Greenie

The Elder Scrolls: Vengeance of the Deep

Dawn's Light

---

14th Sun's Height, early morning, a tent in the Reach

Sirine’s eyes shot open, staring up in the dark, breathing heavily as she tried to compose herself. Though she remained still in her laying position, she could feel herself shivering, hear her heart pounding in her ears. The sweat on her face was cooling off in the morning air that pushed its way past the closed tent flap, but it was inside that she felt the coldest. There was no need to close her eyes to see the three dead bodies on the stone floor. Bakih, Sevari... Zaveed. Each staring lifelessly at nothing as she stared down into their glazed eyes, their souls trapped in dark gems, proudly displayed in the hands of-

Stop. Her words were silent, but they were enough for her to break the line of thought she had been headed in. It was quite unfortunate that her pleasant sleep had been marred by an unpleasant dream, but that dream wasn’t fact. This was. Bakih was alive and well… as well as he could be, safe with the Alik'r where his body and spirit would hopefully recover to their fullest. Sevari was well and alive and it seemed the camp was no longer looking at him with narrowed eyes.

As for Zaveed... She looked away from the shadows lurking in the tent, turning the slightest bit so that her eyes fell on the khajiit sleeping next to her. Her fingers wrapped lightly around the coin ever present around her neck, and with her free hand she reached out, the back of her fingers lightly stroking the side of his face. A smile came to her lips, yet her eyes stung and she couldn't help but feel a tightness in her chest as her mind flaunted thoughts she would rather not think of at all.

She didn't want to think of him resigned to spending an eternity in the Dark Behind the World.

The idea that the person who had taken the time to free her from shackles of her own making would end up in an afterlife of darkness hurt her. No matter what he said, and no matter how he made sense, it still filled her with a sadness that she couldn't quite erase. Her hand moved away from his face; she hesitated only the slightest bit before letting her arm settle around his waist, fingers resting lightly against his back.

What of herself? Sirine's eyes closed, taking a deep breath and slowly letting it go. Was she a fool to worry so much about someone else when she was probably going to end up somewhere just as terrible because of her own deeds? Zaveed had been right, no matter how unfair it seemed to her. Early years marred by injustice could not justify all the terrible that was done later from one's own volition. She had been betrayed, she had been taken advantage of in the most disgusting ways... yet what she did after had been her own choice. Mercilessly killing men on their own ship, taking their goods as her own, sailing off on her own conquests.

Was it fair of her to blame higher beings for her sins?

It was strange, the thoughts that a sleepy, stressed mind could conjure, and the former pirate couldn't help but wonder if life would have been different if she had never met that boy in Anvil, the one she had thought she loved. It had all changed then, hadn't it?

What if she had never lost the child? Would she have been in Gilane now, or perhaps Anvil, with a grown child ready to leave home for adventures of their own?

No. She didn't think so. That sort of life had never been hers. From the beginning she was of salt and sea, caring nothing for the masses of land save for a sojourn. This was the longest she had ever been away from the water, and every inch of her body was waiting for the day when she would return to its embrace. No, she didn't believe she'd ever be the lady of a house, and she didn't quite think she would be a good mother.

Perhaps the divines hadn't forsaken her... perhaps they had been helping her all along?

Helping towards what? an indignant voice in the forefront of her mind demanded. To being betrayed? To being raped? To losing the family you made? To being a whore?

Her eyes scrunched tightly against the stinging, and her hand tightened around the coin. It was hard not to make any sound as a sob threatened to leave her. I grew stronger, she reminded herself, forcing her breaths to slow down despite the ache in her chest. I learned to live by my own strength. I dispensed justice to those who wronged me. I... Her breath wavered as she exhaled. Opening her eyes, she couldn't stop the trickle of stray salty tears that made their way down her nose to fall to her neck, droplets cooling by the early morning air. Her eyes once more fell upon the khajiit beside her.

Unable to stop herself, she tightened her arm around him and pressed her face against his chest, inhaling deeply before letting the air go. I met someone who understands me, someone I can trust. Someone I wish to return to the sea with. All the pain, all the twists and turns in her life, all of them had been necessary for this moment to be.

She remained that way for a long while before finally opening her eyes. It seemed the shadows were lessening- dawn's light was approaching and soon the sun would rise.

For now she would stay as she was. The coldness that had filled her was slowly ebbing away with his presence, leaving her with a small warmth that continued to grow within.

Sirine would not deny him the same.

Sum up your week in roleplaying in just 3 words

A ship sails

The Elder Scrolls: Vengeance of the Deep

Belonging

by Dr. Dervs and Greenbean

---

13th Sun’s Height, nighttime

By the time Sirine had finished her daily writing and packed away her belongings for the night, the sun had already set, though there still remained a lingering redness in the horizon. Stepping out of the tent Meg had helped set up for her, the former pirate couldn’t help but grudgingly accept that there was a certain frigid beauty to Skyrim that warmer lands did not. She sniffed the air delicately, the cool night air mixed with the scent of grass and smoke strangely appealing to the senses. Despite the difference in temperature and the fact that her short cloak was wrapped around her so tightly that she could no longer tighten it further, it made no sense to the Imperial Redguard to spend her time cooped up in a small tent with nothing interesting to look at, at least not until she was sleepy.

Dark eyes roaming the campsite, Sirine made her way through the campfires and tents. At one point she caught sight of Meg snuggling up to someone who was not Jaraleet- Fjolte. Her eyebrow rose in clear surprise but she looked away after a small moment; it was none of her business who the younger Nord spent her time with, and clearly the two were more than comfortable. Besides, her gaze had soon fallen on a much more familiar figure in the distance, lounging on the grass in a fashion she was now used to seeing. She had seen him chatting with Latro before letting herself be distracted by Meg, and despite the awkward peace between the two formerly separate groups, it had been hard for her not to feel a little tension. Still, she had kept to her own affairs, knowing full where she was needed and where she wasn't.

Her lips turned up at the corners and stretched into a closed smile, eyes brightening with anticipation as she stepped lightly, keeping the sound of her footfalls to a minimum while carefully inching closer and closer. She was glad she had decided to only keep her dagger on her person for the moment; the lack of a clunky sword made for quieter movement.

Time to see how good your ears really are, Captain Greywake.

Zaveed had been lying on a soft patch of grass, his gaze skyward towards the twin moons, his eyes drinking in the crimson hue of Masser… Jode, he corrected himself, studying the craters and wondering if his people truly resided there. There was much to the Khajiiti faith and pantheon he didn’t understand, not truly, and he was painfully aware of how that ignorance was going to doom him to the Scuttling Void.

Was it too late in life to find the right path, to become illuminated in Jode’s light? He didn’t know, and with a sigh, he slumped down into the hands behind his head.

