Greenie

Persistent Characters vs "One-and-Done" Characters

Despite creating new characters, I do have a (bad?) habit of tweaking and reusing characters from different failed roleplays. I guess for me it's the effort I put in creating and making the sheet- it feels a little sad not giving my babies ^^; another chance to thrive. My currently most active roleplay has a character I first created back in 2013 who I've consistently tweaked and changed with every version until, well, she's no longer the same, at all, save for her name and looks. ^^;

I don't find it cheap to reuse characters, especially if you never got to use them properly in the past. But I also don't find a person a 'bad' roleplayer if they simply scrap 'failed' characters and create news ones. ^_^ To each their own, as long as you're having fun!

The Elder Scrolls: Vengeance of the Deep

A Good Time with a Girl

by Shafty and Greenie

---

17th of Midyear, Sunset

The events of the prison along with travelling had exhausted Meg. She had been adamant on not taking it easy as she had when she'd left Gilane and ridden in the wagon, but by the time the group had reached the tent village, the intoxicating enthusiasm had her wishing she hadn't pushed herself so much. Despite the excitement in the air, the music, dancing, and most of all the scent of the delicious food, the Nord woman found herself having to fight off sleep, her head slumping and jerking back to wakefulness more than once.

It was probably best to rest... but she didn't want to. The evening almost reminded her of New Life Festival, and she wanted to take in as much as she could. Rubbing her eyes as hard as she could, she wandered about until she finally caught sight of a barrel of water meant for drinking. Unable to stop herself, she grabbed the ladle that was meant to dispense water into cups and instead dumped a couple of ladle full over her head, hoping the shock would induce wakefulness. Perhaps it did, but what had her up and stepping back was a rather miffed woman who scolded her tremendously before shooing the Nord away.

"Sorry!" Meg continued to call out sheepishly until she was safely out of the woman’s sight. Letting out a huff, both embarrassed but feeling somewhat better and alert, she was pleased to see she'd found her way at an entertainment she actually found interesting enough. Grinning and completely uncaring that her hair was still wet as well as parts of her shirt, she leaned forward eagerly, eyes following the sword fighters.

She might have felt a shadow fall over her, a shirtless figure of large stature with dark skin, his scarf wrapped about his head in the Redguard style. He sipped at his water, watching the spar, seeing if he could tell either the man or the woman would be able to boot his pompous brother’s face in the dirt. Sevari looked sidelong at the seemingly attractive woman next to him, utterly dwarfed by him. Parts of her shirt clung to her toned and slender midsection and the view commanded his eyes to look. Had it really been that long for him? That he would just stare like some boy. Even so, maybe she’d be receptive to a good ti- that was Meg. That was Jaraleet’s woman, he chided himself as recognition gripped him. He then shuffled a bit away from her, hoping she didn’t notice his eyes on her. He tried at some conversation, remembering what his brother had said about integrating.

“Are… you well?” He asked lamely, still looking sidelong at her. “I haven’t talked to you since…”

Meg jerked at the sound of the voice- despite being a sneaky thing herself, she hadn't actually noticed the man standing next to her until he spoke up, much too engrossed in the show taking place before her, now that she was wide awake. Green eyes immediately swerved to look to her side... and then up, blinking in recognition when they landed on the familiar face- it wasn't as if she knew too many Ohmes-Raht. "Oh! Uhm, Sevari!" She sounded rather shocked that he of people would be here. Casting a glance about to see if perhaps Latro or Jaraleet were about, she came to the quick conclusion that no, she was the sole member of their group at this particular place. Well, not anymore, he was clearly part of their group since Gilane. At least, in her opinion. She knew there had been some fuss about his disappearance, but really... it wasn't as if people purposely allowed themselves to be capture, right?

Still... he was intimidating. "I... uhm, I'm well," she replied, sounding equally awkward, even though a part of her was actually a little pleased. If he was asking if she was well, that had to mean he didn't hate her, right? "Thankies! Uh... think we ain' talked since Jaraleet got hurt..." She scratched at the back of her head, fiddling with the small locks of hair, guilty expression as clear as day. "Uh or was it when we were plannin' on savin' Sora...?" She pursed her lips a little, finger tapping her chin as she tried to recall. "Oh, uhm, how're you? Shudda pro'ly asked ya that myself, eh?" She let out a small sheepish laugh; clearly her brain was a little fuzzy even without alcohol.

“Ah, that’s… good.” Sevari cleared his throat of nothing and shuffled in place. He took a long sip of his water since his mouth wasn’t set on doing anything else, it seemed. Finally, he spoke, “I’m glad, you know.”

He let that hang in the air and realized she wouldn’t know what the hell he was talking about, “Jaraleet. I assume you know what he is.”

"An Argonian?..." As soon as that came out of her mouth, Meg knew her answer was a very stupid one. She face palmed and then rubbed her forehead hard. "Yeah... I know whatchu talkin' 'bout. Gregor tol' me the same... back in Gilane..." Her voice trailed and she looked at the khajiit man curiously, unsure of what he meant. "Yer happy? What 'bout? Er- I mean, it's good yer happy! Jus’ wonderin' what 'bout!"

“He’s…” he said at length, unsure of how to word it in a place like this, out in the open, “He’s from the same world I come from. You don’t love when you come from there. You don’t find love, it doesn’t find you.”

He sighed, chuckled awkwardly, “Anyway, it’s good.” He nodded, “Was he your first?”

He smiled at her, before it dropped and he held a hand up, “First love.”

Meg flushed to such a degree that she could practically feel the heat radiating from her face; she was extremely grateful when Sevari clarified what he meant. "Uhm well... ain' like he said anythin' or I did..." It seemed so strange talking about this with a man she had felt hated her just a few minutes ago, but she was rather flustered and the words just kept coming out. "Not the firs' though. I er- I had someone I liked 'fore, in Skyrim." Her hand fiddled with the amulet of Mara that still rested against her collarbone, and she lifted it up, eyes lowering to look at it. "He was a khajiit, bu' like, he died 'fore I could say anythin'. We used t'go tomb raidin' together."

She breathed out and let the amulet fall against herself, eyes returning to the Ohmes-Raht. "Why- why'd y'say that?" she finally asked, sounding a little off. "Are y'sayin' y'never loved?" It seemed impossible not to at least love someone, no matter what a person may have been involved in.

Sevari almost choked on the mouthful of water he had. He leaned away from Meg, spluttering until he recovered. How she had come to that conclusion was unexpected enough to have him doing that. Albeit, it was a sensitive subject. “I’m not saying that…” he said, his mouth working but nothing coming from it, “I’m saying… I’m saying even when you do find it, you’re forced to make a choice. Love or the job. As for which I’ve picked, been forced to pick…” he threw his arms out in a gesture to where they were, the circumstances they were in, “Well, I wouldn’t be here if I picked the job.”

He frowned, shaking his head, “Even when I thought I found it for good, it just couldn’t be. Her belly was swollen when I left her and I know it wouldn’t do any good to try to see her again.”

A little worried for his life, Meg had hesitantly patted the large man's back with much more force than one may have expected from her, though she did stop once she saw he was somewhat composed. The slight frown remained on her face though. "Isn't that... I mean- pickin' love, isn't tha' worth it?" she asked. She could tell she was intruding in territories that probably shouldn't have been poked about in, especially with this still rather intimidating Khajiit, but she couldn't help herself. If she learned one thing from her misadventures since the Jerell Mountains, it was to seize the moment.

"Why'd ya leave... her?" she continued to ask, though once again she was hesitant. "Didja not love her? Or... somethin' else?" She chewed on her lip for a moment before speaking again, this time rather rushed. "Sorry, don' mean t'pry but, like, if y'think Jaraleet's foun' somethin', then why'd it be diff'rent for ya?"

“Because there’s always consequences for everything.” He breathed, “I left her because there were people who wanted to kill me for making the choice I did. I left her because I chose love, it’s not always a good ending when you pick the right choice. They would’ve killed me and her and the baby.”

He sighed, “I ran away from them because my life never let me make it normal. Even Zaveed, I count the man as my brother and they took me away from him when I was twelve.” He shook his head, “Then turned me into what I am today.”

"That's..." It was hard to find the right words to speak after hearing what Sevari had to say. Meg looked down, mouth downturned and eyes stinging as she thought of the unfairness of such a situation. "How... how could someone jus' take y'away when y'were just a li'l thing..." Head shaking, she clenched her fists. It didn't matter that she didn't know who these 'they' were- it was just wrong. Her thoughts returned to Gilane, to Zahir. Children needed their families, whatever little they had. How cruel was the world where separations like this were forced upon the innocent? Why did the Divines allow such things to happen?

"T'be honest," she finally muttered, still too unsure of her feelings to look away from the ground, "I dunno much 'bout you or whatchu are... I actually thought y'hated me... but y'saved Jaraleet, an' y'helped us with gettin' Sora back. Y'didn' havta but y'did." She finally looked at him, a little pointedly, eyes narrowed though not meanly. "Just 'cause things didn' work b'fore doesn' mean they won' work now though, no?"

As much as Sevari was hopeful Meg was right, he was just as much a realist. A good life was as promised as a long life- not at all. He’d seen men killed over words or wrong looks. Even so, he shrugged, “Maybe.”

He looked into his cup and sighed at Meg’s words, shaking his head, “I never hated you. It’s just that there was more hanging in the balance than just Sora, and even then.” He said, “She was safe under my custody, when I was working under the guise of the Dwemer’s Secret Police. If they caught you, it might have cost you more than just Jaraleet. It might have cost everybody some.”

“So, no. I’m an abrasive man, a violent one, in all honesty. I’ve known little else than killing and robbing and lying for causes great and small.” He nodded his head, frowning, “But I don’t hate you.”

"If ya did, I wouldn' have blamed ya." Meg relaxed her gaze and let it return to the sword fighters instead, though it was clear that she wasn't really paying attention to the feats being performed before the crowd. "I hated me then. 't'was stupid, thinkin' I could just go an' do somethin' by myself like tha'. I cudda gotten Jaraleet killed... cudda ruined things for everyone..." She shrugged her shoulders, letting out a breath. "I wasn' thinkin', I was jus' so... pissed she'd been gone so long an' no one even noticed... or I thought no one did."

She paused a moment before looking up at the Ohmes-Raht yet again. She didn't look intimidated any longer, nor was she; he seemed less scary and more... sad and beaten. Her eyes roamed over the myriad of tattoos, both impressed by the array but also wondering how much it had to have hurt to get them all on his person. After realizing she was staring at the tattoo that depicted a sword through his neck, Meg quickly looked up, meeting the Khajiit’s eyes.

"Can I ask y'somethin'? Why- why'd you decide t'help us?"

Sevari looked away awkwardly, letting Meg stay in her reverie until her eyes began to roam. The question she asked seemed to be on everyone’s mind, so he couldn’t blame her. He rubbed at his neck- or the tattoo on it- and spoke, “I needed people to help me with a task. Latro was the first one I came to and I knew he wouldn’t be able to help me until Sora was safe.” Sevari scratched his stubble, still not able to tell these people absolutely everything. “Latro and Jaraleet are my friends. I decided to help because of that.”

He looked down at himself, glancing over each of his tattoos and smirked, “Never seen a tattoo before?” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder at some mats and tables near a tea maker's tent, “Come, let’s sit. Ever had a good tea before? I can tell you about these things over some.”

"I have seen 'em b’fore," Meg replied, face reddening a little; she guessed he had probably caught her staring. "Jus', not so many? An' like, so many differen' lookin’ ones." The occasional tattoo here and there was normal enough, but Sevari looked like a mural, though not necessarily unpleasant. Awkwardly scratching the back of her still damp head, she did have to admit that the sound of tea sounded very pleasant, and probably a much better way of staying awake than dumping water over herself.

"Well, if yer offerin'..." Her look of embarrassment quickly shifted to one of genuine curiosity, more than willing to listen to the Ohmes-Raht's explanation about his tattoos, and of course, at the possibility of making a new friend.

Sevari nodded, admittedly smiling a bit on the inside. He seldom did this before but spending time in the company of somebody who wasn’t an unrepentant killer was… he liked it. He hadn’t felt like this in quite some time. Not since Ja’Vashara. That tinged his smile with sadness some, but it was the same far away wistfulness as looking out at sunsets.

He spoke to the tea maker and returned to their short table, sitting cross-legged and placing Meg’s tea before her before he sipped from his own. “Honestly, I’ve no damned clue what they put in different teas but I know it’s good.” He chuckled, “I’m sorry if you were expecting a connoisseur. So, point one out.”

He straightened up on his sitting pillow, offering Meg a full view of almost all the tattoos, save for the three-steepled chapel. To be honest, none of his art had been gotten for good reason, but he would be honest with her. Her eyes bade him do so.

Meg couldn't help but chuckle at the Khajiit man's words about the tea, shaking her head. "Oh, ya don' havta worry 'bout that," she told him reassuringly. "I'm more a... well, an ale an' mead sorta gal. Any tea'll be good for me, I'm sure." Saying that, she took a sip, a small hum of satisfaction escaping her as she set the hot drink back down. Lips pursed and eyes narrowed, she allowed herself to peruse the tattoos yet again, eyes falling upon the most easily recognizable one to her. Nodding, she spoke up.

"Talos... does that mean you've been t'Skyrim?" It was easy to hear the hint of excitement in her voice.

“I have.” He smiled a bit, “It was mostly business, though. Not too much sight-seeing but I was all around. I got this there too. I’ve… been a servant of the Empire for some time. It only seems appropriate I find something in their culture I identify with. Another?”

Meg couldn't help but grin, one leg wiggling excitedly as per her habit when she felt happy. It wasn't such a big deal, but she always felt a sense of pride and joy when thinking of her homeland, and especially during these very hot days- it was just nice to know someone else who had been there as well.

"Uhm..." Putting her happiness to the side, her bright eyes were once more resting on the sword tattoo that seemed to pierce Sevari's neck. "Well, what 'bout that one?" she asked, motioning towards his neck with a finger.

