howliiings

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night
, it seemed, was when he thrived. dreams of things to come & terrible memories would always haunt the man’s sleep … it seemed as though he was incapable of resting a full night. he had wandered from his camp, letting his thoughts settle. something was itching at him, in the pit of his stomach. he had concluded that taking some time alone would be the best cure to his unease.  he had taken a job that would better fit one of the newer whelps among their ranks.

he had found himself drawn to a small clearing in the woods, standing, drinking in the moonlight & delving deeper into his thoughts … but not too deep, for fear of unlocking something darker. there was something calming about it — something good. perhaps he ought to be more careful … in a time of war, it was not unheard of to find an arrow in one’s throat for the crime of existence. it was an ugly thought, but one that could not be forgotten


thoughts are cut into by the silence of
night being sliced into by the familiar sound of another moving with the protection of armor  – he wasn’t sure if the sound was worth alarm, but it doesn’t stop him from drawing his sword. he considers calling out, demanding the source show it’s self… but he decides against it. it would be foolish. instead, he moves towards the sound under the cover of night, moving carefully in hopes of him not falling victim to the same sound. 

@oftarth liked for a starter !!!

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         brienne had always been a CAREFUL woman, and in skyrim              and especially once the war had returned tenfold and scarred relations between towns and cities ( and even provinces, to an extent; she had once received word from her FATHER, all the way back in morrowind, of these affairs ). but none of it came under scrutiny at night, when she thought no one would be out and about. no humans, perhaps, would be out beneath the LIGHT of the bright moon, and if they were, she would see them there and have enough time to prepare either defense or a soft greeting before carrying on. there was no rest for a woman here; furthermore, no REST for a woman others regarded more often than not as man.

                           it was with partial care now that she moved in the night. her DARK armour was cover in the SHADOWS, at least, but she herself had never been fond of taking to those; darkness seemed to cling and dig into any crevice it could find. she would not allow herself to be so TAINTED. so she used the moonlight, boots crunching on the uneven gravel of the nearby stream. for a moment, she considered passing it by. chose against it and paused, unhooking her water FLASK from her side. it was getting low anyhow, and she needed to have it refilled. carefully, she crouched beside the gentle water and dipped it in…

                   and froze when she felt the hairs at the back of her neck stand on end, as though there were something here WATCHING her. a TURN of her head; she glanced over her shoulder, adjusting her weight on the opposite thigh.                   ❛ is someone there?