Maybe I’ll take up Daedra worship. They don’t seem too picky. he mused darkly in his own thoughts.

Suddenly, he sensed a figure and he smiled despite his gloomy thoughts. “I was wondering when you would come and find me, Beautiful.” he called out quietly, taking in her faintly earthy scent. She was upwind of him, and after spending long enough at her side, her cadence was familiar.

No one else would would have approached, regardless.

"Ah." Sirine let out a loud and exaggerated sigh as she paused in her steps, crossing her arms over her chest in a show of annoyance that wasn't truly there. "And here I thought I was making as little sound as an ant beneath a rock." Her arms dropped loosely to her sides as she started to walk once more, no longer taking care to keep quiet as she reached the khajiit man and lowered herself on the grass. She settled down in a cross legged fashion, sitting perpendicular to him.

Studying his face, Sirine couldn’t help but admire the bold black markings on the dark grey fur, though her eyes paused as they fell upon his ice blue eyes, noting they seemed a little lackluster despite his smile. "Hm..." Reaching out, she tapped his shoulder with her knuckles. "You seem in a contemplative mood, Zaveed. Have you forgotten that's Sevari's domain?"

“Contemplation is not brooding, Sirine. Am I not allowed to take a break from being flippant and brash?” he teased, glancing over to Sirine. “We’re quite a far way away from the sea now, I hope you don’t feel as if I’ve led you astray. We’ll get back sooner or later, I just thought you might like to scale a mountain or thirty for that once in a lifetime experience.” Zaveed chuckled. “Not because mountains aren’t abundant, but because who in their non-addled mind would do this more than once for fun?”

"No, no you aren't," she replied immediately, smiling despite herself. "Though that is quite fair, brooding is most definitely his thing. Please don't take his example there, one's enough." She laughed lightly before looking away from his face and to their surroundings instead. "I'm not going to say I don't feel the lack of salt water, but-" Waving a hand at the mountainous region they found themselves in, she continued. "-this has a beauty of its own." She looked back down at him, raising an eyebrow. "Is that what you've been thinking about? I hope you don't feel as if I would hold this journey against you. I knew full well it may take its time."

“I was mostly trying to keep the mood light; heavy thoughts upon my mind and all of that.” Zaveed’s smile faltered a bit and his gaze returned to the moons above. “When we met, when I was dying… that’s been on my mind of late. Much of my life has been spent simply trying to earn my right to live without much consideration on the toll it’s been reaping upon my soul. With Gregor what he is, it’s put that veil between life and death into a contrast I seldom took time to contemplate.” he sighed. “I’ll cease to be, and I don’t want that. I don’t know who my family was, and looking up there, I wonder if they’re looking back or if that’s just some skooma-born myth of a superstitious desert tribe. You know that’s what Khajiit means, yes? Khaj means desert, -iit means one’s location or occupation. Hence, of the desert. My heart’s always detested sands, it belongs to the sea, but isn’t that a bit backwards for what one such as myself should be?” he asked in a somewhat rambly contemplation.

Sirine was quiet, the smile on her face tapering to a more solemn look. Without saying anything she scooted a little forward, resting her hand on his arm, conscious of the fur beneath her palm. Hearing his words, she wondered how long it must have been before he'd had a chance to speak them out loud. No one expected deep, existential thoughts from him, that much she knew; despite it all they still mostly saw the khajiit man as an outsider among them, someone charming yet deadly. Had anyone taken the time to listen to him, to truly understand him and look beyond what he let show? She doubted it, and it made her heart twist painfully.

"Just because we're called something," she finally started, "or look some way, it doesn't mean that is all we’re meant to be. If that were the case, I would be sitting pretty in some beautiful manor in Gilane, staring at the city below from some gilded balcony, or perhaps in Anvil. Who knows. We are what we are, but that hardly means that is all we can be." Hesitating a moment, Sirine distracted herself, lightly running her fingers over his arm before speaking once more. "You know fair well my thoughts on the divines and my thoughts on family. If I'm being completely honest with you, I don't know where my soul will be headed once I'm gone... I only know that I want to live my life without any more regrets.

"Our paths, we had never been given a choice of which way we would be shoved forward. Despite that, we made what we could of life, for better or for worse, and when there was finally a chance, we trusted each other and took the path we believed was right. All of our choices have led us to this point in life where... well, look at us." She smiled down at him, squeezing his arm gently. "From a privateer and pirate to paving the path of becoming heroes who will hopefully save Tamriel."

“Respectfully, I know exactly where mine is going. I’ve seen it with my own eyes.” Zaveed responded as gently as he could, a tension in his voice. His gaze remained skyward. “The thing is, I’ve spent so long thinking about just making it day to day in a world of hard people that I never stopped to think what happens if I should fall. Morality never factored into my thoughts; losing simply wasn’t an option for me, so I didn’t let myself take many risks or chances where I didn’t think the odds were in my favour.” he shook his head. “I’m hardly hero material, Sirine. I might be helping people who might fit those britches some day, I’m doing this purely for selfish reasons. The Dwemer took everything from me, so I’m going to take everything right back. I’ve never apologized for what I am, but I will make them apologize for what they are.”

Sirine's brow furrowed as she looked down at the hollow of her lap. Not for the first time, and certainly not for the last, she felt resentment towards higher beings who thought it was their right to meddle in mortal lives in what she deemed was cruel and unfairness on their part, even though she knew her feelings would make absolutely no difference to anyone. She was reminded of her now dead friend- where was his soul? What about the rest of her crew? Her eyes closed; she needed a moment to compose herself before speaking up once more. "Is that truly selfish, Zaveed?" Her voice was barely a whisper as she looked down at the hand that was resting in her lap, barely able to see the healed rope burns around her wrist, a continuous reminder of her sordid past. "It sounds just about right to me. If someone's hurt you, I don't see what's wrong with giving them back what they deserve." It was hard to keep the bitter tone out of her voice, so she simply gave up on it.

“Well, heroes in tales don’t typically go seeking vengeance. There’s usually a lot more selfless actions and care about the innocent; I’m not the kind of person people tell kindly stories of.” Zaveed chuckled lightly, slumping down again. “It doesn’t much matter what’s right or wrong to me at this point, I’ve never known Jode’s light. Innocence as a youth cannot compare to the decades that came after where my survival turned into a life thriving off of other people’s misery. I don’t even know what moon sugar tastes like; I’m awful at being a Khajiit. And for that, I am destined to the Dark Behind the World.”

Sirine finally looked away from her lap and back at Zaveed, her expression undecipherable. It was true enough what he said; ultimately a person had to live up to the decisions they had made and bear the consequences. But... "Why did you help me out of that brothel Zaveed?" she finally asked, her eyes staring at him pointedly for a good moment before averting her gaze, looking instead at the night sky and the moons above them. "You could very well have taken whatever information I had and just left. In fact, I wouldn't have been surprised if you had, anyone else would have. Who in their right mind cares about a whore in a tavern?”

