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]

[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.]

[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?