[center][h2]Skin[/h2]
by [@Stormflyx] and [@Mortarion]
[/center]
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[i]Early afternoon, 23rd of Last Seed, 4E08
Anvil[/i]

The Breton rolled over across the bed in The Bright Glass. Unaware of the time. It must have been late because the sun was shining aggressively through the window. She just felt tired and sore throughout her body. As she lay quietly, looking at the empty half of the bed, small flashbacks crept back to her, bringing a smile to her face. She wondered where Gregor had gone, but she knew that he may have felt some shame or awkwardness about it all. She had undressed his polite facade and unleashed his monster. She had the bruises to prove it. She lay back with a smug expression, replaying the events in her mind. Their two bodies entwined, limbs tangled beneath sheets. 

After a moment, she summoned up her Magicka and ran healing hands over herself to lessen the appearance of the various bruises, marks, bites… She bathed herself in the golden light, enjoying it's warmth. If she walked out into the streets with a bruised throat, she might have the City Guards asking her questions… She did however, choose to leave two hand-like bruises that were burnt into her hips from where Gregor had held her down at one point. She wanted to hold onto at least one pleasurably painful reminder of their night for as long as possible...

This afternoon wasn’t a day for dressing in her good garments, besides, her new cloak was torn. She would have to have it taken to a seamstress. So she slipped on her trousers, her boots, and a simple tunic undershirt, folding the cloak across her arms. She pulled up her hair, which was knotted and tangled upon her head, and pinned it in place. She felt fresh, and ready to explore Anvil again, happy that tomorrow she would soon be setting sail for High Rock, leaving this dastardly mess behind her. Part of her was scared, anxious even at the thought. Part of her was torn by the idea of staying with the group. They had proven themselves capable in the battle against the Dwemer so far. They also had some semblance of an idea of what was happening. Although she wouldn’t admit it, she had grown fond of a few of them. 

During her walk back to [i]The Flowing Bowl[/i], she managed to catch a glimpse of the instantly recognisable Argonian, Jaraleet, in the distance. His colouring was distinct. With a smile, she made her way over, wondering if without her torn, blood spattered cloaks and ornate jewels he would recognise her at all. She could be a common townswoman right now. Presented clean and simply.

“Good afternoon Jaraleet,” she called out to him in a friendly manner to grab his attention. She could use this meeting as an opportunity to check up on his wounds. It had been a while since it had happened, but perhaps if she showed him some kind aftercare, she might be able to squeeze a septim or two from his claws.

“Ah, Raelynn, good afternoon.” Jaraleet said in response to Raelynn’s words. He had to admit, she looked much different now than the last time that he had seen here but, even with the change in clothes, Jaraleet was good at remembering faces and, as such, he was able to identify the Breton woman easily enough. “It is good to see you.” He added once he had closed the distance between himself and her. “How have you been holding up? You were with the Rangers too when the Dwemer ambushed us.” He asked, a note of concern on his voice. 

He hadn’t been able to talk much with Raelynn, aside from their small talk in the aftermath of the raid in Elenglynn, but he had noticed that the Breton woman hadn’t seemed to be too well in the last couple of weeks. Unfortunately, he hadn’t been able to talk with her once they had gotten to Anvil until now but the fact that she seemed to be in a much better mood seemed like a good indication to Jaraleet that Raelynn was feeling better. 

“I am very well, thank you,” she answered with a smile. He had instantly brought up the Dwemer ambush. Maybe he still had it on his mind - whereas she was pushing it as far back as possible. “I have been taking some time to relax, and as a matter of fact I'm leaving tomorrow evening to go back to High Rock, so you could say I'm… saying my goodbyes to my friends.” She gave him a smile, hoping it would distract Jaraleet from thinking too much about all of the interaction and friendship building that hadn't really occurred between the two of them at all. “Maybe I could take one last look at your injuries too before I leave. I would very much like that.”

“I am glad to hear that my friend.” Jaraleet replied with an easy-going smile when Raelynn mentioned that she was well. The smile fell off of his face somewhat when she mentioned that she was leaving on the evening of the next day to return to her native home of High Rock. “It is a shame that you will leave this company so soon but, nonetheless, if you think it’s the best course of action for you, I wish you the best Raelynn.” He said, smiling once more to the Breton woman. 

