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Rochester Scifi/ Anime Convention by SoturoAyami
Rochester Scifi/ Anime Convention
Steampunk costume for the convention. Last day :) 

I wish I remembered who I bought that hat from because its fabulous. 

Its a working clock too! 
The leather fits like a gloves. It had taken a year's worth of extra work around Whiterun and out into Riverwood, even chopping wood and such. Now he was ready, now he could do this. He just had to walk out the door, then up the stairs and into Jorrvaskr. He could do that, he’d thought of such a day as this for a long time. In the early days it was all leading up to this. So why was he standing in front of Adrianne’s mirror feeling like the worst fool on the planet, ready to throw up on her nice clean carpet, or keel over right then and there.

At least the blacksmith was excited. She was humming as she adjusted some straps from somewhere around his waist so they were snug against his side.

“You look lovely!” She says cheerily, looking up at her handy work. Adrianne is a tall woman. They were both about the same height when they stood side by side. It was nice to look someone in the face especially since the majority of his friends were a head shorter. The nord population had taken care of that problem when he’d made the move but then he felt like a fly among mantids. He hadn’t known nords could surpass some orcs in size.

“Thats wonderful, but do I look---” He wasn’t sure how to ask if he looked ‘fierce’ enough without sounding too flamboyant about it.

Adrianne hip checked him lightly looking at the two of them in the mirror. The woman had been so happy for the occasion that she’d even cut his hair. It was still long enough to tie back but it was no longer the white bedraggled mess it had been when he’d been too busy to take care of it. He didn’t look half bad he would admit but it was hard to gauge after not looking at himself for so long. Adrianne clicked her tongue at him, hip checking him a second time only harder.

“You look fine. Its not as if you don’t know how to join and they are looking for new members. Now get out there tiger.” She smacked his hip and pushed him down the steps, past her husband and out the front door.

So here, he was staring at the doors of the longhouse. It was now or never.

His first steps in the door are met with a short brawl in the front hall. A dunmer and an angry looking nord woman were punching each other, shouting… Jakel didn’t really catch what they were shouting. Those in the front room instead of stopping the combatants either moved chairs out of the way or stood on the sidelines to watch.

Concerned, Jakel doesn’t stick around to watch. He knows where the leader can be found, he’d actually been in the mead hall before when he’d first moved in. Offered a chair for the day and food for some work helping their caregiver Tilma.

That had been a few days in all the six years he’d lived there. Every once in awhile he’d see some of them in the Bannered Mare but not often and he was fairly certain they’d forgotten him by now.

“But I still hear the call of the blood.” He hears from down the hall. It isn’t loud persay just his hearing at always been very good. Cocking his head he approached the Harbinger’s room at a sedate pace, hoping to hear more. No dice. They stopped talking before he’d reached the end of the hallway, looking directly at the open archway. Jakel took in a deep breath then stepped over the threshold to address Kodlak. The man’s eyes spark instantly with recognition.

“Jakel! We haven’t seen you around for sometime. Looking for work still?” The man holds out his hand, stands to greet him. Jakel is relieved to be remembered.

“Of a sort.” He says shaking the large man’s hand. “I was actually… hoping to join the Companions.”

Kodlak doesn’t even bother pretending to be surprised he just flat out laughs and pats the dunmer’s arm. “Were you now?” The elder human’s eyes sparkled with a mischief Jakel was sure wasn’t good for him.

“You can’t be serious…” Both man and mer turn to the dark haired man who’d been speaking with Kodlak. The glint in the elder nord’s eyes never ceased.

“You remember Vilkas, yes? Come, he will test your arm. Last I recall you didn’t have much strength left in you when you arrived in Whiterun but…” The man turned his bright eyes towards the dunmer’s black ones, “But there is a strength in you now I see ”

“Master you can’t honestly be thinking of letting him join?” Vilkas huffs, standing as well. Having the mer standing over him was slightly unnerving, especially since the damn thing didn’t blink.

Kodlak frowns at the lad, “I am nobody’s master Vilkas and yes. Off with you now.”

Jakel, despite the lads initial reaction, offered him his hand with a genuine smile. Vilkas looked at the hand as if it were a vicious snake then brushed past him without a glance back. He looks back at Kodlak with a raised eyebrow but the nord simply shakes his head and waves him on after the boy.

‘Could have been worse.’

In the courtyard Vilkas waits impatiently for the dunmer to arrive. Jakel isn’t certain if the boy was more annoyed by his presence or by the fact he’d made him wait. “Alright, now I want you to take a few swings at me with whatever weapon you have available. Don’t worry, you won’t hurt me.” The smile thrown his way is cocky.

