Oct 26, 2020 10:01 AM
Training Montage Time!
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Train, learn, grow strong.

Talos gave her something, when he Named her. Some innate understanding, of each of the words she had read from the book that afternoon. She goes over them in her head that evening, curled up in her bed with her bedcurtains closed, portable desk, parchment, and charcoal in hand.  

Ahkrin - Courage

Bel - Summon

Geh - Yes

Sos - Blood

Meyz - Become

Thu'um - Voice

Strun - Storm

Du'ul - Crown

Tuz - Blade

Gron - Bind

Vokun - Shadow

And, of course, 

Dovah - Dragon


Dov - Dragon 

Ah - Hunter


Kiin - Born


It's an eclectic list. 

The tongue of the dragons speaks to the world directly, allowing them to manipulate their surroundings through their voices. She could call fire simply by speaking the word - if she knew it. As it is, with the words she has... perhaps she could summon courage? Or even a blade, if that is possible. Perhaps she could bind one to herself, like a personal bound weapon? Summoning storms and becoming shadow, two other possibilities she can see, seem perhaps too dangerous, however. 

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It's possible that now isn't the time, either. It's late at night, and Shouting is loud. She's lucky Talos' shrine is so far into the grounds, or she would have been heard earlier. 

She'll go back to the shrine in the morning to practise. And... maybe try to fix the place up a bit. Every shrine is important. 

She settles down for sleep, and drifts off surprisingly quickly considering the events of the past few hours.


She stands before the Council, her armour freshly shined, her face perfectly serene. 

"You have preformed well, Justiciar Aldmeri," says one of the Councillors. 

"Yes, your results were... Impressive," another echoes. 

The others all murmur in agreement. Looking them over, Idhris notes the glint of pride in her mother's eyes. She stands taller under her gaze. 

"I am pleased to have met your expectations," she tells them. 

"Met, yes," states the first Councillor, "Perhaps even exceeded." He shares a long look with the Councillor to his right, before turning back to her. "Given your list of exemplary successes... We have a new mission for you." 

She salutes him, "By your order, Councillor." 

"Hmm... Yes, you will do well." He pauses, shuffling through the papers before him, "The situation in Skyrim requires closer watching than we had given it as yet. An Embassy has already been built, but we have yet to fully staff it. This is your new assignment." 

"Yes, Councillor." 

"Hm. We look forward to seeing your usual results. Dismissed, Overseer Aldmeri." 

With another crisp salute, she turns and strides out of the chamber, passing the results of her work on her way out. The severed head of Camoran Faendal of Valenwood stares after her. Under his gaze, she feels nothing but the satisfaction of a job well done, and a reward well received. 


She gasps awake. 

Still in the grip of the dream, she rolls towards the edge of the bed, intending to get up and find Faendal, to make sure the dream was just that. She is stymied by the way she is cucooned in blankets, and instead rolls down onto the ground, getting herself further tangled in the bedcurtains as she goes. 



At the sound of her struggles, the door opens, allowing Faendal to check on her. When he sees her struggle with the bedclothes, he sighs, and goes to help her.

"There, that's better," he says once she is free of them, "The dastardly bedclothes are defeated, my lady, with no casualities on our side." He tugs at one of the blankets scattered around the floor, revealing a rip in the material, "I'm afraid the enemy weren't so lucky, however." 


She stares up at him for a long moment, her eyes watering. Then, she lunges for him, her arms coming up to clasp behind his neck. She burrows into the uncomfortable metal of his chestplate with a shudder. It's worth it to know the dream was just a dream. 


Surprised, he falls back onto his heels, arms coming up to hold her around the waist. She hasn't been this affectionate in years, he knows. What could she have dreamed that would send her running into his arms? 

"Hush, sweet lady," he murmurs to her, rocking gently, "Were your dreams troubling? Cast them off in the light of day. I am here, and will allow none to harm you."


"Oh, Fae-" she cries, leaning into him as he strokes her back, comforting. 

Eventually, she pulls away, looking up at him.

"It was just a dream," she tells him, and herself. 


As expected. 

"What did you dream, little one?" He asks, bringing his hands up to settle lightly, comfortingly, on her upper arms. 


She looks down, avoiding his eyes. 

They were so accusing, in the dream. As though his spirit still rested within, condemning the killer he helped to raise. 

"...You were dead," she murmurs eventually. And, "it was my fault."


"I am here," he tells her, reaching up to her face. "You see," he adds, taking her hand from its place, wound in her hair, and pressing it against his own cheek. "I am well," he murmurs. 


Slowly, she calms, the feel of his warm skin under hand, flush with life, bringing her out of her panic. 

Once back to herself, she begins to flush with embarrassment at the loss of decorum. Flinging herself into his arms, really, what would Mother think? 

Not that she's sure she should care about what Mother thinks anymore. 

Still, she backs away from him quite quickly after that. 

"I-I apologise, Faendal. That was... undecorous of me." 


"Worry not, my lady," he tells her, amused, "If I could not handle a young maiden flinging herself at me, I would not be much of a guard captain, now would I?" 


She looks down, smiling, "I suppose not," she agrees. 


Oh good, a smile. 

"There now, that's better. It's best to start the day with a smile," hs counsels her. "Perhaps you should ready yourself in other ways, as well?" He suggests, "I understand your restoration tutor will be expecting you within the hour." 

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