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Ice Breaker Page 1
So gather 'round, furry children, and let Auntie Weedurrr tell you about the SECOND time she went to the nuthouse. That's right. Second time. So, while there, there was ABSOLUTE DICK to do, so Auntie Weedurrr aggravated the jailers and overseers there until they gave her an offering of typing paper and a single tiny golf pencil and a rubber band (to erase with, because, yanno, apparently I could kill and or hurt myself with a decent...eraser?). Anyway, with the suggestions of some fellow whackos who happen to be nerds at the nuthouse, this comic is what happened. Enjoy.
As for the comic itself, it may or may not be fanon in the end. I dunno. Don't look at me like that, you people act like I actually plan this shit out.
As for the comic itself, it may or may not be fanon in the end. I dunno. Don't look at me like that, you people act like I actually plan this shit out.
Category Artwork (Traditional) / General Furry Art
Species Unspecified / Any
Size 1280 x 1024px
File Size 650.9 kB
Listed in Folders
Kiss Under the Snowberries
Iona yawned silently, covering her mouth as she followed Jarl Ulfric out of the Stormcloak camp near Falkreath. He had woken her up just before dawn to deliever her orders and had asked her the Khajiit to accompany him. "My Jarl, I don't quite understand...where are you taking me?" "There is more to being a Nord than just simply fighting well," he said in his usual gruff voice," and it is a good lesson to learn." She rolled her eyes, her tail twitched nonchalantly.
It had been four weeks since the Battle of Whiterun and Iona had finally recovered thanks to Ulfric's care though he now knew that she was Dovahkiin. Dragonborne, summoned by the Greybeards upon High Hrothgar. Still struggling to accept her title, Iona had asked Ulfric, practically begged him not to tell the others. At least until she was able to accept it herself. After a good while, Ulfric came to a halt with Iona beside him. "We're here" he said as watched the Cat's turquoise eyes light up in awe at the massive trees bearing blood-red berries that seemed to glisten in the dawns early light.
"By the Nine...."
"See?" He said with a grin," a Nord must be a warrior and a poet. To know both horror and beauty." He watched her reach up and gently hold a cluster of the berries regarding their beauty. She was smiling fondly as the sun's first rays made the berries glow a faint red against the white tuffs of her on her cheeks. "Beautiful isn't it?" Iona nodded her head as her ears flicked forward in curiousity. "These are the largest snowberry trees in all of Skyrim. I was barely the size of a skeever when Da showed them to me," Ulfric sighed as his eyes filled with the fond memory.
"I'm assuming there is more to this tale?"
"Hehe. Indeed" he chuckled regarding her," Da told me that these frozen red berries were the crystallized blood of our forebears, still solid, still real, still here, standing against the snow of Skyrim." He carefully snapped a small bunch from the tree. And Iona cocked one ear to the side confused then flinched when he reached towards her face only to feel his large hand brush against her cheek and he placed the small bustle in to her hair just above her ear. To Ulfric's surprise the snowberries seemed to enhance the tiny Khajiit's beauty.
Dovahkiin...why? Why do I feel like this? He thought a faint blush formed on his cheeks, I'm a foolish boy! I have no time for the feelings of a foolish boy and yet... And she was so beautiful...so very soft. The sun's rays enhancing the colors of her silky fur, its rays caught in her raven hair. Even her shimmering turquoise eyes seemed to be drawing him in. Inviting him.
His body moved on it's own as he rested his hand on her shoulder, his thumb gentling caressing her neck. Iona gazed into the Nord's sudden almost affectionate eyes finding herself unable to look away. What was this feeling? His hand then tilted her chin upwards stunned at how little she was resisting, brought his lips to hers and kissed her.
As their lips parted, Iona and Ulfric gazed into each other's eyes both blushing faintly in a trance like state. His eyes...the color of the storms of his surname, eyes that would have at once frightened her now held her captive. "Enough of this!" He snapped irritated and quickly turned away from her, his composure returning. "The men will be looking for you and Ralof to lead them. There is a war to fight," he said coldly as he glanced over his shoulder eyeing her as she blinked in surprise then nodded her feline head sadly.
"...yes...my Jarl" she replied confused by his strange behaviour.
Why are you angry? She wondered as she followed him, her gaze fixated on his back. Soon another thought invaded her thoughts. Was it that embarrassing for a Nord to be with a Khajiit? "I'm a fool to think you'll ever see me as anything other than a cat. Ice-Veins, Bonebreaker...or Dovahkiin..." She whispered low so he wouldn't hear her.