“Ah,” his hands went to his neck, rubbing it nervously. He would’ve been apprehensive with anyone else, but Meg’s non-judging eyes held his trepidation from him, “You know what Jaraleet is, Meg, what he does. I was never a peaceful man. This is a symbol in Tamriel’s criminal world. Skooma syndicates look for Colovians with these sorts of markings when they need blood spilled.”

He breathed out a sigh, mind flashing back to things he’d done that at first glance- or hell, even the hundredth- seemed hard to justify that it was all in Imperial service. He sipped at his tea, “Which next?”

In truth, Meg was still mostly unsure of what Jaraleet was before the dwemer attacked. She had her guesses, and there was that which Gregor had insinuated the night of the party... but she didn't have the guts to actually ask about it after openly accepting the Argonian man despite his past- it just didn't seem right to.

"Y’mean... something like the Dark Brotherhood then," she murmured to herself. She looked at his chest once more, slightly nervous- she wasn't sure if she was stirring up memories that he perhaps wished to keep hidden. Still, if he was offering yet again, then perhaps it wasn't that bad? It wasn't as if she had thought him pure and unblemished- who was, really?- but she really didn’t want to end making him feel bad about himself...

Y'think too much. Shut up, mind.

"That one," she blurted out, motioning towards words in a language she wasn't able to read, but knew was Ta'agra- J'raij would often write in it. "What does that mean?"

Sevari was much more happy and forthcoming with this one. He patted his ribs where it was, “A saying in Ta’agra, it means ‘it is good to be brave.’ Something I keep with me to remind myself. I’ve been alone my whole life with seldom and fleeting friends and loves.” He said, “But through it all, when I’m shitting my trousers and shaking to my bones, or just doubting my life, I remember the words. A mantra.”

That made Meg smile. She relaxed from her earlier nervous disposition and took a sip of the tea, contemplating on the meaning. "I like that," she declared, once she set her tea back down. "An' I've heard it b'fore too... my friend J'raij used t'say it 'fore he went off t'sell somethin' he probably shouldn' have been sellin'." She giggled and shook her head, though calmed down a little after, eyes lowering as she looked down at her hands still holding her cup of tea. "Ain' easy bein' brave when yer alone... Scary even."

“And that’s when you should bravest then.” Sevari smiled, looking at Meg. She really was a kindred spirit with Ja’Vashara. Meg may have come from the other end of Tamriel that he did, but she couldn’t make him feel any more at home. “Hell is easier to walk through if you pick a direction. What else catches your eye?”

"That one there." She easily pointed out the white sailed ship tattoo'd on the Khajiit man, recalling her journey from Anvil to Gilane. "Not one for ships m'self though... was sick the whole time comin' here from Cyrodiil." She grimaced before chuckling. "Not gonna lie... I don' wanna go sailin' for a long, long time, maybe never. I like m’feet touchin’ the ground, thankie very much." Then she blinked, wondering if she might have babbled a little too much. "Eh... no offense if ya like ships… I’m sure they’re nice ‘nough for people who’re used t’them."

“By all means, put me in a saddle and I’ll get where I want to get.” He chuckled, “It’s less about the ship than what it represents. I got this after I was sprung from jail in Bravil after a job. Long story, but the ship with white sails means I’m a criminal that escapes too much to be held for too long.”

He winked at her, “One of my many talents.”

"Ooh...!" Now that made sense to the Nord, and she couldn't help but grin a little as she thought of her own escapade. "I get it! Hrmm… maybe I should go an' get one of those too then, eh?" She pulled at a lock of hair, twisting it around her finger in thought before explaining. "I lived some years in Riften... y'pro'ly know it's pretty, er... well, it's shady. I might've learned some things there that weren' precisely... good? But sure kept my ass alive when I was headin' down in the crypts lookin' for treasure." She seemed almost smug. "The guards never did catch li’l wee me. Pa did though." She shrugged, though the proud look on her face remained intact.

“So you’re not as innocent as I thought, then.” Sevari smirked, “I’d take Riften over Senchal or Torval any day, at least the parts I’m from. Trust me, you knew me a few years ago, you’d know shady.”

He chuckled, he pointed to another of his tattoos, “Renrijra. In Ta’agra it means criminal, lowlife, mercenary.” He touched his fingers to the ones on either side of his chest, “Fusozay Var Var, Fusozay Var Dar. Enjoy life, kill without qualm.”

He touched another, “In Ta’agra, this means ‘thank you, Anequina, for my ruined youth.’ Elsweyr is beautiful. But get too close and you’ll see.” He nodded, “You’ll see. As for escaping,” he twisted around to show the chapel on his back and the two eyes, “Three steeples, three years. I was supposed to be in there for twenty, but I made good friends and they decided they needed me out sooner. I got the eyes in jail, it means you go behind my back and I’ll see your treachery.”

“Y’sure been ‘round lots,” Meg remarked. She had been sipping on her tea as she watched Sevari point out a few other tattoos. “Hammerfell, obviously, Skyrim, Elsweyr, I’m bettin’ it’s safe t’say Valenwood… Cyrodiil? Morrowind?” The last two were just guesses, of course, but she continued onward anyway, letting out a huff. “If it hadn’ been for the dwemer attackin’, I’d pro’ly still be wanderin’ ‘round Skyrim. I’d never really been ‘round the Reach… ‘cause of the Forsworn-” she raised her eyebrows and glanced at the Khajiit - “I’m not usually someone who run t’wards danger…” She flushed, remembering that was exactly how she had first met the man sitting across from her. “Usually.”

“You tend to live longer that way.” Sevari chuckled, “Cyrodiil, yes. Morrowind, no. I’ve never liked swamps, couldn’t stand the ones in Valenwood, so Black Marsh is a no.”

He sipped his tea, “You’ve… never been outside Skyrim?”

“Like, 'til now? Nah.” Meg shook her head as she picked up her tea, draining it until only the dregs remained. “Jerall was m'first venture an’, well, even that was just at the border. I… well, I always wanted t'go 'round Tamriel, but not like this… this was more bein’ chased 'round.” She shrugged once again. “I s'pose we jus’ gotta take what we get?” That didn't sound quite fair to her though. “Part of me says once.. well, once whatever's s'posed t'happen happens, then I'm just gonna stay in Skyrim. The other part wants t'see more, without havin’ t'worry 'bout dwemer.”

“Huh.” Sevari nodded, “Well, you really are traveling now, then.”

He chuckled, taking the last sip of his tea. “Well, I did make a bet with that asshole I call my brother. Keep an eye out, I’m setting up a duel.”

He rose, sighing and scratching at his chest. He looked at Meg, saw the look in her eyes. It really was the same as Ja’Vashara, there was a mischief there, but not any evils. He smiled, turned away from her and chuckled a bit, letting the moment flow on until he spoke, “I’m glad we had this talk.” He said, “You… remind me of someone. I miss her a lot, to the Moons and back. You and her both, you’re good people. Keep that.”

He kept his smile, wistful as it was. One last look at Meg and a wink and he turned and took the steps away from her and back into the crowd.

"I'm glad we talked too!" Meg called out as he left, staying seated where she was for the time being though her eyes followed the two eyes and three steeples on his back until he was lost in the crowd. This was certainly not how she'd fathomed a talk with the Khajiit man would have gone. She let out a happy sigh, smiling to herself as she looked down at her empty cup of tea. Deep inside, most were good, and he had shown that as well. She hoped perhaps he'd realize that he could indeed have more than he believed he deserved.

If Jaraleet could, then why not Sevari? It was that simple to Meg.

With those thoughts, she stood up, ready to whet her lips with something a little stronger, and perhaps some food.

Let's Talk: The Discord Discussion

I'm not a huge Skype fan but then I never actually used it for socializing, rather for work purposes. I've found discord way easier to use, personally, very noob friendly, and definitely mobile friendly.

Let's Talk: The Discord Discussion

I used to dislike discord, thinking it was a tool that made it hard to roleplay because there was so much chat with no direction, and so much to catch up to if I wanted relevant information. But as I've learned over the year, it was never really discord that was at fault, rather those who use it. Discord, the forum, etc., all of them are tools and it's up to the GMs and players to use them responsibly.

I've had mostly bad experiences with discord and roleplays, but the one good experience I've had has clearly taught me the above- it was the GMs and the players, and probably even myself. Use the tools you have efficiently and you'll have good experiences. It's that simple for me anyway.

The Elder Scrolls: Vengeance of the Deep

Damaged Does Not Mean Broken

by Dervish and Greenie

---

17th of Midyear, Sunset, location location location

Bottle of rum in one hand and a water skin in the other, Sirine made her way through the throng of still celebrating people, smiling a little as she watched families and friends chatting with each other as they watched the entertainment. She paused momentarily to watch two men engaged in a dance of sorts with their scimitars, weaving to and fro so seamlessly that she was sure it was a practiced routine. Still, it was pleasant to watch, even if it was merely a show. Once it came to its completion, the former pirate turned away and started off yet again. The festive environment made it easy to almost forget what had transpired earlier in the day… almost. The stiff feeling in her thigh where she’d bandaged herself was a constant reminder of how lucky they all were to have survived. Bakih was alive and well, though it was clear he would need a lot of rest of both body and mind before he returned to his former self. She had made sure he had found his way to one of the healers before she tried and failed to distract herself by seeing what wares the many merchants may be selling. It pained her to think of what her little brother had to witness and how it may have scarred him for the rest of his life.

Once again she had found herself feeling the sense of guilt that had first struck her in the prison.

She finally found the Cathay Khajiit by himself, somewhat isolated from the rest of the people. Sirine wasn’t particularly surprised by this, and she wondered for a moment if perhaps this was a bad moment… but she easily pushed that thought to the side. Quietly, she set the bottle of rum next to him before sitting down cross-legged, flinching a little as she felt the mostly healed wound tense. Her eyes were quick to glance at his hand before looking away. Her own fiddled with her medallion as she thought of what to say.

“I wanted to apologize,” Sirine finally started. “Because of you, I’m no longer a whore. Because of you, my brother is alive and free. You didn’t have to help me, yet you promised and delivered, and I…” She hesitated before shaking her head, looking to the ground. “I’m not proud of myself. I was selfish, I didn’t think of how you may have felt with…” Her lips turned downward as she thought of Gregor and the Wrathman, of all those black soul gems. She hadn’t wanted Zaveed to end up dead due to his rage… but would she have done any different? She hadn’t. When she had been given the chance, she had taken her vengeance, and had continued to do so until fate had forced her pirating days to an end. Was it fair for her to feel anger when it was someone else expressing their discontent?

“We’ve only known each other for a week, but you have done more for me than most of my own blood have, and for that I’m forever grateful to you. I consider you a trustworthy friend. ” Sirine looked the Khajiit’s way at last, her expression heartfelt and sincere. “I’d be fraught with regret if that were to change.”

Zaveed continued to watch the sun dip down into the horizon, the twilight of the evening illuminating his face for a few more blissful moments before the cool of the night settled in. He offered the slightest of smiles before he spoke, “In the heat of the moment, when one’s blood boils with all manner of emotions that make you quite aware of how alive you are, the one thing that always seems to go first is reason. You don’t think, you just act. You feel the blood pumping in your ears, you lose sense of everything around you except for the very thing that’s threatening your life, you feel your wounds but you do not register the pain… there’s no time for reflection. Neither of us handled that particular situation with grace, but I’m content that it worked out in the end.” he said, turning to Sirine, his lips still upturned, but his eyes looked heavy and sorrowful.

“You have nothing to apologize for. You understand why I didn’t act with particular grace in the moment, and now the tempest of the moment has calmed, we have had time to reflect. Bakih’s safe, and you are both free.” he said softly, looking at the bandage on his hand, the white turned a rusty red; Redguards weren’t prone to promoting mages, let alone with a focus on restoration, it seemed. “It felt good to do something to help someone for a change. Ever since I met you, I’ve had something to focus on that wasn’t despairing over my crew or trying to feel something by throwing myself into cruel work. I was lost in a maelstrom of darkness, and you were a light that helped me find my way into harbour. It is I who should be thanking you, my dear.”

Sirine felt a little sense of relief slowly settle over her with Zaveed's words. A small part of her had been worried, though now that it was dispersed, she did feel a little silly for having such a fear. However, the relief it was tinged with something else. Looking at him as he was at this moment, sans his earlier rage or his charming flirtations, he seemed almost vulnerable, the look in his eyes causing her heart to twist painfully. There was an invisible burden on his shoulders, a darkness hovering over him; she wished there was some way to disperse it but she didn't quite know how.

Nevertheless, the former pirate smiled in his direction before she looked out at the sunset herself, sighing softly as she gazed at the red in the horizon. "It's like a circle, isn't it?" she said after a moment. "Round and round we go; I thank you and you thank me, and in the end, we'll both still feel what the other has done for them is more profound." She reached out and took hold of the bottle she had brought. It wasn't long before it was uncorked; Sirine took a small sip before setting it back on the ground between the two. "I can't repay you for what you've done for me..." She paused, gathering her thoughts before continuing. "I was ready to follow you not just because you promised return to the sea, but because I felt I owed you a debt for all you've done.

"But..." She shook her head, glancing at Zaveed once more. "It's not that anymore. It's... a little difficult to explain." She had always felt as if she was a leader or a follower, someone who looked up to others or looked down at them. It felt different here- she felt like she was talking to someone her equal, someone who could understand and relate to the things she did.

“Now that our debt has been squared away, you helped me find my sister, I your brother. You helped a battered and half dead man find his footing, and I helped you find your way out of a whorehouse and rediscover who Sirine is. What comes next, I wonder?” Zaveed asked, picking up the bottle with his good hand, studying the label with an appreciative hmph and tipping the bottle to his lips, feeling the familiar and comforting burn, like a cleansing fire. “I imagine you will want to see Bakih to safety, not to lose him again.”