She paused to take a breath; her hand curled into a loose fist, bunching the cloth of her tunic in its grasp. “You didn't leave though. You did more than was expected of you. You bore so much trouble in the desert, and then at the oasis. I could see the way they all looked at you- yet you took it all gracefully. And then the prison, where you could have lost your life more than once. All I wanted was information, yet you gave me so much more for the pittance I did for you. Why? Was it all for the sake of vengeance against the dwemer?"

“A man’s only as good as his word. If I can’t keep my promises, sure I could have short-term gains at someone else’s expense, but then I earn a reputation as being untrustworthy, dishonourable. In our line of work, that’s something you cannot afford.” the Khajiit explained with a frown.

“But it’s true, I didn’t have to do more than find out where Bakih was as per our agreement. It just didn’t seem very fair or just that I found Marassa and leaving you without at least trying to see your own personal quest through… and after my, hm, ordeal, my perspectives on a number of things have shifted considerably. I had once frequented brothels without much consideration for the circumstances of the women working there, but maybe I was feeling vulnerable myself, but where you were in the Scorpion’s Song just had this air of pervasive darkness.” Zaveed said, sitting up and taking in Sirine with his icy eyes. “But you were someone who risked a lot to help me, expecting so little in turn. I’ll be honest, the idea of just leaving you in that shithole without at least getting you out of that life filled me with this sense of guilt and self-loathing I didn’t think possible.” he chuckled darkly. “As I said, vulnerable.”

"I would have been fine if it was simply vengeance," Sirine replied, her hand slackening as she let go of the cloth she'd had in her grasp. "But it makes me happy to hear that it was something more than just that." She sighed softly and cast a glance in his direction, meeting his eyes for a second before looking away yet again. "I never cared for the gods or what comes before life or after, but I know the same can't be said for others." She hesitated, unsure if what she wished to say was even worth saying at this moment. "It just seems unfair to me that your fate would be decided even before you leave this world."

“I haven’t led a good life, at least not one that could be considered particularly savory. Barely fending off death gives one a certain new perspective on things, yes?” Zaveed smiled, placing his hand over Sirine’s. “Maybe it’s too late for me to change one’s stars, but it doesn’t mean I’m going to sit about and wallow in futility. I’m going to use the time I have left to figure out the person I should have been all along. I’ve been thinking a lot of the boy I was… I wonder if he’s still in there.” he pondered.

"I used to wonder that about myself." When Sirine returned her gaze to Zaveed, she let it stay on him, this time refusing to look away. "After everything that was done to me, and everything I did to others, how could I ever go back to the person I once was?" Her hand turned beneath his, fingers wrapping around his. "I would have thought it impossible, but I'm not too sure about that anymore." Smiling, she squeezed his hand before continuing. "I think a person just needs a little encouragement from the right people to find that part of themselves they feel they've lost. I'm still searching... but you've shown me that it's worth the risk to trust again. I think if you truly wish to find that boy, you will."

"This is plenty encouraging," Zaveed said with a smile, squeezing back. "You know, it's rather droll and lonely doing this kind of search alone. I think I'd very much like it if you were with me when we do go on that journey… you've become a part of me that I know I cannot do without. I never realized how lonely the world can be without someone who sees you for who you really are, past the reputation and the name."

"You don't have to worry about that," Sirine replied, looking up at the sky once more, her smile still very apparent on her face. "From Gilane to the Alik'r to here in the Reach- if I'd wanted to leave, I would have done so much earlier than now." She remained quiet for a moment after, simply relishing the peace. "The truth is that I like this feeling, this belonging. After those months by myself, meeting you that day and waiting for your return was like..." She couldn't help but chuckle as she gave him a sidelong glance "... like catching the scent of saltwater even before you can see the waves. The thought of losing that- losing you- frankly it's a little scary."

She lifted her free hand to her hair, the slightest hint of awkwardness showing itself as she fiddled with her locks. "In simpler words, what I mean to say is that I am happy being here with you and I'm not planning on going anywhere."

“Belonging…” Zaveed repeated softly, placing a hand upon Sirine’s cheek, his gaze steady and his heart racing. “Maybe what we both needed was ground beneath our feet to ground our souls. I don’t know what tomorrow holds, Beautiful Sirine, but I know that you will be there and it doesn’t seem so frightening. I would very much like it if I woke up tomorrow and you were the first thing I laid eyes on.” he admitted.

Sirine's hand stilled in her hair, her face beneath his hand becoming flush. In the deep recesses of her mind she could remember feeling something similar to this a long, long time ago, when she was merely a silly child who knew nothing of the realities of the world and the darkness it contained. Her hand fell away from her hair and settled on Zaveed's, smile warm and eyes warmer still. "I guess being away from the sea isn't so bad after all," she murmured, a low laugh emitting from her as she closed her eyes, savouring the moment. When she finally opened them, dark brown eyes met icy blue ones, and it was difficult not to lean towards him. "Let's make that happen then, hm?"

Without another word or hesitation, Zaveed leaned in and gently kissed Sirine, the faintest and most teasing of brushing on their lips. He felt young again, and the woman before him made him feel like he imagined what most people experienced when they found a partner they connected with, who made them feel like better versions of themselves, that they wanted to dedicate themselves to. There had been plenty of women in Zaveed’s life, they had simply been one night acquaintances, two people mutually deciding to indulge their baser instincts or conduct a simple transaction. This felt like it meant something, like he earned it.

Zaveed was determined to make sure he continued to do so.

Sirine's grasp on his hand tightened, a smile on her lips as she returned the kiss. When was the last time she had enjoyed one? She couldn't remember, it had been much too long... but she was quite certain that this sweet and tender meeting of lips was something she would be remembering for a very long time indeed. After a moment, she pulled away the smallest bit, though she was still close enough that her nose almost touched his. Her eyes met his and her smile widened, feeling as if her heart would expand out of her chest.

"Come with me," she said, gently tugging on his hand as she stood up.

Zaveed rose with Sirine, holding her hand as they walked towards her tent, a surprisingly nervous flutter in Zaveed’s gut surprising him. Why that particular feeling, he wondered, looking around almost bashfully to see if anyone was watching. This was something they both wanted, a bond they shared, and Zaveed was daring and courageous to the point of legend. Women didn’t intimidate him, and he certainly knew his way around them… so why was this different?