He smiles carefully in return and draws the sword at his side. He’d made it years back and has been taking care to practice with it everyday.

“Come on.” The boy blusters and Jakel moves forward so quickly Vilkas is surprised when the sword cracks across his shield. he’d reacted on instinct to keep the blade from his face. Jakel feels pleased but when no praise is forthcoming he swings again this time adjusting his stance. There is enough force behind the swing to send Vilkas staggering back. The dunmer’s smile widens.

Off to the side there are a few of the Companions gathering. Aela, is sitting at a table enjoying one of the many pies littered about the premises. Hadn’t been paying attention until the first hit landed the sound so loud it actually startled her. Athis, barrel. Ria, two seat table.
Perturbed Vilkas pushes forward when the next attack comes and reacts with one of his own. From the left Jakel draws the dagger from his back to block the heavy charge.

Eorland is looking over the edge of his perch near the skyforge. The dunmer was going to lose his hand if he tried to do something stupid like block with a dagger. Only he moved and Vilkas’ blade is caught between the guard of the dagger and the guard of the steel sword. Jakel lifts, twists, turns and wrenches the blade from the stunned Vilkas’ grip.

Athis and Nadja are staring with similar looks of disbelief.  

Jakel’s smile widens just a hair before Vilkas can gather his wits to scowl. “Not bad.” He admits grudgingly, “But you’re still a whelp to us, new blood.” The nord bends to retrieve the fallen steel, “Here.” Unbuckling the clasp he toss his shield to Jakel who catches it with the hand he’d drawn the dagger with. “Take this to Eorland to have it fixed up.” Then haught as you please he strolled back in Jorrvaskr.

Jakel is left blinking at him in disbelief as well. “The heck…” Young people these days.

But he’d made it. He was in.

...He’d made it in.

Jakel’s smile grew impossibly wide as he near skipped up the steps to the skyforge.
He’d had enough coin to make it out of Windhelm. He’d set up in Whiterun when his coin ran dry and lived as a beggar and did odd jobs for coin and food, sometimes a warm bed.

Eventually he gained enough coin to afford Breezehome and a few months later enough to finish its furnishings. he ate very little and slept even less. All he wanted was the life he’d had before he’d left Morrowind. Before the ash covered everything so much nothing but that horrid ash root would grow, when the monsters grew closer. His life was simpler then. He’d been a modest merchant, held a small shop on the eastern coast near the Sea of Ghosts. It’d done well for him to live a fairly average modest life but now…

He got up early to help with the various farms around Whiterun for a pittance, made deliveries people were to lazy to make themselves, did petty jobs those in Whiterun who couldn’t afford to pay the Companions enough to take care of.

Most days it was okay. He avoided Nazeem like the plague. The man thought that simply because he was a simple peasant, that they were both foreigners in this strange land and that the redguard had done well for himself and his wife that Jakel was somehow lesser. He was tired of the placating smiles and the condescension.

One day he would join the companions. He wanted to do more. His simple life, the one he wanted was long gone. Skyrim, its nords, didn’t trust dark elves enough to do more than just get by. If you complained, they were doing you a favor. They didn’t have to let you stay in their cities, they didn’t have to let you live peacefully.

He’d gone to Irileth with his complaints after a guard had gotten too personal with him once. Another guard had simply laughed at him as he walked away with the complaint in hand. He’d been genuinely scared for his life then but the Jarl’s bodyguard had the man put away on some post in the Pale and Jakel had never seen him again. His life went on.

Severus was buying him drinks and dinner instead of paying him today. Jakel would have prefered the money so he would save it but he wasn’t going to turn down what the man obviously thoughts was a friends night out. He didn’t have the heart.

“You, my friend, are a workaholic.” Severus laughed downing his tankard of mead. Jakel offered him a smile,

“Says the farmer who works from dawn till dusk.”

“Yes, but that's what I do. I was raised to do it. it's more a habit now than anything else. Severus waved off the comment but Jakel knew the man liked his life style.

Instead of continuing down that path Jakel laughed, “Even so I like helping. Its nice to be useful.”

“Doesn’t hurt that it keeps you in shape to work regularly, does it?” The farmer gave him a look, “Still set on joining the Companions? I hear they’re taking new members soon.”

Jakel nodded, “Yes, I’ve been studying and I’ve set up makeshift training dummy in my study, oh! I finally was able to purchase a sword the other day as well. My armor is still being fitted but it’ll be---” Raucous laughter cut the dark elf off.

