[center][h3]Breaking Things[/h3][/center]
A collab by [@Dervish] and I

[i]3 Hours Later…[/i]
The sheer size of the Imperial City frustrated Brynja, she had taken a wrong turn somewhere along the line, and after help from several locals, she ended up in the market district. It was unlike anything she had experienced, there were so many people, of all races, wandering through the streets. Hell, she had even seen a handful of Nords. Though none of the citizens paid much attention to her, except for the occasional gawker, perhaps they thought her another contender in the Arena? She certainly looked the part, she hadn’t the place to relieve herself of her armor, so she stuck to wearing it.

Her brow was slick with sweat as she tried to navigate around the daily hustle and bustle, on one occasion, she elicited a yell from a carriage driver as she had strolled blindly into the horses path. To say the least, her nerves were frayed from the overwhelming sensations of such a lively city. She had tasked herself with replacing some of the items destroyed in the flight from the mountains. Her journal for one, was completely waterlogged, her inkpot destroyed, and her quill snapped in half. And that was just half the problem. Her potion bottles were shattered, and all of her alchemical ingredients had been saturated with a mixture of ink and water. A complete mess.

On her search, Brynja caught the attention of a gaping child, a little Dunmer girl. She could feel the child’s eyes on her back, gawking at her sheer size surely, when she turned to face her. She had to admit it, she was hopelessly lost. “Little girl.”

Her crimson eyes widened, as if she were caught stealing.

“Can you tell me where I can find some potion bottles?”

“Ah… there’s a shop, down yonder, with a big wooden sign. It’s got two large C’s carved into it.” A flash of a smile crosses her face before she turned and ran off.

“Bloody kids.” Brynja grumbled as she trudged off.

Sure enough, a wooden sign depicting two engraved C’s with the words [i]Curious Curios[/i] scrawled in an elegant script caught her attention as it hung above a storefront. Uncertain if she had found the right place, Brynja decided to give it a shot, and opened the door. She crossed the threshold into a dimly lit room, where she stood with a profound look of confusion splayed across her features. Her eyes blinking fast to adjust to the glow of oil lamps.

A number of mounted oils lamps fixated on varnished wood beams, each were carved into cylindrical shapes with flat ends for the lanterns and other objects to be mounted for display. Along the southern walls, oval windows let in a decent amount of light, the glass divided into green and clear checkers between iron struts that formed a cross-hatched diamond shape. The floors were hardwood, and someone very clearly cared about how clean they were kept, and despite some obvious wear, they had a sheen like they were varnished every few years.

The north wall that lead to a backroom behind a door, and a spiral stairwell were roped off, more of a polite deterrent for curious visitors than something meant to act as a barrier. A well-stocked bookshelf took up most of the free space, filled with a mix of books and smaller display items like stones, inexpensive jewelry, skulls, common decorative bits found in tombs and ruins, pieces from dwemer automata such as gears and struts, and baskets filled with soul gems. More expensive pieces, such as swords and more rare artifacts, were kept in locked glass cases of thick glass and wood that was stained black. Across the floor, all manner of other things were kept, such as a large globe, a map case, an assortment of calipers, alchemy tools, gemstones, and more impressively, a complete cave bear skeleton and a woodland troll skeleton; a pair of mammoth tusks, a trio of varla stones in authentic Ayleid pedestals, and an assortment of welkynd stones, giving off lighting where the torches did not reach. All in all, it was an impressively kept shop.

Out of the back room came an orismer man, standing only slightly taller than Brynja. His chin had a grey-black beard that was braided with care, matching the ponytail he wore proudly atop his head. Both of his tusks had ornate rings about them and he was adorned in a forest-green tunic and dark brown trousers with ankle-high boots to match. He carried himself with a straight back and purposeful posture, a man of refinement. However, a pair of curious and welcoming emerald eyes peered out under bushy eyebrows, he looked up from a book he had been carrying with him with one hand, taking notice of his new visitor.

“Why, greetings! You are a new face, welcome to Curious Curios, where the wonders of the world end up for fine folk like yourself to lose yourself in.  May I be of assistance?” he asked, a polite refinement to his voice, hinting at a respectable upbringing. 