When they arrived, Sirine held open the tent flap, ushering Zaveed inside. He sat on the sparse blankets, watching her come in as he removed his boots and weapon belt, leaving him just in his trousers and shirt. He smiled at her approach, holding his hand out for her to sit with him. “Sirine, I…” he said, feeling his heart pounding in his chest. “I do not wish to rush into anything, or to give you the impression that I’m after something more, ah… lustful.” he said with a nervous chuckle, running a hand across the back of his head, shaking it.

Taking hold of his hand, Sirine sat down before him on her knees. Her gaze was now tinged with wetness, and her free hand reached up to rub away the tears before settling lightly on his forearm. "You have no idea how happy it makes me to hear that," she replied softly, leaning forward to press her forehead against his shoulder. She couldn’t help but remember the last time she was this close, in tears, vulnerable, grieving. It was much of the same now, except there was no sadness, only warmth. "But I already knew this, Zaveed... no one else has ever treated me with as much honour and respect as you have. This- what we're feeling, I like it. This is why I feel if ever again I..." Her voice trailed before she continued, "... as long as you wish it, it will be you."

Lifting her head, she brought her hand to his face, resting it gently on his cheek as she looked into his eyes. Smiling, she leaned in and softly pressed her lips against his, lingering for a few seconds before speaking once more. “For now, let’s sleep, hm?”

Zaveed adjusted himself, laying down while gently pulling Sirine down with him. As they faced one another, he reached out gently, cradling her cheek and pressing his brow against hers, his eyes closing slowly. “And as long as you wish it, I will be by your side. The world doesn’t always make sense, and it can be cold and cruel, but I know that you are the fire that warms my heart and lights my way.” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “And when we wake up in the morrow, we will face whatever it holds together.”

Sum up your week in roleplaying in just 3 words

I am trying ^^;

Give Me Your Favorite Quote(s).

Vaba Do'Shurh'do- It is good to be brave

~ Khajiit Saying

Give Me Your Favorite Quote(s).

There's some good in this world, Mr. Frodo, and it's worth fighting for.

~ J. R. R. Tolkien

The Elder Scrolls: Vengeance of the Deep

Moonlight and Moonshine

by Shafty and Greenie

---

19th of Midyear, Early Morning

It was unclear how long Meg had been sitting out at the edge of the village by herself, staring off into the dark distance as she clutched a bottle of ale in her one hand, the other simply digging into the now cold sand. It was a relief she had remembered to bring her cloak along with her backpack, the latter now set to the side, one of the five various bottles of liquor empty- she hadn't been picky about what she had brought along, and she really didn't care whether the taste was appealing or not. As long as it made her numb. The already empty bottle of rum had been tossed to the side, looking forlorn and uncared for.

Eyes shifting from the shadows to the sky, Meg found herself gazing at Masser and Secunda as if it was the very first time. Her hand left the sand, grains spilling as she lifted her arm and reached up towards them. What was it that J'raij would call them? It took her a good moment to remember. “Jone an’ Jode.” Barely a whisper, her voice still managed to break the silence, and she found she didn't care for the sound of it. The lip of the bottle met her own and she took another swig before setting it down between the knees of her outstretched legs.

Still the faces showed themselves to her, no matter how much she tried to push them to the side. Her father, Marne, Sylven. The Greymane and the Battle-Born. The farmers she would work for. The Jarl in Dragonsreach. All dead. The streets of Whiterun had been painted red in blood with only automatons making their way through the corpses. Jaraleet in a room before a crying, tortured man, face blank as he prepared yet again to extract the truth. Gregor and an army of undead ruthlessly killing everyone in their sight. Her nightmare plagued her, even as her eyes remained open. And then there was the conversation when she had just been about to leave her tent. Once more she felt the stinging in her eyes, the lump in her throat. She hurt him, hadn't she?

“Fuck it all.” She brought the bottle up again and took another gulp.

Sevari plopped himself down next to Meg, uncaring if she wanted company or not. If she wished to be alone, she could scream it in his face and he’d move on no more damaged than he came. But there was no screaming, not even any looking at each other. The revelation from the night before still weighed heavy on Sevari’s conscience, pressing him down harder than anybody he had ever killed. In a way, he killed Latro, or whatever semblance of peace the young man was trying to cling onto before he crashed into his life like a bull.

He brought his bottle to his lip and tipped it back, closing his eyes, only to find it dry. He grunted, tossing the bottle to the side and he took the fuller one from Meg’s hand, not offering but not protesting. He gulped down the ale and handed it back, wiping his mouth off on his forearm. “Can’t sleep.” It wasn’t a question, or an explanation of why he’d come, it was just a statement. He lit a cigar, puffed on it a bit, and added a harsh whisper, “Can’t ever fucking sleep.”

Blinking in surprise at the sudden appearance of the Ohmes-Raht Khajiit, Meg was barely able to register when the bottle had left her hand and when it returned. She vaguely wondered if it was a khajiiti thing to be so quiet and sneaky, despite how large he was in comparison to the others she'd seen in her years. The Nord hadn't expected company as she drank herself to a near death, but she wasn't about to shoo him away either; she didn't quite have the mind for that right now. Pressing the bottle to her lips once more, Meg took a long gulp before setting in next to her, digging the bottle down in the sand so it stayed put while still in reach of Sevari.

"See things y'don' wanna?" she muttered after a moment of silence. Finally turning her head his way, Meg was able to make out his features due to the light of the moons, and it was clear he was as burdened as she felt, though what might be bothering him she had no way of knowing. "Or... jus' like tha'?" Her teeth pressed against each other, lips pulled tightly as she looked back to the distant sea of dunes. It seemed whatever reprieve had been sent their way after the prison break was long gone.

“Seen a lot.” He nodded, puffing on his cigar again and the smoke was coming from a Bosmer village near the southwestern coast. Him and his boys were investigating rumors of what the Thalmor and their sympathizers were up to in the jungles and- “What about you? I’ve never seen you so dour.”

"Me?" For a moment Meg felt a hint of panic and perhaps even a little dread, but it seemed to leave as soon as it came. What was the need to hide what she felt anymore? Everything she thought she knew was cracked and broken- there was no need to pretend to be happy. "Bad dreams..." She bit down on her lip, hard enough that it was painful though the skin didn't break. "Didja know... the Dwemer're in Skyrim too? I didn'."

A harsh breath left her lips and her hand tightened around the neck of the bottle she had reached out to drink from again. "I saw 'em, Pa, my family, Whiterun... all dead, like in Imperial city." She stopped and pulled at the bottle that she had only just set into the sand, and in no time it was empty. "Shit." Her breaths were coming quickly and she needed relief. Tossing the now useless thing to the side without a thought, she reached for her pack and grabbed onto the first drink her hands fell on, still unsure of what it was. "I saw him... Jaraleet... doin' wha' he does t’get answers. I saw Gregor..." She stopped, struggling to open the bottle, unable to continue with her words.

