[sup]Featuring [@Gcold] and [@Frizan][/sup]

[center][b]Late Afternoon, 5[sup]th[/sup] of Last Seed[/b][/center]
[center][b]Streets of Solitude[/b][/center]
[hr]
Despite its cosmopolitan nature, Argonians still were a rare sight in Solitude; as such, Tsleeixth found himself the target of a few quiet glances from a citizen or two. Normally this wouldn’t have perturbed the Argonian, in fact it would usually have gone completely unnoticed, but after the events that had transpired in Dawnstar, Tsleeixth had found himself possessed of a streak of nervousness that had never manifested before. It wasn’t too evident when he was with members of the company, he knew and trusted them, but when he was alone, if one had spent time with the Argonian, one would notice small ticks that gave away his perturbed state. Furtive glances to each side, a tendency to immediately turn his head when he heard shouting, freezing for a split second when he heard voices shouting in anger.   

As such, the Argonian spellsword was keenly aware of the furtive gazes that a few of the Solitude citizens threw his way. It didn’t matter that such gazes were drawn by curiosity and that there was no ill intent in them, for Tsleeixth those gazes instinctively spelt danger. A part of him knew that he was being unreasonable and paranoid, and that this attitude of his was pathetic, but he couldn’t help it. It was all too easy for him to imagine the citizens of Solitude, loitering around going through their lives, as the mob in Dawnstar that had mauled him to near-death and which had left him with permanent damage on his left knee. As such, without meaning too, the Argonian began to speed up his pace, making his way towards the warehouse were Gustav had settled in the company for their short stay in Solitude. Hurried as he was, Tsleeixth didn’t notice when he bumped into someone on his way to the warehouse “I’m terribly sorry for the inconvenience sir, please, if you let me be on my way I won’t be any more trouble.” He spoke immediately, fear evident in his words to his great shame. “[i]Coward, you are a coward.[/i]” His own voice rang out in his thoughts, admonishing himself as he waited for whoever he had bumped into to speak.    

“Oh, it’s no worry friend, I wasn’t watching where I was going…” the Imperial turned to face the stranger to find himself in front of none other than Tsleeixth. Sagax still remembered how he was able to talk down the Pakseech in Windhelm, preventing a massacre. The beastman looked worse for wear, and for good reason, he knew. He had heard what happened shortly before the company’s departure from Dawnstar.

“Long time no see, Tsleeixth. Haven’t really had a chance to talk to you since Windhelm, and we both know how Dawnstar went…” 

Cutting the awkward small-talk short while he was ahead, Sagax decided to ask a real, honest question. “So, how are you holding up?” An innocent enough inquiry, but one that came from the heart. The events of the past few weeks had to have some effect on the amicable Argonian, and it wouldn’t do for him to hide all of his troubles. That lead to dark, dark paths that Sagax couldn’t imagine Tsleeixth walking down. “Anything I can help with? I’m all ears, friend.”

“Oh, it’s you Sagax…” Said Tsleeixth, visibly deflating, as some of the anxiety that had taken a hold of him evaporated slightly in the presence of someone he knew. However, this proved fleeting, for as soon as Sagax mentioned Dawnstar, the Argonian visibly flinched before relaxing once more a moment afterwards. “I’m…” He started to say, thinking to lie and say that everything was fine but stopped upon further consideration. Sagax was an intelligent man, he’d figure that something was wrong with him, especially after his display at the mere mention of the town of Dawnstar, and he seemed earnest in his desire to know how he was doing. “To tell the truth, I’m not doing well my friend.” He said with a sigh, some of that old nervousness returning to him again “Could we...could we return to the warehouse where we are staying? I think it’d be better to discuss such things there, no?” He said, hoping that he’d sound convincing. In truth, he just wanted to return to the sole place in Solitude were paranoid thoughts of being beaten up by a mob weren’t near-constantly cropping up in his brain.   

In the end, Tsleeixth didn’t give Sagax much of a choice as he began quickly making his way back to the warehouse at a quick pace, although one that soon slowed down as the injury in his knee began acting up and he began limping. Luckily the warehouse wasn’t too far away and so they arrived fairly quickly but, unfortunately, by the time that they got there Tsleeixth’s left knee was acting up once again, pain radiating from the crippled knee and spreading around the area “So, here we are, seems like a much better place to talk no?” Said Tsleeixth as he sat on a nearby crate, his left hand instinctively massaging his left knee while he waited for Sagax to talk again.  