“Oh… uh… hello. Yes. I was told I could find some potion bottles here? But…” as her eyes adjusted to the lighting, she could see, that once again, she had perhaps walked into the wrong store. Her gaze shifted to take in the items on display, trying to locate what she sought.

“I think I might be lost…” She said through a terse sigh, “Unless you happen to have some glass bottles I can use for holding potions in?”

“Almost all of the bottles you’ll find here are somewhat antiquities at this point, my dear.” The orc replied politely, walking over to guide Bryna to the shelves where some of the glassware were displayed.

“Not to say that some of it wouldn’t suit your purposes, mind you, but there’s some history to most of what we have in stock, or generally just ornate craftsmanship. If you were planning on keeping them in your abode and for gentle use, I would think they would suit your needs and give a fine second life to them, but if you are planning on going out on rough and tumble adventures, I would recommend a proper alchemy shop. There’s a few within a ten minute walking distance around the Market district, although I would highly recommend Reginald’s Reagents and Supplies to the north. He seems to be a bit more fair minded when it comes to budgetary concerns, and he carries a fine stock, although not as much in the way of specialty items.”

Brynja had followed the orc over to the shelf, and took to admiring the ornate bottles. Too bad, if she weren’t traveling, she might have bought one of the bottles before her. They were, in her mind’s eye, what looked to be captured essences of the stars worked into glass, truly a marvelous work of craftsmanship. There were some bottles with red and green hues, while others appeared in curious shades of blue and deep purple. Others were clear, or amber colored, and came in all shapes and sizes. With a heavy hearted sigh, she turned to the orc, “Well thank you for your help, sir. If I weren’t on the road, I’d surely buy one of these bottles.” Or if she had a home to store it in at that, she thought bitterly.

Just as she turned away from the shelf, she felt her rucksack catch on something, and the sharp sound of glass breaking froze her to the spot. Her face turned crimson at the sound, not the first time in her life that her size had been a factor in knocking things over. “Oh Gods be damned!” She hissed.
“I’m terribly sorry, let me pay you for the…” She turned then to look at what it was she had broken. A small amber bottle with a long neck, with a carved topper in the shape of a flower lay shattered on the immaculate floors. It certainly looked expensive. “...bottle.” She finished, a hard lump forming in her throat.

The orc simply closed his eyes, inhaled deeply, and exhaled slowly. Within moments, his composure was back to normal, and he gently guided Brynja away from the site. “If you would, please remove and carry your pack while in the store. I would be amiss if I didn’t say I’ve done something similar on more than one occasion. It’s a shame, I was rather fond of that piece, it is-”

“A perfume jar dating back to the early 3rd Era, likely around Magnus Septim’s reign. It was found near Cheydinhal in some elderly hag’s possession that she was trying to barter off for skooma money. You’re rather fortunate that that wasn’t one of my prouder finds, Brynja.” An all too familiar voice came from the stairwell.

Setting the rope back into position, and now wearing a nicely fitted red and black dress with a plunging neckline, a ruby amulet set into a white gold fixture of Redguard design and the same dwemer wrist bangles that she had plundered in the ruins up in the Jerall mountains was Daro’Vasora tidied up, and actually looking somewhat feminine and well-kept from how Brynja was accustomed to seeing her. She regarded the broken glass with impish eyes. “I don’t suppose you have a spare 60 Septims to pay for that one, do you?” she asked.

She felt like she was in front of her mother again during one of her lessons in [i]etiquette[/i]. She grimaced at the sound of Daro’Vasora’s condescending voice, sending a shiver down her spine, funny how the two women sounded so similar.

“Hello, Vasora.” Brynja said with a curt nod of her head, her eyes lingering on the Khajiit before her for a few seconds too long. It was strange, certainly, seeing her fellow companion appearing… well… in an outfit that complimented her figure.

“I…” She fished for her pouch of septims tucked inside her breastplate, “not exactly…” of course she didn’t. She had spent half her money on drink alone in Bruma. 60 septims for some old timey perfume bottle? She was actually 25 septims short of what Vasora asked.

“I didn’t think so. I’m surprised if you were actually able to hold onto that kind of coin at one time. You’ve always struck me as… frivolous.”  The Khajiit remarked, staring up at the troll skull staring down at her.