From across the room he could see two of those Companions now. Farkas, large nord he was, severe in face but soft in words (and soft in the head Torvar had said). He was kind enough that he hadn’t sneered when he’d met Jakel, it made the man instantly like him. And Torvar was hanging off of him singing some song they played while the bard simply looked on amused.

Severus jabbed him in the side. He flinches from the jab and the knowing look in the man’s eyes. “Doesn’t hurt they’re eye candy, does it?”

Jakel was positively violet, “I-i-i don’t know what you mean.” The farmer laughs.

“Of course you don’t. Just be careful, a lot of folks wanna make a name for themselves and join, don’t usually come back or if they do and aren’t completely mad are never the same. You take care you don’t end up on the crazy end and you better come back.”  Severus was serious. They’d become friends in the 6 years the dark elf had lived in Whiterun. He has no qualms whatsoever about the elven lineage or that he’d been slightly more wealthy and untrained in manual labor when it was needed.

Jakel nodded to his friend, “I’ll try to come back in as many pieces as I leave with. I only want to help.” Severus nods sipping at his mead. The laughter at the other end of the tavern doesn’t abat but when Jakel looks up next ice blue eyes are boring into his own black eyes.

He shudders.
Skjor looked at him with pinched acceptance. A bright red werewolf who could only be Aela was staring at him with narrowed black eyes to match his own. Jakel simply shook his head again.

“I-i-...Not to be rude but I’ve heard this transformation can be violent and I…” Jakel clasps shaking hands together, “I do not think I would survive it.” It wasn’t the only reason to be sure but he wasn’t going to tell them that he didn’t want the ‘gift’ they were offering. It was rude given all they’d gone through but Jakel had made up his mind that he would never give up with place in the void to join Hircine’s hunting grounds. It just wasn’t done.

There was a pregnant silence for some time. Skjor was looking too closely at him for the dunmer to feel comfortable but he wasn’t going to allow the man to simply coerce him. It would not be done. After minutes had passed Skjor sighs.

“Its up to you, my friend. Just know that if you ever change your mind…” He motions to the Underforge, its alter, the werewolf that is Aela then slaps a hand on the dunmer’s shoulder. The mer winces but nods all the same with a small calm smile.

He returns to Breezehome with his heart racing, his mind miles away. No, no, no. He couldn’t take the power they offered. It wasn’t a gift for him, Farkas had told him it was a gift for some but he and his brother and even Kodlak were questioning their places in the afterlife with this beast living inside them.

A storm swells on the horizon, great peals of thunder can be heard for miles. The rain comes in heavy, thudding gushes of water over his rooftop and he clutches at his pillow scared and alone and not feeling well. Shudders rack his body when thunder rumbles overhead; he can see the flashes of lightning cast horrific shadows over the walls.

They’d given him a choice and yet. The dunmer shook his head and buried his face in his pillow in a childish manner, one he’d never truly grown out of. He’d run straight into his home without a glance back when he’d made it off the steps outside the mead hall.

No, no, no.

Werewolves and werebears were actually prevalent on certain parts of Morrowind. Islands, mountains, hills. They were the boogeyman. When he’d learned about the Circle from Farkas he’d nearly run right then and there but the boy looked just as frightened as he, so he let the lad explain. He’d confronted Kodlak about it when they returned with the Wuthrend fragment, pushed for information. The old man had actually eased some of his fears but it hadn’t gotten rid of them.

He hadn’t seen a werewolf since he’d seen Farkas transform to fight off the Silverhand. He hadn’t thought about werewolves at all in the months he’d gotten to know the companions. Then he is confronted by two, in a hole in the ground, near an altar with them offering cursed blood so that he might truly be apart of them.

Thunder cracks and Jakel whimpers.

They had given him a choice he reminds himself. They weren’t going to force him to make one just offered their ‘gift’ to involve him. Under any other circumstance the gesture would have been sweet.

The clink and creak of the door opening downstairs sets his heart racing again. No, no, no. He curls more tightly around around the creased pillow. They wouldn’t force this on him, they wouldn’t. They were his friends, his comrades, he’d been given a choice and they would respect it. heavy foot steps would be hear beneath his floor, heading for the stairs.

Creak, creak, creak.

Thunder rumbles, Jakel trembles and curls even tighter into his mattress. The modest home provides little warmth when the wind howls. There are not enough furs to settle the chill that leeches into his bones at the prospect that they might ki--- ‘NO!’

“Jakel…” Farkas is standing outside his bedroom door. He can’t gather enough of his usual calm to answer the lad. Farkas knocks three times on the door. “Jakel...can I come in?” again Jakel is stuck trying to gather his mind. The dunmer tries to unclench his limbs but he gets about as far as releasing them and can move no more. His hands are still gripping the fabric, ankles crossed. He will not move himself.

