[i]5th of Midyear, Gilane[/i] 

The populace was unhappy with Dwemer rule. They were foreign invaders. The idea stuck with her.

Anifaire watched Gilane through a bubble. From her bench, she saw shopkeep-customer interactions; she saw mothers and children; she saw tired workers returning home before curfew, when she would return inside as well. She watched as a guard patrol travelled through the streets and thought nothing of it. She sat atop her bench and observed the surroundings, watching and passing judgements. Yes, Gilane was lovely. Yes, the Dwemer were there, in the flesh and fascinating. 

Questions never came to mind. Sitting day to day, she feared heading into the city, thinking she would get lost or some other misfortune would befall her, like in the Imperial City. From the safety of her bench, she observed the world, wondering what it was like to be part of it. 

It was like the way she observed the rest of the group, wondering what it was like to be part of it. Because she wasn’t. Not really. She tagged along, she made trouble, she got in the way. She bothered Alim. Her skills didn’t help. She was afraid of every encounter. She was afraid of each risk. 

Anifaire immediately stood up, hesitating in front of the bench, hovering before she took another step. She would get lost if she left. She would run into guards, thieves, or otherwise no-good folks. She knew it. She knew she couldn’t handle it. She knew so much as being in a city on her own was beyond her capabilities. She deflated, her face falling, knees bending, as she dropped back into the bench in defeat. Her hands twitched, folding the trim of her shirt this way and that. 

She wondered what it would be like to be like the others. They knew their strengths. They knew how to live in this world, while she didn’t know how to survive in any world save her parent’s manor. She berated herself. Pathetic. She wondered what it would feel like to be like Alim. He knew cities, familiar and not, he knew how to travel through them, he knew how to deal with a fight. And he wouldn’t consider her anything other than something to look out for. Or what it would be like to be Nanine. She was a mage, like Anifaire, but she knew useful things, like fighting. She was confident; she pursues her curiosities. She wasn’t a burden. Brynja - Brynja was strong and certain in her convictions. Anifaire wondered what she herself had. 

It was pathetic, she thought, that she couldn’t so much as wander around a city while everyone else could fight Falmer and pick locks and scale walls undetected and conjure ice and fire and swing swords and axes. 

She huffed. Standing up from the bench one more time, she didn’t let herself second guess. She set off, walking down the street without a destination, determined to see other parts of the city she hadn’t before. 

Anifaire tried to keep track of landmarks as she walked, a signpost here, a shop’s sign there, hoping she would be able to find her way back. She didn’t travel too many streets away, fearing the worst. 

It was more difficult to watch people’s interactions when she was one of them. The experience was completely different. Instead of watching as other made purchases and brushed past each other in crowds, she herself walked among them. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, dear,” an elderly Redguard lady said as she bumped into Anifaire on her way out of a shop. 

“Watch where you’re going!” an irritable young Dwemer snapped when she made the same mistake to him. 

“Anything in particular you’re lookin’ for?” a shopkeeper asked her as she browsed his wares - fine fabrics, specifically. She had a fondness for soft clothes, and was delighted to look, even if she didn’t have the coin or a reason to purchase such luxuries. 

Some people were friendly to her, and a few were irritable. The city wasn’t unlike her experiences in Alinor or the Imperial City, but being alone had her trembling with nervousness when she first set out to see more sights. By the time she reached the end of the street of shops she was looking for, perhaps one street away from the Three Crowns, she realized her fear had faded, replaced with something new: a simple fascination with life. 

This time, Anifaire recognized the nearby landmark she had planned to stick near with ease. The Altmer traveled back towards the inn, as it was nearing dinnertime. 

As she entered the Three Crowns and sat herself down to eat, she wondered what it would be like to experience something truly exciting. If a bit of window shopping was as interesting an experience as it had been, she considered what it might be like to explore an old ruin or to travel along the sea, to find strange landmarks and meet odd people. 

The waitress set the plate of food down in front of Anifaire, a glass of wine accompanying it, and as she went to eat, she reflexively picked up her fork in a careful fashion. She stopped before eating, remembering what Daro’Vasora had said at the party, and her recent thoughts of adventure. She placed the fork back on the table, intending to pick up the drumstick with her hand, as she’d seen many people do. But, she couldn’t do it. After a bit of consternation, she lifted the fork and knife and began eating in a polite, delicate manner. 

After all, Anifaire just wasn’t the type of girl who had adventures. She wasn’t the type who traveled, or ate with her hands, or spoke with new people, or fought with skill and precision. No, Anifaire ate with a fork and knife, precisely, and drank her one, small glass of red wine, and she couldn’t be anything else, she thought. But even as she ate, a part of her recalled the sense of excitement she had felt at exploring a new street with new shops and people, unlike Alinor, unlike the Imperial City, and wondered how she could be that girl instead.