There was a tightness to Sirine's jaw as she recalled the conversation she'd had with her brother as they had made their journey to the village they now found themselves in. Her eyes stung; she looked away from the Khajiit and back to the horizon once more. "The whole reason he ended up there was because of me," she finally broke out. Now that he was safe and sound, she somehow felt worse about it. Why hadn’t she sent him away all those years ago? "He would have never been on that ship... he wouldn't have been taken prisoner if he were still with my other brothers. I- I told him we're to part ways. Following after his big sister has brought him nothing but misery, even if he hides it well. It may have seemed to others as if he relied on me, but no, it was the other way around. And I can’t have that anymore."

Her eyes narrowed momentarily as she stretched out her legs, relieving the tension in them. Comfortable once more, she reached for her water skin, pulled out the stopper and took a gulp of water, cleansing her palate. "What comes next? I'm not sure." She looked back to Zaveed now that her emotions were somewhat composed. "Except that Bakih will not be following me any longer. And, well, for the time being at least, you are going to have to bear with my company, whatever you decide."

Zaveed put a hand on Sirine's shoulder. “Your guilt is misplaced, Sirine. You speak as if Bakih would have picked another path if he'd known the risks, or that he didn't do it for himself. From what you told me, your brothers are real cunts. Maybe he was just as eager to get away from them as you were?” the Khajiit pondered with a smile. “I had rather hoped you'd wish to stay by my side for a while longer, I quite enjoy this most rare of company. I do think you need to speak to Bakih and ask him what he wishes. He knew he was going to be living a dangerous life as a pirate, and he's a grown man. Let him decide what's best for himself, and support him as he has you for all these years.”

"You're probably right." No longer chewing the inside of her cheek, she let out a huff, not quite one of discontent, rather uncertainty. "No, you are right. Bakih always wanted to be where I was, but the path I chose and desired wasn't the one he would have wanted. He learned to use a bow because he didn't like being so near... so into the fray. He was always much softer than me and my brothers. It was an adventure at first, but I could see he was tiring of it..." She looked down at her lap. "My last trip, I had decided when we reached Gilane that I'd ask him to stay back. I told my quartermaster about it before we headed out for my last conquest. When we returned-" She bit the inside of her lip before continuing. "Well, you know what happened already."

This time it was a somber sigh that left her; she couldn't help but wonder if things would have been different if she had simply stayed in Anvil. "I just don't want to see him hurt again. He's always been on my side, even when the tides were against us. I've... just lost too many. Something happening to him again would kill me." She couldn’t help but laugh under hear breath, though it was without humour. “It almost sounds selfish, doesn’t it? I don’t want him in danger, for myself.” She paused for a second, a little hesitant, and then continued. “It was why I snapped at you there, with the clannfear. I didn’t want you dead either, for my own selfish reasons.”

“Let him be the master of his own fate, but let him know how you feel.” Zaveed said in a reassuring manner, drinking from the rum bottle once more. He smiled behind the lip of it. “Oh, feeling possessive of me, are we? I’m flattered.”

Sirine puffed out her cheeks in an almost childlike manner before letting out the air, giving Zaveed an amused yet mildly exasperated look. "Perhaps I am," she replied, crossing her arms over her chest, fingers lightly tapping her arms. "It tends to happen, my dear, when you have a rather short supply of friends you can trust."

She relaxed her stance in the next moment however, her arms loosening and falling to her lap. A small laugh escaped her lips as she leaned back on one arm, hand pressing against the ground behind her. "I jest, yet, I don't. It might seem silly but being in your presence is comforting in a way... nostalgic even." Her free hand took hold of the water skin again and she took a gulp, enjoying the clear, sweet taste. After a moment she set it down in her lap, though still holding on to it. Straightening up, she brought her free hand to her eyes, wiping an unintended wetness. "I miss it," she finally muttered. "And I miss them. The sea, my crew, my quartermaster Dar'Narej. Bakih was on my mind for so long that I pushed the thought of them away, yet now..." Her lips tightened before she slowly breathed out, composing herself. "My apologies. Now's... probably not the time to speak of such things."

Zaveed reached over, gently wiping away Sirine’s tears. “No, it’s fine. You’ve been holding this in for who-knows how long.” he said, offering the rum back. “I don’t imagine you’ve been able to speak to anyone about this for some time. I spoke with Sevari earlier about this, my own loss. Our stories are not so different, and our pain identical. You’ve lost your family, the one you chose. As have I, but…”

The Cathay smiled, pulling Sirine into an embrace. “You don’t have to shoulder your burdens alone. Let’s take time to heal, together. We’re both rather damaged goods, yes?” he chuckled, enjoying the feeling of physical contact. He never realized how much he needed it until recently.

For a moment Sirine remained stiff, surprised by the gesture. When was the last time someone had embraced her? In the tavern perhaps, by a rancid, drunk man? But it was nothing like this. She didn't feel the disgust she would feel for the patrons, nor the hatred she would feel for herself. It was an odd feeling, one of vulnerability, something she hadn't allowed herself to feel since the day she had been raped.

Slumping, her forehead pressed against the khajiit, feeling the lump in her throat expanding to such an extent that it was physically painful. Shoulders shaking, she silently allowed herself to shed tears for her crew-mates, her friends, her past. Hot droplets rolled down her cheeks and dripped off her chin, splashing onto her tunic and probably on Zaveed as well, but for now she was glad to ignore it. She needed this.

"Yes," Sirine finally replied, her voice hoarse and barely making it past the ache in her throat. She remained in the embrace, unwilling to relinquish the rare comfort she felt. "Damaged goods... they can be made whole again, no?" She certainly hoped so. Breathing shakily, the former pirate finally looked up at the khajiit, her face stained with tears. Dark and wet eyes sought his, yearning for an answer.

He held her tightly, resting his chin atop her head, his fingers running through her hair. “Perhaps, but damaged does not mean broken. Nothing is meant to stay unworn, Sirine. Fabrics fade in the sun, a blade gets chipped and scratched. But with care and effort, something can last forever, for as long as you want it. You, my Beautiful Sirine, are very much wanted.” Zaveed said softly. “Thank you, for believing in me, for helping me realize I am so much more than my past. For the first time since I lost everything, I found someone who saw me as something more than an instrument of violence. I think I can look in the mirror now and be reminded of the boy I left behind, that there’s still hope of seeing what I could have been if I didn’t allow myself to be pulled with the current.” He sighed contentedly, tears welling in his own eyes. This was something he never expected, nor deserved, but at that moment, he felt like the luckiest man in the world.

He felt hope.

"Damaged but not broken." Sirine tested the words aloud and found that it was the answer she needed, a plain and simple truth that that could lead her forward rather than dwelling forever in her dour past. A sniffle escaped her, but it did nothing to subdue the smile that came to her lips as she felt the cool touch of her medallion against her skin. Perhaps it was more than just a token of luck and focus, because she no longer had any desire to remove it, nor did she feel any disdain for herself for having it on her person.

Waiting no longer, Sirine returned the hug with equal fervour, finding peace and contentment in the unblemished closeness. "Well then... let's make sure we last forever, shall we?"

“Of course. Who am I to deprive the world of my handsome face?” he grinned, standing up suddenly. “What do you say we go celebrate, hm? There’s a bunch of happy people down there waiting to be impressed. We did some pretty incredible things already, Sirine. Let’s just be happy for a change. The darkest days are behind us.” he said, offering a hand to the Imperial-Redguard.

Nodding, Sirine wiped her face with the back of her hand before taking hold of the offered hand and pulling herself up to a stand. "Yes, let's." She smirked as she tucked the water skin in her belt and grabbed the bottle of rum. "This is yours, keep it." She pressed it into his free hand. "A gift of sorts."

Letting out a satisfied sigh, she motioned with her head. "Well, before Bakih starts grumbling about yet another khajiit..." She stifled a laugh.

“I’d like to assume I’ve given Sevari enough time to find me a dueling partner.” Zaveed said with a laugh, placing a hand on the small of Sirine’s back. “I’ve got ten Septims on the line saying he can’t find someone who can best me.” With a shake of the rum bottle and a heavy chug and an enthusiastic sigh, the Khajiit grinned to his companion. “Liquid courage, isn’t it? I’d look mighty foolish if I lost in front of you.”

Sirine couldn't help but return the grin with one of her own, accompanied by a wink. "Well then Zaveed, all you have to do is make sure you don't lose, hm?"

“Even if I do, at least I go down knowing he never had as fine of a companion as I do tonight.” He held out his arm. “Shall we?”

She took the offered arm easily. "Lead the way, Captain Greywake."

The Elder Scrolls: Vengeance of the Deep

Control

By Stormy and Greenie

---

16th of Midyear, Noon, the Oasis

Having left Sevari to his own affairs after their chat, Sirine felt quite at ease, a placid smile on her face as she made her way from the edge of the cave, heading further in. She had thought of perhaps stopping by and to see how Zaveed was doing, but her stomach dictated that she made a move to satiate it instead. People watching from afar was nice, but even mingling silently had its merits. By now the former pirate knew everyone in the camp’s faces and names, no longer simply identifying them by their race. She knew their companion in prison was called Alim, and it was clear they thought quite a bit about him.

The sight of fair hair caused her to pause in her steps; looking ahead, she recognized the small woman, the healer anyone she had talked to had spoken about. Raelynn Hawkford. The family name was somewhat familiar, being from a merchant background, but she wasn’t too sure if her estranged family had ever exchanged money. And frankly, she didn’t care either, so she disregarded the passing thought as soon as it came. What was much more pertinent was the fact that she had saved Zaveed’s life when she had all the right to take it away from him. Why? She was grateful beyond words, but Sirine just couldn’t understand it.

“Good day,” she called after a moment of waiting, taking a couple of steps forward before stopping where there was adequate distance between the two.

That was not a voice she immediately recognised, which only served to get instantly get her on the back foot. She had been preparing food again, and preparing snack portions for the road for she and Gregor. Now there was a presence. She turned her head to face the source of the sound, and it was as expected - Sirine. Raelynn had tried to avoid the girl, she'd found that her anger at Zaveed was also anger at her too. “Yes?” she quickly said, a knife sitting comfortably in her palm, as she stood up from the rock she had been sat on. Her posture was soft and feminine but her eyes were filled with some kind of burning intensity towards the stranger. “Can I help you?” a smooth voice accompanied the words, and a slight smile too. She was uncomfortable.

Sirine had been around people long enough to know when someone wasn’t too pleased with her presence- that sort of thing happened when you boarded ships and took out captains. It was no surprise to her that while the healer’s words were cordial, there was something lingering in them. Mistrust? Anger? Dislike? She wasn’t too sure, but she hadn’t expected anything else. Gregor’s words the day before showed her that people would judge her for the company she kept.

However, she wasn’t here to fuel negative feelings, she merely wanted to fuel herself. “I came here looking for something to eat,” she explained, eyes roaming the area before resting on Raelynn once more. “I’m Sirine, though I’m assuming you already know that.”

“Bold of you to assume I’d care enough to know,” she retorted in clipped tones with a soft chuckle, and she raised an eyebrow to go along with it. It was a catty response, even by her standards. She didn’t feel so uncomfortable with the girl all of a sudden. The Breton took her seat again and upheld her ladylike posture on the rock. “There’s plenty of food here, it just needs to be prepared. We don’t really seem to have any one chef amongst our party anymore I’m afraid.” Brynja crossed her mind, the stews she had fed them with on the road between Skingrad and Anvil, and she thought of their last encounter together. Raelynn hoped that the Nord was alright, and having as safe a travel as she could. “I’m Raelynn, and I’m assuming that you definitely know that.” She held out her hand daintily towards Sirine, for her to shake it, to formally introduce themselves to each other. She could be catty in her words, but she would not abandon gentility.

Sirine couldn't help but half smile at the reply she had received when she mentioned her name; in hindsight, she knew it was to be expected. "It often happens that we end up knowing things we don't particularly care about, isn't that right?" She didn't reject the hand that was offered to her, taking hold and giving it a brief shake before letting go. Even in that brief interaction, Sirine could feel how much softer the healer's hand was compared to her own. Either physical labour was something she never had to contend with much, or she had all the products in the world to make sure her skin remained smooth even after. In fact, it was quite surprising and perhaps a feat that the Breton woman looked no worse for wear, whereas the others were still trying to gain their bearings.

It was easy to tell that despite both their families being merchants, their upbringings had been rather different.

Her eyes shifted away from the healer to the ingredients spread, wondering whether it was worth the effort to make something edible or simply grab the nearest edible ingredient and be done with it. "Yes, I have certainly heard your name, Raelynn." She looked to the Breton woman, placid smile remaining. "From pretty much everyone I've met here, in fact. You're quite the valued member of this group."

“What can I say? They’re a good group of people. They really are, took me too long to realise this.” It brought a little warmth to her heart to hear that people hadn’t forgotten her, and it put her at ease to think that Sirine had probably listened to them, and had somewhat of a nice impression of her already. She shook the Imperial’s hand gracefully with as warm a smile as she could muster. It felt… Off, to shake her hand though, and to talk to the girl. “You seem like a woman who appreciates candor Sirine, so I’ll be honest, I was put off by you upon your arrival to our group. I needn’t explain why.” As she took another look at Sirine, she could see that some of her hair had been removed, it was… choppy at best, and she grimaced at the sight before going back to the dried meats and fruit.

"Fair enough," Sirine replied. She was travelling alongside with the person who tortured this woman. "Truth be told, I wasn't too pleased with the decision that our groups had to join for a common cause either." The anger she had felt when Latro and Daro'Vasora had left to drag their group to the caravan still lingered within the former pirate. Perhaps it was childish, but she continued to feel as if those from Samara Cell, as she now knew they had been called, had barged their way into her little trio. "But we don't often get to chose what situations we are dropped in." She watched as the woman looked away from her, tending to her own affairs. Well, if we're not skirting around issues...

"Why didn't you kill him?"

