Tagged : Iain | Words : 709 | Notes : I almost busted out laughing when I had to type about the lips.

Perhaps a small part of Amalie would have liked to see the Imperials attempting to set fire to the outer pastures burn the entirely of the lands down so she would have nothing tying her to her disguised prison any longer. If the lands were gone, and the riches that were tied into them, her shackles would finally come off, and perhaps she could find her own fires to start here or there, the consequences could be damned. Those fires were the fires of freedom, to use a quote that many a Stormcloak officer over the past months had used. That part of her that did not care if the place went down under Imperial flames was currently stifled, though, with the need to see every one of them burn in their own fires for daring to touch her life again.

”Take buckets to the north pasture and tell them to leave before the fire catches the house! Let the cattle loose on the way!”, she barked to the first group of hands that she encountered, wishing that she would be lucky enough for the cattle to stampede over each of the Imperials themselves. How General Tullius and his band of jesters would love to hear such a report. Amalie had turned to wish on that thought to herself and continue on with her business of doing what she could to contain the situation – hoping she’d see the Stormcloaks from the nearby camp emerging from the woods soon and cursing them ahead of time for being late, though at most they were five minutes into the attack. Amalie had been quietly spending her morning in the manor, scribbling together work instructions for some of the hands, when the call had come that Imperials had been spotted on the outskirts of the land. A short delay of Amalie’s disbelief and, once she’d spotted them herself, the grabbing of her bow had been the only way she’d filled those minutes before exiting the household, utterly underdressed for the situation since it was still morning, and praying to Talos that she got a chance to send one of the arrows slung over her shoulder through an Imperial skull.

Just as she turned to see about doing so, though, or at least discover where the Imperials had moved since she’d gone for her bow, she stopped and turned back with the obvious signs that she’d forgotten something. ”And arm yourselves! Take your weapons from the barns!” The hands all looked back at her as if she was crazy to expect them to truly get arms and fight the Imperials if it came to it (or maybe they were amazed that she could be so forceful while looking as if she was still in bed), but once she fixed them all with an impassive gaze that dared them to protest, they all rushed off towards the barn, deciding that Imperial fury was far better than Amalie’s. At the moment, with the way she regarded the helmeted heads standing at the far end of the pastures from the manor with their torches and swords in their hands, they might have decided correctly.

Again, the same feeling of constriction hit her. She realized it would be foolish and irresponsible for her to essentially rush out at them to get into range to take a few angered shots at them when she doubted she’d hit them anyway. Yet her feet refused to stop moving, leading her to impatiently pace back and forth in place, no use to anyone, as she considered her next action. The horses…she could always get Tyr and check the perimeter for hands that were proving to be cowards instead of helping. She could run and fetch the Stormcloaks from the camp herself if they were too foolish to notice the fires themselves. Or she could continue to stand in her night clothes and stew over the situation, as the Imperials continued to walk their way through the outer fields and raze them. Pursing her lips, she refitted her bow uncomfortably on her shoulder and started her way towards the stables to get Tyr. If anything, she would go yell at the Imperials herself and they had better pray yelling was all she did. Halfway there, though, she thought she noticed forms emerging from the woods.

