[i][u]20th of Sun’s Height - Dawn[/u][/i]

         For once, Leif woke up not within the walls of Windpeak Inn, but inside a tent where those that did not wish to spend their coin had erected a circle of canvas tents near a campfire. Respectfully, he had done the same, purposefully done, so that he could avoid crossing paths with Sevine or Do’Karth. As he lay within the warmth of his bedroll, his eyes stared up at the canvas ceiling, his thoughts scrambled. After the duel had conceded, Leif ventured off to Quicksilver Mine, and volunteered to be an extra mine-hand for the day. Typically, Leigelf wasn't interested in taking on any extra help, but to Leif’s good fortune, one of his worker’s came down with a bout of ataxia, so to his luck, the balding Nord amiably agreed to take him on for the day. 

        In turn, when the sun had set and all of the miners were calling it a day, Leif brought all of the ore he harvested that day to Leigelf, who paid him for his day’s work. Now, as he lay in his bedroll, he could feel the soreness in his muscles, his entire back, arms, and even thighs hurt from the intensive back-breaking labor. At the time, it felt good to release the strangulating emotions through swinging a pick-axe, very well picturing it to be Do’Karth’s face, or imagining that he was quite literally, splitting his heart in two; physically destroying any remaining emotion with each swing. But now, in the early morning hour, a deep pain emanated from where his heart beat, possibly the symptom of his heart breaking. The deeply rooted sense of betrayal had not subsided, rather, he desperately wished that he could look upon Sevine’s gentle face, to hear the sound of her voice, or to see how her eyes sparkled when she spoke of passionate things. While the pain in his chest remained, he struggled to raise himself up from the bedroll. He wanted nothing more than to disappear, to not have to deal with the chance encounter of seeing her, nor [i]him[/i]. Yet, while he could spend the entire day commiserating in his own grief, he knew that there would be a boat setting sail to Bthamz, and he knew that he had to join the members setting sail today, if he wished to leave behind, for the time being, his sense of deepening grief.

       With the newly acquired coin jingling merrily in his pouch, Leif kept his head held high, avoiding gazes from the townsfolk as he made his way to [i]The Mortar and Pestle[/I]. As he pushed open the door to the apothecary, he was greeted by a familiar face. Ol’ Captain Atgeir carrying on a merry conversation with Frida, while in his left hand, he clutched a bottle filled with green fluid.

        Taking note of a new patron, both Atgeir and Frida paused in their speech and turned to see whom came through the door. At once, Atgeir began to smile. “Well I’ll be! I haven't seen the looks of you sober since we stepped foot in town. What have you been up to these days, my good man?”

“Hullo, Cap’n. Ma’am.” Leif said, nodding his head to Frida, “nothing of particular,  worked at the mine yesterday. Say, whatever happened to [i]The Courtesan[/i]?” They had, after all, abandoned the ship when the hull struck a rock.

“I've sent out a rescue boat, paid a pretty gold coin for it, of course, but she’ll be back here in harbor before you know it, and I'll have her sailing the sea again.” Atgeir said, his frigid blue eyes sweeping over Leif as he spoke, as if searching for answers to questions that neither had asked.

“Truly? That is good news! Perhaps, when my contract with the company is finished, I would cherish the opportunity to sail with you again, Cap’n.” And that, Leif did look forward too. Anything to take his mind off Sevine.

“Of course! There aren't many strong men like you, willing to go the extra mile to make sure the job is done. Now come, don't let me keep you from your business. Frida, you let me know if there is anything else I can do for you.” With that, Atgeir moved past Leif to the door, clasping the man on his shoulder as he went, and left the apothecary without another word.

“I take it you were a sailor for Atgeir?” The elderly woman spoke up, eager to help a potential customer.

“Aye, not too long ago, I sailed the Sea of Ghosts with him.”

“He's a good man, true to his word. Now, is there something of interest I can help you with?” She asked, her eyes creasing as she smiled.

