[h3][center][color=OliveDrab]Verena[/color][/center][/h3]
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[i]"Little doveling. Do you believe that your knight here is clever enough to unmake the walls that hold us? Do you think that his tongue can turn the lock?"[/i] Verena hadn’t the chance to form a sentence so caught off guard was she by the visage of the wild Nord woman, not that the woman was unattractive, it was the mere intensity of her appearance that Verena could do nothing but gawk, though Isai came to her rescue with a proper introduction behest himself, of which she was readily grateful. Unlike Isai, Verena didn’t have as quick a wit. She preferred to look on in silence, taking note of the body language of those around her, interjecting when appropriate, and she relied on it now.

[i]“Hm? Esquire of Cheydinhal actually, my lady, though I appreciate your estimation of my station. Isai Tegulatoris Sutris-Armaseptus da Leyawiin, Esquire. Alas, the gods permit me only to be but of the landed gentry before the peerage, and my tongue to turn naught but opinion, pleasure, and tied cherry stems.”[/i]

Isai had bowed as properly and respectfully as he could given the space in the cramped cell, [i]“Though speaking of pleasure, it is mine to make your acquaintance, dear lady…?”[/i]

The massive Khajiit suddenly interjected, leaving Verena to gaze up at him in mortification, not because she was afraid of him, rather because of the sudden invasion of space. Though, given their cramped quarters and the Khajiit’s hulking figure, perhaps he did not mean to be intimidating.

[i]"This one... It flirts with the witch-woman? Kiffar thinks she will eat you, too, but her way will be much less fun than yours. Scoot, scoot, fancy man-thing. Kiffar will sit here, and the man thing will be scooted or be a cushion. Treefling! Darmon-Thing! Come, come, sit with Kiffar, tell him of why the many manthings and elfthings are here, while we watch the fancy one be eaten by the witch-woman."[/i]

Having been jostled out of the way alongside Isai to make room for the orange and black striped Khajiit who identified himself as Kiffar, Verena quickly retracted her previous line of thinking. Her nose wrinkled in confusion, what purpose did his words serve? Did he mistake Isai’s words for flirting? 

Verena dwelled on this for a few moments her eyes fixated upon the ground beneath her slippers as she clutched her woolen cloak to her chest, [i]'...my tongue turn naught but opinion, pleasure, and tied cherry stems…'[/i]. Isai’s knack for conversation allowed him to indulge a wide manner of subjects, and he held an array of points of view. And he did indeed enjoy a good bottle of wine, music, dance, and all other forms of entertainment. She smiled softly to herself, her eyes flickering to Isai at the memory of him showing her how to tie cherry stems. After all, she had burdened him with the question after having an Imperial man approach her with a rather set of curious words. Almost a year ago now actually, something to the effect of, “A pretty thing like you ought to let me show you how well I can tie the stems of cherries.” 

Of course at the time, Verena had declined the Imperial’s offer, thinking his suggestion rather dull and boring. Why would she want to do such a thing? When she came to Isai regarding the matter, he told her of a cherry stem tying contest he had once won and insisted he show her the skill, just in case such a challenge arose again. They had gone to the market and purchased a basket full of cherries, they then sat in the meadow while Isai taught her the trick the man had spoken of. Her mouth certainly was sore and her tongue ached, and she thought the trick even more foolish, like skipping rocks on the water. Though skipping rocks she found more pleasure in.

[i]'...the man thing will be scooted or be a cushion…'[/i] Kiffar’s words repeated in her mind as she found herself frowning inward at the jest of Isai being sat upon. A kind of word could have been uttered instead, surely? Surely. 

Her attention snapped back to the wild woman, the hair on her forearms stood on end, and an eerie sensation washed over her. Had she missed something when lost in thought?

[i]"I could eat him,"[/i] She addressed Kiffar as he had found his seat upon the ground after all. [i]"He is well spiced, don't you think?"[/i] The woman sniffed at Isai, and then grinned wide. [i]"Marinated in his importance. Sweetened just so with his honeyed words... Something foul in his belly from the ceiling."[/i] 

For the wild woman, Verena felt as if her words were uttered in a more playful jest, and she couldn’t help but to smile softly. There was a peculiar familiarity to her words, having reminded her of Marius and Steffan, when they used to try and frighten her in the dark, a teasing play on words.

Then came the Bosmer, placing herself between Kiffar seated on the ground and Isai, effectively forcing Verena farther out of the way. All the while Verena still had yet to have a word in edgewise as this continual flow of interruptions into the matter with Isai carried on. 

[i]“This prey is beneath you,”[/i] The Bosmer woman began, [i]“A better hunt could be had crushing bugs under our feet,”[/i] the Bosmer flashed a feral smile at Isaii. [i]“We shall soon be rid of this place, and have our pick of prizes yet again. A wolf does not stay caged for long. This pest is not worth the effort.”[/i]

[i]"Ma'am, I'd greatly appreciate it if you didn't terrorize that man any more than you have to."[/i] Caddach deadpanned in her direction. [i]"It smells bad enough in here as it is; we don't need to make it any worse by adding something wet and brown to the inside of his trousers."[/i]

Oh surely this was too much. Verena’s headached from the overflowing activity and rabble of words that filled the cell, a cacophony of sound that made her temples throb.

This now felt like off-handed beratement towards Isai, and it made her heart clench at the mere sound of their words. And for what? What had he done to elicit such a targeted response? She would pay none of them any mind, it wasn’t worth the effort. They were all strangers crammed into this cell, and it seemed that they had latched onto her dear friend for wanton enjoyment. No one wanted to be here, and they were more or less victims of circumstance as a result of the riot.

The Khajiit had accused him of flirting with the wild woman, the Bosmer woman stated that Isai was no more than a pest and prey at that, and the young Breton man implied that Isai could be easily frightened to the point of defecating in his pants. Despite the wild woman’s remarks at eating Isai, at least she did not mock him. Teasing, surely. But not mocking.

Perhaps it was Verena’s soft heart that made her feel such things. Her mother’s jabs and jeers at her throughout her childhood had effectively chipped away at Verena’s self-esteem, leaving her with the penchant to avoid discourse, or making anyone feel lesser unless truly deserved, and even then, it hurt her to say a negative word. 

Isai had taken a chance with her. He had given her a chance for a better life, to not end up like her mother, impoverished and ill from drink. She could do better. She [i]would[/i] do better. A kind word went a long way, and it was that way in which she had kept her employment with Isai for as long as she did. Not once had he ever spoken to her poorly in nature. 

[i]...Insufferable little brat… you are naught but a sniveling wretch, born of my own flesh yet twice the burden![/i]

[i]...Had you been left upon the riverbank, even the fish would spurn you![/i]

[i]...I have seen dung heaps with more promise than thee, and they at least do serve the soil![/i]

[i]...A duller wit ne'er graced this earth, and yet you call me 'Mother' as if 'twere a blessing![/i]

She inhaled softly, shaking the echoes of her mother’s ridicule from her head. 

“Pardon me…” Verena said quietly, her voice soft and warm, like that of honey stirred in with hot brandy. She shifted her body so as not to jostle anyone uncouthly, moving in between the Bosmer and Isai, angling her body just so in a subconscious manner to act as a barrier.

Her pale green eyes swept over the wild woman, and wild she was indeed. It was almost inspiring to see such a woman. A subtle blush came to her cheeks before she dragged her gaze to Isai, commenting in that same warm tone, “I keep my faith in you, Isai.”

“You have seen us through the most unusual quarries. Perhaps when we leave this place, I would make us both some eidar cap.” She mused more to herself than anyone else.