All were just empty titles to her...
As the camp came into view, Ulfric was lost in his thoughts until he found himself thinking about the kiss, and he frowned at himself. He inhaled the cold air trying to keep his mind on his men and his country, not on some boyish fantasies. But her soft lips and beautiful eyes continued to cloud his mind.
It was the tugging on his hand that made him stop. He turned slightly to see the Cat was holding his hand, a sad light in her eyes. Taking a sad breath, Iona plucked the snowberries from her raven hair. I get it, Jarl of Windhelm. No matter how I bleed for your cause...a cause my own heart shares for its own reasons, my blood will never be enough, she thought, for my blood is not the blood of the Children of the Sky... To every noble she had served, she was still the same: Iona the Branded. And thus she'd remain, Khajiit, Cat, Rug, and Sneak thief. It was alright though. All someone like her needed was to know where she stood. Her blood mattered not and yet she'd still bleed for him all the same.
Worry not my Jarl, her eyes said as she placed the tiny branch into his open palm, my blood will be on the next battlefield, though it may never be enough, it will be there.
Iona sighed her tail drooping along with her ears, and continued on ahead towards the camp leaving Ulfric standing in the snow watching her back. Once she had disappeared into a large tent where Ralof was waiting for her, the Bear of Markarth lowered his gaze to the blood-frozen berries in his hand and he frowned disappointed in himself. Dovahkiin...Iona...it is not like that. No, thats not...it is...used to be. But then there's you.
"I knew something had changed when Ralof brought you back from Whiterun, bleeding in my throneroom, the fire of your own Voice still burning your throat." He gently wrapped his calloused hand around the tiny berry filled glancing up at the tent fainting hearing her relaying his orders to their fellow brothers and sisters in arms, "I'd never felt such kinship for someone before in my life. You fought your first Jarl...your first benefactor in a strange land to save one of my men. Like I had, you'd used the power of the voice against one of your own. Like I had, you'd committed a great sin for a greater cause."
He cleared his throat silently and walked in to the camp to untie his horse. Approaching Gyllir he untethered his reins and climbed into the saddle. Walking behind the tent, Ulfric glanced at it.
In the beginning, your hatred for a common enemy was enough for me. Your skill was needed. When I found out YOU were the Dragonborne called from High Hrothgar to save my land, you became indispensable...he thought, after Whiterun, after I bandaged your wounds, because I alone knew how such wounds felt, you became something more. Ulfric nudged Gyllir and the creature trotted out a secret path in the dense forest behind the camp.
He brought his horse to a halt and they both turned their heads towards the now very distant camp. "I'm sorry Iona. You'll never hear it from men, but I'm sorry" he sighed then rode off back to Windhelm.
I will find a way to show you that your blood is enough...that it has always been enough. I was just a fool to believe otherwise...
Iona yawned silently, covering her mouth as she followed Jarl Ulfric out of the Stormcloak camp near Falkreath. He had woken her up just before dawn to deliever her orders and had asked her the Khajiit to accompany him. "My Jarl, I don't quite understand...where are you taking me?" "There is more to being a Nord than just simply fighting well," he said in his usual gruff voice," and it is a good lesson to learn." She rolled her eyes, her tail twitched nonchalantly.
It had been four weeks since the Battle of Whiterun and Iona had finally recovered thanks to Ulfric's care though he now knew that she was Dovahkiin. Dragonborne, summoned by the Greybeards upon High Hrothgar. Still struggling to accept her title, Iona had asked Ulfric, practically begged him not to tell the others. At least until she was able to accept it herself. After a good while, Ulfric came to a halt with Iona beside him. "We're here" he said as watched the Cat's turquoise eyes light up in awe at the massive trees bearing blood-red berries that seemed to glisten in the dawns early light.
"By the Nine...."
"See?" He said with a grin," a Nord must be a warrior and a poet. To know both horror and beauty." He watched her reach up and gently hold a cluster of the berries regarding their beauty. She was smiling fondly as the sun's first rays made the berries glow a faint red against the white tuffs of her on her cheeks. "Beautiful isn't it?" Iona nodded her head as her ears flicked forward in curiousity. "These are the largest snowberry trees in all of Skyrim. I was barely the size of a skeever when Da showed them to me," Ulfric sighed as his eyes filled with the fond memory.
"I'm assuming there is more to this tale?"