The sheer audacity of the question. Raelynn found it almost admirable, and any feelings of being defensive petered off after that. She smirked over gritted teeth, rolling her tongue over her front row as she thought of what to say, her eyes staring down at the dried apricots she was cutting into halves. They looked like round golden jewels on the cutting board, a splash of gorgeous colour against the salted meat and nuts. She slid them next to a small pile of dates. “We don’t get to choose, do we? I didn’t want to be part of this group for a very long time, I still don’t know if I do.. It was out of my control.” The knife left her palm and was placed on the board, and Raelynn turned her head to look at Sirine, she patted the ground, inviting Sirine to sit.

“Control. A big word, isn’t it?” she remarked, the syllables of the words drawn out and her tone softening, as if she was continuing to think on them as she spoke. “Perhaps I saved him because I wanted to take back control of the situation.” The mage pursed her lips and tracked the individuals around the camp with an intensity in her eyes like a predator staring at its prey. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and gentle femininity returned. “People would have expected me to kill him, and they would have understood. But to turn the tables on the situation? That gives me.... A level of control, it gives me power.” Her lips curled into a smile, it wasn’t the truth -- she’d saved him because she didn’t have it in her to take a life like that, and the ability to heal was her greatest gift. Compassion had separated them at that point in time. And there had been something else, that she didn’t know or understand still. “Spite, defiance… I wanted to be different to what would have been expected of me. I made a choice that only I could have made. That is why I saved him.” She uttered with a confident finality, changing Sirine’s phrasing.

A fleeting moment of hesitation had come over the former pirate, but she had sat down on the ground, finding it much less awkward than standing. What she had to listen to next was certainly enlightening, but what surprised her even more was that she actually understood how Raelynn must have felt. It was different from hearing the bitter hatred from Gregor about what happened, or the emotionless explanation from Jaraleet. She didn't need to hear what happened to know how Raelynn had to have felt in that moment when she decided whether Zaveed lived or died.

"Control," she repeated softly, almost under her breath. "Yes, I can understand that, perhaps more than most here." She thought back to the event that had changed her life completely, the one that forced her to realize that unless she was as ruthless as those around her, she wouldn't be able to survive the cruel world. Yet this woman... had done the opposite of what she had done. She let the person who hurt her remain alive to breathe another day. She saved him. Compassion, a word she was hearing a lot in the last few days. Sirine saw it as a weakness, yet sitting here next to this woman, it didn't seem to be one. To Sirine, it seemed as if she was the weak one, the one who had not been in control.

The realization stung more than a knife to the gut.

"You saving him ended up saving me," she said after a moment. Her face was positively neutral, but it had been a task to force those words out of her. "So while I'm grateful to him, I am in fact grateful to you as well."

“You know, Sirine, I understand your anger. I have it too, I have a lot of it - or I did, until I started just recently to try and let things go.” She lingered on the night before, the conversation she had with Zaveed, the change she had glimpsed in him and how she had found a way to tap into him to make him hear her words. She didn’t know this girl enough to know if she would listen to anything she had to say. “It’s funny you say that, about how what I did for Zaveed had an impact on your life. Our actions act like ripples you see, we may do one thing and think that to be it, but actions spread outwards... I explained the same concept to Zaveed.” She smiled at Sirine, a sincere smile this time. It was nice to see the girl soften a little, especially as she had been stomping around since their arrival.

Raelynn reached forwards to a sack of food, there were some tomatoes in there, a portion of cheese, some salt, and an oil of some kind. She took out two of the tomatoes and began to chop them, placing the slices into a bowl with care before she got started on crumbling the cheese. “My mother used to make a dish like this, cheese and tomatoes. So simple, but she told me that when she was growing up that it always felt like the greatest luxury. The red tomatoes with their sharp sweetness, and the creaminess of the cheese… She said it was happiness in a bowl.” From her observations of the girl now, she could see that Sirine had been bothered by something. Perhaps her anger and detached nature around the camp was more than just… fear, or hatred for the group. If what was being said was to be believed, she was searching for her brother. She had heard whispers that the girl was overly defensive and stern with those she had spoken with, which didn’t exactly fill Raelynn with a desire to befriend her but if they were going into the prison together - then Sirine should at least feel somewhat welcome and safe in their company. “When I first saw you, I was so angry - I felt like Zaveed had been rewarded for his foul behaviour with a friend and ally, I did not know that he had saved your life.” With that, she slid the bowl of salad to Sirine. A small gesture of kindness might, at the very least, prevent Sirine from sniping at everyone for a while...

“Thank you.” With that said, Sirine quietly took the bowl that was offered to her and took a morsel of the salad. It was nothing like she had tasted before, and certainly much tastier than the greens she'd attempt to eat when she was in Gilane. Perhaps it was the combination that tickled her taste buds? Nonetheless, she was happy her mouth was too preoccupied with chewing, giving her time to think over what the blond healer had told her, and think over her own feelings on the matter. After a while, she set the half empty bowl before her, finally looking back at Raelynn. “Saved my life is probably overly exaggerated, truth be told. I was…” She stopped, thinking better than to simply blurt out the truth. “I was in a situation that caused me to stagnate. I wanted to find my brother yet I couldn’t see the way to achieve that, and the constant sense of failure turned me into a shadow of myself.” She looked away from the healer in the direction of where she and the khajiit were camping. “I found him one morning on the docks, alive yet looking as if death chewed him up and spat him back out. He… reminded me of myself in a similar situation. All I did was show him a place to bathe and gave him clothes to wear, yet he took it upon himself to free me from the misery I was in, with a promise to save my brother.”

Unable to stop herself, her hand grasped her medallion as she continued. “All my life people have fucked me over, my own family even... Yet this strange man took it upon himself to change my life in a single morning, for nothing in return.” She let out a breath; her hand tightening before falling away from the coin and into her lap. “Apologies, I very much doubt you wished to hear the tale of my past, sparse though this rendition was.” She reached for the bowl once more and began to eat, her mind still awhirl even if her expression betrayed little.

All Raelynn could do was listen - she was surprised that her gesture had prompted Siring to open up to her, she had so far seemed completely closed off. It was annoyingly endearing and she worked hard to restrain a sneer. She wondered how long Zaveed had been sat there after she herself had left until Sirine came along, it almost seemed as though the Imperial had been meant to find him. Raelynn was not entirely inclined to believe in such things, however, and yet - here they all were, heading to the same destination with the same goal. To rescue someone that meant something to them.

Her fingers worked to bag up the snacks into pouches, and her mind ran through what Sirine had shared, she had been nodding at intervals so she would know that the mage was listening along with her story. “People have the capacity to hurt and betray us, but that does not mean all people will, Sirine. I’m glad that you have found trust in Zaveed. It’s a different experience to what I had with him, but if you believe in him then let that help you in turn, to trust others too.” She pulled the drawstring on each bag, placing them both at her side. She was done with her task, and she pivoted in her seat to face the girl head on now. “I did not ask to hear your story, you’re right, but you saw fit to tell me anyway. I hope that means you are coming around to the idea of this merger.” It was the only tactful way that she could explain it. “You’re the only one of the three of you without a relationship to any of us in our group. It must be difficult, I have been unnecessarily hateful towards you - this does not help us with our shared goal.” She said, but without apology.

She deliberately took three of the remaining apricots and handed them to Sirine. “Your brother must be very special to you for you to do all of this. I have no siblings, so I can’t say I can understand what you feel, but know that my friend who is also in the prison is very special to me too. I want us to trust each other, so we can get the job done. I have no intention of fucking you over on this mission, and I can say with absolute certainty that none of my people will either. They’re good. It’s not in their nature to leave a man behind.” She pulled her hand back to her side, a plain expression on her features but her eyes still shone like sapphires, aglow with something, “my question is, when you get what you want on this mission, will you?”

"There's an old saying, not sure where it's from, but it's apt." Bowl now empty, Sirine set it down once more, sighing softly with satisfaction. She hadn't expected a good meal when she came here, so even if her mind was unsettled, at least her stomach wasn't. "A person who has had their tongue burned will blow even on cold milk. Trust... isn't something I easily dispense, and I'll admit the first day here I was very wary that anyone may just stab Zaveed at night and be done with it. If I was in your place, I would have. Even now, I do not fully trust anyone here save my two companions, though the notion that he'll be killed is no longer there at least." She paused, thinking about what Gregor had said, what Sevari had just mentioned to her." I've been hearing this a lot since I came here. Good people. Better people. I'm not that, there's no way I could be after my deeds."

She spared a glance at Raelynn before taking the apricots, holding them in her lap for the time being. "Even as a small time pirate, there was one thing the people I interacted with knew- I keep my word, I don't betray people I have agreed to help. Sevari is keen on keeping friends in this group, and I will not make that difficult for him. As for Zaveed..." Push come to shove, she would follow him; she trusted him the most and he was the one leading her to her ultimate goal back... home. And if she was being honest with herself, she enjoyed his company. It was nice to finally spend time with someone who seemed to relate to her and enjoyed the nautical life as much as she did… had. "The last thing he wishes at the moment is to antagonize this group further, and I'm not going to squander his effort. I don't expect this group to have faith in my words- I certainly wouldn't- but if you wish to hear it, then that is a 'no'. No, I will not run and leave someone behind to suffer. I have never been that sort of coward."

Looking at the apricots in her hand, she deposited a couple in her free one before before bringing the sole dried fruit to her mouth, chewing methodically when she did. Questions still lingered in her mind, some more than others, and yet she no longer had the heart or drive to ask them.

She wondered briefly if she had incensed or bothered Sirine with her question, it was likely. Nobody liked to be asked about loyalty like that, but she had to ask, and she had to choose her next words strategically. “I thought as much about you Sirine. You don’t strike me as the sort who would do such a thing, so yes, you’re correct. I just had to hear you say it.”

“As for these people - they’re good, yes. Better? How can I know that or make that call? I know so little about you and the supposed things you’ve done. Actions don’t always make us who we are, Sirine. Is a boy who steals bread to feed his whole family when they starve truly a thief? Is a beaten woman suddenly a killer when she strikes back?” Raelynn too, ate some of the fruit as she sat beside the Imperial girl, allowing her to think over the questions. “Don’t ask what, ask why.”

The Breton took a sip from her water canteen, eyes glancing down at the snack pouches. She rubbed her chin with her free hand before scooping them up and handing them, like the apricots, to Sirine. “Take these, for yourself and Sevari, or for Zaveed. You’ll need something for the journey - keep your strength up.” With a small smile on her face, she placed her hands flat in her lap. “With matters of trust, if your tongue is burnt then maybe it’s time to treat that wound. Continuing to let it burn you only allows the adversity you faced to defeat you slowly.” Raelynn said in a whispered tone, moving slowly towards the girl as she gave Sirine a wink. “And you know, Zaveed will tell you I’m quite the healer - if the burn is so bad and is troubling you, maybe that can be helped.”

"Believe me... a boy thief and a beaten woman murderer are saints..." Sirine didn't continue her thoughts, however. Did it really matter, in the end? It was no matter of pride, seeing who was better and who was worse, and she had no desire to act like it did. "When I said better, I was simply quoting Sevari. He seems to think quite positively of most of your group... calling them better people than the three of us." She spread her hands and shrugged lightly, a mild smile on her face. "It would seem he isn't incorrect..." She nodded towards the apricots as well as the snack pouches she was just given. It was hard to believe the healer was the necromancer's lover, though if she thought of it, they both did bring people back to life… in a fashion.

She blinked a little as Raelynn moved closer to her; the healer's change of tone and stance had the former pirate confused. "So I've heard," she replied, her eyes shifting away to the snack pouches, in which she deposited the two uneaten apricots. She shook her head, smile still intact when she looked at Raelynn once more. "Unfortunately, this is the sort of burn I have to learn to heal myself... But I appreciate the offer, as well as the food. I have to admit I wasn't expecting the... hospitality. Perhaps your work as a healer is already showing fruition?" Her neutral smile shifted to one tinged with amusement for the smallest moment before returning to its former self. "Thank you, Raelynn." Letting out a small breath she pulled herself to her feet, making sure she kept a firm grip on the snack pouches.

The Breton drew a smile upon her lips, their conversation had been interesting to say the least. She only hoped that she’d been able to do enough to wind down the Imperial’s attitude - at least for now. All Raelynn wanted was for Alim to be safe, and for everyone to get out with their lives. As long as they were all on the same page, she believed that they would. There should be no tension in the air, and yet she couldn’t help but continue to sense it, like a piece of string pulled so taught - it was bound to snap sooner or later.

“I’m glad we had this chat, I understand that there are things that you must do yourself. I know that more than anyone…” her voice trailed off lazily as she thought back to the days she spent with Rhoka in her father’s Gilane residence. She hoped the girl was doing well, she had suspected there was a fleeting romance between Zhaib and the handmaiden, but she could never be sure. It’s not like Zhaib would have said anything about it either way. “As for what Sevari thinks, it’s subjective is it not? You may believe that we’re better in some way, on whatever level you judge that - it doesn’t mean that you can’t ever be.”

She looked down at the piles of ingredients and scratched her head, “I suppose I will have to make more snacks now…” followed by a quiet and gentle laugh. She should probably get to work on putting the mushrooms to use too, the group was going to need potions. She wondered if after all this work she would have time for a quick nap before they left. Most likely not. She sighed. “Take care of yourself Sirine, and please, if you need anything then I’ll be sure to waive my consultation fee.” Raelynn smiled gracefully, before picking up the knife once more, running her thumb over the blade softly, and getting back to work. It seemed these days, that the work never stopped.

Sirine nodded, smiling a little more sincerely when she looked the healer's way. "I'll be sure to remember that," she replied. Taking a breath, she lingered only long enough to see Raelynn return to work before turning around and making her way back to camp. She paused by her bedroll and dropped the snack pouches on top, deciding she'd pass them along later rather than search down Zaveed and Sevari, neither who seemed to be in her line of sight at the moment. Letting out a sigh, she walked to the mouth of the cavern and headed out under the wide blue sky for the first time since the group's arrival to the oasis. The hot desert air touched her immediately, like a slap to the face, but she didn't mind. She felt much too restless to stay inside.

