[center][h3]An Impasse[/h3]
[i]by Hank and Greenie[/i][/center]
[hr]
[i]15th of Midyear, Dawn, the Oasis[/i]

Despite the chaos of travel and sleeping relatively later than most, Sirine was up at the crack of dawn as per her habit. She’d had a peaceful sleep, surprising given where the motley group found itself, but she was grateful for it nonetheless. Sitting up in her bedroll, she rubbed the sleep away from her eyes before languidly stretching out. Grasping at the air with clenched fist, she relished the tension in her muscles, a small sigh escaping her. Feeling much lighter as she relaxed and got to her feet, she reached up to pat her hair, now a very good length shorter than it used to be, barely dancing against the nape of her neck. Short and messy, it would take some getting used to, but even she had to admit it gave her a sense of freedom. 

Glancing to the side, her eyes fell upon where Zaveed had been sleeping, though the spot was now empty. A warm look came to her as she thought of his help the previous night, though it was interrupted by a reminder that she had just awoken. Stifling a yawn with her arm, the Imperial Redguard decided to make her way to the river once more, a hint of a smile crossing her face as she realized as long as they stayed here, it would become a habit. The sound of the running water was even more soothing than she’d realized the day before, and the coolness it loaned to the air was gods’ sent. [i]Bakih would enjoy it here.[/i]. That thought had her tranquil expression wavering. She wasn’t here as a vacationer in the desert, she wasn’t even on the run. She had a purpose. Freeing Bakih came first and foremost, and she would not allow anyone to ruin that for her. 

Letting out a sigh, she knelt down by the waterside, splashing some on her face before taking a couple of handfuls to drink.

Gregor's footsteps preceded him and he sank down on his knees a respectful distance away from Sirine. He avoided eye contact with the woman, who he had swiftly judged for the company she kept, and started his own morning routine in silence. His hair needed a proper bath but in lieu of that, throwing a few handfuls of water over it had to suffice. Having woken up to find Raelynn already gone, the spot where she'd slept still warm to the touch, Gregor had wanted to beat the others to the water and wash himself in peace. It looked like Sirine had had the same idea. 

As soon as she had heard the footsteps, the tension the night's sleep had lulled away returned to Sirine in earnest. Casting a glance to the side, she realized she was right to feel on alert. She recognized this man from the day before, Gregor if she recalled correctly. An Imperial like her, though obviously lacking the Redguard blood that ran through her veins. Now that he was close enough for her to see him clearly, she could see how his countenance, his tattoos, and his general being may intimidate weaker hearts. She could also see how this man could have killed Zaveed. Her hand itched to near her dagger, but she'd always had practice at restraining herself, and the most she did was dry her wet hands on her thighs. 

"Good morning," she called, her voice rather pleasant despite her thoughts.

In the midst of washing his hair, Gregor stopped and looked up at Sirine. Her hair looked like it had just been cut and there was something about her features that suggested she had either lived in this climate her whole life, or had foreign blood mixed in her Imperial lineage. “To you as well. I don't believe we've met,” he responded, his tone neutral but not unkind. “I'm Gregor.” 

"I'm a new addition, though I prefer to think that your group was actually the addition to mine." She shifted her weight slightly so that she was facing the man, observing the way he spoke. It seemed he was as guarded as she was, which was quite fair given the circumstances. "Sirine. I've heard your name in passing. The khajiit woman, the one called Daro'Vasora, had mentioned it when she and Latro came by our caravan."

“Ah.” Gregor wasn't sure what to say to that. It made sense that somebody had told Zaveed in advance that he was there, he supposed. “You're the woman with the missing brother, I take it?” he asked. 

"Yes," Sirine agreed, not at all surprised that she would be known as that person. "Bakih, my younger brother. He's been taken prisoner since the dwemer arrived in Hammerfell. Since you were all headed this way as well, I'm assuming your group has people imprisoned there too?" She was itching to ask so much more, truth be told. [i]You are the one, aren't you?[/i] "Or perhaps simply escaping the dwemer?"

“There's a chance one of us is in that prison, but we're after something more important. Daro'Vasora is our leader and has learned something that could put an end to the Dwemer invasion,” Gregor explained. The fact that Sirine's brother was indeed in the clutches of the Deep Elves softened his disposition somewhat. “The key we need to do so could be in the prison. Either way, we need to keep heading north. We're not exactly on good terms with Rourken's administration.” 

That was news to Sirine, though it wasn't top priority to her. These people were simply a means to free her brother. No dwemer meant freedom, but she was still of the mind that as long as she had the sea beneath her feet, she would be free. To that end, she had trust that Zaveed would show her the way, dwemer remaining or not.

"I see," she replied, feigning interest momentarily before allowing her placid expression to shift to a more neutral one. "I guess that would be why Zaveed called your group terrorists. I heard of a few incidents... the murdered Nblec, the prison break- Was that you all?"

Gregor scoffed. “Terrorists. That's rich. Freedom fighters, yes, an armed resistance. That was us. Nblec was an accident. Don't let the others catch you calling it a murder. Sensitive topic.” He was still irritable from the previous day and his expression hardened somewhat. “So you're… what, friends, with Zaveed?” 

"I say what I hear," Sirine replied, a short humourless laugh escaping her. "The whole of Gilane is looking at it as murder. Nevermind that." She could see the shift in his expression quite clearly. "I suppose you could say we are friends, yes. Partners would be another term. I found him barely surviving on the docks one morning." Her head tilted as she looked the man, a false curiosity showing on her face. "You're the one who did that, aren't you? Who nearly killed him?"

