[center][h3]Daro’Vasora & Alim Collab[/h3][/center] [hr] Once Alim had left Raelynn and Jude to their own devices, he decided to take a breather and head to the edge of camp. He needed some fresh air, and the fire ruined his night vision. The dark was swiftly approaching and he still felt he played the role of vanguard and experienced adventurer of their troop. Might as well continue to play the part. Alim stepped off the rise in the ground and with a few agile steps over a few oddly placed rocks embedded into the ground, he made it to the tree line. However, as soon as he got there he saw the faintest flicker of movement to his left. Once his eyes adjusted, he saw the Khajiit, Daro’Vasora leaning against one of the sparse trees near camp. “Not feeling sociable?” Alim asked. “Whatever could have offered that observation?” she replied tersely, her arms crossed tight across her chest. She hadn’t moved from the spot since Rhea had come to speak with her, and she was not ready to laugh or joke or join in the speculation of what on Nirn was going on. Her mind stewed upon so many things, too many things, and the intrusion bothered her. Still, she realized that she was being unfair. Alim hadn’t done anything to earn her ire, and there were worse things than people checking to see if she was holding up or falling apart. In truth, she didn’t know what the truth of that was yet, either. “There’s a lot on my mind. I handle things better when I’m on my own.” she replied, her arms sliding forward so her wrists were resting on her knees. “Why are you here, looking for better company?” “I suppose I was here for the same reason you are.” He admitted, grabbing one of the low branches of the tree he stood next to, simply letting his legs and body unwind as he held himself up by his grip. “Normally I would leave you alone, but if it wouldn’t be too much trouble, I was wondering what part of Elsweyr you were from. I don’t know if I’ve told you but I spent some time there.” “I’m not.” Daro’Vasora replied, more warily than blunt. “Born and raised in Cyrodiil, even come from a wealthy family. Do you assume all Khajiit come from Elsweyr, or do you just assume everyone fits tidily into their ancestral homelands?” she replied, taking a stick she had whittled down the bark and sliding it between her teeth. “Well I was raised in High Rock, so not particularly,” he said with a grin. He doubted Daro would be able to tell he had some Breton blood, but even if she could, he still very much resembled a resident of Hammerfell. “I simply thought you’d been there, or at least feel ties to it. I always felt like Hammerfell was home, even if I didn’t visit it until I’d become a man.” “Wealthy families aren’t all they’re cracked up to be, are they?” He said, more talking to himself. Of course, he knew you were lucky when it came to financial needs. But sometimes there was a lack of care or pragmatic closeness between family and friends. Daro’Vasora shook her head. “No. Never been there, don’t care to. Deserts have never interested me, nor do tropical diseases. Sure, there’s some interesting ruins that are remarkably well preserved in the North, but getting to them would be quite a bother and the nomads would not take kindly to an outsider plundering their heritage. So if you aren’t of Hammerfell, why dress the part? Cultural appropriation?” she asked, stretching her legs out before her. Her teeth worked their way through the stick. “Are you insinuating I have issues with my family?” she asked, as if trying to lead Alim into stumbling over himself. If he wanted to pester her, she was going to enjoy herself at the very least. Alim shrugged, though he gave an easy smile. “I lived there for a time after I left High Rock. I might have been born there, according to what I was told. Thought I’d go back and see where my mother was from. Plus, it was on the way to the center of Tamriel, I’d need to go through it eventually.” He laughed. “It was actually fun, even though I never did find her. But the experiences outweighed the disappointment.” At her question, he pushed off with his feet and swung under the tree branch he gripped to give him a small amount of air before he let go, landing casually and pointing at Daro’Vasora. “Hey, you said it, not me.” He joked. Though his face sobered enough quickly. “But I suppose we don’t all have the same family, even if they have similar means.” “You never knew your mother?” The Khajiit asked, blinking slowly. She recalled how comparatively normal her family had been compared to many she had met on the road. She could see how the absence of a mother figure in Alim’s life probably led to his current flamboyant attitude. “So, dysfunctional and absent family with a lot of money. What’s the story behind that? How did you come to be talking with women in the brush instead of, I don’t know, revelling in some lucrative family trade?” Alim took a moment to respond, opening his mouth and thinking in real time. “A bastard never feels at home, I guess.” He said, crossing his arms. “I acted out as a kid. Then when I grew addicted to it...I suppose I enjoyed taking risks because why stay home when you’re the second rate son? I wanted to succeed and do glorious deeds. I got my wish, in a way. It cost me a few things, and I have a regret or two. But since I left High Rock, it’s been one adventure after another.” “I could never live with myself as the family clerk. It might be the warrior blood of Hammerfell, or me hearing too many stories of the Knightly Orders of High Rock as a kid. But staying still and safe just never sat well with me.” He grinned at that, as if happy at a joke he had with himself. “And what about you? What led you into the depths of a Dwemer ruin if your home life was fine?” “Oh, it was fine. Just dreadfully boring. My mother’s a highly positioned member of a count’s court, my father’s a seafaring merchant. Never wanted for anything growing up, never really felt challenged. Like you, I acted out to see what I could get away with. The thrill of doing things I wasn’t supposed to made me feel an excitement I was lacking in my life, and it’s the reason my honourific is Daro… tends to happen when you get caught doing something stupid when you think you’re more clever than you are.” Daro’Vasora explained evenly, her expression unshifting. “Anyways, long story short, being under house arrest in a castle cleaning chamber pots and dusty shelves let me have access to a