Author's Note: I said this would be out before Friday, and here it is! I'm still incredibly busy, but the next chapter is most definitely going to be something different. It's probably going to be a good deal longer than this one, for the record. About 5 times as long, and in a different style. (It's drafted out already so it should be up some time next week.)

haydenunstopable, this one is for you! Forgive me for taking liberty with your prompt, but since you weren't too specific, I just did what I wanted :)
I hope you like it even if it doesn't turn out to be what you were expecting.
I'm planning to do something in this vein for the next drabble chapter, since I've gotten this one out of the way, so if you were expecting something else then be on the lookout. Feel free to send in some more of these open ended prompts, I had a lot of fun trying out this one!

Please review! I really do need feedback, even if it's only minimal. Thank you so much, you guys are amazing!

Disclaimer: Not mine, of course

Sylgja doesn't even want to know what happened when she gets home. At first glance, the house looks like the victim of some particularly inane prank. It's partially covered in a viscous substance, which falls from the roof in large drops, and is pooling in the shrubbery at their front door. As she gets closer, she discovers that said substance is multicolored, and there are small bins and brushes lying about. Then realization hits, and she glances to her wife, who is standing in the entryway of their small house.

"Is this… paint?"

Arane winces, trying to hide paint- for yes, Sylgja perceives, it is paint- covered hands behind her back. There are streaks of red adorning her face, and since she's in plainclothes, the various splotches of purples, greens, and other colors are glaringly obvious. It would be almost endearing, that is, if their house hadn't been the victim. Sylgja is thankful that Lydia is temporarily out of town. Lydia might have a heart attack if she comes back and the house still looks like this. In fact, a sudden thought occurs to her, isn't the longsuffering woman coming back tomorrow? She sighs, and resists the urge to bury her head in her hands. Having a yelling match is not going to help anything, and it certainly won't get them anywhere.

"Where are the children, Aranel."

The question can't even be classified as such, considering the flatness with which it is delivered. Aranel just looks even guiltier, and from behind her the door opens.

"Has mama come back yet?"

Aranel slams the door shut, ignoring the muffled squeaks which come from behind the now shut door. She grins, clearly nervous. Sylgja just stares.

"So I'm sure you want to know what happened to our house."

Sylgja merely gestures at the one side of the house which is covered, and then motions for her to go ahead. Aranel swallows, and then with a wolfish grin begins spinning a tale.

"While you were away doing business with Eorlund and all the merchants in town, we were obviously attacked. I had taken the kids… outside the city, to get a breath of fresh air. A highwayman set upon us, meaning the kids and myself, while we were outside of the walls, and I was forced to kill him. I quickly dispatched of one, but he had apparently called in friends, and they ambushed us while we were on our way back. I sent the kids back to the house, and dealt with the rest of my foes, only to come back and find that the kids had been kidnapped! *So tragic, I know.* The villains had carved a ransom message into the left side of the house, which was in rather ugly handwriting - is it writing if it's carved into a wall? It was full of expletives, too. I rescued the kids, and we took it upon ourselves to protect the innocent villager's eyes from that note by painting the side of the wall. It's… it's not quite done yet, obviously."

Sylgja can't quite refrain from laughing. She has absolutely no idea what possessed Aranel to paint the side of the house, as she is (most likely) not telling the truth. Or what made her drag the children into this weird painting crusade. Then again,there is the very slight chance that her wife is telling the truth. Stranger things have happened.

Out of the corner of her eye, she notices something. Several of the townsfolk are creeping closer, obviously wondering why she is standing in the middle of the road. If they get any closer, she's going to have to start beating them off with a broom. Or Aranel's ebony sword. Either is fine with her. She hisses to Aranel, "Are you going to do something about this blasted paint on the wall before they start wondering? Or are you just going to leave it like that?"

Aranel examines the wall, obviously not having thought about this. Some of the townsfolk have glimpsed her handiwork on the wall, and are laughing amongst themselves. While they have mostly learned to deal with her little idiosyncrasies, this one is new. Definitely new. In fact, if these small things continue, it seems as if they won't have reason to fear the Dragonborn anymore. Sylgja knows this, and she pushes Aranel towards the wall.

"Fix it, genius. If you can come up with a tale like the one you just rattled off, then you can figure out a way to get all that paint off my my wall."

"Our wall," Aranel corrects, absentmindedly. Sylgja can tell that she is mentally running through a list of solutions. Despite the way she can behave, Aranel is clearly very smart, and when a problem arises it usually takes her only a short while to figure it out. This time, however, she comes up short. Shrugging, she turns back to Sylgja with a look of slight despair. Sylgja is having none of that today, however, and she thinks through the stuff she's seen Aranel do. Finally snapping her fingers, she points at Aranel, who looks slightly spooked at the sudden noise.

"Shout at it."

"What."

Sylgja smiles, having found an easy solution.

"Shout at it. You know, with that mysterious power that you keep bragging about all the time. I'm sure you've got some way to blow the paint off."

"And the wall with it," Aranel mumbles. Sylgja simply glares at her. More people are gathering, and whole the crowd as a whole looks somewhat amused, she doesn't want to think about what type of gossip will begin to circulate once the guard come over. That one young man… Aranel calls him Ran, she thinks. He is one she most certainly does not want near the house. He talks too much.

Aranel is still sizing up the wall, as Sylgja surfaces from her musings. But, as she watches, she draws herself up, and Shouts. It doesn't quite blow the wall of, and from the look on Aranel's face, she is quite surprised. However, the force does blow the paint everywhere. And by everywhere, this also means all over the civilians. The kids, who have poked their heads through the door, immediately stick them back inside as blobs of red and orange hit the door. Within seconds, the crowd is colored in all manners of multi hued paints. In fact, they look rather festive for a group who all seem to have an expression of utter shock on their faces. Aranel's face pales, and Sylgja feels like she's probably having the same reaction. Aranel takes off, shooting through the backyard and around the square. Within seconds, she's out of sight, leaving Sylgja staring at the stunned villagers.

Then someone laughs. And as soon as they do, the whole crowd begins to laugh. After a few minutes of near hysterical laughter, the crowd disperses, each chuckling to themselves. In minutes, the square is clear. Sylgja is stunned, but as soon as the crowd disperses she heads back inside. Aranel is going to have hell to pay when she gets home, but in the meantime, Sylgja is going to laugh as hard and as long as she can.