"Hehe. Indeed" he chuckled regarding her," Da told me that these frozen red berries were the crystallized blood of our forebears, still solid, still real, still here, standing against the snow of Skyrim." He carefully snapped a small bunch from the tree. And Iona cocked one ear to the side confused then flinched when he reached towards her face only to feel his large hand brush against her cheek and he placed the small bustle in to her hair just above her ear. To Ulfric's surprise the snowberries seemed to enhance the tiny Khajiit's beauty.
Dovahkiin...why? Why do I feel like this? He thought a faint blush formed on his cheeks, I'm a foolish boy! I have no time for the feelings of a foolish boy and yet... And she was so beautiful...so very soft. The sun's rays enhancing the colors of her silky fur, its rays caught in her raven hair. Even her shimmering turquoise eyes seemed to be drawing him in. Inviting him.
His body moved on it's own as he rested his hand on her shoulder, his thumb gentling caressing her neck. Iona gazed into the Nord's sudden almost affectionate eyes finding herself unable to look away. What was this feeling? His hand then tilted her chin upwards stunned at how little she was resisting, brought his lips to hers and kissed her.
As their lips parted, Iona and Ulfric gazed into each other's eyes both blushing faintly in a trance like state. His eyes...the color of the storms of his surname, eyes that would have at once frightened her now held her captive. "Enough of this!" He snapped irritated and quickly turned away from her, his composure returning. "The men will be looking for you and Ralof to lead them. There is a war to fight," he said coldly as he glanced over his shoulder eyeing her as she blinked in surprise then nodded her feline head sadly.
"...yes...my Jarl" she replied confused by his strange behaviour.
Why are you angry? She wondered as she followed him, her gaze fixated on his back. Soon another thought invaded her thoughts. Was it that embarrassing for a Nord to be with a Khajiit? "I'm a fool to think you'll ever see me as anything other than a cat. Ice-Veins, Bonebreaker...or Dovahkiin..." She whispered low so he wouldn't hear her.
All were just empty titles to her...
As the camp came into view, Ulfric was lost in his thoughts until he found himself thinking about the kiss, and he frowned at himself. He inhaled the cold air trying to keep his mind on his men and his country, not on some boyish fantasies. But her soft lips and beautiful eyes continued to cloud his mind.
It was the tugging on his hand that made him stop. He turned slightly to see the Cat was holding his hand, a sad light in her eyes. Taking a sad breath, Iona plucked the snowberries from her raven hair. I get it, Jarl of Windhelm. No matter how I bleed for your cause...a cause my own heart shares for its own reasons, my blood will never be enough, she thought, for my blood is not the blood of the Children of the Sky... To every noble she had served, she was still the same: Iona the Branded. And thus she'd remain, Khajiit, Cat, Rug, and Sneak thief. It was alright though. All someone like her needed was to know where she stood. Her blood mattered not and yet she'd still bleed for him all the same.
Worry not my Jarl, her eyes said as she placed the tiny branch into his open palm, my blood will be on the next battlefield, though it may never be enough, it will be there.
Iona sighed her tail drooping along with her ears, and continued on ahead towards the camp leaving Ulfric standing in the snow watching her back. Once she had disappeared into a large tent where Ralof was waiting for her, the Bear of Markarth lowered his gaze to the blood-frozen berries in his hand and he frowned disappointed in himself. Dovahkiin...Iona...it is not like that. No, thats not...it is...used to be. But then there's you.
"I knew something had changed when Ralof brought you back from Whiterun, bleeding in my throneroom, the fire of your own Voice still burning your throat." He gently wrapped his calloused hand around the tiny berry filled glancing up at the tent fainting hearing her relaying his orders to their fellow brothers and sisters in arms, "I'd never felt such kinship for someone before in my life. You fought your first Jarl...your first benefactor in a strange land to save one of my men. Like I had, you'd used the power of the voice against one of your own. Like I had, you'd committed a great sin for a greater cause."
He cleared his throat silently and walked in to the camp to untie his horse. Approaching Gyllir he untethered his reins and climbed into the saddle. Walking behind the tent, Ulfric glanced at it.
In the beginning, your hatred for a common enemy was enough for me. Your skill was needed. When I found out YOU were the Dragonborne called from High Hrothgar to save my land, you became indispensable...he thought, after Whiterun, after I bandaged your wounds, because I alone knew how such wounds felt, you became something more. Ulfric nudged Gyllir and the creature trotted out a secret path in the dense forest behind the camp.
He brought his horse to a halt and they both turned their heads towards the now very distant camp. "I'm sorry Iona. You'll never hear it from men, but I'm sorry" he sighed then rode off back to Windhelm.
I will find a way to show you that your blood is enough...that it has always been enough. I was just a fool to believe otherwise...
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