[center][h3]A Drink, he said, To Old Times…[/h3] [i]by Shafty and Greenie[/i][/center] [hr] [i]13th of Midyear Three Crowns Hotel Gilane, Hammerfell[/i] The library of this Hotel left little to want for. Anything from manuals on spells, biographies, fiction and non-fiction, fencing treatises, alchemy and gardening, and everything in-between. Latro had poured through the fencing treatises on everything from Gaius’s [i]A Defense of the Phalanx in Modern Warfare[/i] to [i]On Killing[/i] by some ancient Tsaesci warrior whose name he wouldn’t even try to pronounce, dated to a time that boggled his mind to think it had traveled from Torval and meandered through the countless years to rest in his hands in a dusty library in Hammerfell. He shut the book, sighing. He looked to his firelit left, flames of the fireplace crackling like whips and sending light that made every shadow present dance across the rows of books on their shelves. Nestled among the books though was a fully stocked shelf of liquor, bottles of every size and shape from the mundane to magical upon it, a multicolored galaxy of alcohols from different cultures. Naturally, he reached for the wine bottle first. A red from Colovia. A nice vintage, the cork still sealing the bottle’s secrets from the outside world. He thought for a bit to uncork the bottle and go at it alone, but he stopped in the task of finding a corkscrew or a knife. He thought of one person he hadn’t shared a drink, nor even a word with, in such a long time. Not since before all of this came crashing down on them. [i]Meg,[/i] Latro smiled. Perhaps a drink to old times would be a good way to loosen his nerves and get him back to a sense of normalcy. He missed her, truth be told, he missed everyone. He hadn’t spoken a word to any of them besides Jaraleet, Gregor, and Raelynn for gods knew how long. A shame, he thought, but that would change. He would make sure of it. He wouldn’t let even the tiny defeat of holing himself up in the library or any other place no one was at take hold of his mind and put his peace and soul in an early grave. So, he made his way towards the woman that had been his drinking buddy once before but ever since, guided with the pointed fingers and words of the Hotel staff until he was standing at her door, holding the wine by the neck of the bottle, still unopened. He raised his hand to knock but paused. He didn’t know how the events of the past few weeks had gripped her. Would she send him away under the accusations of being nothing but a fair-weather friend? No, he shook his head, rapped his knuckles lightly on the door, “Meg,” he said, “It’s, um, it’s Latro. Do you have a moment?” After a little moment the door opened, and it was clear that Meg was surprised to see who was on the other side. "Latro!" she explained, a smile breaking out on her face as she quickly stepped back and opened the door. "'Course, c'mon in!" She hadn't really been busy since the previous night- having slept in once more after her night out in the men's room, she had woken up and shifted herself sleepily to her own room where once more she had decided to snooze in. Everybody was probably making preparations for Sora's escape plan, but there was nothing she really had to prep for aside from her nerves. Grabbing at one of the chairs from the table, she pulled it out and motioned at it with her head. "Sit down. Doubt anyone's gonna be comin' here for a bit." She was beaming, looking a little excited. "How're y'doin'? T'was worrisome thinkin' you were caught up..." Looking a little sheepish, she pulled out another chair and sat down herself. "Sorry I didn' greet ya last night." “Please, don’t apologize,” he said, easy smile on his lips as he took the offered seat, “It’s been a very hectic few days, not to speak of the past few weeks. I’m glad we’re both…” He let his voice trail off, not wanting to remind them both of their mortality when everything else was reminding them already, “I’m glad I came to see you again.” He smiled, setting the wine bottle on the table, “I’ve come bearing gifts. For old times.” He smiled as he unsheathed his knife, poking the tip of it into the cork and carefully twisting. Slowly, but surely, the thing was coming loose. He spoke as he worked, “I’ve been… well enough. I’d heard you met Sevari.” He smiled, glancing at her and chuckling, “Say what you want of the man, but I think he does have a good heart inside him. He saved my life before his own. Anyways, how are you? We haven’t spoken in…” He shook his head and chuckled, finally pulling the cork free and sitting back down with a satisfied grin at a job done, “Well, let my silence speak on the length of time.” Meg eyed the gift of alcohol and let out a chuckle. "Jaraleet'd pro'ly be yellin' somethin' about Sithis at me drinkin' again but he ain' here." She reached out for the glasses that were already resting on the table next to a pitcher of water and pushed them towards Latro. "Aye, we haven' talked in a bit..." she agreed, giving the man a small smile. "But ain' like life's been simply lettin' us just live, eh?" Her smile wavered as she shook her head, looking at the