Some Spiced Wine?: An Unlikely Encounter with a Flying Nord

• Posted by Mackyish June 25, 2014 - 385 views

  --My first blog entry. Today I just started writing my character's parents' stories for the first time, and it just kept going and kept going until I forgot I was writing. It was an exhilarating experience. I've never had friends who played Skyrim or understood why I liked roleplay, so I'm excited to join this community of fellow skyrim-fans.--

   

  Some Spiced Wine?

  

  Drifa Rain-Talon

      Drifa, a Nord born to the prosperous Clan Rain-Talon, grew up in Solitude. Her father, Hraldr, assisted High King Torygg in political affairs, and her mother, Terika, stayed at home to raise her three children.

      Siblings Gissem, Makkur, and Drifa grew up in a luxurious lifestyle—venison and cyrodillic brandy staples of their diet. While her older brothers play-fought and harassed one another, Drifa daydreamed during her hours sewing on the terrace of their sun-kissed home. She was a naïve, trusting girl with no knowledge of outside strife. Her mother and nanny sheltered her to no end. As she aged, though, her aspirations expanded outside the stone walls of her home.

      Her insatiable curiosity bloomed, and she exhausted the family library a few short months after she mastered reading. Bemused, her father invited Drifa to peruse the High King’s archives during his work hours. Enamored with mathematics, poetry, and the ruminations on the forbidden arcane arts, she poured over books and scrolls with delight.

      As the years passed, Drifa proved her intelligence and dry wit to the court of Solitude, and she became known in many circles as the Little Raven for her intelligent eyes and dark hair. At her coming of age celebration, Drifa captured the hearts of many an eligible bachelor from across Tamriel. Her mother, eager to marry her daughter to the wealthiest, most powerful Nord in Skyrim, introduced Drifa to hundreds of party-goers. Her efforts resulted in little change in Drifa’s attitude towards men, though.

      While she dreamed of raising a family, Drifa despised most every man she met. So filthy, so stupid, she had yet to find any young man interesting enough to converse with. To her parents’ frustration, she rejected proposal after proposal, and refused to attend parties where she could meet a husband.

   “You’ll become a dusty old maid!” shouted Terika one evening. “You’ll have nothing but your books!”

      At 20, Drifa was the most eligible young noblewoman in Solitude. Older men whose wives had either died or divorced came to woo the Little Raven of Solitude, but to no avail. Until Rayd.

      During the Burning of King Olaf one summer, Drifa watched the effigy burn from her bedroom balcony. One moment she was alone drinking spiced wine, and the next she had fallen backwards, a heavy weight pinning her to the stonework. Gasping, she shoved the mass off and watched in terror as a huge Nord man stumbled backwards into the railing.

  “I’m sorry… ” he muttered hastily. “Told the boys I shouldn’t try it, but no they wanted those septims. Stupid… fall…”

  His words slurred like slick honey, and Drifa rose to her feet as gracefully as she could as she eyed the man cautiously.

  “How dare you trespass here.” She started shakily, raising herself to her full height. “This is my property. This is my balcony.” She raised her chin and glowered down at the drunk.

  “Actually--" the man raised a finger. "You don’t own this balcony.” he said with a sloppy grimace. He used the railing to hoist himself into a more gentlemanly position. “I assume your Rain-Talon relatives own all this. Besides I go where I please, my Little Madam.” He belched.

  “Excuse you! And I am no ‘Little Madam’ of yours, clear out of here at once or I’ll call for the guards!”

  “Do what you will I’m going to sit here ‘til my head stops hurting.” He rolled into one of the plush-armed seats and covered his face with a large hand. “Before you do scream like a little boar, though, do me the courtesy of getting me another drink.”

  Drifa raised an eyebrow.

  The drunk looked up in surprise as he heard the sound of spiced wine falling into a crystalline glass.

  “Well Shor’s Bones, hospitality isn’t dea—“  Drifa deposited the entire glass on his head.

  He spluttered, cursing under his breath.

  “Should have seen that coming.” He muttered wiping his face. He smacked his lips thoughtfully. “That’s a good year.”

  “Oh get out of here, you oaf!” Drifa yelled, and she dropped the half-emptied bottle down to the floor in anger. It shattered and glass pierced her foot. She yelped and fell backwards into the railing. The world spinned and she felt a throbbing in her arm.  She winced as a warm palm touched the shallow cut on her shoulder.

  “That wasn’t very smart.” the drunk muttered. Drifa looked up in shock and met the piercing gaze of two dark brown eyes set under a strong brow. The Nord held up his palm in which glowed a golden orb of light.

   “May I?”

  Drifa nodded, looking in wonder at the light.

  Instantly she felt a surge of relief as the magic rippled across her flesh.

  Fascinating… she thought as she gingerly tested her foot and arm.

  “My fault.” The man mumbled, sitting back. “Sorry for being such a drunk old fool. Call the guards they can take me back down…”

  “Wait!” Drifa said. She coughed in embarrassment. “You, um. That was magic?”

  The Nord nodded.

  “Perhaps… perhaps we can avoid involving the guards.” Drifa tugged at her skirt uncomfortably, still gazing at the man’s hand. “Provided that you sit with me a moment and explain how you just healed my cuts.”

  He blinked in surprise. “I s'pose that’s possible. However I have a price.”

