Because, like Mercer, Isran just does something for me. I think its his voice. My little Khajiit - they are really little, has anyone else noticed? Probably - has dark fur and white war paint in dots across her face and she wears the Savior's Hide; her name is Sonja.
There will be a full story for this pairing and my own twisty - twisted? - version of the Dawnguard plot line, but this is just to soothe my plot bunnies losing their fucking minds inside of mine.
"I like you."
Blunt. Straight to it.
A perfect way to ruin Isran's life.
She told him the third day she was at the Fort. He was agitated with her, thinking her just a leech or beggar using their Fort as a free place to live, full of free food and easy access to weapons no normal vendor could have. He was going to tell her to leave, to get out of his Fort if she wasn't going to fight vampires.
She stayed at the top of the Fort, said she loved sleeping under the stars. When he reached her little nest - bedroll, stack of books and her knapsack - he found brief interest in a sword that crackled and hummed with electricity the blade thin and long, like one he had seen a long time ago in some old book. The Akavari? Akaviri? Something like that.
He remembered why he was up there when he heard the snap of a bow string. It was light and had he been just anyone, he would have not noticed it. She was at the edge of protection the raised stone of the balcony offered and was pulling a fresh arrow from her quiver of Elven moonstone. She aimed it down with the long, carved, bow in her hand and fired; when he heard the faint cry, he thought she had shot a human, but she noticed him before he could assume.
"Blooded Vampire," she murmured, Elswyr accent twisted and husky. "Third one tonight," she cradled an arrow against her bowstring when she looked at him. "Yes Isran?"
Her eyes shined with the power of her kin, Night Eye, and he was reminded of the moonstone used to create those arrows. "Leech," he spat. "You won't fight, won't don the armor - why are you here?"
She blinked slowly. "Well, for one, I've been gathering your little followers for the past week," she sheathed the arrow and pulled the bow around her. "Two, I have been fighting, you're just too daft to realize it," she approached him slowly, bare feet noiseless against the stone. "And three..." she smirked and brushed against his chest; he was actually stunned. Isran, stunned, boy the others would get a kick out of this. "I like you."
He'd never kissed a Khajit before, and it was weird. Their mouths didn't quite fit and her teeth made his natural instincts twitch but she was the patiant one this time. He felt useless and...embarrassed. When she pulled away, he had to clear his throat; jeez, he felt really old. She was looking at him like a project, brow gently furrowed but a smile smile to those lips.
"Now," she chuckled. "I guess I can go hunt some more..." she grabbed that sword and the doors burst open; it was Celaan.
"What is it," Isran gruffed out, a slight hitch in his throat; she chuckled again.
"A vampire is here," he looked to Sonja. "She's looking for you."
Isran looked to Sonja, who had an odd look on her face. Before she could walk away, Isran grabbed her arm, a mixture of confused, pissed and intrigued.
"Why," she knew what he meant, and he didn't think he could ask the full inquiry aloud.
She chuckled. "Didn't wanna go out there and die before letting you know."
She shrugged him off and gestured for him to follow her. And he did, as he knew he always would. He just, genuinely, hoped he would get to return the gesture after this was all over.
And there we go, plot bunnies satisfied for the moment. Ignore any spelling mistakes, I'm kind of in a hurry. Oh, and review. That would be nice.