It didn't take long for her to find someplace to simply settle down and look out upon what seemed like neverending sand dunes. In a way it reminded her of the sea and how it felt as if the water could just continue ever onward without a pause. Sighing yet again, she pulled her knees up, resting her arms upon them, and her chin on her arms in turn. She felt very strange after her talk with Raelynn. It had been much less awkward than she had assumed, yet now that it was over and she was alone, she felt very out of her element, overwhelmed. Her eyes darkened as they caught sight of one of her wrist, or rather the scar that decorated it. A rope burn; her other wrist had its twin. She had never let them affect her- what were a couple of more scars to the collection she already had? But right now, in this moment, she hated them. It had been hard to remember anything that had happened that day, but she had assumed she'd been tied so as not to escape... not that she could have anyway.

Should I have left them alive? The thought caused her a surge of nausea, to the point where she pressed the back of her hand to her mouth. Even now, she couldn't fathom doing such a thing. Even now, she could remember the pure pleasure she had felt watching the man begging for his life before she killed him. She had thought she was in control then. Now she only felt weak and petty.

Pathetic.

Tears gathered in her eyes, but it was fine; the desert heat would take care of them.

The Elder Scrolls: Vengeance of the Deep

Kinship

by Shafty and Greenie

---

16th of Midyear, Near Noon, the Oasis

Rucksack on her back, paper and ink and quill nicely stowed away, Sirine was making her way back to the entrance of the cave where she had decided to sleep the first night and the following one since their arrival to the oasis. It was nice and secluded, comparatively, yet still offered a nice view of the cavern and the many within. Perfect for Sirine's people watching, as it were, which she would have continued if she hadn't seen the familiar figure of Sevari standing near the entrance of the cavern. A relaxed look on her face, she made her way over to the man, raising a hand in greeting. It was still something of amazement that two men of the same race could look so vastly different from one another. Well, they certainly argue like brothers.

"You're looking quite lonesome there by yourself," she commented once she was close enough to be heard without shouting.

“Looks can be deceiving.” He smirked around his cigar, nodding to Sirine. He patted the pistol at his side and the large messer sword on the ground next to his disassembled rifle, “I’ve got my best friends right here.”

He had been sat at the cave’s opening like he had been every chance he got. Ever since his and Aries’ conversation, he would perch himself at the entrance as often as he could, cleaning his weapons or smoking, or doing anything to make sure Gregor never knew he and anybody he talked to was being watched. He felt a sense of normalcy, being a spy again. Covering every action with another, maintaining appearances, every word veiled with misdirection, people-watching. After all, he still was who he was. “You always just take a stroll at the same time?” He asked curiously, “Same route too?”

Sirine looked to the pistol and the sword before allowing herself a laugh. It sounded almost sad if she was being honest with herself, but he seemed quite satisfied with himself. "I see, well greetings to you both, best friends of Sevari."

Silly joke put to the side, she nodded at his question as she took a seat nearby, one knee tucked under her chin as she folded her other leg under herself. "I like taking a walk around the river," she started. "The sound is very soothing, though not quite like waves at sea." She chuckled a little, wondering how long it would be before the Ohmes-Raht got tired from hearing the virtues of the sea from both herself and his brother. "And I've been meeting some... interesting people along the way. I believe you're familiar with them. Gregor yesterday, Megana and Jaraleet today. The last one is your friend, isn't he?"

“Yes,” he nodded, finally pulling the rag once more through the barrel of his rifle as it came out just a bit more blackened. He began reassembling the weapon, “A steadfast one, something in short supply for me.”

He was quiet for a bit, focused on reassembling his rifle until it once again took form as a weapon. He worked the lever and slapped a round home in the chamber, aiming down the sights and putting it down. “He and Gregor are friends too, I’ve learned. Now I don’t know who he holds more loyalty to, him or me. There are things I’d like to find out about Gregor and his crimes in Hammerfell.”

He got up to a squat and took a drag of his cigar, speaking through the cloud, “You can see how grand this makes me feel about the Argonian. Do you think they all know about the necromantic fuck?”

Sirine looked away from the tents and over at the cloud of smoke covering the khajiit man. While the sight amused her, it was dulled by his words. "They don't," she replied flatly, a frown replacing her previously relaxed expression. "I mentioned it blatantly to them both, to Gregor and Jaraleet. The former said it was an appropriate punishment for his lover’s torture. The latter mentioned that it wasn't common knowledge and it would be best for it to remain that way." She let out a humourless laugh, shaking her head. "I found him tolerable, the Argonian, but I don't understand how..." Her teeth gritted in irritation before she took a deep breath, attempting to calm herself. "He said the man's like a beast when cornered, as if he was warning of what may happen if the necromancer was threatened. And yet they feel he is a good man."

Fingers tapping against her knee with irritation, she further continued. "I mentioned him to Zaveed the night we arrived. He seemed nonchalant, said not to be concerned about Gregor. But I don't know..." She raised her eyebrows, head tilting as she tried to decipher what Sevari might be thinking.

“You and I both know Zaveed has led the kind of lives we have.” Sevari began, looking out over the tents and watching the goings-on of the camp, soon enough seeing Gregor in there but averting his gaze lest it stay there too long and the man catch him looking, “If anybody killed Zaveed, Zaveed himself would know he deserved it. I hold no illusions it holds true for me too.”

He shook his head, grabbing up a whetstone and getting to work on his messer, “But you fuck with a man’s soul.” He growled, “You fuck with my brother’s soul. I’ve killed men for far, far, far less than that. I just have to figure out how I can do this without turning each and every one of these people against me. I let my own fondness for one of my target’s protectors get the better of me once. Once.”

“If it’s between my love for my brother and my friendship with Jaraleet and Latro,” he frowned darkly at Gregor in the camp, “Let’s hope they don’t have to find out how those chips fall.”

"That's the part that scares me," Sirine admitted, "from when he mentioned almost being soul trapped when we hadn't left Gilane yet." She looked down at the ground by her boot, her free hand flicking at a few small pebbles laying about. "We are with people who have someone so... dangerous with them. I saw the healed scars on your brother's chest- they looked bad enough then and I can only imagine how terrible the wounds had been when inflicted. How can we trust such people? What do we really know of them? This... peace, these allies, it all seems so fragile..."

Her hand moved away from the ground to grasp the coin around her neck; she glanced his way once more, uncertainty clear in her eyes. They were here because they trusted Sevari's judgement, but if he himself wasn't sure... "Do you trust they won't see us as extra fat to be trimmed? Because as far as I can see, I need you and Zaveed to free Bakih, and as much as it irritates me to say it, in turn, you need them. Not the other way around."

“I know.” Sevari said, flat, as the whetstone rang across his blade. A few more long rings and he spoke again, “Trust me. I have people here too that would protest to have at least me gone. But it is all tenuous. The bridge was seen as kindling when Latro came riding up out of nowhere, I know.”

He stopped for a moment, puffing on his cigar, “Their weakness though?” He frowned and found Sora in the camp, “They’re better people than me.”

Sirine couldn't help but let out a small sigh at that. She wasn't displeased, but she didn't know how to feel about what Sevari said. It was like that conversation she’d never had with Zaveed. How did one know who was good and who wasn't? Were people who harboured a necromancer really 'better' people? She decided not to contest him, however. She would have to simply trust the man and have his back if things went south, just as he had helped Zaveed free her from that shithole of a tavern.

"I saw you talking to someone when we arrived," she said after a moment of silence. "That woman... I don't recall her name but the one with the reddish hair." The hair had stayed in her mind because it had reminded her quite a bit of her younger brother's. "She doesn't really sing terrorist-" a smirk came to her face and she lifted her hand- "apologies, I mean freedom fighter. She seemed quite testy- she isn't a former lover, is she?" Her tone was now lighter, indicating she didn't really mean what she said seriously.

That made Sevari laugh, something that wasn’t known it was needed until it happened, “No, no.” He said, the vestiges of a smile still on his lips, slowly fading, “No. An associate. Things in Hammerfell with the insurgency… well, I have a complicated working relationship with them. I’ll leave it at that. As for Janelle, she’s a very good helper and I am a helper to her in turn. A sense of loyalty in a world where there is almost none.”

"Hm..." Sirine tapped at her chin with a finger. She supposed it made sense in a way- there was so much she didn't know about the insurgency after all, save for the lists she had found in Jamir's dresser. She had never been one to bother herself with politics as long as she and her crew were fine with a path to the sea. The idea that she was part of a group of rebels wasn't the most comforting to her. However, it seemed to her as if Sevari trusted this woman, so that was something at least.

"I guess that's one person we don't have to worry about trying to stab you in the back then." Sirine laughed under her breath before continuing. "Are you the reason she's with the group, or is that due to something else? She just... seems different from the rest."

“We brought a few of them into our world. Ones we knew we could keep an eye on.” He sighed, holding his blade up to check the edge on the sunlight. Seeing no imperfections in the edge, he slid it into its scabbard, “When the time came, we brought ourselves into the light to the lot of them. Everything else about the why’s and how’s is not for me to tell.”

Sirine nodded in understanding. "That's fair," she agreed. There was so much that was probably hidden behind most of these people, even friends, that would take much unravelling to reveal, if at all. She herself kept many secrets that wouldn't necessarily affect anyone other than herself.

"I mentioned I talked to that girl, Meg?" Sirine decided to change the subject once more. "She said you saved her and her friend from the dwemer... she seems to trust you despite thinking you don't like her." She looked pensive as she recalled her morning conversation with the Nord. "Loyal to a fault."

“Being angry at somebody almost getting your asset killed, being angry that your asset was doing stupid fucking things?” He clucked his tongue, leaning back and taking another drag of his cigar, “Having someone you’ve never met before reprimand you for doing something stupid can be misconstrued for a disliking.”

He shrugged, “I don’t, by the way.” He said, “I have no strong feelings towards Meg, besides the fact she can be too rambunctious and act without thinking first. I remember being like that. It got a lot of people killed. So I stopped.”

"From asset to friend," Sirine murmured under her breath. She wondered what had happened to change that but wasn't actually nosy enough to ask. It was something of the past, and more likely than not was probably something Sevari wouldn't wish to talk about.

"Hm. I was actually the opposite, truth be told. Since I was a child, I never did like rushing into things." Unfolding her leg from beneath her, she stretched them out instead, leaning back on her arms as she thought of the pleasant times of her youth. "My family, both my paternal and maternal sides were merchants for as long as they can remember, as were my parents. Listening to orders, making plans, doing things systematically, it was something ingrained in me from as soon as I could understand."

Sevari smiled a bit, thinking on his childhood. The good parts. His mother, Suffian, the years spent with Zaveed and Marassa. “And then it changed.” Sevari looked over to Sirine, “Like life does? Merchant to pirate captain? Gutter orphan digging beggars graves to one of the most notorious gang leaders and enforcers in southern Tamriel with a price on his head in half the continent?”

"Exactly that," Sirine agreed, a rueful smile on her face."I ended up the exact opposite of the expectations laid out for me at birth, attacking ships just like the one I was born and grew up in. Not that I regret it. The choices I made, good or bad, turned me into what I am, and I was stronger for it." Until the dwemer attacked. "Life also has a way of sudden twists as well, doesn't it. You and Zaveed, you only recently reconnected, right?"

“Yes.” He nodded, ashing his cigar, “I paid him an exorbitant amount to take me here. I’ll admit, at the time, I never knew Captain Greywake would be my brother until I laid eyes on him. He came very recommended for the type of thing I had in mind when I came calling for his services.”

Sevari let out a sharp breath of air through his nose and a smile, “Sudden twists.” He said, “Speaking of brothers, no offense, but I’d like to at least know what the man is like before I go charging headlong into a prison owned by the same people who want me dead for treason to rescue your family.”

"That's fair." Her smile was now tinged with a touch of sadness, and she let out a sigh. "Bakih is a good person. I know it's biased of me to say, but if I'm comparing him to my other two brothers..." She shrugged before continuing. "He left the family that rejected me and travelled by my side. He didn't have to, but he did. He was barely seventeen when he decided to follow after me. Smart and loyal. Being out at sea wasn't his number one choice in life, but he did it for me. It's like I told Zaveed- Bakih gave up a good life for me and now he's stuck behind bars because of it."

She looked at Sevari. "I owe you as much as Zaveed for helping me out of that tavern and agreeing to free my brother. Neither of you had to, or have to... so thank you."

Sevari was touched by that, just a bit. Sirine owed it to her brother to get him out of that prison. The man had changed his life so much for her. Say what you wanted about Sevari, but seeing innocents caught in the crossfire was something he never liked. Not that Bakih was innocent, but whatever life he led with Sirine wasn’t the one he was expecting.

He could understand why Sirine wanted to get her brother from the prison, then. He empathized with her, if it weren’t for Sevari, Zaveed wouldn’t have even been in Hammerfell with him. “Well,” Sevari nodded, looking out over the rolling dunes of the Alik’r, “That’s a fine enough reason as any. I know how it feels, having someone suffer the consequences of your own life. Zaveed never would have been here if it weren’t for me.”

He sighed, “My life has left a lot of dead men in its wake. A lot. I don’t know how I would feel if Zaveed was one of them.” Suffian came to mind, and he’d tired of fratricide and seeing his family die because of himself, “Helping you get your brother out of that prison would be one of the only altruistic things I’ve done in my life. Maybe it’d put some good deeds behind Zaveed’s name too. Gods know he and I need some of those.” He chuckled.

"And believe me, I appreciate it wholeheartedly." Sirine reached and lightly touched Sevari's arm before returning her hand to her lap, a small smile on her face. "It's a little amazing to see how close you two are even after so many years of separation. Zaveed had a little outburst when he'd realized you were taken prisoner. And even when you two argued at that shitty tavern, it almost made me envious." She laughed under her breath. "You two care about each other to get upset with one another. Unless it's Bakih, I'm indifferent to the rest of my family."