“I knew.” He said, to answer Meg’s question about the Dwemer and grabbed the bottle, gently taking it from her struggling hands. “I knew about Jaraleet too. A man sticks to what he does best. It’s a rough world, it makes rough men.”

He grunted as he popped the cork free and handed it to Meg, “If it is any consolation,” he began, sighing with the words because he knew it wouldn’t be, “He didn’t choose it.”

At least it wasn’t for him. He never chose any of it. But somewhere along the line, he decided to start. “If you think Jaraleet is a bad man, Meg, I’m sorry. I’m sure there’s plenty orphans that think the same of me.” Sevari looked out over the dunes, moonlit and lifeless. Peaceful like a sleep without dreams. “The sad truth of it all is that the world needs people like me and Jaraleet.”

"I- I don' think he's a bad man! I don' think you're a bad man! I don'- I... I dunno wha' t'think." Her hand was shaking as she held the bottle tightly, eyes now wet, once again remembering the conversation she'd had before stumbling out here. Sniffling, she took a gulp of the drink, eyes shutting tightly against the taste- she'd never had something that tasted so strong before. Maybe it would help numb the pain, whatever it was.

"He told me tonight. Of all nights... tonight. Why... why? An'- an’ then he said..." She shook her head before stuffing the bottle in the sand. Unable to stop herself, she pulled her knees up under her chin and started rocking. "I know I ain' the best, smartest… I don’ talk fancy, I know I do stupid shit. Jus'..." She sniffled again and roughly wiped her eyes. "I'm not a fuckin' child. Why didn' he just tell me? Why lie?" Her mouth trembled as she turned to face the khajiit man. Her eyes were still wet yet demanding. “Why didn’ you lie?”

“Because, I know what I am.” Sevari said, he patted Meg’s hand, “Judgement does not bother me until it comes from the Gods themselves.”

"I wouldn've judged," Meg replied plaintively, having a hard time not spilling her tears and eventually just giving up, the hot trails of salty water quickly cooling down in the cold desert night. Once more she rocked back and forth, her bottle nestled against her after she was done taking a rather large swig. "I never did, no' even when I was a li'l kid. Not for J'raij, not Jaraleet, not you..." She sniffled, shaking her head. "Maybe tha's why y'all think I'm stupid." Her eyes narrowed and she actually laughed, though it lacked humour and was filled with disgust instead. Was that was Gregor was thinking the night she tried to ask him if he'd been the one to kill Nblec? That she was just a stupid little girl? He sure wasn’ wrong.

"Didju know Gregor was a necromancer too? Ya seem y'know everythin'. Jaraleet sure as fuck did."

“He did.” Sevari nodded, “I did. I was going to kill him in the prison. I was going to blow the back of his head out and leave his dark knowledge all over the wall behind him.”

Sevari sighed, eyes closed as he took the bottle and swigged from it, placing it back between him and Meg. He looked at her and it pained him to know she felt that way about herself. The way she reminded him so much of La’Vashara only laid itself over the pain and added to the crushing grip around his chest. “Meg, look at me.” He said softly, laying a hand on her shoulder. When her wet, red eyes were on his, he laid a hand on her other shoulder, “Don’t you ever call yourself stupid for not holding judgement.”

He squeezed her shoulders lightly and carefully pulled her to him. As much as he would never admit it, the hug was for him too.

It was hard not to start crying some more, and even though a very faint part of her mind was telling her to toughen up and stop being such a baby, Meg refused to listen to it, shoulders shaking and breath heaving, sniffles continuous as she simply let out the torrent of drunken sorrow on the poor man in front of her. In hindsight she would end up hating herself for seeming so weak, but at the moment she felt exactly that. The barriers she had put up while talking to Jaraleet had cracked with drink and were now crumbling with Sevari's blunt words.

She finally managed to speak, though she didn't move away from the hug, unwilling to lose this surprising yet welcomed comfort. "Why didn' ya just do it then? Kill him?"

He shrugged, “As stupid and unbelievable as it sounds,” he shook his head, “No one let me.”

“But, no, Meg. You are not stupid, you are kind, tolerant, loving, curious,” he squeezed his arms around her just a hair for a second, “Everything I’m not. Everything I can never be now, because it’s too late. You’re all of that, but you’re not stupid.”

“Who called you stupid, made you feel like this?” He asked, a fatherly tone to his voice and a levity that was working itself to death to be heard in his voice, “I’ll punch them. Or I’ll hold them still while you do.”

A watery laugh escaped Meg and she finally looked up, wiping at her face as she did. "No one, no' really. Jus' kinda feels like it sometimes, y'know. An' maybe I make it too easy for others t'think tha'." She sighed softly and gulped some more of the strong alcohol, now getting used to the taste and enjoying the stinging sensation. She was feeling a little more peaceful now, relaxed even. Perhaps it was just the effect of all the alcohol now in her? "I don' think it's too late for ya, y'know? It's only too late when yer dead. Y'ain' dead yet." She paused and blinked, head tilted as she struggled to think. "He's dead now though... kinda ish? Liches are dead, righ'?" She raised her free hand. "No- wait- undead. Tha's the word."

The memory of his face made her shudder, and once again she lifted the bottle to her lips.

“He’s what?” Sevari’s voice came harsh and quiet. He tensed, feeling his heart skip a beat when he heard what Meg had said.

Unable to help herself when she heard the change in his voice, she found herself becoming rather still before speaking, her own voice rather small with a hint of trepidation. “He- uhm… did- did I say somethin’ wrong?”

“He’s…” he unfolded his arms from Meg and held her across from him, his brow cocked, “He’s a lich?”

Meg's mouth felt rather dry- she gulped a little before nodding, eyeing the large Khajiit to see if she was the one who was earning his ire. “I didn’ know anythin’ 'bout it 'til t'night!” Her hands fell away from the bottle for a second and she nearly dropped the liquid all over herself, barely managing to grab onto it again. “Nec- nercer- necromancer was bad 'nough, but he's a fuckin’ lich now.” Once more she shuddered and a look of fear crossed over her features, though it was two fold- she was wondering if she was not supposed to have told Sevari or something.

Well, she'd already blathered, there was no point stopping now. “He looked… dead. Like drained. An’, he was actin’ all diff. Like he reg-regretted everythin’ he'd done.” She paused to whet her whistle once more before continuing. “Jude an’ Gaius wan’ him gone. Gaius wan's him gone gone, dead. Erryone else said he gotta stay… me too.” The last part came out rather small once again. “I didn’ know wha’ t'say.” Her uncertainty was back, hands shaking as she held the bottle in her lap, looking down at it. Was she supposed to have said anything like this to him or not? He was part of the group, right?

