[b]Super late collab between Cairo and I. The blame is mine, but here it is.[/b]

[i]The previous night...[/i]

Dragging the dwemer weapon held in his left hand, the khajiit finally lifted up his head when he stopped sulking about the ridiculous scenario that happened prior with the mother deer. His feet eventually led him to the makeshift arena. Usually, he wasn't the one to receive much thrill in watching opponents beat and potentially maim one another, but it was a way to kill time or distract one's mind. Slinging the weapon over his shoulder, he walked inside the arena as said weapon rested on his back.

A pretty decent place, after wandering inside he managed to find the seats to watch the competitors attempt their best at the events. As his eyes scanned each competitor, Qara'Sion spotted Wets-His-Blade among them easily. The khajiit shook his head with a bit of a grin. "Not surprised this one would take part in this." He thought to himself. 

Blade took care of his competition mostly with no trouble minus a few slip ups, but the khajiit once again wasn't surprised. However he did wish he knew prior that the argonian was entering, as Qara'Sion could have made money off of him. What did surprise him a bit was recalling the memory of how he took out Blade's captor awhile ago, which forced an even bigger grin on his face. 

After the bouts ended, Qara'Sion made the decision to go and find the argonian for a simple chat and congrats. It didn't take long to find him as he simply asked one of the maids for his whereabouts. The khajiit approached him; arms crossed in front. "Looks like somebody had a fun day today."
Blade was busy returning the attentions of the amorous argonian maid on his shoulder when he heard the familiar voice. Glancing over at its source, a grin broke out on his own face.
"Ah! Qara'Sion, in all the excitement I guess I forgot to say hello to anyone from your group. Just a moment."

Blade turned back to the female and whispered something that made her giggle before wandering off. The big argonian waved Qara'Sion forward then. 
"Come, I'm hungry and thirsty."

As he began to lead the way through the camp, Blade would occasionally wave to a fan or opponent who recognized him from the arena while he headed for the rudimentary tavern he knew had been built. Qara'Sion half-smirked as he watched Blade wave. "Show off." The khajiit simply thought to himself as he followed.

"So," he started as he directed his attention to his furry friend, "I assume you got that stick of yours working. I could hear the cracks in the distance. You didn't happen to shoot Zaveed In his uptight ass did you?"

Hearing that Blade must have had some kind of long range hearing to hear the shots from the dwemer weapon, the khajiit mentally sighed from the memory. Although his comment about Zaveed kept the smirk on his face. "Sounds like someone's a bit jealous his fighting style isn't as refined. Even though your "stick'em with the pointy end" tactic is decent enough." He taunted. "And as you heard surprisingly, my sibling and her friends managed to fix the bloody thing in enough shape to work. It took a bit of time when they kept having last minute notices that something wasn't as it should've looked."

Blade considered how friendly he was being. He hadn't acted in such a familiar fashion with anybody for... Well he couldn't remember the last time really. Part of his chipper mood could be attributed to the friendly competition of the tournament. It had actually felt good to get some exercise without the risk of being gutted and without having to gut anybody else. But he realized that it was also in part because he considered the khajiit a friend along with the rest of their group. He had conflicting emotions regarding this minor revelation.

Qara'Sion shook his head before lightly tapping Blade on his shoulder. "Had I known you would be fighting in the arena, I probably could've made a bit of extra gold to support the group." The khajiit then picked up the pace a bit, walking ahead of Blade but turned his head to the argonian. "It's nice knowing the mer I conveniently rescued awhile back would come in handy." He recalled the memory of the bandit cave. The khajiit normally wouldn't be the one to "poke the bear" but Blade would know he was only teasing. Partially. If anything he would just snap his fingers, and quietly but quickly walk away. But just in case...

"If you're in the mood for it, I'll treat you to A bottle at the tavern as a congrats to your victory." Qara'Sion offered. Putting alot of emphasis on the single "A". If they were going to drink, then Qara'Sion preferred not to have a hand in the potential future bar brawl like what happened on the Sea Wisp.

Blade threw his head back and gave a bark of laughter,
"Jealous? Of Zaveed? Fighting? Qara'Sion please, the scar on my gut still hurts when I laugh too hard. Don't get me wrong, he's good. But the only reason you never see me use a bit of finesse is because I rarely need to."
He gave a wolfish grin,
"And it's not as fun."

Blade pushed aside the tent flap of the makeshift tavern as he and his partner neared it. The sound of merry and inebriated conversation flooded the dimly lit shelter, along with the staggering scent of sweaty men and alcohol, which was only exacerbated by the humid confines.
While the humidity was a welcome feeling to his cold blooded physiology, the scent, or taste rather, was truly torturous to his sensitive forked tongue. He stoically marched on however. He'd grown accustomed to horrid tasting air, having spent plenty of time around blood soaked battle grounds.

