failde .
aide to elenwen %7C thalmor %7C imperial %7C taiya's
Posts: 7
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Post by failde . on Dec 18, 2012 17:36:47 GMT -8
| [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 400px; background-color: #171818; padding:20px; border-top: 10px #171818 solid; border-bottom: 10px #171818 solid;] Like somehow you just don’t belong and no one understands you {WORDS } 1021 {TAGGED } Elenwen {WEARING} Thalmor robe!
“A package has arrived for you.”
The voice was as sweet as the divines above. Failde could hear the quiver of emotion in his own voice when he demanded that the package be given to him. FINALLY! Finally he could have some comfort in this wretched wasteland. Finally he could have something that actually made sense in this life that he lived, not turned upside down. Without thanking the man standing there, Failde immediately turned and walked away, his hands delicately opening the package. When he saw the beloved text, Failde stopped in the hallway, staring down at the wonderful publication in his hands with the expression of a lover long separated from their beloved. “Oh yes…”, he whispered out while he stroked the cover with a soft caress. He couldn’t wait to settle down and read this wonderful writing!
Quickening his stride, Failde retreated to a corner by a fireplace and selected a seat there. When he finally settled down onto it, he expelled a relieved sigh. An entire day without Elenwen’s summoning! Oooh how good of a day this had been so far! Not only had he gotten to sleep in without having her standing there slapping him on the back of the head, but he’d gotten out of any archery lessons forced upon him, and now his beloved book – his favorite actually – had arrived from his house in Solitude. Why had it taken so long for his parents to send him this anyway?! He could have spent less time going there himself. The problem with that was that he would either have to ride an infernal horse – with all the germs that it probably carried, or he would have to trudge through all the snow to get there on foot. Either way was a terrible option really, so he had opted to simply mail his request for his favored book.
Failde closed his eyes in bliss while he cracked open the book. It even smelled delicious. Leaning forward, he had just inhaled its familiar scent when the voice caused his paradisiac feeling to crumble around him. “Stop smelling the book like it’s some lady and look alive Fail. Elenwen’s summoned you. Today is day one of training.” With a displeased look on his face, Failde gently closed his book and set it aside on the table beside him. “She waits all day until the one moment that I can actually find some peaceful bliss to summon me like the son of a common wench!” Along with his outrage came a fist that slammed down onto the table beside him. Unfortunately it didn’t quite make the impression he wanted, since it had hurt his hand to do that. “Nugh.”, he groaned before retracting his hand near his body and rubbing it gently. “Hurt yourself there little guy?” With a lip curled back, Failde rose suddenly to his feet, pleased to see that he was taller than the Bosmer that always tormented him. “For one that has a physical stance quite slight for one of your breeding – as common as it is, I’m surprised you actually reason out in your mind that you have the authority to say anything about any – any being spoken in an extremely loose term – elf that is obviously sculpted by the divines.” When the Bosmer stood there blinking at him, Failde rolled his eyes back and picked up his book from off the table. “Excuse me, I have too valuable time to waste it on a fatuous imbecile.”
With that, Failde lifted his chin proudly and strutted past the bosmer that was so bent on trying to annoy him every moment of the day. With his book still safely tucked under his arm, Failde strode through the building. Unfortunately, he had forgotten to ask where it was that Elenwen had summoned him, but by asking around, he realized where she was. And didn’t like the sound of it. The dungeons had always slightly terrified him. Not because he was scared of the physical appearance…but the germs. It reeked of a putrid smell. One that was probably a combination of rotting human flesh and fungus. Just thinking about it sent a shiver down his spine and caused him to brush his hand nervously on his robe.
After walking down the steps and right outside of the torcher chamber, Failde eyed the door that led into it. Barricading the flesh of his hand with that same robe, Failde opened the door and slid inside, careful not to allow the door to touch him in any way. Divines help him through whatever ‘training’ Elenwen had in store for him. Was archery and blade lessons not enough?! He already hated using that sort of weaponry! “Elenwen?”, he called out while he brushed his robe off with his sleeve.“You called?” Now if she would only tell him where she was and what exactly this training was. That would be so lovely. Hopefully he could be done with this and out of here within the hour. That way he could bathe thoroughly and once more return to the book that he adored so much. But for now, he was going to have to endure whatever it was that she wanted to teach him.
No doubt it would be as barbaric as she was.
{NOTES} I'm going to have too much fun writing this guy |
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ELENWEN .
first emissary %7C thalmor %7C imperial %7C kent's
Posts: 7
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Post by ELENWEN . on Dec 20, 2012 6:02:05 GMT -8
is it bliss or misery if what you see is what you believe?  thank the loss of innocence TAG: Failde! Words: 732
ONE LAST THING: Ahhh she's not going to get frustrated with him at all.
