Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-3293219-20140401162322/@comment-5735114-20140403232920

Solaris awoke at dawn, getting ready for the day in an unusually happy mood. Davioc would finally die. Gazing at the sunrise, as Solaris and his family had always believed it was the point of day when the Daedra were strongest, he imagined what the world would be like when the Daedra finally did come. In the middle of his happy daydream, however, Solaris heard Davioc awake and quietly mutter, breaking him out of one happy fantasy into another.

-

Davioc could hardly sleep with the impending fight looming over his head, and when he finally did manage it, his dreams were filled of all the gruesome ways Solaris could kill him. There was no way to run; he would die this day.

Slowly donning the robes he’d placed next to his bed, Davioc tried not to think of his death. However, he didn’t manage very well, and was on the verge of having a panic attack when Solaris cheerily called him to inform the preparedness of his breakfast.

Sulkily shuffling down the steps, Davioc slowly made his way down. Sitting at the opposite side of the table as Solaris, Davioc saw a large grin on his opponent’s face. Deciding to skip praying, Davioc continued picking at his breakfast but not really eating anything, his eyes following Solaris as he left.

-

Solaris practically bounded down the steps, but he knew he had to calm himself if his prayers were to work. Walking through the catacombs and into the dark prayer room, Solaris began praying before Nocturnal’s shrine first, needing all the luck he could get to ensure nobody walked upon his fight. He was the only remaining member of his family free from a murder accusation.

-

Looking around the dining room, Davioc’s eyes eventually fixed themselves on the window, as though yearning to be as carefree as the crowds that moved about the busy street just outside the mansion. Alas, he was not free. He was trapped in a spiked cage, just waiting to impale him.

Sighing, Davioc slowly stood up. Shuffling back up the steps, Davioc slowly made his way to his temporary room. Picking up his longsword, Davioc looked over it. There was still some dried blood on it, which he was previously either too foolish or proud to clean off. Grabbing a nearby sack, which appeared to be made for holding small crops, he began to furiously wipe the side of his sword with it, if not only do do something…