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 400px; background-color: #171818; padding:20px; border-top: 10px #171818 solid; border-bottom: 10px #171818 solid;] A warning to the people the good and the evil.THIS MEANS WAR {WORDS } 1567 {TAGGED } Amalie {WEARING} Armor “Sure you’ve gotta head out, Iain? I’ve still got a bit of gold stashed away if you want to have another game of cards before you go.” Draining the last of his coffee, Iain sat his cup back down with the rest of the dishes and shook his head in regret. “Nah, Drake, I’ve gotta keep moving. I’ve already stayed too long. That group of Imperials I’ve been trailing probably have a jump on me now, and I’d sure as hell like to know what this group is up to. Seems…different.” Smiling regretfully, he stuck his hand out to shake the hand of what may have been his most known friend in the army. “I know Iain, but I’ve already cleaned the rest out of gold, and they’re no fun to play anyway.” With a good natured laugh, Iain slapped his friend on the back. “So that’s all I am? A way to get more gold?” “Hey, I’m not the one with the rich folks, now am I.” While gathering his few belongings, Iain shook his head. “From what I hear, you do pretty well yourself in that regard, so don’t play that game with me.” Belting on his sword – and leaving his second tied to his saddle, Iain slapped his saddlebags over his shoulder and started to where his palomino stallion was obediently tied, waiting for his masters attention. “Wait up, I’ll ride with you a ways.” Having reached his stallion, Iain took a moment to run a curry over his back, smoothing the hairs down, before he slipped the comb back in his bags and lifted the blanket to settle between the withers and haunches of his well-bred animal. Smoothing that out to ensure no wrinkles, Iain stooped to grasp his saddle. “Ever get sick of scouting Iain? Wanna get on one camp and stay there?” With a shrug, Iain glanced over to where his friend was saddling his mount, then at a few scattered Stormcloak’s preparing for the day – some saddling their mounts and some already having done so and packing up for a day of soldier duties . “Sometimes. You know, when I’m in need of some gold and I don’t have my good ol’ pal Drake to win it from.” With one smooth motion, he swung the saddle from the ground and up to the back of his tall stallion. Shifting it slightly, Iain patted the tawny shoulder of his horse and leaned under Bud’s girth to easily grab the cinch. “Yeah right, like you could take all my gold away from me. There’s a reason no one will play in the camp.” Iain just smiled off the warning while he tightened up the belly strap and quickly diamond knotted it to be assured it wouldn’t be coming off anytime soon. “But no really. There’s this farm north of here…” Iain shrugged and eyed his friend, wondering at the new tone of voice. “Yeah? So?” The smirk he got was enough to get his thick brow to arch. “You always could pick out a nice looking woman from the crowd Snow-Proud, but I bet you’ve seen nothing like the filly that runs that farm, she’s a Stormcloak supporter too.” Rolling his eyes lightly, he shook his head. “This is why they don’t let you scout, Drake. You’d go chasing every skirt possible and end up strapped to a chair in Solitude, begging to keep all your pieces.” The grin didn’t tell Iain that he had gotten through to his friend, and so he could just hope that he wouldn’t have to hear anytime that Drake had gotten himself into the situation. “That makes the both of us remember. Well, your loss, Iain. But if you ever want to settle down to a camp…might not be a bad way to pass the time, you know? You always did have the charm with females, though this one might not be so easy to sweet talk.” Iain couldn’t help but feel intrigued at that comment, as well as a spurt of a challenge, as if he needed to see this ‘filly’, and why it would be so hard for him to charm her. Still, he couldn’t imagine she’d look any different from the ‘fillies’ back in Solitude. A bunch of fancy clothes and petty desires. “So what now? Where are you off to?” Iain didn’t have to think about that as he settled his saddlebags on his stallions flank and tied them there securely. “I’ve got some locations of camps that they need to know about back in Windhelm. Could be useful to wipe them out, especially with a few so close to home. Aside from that, I’m going to continue trailing that group I was telling you about. They seem to have a purpose…but so far they haven’t made any moves to attack anyone. It’s almost like they have a certain goal in mind.” It was odd behavior, to be sure, but Iain didn’t know what to make of it yet anyway. Instead, he simply kept it in the back of his mind and retrieved his bridle from where he had hung it. Slipping the halter off his stallion, Iain quickly slipped the bit into the mouth and easily adjusted it around the palomino’s ears. Buckling the strap, he just so happened to glance north, when he noticed the smoke. Stilling, Iain narrowed his eyes to look at it to be sure it wasn’t his imagination. “Hey, Drake?” “Yeeaup?” Pointing to the north, Iain glanced back over his shoulder at his friend. “Didn’t you say that farm with the ‘uncharm-able filly’ is north of here?” “Yeah! Why do yo-…Ooh shit.” Shit was right. Well, so much for an easy day. Scooping up his bow from where he had rested it against the tree, Iain caught up his reins and swung up and onto his tall stallion. “We’ve got some sort of fire! Get astride!”, he barked out, instantly in command of the situation as men scrambled for their weapons and mounts. With a few men with him – and more mounting up to follow, Iain let his already excited mount have his head and hissed in his ear. Feeling the freedom against the bit in his mouth, his mount took his cue and instantly surged forward and stretched out until he had been urged into a gallop toward where Iain had noticed the fire. As good of a rider as any, Iain weaved his stallion in and out of obstacles and kept a hand on his eager mount, but he did so with a graceful ease that can only be learned in time. Though not built for speed by any means, their horses were nonetheless perfectly suited for stamina, and Iain simply had to keep his seat while his stallion and ran his way through the snow at a steady gallop. And so it was in good time that they made the farm, the smell of smoke reaching his nose and irritating his eyes and senses. With narrowed eyes, he noticed that they had made it quickly to where the house and stables were. Good! And so their group rumbled out of the woods and began pulling up at Iain’s upturned hand signal. The first thing he noticed was the woman – nicely shaped woman he didn’t fail to notice – running through the snow in clothes more suited for bed, with a bow that looked a bit too big for her. Still, his sister managed alright, and she was smaller and lighter than this one. And what in Talos’ name was she doing outside? Spurring his stallion forward again, Iain slid to a stop to block her path. Twisting in his saddle and easily keeping the command among the soldiers, Iain gestured north more. “Drake! Take two and head North! Sven, take the rest and circle around to the Northwest, cut down any Imperials you find.” On an off thought, he gave them a second command. "And put out those fires if you can!" Dismounting in one fluid movement, Iain dropped his reins to ground-tie his stallion and went to meet the woman to tell her to kindly get back in the house and let them take care of it. He had to admit, though, that he lost all train of thought once he actually saw her. Damn, no wonder Drake had said she was a fine looking filly. She was that, and all wrapped up in all too little for any male to have a coherent thought around her. Thankfully for him, the thundering of hoofbeats past him drew him out of his moment of mental slumber so that he could get his mind about him. “Ma’am, I’d ask that you get back to the house so you don’t get caught in any crossfire. We’ll take care of this.”, he said with a gesture around them. And though he should probably tell her to get more clothes on, he couldn’t quite bring himself to. With that, he was once more on the back of his stallion, his bow out and ready for battle. He hadn’t failed to notice her lips either… {NOTES} So...that initial scene was supposed to be really small, and it turned out way longer than I meant 8'D Also Iain says that she should make him a sammich while she's inside >>

