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]

[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.]

[dovahfahdon]

[ The attack pattern changes, and Alain Ebon is caught unaware for a moment when the apprentices dart backward, the master coming to the forefront, blade and spell in hand. Vampires, like most, were creatures of habit, and the master would never risk himself when there were still apprentices to be slain. But here is the creature, once an Imperial, now undead, and it snarls at him, opens a fanged mouth. Alain has his barrier in place, but the spell is too faulty-- It drains too much of the magicka he has no wish to waste.

The creature seems to understand that, and worsens the stream of vitality draining energy. Alain has a brief wish for Serana's presence.

And as if that is a call, the creature before him smiles. ]

"Lord Harkon sends his regards, Dragonborn."

[ How trite. The vampire spoken of has been dead for near a year. Alain recasts, shoots out flame. The master curses and jumps back-- Apprentices attempting to slash at Alain while he is distracted.

Except he has not lived this long for distractions. ]

Fus-Ro-Dah!

[ The three weaker vampires stumble backward, and Alain again shifts his spell. Violet glows and he summons-- A storm atronach, lightning and stone, in a swirling mass of destruction. It spins into the stunned trio and sends them flying, lightning after them. The fire atronachs follow suit, burning the apprentices as they go.

Leaving the master. And the Dragonborn before him. ]

[putrefaction]

[Admiration flickers as sense regains its hold, and even as his faltering eye and second vision cannot perceive the creatures, Nigel catches the shift in the air. He wonders what might have changed.

From what he understands of the fabled Dragonborn, perhaps such prospects do not matter.

Words are exchanged, both common and not, causing bodies to scrape against dirt. Flame and sparks erupt in turn, both from Alain's atronachs, and as if in a trance, Nigel stills.]

[dovahfahdon]

[ It is here that Alain considers. The dark-haired vampire, that undead Imperial. He remembers the creature. It resided in Volkihar Keep alongside many others, and vanished after Alain and Serana slayed her father. And here it would resurface for some kind of retribution, or some other equally viewed righteousness, and all Alain thinks is--

This vampire is quite strong, isn't he--

So let the Dragonborn show the creature that his title is not for show. ]

Tid-Klo-Ul!

[ Time slows perfectly in the space around Alain. The flame and storm atronachs attack in slow motion--a vampire brightening to turn to ash in a blazing display that is caught, extended, even as the others hold out frozen limbs to defend.

While the master vampire is nearly caught entirely. It is enough for Alain to try out a shout rarely used, one that would benefit well from the slowed time. The dragons have a spell much like the vampire's vitality draining spell-- But like with all things, the dragons' version is far better. ]

Gaan-Lah-Haas!

[ And in the slowed time, the creature's life force begins to dwindle-- The vampire feels it, knows what it signifies even with the delay, and it struggles to move, to attack--

The dragons' version is far stronger, and slips the life from the master without Alain ever raising a hand.

Time speeds up again right as the vampire dies. It cries out, a terrible, choking cry, one of hopelessness and need and the abject misery of a death that meant nothing--

The atronachs finish their task and fade back into the ether. Alain stares down at the dark-haired vampire's body. ]

...You fool. Harkon has been dead for months. You could have lived for far more.

[putrefaction]

[To a man of Nigel's caliber, the sheer amount of power displayed has the potential to fry neural connections, disrupting the flow of logical thought in favor of my god and ooh, shiny. When the last of the vampires finally screams its death throes, Nigel finds himself mindblown and unable to move.

Unable because there is an incredibly awkward pressure building between his legs. On instinct, he's aware that this pressure is bound to make life much more difficult for him upon discovery.

So he remains as he is, laying on top of the stable roof as Alain originally asked.]

[dovahfahdon]

[ Nothing of value is on the creatures not burned to ash, and so Alain begins to walk back, something like weight on him. The mace is strapped back to his hip, and he pushes a hand to press back damp hair. The stable is reached within moments, and he finds himself wishing the walk had been longer.

Harkon. Valerica. And even Serana. It has been a long time since Alain had considered the mess of circumstance that had surrounded them.