“Sora, we’ve spoken about this.” Zegol chided her. “This woman is a guest and customer, berating her for an accident is unbecoming.”

“We’re colleagues. She’s one of the ones who came back to town with me. Did you not hear me call her by name?” She asked with an innocent smile. Zegol grunted, unamused. 

“My point still stands. You still have a room here, you always will, but you will respect my rules while staying with me.”

Daro’Vasora grinned, picking up one of the welkynd stones from the shelf, spinning it in her grip. “Oh, hush old man. Just put these closer to the front with a sale tag on it, and you’ll make the coin back with a single transaction. Now Brynja might have the physical grace of her dearly departed relative’s skeleton we have on display, but at least allow her to make it up to you. Do you not have a package you need sent off?” she asked the orc.
A smile crossed the orc’s face. “I’d say that’s a fair compromise. Would you mind running something down to the courier for me, Brynja? I would consider that a fair compromise and apology. The walk just isn’t as kind to my knees as when I was a younger man.”

“Yes, of course.” She said, her eyes darting to Vasora. Always with the troll and giant taunts. The Khajiit was no different than her brothers, the rowdy kids from her childhood, the soldiers in the Legion, or even the men she encountered alone these days. “I can ensure you that I’ll get it there safely. Where… ahm, am I taking this package to?”

“I’ll take you there. We want to make sure that your parcel arrives, no?” Daro’Vasora said, smiling innocently as Zegol disappeared into the back room for a few moments. He emerged with a cloth and twine wrapped parcel with a note on top with the relevant delivery information. He handed it to Brynja gratefully. “Please don’t fret over the glass, my dear. This is a very kind favour you’re doing for me, I am grateful.”

“It is the least I can do for destroying your priceless bottle.” She could feel the heat in her cheeks return. Her mother always chastised her for her lack of “bodily awareness”.

And so, Daro’Vasora set out with Brynja in tow. The Khajiit seemed to be in her element among the crowds and smooth stone streets. Merchants hawked their wares in front of stalls set up in neat and orderly rows, and a number of store fronts promised wares ranging from books to arms, alchemy reagents to horse saddles. 

“So, in the largest city in Tamriel, where you could go your entire life without seeing the same person twice, you show up in my personal life in a matter of hours. I don’t know if I should be annoyed or impressed.” Daro’Vasora said, her strides measured and almost elegant. It was as if she transformed in a matter of hours.

“Well if it’s any bit of consolation, I wouldn’t have recognized you had you not changed clothes. Or said my name for that matter. Though I suppose it’d be different for a big oaf like me, what with the intelligence and size of a troll. Or giant. Probably both.” She said the last few sentences under her breath.

“You’re surprisingly modest.” Daro’Vasora observed. “I would have thought you’d have wanted to refute my snarky comments.” Brynja merely grunted in response.

Daro’Vasora made a line towards one of the food vendors, an unassuming man reading from The Black Horse Courier, the oldest newspaper in the city. He smiled when he watched the women approach, and after a polite exchange, Daro’Vasora left with a bag of honey-glazed tree nuts. She took one for herself and offered another to Brynja.

“I always get these for Zegol. It’s kind of my little appreciation ritual when I get back into town and need to stay with him.” she explained.

Brynja eyed the glazed nuts as if they were coated in poison, and came out the asshole of Sheogorath himself. She accepted the offering, nevertheless, and popped the treat inside her mouth. Once she had swallowed the morsel, she cleared her throat and looked at Vasora, “So how did you end up with the orc, seems like an unlikely pairing.”

“Long story short? He’s an old associate of my father who agreed to take me in after Leyawiin grew perhaps a bit too small for my liking. I had similar interests to his profession as a relic hunter, proved to him that I am historically inclined, and instead of just being a leech, I helped him expand his business. The more he taught me the tricks of the trade, the more I was able to bring back for him to sell off. Of course, his connections became my own, and I’ve earned quite a bit of coin thanks to what I’ve learned from Zegol. He’s practically an uncle to me, I love him.” The Khajiit explained, letting out a light sigh as she debated taking another nut before tying the bag off.

