the grain in the wood.]

Alan loves me. I cannot live without him. We exist as a bond, yes, but what else can I do but mangle it? Subject that precious man to my stagnation? Perhaps he will finally understand and leave me.

[Before Nigel ruins him.]

[dovahfahdon]

[ Alain will not call Nigel a fool again. The child is more willing to speak, and Alain forgives him on that.

Instead, the man reaches out again, to press his palm to the side of the other's head. ]

He will never leave you. Niall and I can both see and speak for that. Your existence does not pain him, and you, Nigel, are nothing close to the stagnation you claim to hold.

[ Let the Dragonborn tell you of stagnation, of what he has seen. Let him describe to you mages caught in theories, Nords in prejudices, and kings in times past. Let him tell you further of his family, and that death. ]

You love Alan, and he cannot live without you.

[putrefaction]

[Nigel cannot answer Alain. Not with the hand pressed against his hair. Instead, he stares at the blurs and contemplates the meaning. He wonders at what exactly he claims to hold.

If Alain was Alan, Nigel might cry. As Alain is Alain, Nigel allows silence to overrun him, to choke down the urge and give rise to a state of apathy.]

[dovahfahdon]

[ This child. ]

...Don't mourn what you have not lost.

[putrefaction]

It's what I do best.

[Though he's sure this is becoming annoying.]

But I'm not so rude as to reject your advice when under your roof.

[dovahfahdon]

[ The Dragonborn coughs a sound of amusement, not unfamiliar, and removes his hand. ]

Then we'll go outside to continue speaking, if that's your reasoning.

[putrefaction]

[Nigel cannot help the small smile.]

How unfair.

[dovahfahdon]

So I've been told.

[ HEADING TO THE DOOR, C'MON BITCH, GET IN THE CAR. ]

[putrefaction]

[...Wow, Alain. You suddenly went redneck. Nigel will still follow you to the car, though.]

Well, I am used to gross unfairness.

[dovahfahdon]

[ Wow, bro. That is total urban-suburban speak. Skyrim suburbs, coming to a Hold near you. ]

So I'm sure.

[ Outside, it's edging evening, twilight, and Alain tenses suddenly when they're out the door. ]

[putrefaction]

[Redneck, urban, Morthal, Riften, it's all the same.]

...What is it?

[Nigel is not so stupid to miss a shift.]

[dovahfahdon]

[ ..................Morthal is so much better than Riften, you ho. ]

Bad timing.

[ Nothing yet, except Alain has learned to be wary of this time. A hand moves to the mace at his belt, as his second hand moves through the motions of casting a spell.

In a moment, it is cast, five blue auras heading towards them at a distance. ]

...Your choice. Inside to safety, or a perch to wait?

[putrefaction]

[Well. Two choices and only one of remote interest. Pity he won't have a fellow spectator to commentate on the proceedings--what with this failure of a working eye.]

I'll take a perch.

[dovahfahdon]

On the stable then, and stay low.

[ That said, he trusts the child enough to listen, and Alain heads out, further away from his house to meet them. The blue glow against his hand has turned to teal, the spell cast in an instant--the same color surrounds him for a moment, and then a swirling blue-violet has encased his hand.

There are cries of "Dawnguard!" heard now, and Alain near rolls his eyes. ]

[putrefaction]

Okay.

[Alain actually trusts Nigel. How very not like another white-haired individual. He could gag on the distinction.

Regardless, Nigel wastes no time and effort in reaching the stable roof. As promised, the man lays low, just as he overhears footsteps and voices. "Dawnguard," they cry, and he remembers from past lessons that they are the vampire hunters. Alain's opponents for today, therefore, must be vampires.

...It's so third-rate that Nigel cannot find the adequate words to describe how third-rate it is.]

...I obviously need to think of fire enemies next time. -_-;;

[dovahfahdon]

[ Alain allows his attention to separate until Nigel is tucked firmly against the roof, then his spell is cast, the fire atronach flowing forth with abandon. He takes a moment to marvel at these creatures and their weaknesses, for again he is set upon by those with a dire sensitivity to flame, and, mana pool still large enough, he casts the same spell again, bringing forth another atronach.

By then, the vampires reach him, and he lashes out at the closest apprentice, taking a full gout of their vitality draining spell from the master. He grimaces from the effects and swings outward, attempting to break the ring the weaker creatures set up to trap him in for their master. The fire atronachs steal the attention of the others, and a third swing is enough to down the creature, the body falling bonelessly.

Alain has no eyes for it. One weak apprentice does not take the threat of the rest away, and he snarls, inhales.

Takes in air, and breathes out flame. ]

Yol-Toor-Shul!

dunmer bandits. dunmer bandits everywhere.

[putrefaction]

[When flames erupt in the near distance, Nigel finds that his assessment could use adjusting. He's neglected the fact of an impressive Dragonborn with an equally impressive repertoire of sparkly things. He has also neglected to take into account his love for flares and explosions, for the living to turn to ash from a single spark.

From his perch, Nigel watches as red and orange flicker and flare in the night as weapons and bodies clash in battle. Then the one he has learned to call Alain Ebon inhales to breathe out flame, words of power coming out in a rush.

Pretty, Nigel thinks. So very pretty.]