[h3]Rejoice[/h3] A Dervy Shafting [I]17th of Midyear, Early Evening, Alik’r Desert…[/I] If the Alik’r feared detection by the Dwemer, they certainly didn’t show it. The camp was bright with fires and it was certainly as grand of a festival as one would expect from the New Life festival at just about any major city, or to commemorate the end of the Oblivion Crisis. Here were many different tribes of the Alik’r Desert joined together to celebrate victory, life itself, prosperity… just because. Daro’Vasora had some time over the festival been given a poncho, a pretty sky-blue thing with silver seams with some kind of lizard motif. She wasn’t really sure how it came onto her person; she recalled leaving the cave with Raelynn and Fjolte behind, and her head had still been swimming with images and sounds from whatever the Nord had been burning. She must have been shaking, because a voice that she wasn’t sure was real or not told her so, and before she knew it, she was covered in the poncho and her benefactor nowhere in sight. They must have assumed because it got cold at night that she was, as well. Now the drugs were wearing off and she had regained full sensation of her limbs and senses, save for a minor tingling down her neck and spine, Daro’Vasora’s spirits had lifted considerably and she wandered aimlessly, taking in the sights and sounds of a culture that was far from her own. The Alik’r were people of a desert, not unlike the Khajiit of Anequina, but the way they carried themselves had a number of differences she found curious. She found herself enraptured by a fire breather and a sword juggler, their silky smooth movements reminiscent of the dancers not so far from where they were; she gasped and applauded when the crowd did, and she found laugher came easily to her lips. It wasn’t long before the scent of roasted meat caught her nose, and before long she had a handful of boar kebabs with onions, dates, and tomatoes in her hand and some kind of frosted fruit ale that had been served from a bed of frost salts. She enjoyed her meal as she went along, looking at the impromptu marketplace, admiring the craftsmanship of jewelry and blades, and a few of the former prisoners who recognized her approached and warmly greeted her properly, thanking her for what her and her friends had done. Daro’Vasora realized she couldn’t remember the last time she’d really been this at ease and happy, save for the brief spell of the oasis. Here it was easy to forget the invasion, the war, all the troubles at home. She wasn’t hiding in a cave with tensions riding over, nor in a posh hotel that could be raided at any time. Maybe it was Fjolte’s drugs… who cared? There was a lightness to the air, and the Khajiit almost felt like dancing. Perhaps that was why she was gravitating towards the sound of music and the almost imperceptible thunder of people’s feet moving to the beat of a drum. It was there that she caught sight of someone she very much always loved to see. With quiet feet, she snuck up behind Latro and wrapped an arm around his waist containing the kebabs, pressing her head against his neck affectionately. “Why hello there, stranger; come here often?” she purred flirtatiously before letting off a girlish giggle, offering the kebabs. “Hungry?” she asked. Latro jumped a bit, he’d been staring at the small Dwemer box, but when he realized who it was his face broke out in a beaming smile. He looked at the offered kebabs and took one, a slight bow of the head and a wink to his lover, “Oh, this is my first time, actually.” He took a bite of the kebab, “You know, the woman I love wouldn’t appreciate me taking advances from such a beautiful stranger.” That earned a bemused smirk. “Is that so? Maybe she should learn how to share.” Daro'Vasora said, curling her tail somewhat. “What does she have that I don't?” she pressed teasingly, her eye catching the box. That was curious. “That thing's really caught your eye, hm?” she asked, having a quick drink before offering to swap it for the cube. “It's not like you to be fixated by an artifact. Figured out what it is?” “No,” he shook his head, turning the box over in his hands while still looking at it. He remembered how the different colors tinged his emotions before he pulled his eyes from the box and looked at Sora, “No. I remember they were glowing different colors and they made me feel different emotions based on the color.” “Anyways,” he put it away in a satchel he’d gotten, “That’s a nice poncho.” The fact he didn't offer for her to take a look at the cube made her feel like he was hiding something from her, prompting a dejected frown. “Well, maybe we can solve it together. It's not my first strange Dwemer artifact I've mucked about with, won't be the last.” she said with an inflated sense of confidence before huffing a sigh, pulling the fabric of the poncho in front of her. “I don't remember how I got this. Turns out helping a friend out Fjolte's way is a bit of an assault on the senses.” she said somewhat evasively. “You know him, do you?” Latro asked, his smirk and his tone not exactly matching, a certain suspicion ringing an otherwise innocent sound. “Should I be jealous at this most joyous reunion?” An impish smirk crossed her lips. “Oh, but you have a girlfriend, remember?” she teased, concealing her face behind the cup of ale for a lingering, taunting moment. When she saw that he wasn’t amused, she held the drink to his lips. “I’m going to be honest with you, I always am. Do you trust me?” she asked. “Oh, I do, Bluebird.” He said, using a finger to tip the cup a bit so he could take a sip, licking his bottom lip as it came away seductively, “I could show you just how much you mean to me. That cave was too cramped and quiet but I hardly think anyone would hear us here.” Daro’Vasora reached up to caress Latro’s cheek and pinch his chin. “Now where’s the fun in that? I like to make you sing, after all…” she trailed off, shaking