“I think most of mine’s dead.” He said deadpan, looking out at the dunes, “The Thalmor took them. All of them.”

Except for Suffian, he thought, that one was me. He shifted where he sat and sighed, “Zaveed is the only one I have left. I used to have a woman in Elsweyr. A long, long time ago. Time came, though, I left her.” He said, “Around the same time the Thalmor killed my brothers. I didn’t want them to see me with her, so I just stopped seeing her, no goodbyes. Nothing.”

Sevari sucked his teeth and replaced his pained expression with a soft smile, “I don’t mean to assume anything about you or overstep any lines, Sirine,” he worked his jaw trying to come up with the words, “If you and Zaveed are what I think you are, or becoming… I’m glad. He needs that. Maybe you can keep him from being such a theatrical shitheel.”

Sirine blinked in response to Sevari's words before laughing under her breath. "Well, I guess I owe it to you to try," she replied, purposely deciding to ignore his assumption. "With this crowd, I can hardly blame the man for the way he may act... though I daresay, simply from watching the going ons since we've arrived, I don't believe you have to worry too much. Besides..." She couldn't help but chuckle aloud this time. "I thought theatrical was part of his charm. That display in the Scorpion's Song with Jamir was-" she smirked "-absolutely entertaining."

“It gets old.” He said, though his smile stayed, “Trust me, whatever he is to you, friend or… you know. He needs as many fucking guiding hands as he can get.”

"I'll take your word for it," Sirine replied, glancing in the direction of their shared camp. She wasn't sure if she was capable of being a guiding hand- she didn't quite have a clean slate herself. Friendship however was proving an easy task, to her surprise, and a pleasant one at that. "I gave him my word that I would follow him, and I don't intend on breaking my promise; once the sea captures a person's heart, she never truly releases her grasp. I feel this and I'm sure Zaveed does too, and it gives us common goal to strive for. Beyond that, who knows? You know he wishes to be a better person, whatever the fuck that is- I think after a while, it’s no longer in his hands, others have to accept it."

“Whatever the fuck that is,” he chuckled, quoting Sirine, “I’m guessing ‘whatever the fuck that is’ is whatever the fuck isn’t the infamous whoring, bloodthirsty, thieving Captain Greywake. All I’m asking is your guiding hand makes sure you guide him right out of any stupid heroics or poetics in the name of being a damned hero.”

He sighed, eyes going to the camp where he saw Zaveed about, “Because knowing that fool, being a better man means being a big damn hero. No in-between. Obscurity isn’t even in his vocabulary.” His voice dipped into solemnity and wistfulness as he continued, “That’s what he’s always wanted, for as long as I knew him. To be loved, to make others laugh and cheer. Funny, how I thought back then that he’d be the best out of the three of us shivering together in the gutters.”

He let a few moments pass, just watching his brother go about his life, remembering when they were younger and the idea of them turning into what they did seemed preposterous, “He and I,” he clucked his tongue, re-lighting the cigar he’d forgotten about and puffing on it a few times, “He and I… maybe we’re not the best we could’ve been, but we can at least be better.”

He pursed his lips, offering Sirine a small and wistful smile as he looked at her, “That’s what it’s about, isn’t it?”

"I guess it is," Sirine replied, returning the smile with her own. "Like I told Zaveed the other night, helping me out of the tavern and aiding in finding my brother is a fine start." She quieted, her mind thinking over what the Ohmes-Raht had mentioned. Even if it was very sparse, it was still a little enlightening hearing about her two companions' childhood. There was so much to unravel, and so much she knew probably never would be- it wasn't as if anyone knew more than the barebones about her- but she could see how a trio of ragtag orphans would have such grand dreams. It was almost impressive they had grown up to be so strong and accomplished, despite their chosen paths- it was almost enviable, yet at the same time a little heart wrenching.

There you go feeling things again. Taking in a deep breath, she slowly let it out. "It's been nice bantering, Sevari. Thank you. I know I haven’t known you or Zaveed long, but..." She smiled ruefully before shrugging. It felt silly to say it aloud that it almost felt like she was part of a crew again. “I’ll do what I can, if I can, to make sure your brother doesn’t act a complete idiot.” A small grin found its place on her face, remembering Marassa’s words. “Even if it involves a fist to a face. I quite like the rare few friends I have to remain alive and well.” She looked pointedly at Sevari. “Including you.”

Sevari chuckled at Sirine’s words. He felt something he hadn’t felt in a good long while, not since being at the head of his gang with his loyal brothers, no matter how tough and cruel a lot they were. He felt a genuine kinship. That meant something, “Thank you, Sirine.” He smiled, “You’ll have me when you need me, long as we’re running together.”

Sirine smiled, her stance and expression relaxing once more as she leaned back and looked out in the distance. "You're welcome, Sevari... and thanks."

The Elder Scrolls: Vengeance of the Deep

Good People

---

16th of Midyear, Morning, the Oasis

Meg was feeling much better today, as it were. Now that she could stand up and walk with less of a limp than the previous day, she was beginning to feel less of a burden to the group and somewhat more confident in herself. It still irked her terribly that she had managed to get shot while they were escaping. It seemed like such a stupid thing- she had spent years travelling through dangerous places and situation and survived without too many scratches. Yet the one time she needed to be in best shape, not just for herself but for others, she ended up getting the worst injury of her life.

However, they were all there. They were all alive and well, relatively anyway. Daro'Vasora and Latro were back with them, and they had all managed to escape the dwemer without getting caught- well, not all. Alim wasn't there with them. It was a blow to the morale, but Meg trusted her companions. If they had managed it once, she was sure they could do it again. They had to.

She wasn't quite sure if they had needed to align themselves with the three newcomers, however. Sevari she recognized, and still felt more than intimidated by him. She knew Jaraleet was his friend, but that didn't have to mean he thought she was more than a nuisance. She could still hear his words from the night when he had saved their hides from being riddled in holes- never before had she been so relieved yet depressed at the same time. And what of the other khajiit, Zaveed? Meg had done a double take when she first saw the man, reminding her of J'raij at first glance. A second and third glance however proved that despite the similar hair and markings, they didn't look much the same after all. It was a relief, now that she thought of it. She didn't want such a wicked and dangerous person reminding her of someone she had cared for deeply.

And then there was the woman, some Redguard who no one knew anything about. Why was she with those two? Was she promised something? Maybe their prisoner?

Chewing the hunk of bread she'd found, Meg was so consumed in her own thoughts that she didn’t realize someone else was there until she walked into them. “Oh, sorry-” She blinked and moved back, eyeing the woman who stood before her. “Y’look differen’.” She was sure the last time she saw this woman, she had been wearing a tunic of another colour. Her hair had been longer as well; now it was pretty much the same length as hers.

Sirine took a step back as well, glad she’d had the sense to carry a rucksack rather than just hold things willy nilly in her hands. Smiling mildly, she looked the Nord woman over before speaking up. “As do you,” she commented. “It seems your injury has somewhat abated. That is good.” She waited a couple of moments, wondering if the Nord had anything else to chime in, but after a little silence, she nodded and started off again. “Well then, see-”

“Wait!” Turning around, she saw Megana looking at her sheepishly. “That’ er… wasn’ real polite of me. Sorry ‘bout tha’. I was jus’ surprised is all.”

Meg lifted a hand, about to rub the back of her head to relieve herself of awkwardness, but then she had an even better idea. Breaking the hunk of bread she still held, she offered the unblemished half to Sirine, a wary but since look on her face. “Y’must be hungry, I’m bettin’?” She really didn’t know what to make of this woman, but perhaps some offering of goodwill could help. Maybe she could even find out a why.

“Oh… thank you.” The former pirate reached out and took the piece of bread, the mild look on her face shifting to one of surprise before returning to its former self. Immediately she wondered why the younger woman would be offering her something to eat. She didn’t expect it to be poisoned or anything like that… it just surprised her. She took a bite and chewed thoughtfully, taking her time as she did so.

“Er…” Meg looked a little uncertain now. Did she not like it? Did it taste bad? It was nice enough for the Nord woman, albeit a little dry without anything to drink. “Is it a’ight?”

“Oh, yes,” Sirine replied, sending a smile the woman’s way. “My apologies, I simply didn’t expect to be handed something to eat from someone I hardly know.” Was this a common thing for the people here? She did recall Ursa and Floki doing the same whenever a newcomer joined their crew. It was ‘making them feel at home’.

As it turned out, her suspicions weren’t far from right. Meg rubbed the back of her head before giving the Imperial Redguard a sheepish smile. “Well, you’re kinda part of the group now, y’know? Even if it it's only been for a li’l while. ‘Sides, y’gave me tha’ potion in the wagon, the health potion? Really helped with the pain and got me sleepin’ for a bit.”

“Ah, I see.” So it was to repay her for her favour. Now that made quite a lot of sense. When she had given the girl one of the health potions she’d salvaged before leaving the tavern, the former pirate hadn’t really been thinking about being repaid, rather she had expected the Nord woman to forget about it. She wouldn’t have minded or felt hurt either. “So you consider me part of this group then? Even though I travel with two men the rest of you all seem to dislike?”

Slightly taken aback, Meg took a bite of her bread so that she had an excuse not to reply right away. She also used her extensive chewing session to think about what the Imperial Redguard asked. It was obvious those three were part of the group, seeing Sora and Latro were the ones who recruited the trio. She trusted them, and she knew Sevari was an ally- he had saved Jaraleet after all, and well, her too in a sense- he could have simply let her die. As for Zaveed… Meg didn’t know what to think of him. He tortured Raelynn and kidnapped Sora. He did such horrible things-

“I can see it on your face.” Her thoughts were broken by Sirine speaking up. Meg’s green eyes landed on the other’s dark pair, and though they were pretty much the same height, she felt smaller somehow. She was almost reminded of her talk with Gregor all those days ago, given courage only by copious amounts of alcohol swimming through her system. He had been a fearsome enigma to her- he still was a mystery, to be fair, but she no longer truly feared him. He was on their side after all!

“Whatchu talkin’ ‘bout?” She blinked at Sirine, feeling the woman’s eyes boring into her own.

“You’re unsure,” Sirine replied easily, a small smile on her face. “Even though you’re trying to be nice, you don’t really know whether you should. You don’t know what to make of us, whether we’re truly here peacefully or will end up slitting your throats at night.” She didn’t really have any malicious thoughts against the Nord, but the former pirate was curious as to how the less dangerous seeming people here would react to her words.

“Sevari won’,” Meg replied, a frown creasing her brow as her grip on her bread tightened. “I know tha’ much. He coulda left me an’ m’friend t’die by the dwemer one night but he didn’. I don’ think he likes me much… but he saved the two of us an’ he helped the group. He’s Jaraleet’s friend.” She paused only long enough to let out an indignant huff. “I dunno you, I’m not gonna go thinkin’ bad stuff ‘bout you right from the start. The other khajiit though…” Her eyes darkened. “He’s dangerous. He hurt my friends. Ain’ no way we can just forget that. He’s not… good people don’ do things like that.”

“Oh yes?” Sirine’s smile remained; this woman was as predictable as she had thought, and in its own way, it was slightly comforting seeing her rise to to the bait. “Tell me then, what do good people do? Do they join terrorist cells? Do they torture peaceful administrators and murder them? Do they let prisoners escape from prison?” She raised an eyebrow before taking a bite from the bread, waiting with bated curiosity to see what the response to that would be.

“That’s…” Meg blinked a little at the barrage of questions thrown her way before looking away to the side, unsure of how to answer them. This has been on her mind since their arrival in Gilane, but she had continuously been shoving it to the back of her mind like a coward. When they had been in Imperial City, in Skingrad, in Anvil… they had been running from different obstacles, surviving to live another day. But in Gilane… things had changed from the moment they had accepted the Poncy Man’s proposal. From the raising of the garrison to saving Shakti, to Nblec's torture and death. Violence, lies, secrets. When she was in Skyrim, Meg had actively kept away from either side of the civil war for these very reasons, not wishing to be involved in anything of the sort where she couldn't decide who was right and who wasn't. Yet here, she had been forced into just that by circumstance. The men she had killed could very well have had families and children. The people Jaraleet had dealt with, what sort of trauma were they going through?

Why was it so much easier to point fingers at a strange khajiit than at her own self and her friends?

“I don't know,” she finally replied. She glanced back at Sirine, expecting a look of victory on the Imperial Redguard’s face, but there was nothing of the sort. In fact, the woman looked almost sympathetic to her struggles.

“It looks like we're in the same boat,” Sirine commented with a half smile. “Because neither do I.” Whatever pleasure she had wanted to derive was lost as she recalled her conversation with Zaveed the night he trimmed her hair. How did one choose what was good and what was bad? How did a person decide who was the one who deserved their goodwill and who deserved nothing? Wasn't it all simply based on individuals and their biases?

“Well…” Meg was a little hesitant at first, but decided to continue with her thoughts. “I know one thin’; I'mma do what I can t'keep my friends safe an’ happy. If anyone tries t'hurt them, I'mma hurt them righ’ back. Yer part of the group now, so I'mma do the same for you too.” She looked almost defiant, as if trying to dare Sirine to say something else. “Daro'Vasora an’ Latro let y'all join us, an’ I trust 'em both.”

“Heh.” The former pirate shook her head before sending a small but genuine smile the Nord woman's way. “Very well then. I'll make sure your trust in them doesn't have to waver.” If this woman was showing so much loyalty for someone who had simply shown up, she couldn't imagine the lengths she would go through for her companions. In a way, Sirine felt envious; it had to feel nice to have a conscience where cynicism wasn't always lurking about.

“And thank you,” she continued, “for sharing your breakfast. I appreciate it.”

