Ana sat in her room, seated on her cot. Her robes were nearby, neatly folded in a pile. She clad in a simple set of trousers and a sleeveless tunic. The room was especially dark with the night overhead, but a single speck of brightness penetrated the gloom. Within her closed palms was a single, small flame, which she held near her face. It was warm, though she figured it would be hot enough to burn any one else at this proximity. She gently stroked the flames, which wrapped around her fingers as they passed over, and whispered, "We are almost there." A little smile came over her face, and she allowed the flame to grow until it was near the size of her fist. Holding it just above her palm, she stood and made her way to the small desk at the other side of the room.
It had been a long time since she'd been somewhere cool. Her exodus from Skyrim had not been an easy one, nor one she had wanted to undertake. But silly things like "the law" was apparently taken into consideration with prisoners of war, and so what she had done to the Stormcloaks would have landed her in jail for far longer than she cared to be in. And so she headed south, taking the route through the Rift. It was fairly easy to avoid detection, so long as she kept her robes put away and her face mostly covered. Even in Cyrodiil, there weren't nearly as many Legionnaires as there should have been, and so getting to Elsweyr was far easier than it should have been.
But the damn Legion, they were persistent. Once everything was finished in Skyrim, they put out wanted posters for her, stretching even down to her little hiding spot in the desert. After wading through piles of mercenaries and bounty hunters, and more than a few Legionnaires given leave to come for her, she was able to make it to a boat on the way to Vvardenfell, far out of everyone's jurisdiction. At least, she hoped.
She sat at the desk for a while, playing with the fire, and other little fires she summoned up. In the end, she managed to get about two hours of sleep before someone came around to wake them for departure from the ship. Pulling on the robes, them looking like a slimmed down version of the robes Morrowind temple priests wore, she made her way to the deck, a silver destruction staff in her hand. She gazed over the shore, standing near a Dunmer, and followed uncomfortably behind her as they and the others made their way off into Seyda Neen. Not the best looking place, she thought to herself, and began to move around the town. She needed to find a way to get deeper in, and find somewhere to stay away from the shore.
Vash