part one
frostbitten
A living nightmare, that is the life Mannimarco supposes he lived. For too long, he inhabited a body that was failing. A decaying thing. He knew the life of a Lich was long and very painful. The pain was earned.
Immediately after the change, and one step closer to immortality, his skin was beautiful. White alabaster that was no different from any Altmer. A few years later, he noticed the first of the changes. Wounds would heal less quickly. When pieces of his flesh tore off it wouldn't necessarily grow back…it would just sit there.
Then came the weakness, the one thing he didn't have the foresight to notice. He knew there would be a price to this kind of immortality, there always was. Losing mobility, skin peeling, and living as a walking corpse was not something he bargained for.
That's what made the second phase of his immortality so great. It was limitless. Endless. There was no threat to him now, barring one thing.
Nothing to think about at the moment. Mannimarco, now back in his youthful and fully intact body, brushes that thought aside with a dark smudge on the orb. The circular glass shines brighter, emitting a glow that bathed his face in a green light.
He moves his hand over the orb again, shifting the view. The Orb of Vaermina was…difficult to obtain. Extremely so. But it is well worth the price.
Mannimarco's pale hand pauses right over the edge. He glances at it, almost distracted by the fullness of it. The last time he was in his body, the flesh was nearly gone. Almost taken down to the bone. Then, the picture in the center of the Orb catches his attention.
His bride was alive. She was breathing and smiling. At what, he didn't know. He wished he did. He cared little for the romance of things, but after all these years, he has to admit, he has grown curious of her.
Her pale face is raised to sun, her youthful eyes crinkle with the happiness that only laugher could bring. Her golden gaze roams something Mannimarco cannot see. But he doesn't have to. He knows now where she is going. To a very cold and very treacherous land. The necromancer studies her face a little more. She's not necessarily beautiful in the classic sense, but she has a charm. A certain cuteness to her. It would be a shame for someone like her to freeze so badly her skin peeled off.
Mannimarco knew that feeling all too well. He lived it, for too long. He watches her face again and decides he will follow her path, all the way to Volkihar Castle and behold what she has in store. She doesn't need him quite yet. The bargain hasn't started yet anyway. Soon. Soon, it would.
Her smile fades. Making her look more doll-like. Beautiful. That was beautiful, her expression was of one who fell into deep thought often. Not something the necromancer has seen in a long, long while. He supposes the world is slowly decaying and rotting with a lack of imagination and education. At least his bride has the right mind about her.
Mannimarco pauses with his hand right over the Orb, about to allow it to rest, then he sees it. The person following her all the way to the frigid north. He's a vampire, he appears to be young. But he could be any age. He could be far older than she is. Mannimarco studies the man for a moment. He is brash, loud, bold, uninteresting. Beautiful. Amusing.
His hand trembles, slightly. This is interesting, two vampires running around together, and not even bound to a coven. Hopefully, for this man's sake, it will only stay interesting for a short time. Or else he might not like what will come to pass.