[h3]The Eye of the Storm[/h3]
Hank and I wrote stuff
[hr]

[i]Late afternoon, 14th of Midyear, 4E208
The oasis, Alik’r desert, Hammerfell[/i]


At least the Khajiit had managed to scrape together the decency to make himself comfortable some distance away from the others, close to the entrance of the cave. Gregor, devoid of his black battledress and his weapons, looked far less menacing than the last time the two of them had met and as he approached and sank down on his haunches in front of Zaveed, he seemed almost harmless. He had rolled up the sleeves of his shirt to expose the tattoos on his forearms, the raven-haired woman and the tally marks, and his hair was rough and disheveled from the day’s fighting and the sweat that had dried up in it. 

A few seconds of tense silence passed while Gregor studied Zaveed intently, taking in the sight of him from tip to toe; the earrings, the mohawk, the eyes, the claws on his fingers. His face did not show the distaste he felt for the Khajiit, firmly set into an impassive mask, but Gregor’s eyes betrayed him. They were not soft and warm anymore. They were black as coal and hard as steel and the lines beneath them were deep. 

“You look well,” Gregor said matter-of-factly, speaking at last, his voice cutting through the silence like a hot knife through butter. 

“I cannot say the same for you. You look like shit.” Zaveed replied. He was sitting with his wrists resting on his knees, his armour, shirt and weapons stayed neatly laid out by his bed roll nearby, save for a pistol and his dagger that sat on either side of him; he had silently elected to keep watch. Across his torso many scars were visible, especially the ones Gregor and his beast had added to the tally. The Khajiit had met Gregor’s stare unflinchingly with an air of indifference.

“Too bad when you tried to rob me of my vitality, my naturally handsome looks didn't go with it, yes?” Zaveed said, rolling his jaw. “Get to the point; I tire of games, Gregor.”

The Imperial narrowed his eyes at Zaveed’s demanding tone, but he did not bite. “I do. The Redguard’s dagger was poisoned.” His tone hovered between sharp and conversational and he looked away, towards the exit and across the dunes of the Alik’r that stretched to the horizon. “Took a while before I received the… appropriate medical attention.” Gregor’s jaw worked, as if he was mulling something over.

“Look,” he said abruptly and returned his gaze to Zaveed while he held up his hands for him to inspect. His fingers trembled slightly. “Nerve damage. Funnily enough, it goes away when I’m about to fight. Or fuck, for that matter.” Gregor smiled faintly and dropped his hands again. “I was wondering if your brush with… well, you know, would leave any lasting effects. It seems you’ve made a full recovery, haven’t you? Very fortunate.” The smile had left Gregor’s face. “Very fortunate indeed,” he repeated, emphasizing every word. 

Zaveed didn't balk at the unspoken accusation. “Ah, yes, I forgot to thank dear Nadeen for unintentionally saving my life. I fear I won't get another chance at it; she just happened to hate you slightly more than I.” the privateer grinned at the Imperial. “And yes, it was rather fortunate that Raelynn took pity on me and decided to save my life instead. She is quite a talented healer; an art that is not common enough, I'm afraid. I'm no worse for wear, save for a few sleepless nights or feeling Namiira's tendrils trying to close about my throat.” Zaveed admitted.

Unlike the simmering anger and loathing Gregor kept behind a mask, Zaveed's tone, while terse, was still conversational and rather unperturbed. He would not show fear to this man; there was nothing to fear. Gregor had already played his hand, there would be no more surprises. 

“For what it's worth, I hope you regain full sensation in your hands. Hard to shit out horrors when you lack fine motor control.” Zaveed said, catching an almost imperceptible shift in the man's gaze. “The others have no clue what you are, do they?”

“No,” Gregor said flatly, without hesitation. There was no point in denying it. His reason for approaching Zaveed hinged entirely on that fact. “Well, that’s not entirely true. Jaraleet knows. Raelynn knows. But the others don’t.” 

The hard edge that fell across his features made it evident that he meant what was about to come next with absolute conviction. “It is better if it stays that way for the time being,” Gregor said. “I have my reasons for what I do. Good reasons. But they are not easy to explain. Considering your outstanding debt to me, I trust that I can count on your silence,” he added and cocked his head slightly. “Say, are you familiar with a clean-shaven Dwemer officer that worked in the palace? Quite close with the governor, as I understand it.”

