Blackwater Islands You go back there when you’re done

Head hanging low and blood flowing from a wet, black nose, he stands unmoving. All except for his heaving breaths and low growls. Footsteps break him from his fury filled thoughts. A scent hardly makes its way past the smell of blood. 

The shadow.

He lifts his head slowly, head tilting towards her but body never moving. He meets her mismatched orbs and holds the gaze. A purple tongue rasps over whiskered lips, flicking to lap the wine red substance off of his nose. He wonders what she thinks of him. He’d soon figure out.

Alduin. You are ill, His dark friend comments, stepping fearlessly towards him. Your aura is tainted. The spirits hide from you.

His auds shift back on his skull, not in shame, but anger. He knows. It’s not directed towards her, but more at what he’s become. 

He clears his throat and takes languid steps towards her, almost coming nose to nose with the woman — only a few inches separating them. 

“I know.” He drawls, voice gravelly and rough. But his tone isn’t malicious. Sure it’s gruff, but it's understanding. But at her spirit comment he scoffs out a humorless laugh. “Not all of them.”

He still has one. The worst one of all — his Banesteppe. His curse.

Only he levels her with a deathly look. Not one of savagery, but one of acknowledgment. “I am cursed, my Shadow.” He growls deeply, anger coursing through his veins. He can’t do anything about it.