An incredulous silence stretched between them as Gregor processed what he heard. He wasn’t sure in what way she meant ‘partner’. He furrowed his brow and sighed as Sirine brought up what had happened. “Yes,” he said at length. Gregor wondered how much she knew -- about the details of the fight, specifically his use of necromancy, but also about the reason they clashed so violently in the first place. “Do you also know why I did that?”

"I'm fairly certain whether I do know or don't doesn't make a difference. I just wished to know the identity of the person who tried to kill and soul trap Zaveed." Her eyes narrowed momentarily as once more the thought of him being dead assaulted her. However she was quick to relax, crossing her arms loosely over her chest, medallion glinting in the early morning light. "That being said, I'm willing to listen if you're willing to tell. I am stranger amongst you all; clearly there is much I don't know."

“That is a very dangerous assumption,” Gregor said, his tone cautionary. It was hard to read Sirine but she did not strike him as an overly duplicitous person. If she truly did not know… then she had essentially been conned into liking Zaveed. “Zaveed is a coward that abducts and tortures defenseless young women for sport. I assume you’ve seen the blonde Breton that rode with me. Her name is Raelynn and she is our healer, and my lover. Out of everyone that was involved with the botched kidnapping attempt, she was the [i]least[/i] likely to be guilty of anything and the least capable of defending herself.” 

He scoffed again and rested his clenched fists on his knees. “Didn’t seem to matter to him at all. He snatched her off the streets and nailed her hand to a table. After she escaped, he came after her [i]again[/i], murdered an associate of ours in front of her and left her with his corpse for hours. All in the name of the Dwemer,” Gregor said darkly, his eyes boring into Sirine’s. “He was to her what the Deep Elves were to your Bakih. You can understand that I couldn’t let that slide. Killing him would merely have been eliminating a threat, a pest. Sending his soul beyond so that he could never return to stalk this plane was a more… appropriate punishment. It is only through the intervention of a third party that he’s still here.” 

Gregor took a deep breath and continued more softly. “You cannot trust him. Did he give you that crap about wanting to make something out of his second chance at life?” He laughed mirthlessly. “Don’t believe it for a second. He’s rotten.”

"The way you speak, the way that Latro and Daro'Vasora spoke, it's as if you haven't tasted much of the world and the darkness spread within." Sirine's eyes were narrowed, but it didn't seem as if she was deeply moved by what Gregor had revealed to her. "But I know it can't be that. The reason you're riled is because something happened to someone you loved, someone who mattered to you. Yes, you are right, it is like Bakih and the Dwemer. But I fail to see how that would change my views on Zaveed. Each one of us is an enemy and monster to another person. You simply know what you've seen of him, a murderer, a torturer. And in the same stroke I know what I've heard of your group, terrorists, murderers. Who is right and who is wrong? How is Zaveed nailing your lover’s hand to a table any different than Nblec being tortured and murdered?"

Despite her composure, there was now a darkness in Sirine's eyes. Her hand grasped the medallion around her neck. "We're all rotten, Gregor. Each one of us has something within us that makes us no less shittier than the next person. Trust isn't something I throw around blindly, and believe me I have absolutely no faith in anyone here other than Zaveed. Call me a fool if you wish, but I know full well what I do. There is absolutely no benefit to him in helping me, yet here he is to do just that." She breathed out as she let go of her medallion. "He doesn't wish for any more strife, but I assure you, I will strike whoever tries to harm him."

He was annoyed by her suggestion that he was supposedly more naive or inexperienced than she was, and disagreed with her notion that everyone was rotten. “I have seen enough darkness for a lifetime,” Gregor said. “Real darkness. Far worse things lurk in the shadows than a two-septim cutthroat like Zaveed. That means I have no patience for cowardice and senseless cruelty when it comes from vermin like him that took his orders from the Deep Elves. Don’t forget that Nblec wasn’t a person. The Dwemer are just another addition to a long list of enemies that need to be exterminated. They have no place in this world. Don’t compare them to the people that it belongs to. [i]That[/i] is naive.” His gaze hardened. “And offensive, like your lack of a moral compass.”

A laugh escaped the former pirate, and it was actually tinged with amusement. "My apologies, did I come across as an upholder of law and order? I plundered ships and ruthlessly murdered my enemies before the dwemer attacked. Unlike you and your friends, I have no doubt in the sort of person I am. I am not a good person, neither is Zaveed. But neither are any of you, no matter what sort of delusions about yourselves you uphold. Whether you wish to believe it or not, the dwemer are people. They breathe, they think, they survive, they live."

Letting out a short breath, she stood up and considered the Imperial necromancer. Where did his false sense of justice and superiority come from? At least Zaveed knew what he was and had no false sense of reality. "Clearly we have come to an impasse. But I will say it is quite nice to know the thoughts of at least one more staying here."

“You don't know any of us,” Gregor retorted. “I may not be a hero but I am far from the best among us. You should talk to Calen. He jumped in front of a bullet to save a life and he was vehemently against torturing Nblec. If you dropped your cynicism for a moment you might be pleasantly surprised. There are innocents in this world, you know.” There was no malice in his voice; rather pity, and he regarded Sirine with a sadness in his eyes. “See you around.” 

"Yes, and those innocents get fucked." There was a hint of bitterness in her voice. "As it seems with your friend Calen." She stepped back, her earlier amusement having faded. "I don't know any of you, it's true, but you don't know me, and I very much doubt you know Zaveed save that which you wish to know."

Sirine gave the man a nod and turned away, more than ready to return to the camp. "Farewell."