“It’d be a good idea to have my wounds checked, it’s not like there was much of a chance for me to treat them too much in the frantic trip towards here.” The Argonian said, nodding slightly at Raelynn’s last suggestion. “Shall we head back to the inn then? I’d wager that’d be more comfortable than you checking my wounds in the middle of the street.” He said with a light chuckle, waiting for Raelynn’s confirmation before he began walking back towards [i]The Flowing Bowl[/i]. “You know, it really is a shame that you are leaving. Here I was hoping you’d treat me to one of those infusions of yours like you had promised.” The assassin joked as they made their way back towards the inn, letting out a soft chuckle. 

“I don't know, I do feel an unfamiliar pull to stay a while longer…” she spoke quietly and contemplatively. Thinking of the dangers she had already been exposed to. “Maybe you can convince me to stick around Jaraleet. Let's see to your wounds.” Raelynn smiled and walked with him to the Inn, hoping she wouldn't run into Gregor there. At least not while she was heading to the Argonian’s room. It would be frightfully awkward.  

She returned a chuckle as he mentioned the tea. She did have some florals she could easily brew for him if he was being serious, she couldn't quite tell. Her concentrated mind was elsewhere. “How have you been keeping yourself busy in Anvil then?” 

Jaraleet couldn’t help but smile slightly when Raelynn mentioned that she fell a strange pull to remain for a while longer. He didn’t gave voice to his thoughts, but part of him was genuinely glad that the Breton healer was considering staying while the other, more pragmatic and mission-oriented, part of him was merely glad that such a skilled healer wouldn’t be leaving the group. “Indeed, let us do so.” He replied to her comment about seeing to his wounds, guiding her towards his room in  [i]The Flowing Bowl[/i].

“Hmm, well, I’ve wandered a bit around the city, there were a few acquaintances of mine here in Anvil that I took the chance to visit while we were here. I also took the opportunity to buy some basic necessities in case we had to return to the road sooner rather than latter.” The argonian began to say in response to Raelynn’s question. “Hmmmm, aside from that I’ve not done much. I’ve encountered a few members of our group, such as Alim and Judena, and chatted with them for a bit. What about you Raelynn?”  

“Much of the same, rest, relaxation and just some general… [i]stress relief[/i],” she sighed happily. “I think about all of us are staying here. It's a wonder I haven't seen more of you.” Her eyes flickered across the scene inside the Inn. It was relatively quiet again, “I'm surprised they had room for us all. I take it you're staying with the group too then Jaraleet? I'm afraid I never got to find out much about you when we met. Colour me interested, tell me about yourself.” 

“Hmmm, that is good to hear. In times such as this one, it is imperative to be able to find time, not to mention ways, to relieve stress.” The Argonian commented, chuckling softly. He could guess what Raelynn meant by the way she sighed happily. “Though it [i]is[/i] rather surprising that we didn’t run into each other sooner. One would think that we would have plenty of opportunities to cross into each other given the fact we are staying at the same inn.” He added, laughing slightly as they made their way throughout the inn.

“Hmmm, it doesn’t seems that surprising to me. I doubt that many of the people of Anvil wish to stay for the night at the tavern and of the refugees that arrived with us, well, I doubt that they have enough coin to spare to waste on a prolonged stay in the inn, or to rent a room at all.” He answered with a light shrug. It wasn’t a pretty answer by any means, but it was most likely the truth. “As for an answer to your second question, yes, I am staying with the group as long as they will have me.” Jaraleet said while walking up the stairs towards the room that he had rented. 

“I’m afraid my life isn’t that interesting.” He replied to her final question after a few seconds. “My father was a hunter and mother was an alchemist, both lucrative trades back in Helstrom so life wasn’t too bad,” Jaraleet continued with his tale, pausing for a few seconds. “Well, at first. Mother died during when I was but….10, or 12, I want to say? I don’t remember much from that time. Father turned to the bottle, a dangerous thing to do when you are a hunter as I’m sure you can imagine. I tried to help him but, well, it was only a matter of time until his reckless drinking cost him...and it did, he lost an arm during a hunt.” 

“After that...well, let’s just say I saw myself in the employ of Argonia’s armies but things didn’t turn out for the best. I was forced to flee home and ply my trade here in Cyrodiil as a mercenary.” The Haj-Eix said, pausing for a second as they reached the room he had rented and he began searching for the key to the door in his pockets. “I was thinking about retiring, had even bought a home in the Waterfront district, but, well, the sacking changed those plans.” He finished with his tale as he swung the door open. “After you.” 