The Khajiit nodded. “I owe you nothing, Gregor, but your business with the others is not my concern. You may not think it, but to me, you are not my enemy. While I find your tactics…” Zaveed clucked his tongue, searching for an appropriate word. “In poor taste, I do not begrudge you for having used them. You are not the first person to try to kill me, you will not be the last. Just do not presume that because you failed in taking my soul to fuel your disgusting crusade that I have my life indebted to you. Your [I]girlfriend[/I] was the one who saw to my salvation, and I will honour that act if nothing else.” he said with an air of finality. 

Zaveed leaned back, stretching out on the soft ground with with his jaw opened wide before propping himself up on his elbow. He looked about at the camp and the people milling about, and he caught sight of Sevari having a rather animated discussion with that Janelle woman. He rolled his eyes, turning his attention back to Gregor. “I do know him. Major Kerztar, he was my… employer for my duration in the Dwemeri hospitality. Not an unreasonable man, for a Deep Elf who forced me to serve his little task force at gunpoint. I take you encountered him, then?”

“Your boss? Fancy that. I did. Would you like to meet him again? He’s in the bottom of my backpack right now,” Gregor said and smiled. “Here’s the thing. If you remain true to your word and you do not involve yourself in my business with the others, then I shall find within my heart to agree with you. There is no debt. You were just a lowly pawn and a brute who was put into an impossible position by the Dwemer. The things you did… well, that was really your master’s fault, wasn’t it? The sword is not responsible for the wounds it inflicts. As its stands right now, my lover is safe and sound after all, while Rourken’s lover will be sacrificed to the maw behind the stars. Looks like I won, and that settles our quarrel.” His voice was condescending, like he was explaining something to a child, and his eyes were depthless in their malice. 

“Does that sound like an interpretation of the events that you can agree with?” Gregor asked. 

Zaveed rolled his eyes, laying back down again with his hands behind his head, closing his eyes. “Must you always be so grim? It is tiresome. Yes, yes, you rob people of a proper afterlife because you’re following the whims of some arcane quest I don’t care much to guess what the end goal must be. If you consider that a victory, hooray, good for you. Go enjoy the spoils.” Zaveed replied with mock enthusiasm before letting out a drawn out sigh, a single eye opening to take in the gloating Imperial. “I did what I did because I am very good at it, you see. Several decades on a ship, raiding fat merchants and putting smugglers to the blade, you see and do things that you don’t quite imagine yourself doing when you are a young cub looking at those tall masts like freedom. And they are… but freedom comes at a cost, and that often is blood. 

“Who am I to question that a group of terrorists who tortured an innocent administrator to death need to be dealt with? Raelynn wasn’t the first person I’ve interrogated, and for what it’s worth? I take no pleasure in that particular deed. I just wanted to do my job to work off my sentence and hopefully get back to sea where I belong. You were all once my enemy, now you are not. I do not see why you have yourself so worked up over my presence here.” Zaveed asked conversationally. “We didn’t have to wait, but  we did because we have a common cause with you lot. Don’t flatter yourself that I give a single shit about your megalomaniacal impulses, Gregor. You’re rather insufferable when you’re gloating, and if you decided to pick up where we left off again… you won’t have fingers to wave your little horrors into existence. You know I tell the truth of the matter.”

Satisfied, Gregor rose to his full height and looked down on Zaveed. “You talk a lot of shit for a cat that I’ve seen tremble with fear at my feet,” he said frankly, having dropped all pretense and venom from his voice. He’d gotten what he wanted, which meant that any energy spent on further trying to intimidate the Khajiit was a waste. “Our business is finished.” He turned to leave but stopped himself. “Oh, one more thing. Stay away from Raelynn. She hates your guts.” 

“For a man who is so weak he has to have puppets do his dirty work, you’re one to talk. I saw the fear in your eyes, when my axe dug closer and closer to your heart. That was [I]me[/I] who did that, not some monster that you were gifted by prostrating yourself to some Daedric master. I am a free man, and you are a slave. You have no power over me, and you can’t do anything to stop me without revealing your grotesque nature to everyone. Do you think they’re [I]really[/I] going to accept you after that? Stand by you?” Zaveed kicked out his legs and was suddenly on his feet, staring Gregor in the eyes. 