table by CALIFORNIA DREAMING of CAUTION 2.0, lyrics by maroon 5

Tagged : Iain | Words : 662 | Notes : You should teach me horse things before I post next time.

Everything seemed a reason for Amalie’s fury, though she know most of it was not under her control. The rocks under her bare feet hurt. The wind whipping against her clothing was starting to get on her nerves. And for whatever reason, as she jogged angrily towards the barn to get her horse, all the while trying to keep her bow and clothing altogether on her shoulders, she felt a wave of frustration seeing the Stormcloaks emerge from the woods. She recalled that she rather detested the men from the camp who occasionally came by to check on the land and the manor. They were either drunk on something they’d gotten from a Temple of Mara, or they were rude and callous to anyone who wasn’t basically worshipping them for keeping this area protected. Amalie didn’t concern herself with the figures merging from the wood beyond glaring at them angrily and going on about her own business. Then…she recalled her manner of dress. Stopping suddenly, she bit her lower lip and suddenly felt trapped between the barn and the house, knowing neither was close enough for her to flee and find some way to acquire more coverage. Damn, that she’d have to deal with such problems while here lands were being burned. Eventually deciding that the Stormcloaks had best be worried with the Imperials rather than her, she swung back to the barn and started trudging off again, trying to seem more dignified this time though she was sure she didn’t look it at all. She simply glared down to her feet.

