The Gold Road Chapter – which includes the Scribing system – and Update 42 is now available to test on the PTS! You can read the latest patch notes here: https://forums.elderscrollsonline.com/en/discussion/656454/
Maintenance for the week of April 22:
• [IN PROGRESS] Xbox: NA and EU megaservers for patch maintenance – April 24, 6:00AM EDT (10:00 UTC) - 12:00PM EDT (16:00 UTC)
• [IN PROGRESS] PlayStation®: NA and EU megaservers for patch maintenance – April 24, 6:00AM EDT (10:00 UTC) - 12:00PM EDT (16:00 UTC)
• [IN PROGRESS] Xbox: NA and EU megaservers for patch maintenance – April 24, 6:00AM EDT (10:00 UTC) - 12:00PM EDT (16:00 UTC)
• [IN PROGRESS] PlayStation®: NA and EU megaservers for patch maintenance – April 24, 6:00AM EDT (10:00 UTC) - 12:00PM EDT (16:00 UTC)
[RP] Indoril Armor
Najakas
✭
He was there, with his thumb on her chin and his heart swimming in her eyes. They were close and comfortable on the deep red cushions that lined the little apartment in St. Olms. He’d tell her something sweet and she’d laugh, and run her fingertips along his chest, her little feet brushing against his leg. Every move was practiced, perfect.
He’d run his hand through her dark hair, brushing strands away from her neck. A little silver chain with a deep red gem at the end. For her husband, of course. He had one too. Wore it under his armor while he did patrols. The stranger slid it over her shoulder to hang down her back. He didn’t want to see it when they were together. She could put it back when her husband came home later. Much later. His patrols always ran late.
Leaned against a wooden door, plumed helmet in his hands. Nels pressed his ear against the wood. The apartment cost him most of his pay for the month only because it was in the upper waistworks of the canton. The walls and doors were all thin, drafty, filled with secrets that spilled out between cracks if one just stopped and listened.
“My husband recognizes you now.” Her voice was smooth and dark like Heartfire. “You were talking about a mystery woman at the pub, hm. With long legs and curly hair.” His reply was muffled. Kisses on bare skin. A peek through the keyhole revealed bare thighs and a light robe up around her waist.
She slid onto his lap. “I’m not going to be a problem for you, am I?” Nels narrowed his eyes. The stranger smiled up at her. Yes, the pub. Short hair, russet red. High cheekbones, strong jaw. He was a fishmonger from the coast. He drank too much and played cards until last call. Smelled like smoke. Too much skooma.
She nestled herself against him, breasts pushed against his chest, his hands on her thighs, moving, wandering. She drew a sharp breath.
“You’re a very beautiful problem.”
He could taste the rage in his throat. It stung and choked like fire and bile. His bonemold fingers digging through the cloth covering his palms. The little red gem around his neck burned against his skin and he trembled, repeating the words to himself. A beautiful problem, yes. He grabbed hold of the door handle, one hand on the hilt of his short sword.
Dark curls down her back, her eyes closed. Lips on her skin. Those should be his hands, his lips, his sword. She was graceful still, with her robes unfastened around her, bare ashen skin in the candlelight. The way she moved like the waves, her sweet breath, sweet voice, wrapped around lowborn hips with dirt beneath his fingernails and sujamma on his breath.
The stranger wanted a problem? Nels drew his sword, plumed helmet all but forgotten on the floor. Problems he could provide.
Edited by Najakas on April 28, 2014 7:37AM He’d run his hand through her dark hair, brushing strands away from her neck. A little silver chain with a deep red gem at the end. For her husband, of course. He had one too. Wore it under his armor while he did patrols. The stranger slid it over her shoulder to hang down her back. He didn’t want to see it when they were together. She could put it back when her husband came home later. Much later. His patrols always ran late.
Leaned against a wooden door, plumed helmet in his hands. Nels pressed his ear against the wood. The apartment cost him most of his pay for the month only because it was in the upper waistworks of the canton. The walls and doors were all thin, drafty, filled with secrets that spilled out between cracks if one just stopped and listened.
“My husband recognizes you now.” Her voice was smooth and dark like Heartfire. “You were talking about a mystery woman at the pub, hm. With long legs and curly hair.” His reply was muffled. Kisses on bare skin. A peek through the keyhole revealed bare thighs and a light robe up around her waist.
She slid onto his lap. “I’m not going to be a problem for you, am I?” Nels narrowed his eyes. The stranger smiled up at her. Yes, the pub. Short hair, russet red. High cheekbones, strong jaw. He was a fishmonger from the coast. He drank too much and played cards until last call. Smelled like smoke. Too much skooma.
She nestled herself against him, breasts pushed against his chest, his hands on her thighs, moving, wandering. She drew a sharp breath.
“You’re a very beautiful problem.”
He could taste the rage in his throat. It stung and choked like fire and bile. His bonemold fingers digging through the cloth covering his palms. The little red gem around his neck burned against his skin and he trembled, repeating the words to himself. A beautiful problem, yes. He grabbed hold of the door handle, one hand on the hilt of his short sword.
Dark curls down her back, her eyes closed. Lips on her skin. Those should be his hands, his lips, his sword. She was graceful still, with her robes unfastened around her, bare ashen skin in the candlelight. The way she moved like the waves, her sweet breath, sweet voice, wrapped around lowborn hips with dirt beneath his fingernails and sujamma on his breath.
The stranger wanted a problem? Nels drew his sword, plumed helmet all but forgotten on the floor. Problems he could provide.
Come RP with me!
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