Meg blinked at her before smiling back, one tinged with relief. “Yer welcome,” she replied, shoving a free hand in her pocket, a little embarrassed from her outburst. “Uh… I'll pro'ly head back t'camp now…”

“By all means,” Sirine replied with a nod. “I'll see you around camp.” She watched the Nord woman limp away for a few moments before turning around and returning to her own chosen path. Along with the bread, Megana Corvus had certainly given her some food for thought.

The Elder Scrolls: Vengeance of the Deep

A Matter of Perception

by Morty and Greenie

---

16th of Midyear, Late Morning, the Oasis

Sirine was sitting with her back against one of the trees in the oasis, a roll of paper unfurled on her upright knees, quill in hand and inkpot to the side on the ground. It had been a couple of days since she had written anything, and she was feeling the itch. Having found some writing supplies in the caravan, the former pirate had no qualms in claiming them as her own. There was so much to note down, so many new faces, temperaments, relationships, and while most were familiar with each other even a little, she was still mostly in the dark. Whatever little she had gathered was simply from observation, but even that was enough to fill a substantial bit of her roll.

She thought to earlier in the morning where she’d had a conversation with the Nord woman who had sat in the wagon. Megana Corvus.She seemed... nice, foolishly so. Ready to defend her companions no matter their heinous deeds. Well, I guess that is understandable. This group was so motley, it really was amazing how they had managed to remain together for so long. In that sense, she had to begrudgingly admire Daro'Vasora's success in doing so. Being a leader who kept things together was no easy task, and the fact that they hadn't broken apart even after her kidnapping was a testament to the trust and faith they had in the female khajiit.

A smirk came to her face, remembering their first meeting in the desert. What had I said? Fuck them, yes. The sentiment was still more or less there, but a little less intense now that she didn't have to worry about her friend being murdered.

“Well, someone seems mighty pleased today.” Echoed a voice a short distance away from Sirine, followed by the sound of muffled footsteps. “So, did I miss something?” Jaraleet asked as he stood in front of Sirine. Despite the Argonian’s casual demeanor, there was a serious look on his face as he regarded the Imperial Redguard.

"What, did I not seem filled with mirth the last couple of days?" Sirine lifted her eyes away from the paper to look up at the newcomer. As faces went, his was a recognizable one, being one of the only two argonians in the group, as well as the one who had been carrying around the injured Nord woman. "Jaraleet, that is your name, isn't it? I have no doubt you must know mine by now, but allow me to introduce myself anyway. Sirine Al Nahel. To what do I owe this visit?"

“You would be correct, that is my name indeed.” Jaraleet replied, electing to ignore the first comment from the Imperial Redguard. “Hmmm, what reasons could I have to visit you….” The Argonian said, chuckling softly. “Perhaps it’s because you are allies with someone who was our enemy but a few days prior?” He started listing, meeting Sirine’s gaze. “Or maybe it has to do with, how out of everyone in your little trio, you are the one I know the least about.” The Argonian continued on. “Zaveed I know by reputation, and with Sevari I have worked before.” Jaraleet said. “You, Sirine Al Nahel, are an enigma to me. And you will have to forgive me if I don’t easily trust someone whom I know nothing but their name.”

"That's a fair assessment," Sirine agreed, her gaze returning to the paper on her knees, which she now carefully rolled up since the ink was dry. Once that was done, she set it next to the bottle of ink which she proceeded to close before it had the chance to spill. Now that she was sure her things were safe, she sat up straight, crossing her legs as she returned her full attention to the man who was still standing.

Motioning for him to sit down, she nodded. "There is not much to know about me, I'm afraid. I was a former pirate, a former barmaid, a former whore. Now I'm simply a sister searching for her brother. Zaveed and Sevari have agreed to help me to that end, and so I am here. Frankly, I did not expect to be dragged into... a group quite like this, but sometimes the tides drag you where you least expect it." She smirked a little yet again. “As for trusting me, I would see you a bloody fool if you did. The fact is that aside from the khajiit brothers, I trust none of you here either. It's quite mutual, so I am in no way offended if you find my presence disconcerting.”

“Then I shall rest easy that, at the very least, you won’t see me for a fool in that case.” The Argonian replied, letting out a chuckle before he smirked at the former pirate after he had sat down. “My trust is not something I easily give, after all. I think, on that at least, you and I can agree on.” He continued on. “As for your presence, I find it less disconcerting and more like a mystery to unravel so to speak.” He shrugged, looking into the woman’s eyes. “I’m curious how you will fit into our little group, no matter how long your stay on it is.” Jaraleet continued on. “There are people….well, one person to be precise, who is very dear to me. And I want to know, to put it bluntly, if you’ll be a threat.”

“I need to know if I can trust you, and I use the term very loosely here, to not stab us in the back.” The Argonian said, his tone serious. “I do not say you have to like us, or befriend us, but we’d make poor allies if we can’t trust the other during combat, or when the time comes for us to reach our objectives, no?”

Sirine couldn't help but chuckle softly as she listened to the argonian. What a blunt and straightforward man; it was almost refreshing. At least he had the guts to actually seek her out and ask his inquiries rather than simply let his mind cook up different theories about why she was there. "When I stab someone," she started lightly, “it's always from the front, where my victim can see who is the one ending their life."

She uncrossed her legs and stretched out, crossing them at the ankle as she once more leaned back against the tree, the image of peace and relaxation. "I know of who you speak," she continued, looking in the direction of where she had bumped into Meg. "The Nord woman, yes? You helped her into the wagon." Her dark eyes looked back to Jaraleet. "There's absolutely no benefit for me in hurting her, you, or anyone in this camp. Over and above that, my two companions clearly wish to keep the peace, which is why you all even had that wagon to begin with. My goal is to save my brother, and your group leads to those ends."

Her eyes narrowed as they stared into Jaraleet's. "I am not going to endanger his rescue, and so I agreed to keep the peace, even though I have no reason or inclination to like you all. However, this means your group should uphold it as well. Especially that necromancer of yours." Perhaps Zaveed had no fear of the man any longer, but Sirine had absolutely zero faith in the Imperial man.

“Good, then I believe we shall have no problems working together if that’s the case. And, yes, you would be correct in your assumptions, I am indeed speaking of Meg.” The Argonian replied to Sirine, his eyes narrowing at the mention of necromancy. “That seems to become more and more of a terribly kept secret.” He said with a sigh, shaking his head slightly.

"Well, when you're travelling with a man who nearly had his soul trapped, it tends to come up." Sirine couldn't keep the dryness out of her tone. How long did they expect that to remain a secret?

“A bit of advice in regards to that, if I might.” He began, tone serious as he looked at the Imperial Redguard. “That particular bit of information isn’t widely known, so it would be in the best interest of everyone in the group for it to remain that way.” The assassin spoke. “You might not care about Gregor, or anyone in this group, and I don’t fault you for it but consider the following; he is a man governed by his emotions and he doesn’t respond well to threats, implied or overt, whatsoever.” He began, pausing for a second to let out a sigh. “Who is to say how he’d react if his secret was brought into the open, the only certainty if that were to happen is that violence would soon follow. Violence that would be a threat to our common objectives, as it stands.” Jaraleet said gravely, his eyes staring into Sirine’s. “A beast is more dangerous when cornered. And Gregor is a beast you don’t want to corner.”

Her arms crossed over her chest as she listened to the argonian speak, eyes looking out in the distance to where the tents were. What he said was in no way incorrect, though it did irk her a little how easily most of whom she'd had contact with were ready to mistrust and throw blame yet very protective of their own companions’ misdeeds.

"I met him yesterday," Sirine commented, looking back at Jaraleet. "Early morning. He had quite a few words to say about Zaveed and his terrible deeds. And yet he seemed perfectly happy dehumanizing the dwemer, claiming they are not people. He also seems perfectly happy trapping souls for whatever grand reasons he has." Her eyes narrowed and one of her hands clenched into a fist though her arms remained crossed. How did this group justify that sort of behaviour and yet at the same time happy to throw all sorts of blame on Zaveed? Why wasn't he more indignant about it? It seemed very unfair-

She took in a breath and let it out slowly, and as she did, her hand unclenched, resting gently on her forearm. No, this was not the place to show emotions or frustrations, not in front of people who would judge even the slightest narrowed glance. "There's absolutely no benefit in my divulging his secret," she replied, smiling once more. "As I mentioned, my goal is rescuing my brother, and I know very well that upsetting this facade of peace will only be detrimental to those goals. And it seems you understand this as well... so perhaps you would do well to speak with your companions too." She raised her hands up in a peaceful fashion. “Perhaps I’ll even try to be a little friendly, who knows?”

“You’ll have to forgive me if I find that hard to believe.” The Argonian said. It hadn’t escaped his notice the way that the Imperial Redguard had tensed at his words nor the way that she had restrained herself almost immediately. “It’s clear to me that my words don’t sit well with you. And with good reason, Gregor is after all the man who nearly killed your ally and friend.” He began, lacing his fingers. “And, as such, it frustrates you that I ask you to be patient, to be understanding to us.” Jaraleet continued on, shaking his head at the one-time pirate. “It must reek of hypocrisy to you, doesn’t it?” He said, smiling mirthlessly. “Hypocrisy, that I must note, you also share. After all, I am sure that part of you expects us to welcome Zaveed as if he had been a long time ally of ours. And, yet, you know that is not the truth.”

“After all, but a few days prior, all that Zaveed was to us was the man who had captured our leader and tortured one of our friends not once, but twice.” The assassin spoke, his tone calm. “And you might say ‘But that is the nature of war’ and you wouldn’t be incorrect. But, let me ask you this question, if the situation had been inverted, if we had been the ones to capture Zaveed and brutally torture him, would you be so quick to forgive us? To accept us as allies?” He paused for a second, both to catch breath and to let his words sink in. “I do not know why you think so highly of Zaveed but you also need to understand that, to almost everybody in this camp, Gregor is merely an upstanding man, prone to melancholy maybe but a good man nonetheless. Most of them probably couldn’t fathom to think of him as a necromancer, the same way that most of them probably can’t fathom Zaveed as anything else than the person who kidnapped Daro’Vasora and tortured Raelynn.” He said, letting out a sigh. “It is all a matter of perspective.”

Sirine was silent, her expression as calm as a lake on a breeze-less day, despite the turmoil that was brewing within her mind and heart. Once again the Argonian spoke the truth, but it wasn't just the way he spoke, but the clarity with which. He wasn't being emotional about it, nor was he trying to convince her like Gregor- he was simply stating the facts. She wasn't one to begrudge a person when they called out her hypocrisy. It was well and true, if Zaveed had been brutally tortured, she would not hesitate to kill the entire camp and toss their corpses without a second thought. Hadn't she done that once before, sneaking into the night on a ship to murder the very men who had raped her and threatened to kill her brother if she said a word?

"You have one thing wrong, Jaraleet." Finally breaking her silence, Sirine sighed softly as she sat up straight, crossing her legs once more as she rested her hands in her lap, fingers loosely interlocked. "I don't expect anyone to welcome him or me, and not even Sevari for that matter, despite him claiming you all were allies. I knew very well from my first impression of Daro'Vasora and Latro that it would be anything but." She raised a shoulder in a shrug before allowing herself a smile. "Like you said, it's all a matter of perspective. All I'm hoping is that mistrust does not end up ruining this opportunity for everyone."

“Ah, if that was the case, then it wouldn’t frustrate you so the way that we treat Zaveed. As for what happened with Sevari, well, that is a complicated story. His first encounter with Latro wasn’t the most pleasant, as I understand it, and recent matters have undone what little trust Latro had in Sevari.” The Argonian said calmly, chuckling mirthlessly at Sirine’s final words. “Oh, believe me, I think that is the one truth we can all agree in this camp.”

Sirine couldn't help but scoff, shaking her head. "It frustrates me yes, but sometimes things we expect frustrate us. The desert is hot and sticky, and most of us hate it, yet we don't expect it to be any different, right?" She quieted momentarily, feeling a little sorry for the Ohmes-Raht. "From what I've been hearing around the camp, trust for Sevari has been misplaced because he did not aid your group in attacking the palace and rescuing your leader. Perhaps at least that issue can be repaired by knowing he had been taken prisoner and would not have been able to help anyway. From the little I know, he sees some of you as friends, so if not myself and Zaveed… I hope your friends treat him properly. I’m quite certain if he could have, he would have been there."

“I know, I know.” The Argonian replied to Sirine’s words, letting a sigh fall from his lips. “It might take some time...but hopefully the others will regain their trust in him. I know that I will do my part for that to happen.” Jaraleet said, pausing for a second. “And for the rest of the group to be more accepting of you and Zaveed. I said as much to the two brothers that I’d try. Not sure how successful I’ll be, wasn’t exactly the most liked person here before you three came.”

"Is that so?" Sirine couldn't help but chuckle at the argonian's words. "Hm, you've been involved in your own dastardly affairs as well, I take it?" She gave the man a wink before continuing. "Don’t worry, whether you are successful or not, we're not going to be the ones rocking the boat, as the saying goes. If anything, I wish to leave here soon and simply complete this task of ours." The thought of being so close to her brother, yet him rotting behind bars while she was resting peacefully in an oasis reminded her too much of her night in the Governor's palace.

“I have.” Replied the Argonian calmly. “I’ve done my own share of dark deeds. I’m not a good man, this I know.” He said, nodding at Sirine’s reassurance that, whether he failed or succeeded, she and her compatriots wouldn’t cause trouble. “Good, good, we have enough enemies outside as it is. There’s no need to be making more of them, eh?”

Who hasn't committed dark deeds? But Sirine did not say this aloud, recalling what Gregor had mentioned about the man named Calen. Perhaps there were still some poor, innocent fools left in the world after all. "Enemies seem to make themselves," she stated with a wry smile. "But yes, no need for strife where there needn't be any."

She smirked a little. It seems at least one classmate will be easy to get along with, Captain Greywake. "I must say, it's been quite refreshing, having this little chat with you."

