Niko felt an all-too familiar pang by his heart at the dark look the woman had shot him. He himself, was not racist. Never in his life had he discriminated someone for something they could not control – whether it be upbringing, race, or gender. But he was used to receiving glares, insults, or even violence because he was a Nord. Living in Cyrodiil as a Nord, both he and his Father had been looked down upon by many other races. Certain Imperials thought them as idiotic dogs and Thalmor passing through wouldn’t hesitate to check their home for Talos worship. Not that they ever found anything – their family hid their worship well enough. But never had Niko branded an entire race over something a certain group of them did; neither did Leo, but that was honestly because he never thought too much on the subject. Even when moving to Skyrim, Leo had been mistrusted by plenty of Nords – but he never noticed, too immersed in his work. On top of this discomfort, Niko felt almost saddened by this woman’s reaction. A Snow Elf – and he knew she was a Snow Elf; he wasn’t fooled – who was most likely thousands of years old, still had discrimination in her mind. He was aware of the history of the Falmer; thanks to his years of study of the Dwemer, the Falmer had fallen into his books and whatnot with ease – so he knew of the atrocities that her race had endured. Most of them from the Man races; most of them from the Nords. But the fact that someone with so much age and experience could still distrust – or perhaps even hate – someone for their race was saddening. Rather than mentioning this, he instead hooked the Falmer dagger (He had seen similar designs in weapons found in Dwemer ruins he had sought out prior to now – she was most definitely a Snow Elf, in his opinion) onto his own belt, and looked back at her own belt. On it were various pouches, one of which was obviously a book of some sort, wrapped in hide and suspended from her belt. He didn’t touch it – a book couldn’t cause much damage, and he had no interest of taking it from her. It obviously had some emotional or monetary wealth if she had it with her. Listening to what both Dreet-Na and Valerion had said, Niko was silent for a moment, mulling it over. He had her daggers, Valerion her bow. She could use magic, but what would she gain by attacking them now? Taking his own dagger in hand – his emergency one tucked in his boot – he cut the woman’s bonds at both ankle and wrist, gathering up the rope and looking back into her blue eyes. If she planned on sticking around – which he hoped she would – he would like to prove that he wasn’t one of these ‘racist Nords’ she feared so much. “We’ll return your weapons to you in the morning – you’re free to sleep by the fire with us, and leave after that.” He said, still crouching on the balls of his feet and was just about eye-level with her. She looked to be just shorter than himself, by a good few inches. She certainly had the height of an Altmer, that was certain. “And we’ve got more than enough food for tonight, if you’re hungry...” He paused, realizing he hadn’t even asked her name. He couldn’t help but smile as a thought drifted back into his mind as his parents talked to him about various manners – and somehow, his Mother had worked the possibilities of courting into the conversation as well - from back in his youth. [i]“First thing! If you meet someone – especially a girl – ask them their name. And remember it. There’s nothing more embarrassing than forgetting someone’s name.”[/i] “Ah, excuse me. What was your name?” He added politely, still smiling. ------------------------------- Roze had listened in curiously alongside Ildrun, her smile peaking as she overheard something most interesting. “Huh... that’s why.” She murmured, glancing at Ildrun. “She’s a Snow Elf!” [b]”A Snow Elf?![/b] Leo spoke up suddenly and loudly, earning a swift slap on the leg from Roze and a ‘shush!’. From what she had heard, Roze doubted that this new girl wanted her existence getting out. Nor did she want some Imperial idiot fawning over her and asking endless questions about her people. “She must be really lonely.” Rozalia muttered, and then stood up as the smell of cooked meat wafted over her. “Hopefully she stays. Anyway, I’ll bring some food over. Leo, how about you speak to Ildrun without flirting?” She suggested brightly, before walking over to Rawlith, standing close and tapping him on his arm. “Nice job on stopping an early execution.” She murmured with a grin, glancing at Valerion, who was still glaring – or she assumed he was glaring; the guy hardly ever took that helmet of his off – at their captive. She then turned her gaze to the spit over the fire, where the ribs were cooking. Mmm. Ribs. Now, living on the streets, you took what you could get when it came to food, but ribs remained to be her number one preference. She recalled a memory of some ribs she had tried in Imperial City at 17 years old. She had just arrived a few weeks beforehand, and had just come into contact with the Thieves Guild. Although aware she wasn’t joining, the Guild had invited her to take a meal with them. Pork Ribs, slathered in the most beautiful sauce she had ever tasted, had been the main dish. Fair to say, she had gnawed on them like a wolf in the wilds, all while managing to mutter a swift ‘thank-you’ to the Redguard chef that had cooked them. She’d never had food like that afterwards (It had been a rare feast, even by the Guild’s standards), but any ribs she tried now reminded her of that, and brought back sweet memories. “They smell amazing, Rawlith.” She said as she inhaled deeply, mouth already watering. They’d had slim pickings in their journey so far. Mostly just dried meats, stale bread, and lumps of cheese, they’d encountered only two rabbits that had made a fairly weak stew. Rozalia was used to feeling hungry, so it hadn’t bothered her so much – however, the people from more sheltered backgrounds than hers (That was, most people in the group), had complained extensively and loudly about their grumbling stomachs. ---------------------------------------- Leo sighed at Rozalia’s sly comment, but he turned his eyes to Ildrun anyway. Things were still looking somewhat blurry, but her dark-orange hair stood out, as did the shape of her face and body, and her vivid green eyes. Even his currently impaired vision, he could tell she was pretty. And quite short for a Nord too. “Sorry about the seemingly callous comment before.” He said with a more natural grin, sitting up with a wince. The Snow-Elf had certainly put him down on his ass. “So, Ildrun. What made you want to join the suicide squad? It’s not fair game killing dragons, I would guess.”