  Drifa recoiled, her brow furrowing again. “What?” She snapped.

  “I need two things: another glass of that delicious spiced wine and your name.” He tilted his head a moment and added “Except don’t pour the wine on my face this time.”

  Drifa shook her head, smirking despite herself. She left a moment and returned with a towel for the man to dry himself.

  “I am Drifa of Clan Rain-Talon.” She said pouring drinks for the two of them. “And what can possibly be the name of a drunken Nord who came flying out of nowhere? I imagine you did something brash and idiotic? Racing rooftops? Trying to tame stallions while drunk?”

  “Flying spell.” He said as he took a swig.

  “What? You can’t be serious.”

  “Made a bet with some Khajiit acrobat down there that I could jump higher than him.” Explained the Nord. “Except he didn’t mention any parameters against magic so I tried it. I did it all wrong though. Should have bent my knees first.”

  Drifa stared at him, unsure if he was joking. She had never actually seen magic before, and she had only read a few of the dusty tomes the greedy court wizard allowed her to touch. Was it even possible to fly with magic?

  “Oh, yeah—“ The Nord sat up straighter and extended a hand. “The idiotic, drunken magic-using Nord who flew onto the Rain-Talon’s balcony and into Drifa Rain-Talon herself is, in fact, named Rayd the Great. However I have many other titles, can’t be bothered to list them all.” He said in a jolly tone, seemingly unaware of Drifa’s skepticism.

  Drifa shook his hand. She noticed how his hands were cleaner and smoother than any other man’s she had ever seen. There were no cuts, no callouses, and no gaudy jeweled rings adorning them.

  “So… Rayd the Great…”

  “My other favorites are Rayd the Wanderer, Rayd Viper-Tongue, and Rayd the Ostentatious.” He winked.

  Drifa felt her cheeks grow warm.

  “Rayd.” She continued. “You healed me with magic. How did you, a Nord, do this?”

  “Anyone can learn magic.” He said, inspecting his glass. “Elves and Bretons like to pretend it’s difficult, but it’s truly a simple skill to master.”

  Drifa scoffed. “If it is so simple, why can’t I just snap my fingers and will a flame to light that torch?” she gestured to the unlit torch hanging on the wall.

  Rayd snapped his fingers and a ball of fire shot from his hand to the torch, lighting it instantly.

  Drifa yelped in surprise.

  “The snap was for dramatic effect.” Rayd said, crossing his legs and leaning back into the plush chair. “You could do it if you tried.”

  “I have tried!” Drifa cried irritably. Then she closed her lips tightly, blushing.

  “Ohoho, so the famed Little Raven has tried to do magic behind her traditional Nord parents’ backs?”  Rayd laughed and leaned forward. “Do tell me more, it will make the most scandalous gossip tomorrow in the market.”

  “Don’t you dare tell anyone or I'll have you put in chains!” Drifa said. “Besides, I’ve only ever read about it… I never…” She struggled to find the right words.

  “You never managed to do anything with all that dusty book smarts?”

  She frowned. 

  "Look." He leaned forward and met her gaze. "You can only learn so much from reading. You need experience, a teacher too.”

  Drifa sat up straight and lifted her chin again. “And that is why you are here now. Tell me how you did it—how you healed me, how you lit the torch!”

  Rayd studied her determined face for a moment then relaxed back into the chair.

  “I’m far too drunk to do a good job explaining the complexities of the arcane.” He muttered, taking a sip of wine.

  “You just said it was simple!” protested Drifa, rising to her feet.

  “I lied.” Rayd chuckled.

  Drifa groaned. “Oh go back to the party, you drunken fool.”

  “Rayd the Drunken Fool, I like it. New title.” He smiled up at Drifa. “Look, if your curiosity honestly extends to magic, why don’t you just ask the court wizard here in Solitude for instruction? You certainly have the money and means.”

  Drifa shuffled her feet a moment, glaring at the ground.

  “My father and mother… they would never allow it.”

  “You’re an adult.” Rayd pointed out.

  “Yes, but I’m an adult with a title, a responsibility for maintaining my family’s honor and social standing.” She sighed and crossed her arms. “I don’t even know why I’m talking to you right now, you should really leave. Forget all this nonsense that has transpired between us.”

  Rayd rose. There was a brief pause between them.

  “I’m sorry again for disturbing you tonight.” He said sheepishly, scratching the back of his head. “And for likening you to a screeching boar. Your voice is high, but it’s not unpleasant.”

  Drifa turned and raised an eyebrow.

  “It’s like windchimes.”

  Rayd looked at her intensely, his eyes seeming to map out every detail of her face.

  “Thank you, I suppose.” Drifa said quietly. She gestured to her arm. “Thanks for that, even if it was all your fault in the first place.”

  Rayd nodded and grinned. “My pleasure. And my apologies once more.” Her bowed. “Best wishes to you, my Lady, do enjoy the rest of your evening.” He stepped onto the railing and began climbing down the wall.

  "Don't fall, you idiot!" She cried, chasing after him. 

  "Sheesh. I got up here didn't I? I can get back down!" he laughed.

  “I’ll be sure to watch out for more flying drunk nords!” She called after him. She heard him laugh and the muffled sound of his boots meeting the ground.

  She watched him walk away until his form disappeared into the crowd on the street.

  

   Rayd the Ostentatious