Snippet #2010174

located in Skyrim, a part of Skyrim: The Mentor & The Sellswords, one of the many universes on RPG.




Characters Present

Character Portrait: Adrienne Jastal Character Portrait: Aria Windfoot Character Portrait: Sinderion Direnni Character Portrait: S'Baad
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Sinderion Direnni
The Reach, Outside Markarth

Sinderion never slept well on nights with a full moon.

His particular strain of lycanthropy wasn’t dependent on the lunar cycle, but there was no denying that the temptation was hardest to resist when the silvery orb in the night sky was at its brightest. It called to the beast in his blood like it called the tides, pulling those urges and primal thought processes from where they had receded in the back of his mind to the very forefront, making the fight against them something conscious, immediate unlike it was on any other day in a month.

Sometimes, when it was particularly bad, he and the Mentor would spend the space from dusk to dawn in the library, talking in hushed voices about forests and lives and things usually left in the dark, or else books and projects and the challenges of mercenary work. Tonight, however, he would be coping on his own, and upon reaching his quarters, Sinderion loosed a rare sigh. His room almost remembered a monk’s cell, bare of anything save a bookshelf, a rug, and a mat upon which to sleep.

Since that was unlikely, Sinderion chose instead to prepare his belongings for the next day and then settled in the center of the rug, folding his lengthy legs beneath him and settling his forearms on his knees, back perfectly straight. Regulating his breathing, he allowed his surface-level thoughts to ebb away ad he’d been taught long ago, and with it, the song in his beast-blood died to a gentle hum, a bit louder than usual but still bearable. This entire situation was undesirable, but it would be managed.

He pondered his friend S’Baad’s words for a moment. Indeed, the likelihood of a trap was high, and yet… what other choice did they have. If they were to spring its jaws, at least they would be doing so intentionally and not completely unawares. After a while, these thoughts, too left him, and Sinderion was alone in his mind at last. It was a strange dual feeling, as though he were both profoundly empty and completely fulfilled at the same time. The first time he’d described that to the Mentor, as a mere boy of seventeen, the man had smiled at him, and he recalled it clearly even now because it had been the first time in years that he’d ever felt as though he'd done something right.

His breath hitched, but he smoothed it over and began anew. Such was the process; new thoughts would always try to intrude, as the mind was active by nature.

When dawn threaded the first tendrils of sunlight through his window, Sinderion opened his eyes and stood smoothly, taking up his things without another word. Downstairs, Adrienne had made everyone something to eat, and he partook generously. Restful meditation may be, but it was no substitute for actual sleep, and he needed to prevent his energy from flagging.

As it turned out, he need not have bothered. Their ride was uneventful, and he spent a good portion of it at the back of the formation, slumped forward on his horse and sleeping. His heightened senses would wake him if anything approached from the rear, and the others would do so if they were attacked from the front of flanks. If it was possible to look dignified sleeping in such a fashion, Sinderion did, but it was also a little silly. Not that he minded much; he had never been overly concerned with how he appeared to others. Trying to keep them safe from you tended to have that effect.

He woke a few hours from Markarth and blinked slowly, taking in his surroundings. Drayk was talking up ahead, and Sinderion could just make out the words due to acute hearing, but the words were obviously not meant for him, so he did not pay them much mind. Catching Aria’s eye, one corner of his mouth quirked up briefly, which was about as close to a reassuring smile as someone like Sinderion could manage.

To S’Baad, he said “Unusual, that we encountered no bandits.” None of the holds had a guard force large enough to make regular raids on the countryside, but maybe one of the armies had camped nearby and broken up the local resistance. “No Forsworn, either.” His brows furrowed, but they were approaching Markarth now, and Adrienne was speaking. He tuned into the sound of her voice easily, and nodded when she suggested that she talk to the guards. It couldn’t hurt to forewarn them that the Sellswords were entering the area. Of course, there was also a degree of danger to her alone if they did not much fancy the notion, but she knew how to look after herself.