She only heard them all barking orders with her eyes turned down, and hoped to the divines that they would totally ignore her, thinking her to be headed to the barn to hide or something else that was probably expected of a woman in the eyes of Stormcloak men. However, she became all too aware of approaching footsteps. Had she looked up to find one of the fool tenants from before having run back to her like a coward, she would have been more pleased. Instead, it was one of the Stormcloaks – a boy, albeit a…capable looking one, who would surely have wide, gaping eyes to see any actual woman before him. Her gaze fell on him, head to toe, with the most bored of expressions. She had hoped he would simply say to join him on his horse or something else not as demeaning, but his words took the fire already in her chest and carried it to her eyes. How dare he ask her to cower in the house. ”Like Oblivion I’ll go back into the house,” she retorted, harshly, as his words made her totally forget about her clothing situation. Instead, she turned to narrow her eyes at the boy, jabbing a finger in his direction even as she stomped past to enter the barn. ”My means of living is on fire, and I will do as much as any of you blundering Stormcloaks to make sure it’s protected.”

Unfortunately, as soon as she had gotten the words out of her mouth, the bow slipped from her shoulder to her waist awkwardly. She avoided the boy’s gaze long enough to slow and move the string back to her shoulder. ”And why are you coming for me?”, she demanded, as a cover to her mistake, as she entered the barn and made a quick job of ignoring potential splinters meant for her feet as she roughly opened Tyr’s stall. ”Help with the actual problem, like I plan to do.” By the time she had finished, she had the horse led to the lip of the barn where she could mount him, and began to do so before she again remembered her clothing situation. Stopping short, she hid an angered glare by keeping the horse between her and the boy, before shoving her head around Tyr. ”Look away or…go away to do what Jarl Ulfric asks of you. Now.”

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 400px; background-color: #171818; padding:20px; border-top: 10px #171818 solid; border-bottom: 10px #171818 solid;] A warning to the people the good and the evil.THIS MEANS WAR {WORDS } 1104 {TAGGED } Amalie! {WEARING} Stormcloak armor Iain couldn’t help but notice the particular look that crossed her face as soon as he had kindly told her to get her backside back in the house. He’d seen that exact same look flicker over his sister enough times to realize what was coming next. And damn if he didn’t wish he’d stumbled across a filly that would actually listen, versus carry on and argue with him. The sharp tone in her voice wasn’t lost to him either. Thankfully, he wasn’t at a complete loss for what to say, having had to deal with…should he say, temperamental women in his lifetime. While his mother was the perfect specimen of what a noble woman should be, his sister had gotten just as much man, it would seem at times, as the rest of the sons had, just wrapped up in a prettier package. “It wasn’t a request.”, he snapped back, though he tried to keep his tone as civil as he could. Damn, why did she have to be an obstinate one? From the way she jabbed her finger at him, and continued to rant as she walked by, he figured that he wasn’t going to be getting through to her with words alone. For a moment, Iain stood and watched her as she stomped away. If he wasn’t already frustrated with her, he’d be appreciating the view. But instead, all he could think of was that she was going to break her fool neck, or get killed within a matter of moments. Shaking his head almost angrily, Iain gathered his reins, stuck a foot in his stirrup, and swung aboard to settle a bit heavier in the saddle than normally, shooting her that same look of frustration that he was feeling. His look softened a bit – though there was plenty of amusement there – while he was watching her attempts at correcting her bow. “Yes ma’am, I don’t know if you should trust us ’blundering Stormcloaks’ with anything.” Alright, so that was a bit below the beltline, but he was fighting the urge to tug at his hair in frustration already. The last thing he needed was some beautiful woman running around in between two sides of a war getting herself killed just because she wouldn’t sit down and let them deal with it. He was already telling himself it wasn’t his problem, though. It was her property, so whatever she wanted to do, it wasn’t any of his business, dying included. With a firm nod, Iain eased his hands forward until his stallion had a looser rein and tapped him lightly in the sides, enough of a signal for his stallion to have lunged into a canter, excitement fueling his actions. He’d only made it a few lengths, though, when he pulled his stallion up. “Damn.”, he muttered, before turning his stallion roughly back toward where the woman was now at the barn and returning to her. Once more pulling his stallion up, Iain dismounted, strung his bow on his saddle horn and once more left his stallion to stand while he followed the woman near the barn. He didn’t have time to talk down a stubborn woman, but he wasn’t about to have her death hanging over his head either. If he didn’t think she would destroy the house, he would drag her inside and lock the door. Instead, here he was, following her into the barn in hopes of talking her out of whatever the hell she thought she was going to be accomplishing. At her question, Iain rolled his eyes heavenward and clasped his hands behind his back – as if asking for the patience he needed to deal with her. “I’m trying to stop you from getting yourself killed.” His voice was exasperated when he said it, before he watched her movements while saddling her aging horse. Iain wasn’t sure if the horse would make it half a mile without slumping over with exhaustion, though even he would admit that the horses of Skyrim were made of something far beyond flesh and blood. No, there was iron mixed in there somewhere. Aside from that, he’d rather have her on this, than some flighty yearling if she insisted on trying to get herself killed. “We sure didn’t have to come if you’re so all fired ready to do this single-handedly.”, Iain mentioned, his hands still clasped behind his back. “Your hired help looked very equipped to deal with a group of Imperial soldiers.”, he said sarcastically a moment later while remembering them scuttling off. And finally they got to the real issue - her clothing choice to chase after a group of Imperials. And all of a sudden, he felt as if he had all the time in the world to stand there and chat with her, rather than help the Stormcloak group with what they were doing. “You weren’t worried about my looking a moment ago.” Iain leaned against a post connected with a stall, crossed his arms over the chest, and gave her a grin while she glared at him from across her aging horse. “I was suggesting you go to the house to wait it out so I didn’t have to mention your apparent need to traipse around without any proper clothing on, but you wouldn’t let me be so delicate about the situation.” With a slight shrug, Iain never lost his smile. He rather enjoyed tormenting about it. Hell, he had a battle to fight outside; he didn’t need one with this stubborn woman. “With all due respect, ma’am, I’ve already seen most of what I will if you mount that old horse of yours. If you’d rather wait inside the house so I didn’t get to see anymore, though, that would be fine.” It probably wasn’t nice to do this to her, but hell, she’d brought it on herself. And his patience was wearing thin. {NOTES} He does not like his manliness threatened XD