“Good fucking Gods…” Sevari sat back on his elbows, looking gape-mouthed at the stars. How could this have happened without him knowing? How could he have let Gregor achieve this? He was more dangerous now than ever. “You stay away from him, Meg. Don’t even cast an eye his direction. If he even looks at you, you tell me and Jaraleet. You understand?”

Meg’s head slumped downward, chin pressed against her chest. He seemed… she didn’t know if it was fear or something else. Her hands were still clutching the bottle but she hadn’t taken a sip since she blurted out Gregor’s secret. “He didn’... seem dangerous though…” She blinked and peeked at Sevari, hoping to maybe reassure the khajiit man… or perhaps she was simply trying to reassure herself. “He kinda seemed… sad? I dunno… I dun think he’s gonna be hurtin’ anyone… ‘sides… even if I said anythin’ t’Jaraleet, they’re frien’s. He… he [i]knew from ‘fore, didn’ tell me, didn’ tell no one. Kinda feel bad, y’know? Like I wasn’ trusted or sommat.” Now she brought the bottle to her lips, tilting her head back as she drank deeply, ignoring the little that escaped the sides of her mouth, lettin them trickle down her chin to splash on her shirt.

“Meg,” Sevari said, watching her quaff her drink, “Meg.”

He frowned deeply and tipped the bottle down from her lips, prying her fingers away from it until he had it in his own hands, “Meg, stop with that. It’s not going to fix anything. You might pass out drunker than shit for any amount of time, but trust me, whatever demons you have weighing you down are going to be waiting patiently when you wake up.”

“Tell me what I can do.” Sevari said, “Anything.”

For a second Meg returned the frown, but then her bottom lip trembled and she looked to her empty lap, hands shaking as she dropped them to fill the hollow. She shook her head, once more feeling water fill up in her eyes and trickle down her face, the hot tears cooling down in the desert night air. "I dunno," she finally replied, voice breaking so that she stopped herself from saying anything more beyond those two words. What he said was true, but... She brought a hand up to her cheeks and wiped at them, though it did little more than wet the rest of her face. There was so much that didn't make sense to her even if it seemed clear to the rest of the world.

"Hurts righ' here," she muttered after a moment, rubbing a fist at where her heart lay beneath her clothes and flesh. "How d'ya make tha' go 'way then? Knowin' the truth didn' help shit."

Sevari shook his head, “Never did.” He said lamely, almost apologetic, “Never will, maybe. The truth needs to be known though. There’s no sense in laboring under a smiling lie if it means forsaking who you are or the truth of your circumstances.”

“Gregor was on this path far before we met him and this was going to happen whether he was with us or not.” Sevari frowned, taking a hypocritical swig from the bottle before cocking his arm back and sending the bottle sailing far down the dunes. “We’re going to have to deal with it. Jaraleet knew, I knew. But there wouldn’t be any good coming from letting the news spread like fire or we’d all be charred.”

“Accept things as they are, Meg,” Sevari said firmly, looking at her, “But never decide that they have to be that way always. Always look forward, if life is a battle then hardship is the enemy. Be a step ahead. Two steps ahead. And when you’re cornered with nowhere to go and shit piles up,”

Sevari frowned, “Get a fucking shovel. It’s good to be brave, Meg. If life’s a battle, it’s not about good or bad. It’s wrong or right. It’s right to win.” Sevari chuckled at his own stupid words and it felt as if he was partly saying them to himself. “Fuck losing.”

"Fuck losin’," she repeated. Taking a breath and letting it out slowly, her drunk mind was trying and failing to analyze her thoughts. What was winning and what was losing in this current situation, with everyone upset and unable to trust the other person? What more was hidden that would eventually come out to the surface? She herself was finding more solace in the company of bottles and someone she had previously thought had hated her than with her own companions of two months.

Meg brought her hands up to her face, palms pressed tightly against her closed eyes, fingers digging into her dark hair and pressing into her scalp. She was out of tears for the time being, feeling hollow and cried out. It's good to be brave. Maybe if she kept reminding herself, she would eventually be brave. There had to be something good that came out of this, otherwise… No, there has t’be. She’d have to dig around to find it perhaps, but maybe that was something worthy. She wanted to win, yes, but she also wanted good… good that was something real and not just falsity and lies.

Eventually she spoke up, though her eyes remained hidden behind her hands. "Will y'be comin' t'Skyrim with us?"

Sevari cleared his throat and shifted where he sat, sniffing, “What I mean to say, Meg, is that wallowing like this won’t solve this. You have nothing to prove to anybody, you proved it to me that you’re willing to die for your friends when I had to snatch you and that bleeding Argonian idiot off the Gilane streets.” He smiled at Meg, “You only have yourself to prove yourself to. And, yes, I’m going to Skyrim. I have to see if there’s anybody left in… those I know.”

“Aye…” she replied after a moment, letting her hands slide down from her face to land in her lap once more. She took another deep breath and let it out, nodding to his words even though she still looked rather miserable and lost. “I'mma havta see how t'get 'bout doin’ that.” She bit down on her bottom lip for a moment before allowing herself a weak smile in his direction. “Glad you'll be comin’ along, I like talkin’ to ya.” She hesitated for the smallest moment before tottering up on her knees and reaching over, giving the Ohmes-Raht a heartfelt if somewhat wet and clumsy hug.

Sevari snorted softly, wrapping his arm around the drunk Nord he’d somehow come to have a kinship with. “If you need help getting about to doing that all you need is ask, Meg.” He patted her on the shoulder before writhing about in her arms to face her, holding her out in front of him, “But if you lose me in this godsdamn fool’s errand we’ve all taken on, and gods forbid have only Jaraleet with you, you keep those words close.”

He smiled at her, “It is good to be brave. Now, come on,” he got to his feet, gently pulling Meg up with him and holding her still when she leaned a tad too far to the left, then the right as he held her steady, “We’ve got some sleep to catch up on.”

“Aye, aye,” Meg mumbled in agreement, allowing herself to be steadied; even in her drunken state she knew full well that she was near toppling over and landing on her face. She managed to grab her pack with one hand as she clutched at Sevari with her other one. “Thankies for… er… all.” She attempted to wave her hand to motion towards anything but failed, hand weighed down by the pack she was holding and the bottles still inside. “Good t'be brave… aye.”

That would be for tomorrow though, when she would be feeling the consequences of tonight's overindulgence. For now sleep beckoned, and a heavy lidded Meg was more than happy to enter its embrace.

Topic of the Day/Week/Whatever

Fantasy (low or high) has always been my favourite genre to write, whether in a roleplay or in general. I just like the idea of different worlds, creatures, magic, things that are not directly related to real life, something that fuels the imagination.

