Post by Sands on Feb 16, 2014 5:20:56 GMT -5
Episode 6 - Windhelm: Part 1
White smoke spread across an infinite black void. It floated silently, growing into a fog that cut of and visibility. In the endless haze, a little girl lay, collapsed on her side. Her arm was outreached, resting on the ground. Its hand was open. Fingers uncurled and lifeless. In the palm, a small, yet bright flame. Burning vastly like a flag blowing in heavy wind. The light reflected off the girls eyes, as they stared deeply at it.
Something broke her focus...
A breeze of wind behind her. She rolled onto her back, and cast a gaze into the fog. A large, jet black feather swooped into the air around her. And slowly hovered to the ground next to her head. A white hand, twice the size of hers, cut out from the fog. Suddenly wrapping its long talons around her neck. They clutched her throat, before she could scream. The flame flashed, and disappeared into the wind. Darkness.
But she opened her eyes. To a calmly lit room. The pure white light shined through a window beside her bed. A flurry of snow blurred by outside.
The room was of Nordic culture. Finely carved wood and colorful blue wall bearings. A pair of torches sat cold beside wooden door, it too was well crafted. Besides the table next to her bed, the only other thing she noticed, was the warm fire. It cracked and flicked up into the chimney across the room. She felt safe.
Myra was comfortably sunk into her soft bed, buried in blankets. She had darkened eyes, visibly weak. Her hair was sprawled out among her pillows. She didn't try to move.
Her entire torso was sore. Especially in the back, where the Dragon had set upon her. It was clear to her that she was intensely cared for. Unknowing of how serious the damage was, it was safer for her to remain in bed. She shifted her head around the room, she was alone.
"Uuuh..." Her head was reeling. Her eyes rolled over to the table next to her. A small cup sat at her end. Parched, she painstakingly pulled her arm out of the blankets. There was a bandaged wrapped up over her shoulder, but she paid no mind to it. The only thing that mattered, was the drink. Her hand reached out for the cup, fingers extended. But in her clumsy state, they bumped against the cup, scooting it out of her reach. Her expression remained the same. But she dropped her arm in defeat.
She laid her head straight, staring at the ceiling. Huffing in irritation. Still thirsty, she refused to get out of bed. Cautious of her condition.
Myra wondered if she was in Windhelm now. Surely Daimous had taken her to safety. Probably in some Heroic dash from the Dragon's jaws. He probably carried her in hos arms through the blinding snow and all that...
Her imagination returned to the cup, and she turned her head, locking eyes with it. An urge grew in her mind to create a fireball and destroy the damn thing all together.
Then the door creaked and swung open. Entering a familiar face.
She looked at Daimous, expression still weakly tempered. Her eyes shifted back to the cup.
Daimous' eyes lit up. "Welcome back to the living." He smiled warmly.
Myra only grunted, her fingers wiggled at the cup.
Daimous raised a brow. "Oh!" He stepped over to the table and picked it up. "Here..." He sat beside her on the bed, and raised the cup to her lips. Letting her drink at a slow pace.
She emptied the cup and slunk her head back into the pillow. "You're my best friend right now.."
Daimous smirked, placing the cup back on the table.
He seemed completely at ease. His swords were missing, and most of his armor was off of him. It was strange to see him in normal clothes.
He turned back to her. "How are you feeling."
She looked at him blankly. Her voice was weak and raspy. "Like I've been attacked by a Dragon."
Daimous huffed. "I imagine so."
Another figure stepped through the open doorway. Another man, a tall Nord of middle age, stepped through in noble clothing. "Ah! Our guest is awake!"
"I told you she'd be alright." Daimous looked at him.
Myra half smiled.
The Nord was friendly to them both. "I'm glad to see the both of you survived."
"Daimous, is this Windhelm..?"
He nodded in return. "I killed the Dragon and carried you here in my arms."
She raised a brow cynically.
Daimous smirked. "It flew away after it hit us."
She moved her arm back under the blankets.
"But I managed to get you here in time."
"Aye, the court Mage says that you should be okay." The Nord nodded. He scratched his ridiculous mustache. "I am Jorlief."
Daimous stood up again beside him.
Jorlief continued. "You are under the protection of the Stormcloaks now."
"Did you deliver our message..?"
"I have.."
"And..?"
Daimous crossed his arms. "I don't understand how it all works.. but he's agreed to help."
Her eyes lit up lightly. As much as they could anyways. "He's going to send solders..?"
Jorlief answered her. "Ulfric sent a company to Whiterun. They arrived yesterday."
She looked at them both, shocked.
Daimous tilted his head briefly. "You've been out for almost a week."
"How does it look?"
They both looked at Jorlief. He replied "The Mage said you were covered by frost bite of some unnatural like." He turned and paced, hands behind his back. "All we could do was give you Healing potions and apply Healing hands... Luckily it seems to have been healed for the most part."
Myra looked at the ceiling. Somewhat relieved.
"It was hard to determine them frost bite from the tattoos down your back." He added.
Myra instantly looked at them. Unnerved, she tried to act out of suspicion. "I'm sorry for that.."
"Its fine my dear." He bowed.
"I was surprised that you even had tattoos. I didn't take you for that kind of person." Daimous added.
Myra shuddered. "It was.. a College thing."
Daimous seemed to believe her, along with Jorlief, who had some visible of his own. "Its common in Skyrim." The Nord shrugged to Daimous. "My wife has some as well."
She relaxed. Exhausted still, the only thing she needed to do was rest.
Jorlief looked at her, then back to Daimous. "I will inform the Mage of her awakening."
"Thank you Jorlief.." She jumped to change the subject.
"Thank you.." Daimous nodded.
He looked back to her, and politely bowed, stepping towards the door, he walked sternly down the hall. Disappearing from her sight.
Daimous watched him.
"Daimous.."
He snapped back to thought. "Yes?" He turned to her.
"Where'd the Dragon go?"
Daimous thought for a moment. "It flew up North. Towards Winterhold."
She looked at the window. "It was a.. Frost Dragon..?"
Daimous shrugged in return. "Your guess is as good as mine." He sat back down on the bed by her legs. "Ulfric sent out some Stormcloaks to look for its roost. But we haven't heard back yet."
"And how is Ulfric?"
He looked back to her, and smirked uneasily. "He's probably the scariest person I've ever met."
Myra chuckled, forcing herself not to laugh to hard. It was good to see Daimous well, she too, had second thoughts of bringing him here. "Did you boys get along..?" She asked.
Daimous nodded. "Actually... I think he likes me."