Begrudgingly, the Nord was right. Faire was being a idiot for wandering about late at night without her wits about her. Ending up in this predicament was result of that. But Faire had to admit, all of this did seem a bit unusual. Although she had some close encounters previously, she never blatantly compromised her security like walking right into view of a large camp. The other odd thing was this camp. A non-volatile mixture of races that weren't at each other's throats? Faire hasn't been a part of this new world for very long but she knew enough that Nords typically hated elves, and Khajiit and Arogians did not mix well. And what was up with that man who nearly killed her? This Nord tells her that they aren't a vicious group but that "thing" is allowed among the group? He or it, Faire hasn't decided on which, just gave off a malicious aura and she wasn't just saying that because he almost killed her. Everything about this seemed like it was meant to happen. Curse Auri-El and this situation all together.

The Nord removed Faire's belt to fully disarm her, but also took the opportunity to remove her hood revealing Faire's white locks, a calling card to help identify what race she truly belonged to. The Nord also took a gander at her Falmer dagger, which stood the test of time alongside Faire. Various chips and scars marked the blade signifying great age but Faire had none of that. Her skin remained flawless. The Nord took a long look at Faire, trying to wrap his lesser Nordic mind around the question of Who. 

Faire opened her mouth, about to respond, before the death dealer chimed in. He, too, leaned in an examined the captive. His dialogue was riddled with arrogance, and all he really did was made Faire feel even worse about this. She hated him, whatever he was.

Again Faire was prepared to respond but the Argonian, who Faire shot earlier, finally spoke up. He had been eyeing her in silence for this whole time but finally added his piece. Much to Faire's dismay, the Argonian was educated, much like a mage should be, and he managed to deduce what Faire was even without a precedent specimen to examine beforehand. After all, how would one know what a Snow Elf looked like outside of a very few academic books. 

Faire watched the Argonian fiddle with the hole in his shirt. She felt relieved that he healed his wound, as did not want death for the Argonian, but now there was an issue of Faire's identity. It was very likely this group could sell Faire to the right buyer and not even look back for the amount of gold they would receive. Enslavement or anything like it, was not something Faire wanted. "You wager blindly, Argonian. The Falmer you speak of are dead. In there place, purple husks crawl about the underworld." Her steaming anger was now exchanged for a frown and brief expression of sorrow. "I am but an Altmer, hiding from the cruel racism of the Nords." She shot a glance to the Nord and scowled before turning back to the Argonian. "You have no proof otherwise.." Her tone changed to a feigned innocence.