rather sizable library full of rather creative tales and tomes about this historical figure and that and some clues where something valuable was still waiting to be found. My father decided to help me channel this sudden passion of mine and sent me to…” she trailed off, closing her eyes and breathing deeply, her hands working in and out of fists as the memories came flooding back. Zegol’s face filled her mind and she fought the urge to have an emotional break in front of this nosy shit that had no concept of privacy. “Look, I’d rather not get into it. I don’t know you, and for all I know, after we get to Skingrad, I’ll never see you again, so why the sudden interest in someone you’ve barely spared three sentences for before?” Daro’Vasora asked tersely. The tone gave Alim pause. He hadn’t felt as if he’d been intruding. He’d known a few hard asses in his time, and he supposed he should have figured she would be one. Maybe the Dwemer attack on the city muddled his head more than he first thought, and he couldn’t read people as well at the moment. What he needed was a long sleep. “I didn’t mean to pry, sorry.” He said, holding his hands up. “I just never made a friend without findin-...ok that’s not true. When I was a sailor I made a few friends without actually talking to them. But as a traveler on land, when there’s nothing to kill but time, why not talk?” Daro’Vasora shrugged, looking back towards the group, the fire. “I’ve never been one to get attached. People come and go, more often than not, they stab you in the back. If you assume everyone’s an asshole, they can’t let you down.” She replied, sighing. Her eyes met Alim. “I don’t know if I should apologize or not. I just… I lost someone in the city. It’s fresh.” Her teeth bought into the stick and it snapped between her teeth. The Khajiit spat it out, hating the feeling of being exposed and vulnerable. “And Latro’s been on my mind. I invited him to my mentor’s place, they’re gone now.” Her words sunk in, and Alim nodded. He could empathise, though he had been so busy cheering up Jude and Raelynn that he hadn’t had the time to absorb it. “You know I saved Anifare before the attack even happened,” he recalled, sitting down and gazing inwardly. “I gave her my cloak and I escorted her to the library and then...right after we separated, the Dwemer invaded. I should have stayed with her, but...I haven’t seen her since.” The Redguard twiddled his thumbs. “I didn’t know her that well, but from talking she was a sweet woman. I began to consider her a friend and now she’s...probably dead.” He sighed and looked up at Daro for a moment, and then looked away again. “I think we all need some time. I’m just a man of action. If I sit still, I dwell.” She sat in silence for a moment in contemplation. “I know I should feel guilty for surviving, but I don’t. The entire camp, gone. How many in the City? I kept my personal world small, and I form attachments with a few people and look where it gets me. I liked Latro, he’s the reason I escaped the Falmer. He was willing to give his life to save me and… I don’t know if I ever felt that. I saw him searching for a lute in the marketplace, so I took him home to give him one of mine. I never found out how he liked it.” Daro’Vasora sighed, wrapping her arms protectively about her waist. “I suppose it is a similar thing for you and Anifare. You walk a lonesome path for so long, you never realize how much you actually crave companionship. I’d like to think they’d survived, or escaped, but I know better than to hold onto hope.” “As do I” Alim breathed, and a short silence grew between them. It was a hard fact of life than companions died along the way. There had only been a few occasions Alim had thought one dead and found out otherwise. Usually, it was the opposite… “Then again,” he said, and gestured between the two of them. “Hope is sometimes founded on truth. You and me? We’re proof of the contrary when it comes to a lack of hope. I’ve survived a few things some didn’t believe I would. I have a feeling you’re the same. Not to mention the Dwemer attack. That will probably make it into the history books.” He clapped his hands on his knees and let out a long breath, before hopping up. “It’s up to us to make sure those history books are Imperial.” “It will, and some day, someone just like me will be plundering the ruins and catacombs of those who had fallen eras before and selling off their history for a few coins. History is cyclical; the actors change, but it rhymes enough that things like this aren’t that surprising. The Atmorans destroying the Snow Elves, the Reman Dynasty overthrowing what seemed like eternal elven rule, the Aldmeri Dominion rising up to prey on a weakened Mede Empire. None of this will matter before long, something else will rise to rule formerly Imperial lands, and maybe it will be the Dwemer.” Daro’Vasora noted with a scowl. “They just never tell you that when you’re living history, it hurts and tears you apart in ways you never knew you could feel. The Dwemer may or may not make their presence last, but I’m going to make them hurt. I don’t know how, but I will find a way to tear into their weaknesses and pay them back for what they did to me and the very few people I care for. It’s a good thing I’ve spent a consider amount of time studying them; their toys might have changed, but I’m willing to bet they haven’t. They will remember me when I’m done, either as victors or their vanquished, and it will be a scar that will never heal.” Daro’Vasora was animated, almost livid; her hands were tightly wound fists and there was a fire in her eyes, the raw emotions of the day coming through. The mixed breed spellsword wasn’t often angry. In fact he was easy going through most situations. Wars happen. Famines and plagues occur. People are born and pass away...usually he did his best not to let it bother him unless something harmed one of his friends. But he had to admit that was exactly what had happened here today. And all of those innocents… Alim held his hand out to clasp Daro’Vasora’s arm, and he gave a nod. He held no jest or mirth in his eyes, only confirmation. “We’ll make them pay.” “Yeah.” She agreed, not knowing what to make of Alim. “So, is there any food left? Hard to plot an insurrection on an empty stomach.” The spellsword rolled his eyes, and produced a biscuit out of belt, indicating he stole an extra one. “As far as the others know, no.” He handed it to her.