“He’s the most kind soul I’ve ever met, and he’s the kind of man who would give whatever he could spare if it helped out someone in need. I hate seeing people take advantage of him, and I spent most of my teen years being the biting voice he lacked because I can’t stand by and watch people talk down to him, or try to swindle him. He wants to believe everyone’s good, that the bad ones just don’t know it yet. That’s why instead of being upset over your clumsy mistake, he’s grateful you’re being so generous to him. He would have let it slide, but to me that’s income that he won’t be getting, and his business is very volatile. Sometimes, every septim matters. I trust you understand.” Daro’Vasora said, glancing over at Brynja. She knew the city well enough that she didn’t even need to look at the signs. 

It was strange, hearing the kindred words uttered by Vasora, Brynja was used to hearing her sardonic wit. She listened to every word, coming to understand the Khajiit and how Zegol helped influenced her. When it came to the matter of septims, a winded sigh escaped.

“I understand… I spent a bit too much of my coin in Bruma.” She said, though it didn’t justify her spending habits, “Couldn’t sleep much.” She added in a mumble.

“What of your folks? You mentioned your father…” Brynja said, hoping to turn the tide of conversation back to Vasora. She didn’t like talking much about herself, it only made her feel awkward, and out of place. Far too much darkness haunted her, so she preferred to push it down into the crevices of her mind when it came to conversation. It helped her to focus on another’s voice than listening to the one inside her head.

“Still in Leyawiin, being the properly connected upper echelons of society. They’re actually supposed to be coming here next month some time, it’s part of why I took Rhea’s job offer. I wanted the extra money to lodge and feed them for their stay.” Daro’Vasora explained, offering a quizzical glance. “So no, I’m not an orphan, if that’s what you were worried about.”

“Wasn’t worried about if you were an orphan. Just curious about your folks.” Brynja said, “I figured some light conversation wouldn’t hurt.” She stopped walking midway in an attempt to gather her bearings, not that it helped, she was already lost again. 

“How much further til we’re there?”

“It’s near the Talos Plaza gate.” Daro’Vasora explained, which gave them a bit of time yet. It was something that was an essential truth about the Imperial City; it could either be extremely quick and convenient, or the better part of the day to do something unless you were willing to pay for public transit. Fortunately, the courier was more along the former. After a few more twists and turns, their destination was up ahead next to the city stables where a number of horses were corralled. The two women entered the courier’s shop where a young Breton man in his early 20s with a sandy blonde ponytail and freckles across his nose busied himself with writing in a ledger. 
“Perceval. It’s been a while.” Daro’Vasora announced, walking up to the counter. The man’s face lit up. 

“Oh! Daro’Vasora, it’s been far too long. I’ve been missing you.” He looked over to Brynja and the parcel she carried. “And who might you be, madam?”
 
“You can call me Brynja, no need for formalities.” She extended her hand towards the Breton for him to shake. He reached out to shake her hand, and when her hand curled around his, an expression of grimace spread across his face.

“That’s some grip you have!” He exclaimed, holding his hand to his chest, before shaking it out in an attempt to return some feeling to his extremities. Taking the parcel, he read the note on top, and recorded the information with surprisingly pleasant handwriting. 

“That will be six septims, and we’ll have it on its way.” Perceval said amicably, a light suddenly coming on in his eyes.

“Oh, I just remembered! Something came in for you, Daro’Vasora! Give me a moment.” he disappeared behind a curtain into the backroom, leaving the two women in front of the counter, and Brynja searching her coin purse. 

When Perceval came back, he carried a wax-sealed scroll and a small jar that was evidently filled with sweets. “That’s just a bit extra, for being such a… you know, wonderful customer. A thank you reward!”

“I’m sure you give that to all the girls. Thank you, Percy.” Daro’Vasora said, taking both the scroll and the jar with a playful brush of a finger across his hand. He beamed, acting like a love-sick puppy. 

“It is my genuine pleasure.” Perceval said, receiving Brynja’s payment. That transaction concluded, the duo headed outside again. Daro’Vasora placed the jar in her bag and peeled back the wax seal with a claw. Her eyes began to scan the parchment, the Khajiit navigating around the crowd with well-practice peripheral vision. “That boy’s taken a fancy to me ever since he laid eyes on me. Some kind of cross-species fetishist, that one. As long as he keeps showering me with gifts, I let him dream. We both win, right?”