table by CALIFORNIA DREAMING of CAUTION 2.0, lyrics by maroon 5

Tagged : Iain | Words : 973 | Notes : I still am bad at this horse thing.

Oh, Amalie could tell she wasn’t going to like what was about to come out of this boy’s mouth. Did anyone in this day and age have any respect for a woman? Did they? Naturally, her heightened emotions caused every word that reached her ears to anger her further, but she still thought herself to be very justified in the absolutely disgusted look she gave the boy when he told her that he wasn’t making a request to her. Her jaw dropped lightly, and she tried to catch herself from saying something nonsensical in her sudden, boiling anger at the words. Did all the foolish Stormcloak children running around with their weapons think they could order just anyone around as if they were soldiers? Ulfric needed to remember that discipline made a good soldier, not just the fanatical swinging of a sword. Finally, after squinting her eyes closed for a second, she came up with some decent insult to spit back at him. ”Now you Stormcloaks are in the business of giving orders to civilian sympathizers, are you? I can’t say the cordiality from Ulfric’s men is anything more than I expected,” she told him, spitefully. ”Then hang me for insubordination, because I have absolutely no intention of listening to you.” And just to make sure he fully understood, she stomped past defiantly. If he wanted to stop her, let him do it, and she would have half the Stormcloak army on his scrawny little ass to remind him that he really held no power in the countryside of Skyrim with the people living there.

Oh Divines, help her with him. She stopped in the middle of refitting her bow over the shoulder long enough to glare daggers through him, her jaw set, though she was sure her neck showed a few signs of embarrassment, especially remembering that not only had she fumbled slightly exactly when she needed to avoid fumbling, but she stood before him still in her night clothing. She pointedly looked away, her nostrils flaring as she stared down and got it back in place. ”You had best be glad I don’t show you who is truly blundering by shooting you in the leg with this blasted old thing,” she mumbled to herself under her breath, feeling a great sense of accomplishment when she looked back up with it fitted and noticed that he seemed to be leaving. Her steps towards her horse continued, with her half-smiling as she turned away, glad the boy was actually deciding to do his job instead of tend to things he had no business tending to. If he beheaded an Imperial before she slayed one with an arrow, maybe she would even thank hi-