In that sense, slice of life is probably my least favourite genre to write. It becomes mundane quite quickly and, well, I'm already living life ;D I want something more from my entertainment.

The Elder Scrolls: Vengeance of the Deep

A New Friend

---

13th Sun's Height 4E208, Evening

If it had merely been a year ago, Megana knew quite well that she would have been grumbling about the warmer weather of Sun's Height. However, this was a cool blessing now that they no longer had to contend with the Alik'r desert. There were many who she could clearly tell were cold, and even she had to wear her old dark clock over her new grey and green trimmed tunic, along with the scarf she had been gifted. Still, this was a boon and she wasn't going to complain. The air smelled and felt familiar, but it wasn't just that... it was knowing she was finally back home. The underlying stress and fear for her family's fate was still there, but something about being back in her homeland was rekindling a fire in her that had flickered to a mere ember in the last couple of months. Falkreath itself had been a place she frequented in her travels with J'raij, but the same could not be with where she found herself. As she had told Sevari weeks ago, she wasn't normally the sort to run headfirst into trouble, and the Reach spelled all sorts of that.

Raising her head up towards the sky, the Nord woman took a deep breath and smile, enjoying the scent in the air. Letting out a happy sigh, she looked around at her companions who were in various stages of unpacking and putting up tents. Righ', 'nough dawdlin' an' time t'help out. Sleeping under the stars wasn't something new to her, but she was sure someone else would be happy enough to spend the night in something she helped put up. Pushing her bangs away from her face and behind her ears, she looked around to see if she could find anyone-

"Well you're certainly looking chipper." The voice was a now familiar one around the camp, enough that Megana knew it was Sirine even before she looked her way. Like most of the others, the Imperial Redguard seemed affected by the cooler temperatures, a short dark cloak around her shoulder, the hood pulled a little over her head, though not quite enough to hide her hair, which seemed to have grown the slightest bit since it had been trimmed. It seemed she too was now sporting different clothes, a dark green tunic over a pair of no nonsense woolen pants, tucked in a pair of dark boots. A glint at her throat showed the gold coin that Meg had spotted more than once; it always had her wondering why someone would ruin a good and proper coin that could have been spent; now it was useless. Maybe it was a rich person thing?

She looked away from the coin, green eyes meeting Sirine's brown ones. While she wouldn't necessarily call the former pirate a friend, she was certainly an ally now and had been doing her best to help the group during their journey north. Meg still found herself intimidated by the woman, but it had lessened in the passing days, and seeing Sirine in a much milder state of mind than when she had first come to them put the Nord a little at ease. "Yer righ'," she agreed with a grin, walking over to the woman. Without asking she grabbed a few of the tent poles that were laying about on the ground.

"Bein' here's like..." As she worked to help Sirine, who seemed surprised but more than happy with the help, Meg found herself latching onto a simile that anyone in their group could understand. "... like drinkin' water after bein' parched in the desert. It's nice bein' back... well, home, y'know? I mean, this here ain' exactly where I lived, but... ya get what I mean?"

"Hm, I do believe I can understand the sentiments." Meg looked up at the other woman who had a small smile on her face. It wasn't quite the grin Meg would see Sirine break into around Zaveed and Sevari- something that had completely changed Meg's perception of the 'stern and scary' former pirate- but it was enough to make her feel further comfortable with the woman.

"What 'bout you?" she decided to ask after a few minutes, fueled by her confidence. "What's home for ya?"

There was a stifled laugh before Sirine spoke. "What, I haven't given you my whole 'the sea is my home' speech? Poor thing, you're missing out."

"I though' that was jus', like, somethin' sea people liked t'say," Meg admitted after a moment, rubbing her nose sheepishly.

"Oh, heh, it certainly is. Goodness knows Zaveed and I have spouted that line plenty of times... but the sentiment remains. You seem comfortable here, it shows clearly to a pair of eyes that aren't your own. Me on the other hand..." She gestured at Meg who seemed very much at ease with setting up a tent that wasn't her own. "The opposite. The only time I was on land for more than a couple of weeks before this dwemer problem was when I was a child, a few years in Gilane. Even then it was the last place I wished to be. The stillness of the ground left much to be wanted after the rocking of the sea."

"Tha' made me throw up more 'an once," Meg replied, her expression perturbed as she tried to imagine any sort of ease on a ship. "When we got to Gilane, I was sure I was never gonna be anythin' but green faced like an orc. No offence t'orcs. Jus', how can y'like your tum goin' up an' down in all ways?"

Sirine couldn't help but laugh out loud now, making no effort to hide her amusement. "You get used to it, landlubber. In my case, my mother gave birth to me on a ship, so I had no choice in the matter. It’s almost a weakness, truth be told. Sleep comes much more easily when I can hear water in the distance.”

“The desert musta been hard for ya then.”

“You have no idea,” Sirine replied, the dryness in her voice easy to hear. “Then again, perhaps you do, seeing you so full of life now.”

Meg couldn’t help but grin once more, her face reddening at the former pirate’s words. “Y’think so?” She hadn’t realized her joy at returning to the land of her birth would be so noticeable.

“It’s as easy to see as this damn cold is to feel.” Her voice was dryer still, but the look in her eyes was soft. “Don’t feel embarrassed or put on the spot. It’s not a bad thing. There’s a certain strength in being able to show that which you feel. If anything, I think I might find myself a little envious of you.”

“But yer strong,” Meg argued. Nearly finished with her self imposed task, she paused in her work to stand straight and cross her arms over her chest. “Y’can fight with the toughest, y’saved yer brother from the prison-”

“True, but not by myself. Like I said, strength comes in different forms, and just because I know one way doesn’t mean I know it all. Needing others may seem weak but… a single finger is weaker than five forming a fist, no? I had my friends, they made me stronger. Perhaps one day I shall learn the strength you possess.” Sirine smiled once more, and Meg watched her fiddle with the coin around her neck not for the first time.

“Why’d y’wear that coin?” she asked curiously, unable to help herself.

For a moment Sirine seemed surprised and even a little abashed; Meg was about to tell her it was fine if she didn’t reply, but the Imperial Redguard spoke up. “It reminds me that trust and faith in the right person is worth the risk.” She was quiet for a good while after that, enough that the Nord was surprised when she continued to speak. “And what of that amulet of Mara peeking from beneath that pretty scarf?” The quiet moment of contemplation was gone and Meg could see the teasing look on the other woman’s face. “Who’s the lucky lad?”