Brynja cast a long sided glance at Daro’Vasora, she felt sick. Not for her… but of other past reminders. It reminded her of Rorik, and his loose ways. Playing with the hearts of maidens as if they were nothing more than butterflies flitting between flowers. Her stomach turned at the recollection.
 
“I’m not the one to tell you how to live, but I think it’s a bit cruel to lead someone along like that. Why not tell the poor thing the truth, and save him the heartbreak?” She asked as her eyes swept the area, a weak attempt to remember her whereabouts. 

“Shall we head back to your mentor’s? I’m still in need of a few items anyways. He’ll be happy to know the parcel was mailed out accordingly.” Brynja stated. Though she would have to decide on how to spend her coin wisely.
The Khajiit blinked, shaking her bag. “Sweets, remember?” she reiterated, practicing a well-practiced tone of playful ignorance. 

“Besides, if he wanted more than the fantasy, he’d ask me himself. So far, just schoolyard infatuation that he’s too shy to act upon. Not saying I’d say yes necessarily, but I’ve been proven wrong before. He also has no idea what I do for a living, and chances are I’ve pilfered and sold something that belonged to his great-great-grandmother. Ignorance is best, yes?”

“Bliss. Ignorance is bliss.” Brynja corrected her, not the best, but it could be bliss. “I suppose if you enjoy the benefits of free sweets, then by all means, don’t stop. Honesty never hurt anyone, or at least a dilated version of it.” She added.

“In my experience, honesty only really counts if you are close to someone. All bets are off past that, because someone will try to swindle you. And yes, we’ll head back that way. What did you need to acquire?” Daro’Vasora continued reading over the note, letting out a long, annoyed, “[I]Ugggh[/I], him, really?” she asked rhetorically, her ears folding back and a quizzical raise of an eyebrow were involuntary reactions to the news she was reading.

“La’Shuni’s my kid sister, adorably innocent girl at that. She’s apparently seeing J’Kharrid, who’s a real piece of work. I thought I taught her to have some better standards, but alas, I can’t be there to teach her such fine things as taste, and that she could have anyone she wants, settling for bloody J’Kharrid is like settling for someone who eats paste because one of his crossed eyes lingered on you for too long.” Daro’Vasora said, rolling up the parchment, and putting it away. “She better not be bringing him up here next month. I might sign him up for the Arena just to make a point.”

“I…” Brynja stopped short of giving her a response, as she let Daro’Vasora’s words sink in about her sister. 

“The irony.” She chuckled, indeed, her own sister, Elyse, tormented her suitors, much like Vasora. “Honesty is best when it comes to the matter of the heart, especially if you’re not particularly interested in someone that gives you such attention. There’s no worse a feeling. Feeling that you’re in love, or infatuated as you put it, and you go out of your way to do things you normally wouldn’t just to show them how much you care, when in the end, they were only toying with your heart, and they leave you high and dry for some other woman. And the reality comes crashing down around you that they never loved you at all, and this whole time you thought they did. There’s no worse a feeling, Vasora. For everyone else, they can all fuck off with honesty.”

“So, uh, are we still on Perceval or are we on you now?” Daro’Vasora asked, amused by the sudden vehemence Brynja was showing. For someone who was typically guarded, this was a waterfall of emotion.

A hard lump formed in her throat. Fuck. For fuck’s sake. Why in the bloody blazes of Oblivion had she opened her mouth about love. “It’s… it was a hard lesson I had to learn. I made a lot of mistakes for a foolish man. A man I thought fancied me.” She snorted, “Hah. Can you imagine that? That’s an entertaining thought for you. Someone fancying me, aye?”

She cleared her throat, “I need some ingredients for alchemy.” And a good drink.