“Oh, I agree.” said Sagax as he pushed himself up to sit on a length of railing. “Strangers need not indulge in our woes. Speaking of…” he added tentatively, “You said you were unwell.” Even as a child, Sagax was fairly good at reading people’s emotions. He didn’t really have a method or technique to it, it simply manifested as a gut feeling. Sagax just assumed that it was a gift Mother Mara had given him at a young age. “Even if you didn’t tell me, your body language gives some clues. You’re all...scrunched up. And I’m not talking about your leg.” It was strange, like Tsleeixth was scanning every corner and alley. What was he expecting to find?

“So, what’s eating you, Tsleeixth?” He asked with a tone that he hoped would vocalize patience and understanding. Sagax didn’t want his friend to feel uncomfortable or, even worse, like he wasn’t actually interested in listening.

“I knew you’d notice, even if I hadn’t said anything.” Said Tsleeixth in response to Sagax’s comment that, even if he hadn’t told him, he’d have figured it out due to his body language. “What’s eating me? How should I put it…” Began the Argonian, letting out a soft sigh as he gathered his thoughts. “You do know what happened at Dawnstar….my beating at the hands of the mob, the little….souvenir they gave me.” Continued the Saxhleel, pointing out to his left knee when he mentioned the [i]souvenir[/i] that he had gotten at Dawnstar. “Ever since then I’ve….I’ve been scared, to put it bluntly.” He said finally, shaking his head slightly. “This fear has gripped my mind tightly, it wasn’t too obvious when we were travelling aboard the [i]Kyne’s Tear[/i] since I trust the people in the company, but ever since we’ve come to Solitude my mind has constantly gone back to the beating I received in Dawnstar.” Said Tsleeixth.

“I keep expecting to, I don’t know, the people around me to turn into that same bloodthirsty mob that tried to kill me.” He admitted to the Imperial, letting out a bitter chuckle “Pathetic, isn’t it? I’ve fought Kamal, Falmer, and all other manner of foes far more terrifying than an unruly mob of Nords...and yet fear grips my heart like it had never before when I venture out into the streets of the city.” He finished, letting out a sigh and looking down at the ground unable to meet Sagax’s gaze.  

“Gods, Tsleeixth, after something like that I don’t think it’s too odd for you to feel that way.” It was hard for Sagax to imagine being in Tsleeixth’s shoes. Surrounded by strangers on all sides, eyes full of hate and their words coated in vitriol, ready to kill just for the simple fact that you were different. Because you committed the crime of not being them. Even harder to envision was being one of those people. Being consumed with such hatred that it overtook him entirely, pushing him to hurt someone that had done absolutely nothing at all to anybody...it twisted Sagax’s stomach into a knot. 

“I’m not going to say you’re wrong for looking out for yourself, Tsleeixth, because you’re absolutely right after what happened. All I’m advising is that you don’t let it pull wool over your eyes.” After a second’s thought, Sagax swiftly added to his advice, “...Also, it’s absolutely not pathetic that you’re a bit scared. Fear is a natural instinct, Tsleeixth. It warns us against things that might hurt us. It’s just important that...we don’t let it rule us.” There were those words again, about not being ruled by fear. They rang in his head every day, as if he were subconsciously repeating a sacred mantra.

“It...might sound a bit silly and ineffective, but might I suggest prayer, friend? I was just at the chapel in Castle Dour, praying to Mother Mara. It always makes me feel better. Perhaps pray to Stendarr, as well? His influence may just keep you from harm.”

Just entering the warehouse was Keegan Vasque, with a bag in hand and a smile hidden behind his blank features. He had just quit as an entertainer in the Winking Skeever and given the owner a piece of his mind. No longer would he be juggling big balls under the alias “The Shifty Banana”, and now, he was back to to his slightly less shitty old job.

With the slightly less shitty old job came the slightly less shitty co-workers and customers. For all that he did not like about the two individuals standing in the warehouse ahead of him, Keegan preferred them over the rowdy patrons of the Winking Skeever (whom often threw mead on him and asked him to “juggle their balls”) every single day. He had overheard some of their conversations on the way in, and like they were about to do, he was just at the castle chapel. He wanted to pray to Auriel there, but the response from the Nordic priests were frowns and “we don’t do that”. Normally, and more logically, he would have known the Nords’ merphobia. Today though, having feeling the best (and somewhat delirious, due to spiking his tea with mead) he had in months, Keegan thought the chapel was closed.

“I was just at the chapel,” Keegan jumped in, “and I’m afraid they do not offer services today.”