Elenwen could not decide whether this boy was an Altmer or a snail.
Having long since decided that pacing tactlessly before the Stormcloak prisoners would appear undignified, Elenwen had taken a position before the door to the dungeon and kept her eyes trained on it, only paying the Stormcloaks a small touch of attention when he protested audibly against his bonds and she would make some curious, pained croaking noise – suitable for one of her ilk - that was probably a result of the angle of the torture bench in relation to her apparently broken ankle. They would both do well to hope that they remained quiet enough that Elenwen could overlook them for another twenty hours if this aide did not arrive, as she found herself far more concerned with the thusfar-proven ineptitude of the younger Altmer than with the plight and subsequent resistance of the two prisoners to their hapless circumstances. The aide, a mere boy whose educational credentials could have been said to rival Elenwen’s own if one wished to overstate the praise, had not thus far proven as apt as those credentials had indicated. His tenure under Elenwen’s tutelage could be defined only by a great deal of disappointment.
Patience was a trait on which Elenwen prided herself, however, and the patience necessitated in handling this aide would surely test her. She had been tolerant enough of his constant antics to consider giving him the majority of the day off until she would call him for business that he needed to attend to. That business involved these Stormcloaks. Elenwen had surmised that many of the boy’s inadequacies could be founded in his inexperience with the harsher realities of life, especially a life lived in wartime. Elenwen could have easily tasked a justiciar with the interrogation of these two Stormcloak captives or taken it upon herself to extract needed information. She had ultimately decided that the boy needed to experience the feel of the torture tools in his hand and of the power that could be held over another being – a power reserved for the Altmer. And the boy would keep her waiting. Elenwen regarded the door coldly, as if demanding that it produce the subject of her summoning or risk being rattled from its hinges.
As if capable of fear in spite of its inanimate nature, the door slowly creaked open, giving way to the boy. Her icy glare turned from the unattractive, metallic portal and to the mildly unimpressive features of her aide, the narrow of her eyes deepening once he spouted out her name, unaware of his surroundings. How the boy had not died in his short twenty years of life would be a consistent mystery to the First Emissary. To show him his error, Elenwen stepped forward, taking a couple of light steps behind his shoulder and out of his sight. The female groaned again. ”On the one day I free my aide from the majority of his duties, he cannot answer a single summons in a reasonable amount of time.” Though Elenwen would have very much liked to wring him around and force his gaze on her to clearly relay her displeasure, she refrained. Having him whining even before she handed over the torturer’s tools would wear on her. ”My expectations continue to lower,” she said, to add a bite to her words, before stepping forward and indicating that the aide should follow if he knew what was good for his career.
She stopped between the two Stormcloaks, the male regarding them both angrily while the female looked to be so uncomfortable that she could no longer bother with her barbaric hate of her betters. Elenwen let her aide regard them both, assuming he would understand what she was asking that he do without having to explain it to him. Regardless, the explanation came from her lips. ”You did not take to the bow, but you will take to this duty. The strength of our position in this overgrown bog relies on our superior knowledge – where all other parties falter, the Aldmeri Dominion strengthens its grip. The Nords before you may only be uneducated traitors, but every mouth has a tale to tell.”
Elenwen paused, looking between the two, before her eyes returned to the boy. ”You will interrogate them,” she said, simply, expecting there to be no argument as her gaze hardened again.
for things are starting to make sense |
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failde .
aide to elenwen %7C thalmor %7C imperial %7C taiya's
Posts: 7
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Post by failde . on Dec 21, 2012 22:49:49 GMT -8
| [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 400px; background-color: #171818; padding:20px; border-top: 10px #171818 solid; border-bottom: 10px #171818 solid;] Like somehow you just don’t belong and no one understands you {WORDS } 943 {TAGGED } Elenwen {WEARING} Thalmor robes
As soon as he looked down, Failde felt like gasping in horror. There, on his garment, was…dust. Letting loose a horrified groan from his lips, Failde slumped against the creaking door that had allowed him access to this wretched place and stared down at the patch of grime on his garments in horror. Great. Not only was he going to take a bath when he got done with whatever in heavens name Elenwen wanted him to do, but he was also going to have to send this to the maid to have it cleaned. All because Elenwen didn’t want to get her own hands dirty. Of all the nerv-…oh no! With a bit of an inward gasp, Failde jumped back from where he had slumped against the door and looked to his right side. He’d forgotten that the door was probably infected with slime and gross diseases. More dust! A tiny strangled sound had just popped from his lips when he heard her voice.