Nigel is here, however, and Alain prioritizes on the living child. Calls softly to the night. ]

...Are you all right?

[putrefaction]

[When a voice calls from the darkness, it takes the entirety of his willpower to not yelp and stumble through his words.]

I'm...fine. Yourself?

[dovahfahdon]

[ ...The strange reply is worrisome, and Alain's mind instantly moves through the battle, wondering if a stray bolt had hit the child at some point.

He puts a hand up, reaches to the roof with the intention of pulling himself up. ]

Nigel. Are you hurt?

[putrefaction]

[...Alain. Alain. Please for the love of all that is decent, you mustn't come up to the roof. Not until a part of Nigel has calmed down.

He pokes his head out for Alain to see, his cheeks surprisingly pale for an embarrassed man.]

Not at all. My leg's just asleep. Give me a moment.

[To picture the least attractive thing possible in his mind.]

[dovahfahdon]

[ The child sounds okay, and Alain releases his hold on the roof of the shelter. Does so and laughs quietly. ]

I forget you've lived a sheltered life.

[ AKA NOT ONE IN TAMRIEL. ]

[putrefaction]

[Imagination proves unnecessary as Alain's remark kills anything Nigel might have held.]

Haha, yes. Sheltered.

[Ugh. Nigel quietly gets down from the roof.]

[dovahfahdon]

[ A quiet Dragonborn waits him on the ground, and Alain thinks to touch Nigel's shoulder--

Rethinks when his hands are recalled as instruments of destruction. He is silent, then wonders softly. ]

Would you still like to talk?

[putrefaction]

[A straw of hay is brushed from his sleeves when Alain questions. Nigel finishes the task before answering.]

Well, all mourning ceased at the arrival of your guests. I do, however, want to ask about what you told me earlier.

[A pause.]

In regards to your past.

[dovahfahdon]

[ He looks at the other. ]

You wish for things to remain unbalanced? For me to offer more, and you to give none?

[putrefaction]

I have no wish to be unfair.

[Another pause.]

What would you like to know?

[dovahfahdon]

You have not lost anything here.

[ Referring to Alan, of course; Alain's temperamental doppelganger. ]

Why, then, are you so intent to mourn?

[putrefaction]

[Why? Alain would ask, and Nigel would shudder. He would still answer as required.

It takes him a minute. Only a minute.]

I had older brothers once. Twins. They had boundless will and energy--the sort of beings who leave an impression even after they've vanished from your sight. They were my life. Once.

[In another life. He smiles sadly.]

I tried to continue. Honest. I tried to find a reason for living, but each one never quite worked out. [They died. They disappeared.] I guess mourning is my modus operandi--my habit.

[dovahfahdon]

[ Alain cannot say he knows the sort. The description is of heroes, it seems; those in legends and stories. The type that burns and scalds all those around them. Leaving an impression, as Nigel says.

And leaving a echo ache when they've passed.

Touching the other would be disrespectful here. Alain keeps his distance. ]

I understand.

[ And he does: The Dragonborn is solemn, holds to stillness. ]

Reasons for living are not always found so easily. It's far easier to simply "continue," without any attempt for true life.

[ The man has draconic habits--Alain would laugh another day. ]

...And it's difficult when life appears before you, in a form that can leave.

[putrefaction]

[The smile gains a bashful quality before vanishing into serenity. Nigel whispers his response.]

In the form of a familiar ghost.

[White and at times, dangerously violet. He clears his throat and proceeds at a normal tone.]

It's funny. How easily life can slip away and yet can be taken for granted without a thought.

[dovahfahdon]

[ So Alan--and possibly Alain--resembled a person who left Nigel's life. A horrible curse, then, to be so reminded of what had left.

To think that one who looks alike would fall to the same folly. It's a painful thought, but one that must haunt. And nothing Alain could do or say would affect that. Still.

Still. ]

Then don't let it slip away.

[putrefaction]

[Then don't let it slip away. It causes an echo to rise from the inky black and weight to fall into his stomach.

Until then, hold onto what you have.]

Is it right for me to claim him? Alan deserves more than I can give.