“Oh...I see, thank you Keegan.” Responded Tsleeixth. He wasn’t sure why, but the fact that the chapel in Castle Dour was closed hit him harder than it should have; his people didn’t had never shared the faith that the Imperials held, and yet the thought of prayer seemed strangely comforting to the Argonian’s mind “Maybe we can find a chapel once we arrive in High Rock? It will take a while, but better late than never, no?” He said to Sagax before his mind briefly stopped as it finally dawned on him who had just delivered the news of the chapel not offering services today. “Keegan?” The Argonian said the name, slightly dumbfounded. He was sure that he had heard that the Altmer had left the company shortly before the whole mess in Dawnstar had forced them to leave the city “I thought you had left the company, no? How come you’ve decided to join us again?” Asked the Argonian, puzzled by this turn of events. He was glad that Keegan had returned to the fold, but was still confused as to why he had decided to return.  

“I, I,” Keegan began stuttering involuntarily, the sudden response from a question he did not answer. He wouldn’t tell them the truth; Keegan’s pride ensured he did not divulge such an embarrassing experience. “I have nothing for you to worry about.”

“Yes, please do tell, Keegan. It’s been a while, how’ve you been getting along?” he didn’t know the Altmer all that well, but Sagax saw no harm in being friendly. “Also...I don’t believe chapels just...close. Are you sure you didn’t get, well, gypped? Honestly, I think they were lying to you.” He honestly had never heard of such a thing before. A chapel? Closing like some common grocer? Sagax had the sneaking feeling that perhaps Keegan’s beliefs didn’t exactly match that of those running the place, so in truth, he was simply scorned.

“Really, I’m pretty surprised you’re back. You seemed none-too chuffed about things when you left. Surely, things couldn’t have been worse over here?”

“Fine, Sagax, if you insist.” Keegan resigned with a sigh. He briefly rolled his eyes at the nosiness of this Imperial kid, then decided that he could spared them the details without necessarily lying. “‘Tis but a break and a detour. Well, uh,  Ariane Fontaine convinced me to return; I wanted to go to High Rock.”

Realizing how weak his reply was, Keegan decided to share a bit more of what they could all agree on. “Dawnstar was, how would you say it? Coarse, rough, and the hostility gets everywhere. I heard even Skald himself was killed. Was it really that, execrable?”

“And, gypped?” Keegan rolled over the unfamiliar slang on his tongue; it tasted like sewage. “I’m sure they-” The realization of what Sagax implied became somewhat clear. If he wouldn’t be admitted, then there’s very little chance that Tsleeixth would be as well. 

“There must be some problem with the chapel,” suggested Keegan, “but I did hear the company has hired its own chaplain. Perhaps you may seek her service?”

“Bah, there’s no need ‘s no need to mince words about Dawnstar, the place was a dump, I doubt you’ll find many people in the company with fond memories of the place.” Tsleeixth spoke, surprised at the bitterness in his words “But, yes, things got considerably worse shortly after you left.” 

“Seeking the chaplain that Ashav hired sounds like a good idea.” He added shortly after that, eager to shift the topic away from Dawnstar “Truth be told I have no desire to venture into Solitude again, unless absolutely necessary, and, well, I think it’d be best to talk with someone who knows what actually happened in Dawnstar, and not whatever it is that the newspapers are saying.” He said, nodding to himself after thinking over in silence for a few seconds “Yes, I think I will do that, thank you for your suggestion Keegan. And thank you for listening in as well Sagax, it did me good to get this out of my chest.” 

“What kind of friend what I be if I didn’t listen to the troubles of my comrades? I’m always available for a chat.”

Catching a glimpse of Piper out of the corner of his eye, Sagax got back to his feet. She was carrying two large and, presumably, heavy boxes, and looked like she needed a bit of assistance. Giving a short salute, the Imperial bid farewell to Tsleeixth and Keegan. “It was good to catch up with you both; hopefully next time won’t be so far off! Gotta scoot now, though. Duty calls!”

“Very well, see you on the ship.” Keegan waved goodbye, wondering what acts of stupidity will he see Sagax perform on the ship. With that kind of enthusiasm, probably the really stupid kind.

“You're welcome,” Keegan acknowledged Tsleeixth, “and hopefully the situation will improve for us; it's surely hard to get any worse than Dawnstar.” The Altmer sounded with optimism, partially from genuine hope, and partially to convince himself that returning to this mercenary company was a smart choice.

Jogging off to meet with his sister, Sagax lifted one of the boxes out of Piper’s arms and began walking alongside her. Their conversation couldn’t be clearly heard, but Sagax nodded towards his fellow mercenaries and spoke with a grin. Looking over at the Altmer and Argonian, Piper’s raised eyebrow began to furrow when she met Keegan’s gaze, but turned into a glare as she locked eyes with Tsleeixth. Snapping her head back to her brother, the two kept on walking, now seemingly arguing about something.