Failde lifted his face – features extremely taunt with annoyance – to view that of Elenwen looming before him. When he had first arrived here at the embassy, Failde had been fairly certain that Elenwen had also been sculpted by the divines. After all, in appearance – especially for one of her age – she was still breath taking. For those first moments that he had joined, Failde had thought that perhaps being a Thalmor wouldn’t be as bad as he had originally dreamed. But long since had any appeal physically worn off with not only her attitude, but her crazy barbaric ideas of what he had to do on a daily basis in order to become ‘worthy’ of any higher position in the Embassy. As far as Failde was concerned, he wanted to get away from this place as quickly as he could, not climb the ranks. Though he had to admit that getting away from Elenwen and all her demands – both physical and emotional – would be a delight to one such as him.
Her words simply caused his nose to wrinkle in even more annoyance at her words. “I came with urgent haste Elenwen, to fulfill your unknown tasks that you so delight causing me despair with. Blame your messenger, the dull, half-witted bosmer for taking so long in finding me before you turn your accusing gaze upon one that is so free from any sort of blame.” Despite wanting to tell her where she could go with her expectations, Failde refrained himself by telling himself he was too refined to even speak such to a woman – though perhaps arguably not a lady. “I am deeply sorry Elenwen…” Letting that remain there, Failde once more brushed at his side and lifted a brow. “For your displeasure which was wrongly accused.”
Despite not especially liking her summoning him like some sort of mere dog, Failde did pick up his feet and follow her while she walked deeper into the torturing chamber that they now found themselves in. The young Altmer found himself carefully picking his way while following her so as to not get his boots any dirtier than they were from already even making contact with such a disgusting surface. After all, he needed a bath, and his clothes needed a good washing. Failde didn’t want to have his boots need to be cleaned as well.
Despite feeling disgusted on seeing the prisoners, Failde didn’t like the biting remark on his skills with a bow and arrow. “My skill was far from lacking. I didn’t, however, see any need to use such a barbaric weapon.”, he mentioned offhand while he studied the two pitiful creatures that found themselves in this place, surrounded by filth. Failde was surprised when she mentioned that he would be interrogating them. Glancing up quickly, he rose an eyebrow while he looked at her, figuring that he hadn’t heard right. “Excuse me?” Failde really hoped that he had heard wrong and that he didn’t have to get anywhere near these nords that were forced to be in such a wretched place. He’d rather go back for another round of wits with that bosmer imbecile than get anywhere near these two. For all he knew, they also carried diseases from their time in this horrible place.
{NOTES} Oh my gosh, I just love him so much XD |
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ELENWEN .
first emissary %7C thalmor %7C imperial %7C kent's
Posts: 7
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Post by ELENWEN . on Dec 30, 2012 4:55:34 GMT -8
is it bliss or misery if what you see is what you believe? thank the loss of innocence TAG: Failde! Words: 744
ONE LAST THING: Such kindness.
Elenwen could already perceive that the boy was going to pile his typical array of excuses onto her before he even said anything. It was in his nature to come up with all manner of inane vindications whenever he was approached with a complaint against his work methods, or lack of them. Elenwen’s eyes dulled noticeably as he blamed one of the Bosmer for his lateness, and while Elenwen could not say whether the excuse was the truth or not, his propensity for finger-pointing never ceased to cause her immense annoyance. If she ever had the chance to speak to the instructor who had taught him to react to criticism in this way, she was sure she would string him or her up by the robes. ”So you rely on your lesser – a Bosmer, your subordinate – and assign the lesser your blame. I would be more ashamed for others to know that my successes and failures as an Altmer and a Thalmor rely on someone other than myself. Will this Bosmer hold your hand your entire life? If that is the case, I should promote him above you.” Though Elenwen worded it as a mere mocking threat, she did base her promotions within the embassy on a differentiation between leaders and followers. If her aide could not prove more in tune with his responsibilities than he had thus far, he was going to find himself falling far behind the others, even the Bosmer – admittedly rather useless himself on most days – before long.
Elenwen had learned to avoid getting her hopes up about a large portion of the Thalmor sent her way to work the Skyrim embassy long before the boy now following her to the two Stormcloaks, but not even the slightest glimmer of promise existed when it came to the boy and his tangible abilities beyond holding a book before his face. That lack made today’s task for him more a concern of…weaning him off of his milk, to put his functional condition metaphorically, than of actually seeing these Stormcloaks spout out all of Jarl Ulfric’s secrets. Elenwen doubted either of them knew anything beyond the basics – the next location that their detachment wished to attack, and so on. Still the boy harped on her insistence that, if he be present in this embassy, constantly under threat of outside attack, he learn the use of the bow, a most elegant of weapons. Elenwen did not even turn to grace him with her features as she responded to his quip. ”The bow is no barbaric weapon in the hands of the civilized.”