He made his way to a, surprisingly, open table that was just large enough for the two mer. Some of the crowd respectfully made some room for them to pass as they recognized the argonian from the arena, offering nods of recognition. Blade pulled up a stool and sat down, crossed arms resting on the table top. Qara'Sion did the same, putting down the dwemer weapon to rest on the side of the table, propping his elbow on the table as he held up his head to rest on his palm.

Blade rolled his eyes as the two settled in.
"You're never going to let me forget that cave are you? I guess I should be the one offering you a drink. Careful though, stick with me long enough and you'll end up owing me a lot more than just one." The khajiit gave a bit of a chuckle hearing his response. "Never shall this one forget. But do not worry, I'll make sure you don't either." Winking out of his blue eye, smiling.

The lizard nodded a thank you to the tavern girl as she dropped two mugs of mead onto the table. He drank deeply of the strong liquid and gave a contented sigh as he finished, cup half empty. Qara'Sion slowly gulped down his own cup. Mead wasn't his favorite to drink... but it was decent enough.

"You know, we've been so busy running and killing across the country, that I've never really had a chance to get to know any of you. Granted, at first I didn't really care to honestly. But tell me, how does one such as you end up fighting in a war? You don't really strike me as the 'let's go kill lots of people because reasons' type. Why are you here?"

The khajiit froze up for a second before placing the cup down on the table. Blade did bring up a very good question that he never thought about deeply before. He put on a pondering expression on his face before reaching around to the back of his mane, pulling the string to untie it. He payed attention to how long his mane really was as the ends of it was passed the seat he was sitting on.

Of course, this was just a distraction to buy him time to answer Blade's question. Why was he fighting in this war? There was really no plan for revenge, he wasn't a soldier or one of the heroes, so there was no duty or obligation for him to fight. And it wasn't as if his presence in the fighting would be the decisive factor for the outcome as someone else could easily take his place. So... why was he getting involved? He just happened to be a survivor of the imperial city incident, and if it wasn't for Mufasa returning into his life, he probably wouldn't have taken up arms in the chorrol mission.

So... why was he here?

Another gulp from his cup. He flaunted his lion like mane before returning his attention back to Blade, crossing his arms and legs as he leaned back a bit. "I could ask the same of you in a sense. You were a gladiator correct? It's not as though you have to fight do you?" He answered. Maybe Blade's answer would spark a thought in the khajiit's head.

Blade took another gulp of his drink as he waited for the khajiit's reply, who was stalled by fidgeting with his mane like a woman. Admittedly, it was a fairly impressive one. But instead of an answer, the argonian received a question instead.

"Yes," he said as he nodded an affirmative, "I was a gladiator of the Capitol arena. And no, don't have to fight. I want to. Though not for my country, or a religion, or any man or mer. I put no stock in such things. What does it matter if the dwemer take the country? Would their rule be any worse than another government? Who can say? All I know is that governments rarely care for their populace anyway and they are all shitty to some degree. The Emperor would not lay his life on the line for anyone, so. Why should I lay mine down for his? Why should anybody do so for any king? Were all just walking coin purses to the likes of them. I'm here because fighting is all I know."
Blade chuckled briefly as he considered his sole other work experience.
"Well, that and..."

He twitched as his train of thought brought the eight year old memory of the Windhelm docks crashing down on the merry atmosphere as he became acutely aware of the scar crossing his brow and down his cheek. His features hardened and he could feel his rage build like dark storm clouds over a thrashing sea. He growled and stared intently at the table in front of him. If looks could kill, the table would have exploded.

"Never mind."

Qara'Sion listened and watched intently as Blade spoke. Primarily, fighting was the only thing he knew how to do; another reason as to why Qara'Sion questioned his own presence here. He could fight, he could kill, but he could do more than just that, he knew he could. He wasn't willing to die on the battlefield like a unsung hero. Especially when there was something out there to still take care of and that was to resolve his past and find his own happiness to keep living. 

He wasn't going to stay in the fight for much longer. It was becoming clearer to him that that might be the correct choice. The others were willing to dance with death, and he wasn't. For years he's had to, and it was getting tiring, even more so with it practically resting on his shoulders thanks to current events.

The growl from Blade gave the khajiit an indication he was going to say something that bothered him. Half-smirking, he pushed Blade's cup towards him, lifting up his own. "Come, drink a bit. We're supposed to be celebrating your victory as well as a time of rest! And with such a scary face like that, I doubt any ladies here would approach it." Qara'Sion chuckled as he drank again. "But...it isn't like you to hesitate. If you want to say it, go ahead, if not, then don't." He did want to know what Blade was going to say, but his demeanor killed the curiosity.

"I'd rather not," Blade grumbled before downing the rest of his drink.
"No offense, but bad memories and alcohol are a volatile mixture. Maybe some other time."

The argonian chuckled and smirked then, pushing the memory aside.
"But I'll have you know, the ladies don't approach me to get a good look at my face."

He briefly flagged down the barmaid for another drink during the insinuating pause then turned back to the khajiit.
"Enough about me. You still haven't answered my question. What are you doing here Qara'Sion? You have a family, so why risk death when you could go live in peace with them?"