table. "Aye, I met Sevari... he saved Jaraleet when me an' him were out tryin' t'figure out where Sora was. He told us they had you too..." She looked up and reached out, putting a hand on his arm for a moment. "Mara knows I'm happy yer back. Sevari said y'both were safe an' all but..." She let her words hang in the air. "I'm doin'... well as good as I can' I s'pose." She hesitated a little before looking at the man again. "Made a friend with a kid on the streets-" She grinned a little and tugged at her hair. "Got m'hair cut 'cause of all this bloody heat." She nodded towards him, curiosity clear in her eyes. "An' you?" “Why would Jaraleet be judging you for drinking?” Latro asked, brow cocking at the question. “He never caught me as the type to judge any time we’ve struck out together. Accepting, actually.” Meg hastily shook her head. "Oh, no, I didn' mean it like that," she replied, in a hurry to make sure she didn't give the wrong impression. "He'd jus' worry is all. I got kinda really drunk at the party..." She gave the man a sheepish grin before continuing. “Guess both of ya been spendin’ lotsa time together? He tol’ me last night you an’ him were on a mission with Sevari…” Latro stopped as he poured his and Meg’s cups. He cleared his throat, continuing on, “Yes, we were.” “He’s my friend, I like to think. I never thought I’d find a friend in that man, but I’ve found him valuable and loyal in keeping me company through situations where I’m nervous.” Latro nodded, sipping his wine, his easy smile as he remembered his times with Jaraleet, “He’s definitely my friend.” "That's good t'hear," Meg replied with a smile of her own. She'd always thought about how she was lonely and sought companionship, but her talk with Jaraleet from the previous night made her realize that he was just as vulnerable as she was, even if he didn't realize it, and even if others didn't. "Honest... I'm glad. He could use another friend." She took a sip of her wine; grinning, she set it back done. "Lovely," she commented, feeling her leg wiggle under the table. "I don' believe I've tried this 'fore, so thanks." She took yet another sip, let out a satisfied sigh before leaning back in her chair. It was strange but this felt nice; it almost felt as if there wasn't an impending high risk mission that would take all of their strength and skills to survive. She eyed Latro; what could possibly be going through his mind? He was the closest of them all to Sora, her friend, her lover. Biting on the inside of her lip, she sat up straight. "We're gonna get her back," she told him. "Count on it." He forced his easy smile onto his face and turned away from her as he sipped at his wine. He cleared his throat and quietly took in a shuddering breath. As backwards as it sounded, he didn’t want to remind himself of Sora’s predicament. He did what he said he’d never do and he left her there. There was no one else to blame. He wiped at his eye, trying to make it seem like there was something else in it other than a quickly-forming tear. He hoped to delude himself before the mission into thinking Sora was only out shopping or taking a walk around the Hotel. Even that thought burned him, he sighed, “Yeah, with this crack team, I wouldn’t worry about anything,” he chuckled and decided to switch subjects, “How do you like it, the wine?” Immediately feeling bad for bringing up a painful subject, Meg lunged at the change of subject like someone in a hole grabbing onto rope. She took another sip of her drink and licked her lips once she swallowed, giving Latro a grin. "Tastes won'erful," she replied, grinning. "I'm more an ale an' mead lass m'self, but its nice t'indulge." Her head tilted and she tapped at her chin. “I never asked, you been t’Skyrim? Right outside Whiterun there’s a meadery, Honningbrew Meadery. De-li-cious.” Smiling she leaned closer to the table,resting her arms upon it and then her chin in the palm of her hand. “Used t’deliver for ‘em before I left for my adventurin’ life.” She wiggled the fingers of her free hand. “Sticky fingers- I gotta drink a li’l more than I should’ve.” Latro nodded, throat preoccupied with swallowing the wine at first before he smiled, “Yes, actually, mostly the West. From Solitude to Whiterun to Falkreath. It’s a beautiful country, cold as it is.” He sighed, remembering his travels with Francis, how they’d wandered almost the entirety of Northwestern Tamriel, indulging in cultures and watching Francis participate in duels. “I remember that Francis, my mentor, had taken our travels through Whiterun. He good-heartedly challenged one of the Companions there to a duel to first-yield.” He smiled, “Francis won. Good fighters, Nords, but a sword in the hands of Francis Martell just becomes a blur of steel. His bastard sword was commissioned from Eorlund, the man who works the skyforge.” “Have you watched the duels in Whiterun? The Companions accept anyone worthy’s challenge. Honor and all that.” He said. A look of enthusiasm came to Meg's face as she listened to Latro speak of her homeland. It had been so long since she'd talked to someone who knew of the places she'd lived in, visited