Daro’Vasora shrugged. “You’re a mixed bag, and you drink too much, but you’re a conventionally attractive woman with a pleasant voice. Most men probably fancy you, at least superficially.” she said, mentally steering them towards Reginalds’ shop. “Look, even I have men, and some women, attracted to me, even in most places that aren’t Cyrodiil or Pelletine, or Anequina, that tend to subject me to quite the outpouring of vitriol on account of me being a cat, less than men or mer. Don’t sell yourself short. You don’t have pointy ears or a tail, and I’m reasonably sure no one has ever threatened to turn you into a coat or a pair of slippers.”

“You don’t have to make me feel good about myself.” Brynja grumbled, she hated that the most. 

“It’s not that I’m [i]not[/i] interested in men or women, so to say. It’s just the fact…” she stopped speaking, why bother? Vasora would probably use whatever she said against her to taunt and goad her later. 

“It’s just the fact that love isn’t quite the same as I imagined when I was a little girl. The mind is a dark and scary place when you’re alone, and I prefer to keep my ghosts to myself.” She finished.

“Has the delectable Vasora ever had a partner? Or is it all fun and games for you?” She asked, turning the conversation away from her again. She could feel the seed of bitterness and rage boiling in her stomach. A drink would help her forget. Help quiet the shadows in her head. It helped. For a little while. 

The Khajiit regarded Brynja for a moment, deciding how to proceed. “You know, you seem keen on plucking answers out of me without extending the courtesy. I think I’ll let that one sit out in the open and let your imagination do its work.” she said, not maliciously, but enough to let the Nord know that she was done giving without receiving anything in return. It’s not that Daro’Vasora particularly worried about Brynja, a woman she was likely never going to see again after this week, knowing too much about her, and she wasn’t a secretive woman to begin with. She simply wasn’t ashamed of who she was or who she associated with.

Over the next hour, the pair went to the alchemy shop, and true to Zegol’s word, the proprietor was indeed affordable and quite helpful for Brynja’s needs. Daro’Vasora spent her time reading over the letter again, grinding her teeth at J’Kharrid’s name, wishing she had something to chew on. 
Before long, both were standing outside of [I]Curious Curios[/I] once more. The sky was a forget-me-not blue, where a few lazy white clouds drifted across, a rather pleasant day.

“Thank you, for being my guide. Again, I’m sorry about the perfume bottle. Will you give these flowers to Zegol? I’d do it myself, but I still have some errands to run.” She held out a bundle of lavender, and white lilies.

“You coudn’t spare five minutes?” Daro’Vasora asked incredulously. 

Brynja stared dead-eyed at the Khajiit, she could have said so many words in response to her question. And instead of answering at all, Brynja simply brushed past Daro’Vasora, and entered the shop, bundle of flowers in hand.
On crossing the threshold, she called out for the orc, “Zegol?” Perhaps he had gone to the back room?

Zegol appeared a few moments later, looking surprised to see them both back so fast. “Welcome back! I trust there weren’t any issues finding your way?” he asked.

“I delivered the package for you, as promised. And… these are for you. It’s nothing much, a small gift for breaking the perfume bottle.” Brynja extended the flowers to him to take.

The orc blinded in surprise when he was offered the flowers, it was an exceedingly unexpected and thoughtful gesture. They were pretty white and yellow things with the occasional splash of blue, and while Zegol never was one to know one flower from another, he could still appreciate them. 

“You really didn’t have to do this, but you’ve proven to have a kind soul. Thank you, really and truly.” He said earnestly, a warm smile across his face.
“I wish you the best of days. Take care of yourself, Zegol.” Brynja bowed her head, and turned to leave. She caught Daro’Vasora’s eye, but said not a word to the Khajiit. She shut the door behind her, setting off for the nearest tavern.

“You never mentioned that your friends are so thoughtful.” Zegol said to Daro’Vasora when they were alone, finding a pot to put the flowers in. The Khajiit followed, glancing back at the door. 

“Yeah, she’s alright. It’s like you like to tell me, everyone’s good deep down. She even insisted, if you can believe it.” Daro’Vasora lied, pulling out the bag of nuts she purchased earlier to set down on the counter. “For that big old sweet tusk of yours.” she said.

Zegol laughed, overjoyed. “It’s never a surprise, but would you fault me for saying that this is one of the things I look forward to most when you come visit?”

“Not at all. You better eat them before I start feeling peckish, alright?”