Qara'Sion could only laugh a bit at Blade's response to him. "I wholeheartedly agree with you, I doubt such a non-intimidating, scary, blood covered face would have much trouble bringing in a woman to it. Just saying." The khajiit said with a shrug and another drink from his glass, setting it back down on the table. Then Blade's next sentence struck home. The words that struck to his mind the argonian said specifically were "You have a family". 

His ears folded back like an angry house cat. But his facial expression didn't show said anger. He finished his drink immediately to buy him more time to think and after a cough or two, he looked back at the argonian. "Eh, I do what i want when I feel like it, whether I appear or not appear to be quite the fighter I can hold my own. I'm just here to help our allies stay alive. No other reason." He stated. Thinking on it now, his sentence might have been a bit confusing, maybe due to the mead, but there was nothing to be done since it already left his mouth. Qara'Sion wanted to divert the subject in any way possible, even if it was a slow transition due to being confusing. But he couldn't ignore Blade's words. If he was stabbed in the heart, it would hurt less than the argonian's words.

"You have a family."

He paused for a moment... he wanted to ignore his own problem, potentially making Blade angry would be a better feeling to him than thinking of his own past. He wanted to resolve it before his potential demise in the war, but now was not the time for him to want to focus on his past.

"....Awww, this one doesn't want to have a heart-to-heart moment with Sion?" The khajiit laughed forcefully. "Don't be so difficult, after all, It's rather polite to tell your own story to the person who saved you." He laughed once again, all the while flaunting his mane like a haughty woman. He didn't care, he would rather Blade be upset with him than think about the thoughts he was trying to push away, even if he trusted him. "But please, call me Sion. I would prefer that since we've known each other for quite a bit."

Blade didn't notice the khajiit's subtle tic or change in mood at the mention of his family. He just nodded in agreement as Qara'Sion gave his reasons, interjecting briefly to say, "As good a reason as any."

He was drinking from a fresh mug when the khajiit again pressed him about his own past, and his brows furrowed as he drank deeply. Withdrawing from the tankards depths, he just gazed at his stuttering reflection contemplatively. 

A minute passed before Blade set the cup down and he unconsciously ran a finger down the length of the scar on his cheek.
"There's not much to tell really. For the past- what's it been now? Eight years I think, I've been living off my skills as a fighter. Day in and day out, at the Arena or for the Fighters Guild, I've been killing for coin. But before that I was just a laborer. I loaded cargo with my brother at the Windhelm docks up in Skyrim. It's a miserable place for anybody, doubly so for us argonians. Cold blood and all. Anyway, we'd both worked those docks since we were children to make a living our mother died of malnutrition when we were young. That was the only place the Nords would allow us to work. They weren't too keen on anyone other than humans being in their hold, so they reserved the best jobs and homes for their own, and payed the both of us only a couple septims for the whole day. That is, a couple septims split between us. It was hard work, but we managed to scrape by."

Blade suddenly burst out laughing.
"You may not believe it, but I wasn't always like this. Back then I did my best to avoid confrontation. Accommodating. Submissive."
He practically spat out the last word.
"I was content to eke out a living and keep my head low. Content to fight the dock rats for scraps of moldy bread. It's all I thought I could ever achieve. Living there, it's all I thought I deserved. But not my brother. He was a troublesome one. Thorn-In-Scale knew we were being treated unfairly. We both did but he was the only one who wanted to do anything about it. Petty vandalism, stealing cargo. He did what he could in secret to get back at the Nords and I did what I could to keep us out of trouble."

Blade's jaw clenched during the pause that followed. He took another deep drink of mead before continuing.
"It was only a matter of time though before he was caught for something. I don't even know if he did do anything. The Nords suspected him, so maybe they just came up with their own reason, not that it matters."

The argonian's arms and shoulders visibly tensed as a scowl crossed his face while he spoke.
"One day I arrived at the docks just in time to see the guards behead my brother."

There was a creak and then a crunch as the wood mug began to splinter in Blade's clenched hands. The noise seemed to snap him out of his reverie. He pushed the leaking tankard aside.
"Well, needless to say I was rather upset. And you know how I get when I'm upset. Then I fled Skyrim and eventually ended up in Cyrodiil. Entered the games since I was pissed off and didn't care weather I lived or died. And found out I was good at fighting. Killing. Been doing it ever since."

The argonian began to pick splinters from between the scales of his fingers and said flatly,
"That was a bit more in depth then I had intended to go."

He froze up for a moment as Blade told his story. He really didn't expect him to actually tell anything, and he did. A bit of guilt remained in the khajiit's thoughts. Shaking his head slowly, he spoke once again. "My apologies, didn't think you would actually say anything."

Qara'Sion immediately raised his cup again, holding it up to the argonian. "Let's just do what we came here to do and celebrate. Cheers to your victory, Wets-His-Blade."

"Aye," Blade responded absently, his eyes focused intently on something in the distance only he could see.
"To victory..."
...for whatever that's worth.