It was in this realm of thought that her aide failed to understand the worth of martial prowess and of duties such as the one he was to be presented with today. Altmer excelled in all aspects of life because they refined all aspects of life, even ones as typically crass as the work of torturers. Elenwen had turned torture into a process of practiced beauty and thus had been tasked with the interrogation of possibly the most key of prisoners. Her aide needed to learn that it was not simply the arts already considered of high culture and aesthetic appeal that Altmer mastered. It was the arts that required the touch of their people to reach those lofty heights.
He would, naturally, question her. It was in his nature to question even which arm to slide into his robes every morning. ”I do not believe I stuttered,” she calmly retorted, ”You will interrogate these two ragged ‘children of Skyrim.’ Both have been prepped and cleaned, a task typically left for the interrogator. Your only duty is to extract the information from both of them.” As she finished speaking, Elenwen took a few graceful steps to the right of the female and plucked up the set of torture tools displayed along the top of the table. She moved them to where her aide was standing, laying them out carefully before him. ”I will be watching, and despite my better judgment, I will answer your questions or assist. The work should be simple. The female already has an injury that you may play upon.” She gestured her hand at the swollen foot. ”She will sing like a bird. The male will be more resistant.”
Retreating a few steps towards the rear of the room and standing poised there with her hands rested on her hips, Elenwen had but one instruction to add. ”Begin.”
for things are starting to make sense |
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failde .
aide to elenwen %7C thalmor %7C imperial %7C taiya's
Posts: 7
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Post by failde . on Jan 9, 2013 19:25:10 GMT -8
| [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 400px; background-color: #171818; padding:20px; border-top: 10px #171818 solid; border-bottom: 10px #171818 solid;] Like somehow you just don’t belong and no one understands you {WORDS } 804 {TAGGED } Elenwen {WEARING} Thalmor robes!
Failde’s expression soured when she started to talk. Almost instantly his hackles rose and felt his back stiffen at her words. Somehow he managed to hold back his initial thoughts by curbing his tongue and lowering his gaze from her face to the floor. A bosmer?! The thought in of itself made him cringe and feel in need of a chair to rest himself and gather his wits back. The bosmer was a race so decidedly beneath their own, that he thought the mere thought insulting. No doubt that was her ‘clever’ little game. By repulsing him, she hoped to gain more of an appreciation for running to her at every beck and call. No doubt…well, she could save her breath. He felt confident that she would never promote such a lesser species above him – a child sculpted by the divines, and so he gathered himself, brushed off his shoulder as if staving off some imaginary dust and met her gaze with one that had tempered the disgust at her proposal. “I desire no bosmer to touch me. As for having my hand held, that could also impose diseases I have no wish of contracting.” Though he knew she hadn’t meant literally, Failde couldn’t help but point out the disgust that he felt for those other races.
And why did she have to continue to bring up that wretched weapon he despises using so much? Failde rolled his eyes semi-upward while she was turned away and turned his nose. She continued to insist that it was a requirement for him to pick up that weapon and become extremely good at its use. He had no idea why she thought it was so important himself. Perhaps it could have a few small advantages…but surely nothing that really would make that big of a difference. Besides that, his use of magic could more than make up for his lack of desire to take up a bow. Whatever his opinion of the weapon though, he knew that Elenwen would want him to agree with her. And so he did, keeping his voice somewhat unconcerned. “Yes Elenwen, of course.”
…If he had ever wondered about if Elenwen was barbaric before this moment, he didn’t question it anymore. With an upturned nose and a raised eyebrow, he studied the poor souls that were now tied in this place, surrounded by the filth and grime around them. If he didn’t know better, he thought he could just feel the diseases swirling around the air around him. And if she thought that he was going to actually touch the nords that were tied before them, she was thinking wrong. They were a stupid lot naturally, but did they deserve torture? No. End their lives quickly if they needed to, but torture was for those that simply wanted to prey on those that were weaker than them. He couldn’t stand for it. Besides, these nords weren’t intelligent enough of creatures to deserve the torture.
And so he questioned her. Her look told him she didn’t like it, but Failde simply gave her that same look in return. His calm look of indifference and slight annoyance turned to one of horror when she actually laid the torturing instruments in front of him. He took a half step back and turned his gaze toward her again. “I will not touch such beings as these. Especially if one had a wound. They carry…different disease than us.”, he ended in a near whisper, his eyes flickering over toward the two bound nords. “I have no desire to catch whatever they may carry, especially having been in such a filthy place as this. No…I refuse to touch them.”
{NOTES} She's gonna kill him... |
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