“I can deal with being hated because I am [I]alive[/I], you slavering cretin. Did Raelynn tell you I tried to help her drive my own dagger into my heart? I don’t fear death, Gregor. But you do.” He said, jabbing a claw into the man’s chest and leaning in close, their foreheads almost touching.  “Remember that the next time you wish to try to have a quaint little chat with yours truly; if you try to fuck with me again, you will receive a shot between your eyes faster than you can pull whichever little toy your own masters gifted you out from your tightly wound sphincter. If anything happens to me, do you honestly think Sevari or Sirine will hesitate to drive a dagger into Raelynn’s throat?” he stepped away, gazing distastefully at his claw before wiping it off on his trousers. 

“You can either stop being a dullard shitheel and get over yourself, or we can pick up where we left off. Just ask yourself if you’re willing to live with the consequences if you’re wrong.”

That did it. Gregor laughed and shook his head in disbelief, his anger bubbling over into cruelty. “That’s what finally got you all riled up and ready to go for another round? [i]Raelynn?[/i] You fancy her or something? Face it, Zaveed. She saved your life because it was the most powerful way to distance herself from you and everything that you are that she could think of. She has nothing but loathing for you in her heart. You can insult me and my methods all you want, but at the end of the day I’ll be walking back to her side and you’ll be here, alone. You don’t know me at all,” he spat and jabbed an accusatory finger in Zaveed’s direction. “I do what I do to save my fucking [i]family[/i] from a fate worse than just death! Meanwhile, even the man you call [i]brother[/i] thinks you had it coming. You have no godsdamned right to judge me.”

Zaveed sighed, the flames in his eyes subduing into embers. “Excuse my anger; it is unbecoming. You are not my enemy; I should stop treating you as such. Normally, I would treat bygones as bygones, but… I can’t say I appreciated the sensation and knowledge I was going to be trapped in a gemstone and consumed like some raw meat. It’s new to me, and I hope to never endure that again.” Zaveed replied, looking over to where Sevari and Aries were having their chat. 

“I don’t think you understand, though; Raelynn’s choices are her own, I was but one of them. You are another. Why would I begrudge that?” he asked quizzically, raising a brow. “I do not intend to win her over with words or charm, but rather demonstrate that her choice was actually a worthy one.” he crooked his head at Gregor. “Why, do you think I am infatuated with her?” he grinned, although not cruelly. “I assure you, I have no interest in robbing that from you. She seems rather… transfixed to you, regardless. If it gives you a shred of humanity, then I’m all for it.” 

Zaveed sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “But yes, Sevari would think that. We’ve had a difficult time catching up the past three decades of time apart, and we are trying to figure out how to fit two non matching puzzles together and wonder what image it creates. I do not apologize for who or what I am, Gregor; I hold no animosity towards you, just your bloody temperament.” 

The fact that Zaveed backed down from their argument was unexpected and disarming. Gregor’s anger still simmered beneath the surface, but there hardly seemed a purpose to it now. “She does,” he said at length, sounding more sincere than he had done at any point in their conversation before. Gregor took a deep breath and exhaled slowly through his nose while he rubbed his eyes, and he visibly appeared to deflate. Anger and hatred were exhausting and he’d carried so much of it with him. Now that he had been confronted with its source and they had traded their insults, it was spent, and he realized that it left only questions in its wake: things he had wanted to know about Zaveed the whole time but had been too enraged to think about. 

Gregor opened his eyes, stared at Zaveed and something, some overwhelming urge, made him open his mouth and continue speaking. “I find it hard to forgive you. It’s… not in my nature. I woke up every day for a week wishing that you had simply died. Every time I saw what you had wrought…” He looked over his shoulder at where Raelynn was sleeping and felt his anger flare up again. It wasn’t spent after all. 

“Forget it,” he muttered and cast one final glance at Zaveed. “We’re not enemies, you’ll keep your mouth shut, everything will be great.” Gregor turned away from Zaveed and began to walk back to where he came from. 

“That’s fair.” Zaveed called after him, his hands resting on his hips where his axes normally were perched. “So don’t. You owe me nothing, and I owe you nothing. Simply coexisting without going through an exhausting argument each and every time we are in each other’s company and staying our blades is enough for me, I think. You’ll learn our predicament is all too common in this world one day.” he said, offering a slight wave as he turned to his own devices, still feeling his own embers catching wind.

Stopping in his tracks, Gregor tilted his head to listen to what Zaveed had to say. He clenched and unclenched his fists and almost turned back around -- [i]enough,[/i] a sharp voice in his head chided, and Gregor kept putting one heavy foot in front of the other.