amulets and artifacts...

[myrmaad]

Morrowind Fan Fiction

Shareel liked days like this, a sky dark blue with softly brooding clouds, warm air breezily caressing her face like a moist kiss, and the rain still far to the south. If only she could stay out here, she hated the depths of the ruins, but knew mother would come tug her back into the damp musty safety beneath the walls. She imagined again her father, why hadn't he come for her, why hadn't he taken her to be schooled in the Dunmer ways of her ancestry. Shareel had ventured to speak sometimes with the friendly bandits and necromancers who worshipped in the safety of the ruins, who would sometimes bring her things like a comb for her hair, or fishysticks. They seemed fascinated by her strange appearance and the wings she inherited from her mother. Useless wings! She knew they were a disappointment to mother, ugly duckling Shareel, with wings too weak to fly. She thought again of her father, she had seen the ashlander camps with their charming warm tents, and the soothing chimes that played the song of the wind. Why couldn't he have taken her to live with them? Why didn't he love her?

 

Mother's only dream is for me to be like her. Shareel never bothered to try explain how she felt, her mother was too simple to understand anyway. The only life she was interested in, was the one she knew nesting in feral squalor in the dark safe depths. Shareel dreamed of so much more. Before he left father had taught her to read some of his strange beautiful books. He told the best stories, of gleaming cities, fortune hunters, the Chimer elves, and the Dwarven ones of long ago. He told stories of mighty battles and of the newcomers, the outlanders who brought with them the strange customs from abroad.

 

Skipping along the path near the shore, she made a game of hopping from rock to rock, her wings catching the breeze and softly dropping her to the next, further and higher she hopped and jumped, until a sudden sound startled her and she realized she was quite far from the safety of Ashalmawia, shrouded against the sky in the distance now! Starkly still she stood like a statue.

 

And then the crackle of a heavy step on the brush, and she turned and ran back, back to the safety of the daedra! Fast heavy steps pounded in her ears and she pushed her wings flat and out, flat and out in the rhythm of her skinny legs, using them to push her forward lest they assist her pursuer by catching the wind, slowing her down.

 

She could barely breathe, her heart pounded in her chest, her throat closed as hands closed around it! She opened her mouth to scream but nothing came out --

 

Her eyes flew open, and she started to laugh and cough with relief, why here she was, right here in the seeming safety of this friendly lost tavern.

 

She gave herself a few minutes to allow her heart to stop pounding. Her nerves were still on edge, her wings nervously jittering from her shoulderblades, still aching with the recent fear.

 

Shareel instinctively reached for Shard, her beloved dagger, her friend, she had neglected him since stopping here. He needed repairs, she got out her repair hammer and sharpening stone. She needed to prepare some poisons for him as well. She brushed her hair quickly and tucking Shard into the leather pouch she wore on her side, she left the room.

 

Just as she closed the door a cacophony arose from the great room below. These Nords, she thought, with a raised eyebrow, all they do is eat and drink. She stopped to get some refreshments, and as she did more travelers were introduced around the room. Family. She smiled, a little ruefully as she was made acquaintance of the newcomers. Cheerily the others continued their merriment, and she took her moment to steal away outside.

 

This was a bit north for abundance of Nightshade, but she hoped luck would be on her side. There were lots of morning glories, she'd start with them. And some blackberries over there. Fly Aminata Cap, lots. Milk thistle.. this was turning out to be a lucky day! Each time she'd get a handful of one thing, another was just ahead. Her purse was filling nicely, she smiled. As she continued to gather, she admired the beauty of each plant as she always did, silently offering a little prayer to the gods for each blessing of beauty and life gratefully harvested, remembering that plants were a blessing of safety from harm, and conspirators in the delivery of death to a foe.

 

She worried she had no mortar or pestle so she studied the landscape for suitable rocks. If all else failed she could grind them with her teeth and spit them out to cover her blade. Just then a stately purple caught her eye! Nightshade! Quickly she harvested all she could find, 7 plants!

 

At that moment there was a crackle of a footstep in the brush. Stiffening, and alert, Shareel readied her dagger, but saw nothing. A deer? No, a man, his arrow whistled past but another caught her thigh. The pain blazed through her and turned to white hot anger and she screamed her bloodcurdling rage (this too a gift from mother). A wing-swept leap and she was upon him, sinking Shard into his neck, and then into his heart, his life sighing out of him and filling her as she absorbed his health, their hearts becoming one beating, first his, louder, then softening as hers beat stronger. The gash in her leg was healing already. With a sickening yank, she ripped out the still sunken arrow and shoved it in his eye. She'd better get back.

[myrmaad]

My most recent poem, more like a song:

Foolin me

 

I know you're only around to pick the bones of the dead

I know the angst that has filled your head

I know you only come round to corpse check this time

Reassure yourselves they're no knights of the nine.

 

I've been warned, I've been scorned -- Foolin' me

I've been hated, been berated -- Foolin' me

Wherever I go, getting more bad news

you keep givin me the blues,

but you're no longer foolin' me.

 

I know you're sifting through the ashes for loose change

I know you're hoping to find the dog's got mange

I know you're thinking it's time to put him down

don't forget it all comes back around

 

I've been burned, I've been scorned -- Foolin' me

I've been baited, been berated -- Foolin' me

oh wherever I go, getting more bad news

you keep giving me the blues

but you're no longer foolin' me

[dezdimona]

Interesting.......to the say the least.

[RedVexHK]

very sweet poem... cats.. they let you lose yourself in their gaze... and all the worries seem to fade with their purring cuddle.