One thing that she had noticed in Jaraleet so far, was that he had a clever knack of just getting straight to the point. She liked it. He didn't dance around the point, or flower up his stories. He spoke of things how they were. A trait she often trusted in people, for she was similar. She let him tell her his story and she listened with interest. “It's quite a life you have led, I think there is still mystery to you, but where would the fun be if I didn't just allow myself to learn over time?” 

“I'm sorry to hear about your father, truly.” She walked into his room first, and allowed him time to enter and get comfortable. “I will need you to remove your upper clothing,” she said in an obvious tone once the door was closed.

“Indeed. Life would be pretty boring if it didn’t have mysteries in it, wouldn’t it?” Jaraleet said, letting out a soft chuckle in response to her comment about his life. “Thank you Raelynn, I appreciate the sentiment.” He said, smiling softly due to her comment. He followed into his room shortly after she had entered and closed the door, nodding when she mentioned that he needed to remove his upper clothing. 

Without hesitation, Jaraleet took off his shirt and threw it in the bed. His chest came into view, scarred almost in its entirety due to years and years of work as an assassin and due to the training he had underwent in his childhood; the only thing that interrupted the mass of scars were a pair of bandages haphazardly put together over the wounds that he had received during the Dwemer ambush and in the ensuing combat to escape from it. 

She moved closer to the Argonian and began to carefully peel away the bandages. Not that it took much to do so, they were falling off, and it was a wonder they were still on in the first place. She gasped softly as she looked at the wound, smirking to herself before she began to speak, “it appears I lied to you about having a scar Jaraleet. This skin looks about as good as new. In fact I'm quite amazed at myself…” It really was something, she wasn't too surprised, her healing skills were exceptional. “Good healing hands are worth their weight in gold,” she commented sweetly, scrunching up the bandages in her hands.

She did take the time to start running her fingers across his other scars. “I wonder if we could patch these up too… Although I recall you telling me that you enjoy them. It would be an experiment I would be interested in one day… Argonian skin remains something of a mystery to me,” she let her voice trail off, a slightly unnerving tone to it while she spoke her last words. She quickly snapped out of it and returned to look at Jaraleet with her usual smile. “I think that’s about it.”

“They are reminders of what I’ve been through….of what I’ve lived, if you will. I suppose that, in that sense, I do enjoy them.” Jaraleet replied to Raelynn’s comment, the shift in tone that her voice took having not gone unnoticed by the assassin. It didn’t phase him too much, albeit the change in demeanor, no matter how brief, had certainly been surprising and it did only increase the Haj-Eix’s suspicions that there was more to the Breton healer than the image that she liked to present. “Though it seems that, thanks to your skills, I won’t be adding another scar quite yet, your skills in Restoration are truly impressive Raelynn.” He added as a response to her earlier words about there not being any scarring due to the procedure that she had done to cure the wound from the Dwemer’s mysterious weapon. 

“And you were correct in saying that good healing hands are worth their weight in gold.” The assassin continued, deciding that it wouldn’t hurt to stay on the Breton’s good side. “Please, give me a second.” He said, turning his back from Raelynn and towards the rest of the room. A few moments passed in silence as the Argonian rummaged through his room until he found his backpack, and yet a few more moments passed as he searched through it’s contents. “Here,” He said as he deposited a small bag on Raelynn’s hands, of about 50 septims or so, before continuing to speak. “Normally I’d invite you to a drink, or even to a meal if that’s your preference, but I must admit I am a bit short on septims as of late but, regardless of that, your work deserves compensation of some sort, I merely hope that what I’ve given is enough.” The assassin finished, offering the Breton healer a smile.  

She took the bag and smiled at him, slipping it into her pockets. “Well, I should probably be leaving. I have a few errands to run my friend. I hope our paths cross again…” She gave him a friendly touch on the arm before making her way out of his room, and back across to her own. She felt the familiar jingling of the coins in her pocket, and an arrogant smile crossed her lips. [i]All in a afternoon's work…[/i] she thought to herself as she entered her room and immediately approached her table. She wanted to stay in the Argonian’s good graces still, and she set about brewing him some tea that he had fancied.


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Later that day, she had a pot and cup of Lavender and floral tea sent to the Argonian’s room, with a note attached; “Liquid Vigour - as promised”.