“Er… no one really.” She scratched the back of her neck, feeling awkward. “It’s a reminder too, of one of m’close friends. I used t’travel round an’ go treasure huntin’ with him. Met him when I was a kid in Riften…” She shrugged a shoulder as she lifted up the amulet to look at it, fingers almost stroking it. “J’raij was a thief bu’ so was I, though I didn’ know tha’ ‘bout him ‘til I met him again once I was grown an’ on my own. He gave this t’me on one’ve our expeditions, tol’ me t’give it t’someone…”

“You haven’t though.” Sirine pointed out the obvious, though her tone was uncharacteristically gentle. Meg looked up when she felt a hand on her shoulder, letting the amulet slip from her fingers as she found a pair of sympathetic dark eyes looking into her own. “You loved him, didn’t you? And I’m willing to bet he’s now…” There was a slight pause.

“He’s dead,” Meg supplied, looking down at her boots, scuffing the ground with one until it kicked at a pebble that flew a little distance away.

“My condolences,” Sirine replied. The hand on Meg’s shoulder squeezed before releasing her. “I can sympathize, I’ve felt that pain, though it has been a long time since I’ve loved a person. Loss though… I think most of us here are a little too familiar with that, hm? That’s the way of the world we live in. People come and go like the changing of the tides. Well… most people. Some stay, some we follow… those we grow close to.”

“Tha’s this group for me.” The somber look on Meg’s face shifted slightly, making place for a little positivity. “At least, a few of the people here, anyway.”

“Anyone you’d be willing to give an amulet of Mara too?”

Meg smiled but shook her head. “No’ this one. This one ain’ for tha’ no more. ‘Sides… I think I still gotta whole lot t’learn bout love.”

“It’s a lifelong process,” Sirine replied, though she then waved her hand dismissively. “But don’t take my word for it. I’m by no means an expert on that field of life.”

It didn’t take much longer for Meg to finish setting up the tent with Sirine helping out in the end. She couldn’t help but still feel a little awkward around what felt like a much more experienced woman, even when it was obvious the she was more learned in some thing than the former pirate was. “There we go,” she said, looking at her handiwork. “All done, y’should be fine.”

“I appreciate the aid,” Sirine returned, smiling at the younger woman. She grabbed her bedroll and tossed it inside before picking up her backpack next. This she was rather careful with, setting it inside in a much more gentle fashion before ducking inside. “Come along.”

Meg blinked, not having expected an invitation to enter; she hesitated for a second before following inside, where she found Sirine was loosening the drawstrings of her backpack and fiddling about inside. Not feeling it was polite to watch, she looked away at the sparse area, admiring her handiwork. “Yer brother,” she started after a moment, “he didn’ come with us.”

“No, he didn’t,” Sirine agreed. The sound of rummaging through the pack ceased and when Meg looked over, she saw the other woman was looking at nothing in particular, eyes lowered and hands slack. “He decided to stay with the Alik’r village to recuperate, and from there, wherever the winds take him.”

“Jus’ seems…” Meg hesitated, wondering if she should continue.

“Go on.” Sirine’s eyebrow rose, waiting. “I don’t bite, usually.”

“Well…” Her voice trailed before she finally continued in a hurry. “Jus’, ya went through so much t’find him an’ save him, but now yer here an’ he’s there an’... well, would’n y’both wanna be together?”

“Ah.” Sirine’s smile was tinged with sadness. “Sometimes when you love someone, when you care about them, you have to learn to let them go as well. Easier said than done.” Meg watched as the Imperial Redguard’s hands tightened around the lip of the backpack. “There are still times I wish I’d had the courage to push him out of the nest sooner than this- all of the pain he’d had to endure…” She shook her head quickly, as if dispelling her thoughts. “Whatever happened, happened and lead me to this moment.”

“The gods’re somethin’ tricky in the way they do thing,” Meg commented.

“Fuck them,” Sirine replied simply, her hands loosening their grip before once more fiddling about inside once more. “I don’t want to give them credit for the paths I’ve taken. My choices were mine, the good times, the trying times, the hellish times. And even now, whatever peace I have found… it’s due to my choice, not theirs.” Meg watched as the former pirate pulled out a couple of rolls of paper first, and then two wooden quills along with a pot of ink. “My apologies for those blasphemous words.” A chuckle escaped Sirine. “I can tell by the look on your face you don’t quite agree, and that’s fine. We all have our little biases for and against.

“Enough of that though.” Sirine grabbed the items that she had taken out and stood up, approaching Meg, who was looking at her with curiosity and barely hidden apprehension. “I noticed on the way here that you like to draw out maps as well as write, which I have to commend. Writing is something I have indulged in since I was a child and believe me, it helps at times to calm oneself down, simply let your thoughts flow.” She pressed a roll of paper into Meg’s hand before slipping in a quill as well as the inkpot. “However, your writing is, for the lack of a better word, atrocious.”

The Nord woman sputtered, especially when Sirine let loose a chuckle. “It doesn’t have to remain that way,” the former pirate added once she had finished displaying her amusement. “I can help you with your writing and spelling, if you wish. I taught my little brother, Bakih, when we were both quite young, as well as other crewmates and underlings of mine. If someone was part of my crew, I wanted them to be literate. That and… well, I quite enjoy teaching. So, what-”

“That’d be great!” Meg’s look of shock and then embarrassment was replaced by surprised enthusiasm, eyes shining as she looked from Sirine to the paper, eyes shifting back and forth. “That’s- thankies!” Without thinking about it, the Nord woman reached out, wrapping her arms around a very shocked Sirine, giving her a hug that was very much not expected, seeing how the former pirate was standing as stiff as a board, a weak laugh escaping her as she finally extracted herself from the embrace.

“Goodness, you remind me of… well, never mind that now.” A little flushed but seeming happy, Sirine nodded at Meg. “First lesson, don’t scrunch the paper like that in your fist. Treat your supplies with respect. Second lesson will have to wait as I’m sure there are more important tasks to partake in at the moment. Dawn however is the best time to find me.” She smiled, still not a grin but a much more at ease smile than Meg had ever seen her deliver. “I look forward to this.”

“Aye, me too!” Meg grinned in return, loosening her grip on the roll of paper as instructed while taking care to hold the quill and inkpot properly. “Thanks so much, I’mma make sure t’come tomorrow morn!”

“Mhm,” Sirine replied, finding it hard to keep the smile off her face. It was strange how something so small and almost petty made the Nord woman glow like Magnus itself was shining down on her. Are you really one to think such things, Sirine? Who is wearing what is nestled against your throat? “On your way then, student of mine.” She made shooing motions with her hand.

The warm and wholesome feeling remained even as Megana left her tent. There was something to be said about doing things for others without wanting anything in return. Was this how Zaveed had felt when helping her? She would have to ask him, though she expected nothing more than a teasing non reply slathered with charm in return.

For the time being though, she settled down to write a few notes herself, making good on what she had told Meg.

“It seems I have made a new friend.”

Sum up your week in roleplaying in just 3 words

I wrote something :D