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Literature
Is Not Love
For what is love, if but conditional? Can it still be called love if someone says "I love you if. . . ." Is it still love?
But I am most certain that I would still love you. Even if you shatter me once again, a thousand more times. I do believe I would still love you, even if love meant pain, even if love meant separation. I do believe I would love you even if love meant death. In fact, especially if it meant death. Is not love, but the dying of two hearts, which resurrect themselves into one?
Is not love me turning to you, and proclaiming: "I might be broken, but so are you. And in our brokenness, we come together, and we are whole"? Is it not out of love that I say these things?
Or what of you, your cold facade, your uneven temperament. Do you yet run from me, frightened? I can only hold out my hand to you, because I am frightened too. I am frightened of you, and I am frightened of the things I feel for you. I am frightened that you will hurt me again, but I cannot help but still rea
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Literature
Dance of Death (Pt. IV)
"You know, Little Wizard," Tarael began to speak once more, having sat us both down on the sofa. It was strange, he guided my motions as if I were on puppet strings, but somehow, I did not believe he was controlling me. No. I wanted to go where he lead me, but was that out of fear, or out of genuine desire? Unfortunately, I had no way of knowing, nor did I necessarily want to. "You've done a wretched thing to me, do you know this? You've stirred up the old feelings I used to have as a living man. The warmth in the heart that one has when they see something beautiful, the tenderness that fills the eyes. Of course, I have neither a heart, nor working eyes, so is it necessarily the same?" His gaze fell on me, and that expecting silence told me that I was supposed to answer. That was one thing I still could not find with him, when did he want to ask a rhetorical question, and when did he want me to answer him?
"Oh, I... I suppose it... it could be the same thing, if emotions are see
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Literature
Dance of Death (Pt. III)
Well, my skill in analysis wasn't without fail, at least. I now knew what Tarael was, which would make it easier to understand what he wanted. Liches sought power, and control, and it was no secret that they often wanted to use the control on everything around him. Part of me wondered if he had control over the inhabitants of the graveyard. He didn't strike me as a necromancer, but I couldn't take chances.
"You are very bright, little Wizard. Not many would have guessed to ask for my phylactery, let alone know what one is." He ended his words with a slight drop in pitch, clearly... angry about that little fact. "I am indeed a Lich, and judging by the widening in your eyes, and the way your pupils have contracted quite rapidly, you have never seen one of my sort before." He set his teacup down, and I did not dare to think where all the tea went. Instead, Tarael stood up, crossing over to behind the sofa and placing a hand over my shoulder. I shivered immediately, having no
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Literature
Dance of Death (Pt. II)
Please don't scream, what a simple request, and yet how hard I had to fight to heed it. My very bones shook with the need to scream, to let out my startle, my fear, my anguish. I didn't even know what stood behind me, but I knew that he was sentient, and aware of himself. After all, he knew how to speak, and knew enough that I would be scared. Don't scream. But what about the please? Did that make him a civilized man?
"D-Drychteri?" I finally spluttered, eyes horrifically wide, entire body shaking. His hand did not move, and he himself was painfully still. How was he able to do that? To stay so still in such cold conditions? Then I realized that his hand was nearly colder than the area itself, he didn't feel cold because he was the same temperature. Horrifying.
"Well, aren't you observant? Yes, I am Tarael Drychteri. Now stay still, I don't want you to be struggling the entire way down." Before I could object, a cloth was tied around my eyes, soon traveling
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Literature
Dance of Death (Pt. I)
Darkness surrounded me, and the cold air ripped through my robes. Even squinting, I could not see further than a few feet away from where I stood. This sort of night was the worst, when the moon would not even light the way, and the stars themselves seemed adamant to not shine their beautiful, twinkling lights. It was at this time that the gruff voice of Brunius, one of my traveling companions, echoed in my head. "I dun' like it when yer goin' out on yer own, 'Arra. It's dangerous ah nigh', an' even worse in those graves! What if ya run into a ghast or somethin'?"
"So be it then, Herr Brunius. I know how to deal with ghasts. Besides, I know it is there, I cannot ignore my duty to honour those who have passed before me."
What had I been thinking? I was no cleric, nor any sort of blessed being, and yet I found it my duty to commune with the dead in the dead of night! Sort of ironic, when you thought of it. However, I was here, I might as well not have turned back. I took out the b
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Oblivion OC- Verwirrter
Name: Verwirrter
Race: Altmer
Sex: Male
Birthsign: The Ritual
Specialization: Battle Magischer. "While I like some of Harra's concepts, I made it a little more friendly for people who don't have the strategy of running away from everything."
Faction: Mages Guild - Master-Wizard
Verwirrter is an Altmer Mage (as we could have guessed.) He is a Master-Wizard in the Mages Guild, and routinely uses his high status to order around Apprentices, and command various rooms for his research purposes.
He is rather old comparatively, and as an Altmer, has made hardly a dent in his long lifespan. Instead, he spends his days locked up in the library reading and researching-- when he is not out exploring. While he doesn't see the point in Alchemy, he often gathers ingredients for the other Mages.
He works very closely with Harra Schwarz on many occasions, which has lead others to mistakenly believe that they are more than colleagues. It has also been the reason others have mistakenly called him "Verwi
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