“I came to find any potions of health, if you have them.”

“You came just in time then, I only have three left. Are you with the mercenary company?”

“That I am.”

“Your lot has picked me just about clean, which is good for business, but now I have to restock. Here you are.” She set three potions filled with red fluid on the wooden countertop and stretched out her hand to receive payment. Leif didn't say anything as he counted out his coin, he didn't have the courage to.

“Say, tell me, do you know of that pretty lass in your company? The one with the crimson hair?” Frida’s words froze him in place. Of course he knew, it was none other than Sevine, who else in the company possessed curiously dark red hair? 

“Aye, I know her.” He muttered, a bit shell-shocked in his state to address that sensitive topic so suddenly. 

“Will you do me a favor, and pass this onto her? She left behind this bottle of perfume that she purchased yesterday. I haven't had the time to take it to her, and I'm afraid that she’s already left town with the scouting group.” There, she pushed across a curious bottle, small in shape, with a clear-yellowish fluid inside, in delicate handwriting, the paper label indicated that it was [i]Troll Scab[/i], how unpleasant.

“Certainly. I’ll make it so that she has in her hands again.” Leif then collected his potions, and the bottle of perfume, and departed from the apothecary. 

          With his pack secured, along with his long sword strapped across his back, Leif made his way down to the docks where those chosen for the sea mission, were now boarding [i]Kyne’s Tear[/i]. Not long after he had claimed a hammock, and set his gear inside, he ventured topside to see if he could lend a helping hand. Karena Wave-Rider, the captain, and Hargjorn Thrice-Battered, her first mate, were engaged in a tense conversation when he interrupted, Hargjorn simply grunted in disagreement with each sentence she blathered.

“Pardon me, Captain…” Leif’s words faltered at not knowing her name.

“Karena Wave-Rider, at your service. What can I do for you?” She said with a flashing smile.

“I was wondering if you needed any help on-board? I’m a sailor, eight years under my belt by way of Captain Atgeir.” He raised his brows as he spoke, he didn't want to linger around on deck without pitching in.

“Well...the manual labor is covered, but you are more than welcome to lend a hand with the cook, Jyrki. You can find him in the galley below.”

         As Leif made his way to the steps leading below deck, he caught sight of a familiar figure near the railing. Do’Karth. He hadn't noticed the cat before when he boarded, and now a bout of dread bloomed in his heart. Close quarters in the ruins, and on the ship would bring them together, it was inevitable. 

[i]22nd of Sun’s Height - Bthamz[/i]

          So far, Leif managed to avoid Do’Karth, not that it was noticeable, he just made certain that he wouldn't end up within earshot of the cat. Both nights on deck, the 20th, and 21st, Leif had the luxury of providing song through a flute for the shipmates, as he was well-versed in sea shanties. This time around, he skipped the love songs, and chose simple ditties that anyone could sing, for the chorus’ were repetitive.

       Before they company entered the Dwemer ruins, Leif gave a low whistle to himself. He found the company of Roze, and Sagax, though he spoke not a word. His grief lingered still, and the desire to hold any conversation left him feeling exhausted. As they began to cram themselves into the elevator, his stomach began to turn with nausea, and as they descended, he fought back a wave of bile that threatened to spill forth. 

       When the doors of the elevator were opened, the company fell into a prompt engagement with fearsome dwarven spiders, and as he had reached for his long sword, Leif felt a weight on his chest as he fell to the floor, sword sent spiraling across the granite floor into a darkened corner. He looked up in time to see that what pinned him to the floor were two spiders. Sparks from them exploded over him, and he felt a burning sensation, followed by a wetness on his cheek. Desperately, he flailed his limbs in an attempt to overpower his opponents, but alas, even though the spiders were small in size, the weight of the metal kept him in place.

“For the love of Talos! Help me!” He thundered as another zap from the spider singed off a great chunk of his beard. He could feel again, a seeping wetness that spread down his chest, and across his left shoulder.