“I agree.” Jaraleet said with a nod of his head. “On both accounts, as it stands. It has been good to have this chat with you Sirine. Thank you for your time.” The Argonian said as he stood up and moved away from the spot where the Imperial Redguard had been previously writing before he had interrupted her.

Sirine waited until he was out of sight before reaching for her roll of paper, unfurling it and laying it on her lap, looking over the words she had written previously. Seeing the Argonian's name, she chuckled once more. It looked as if there were more notes for her to add for him.

The Elder Scrolls: Vengeance of the Deep

A Favour

by Dervish and Greenie

---

14th of Midyear, Late Night, the Oasis

It had been a much long day and Sirine was very happy that it was finally coming to an end. The trek through the desert had been exhausting in itself, but these 'allies and friends' had the former pirate on a constant edge that she couldn't rid herself of. Even after entering the oasis she could see the looks, curiosity, indignancy, hatred. Latro and his lover were merely the tip of the sand dune. It didn't make for good resting, despite the respite from the searing desert sun. Nevertheless, she had freshened up as best as she could, deciding to forgo her full sleeve tunic for a sleeveless one she had found in the wagon, a dull olive green one that was a little loose on her frame but comfortable and airy, and most of all, clean.

The sounds of the river were somewhat soothing, even if it didn't replace the ocean waves, so the Imperial Redguard had spent quite a bit of time simply wandering nearby, her eyes had taking in the sights of not only the beauty of the oasis, but the various people within it. They seemed a tight knit group for the most part, and though her curiosity was piqued as to how all these random individuals had come together, she was much more worried that while her little group kept the peace, one of their allies may not be so magnanimous. She didn't trust them even if Sevari did, and that wouldn't change due to a day's journey together in the desert.

Her hand had been quite close to her dagger when she saw the bearded Imperial looking man having what seemed like heated words with Zaveed, though she wasn't close enough to hear what they may have been discussing; even after the man left her tension did not, and it was a little worrisome. Calm yourself. You are going to ruin things first otherwise. She was almost certain he was the one though, and she had half a mind to ask the khajiiti if that man had been the one who nearly soul trapped him. However she had refrained; it didn't seem as if he wished for company at the moment, and she wasn’t even sure he would tell if she asked.

When Sirine did return- she refused to camp near any of the others- the sun had already set for a good while, and it seemed most were making their way to sleep if they hadn't already. She had her own bedroll which she dropped nearby before striding over, closing the distance between herself and the khajiit.

“I have a favour to ask of you, Zaveed,” she started, pulling her dagger from its place at her belt. It looked almost threatening for a good couple of seconds before she turned it around so the handle was now facing him rather than the pointy tip. “As much as I love my locks, another trip through the desert with this hair will probably kill me before any dwemer could have the chance. Do you mind…?” She made a slicing movement in the air near the back of her head, a joke of sorts as she knew very well he would understand what she wanted.

“You… want me to cut your hair?” Zaveed asked, incredulously, sitting up from having started to doze off. Of course, he could see perfectly well in the dark, including the glint of metal at her chest. He shook the sleep out of his eyes. “Such a pragmatist.” he said with a hint of a smile as he held out his hand to take the dagger. He felt its weight and balance and checked its edge against the side of his finger; it was sharp, all right. “Are you sure you wish for me to do this? I am no barber.” he cautioned.

Sirine raised an eyebrow. "Tsk, I wouldn't have asked if I wasn't." Tapping her foot against the ground, she turned her head and squinted into the darkness. "I doubt anyone else here is, and even if they were, it isn't like I trust anyone, save you and Sevari, not to slit my throat and use the night as an excuse." Looking back at the khajiit, she gave him a genial smile and wink before settling down on the ground. "Just pretend my locks are some men on a ship you've boarded."

“So brute force and ignorance it is,” Zaveed teased, taking a few moments to run his fingers through Sirine’s hair and enjoying the sensation of it all. “It’s going to be a shame to destroy something so beautiful.” he chuckled, settling on a length that would be both practical and retain her feminine charm by running her hair between a pair of fingers, which he pinched together and held the hair taunt with his pinky and thumb. The blade cut through the strands like a scythe through wheat. Zaveed was pleased with the first strike, and he felt confident he could pull off a somewhat intentional-looking hairstyle for his companion.

“So.” He said, continuing his work and only slightly watching the hair fall like leaves from a tree, “Are you making friends with your new classmates?” he teased, grinning at the absurdity of the situation. For whatever reason, doing something so mundane and domestic gave him visions of this all just being what he imagined school must have been like, with other students in their own little groups. He’d had a somewhat comparable experience aboard the Serpent’s Gale, learning lessons about life and language and the art of battle from those who had survived to tell the tale. Maybe being with another pirate brought about those memories, he decided. Sirine would relate to him better than anyone.

“Think of this as a new ship, a new crew. I guess we both have to prove we’re worth some mutton and grog and a cut.” the Khajiit observed.

Shink. Shink. Shink.

"I don't think the other students like us very much," Sirine replied, leaning a little back with her eyes closed, feeling much more relaxed than she had the entire day. It was an enjoyable sensation, having one’s hair fiddled with, and she wasn't actually worried if she ended up looking silly in the long run. Hair grew back eventually anyway, and she could already feel a little lighter, though perhaps that was simply from bantering with someone who wasn't looking their way with narrowed eyes. The attention was something she savoured as well, though she would be never mention that aloud.

"The difference is I'm not the captain," she pointed out after a moment of listening to the sound of the dagger slicing away at her hair. "Which if I'm being honest, is quite refreshing in its own way. Following orders, not having to plan and making sure all is executed the right way... sometimes it's fun to be the simple sailor." Her nose wrinkled slightly, thinking of the others in the camp. "Tell me truly, who are we following here, Zaveed? If it's not you or me... then who?"

Zaveed stopped his task for a moment. “What a peculiar question. We’re following the trail to your brother. Past that? Who knows. If it doesn’t come to provisioning or the weather, I’ve never been one to look too far to the future. Our new friends are allies of convenience, maybe Sevari wants them to be more. I’d settle for a sense of peace, personally.”

Sirine opened her eyes, looking out in the darkness though there wasn't much she could see. "Fair enough," she agreed. "I simply don't see these... friends allowing us to do as we wish, and the thought is a little disconcerting." She lifted a shoulder in a shrug before quickly lowering it, not wishing to disturb the khajiit. "Peace sounds lovely but fleeting. That man in the afternoon, his talk with you hardly seemed peaceful." She frowned as she remembered the sight of the two exchanging words, whatever they may have been. Was it important for her to know whether he was the one? Would Zaveed even tell her?

"There isn't much I know about what took place between you and these people," she finally added, her hand fiddling with the coin around her neck. "And in all honesty, there isn't much they can say that will deter me from my path and decision to follow your lead. However, I would much prefer if there is anything important to know that it comes from you rather than them."

Zaveed chuckled. “Oh, do not concern yourself with Gregor. He’s a right prick, but I doubt he’s going to lift another finger towards me. It was his girlfriend who chose to save my life; I very much doubt he’d go behind her back and undo her decisions. But naturally, I’ve nothing to hide from you, Sirine. What would you like to know about me? The long and short of my relationship is I broke the arm of their leader, killed her former partner and probable lover in captivity after using him as bait to lure her to me, I captured Raelynn twice and tortured her once for information, and then attacked her father and killed one of his guards to ensure compliance to have her come to me a second time.” Zaveed explained, as if he were talking about the weather. “Oh, and I paraded Daro’Vasora through the streets to demonstrate the capture of a terrorist leader and held a gun to her head to force Latro to surrender rather than do something foolish like attack me in the middle of the streets. So, they probably are a bit more irritable about our history than I am towards them. Does this change your opinion of me?” he asked.

"Hm... Would it change your opinion of me if I say it doesn't?" Sirine asked back, raising an eyebrow despite him not being able to see. She had figured it had to be heinous things with the way Latro and Daro'Vasora had spoke- if looks could kill, the khajiit man would have died ten times over. "I don't see any reason why it should. This is a war and these sort of things are bound to happen. Well, they happen no matter what. I know I haven't travelled the world as much as you have, but I have seen enough. You either learn and move forward or you let yourself be downtrodden and left to die."

She paused a moment before smiling, recalling the morning conversation between the two khajiit. "You know, I have two older brothers? Calum and Samer. I hadn't thought of them for a long time truth be told, not until I watched you and Sevari argue like idiots in the morning. They were the reason I learned the world isn't a place of fairy tales. I loved them both, I looked up to them, yet they lied and alienated me and made me out as a liar in front of my family. I hated them, I wanted them to pay back for everything they took from me. I worked as a barmaid and a whore until I could make enough septims to buy a small vessel, sailed out in an attempt to compete with them... and the first chance my brothers had, they destroyed my small ship." She laughed humorlessly. "It wasn't until I finally let them... and some others go that I was able to make something of myself. These people, our current allies... I hope they realize this. If they sit in the past, they are scuttling their own boats."

Sighing, Sirine attempted a half hearted laugh afterward. "Apologies, I didn't mean to make the mood so heavy. I probably sound like a hypocrite, seeing I hate the dwemer… but the truth is, as long as Bakih is safe once more… well, I don’t know."

Zaveed shook his head, continuing to trim her hair unfailingly. “It was something that was bound to come up eventually; I thank you for entrusting me with such honesty.” he said sincerely. “I promise, upon my axes and my name, you will never suffer such indignities again so long as we walk side by side. This is a much better look for you than being forced into sexual slavery by a cruel master.” he frowned behind her head, stopping for a moment. “I wish I could say I didn’t understand; I do.”

Sirine's eyes darkened as she looked down at the ground, her hand now still as she kept a hold of her coin, thumb gently stroking the markings upon it. "Then you understand why this septim means more than it should to me." She felt strange feeling stirring inside of her, a mixture of sadness and anger to think that the one who had taken her away from her place of misery probably suffered the same way she'd had. "How did-" She paused, recollecting her thoughts, and then continued. "What changed that for you?"

He mulled that over; it was the coin that had taken on a life of its own, represented a purpose for Zaveed. It was like his dagger, he decided. It was a promise for what life could be, if one were willing to do what was necessary. “I killed the men responsible in their sleep. Never wielded an axe before in my life, and yet it crashed down like waves against a hull. It was like I woke up from a terrible nightmare, and standing above their destroyed bodies, drenched in the blood of those who preyed upon me, I felt alive and powerful for the first time in my life. Then I had to fight each and every day to pay off that blood debt, but it made me stronger, more resilient. By the time Dar’Narra decided I had paid my dues, my axes were a part of my body, extensions of my will. I vowed to myself I would never let anyone hurt my like that again.” he said, suddenly flipping the dagger over to hold it by the blade to offer it back to Sirine. “How does that look, Beautiful Sirine?”

Sirine took hold of the dagger and slipped it back in its sheath before turning around to face the khajiit, lifting a hand and patting her hair. "Well," she replied, giving him a smile, "you're still calling me beautiful, so I will take it as a success. It feels good, light." She shook her head slightly before nodding. "Thank you Zaveed. I'm only the smallest bit sorry for interrupting your sleep." Her smile turned cheeky as she reached over and gave a light tug to his ear; a feeling of nostalgia flooded her as she recalled an old friend, and she let go. "It seems though we've led different lives, there's much we can relate to. It shouldn't feel comforting, but strangely it does. You said you don't think much beyond the present, but still... tell me, Zaveed, when we are finally at sea once more, what is the first thing you will do?"

He rubbed his ear, perplexed. What a strange gesture. “It helps to know you were not alone walking a path, even if you didn’t see other travellers until far too late.” He agreed, pondering her question. “I’m not sure, truth be told. Before I nearly perished, before I had met you, I had dreams of making up for lost time to make Captain Greywake a feared name once more, but now…” he glanced over to the tent where Raelynn slept. “I owe it to her to try and be a better man than I was. I just don’t know what that means quite yet, but there’s plenty of time to figure it out.”

"Helping me out of that shithole and aiding me in finding my brother I would say is a fine start." Sirine's eyes followed his glance to the tent before looking back at the khajiit. "In time you'll find out, and I suspect so shall I." She was silent for a moment before shaking her head, confusion in her eyes. "This difference, this balance between what is considered good and bad, it's not as white and black as people make it sound... what people deem good, it's very difficult to go back to being that. Or rather, I don’t wish to." She blinked and shook her head yet again, smiling ruefully. "Perhaps a philosophical discussion this late at night isn't the best of things."

“You might be right. I was having a pleasant dream that was interrupted by a better one.” He grinned coyly with a wink. “Let’s see where the tides take us, and for now, it calls me back to sleep. Never plot on a tired mind, my mentor used to say… well, before I killed him in single combat. Even absolute bastards can have moments of clarity.”

Zaveed brushed away the strands of hair and he returned to his bedroll, laying down with a lazy collapse back onto it, letting out a long, pleased sigh. “Let’s hope you don’t wake up in the morning and regret what I just did to you.”

"I doubt I will, but if I do, hair grows back." Sirine stood up, brushing away the strands of hair on her clothes before reaching down and picking up her bedroll. She took a couple of steps before pausing, looking back at the now laying khajiit. After a moment's hesitation, she spoke up again. "If you don't mind... may I sleep here?" She nodded at the ground upon where she stood before continuing in an almost hasty fashion. "Silence drags forth all sorts of memories I'd rather forget."

“What a preposterous question.” Zaveed replied with a cheeky grin. “I’d be disappointed if you did not. Please, pick a spot that’s yours. I promise I won’t steal it this time.”

There was a slight pause, and then laughter. "Ah, I see, I see," she replied, grinning as she opened her bedroll and lay it down, more than amused that the khajiit remembered her first comment his way at their first meeting. She let out a sigh as she lay back with arms beneath her head, eyes closing. A smile came to her lips; if she tried hard enough, she could pretend she was back on a ship with a crewmate. “Goodnight, Captain Greywake.”

“Goodnight, Captain Beautiful.” Zaveed purred, suddenly his breathing started to grow deeper as he lightly began to snore.