That evening
I have not missed the area around Winterhold. It’s pretty enough, if I stop thinking like a Bosmer, but the night air tends toward breezes and kicks up snow that is burningly cold against the face and ears.
The moons are always clearly visible, though.
Serana seems less than impressed. “I’ve seen plenty of nightscapes before.”
At least I won’t live long enough to get bored of pretty things. Unless I end up with Nocturnal instead of Hircine and end up spending my afterlife bored of pretty things.
…I’ve made a mess of my death. Maybe I should just be a vampire and collectively tell all the Daedra to stuff it.







…Get back here.