Farkas swears “I’m coming in.” The door isn’t locked, just like his front door wasn’t locked because he panicked. Now he was letting them in -fuck- couldn’t they just let him wallow in his self pity!?

“Jakel…” Farkas’ voice breaks. Soft, worried, gentle Farkas. he wouldn’t, he couldn’t.

“I don’t wanna be a werewolf…” Jakel whimpers.

The wolf sighs, “I know. You--” Farkas is standing by his bed, sitting at the edge of the bed, dragging a comforting hand down his back over the worn shirt. Or it would have been comforting if Jakel wasn’t thinking all manner of things. horrid thoughts rushing through his head as he lays there, helpless. He isn’t really but what is he against a werewolf?

Farkas takes his hands back, placing them in his lap when he realizes he isn’t helping. The dunmer can’t see the kicked puppy look on the twin’s face but he can imagine it enough to turn his head. Farkas is staring at him with an almost imperceptible pout on his face.

“Skjor told me he’d given you a fright and that I should check on you.” He sighs, “I hadn’t thought--”

Jakel curled back in on himself at the next peal of thunder. Farkas made a sound he couldn’t understand but the hand was back, He could hear the sound of clanking metal, the hard thud of boots on his wood floors then a body wrapped around his. He shudders, curling in tighter but the body follows. Its supposed to be comforting at first it isn’t, then it is. Farkas is draped over his back, arm thrown over his side, spooning around his shivering form.

Wolves are pack animals. Jakel knew they saw him as family. Skjor’s offer, Aela’s offer, was like some roundabout way to help him join the fold. The twins had leached themselves to him, he and Kodlak traded stories, Aela reminded him of his daughter and she even came to him for advice when Kodlak wasn’t around in that quiet way she does so no one could perceive weakness. Skjor was brusk with him but it was his nature and his wolf barely noticed him. It was always the same.

Somehow Farkas had gotten an arm under him and Jakel was resting against his chest still partially curled into his protective ball. They didn’t go anywhere. Farkas stayed the whole night running gentle hands over his back and sides. By the morning Jakel was nestled comfortably against the other’s side, drifting between waking and sleep that only terror could do as it ebbed away from him. The wolf was asleep, having found himself comfortable enough in Jakel’s bed to leave himself completely unguarded.

During the night the rain had stopped, the sounds of the city outside was slowly waking to start the day. He couldn’t move for the arms around his shoulder and middle, not that he tried very hard.  It was comfortable. Not having slept with another person, or next to another person since his wife died.  

Hopeful this wouldn’t be the last time.


Destiny Arianna Burch
Artist | Hobbyist | Varied
United States
Just a girl wasting her time on the internet.


Clint Mansell makes me write things...

Journal Entry: Wed Oct 15, 2014, 5:14 PM
  • Mood: Optimism
  • Listening to: Death is the Road to Awe by Clint Mansell
  • Reading: this fic
  • Watching: The Screen
  • Playing: Skyrim
  • Eating: nothing ; -;
  • Drinking: nothing ; -;

Here is a thing…

I wrote while listening to this thing

because it would not leave my brain.

It's an AU to an AU I haven't written yet. xD But it wouldn't go away so I wrote it. And edited it. Go have a gander. 

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Add a Comment:
Lionntei Featured By Owner Jun 25, 2015
Thanks for the comments. BTW, the 3 mains all have their own story and disturbing problem that they try to deal with. Hopefully with the coming pics, you'll be able to determine what they are. :P I'm VERY subtle with hints and mystery.
SoturoAyami Featured By Owner Jun 25, 2015  Hobbyist General Artist
( o _o)> )) reveal to me your secrets~~~~~~~~
Lionntei Featured By Owner Jun 26, 2015
;_;   NOOOOOOOOOOO I cawnt..................................not yet at least
TirckyFarnsic Featured By Owner Oct 28, 2014  Hobbyist General Artist
SoturoAyami Featured By Owner Oct 28, 2014  Hobbyist General Artist
I see you o _o
TirckyFarnsic Featured By Owner Oct 31, 2014  Hobbyist General Artist
SoturoAyami Featured By Owner Nov 1, 2014  Hobbyist General Artist
(1 Reply)
AsiaOneMoon Featured By Owner Jun 5, 2014  Hobbyist General Artist
Thanks for the watch!
Erleuchtete Featured By Owner Jun 5, 2014  Student Digital Artist
thanks for the watch :3
GGearIzuna Featured By Owner Apr 23, 2014  Hobbyist General Artist
*dumps pillows all over* o ^ o
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