them and enjoyed them. It gave her both a happy yet nostalgic feeling, a slight tightening in her stomach and a happy sting in her eyes. Talos, how she missed Skyrim. "I watched a few duels, aye!" Meg got to her feet even as she spoke, eager to show something as she headed to where she slept. "Never fought in 'em myself- I was doin' delivery work mostly or helpin' Pa- we lived there, in Whiterun. Pa's still there, with his wife an m'li'l brother. My Ma- she used t'be with the Companions long 'fore I came along..." It wasn't long before she returned, her sword in hand. It was clearly Skyforge steel, and though it was old, it had been taken care of. Meg carefully set it down on the table for Latro to see. "This was my Ma's, given t'her as a reward for a quest. Pa gave it t'me when we reached Whiterun." Sighing softly, she settled back down and sipped some more on her wine. "Divines know how much I miss it. I always wanted t'travel an' go places- now that I'm places, I feel like goin' back home. The snow, the trees, the night skies… even just watchin’ the giants an’ mammoths an’ hopin’ not t’get tossed or squashed like the last unlucky bugger-" She stopped herself from carrying on and gulped down her wine until her cup was empty. Latro was given pause as Meg laid the sword before him. His eyes were orbs of awe as his fingers slowly inches closer to it, tips softly gliding along the leather of the sheath. It radiated quality and divine craftsmanship. This was a Eorlund blade. He knew. “My gods,” he breathed, “It is beautiful.” “May I?” He asked his permission to pick the blade up and when it was given, he gingerly held it in his palms. The crossguard and pommel were adorned with intricate knotwork indicative of Eorlund’s Nordic style. Francis’ bastard sword, although a blade from a different culture, still held the same motifs if not the overall shape. It was an elegant blade, he could see how gently the blade itself tapered towards the point, lending a good balance. The edge was well-used, nicks in the cutting edge of it could be seen in the patina but it was still polish-bright regardless. He put the blade back to rest in its sheath and set it down. A single breath escaped him as his gaze lingered for a few more precious seconds on the sword. “Beautiful,” he nodded, smiling to Meg and sipped at his wine, “You are so very lucky to be wielding a Eorlund blade.” Meg flushed, rubbing the back of her head in an embarrassed manner. "Guess yer righ'," she replied with a small nod. Reaching over for the bottle, she topped her cup once more before continuing. "If I'm bein' honest with ya, I never really thought 'bout where t'was forged... more it belonged to my Ma..." Smiling sheepishly, she then took a small sip of wine before setting her cup back on the table once more. "I wasn' happy when Pa an' me had t'leave Riften, but Pa curbed that anger an' taught me how t'use a sword... gave me this after I got good." Her smile changed to one of fondness as she looked upon the blade. "Makes me feel close to a Ma I never really knew, y'know?" “I know the feeling.” Latro said, voice soft as he placed a small polished stone upon the table next to Meg’s sword. “This is the only thing I have left of my family ties. I’ve lived with Francis for years until now and still this little rock has stayed with me longer than some friends I’ve had. It’s a piece of ebony.” “I’ll sometimes just hold it and toy with it if I can’t sleep, which is more than you’d think.” He smiled wistfully, eyes on the table but mind wandering back a ways, “It was a good life I had. I just didn’t know it until I left it. But good comes and goes, I’m happy a few people took me in and now I have a new family.” He smiled as he raised his cup, emptying the remainder of its wine in a few gulps, “I’m lucky to have the lot of you.” "An' now [i]I[/i] know the feelin'." Meg smiled back, a soft chuckle escaping her. "It's been what... two bloody months of... just everythin', an' any of us could've just decided t'head off, but we stuck together. Jerall, Imperial City, Skingrad, Anvil... Gilane." She gulped down half of the drink in her cup, letting out a soft sigh. "Travellin' with a group was never how I did things but... y'all're m’family now, I love y’all. Even the thought’ve havin' to leave y'all is... well... I try not t'think of it." She studied the wine in her cup before drinking more. "Seems like a kid's wish, eh? But maybe wishin' like a kid ain' tha' bad." Latro smiled into his wine cup at Meg’s words. It struck something in him that had been dormant since Sora’s kidnapping and display. For the first time in a while, Latro felt good in somebody’s presence. “No,” he said, “I guess it isn’t.” Meg couldn't help but smile back at Latro. There were quite a few times she felt that perhaps her views or ideas were deemed silly or naive. Hearing his agreement gave her some validation, and she felt herself relax even more. This was nice, two friends simply sharing a drink and for the time being, forgetting about the darkness of the world. "We should do this more." Draining her cup, Meg leaned back, appreciating the moment. "Feels nice."