her head for a moment as she gazed up into his eyes. “So back in the old days of when I mostly solo delved and went through temporary partnerships frequently, Fjolte and I had gone on an expedition in partnership with a third party, who promptly betrayed us when they thought they could get away with it. You can probably guess how that went for them.” she looked over to where she had come from earlier, where Fjolte probably was. “Anyways, he cannot tolerate a few moments without hearing himself speak, and between coming down from a life and death struggle, wanting to get him to shut up for a few minutes, and well, my own… urges.” she let the last word linger with its full implication. “We ended up sleeping together, and well, he’s the last person I expected to be pulling out of a cell in Hammerfell.” The Khajiit pinched the bridge of her nose and shook her head slowly. “I feel like he’s going to find some way to rub it in my face, or bring it up at a bad time to rile you or me up because he seems like he feeds off of causing a scene. Trust me, he’s the last person I expected to come back into my life, and I don’t want you hearing rumours about him or me, especially from him. I want you to trust me, and know that my heart belongs to you. If my face could turn red, I’d look like a Nord with a sunburn right now.” “Oh, now that I didn’t need to know.” Latro rubbed at his face. He looked to where her eyes went and shook his head, of all people they could’ve dragged out with them it was Fjolte. “I can’t promise anything if he opens his mouth and shit pours out. I might just close it.” He sighed, growling and unable to look at his partner. He could feel the heat in his cheeks, “Well, I hope your [i]certain urges[/i] are satisfied with little Reachfolk me.” He huffed, “I hope we don’t meet anybody I’ve fucked before.” She leaned up to kiss him, pressing her lips gently against his own before whispering in his ear. “I just might like that.” “Goodness,” Latro ran a hand down Sora’s back, tips of his fingers gliding along her spine to rest at the base of her tail, “How did an innocent man like me find you?” Daro'Vasora giggled, flexing at Latro's touch. “What can I say? I've a weakness for pretty boys who can sing.” she said, pulling Latro into an embrace and burying her face against him. “So, do you know how to dance, or do I need to go find an eligible guy or girl and see where the night takes me?” she asked, gently rocking to the beat. “I couldn’t guarantee their safety.” He smirked before Sora was leaned over backwards on one foot, weight held by one of Latro’s arms at her lower back before he took the lead again, her hand in his as she spun away from him and came back to coil up in his arms. His face was dangerously close to hers, “I know a thing or two. Fighting and pithy philosophy weren’t the only things Francis taught me.” The remaining food was dropped to the ground by an outstretched hand before she grinned with half-shut eyes. She held her leg high against his pelvis and put a hand against his bare chest. “Is that jealousy I hear?” she purred impishly, playfully scratching his chest lightly as she twirled out from his arm, still holding his hand as she moved outward in a graceful twirl, her footfalls light and practiced as she reached the apex of her movement, leaning in to kiss his knuckles. “Then show me how you'll keep your cat from straying, my little Reachman.” she demanded in a sultry tone, playing on his words from earlier. Latro chuckled, placing a hand that was firm but not forceful on the back of her neck. Their lips pressed together in a passionate kiss but just as Sora leaned in and just as he was beginning to feel the urge to let her, Latro pulled away and continued the dance with a flourish. He twirled around Sora, disappearing behind her back for but a second before reappearing and pulling her into an embrace. It was a nice game, he wouldn’t spoil it all at once by giving into his urges too early. He’d dangle it in front of her- and himself- until the need was so great it would be almost too unbearable. Then, and only then, would he let her feel all the bliss and pleasure of his deepest gratitude and love. “Where did you learn to dance, Bluebird?” She continued to move to the beat within his embrace, wrapping an arm across her body to touch his arm and then other reaching up to run her fingers through his long hair. “You learn a few things at court, and a few more when you spend years in the cosmopolitan center of Tamriel and take in the night life.” she replied with a smile, pulling away suddenly, her arms and legs moving like the mesmerizing flicker of flames as she stepped back, inviting him to give chase. He wouldn't be the only one playing cat and mouse with desire. With a finger, Daro'Vasora beckoned her lover with an inviting finger as she disappeared into the throng of dancers, glimpses of her showing between the gyrating bodies. Latro gave his easy smile, following soon after. He’d long ago learned how to move through crowds but Sora was making a task of it. At least he had a good view of her swaying hips and behind as she moved through the people. As they breached through the mass of bodies, he grabbed Sora gently by the arm and pulled her into an embrace, kissing her deeply. “What now?” “Now,” Daro'Vasora replied breathlessly after parting lips, “we lose ourselves to the night.” [hr] It was hard to say when the dancing gave way to lust, and when passion guided them back to their tent to act on the tension, but Daro'Vasora and Latro had spent most of their night with barely a word spoken to each other and yet in perfect understanding. They’d both endured much, and tonight was about healing and remembering how to live for the moment and for each other. This was the first time in so long that they had together that wasn’t in hiding, as prisoners, or fearing for their lives. It felt like it was what life could be, a promise that things