She stopped, turning around to point a finger in his face again, while he resumed his pursuit of her. If he so much as dared to cause her any more trouble or waste much more time… ”Oh, do you expect me to rush in and swing my sword around like a madman like you soldiers? I am not going to get killed, but by all means, continue talking and let my entire life be burned down. I’ll want to find a sword to throw my body on should that happen.” Huffing, Amalie turned briskly and roughly enough to scrub her toe against the boards that composed the floor of the barn, but she, through gritted teeth, ignored it totally and took several, noticeably more easy steps towards Tyr and away from the boy. It seemed he would leave her alone long enough for her to prepare herself to ride, but still, he never seemed to cease with his talking. Divines, where did they find him? Why didn’t Talos set a fire to his ass to get him wanting battle instead of discussion? She was sure Tyr was enjoying this enthralling conversation, as she leaned over him slightly from where she busily worked to get him ready to bark back at the boy again. ”If you had any sense in your head, you would join the rest of your little mercenary band, but you are still standing right here in front of me. Perhaps I wouldn’t have to fight if you would.” She almost – almost – challenged him by asking if he was scared of the fight, but instead of opening her mouth to say it, she hesitated slowly and lowered her head a bit, staring at him under knitted eyebrows almost as a way to say that he had avoided a great insult.

And damn if he wasn’t some little, hormonal boy. Amalie wanted nothing more than to throw something, anything, in the barn at his head for the foolish argument he was making, and for a few seconds while he continued making his little quips about how she could change to something decent in the house, she eyed the bucket beside her and considered how much force it could have against a Nord skull. But with all of the focus she could muster, she refrained, only looking at him with eyes that dared him to continue. And he did continue…but he was not going to win this by any circumstances. She gripped her reins hard, almost scrubbing her hands when she did so, before she started leading Tyr off to the side, behind some stacks of supplies. ”Grow up,” she said, roughly, before using her momentary cover to place her foot in the stirrups and swing up onto Tyr as she had done half a million times over the years. Making sure her gown stayed where it was supposed to be, she swung Tyr around briskly and almost sent him out of the barn in a run, pointedly not looking at the boy as she rushed past and made for the battle she believed he should have been participating in.

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 400px; background-color: #171818; padding:20px; border-top: 10px #171818 solid; border-bottom: 10px #171818 solid;] A warning to the people the good and the evil.THIS MEANS WAR {WORDS } 832{TAGGED } Amalie! {WEARING} Stormcloak armor This woman...how the hell had his buddy thought Iain would want her? Sure, she was pretty enough - far above and beyond that really - but not worth it with that soured expression and the lip she gave to the man that happened to be saving her damned worthless farm and attempting to save her own life. Ungrateful one she was. Drake could have her for all Iain cared. She'd probably bite your hand off before she let anyone pet her anyway. "Us Stormcloaks are in the business of trying to save ignorant women from getting themselves killed.", he countered. While she stomped by, he stared at her from the back. "Yeah, I understand that you've got yourself a high horse you won't get off of, you didn't need to point it out." He'd never treated a woman so poorly in his life, but damn it, she needed to listen before she really got herself killed. Bossy bit of goods anyway, even if it was fine to look at - which he realized taking the extra moment to glance at the sway of her hips. When she caught him, he lifted a shoulder in a shrug, deciding he'd kill her faster with forced kindness. "I have no doubt you would be able to shoot me in the leg. Maybe if you aimed for my head you'll hit it. If you'd like I can stand still and let you try." There was no doubt in his mind that this woman would probably get fired up instantly at that bit. Iain nearly grinned at the thought. He went through moments of almost enjoying riling her up this way. His mother would be ashamed of him no doubt. And while he attempted to leave, he eventually just accepted that he couldn't leave any woman - even one so hard headed as this one - to die and simply turned his stallion around. Nearly immediately he regretted ever having dismounted once more, as she went into a dramatic rant that made him roll his eyes and think of his older sister. Finding a sword to fall on... He actually snorted when she said that, propping up his hands on his waist and quirking an eyebrow at her while he watched as if they had all day to chat. "Alright. But don't worry, we'll find you a sword to fall on if it comes to that. You could use mine if you'd like, one has to be a gentleman sometime." He was rewarded for that too - with another show of that lovely backside and swaying hips while she stomped off, and even grinned when she did something to harm herself. To her honor, she didn't say anything, which did mildly impress him. With a rather large grin on his face, Iain lifted his hands level to his chest when she told him to grow up. It was obvious by every move and look she had that she would rather be clawing his eyes out than simply telling him he needed to grow up, but out of the both of them, he didn't think it was him that needed to do a little maturing. "Says the girl so hellbent on fighting Imperials despite an unsteady hand with a bow, an old nag, and wearing her nightclothes." Still, he had to move aside and stalk after her when her old nag brushed past him and headed for the hills. Exiting the barn, Iain swung back up on his stallion and urged him into a higher gate to catch up with the obstinate woman - slowing Zavier to stay abreast with the aging horse this woman was riding. If he couldn't keep her back at the farm, he supposed he'd have to keep her alive. Great... {NOTES} I always feel weird Rping a man...

