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]

[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.

[dovahfahdon]

[ The Dragonborn's brow draws together in thought. All of Nigel's words come with weight, value, and Alain considers all of it carefully. Considers, and moves on. ]

Claim him.

[ He states, purely and absolute. ]

It is not about deserving. No one deserves anything.

[ Did Alain deserve a dragon's devotion, after abandoning his family and their place for him? ]

We find happiness, though. Joy, for a time. Fulfillment. And those things are what matters.

[putrefaction]

[Happiness. Joy. Fulfillment. Are they truly what matters? Nigel cannot truly say.]

And his freedom?

[Pain flutters behind blue-green eyes and touches the corner of his lips.]

If I claim him, he will never escape me. For better or worse.

[dovahfahdon]

[ He watches this child. Watches and thinks he quite young. Young, and so much in pain. ]

...And you do not think this is what he wants?

[ To be claimed. Kept. Beside another forever. ]

[putrefaction]

[He blinks. Swallows the tears with a flutter of his eyelids.]

It hurts him sometimes, I think. I am not...healthy enough to respond properly, and when he is kind, I...

[I break him. Nigel cannot finish.]

I do not think this is what he needs.

[dovahfahdon]

[ He watches. Only that. ]

There is nothing wrong with you, Nigel. You may feel that way, but I can assure you. One could not pick up the arts of Man and Mer so simply if there was.

[ That is not the point, however, and-- ]

Ask him his needs. Don't try to define them for him. I've been told I need structure, ownership, mastery, a woman, house and home, more and less. What my needs are fulfilled by is a dragon, of a breed that seeks to destroy and enslave all other living creatures.

None would tell me to look for my needs there. And yet, there it is.

[putrefaction]

[There are points he knows and knows well. He is, despite Alan's repeated claim, far from stupid.

His head is beginning to hurt, and despite everything, Nigel smiles bitterly.]

I will ask him. Thank you, Alain.

[dovahfahdon]

[ This child. He wishes he knew how to comfort him. Comfort is not what Nigel needs, however. ]

Ask what you wanted of my past.

[putrefaction]

[His price paid, Nigel proceeds. The asking is something straightforward, cast in a different light.]

Your former life, the one your mother wanted you to live... What caused you to escape it?