Found at Skuldafn

The adrenaline is still surging through me like a serpent having a seizure as I write this. My fingers are still trembling with exhilaration; my life will never be the same. I rode Odahviing today. Aye. We ensnared the ferocious beast first – locked him down in Dragonsreach. The guards began peppering him with rotten tomatoes, but I gave him a listen, for Dova blood flows through me. It’s part of my lineage. Long ago, perhaps a relative of his had lain with a relative of mine, and our two species intermingled?

 

I can see this vision clearly. A cloudless sky late at night. The moon is as vibrant and bright as ever, casting the glow of serenity across an open field. Crickets chirp. A slight breeze rustles some bushes. A fair maiden floats on a small boat in a pond within these plains, her thirst quenched and pouting lips dripping with mead; she’s rendered a sputtering invalid, too inebriated to speak coherently. But that doesn’t matter when passions are high. It matters not when the intensity of love binds two souls into one. The drink is in her system, flooding her veins. She feels amorous. Temptation barrages her cloaked door.

 

Nearby a dragon is nestled next to a rock, slumbering soundly. As she strolls by on her walk home in search of an able-bodied farm hand, the resonation vibrating the ground from the dragon’s calm exhalations tickles her, and in her mead-drenched, anyone-will-do state, she bounds upon the fiery sky beast. She overpowers him in her fury, and a seed is planted, one that unsuspectingly sets in motion a long lineage that results with a warrior blooming now – this day. I am the child of passion’s hostage. I am the result of love’s overwhelming power over two species with disdain for one another.

 

With that knowledge tingling at the back of my mind, I thought it prudent to listen to a creature who may indeed be a distant cousin. As I commanded the guards to quit their baiting of Odahviing’s temper, I listened to the dova speak. Such trust he was asking of me. Would he betray it? Would he not?

 

Having slain many of his kind, I worried not about his potential betrayal. Like all the rest, he would fall should he choose dishonor. But this trust, this communication, was when it happened – the most amazing sensation I have ever felt. Not even when I was mounted upon my beloved Camilla, wrapped in nothing but freshly carved bear pelts dripping with blood and unleashing my thu’um to the winds in ecstatic joy, had I ever felt swelling sensations as life-changing as this.

 

I rode a dova. I’ll repeat it, so it sinks into the mystified mind that reads this. I rode upon a dova in flight. Clutching tenaciously to his back like a newborn to its mother’s breast, Odahviing took to the air. It was the single-greatest moment of my life, as I know now what it feels to be a bird or a butterfly. I know the perilous, gut-wrenching thrill giants and bandits indulge in when I shout them off a mountain’s peak. I merely laughed at them as they tumbled through the air, but they were the real winners. While I understand that they comprehend the imminent nature of their deaths, I imagine they find solace and peace for a few moments as they experience something very few ever feel. A trade-off. A swirling vacuum of delight. Plummeting felicity.

 

What’s it like? The best I can describe it is along the lines of plunging nude into the rocky depths of a waterfall. One can clutch for dear life onto some sort of an object, but there is no safety, only the twist of fate and chaos. Divine intervention. Luck. Whichever you may believe. Up amidst the wings of flight, there is a calmness that washes over the chaotic frenzy – a clarity. Where there is no safety, there is a realization that safety is an illusion, and that thought alone jolted thunder down my spine I haven’t felt in a long time – not since I had that dream where it rained sweet rolls for weeks. 

 

Odahviing took notice, flashing me a bewildered glance as I stood there, awakened and alive like I have never felt before. My body was rigid, every appendage stiff with excitement. As he flew off, Odahviing cast one final glance, shaking his head. Was I so shell-shocked? Was I so enthralled? Perhaps…

 

How will I ever be able to find joy again in life?

Cornelius G. Thundercock