table by CALIFORNIA DREAMING of CAUTION 2.0, lyrics by maroon 5

Tagged : Iain | Words : 663 | Notes : Not a thing! :3

She could not believe that he had let this devolve into a back-and-forth instead of fighting the Imperials. Didn't these barbaric Stormcloaks enjoy slaughtering their enemies? Why would one want to waste his time in a needless conversation over a subject that Amalie would never sway on? If she hadn't thought him some young, immature fool before, she surely did now. Knowing these Stormcloaks, he'd likely walked his way over here just for the sole purpose of getting a nice, long look at her, since judging by most that wandered the grounds from time to time, the Stormcloaks from the local camp had absolutely nothing akin to decency and would have likely had Amalie divided among them if they ever had the chance. The thought sent another bristle of anger through her body, and though she was attempting to avoid entertaining the boy with more words for him to attempt to twist and turn into something immature and ignorant, she could not help but blurt out at him yet again to...get him to...just...shut up and leave her alone for good. Her eyes blared at him when she whirled. "Please, go back to your homestead and beg your parents to teach you how to treat a lady. Had you received the debilitating knock on your head when they provided that lesson to their children?" Somehow, the insult hadn't come out quite as sharply as she had wished for it to, as the diplomat within her could not bring her to outright insult the boy's family, who might have been perfectly nice despite their rude, insolent son. Amalie hoped her scowl told him just how rude and insolent he was just before she turned.

She thought he would leave. But no! Far too foolish and insolent and...well, she was running out of words to describe the boy, but they all seemed to apply quite well, didn't they? Especially when he was offering, to her ears, to kill her. Just like a damn Stormcloak to offer to kill anyone in sight! "Ah, now you threaten me," Amalie said under her breath, almost more seriously than any of her other comments. "What a noble little Stormcloak, playing soldier." She wanted to continue, but as she was getting more and more sick of listening to him - and knowing he couldn't really do all that much to her without getting in trouble with his superiors for pestering one of their quality allies - she just tried to continue on and pretend he didn't exist for a short time...at least until he revealed that her earlier assumption that he was just a lech like most of the Stormcloaks set her to anger again.

She managed to withhold that anger until she had mounted her horse and was ready to ride off, before he made one last comment in an apparent effort to keep her away. She had one last comment, as well. "Well prove that you're a better fighter than she is," she challenged him, quietly, before she rushed on past with Tyr and made for the general direction of the fight, which seemed to be rather even so far - she could see some of the Stormcloaks and Imperials engaging one another as she squinted in their direction. At least the Imperials were too busy to set more things on fire. As Amalie approached, she carefully snagged the bow from her back, now more adept at the act without some young, ignorant fool staring at her, and drew an arrow from her quiver. She didn't get close - she wasn't a fool, after all, and knew that the Imperial armor would prove more effective than her night clothes in a fight - and simply urged Tyr to the left to get the Imperials in better sight for a shot. Once in better position, she squinted an eye shut and aimed, preparing to take a shot at one of the vicious elf-lovers once he emerged from around the tree. She couldn't fight? She'd show that boy.