So, the argonian did lose his brain with the end of his tail. It wasn’t surprising, since Marassa always assumed the worst out of people, but it was always a disappointment when she was proven right. She regarded him aloofly. “Untested, am I? Interesting. I hear they commissioned a rather flattering statue of me in Imperial City a couple years ago near that statue of the Avatar of Akatosh. I wonder why that was?” she asked rhetorically, stepping away from the wall to join the others as they waited for a serving of Qara’Sion’s stew. She crouched down and accepted her portion with a nod, subtly giving it a sniff. From what meager ingredients were found, it actually had a surprisingly fresh and pleasant scent. The khajiit warrior had made due with much more grueling fare in the past. She placed the bowl down to let it cool a bit. “Unlike you, argonian, I never asked for recognition for my deeds and I certainly don’t feed off of praise for doing what was necessary. I rather detest the label ‘Hero of Tamriel’, such pretentious nonsense.” She said, frowning as she stared at the fire before her. “I certainly don’t need to rise to the bait and justify my existence to a glorified pit fighter who found himself admired by simpletons who confuse the ability to kill as a spectacle with actual value. Besides, while you were getting yourself captured, maimed, and forced to fight for the dwemer’s entertainment after failing spectacularly to accomplish some pointless task at someone else’s bidding, I was searching for the people I care about. Sometimes rescuing them from capture and torture from the middle of a Dominion camp.” She saw the looks of a few of the faces around her, sensing recognition. Perhaps she would inquire about the potential connection later.

After the stew had cooled enough, Marassa scooped up the bowl and tilting it back, drinking deeply and chewing thoughtfully on the bits of dried meat and vegetables that had made up the stew. She nodded to the younger khajiit. “My thanks. It’s always pleasant when I don’t have to kill and prepare my own meals, and you seem to be quite good at it. Perhaps next time we make camp, I’ll bait and snare a few fresh rabbits.” She offered, her face thoughtful, no small part of which was thanks to the unanswered question of what had happened to Zaveed. While she would never admit to being worried about his potential demise to complete strangers, it ate at her mind. He was the only family she had left, one of the few people she truly, deeply knew that losing would crush her. She clenched her fist, staring at it in front of the flame before spreading her fingers wide to feel the heat. She had nothing of Sevari’s, nothing but the memory of someone she fell in love with but never had a chance to let him know until it was far too late. And now he was gone, perhaps forever. Was it selfish of her? Probably. But she was so very tired at devoting herself to others to justify her own life, the mistake that should have never been, and she rarely asked for anything of her own. All she asked for now was a chance to save the only family she had left, not to pay a life debt, but because she didn’t want to face a world knowing her brother wasn’t in it. She sincerely hoped these people would help her find him again, even it if took months. 

“We should head out soon, perhaps when the rain subsides somewhat. Unless everyone feels like camping out in an exposed landmark for the night. It’s not only the dwemer we need to fear on these roads.” She said.