So.. Dragon Age: Origins.
Yep.
WHY CAN'T I BE DHALISH AND MARRY MY LOVE?! *sob*
Anyway. Sorry this is late. This chapter took quite a bit of liberties with my descriptive talent.
My Tumblr has me wanting to play Mass Effect again...
Shadowmere looked up and whinnied when the Imperial came over, seething still, even after meeting S'Koi outside the inn.
The cat hissed as she saw Lucien coming over. "Where is Elymi?" He glared at her, already angry and gently pushed her shoulder to move her aside. "I'm going to find out."
She growled low in her throat. "She is in danger. I do not know what she did when she healed me but I can feel a whisper of what she does." Lucien's brow furrowed and he looked over his shoulder. S'Koi relaxed, fur softening from its bristle. "Hurry, human. Divines may be her only hope."
Lucien petted Shadowmere's neck then hauled himself into her saddle, feeling odd as he had not ridden her in a long period of time. Elymi.. your behind is small. "To Anvil. Do not stop until we reach the gates." He, unusual to what he would normally do, nearly struck the horse with his heels, urging her into a fast gallop.
The man's hood fell back as he leaned forward, squinting against the wind pelting his face. Guards fell off their horses trying to get out of the way. Lucien didn't care and Shadowmere vaulted over many of the creatures that attempted to stop them.
Sithis have Elymi kneel by your side should we be too late. Lucien held tight to Shadowmere's mane and bowed his head, ducking a branch that threatened to have his head. Should we make it, keep her by mine.
She woke in pain, breath rasping up her throat, each second she lived caused pain to rattle across her body. Voices, soft and comforting, told her to remain still.
"Should your wounds re-open. We do not want you in greater peril than you are already." Something soft and damp pressed against her forehead, warmth soothed the pain that arched from her side to her chest. The elf could not see as she had not opened her eyes but she could hear and sense.
Women, maybe three and a man, stood about her, whispering softly as to not hurt her ears or cause her distress. No echo. Small room. A healer's quarters. She opened her mouth to speak but a hush from her right had her closing it slowly.
"Go back to sleep. You need to rest and heal." She nodded but did not sleep. When the room had emptied and gone silent, she opened her eyes, still seeing the woman's head when she blinked. Sithis save me from that for it will become a nightmare, I'm sure.
The room was stone, all soft yellow from the candles lighting it and warm, from a fireplace. She hissed softly as she sat up, ears heating from feeling the only thing covering her was the blanket sitting atop her. Wait, my armour. She looked around and frowned. She couldn't see it anywhere. She slowly slipped off the bed, taking slow deep breaths to hold back the waves of pain from her side. That blade must have been poisoned. Damn would should have healed easily.
She leaned down, looking at the scars littering her right thigh. I'm cursed with being unable to heal completely, aren't I? She sucked in a breath and stood.
Then promptly fell onto the floor.
She growled, starting at her legs that had deemed it a good idea to not support her weight, her light purple hair falling over her shoulders in soft, unbrushed ringlets. Someone has washed my hair. She groaned and lifted herself back onto the bed.
A soft whisper echoed in her mind but she couldn't make it out. Something blocked it from her mind. I may need to get out of this place. Her side ached when she breathed in and she huffed, staring at the ceiling, flinching when catches of skeletal hands and a dark swirling mass danced in and out of her vision.
She closed her eyes and relaxed, feeling and hearing her back pop. Sleep first.
Shadowmere stopped slowly, her body shaking under the strain of having to gallop for several days to get to Anvil. Lucien patted her neck and slipped out of the saddle. "Good girl. Go, rest, you deserve it." He rubbed her ear and neck then opened the corral gate so she could walk into it and rest with the other horses. Unbuckling the clasp at his neck and his belt, Lucien pulled off his black robes, wearing civilian clothing underneath. Shadowmere made no protests as he opened her saddle bag and pressed his robes into it, sealing it tightly after.
The guard frowned at him but made no move to stop the imperial as he stepped past the gates and into the city. He walked slowly, as if he knew the city well, he almost did, towards the Counts Arms, deeming that his first place of investigation.
The man behind the counter glanced up as the imperial strode over, placed the book he was reading down and smiled. "Welcome stranger, what can I do for you?" Lucien glanced about the room, noting where the few patrons were. "I am searching for my friend. She was here with an orc, almost a week ago. She went missing." The innkeep scratched his head. "A dark elf?" At the nod, he continued. "I think she was taken to the Chapel to be healed."
Lucien bowed his head in thanks, turned and left.
The daylight sky hurt Lucien's eyes when he left the inn, the dark, fire lit room being a striking contrast to the outside world. The chapel stood tall, as usual, as Lucien walked to it, eyebrow raising at the 'prophet' shouting to all those who will listen, and won't. He stopped and blinked a few moments, not at the prophet or his nonsense.
No, at the person that stood behind him. At ease and comfortable, but clearly alert but the set of the shoulders.
A woman, by her slight stature. Her attire made him doubt this thought and fact.
She was dressed as a knight.
A knight of the forgotten order.
A Knight of The Nine.
Yep. Don't try and type stories while depressed or tired, or hungry, or angry.
Just don't. It doesn't work out.
Trust me. I'm usually 3 of those four at all times.