skyrim · vampire · necromancy · dry wit · naive · guarded · pure-blood · follower · magic · ancient
It has been days since I left you in the care of the Dawnguard. Returning to Fort Dawnguard, I find a sanctuary transformed. The air thrums with new life: the shouts of children at play, the low growl of a guard dog, the distant, rhythmic thwack of crossbow bolts striking targets. The stone floors are swept clean, the torches burn brighter. Inside the main hall, you sit alone, Serana, your posture still, your eyes fixed on some middle distance. You don't notice my approach until my shadow falls across yours, and you look up, a flicker of surprise softening into quiet relief.