Cyrendil watched the road quietly his sharp features turned from the burning village behind him as he gazed at the downward slope, covered in a soft sheet of snow where the boots of them men who came up it hadn't crushed it into the soil. His arms crossed about his chest.
He enjoyed the silence, it added to the weight of what had just happened. And silence was always preferable to mindless chortling like they had come from a fight in the Imperial Arena. Blood had been spilled, some innocent. Most not. But blood did stain the inside of the hamlet. Bight crimson on white snow.
Then the Orsimer had to break the silence, as if this was simply part of a routine. Cyrendil did not turn to him, but kept his eyes at the road. He had contemplated for a moment, of simply letting the Orsimer talk until he either shut himself up, or wait until he got bored and tromped away. But could not help himself to at least say something. "Orsimer, like all prisoners will tell you. I was innocent and did nothing wrong."
Cyrendil's face was plain as if it was cast in stone as he spoke, his voice while stoic was still very much Altmer. Somewhat haughty but mostly lyrical. "I killed a Daedra loving Witch. Ran her through with my blade, then carried her corpse outside and threw it into the snow. A reminder that the Vigil is always watching. They had the gall to call me a murderer."
His face scrunched up as he scowled his next words were laced with venom "She was dead the moment she struck a deal with the Daedra. Filthy witch deserved something more public, but I found myself in a rush. They called her innocent, the fools. And as for temper? I was as calm as when I ate my breakfast that morning. There was only a feeling of relief, at the removal of another monster."
Turning to look at the Orc, his golden hair, and the majority of his face shadowed by the Travelers hood wore a placid expression as he glanced at him. "Mages are the worst of them. I think you'll agree on that, first they conjure an Atronach. Think it's fun maybe keep it as a pet, then they wonder if they could make a corpse dance, and soon they imagine themselves at the head of a conjured army at their own command." Cyrendil cast a harsh glare towards Kiralla "And in that need to push every edge, they bargain with powers that are not friends, that cannot be controlled, and that only Lord over the ones seeking foolish power. They are like children trying to swing their fathers sword."
And as his words ended he looked back out towards the road, quietly again watching the snow when he heard Brynn start to speak, asking how they were going to play all nice and asking for names before then insulting the large Orsimer. His eyes scanned the sky for a moment, the only telling was the slight tilt of the hood up. And he wondered how long before one of the children would get into a squabble where they bleed each-other like idiots. "Cyrendil." He said quickly and to the point before quieting again and still eying the long road ahead of them.
He enjoyed the silence, it added to the weight of what had just happened. And silence was always preferable to mindless chortling like they had come from a fight in the Imperial Arena. Blood had been spilled, some innocent. Most not. But blood did stain the inside of the hamlet. Bight crimson on white snow.
Then the Orsimer had to break the silence, as if this was simply part of a routine. Cyrendil did not turn to him, but kept his eyes at the road. He had contemplated for a moment, of simply letting the Orsimer talk until he either shut himself up, or wait until he got bored and tromped away. But could not help himself to at least say something. "Orsimer, like all prisoners will tell you. I was innocent and did nothing wrong."
Cyrendil's face was plain as if it was cast in stone as he spoke, his voice while stoic was still very much Altmer. Somewhat haughty but mostly lyrical. "I killed a Daedra loving Witch. Ran her through with my blade, then carried her corpse outside and threw it into the snow. A reminder that the Vigil is always watching. They had the gall to call me a murderer."
His face scrunched up as he scowled his next words were laced with venom "She was dead the moment she struck a deal with the Daedra. Filthy witch deserved something more public, but I found myself in a rush. They called her innocent, the fools. And as for temper? I was as calm as when I ate my breakfast that morning. There was only a feeling of relief, at the removal of another monster."
Turning to look at the Orc, his golden hair, and the majority of his face shadowed by the Travelers hood wore a placid expression as he glanced at him. "Mages are the worst of them. I think you'll agree on that, first they conjure an Atronach. Think it's fun maybe keep it as a pet, then they wonder if they could make a corpse dance, and soon they imagine themselves at the head of a conjured army at their own command." Cyrendil cast a harsh glare towards Kiralla "And in that need to push every edge, they bargain with powers that are not friends, that cannot be controlled, and that only Lord over the ones seeking foolish power. They are like children trying to swing their fathers sword."
And as his words ended he looked back out towards the road, quietly again watching the snow when he heard Brynn start to speak, asking how they were going to play all nice and asking for names before then insulting the large Orsimer. His eyes scanned the sky for a moment, the only telling was the slight tilt of the hood up. And he wondered how long before one of the children would get into a squabble where they bleed each-other like idiots. "Cyrendil." He said quickly and to the point before quieting again and still eying the long road ahead of them.