weren’t always going to be dominated by war and strife. They would still be able to find a life together that went beyond one forged by circumstances and conflict that would evaporate when the danger had passed. Sometime after collapsing in exhaustion in each other’s arms after their love making, an intense romp that left both bruised, battered, scratched and sore in places that they both forgot were parts of their anatomy, they listened as the sounds of the camp died down and somehow managed to find some articles of clothing to maintain their modesty and headed out to the edge of the camp to look at the stars above, wrapped together in a blanket as they stared up in awe at the impossibly endless and bright sky, the stars like a thousand different candles. After an indeterminate amount of time in blissful silence, still in one another’s embrace, Daro’Vasora finally spoke. “Have you thought about what comes after, for both of us?” she asked, exploring the back of his hand with a thumb. “I don’t want to wake up and find out none of this was real, that it won’t last forever.” Latro took his moment, glancing sidelong at his love before he put his eyes back on the stars. He stayed quiet for some time until he worked at words he wanted to say, “I… Neither of us do.” He said, he looked at Sora and gave her a smile, “But I know I want to stay with you after this is over. I don’t have flings, Sora. I love fully.” He looked back to the stars, “I’ve lived my life as if I didn’t have time for anything but a one, true love.” He sighed, “Now, I’d rip our fates from the Gods’ hands if it was not one where you and I were together.” A part of Daro’Vasora felt guilty about what he had said; much of her life was defined by casual, meaningless flings. She worried that if she admitted that, or the strange but wonderful intimacy she shared with Raelynn recently, would wound him. Would he think her unfaithful, someone who would abandon him when he began to bore her? It made a pit sink into her core, and she wished she knew the answer. “You’re so sure of yourself. I appreciate that.” she said quietly, pressing herself closer against him, her eyes no longer skyward. “I just don’t know if I deserve that devotion, this is all new to me and I never want it to end, but what happens if I mess up? I’ve never been in a relationship for long, Roux was the longest by over a month and well, he betrayed me. I spent so much of my life after not forming strong attachments to people, I don’t know if I will ever be able to match this vision you have for me.” she said with a heavy sigh, squeezing Latro’s hand. “I love you, more than anything, and I know me telling you about Fjolte irritated or upset you. I’m sorry for that; I just never want to lie to you.” Latro’s gaze didn’t falter from the moon as he listened to Sora. He didn’t even find the words for her until a long silence had started to nudge him towards speaking anything. He was zealous, just not good at these things. “Oh.” He said, then found it to be a supremely lame excuse for an answer, he looked at Sora in his arms, “Sora, there’s thousands of people who will condemn our love just because we look different. Just because we can’t have children. I don’t care. I love you, all I need is for you to love me, never lie to me, always be honest whether or not I’ll be upset.” He gave her his easy smile, “I just need you to trust yourself that this is real. I trust in you that you will not leave me and I hope you trust me that I won’t do that to you. That’s what it’s about, isn’t it? Trust?” He chuckled, “And if we keep the reasons we started loving each other in the first place close to our hearts, then any fight we have can be weathered. It is good to be brave, no?” A chuckle escaped Daro’Vasora’s chest. “Now where have I heard that before?” she asked with a smile. She looked up to meet his stare, drinking in the richness of his eyes. “I know this is real, I know it in my heart of hearts. I love you, Latro of the Reach, with everything that I am; I promise to always be honest with you, to never give up on you when times get tough, when life seems impossible. I know my parents would like you.” she promised, holding him tighter. “I just hope you can forgive me when I stumble, when I don’t know what I’m doing. My heart is true, I’m just a mess.” Latro chuckled quietly, grasping up a fistful of sand and letting it trickle down to the ground, “That makes two of us, love.” He breathed in, taking in the warmth of Sora’s body against his, “I don’t know what the future will hold for us, but I know I’ll be right beside you when we find out. To think, I never thought we’d be on such an adventure.” “So, now that we know we’re not going anywhere… what is it you want out of life?” Daro’Vasora asked. “No kids, just us. Let’s assume these cave-dwelling assholes get stopped and life goes back to normal, or close to it. What do you want to do, where do you want to live? That kind of thing.” “Normal.” He said, shrugging and frowning, “Be normal. Go back to what I was. Just a traveling bard whose biggest worry is… is finding an inn before nightfall, or… what my next song is going to be when I get there.” “I don’t want to fight wars anymore. I don’t want to be a hero with the gates of hundreds or thousands depending on me.” He shook his head, kissing Sora’s forehead and leaning against her, “I just want us.” The Khajiit reached up to caress his cheek. “Well, I don’t think there’s going back to that just yet. Besides, think of all the inspirations for songs we’re living right now. I don’t think I can ever give up what I was doing before, doing expeditions and digging up history. It’s the thrill of the hunt and discovery, finding these things you’ve only read about in books that are older than your great-grandparents. It’s like finding out a fantasy or myth you enjoyed as a child was real, and you were the one to bring it to life.” Daro’Vasora said dreamily, looking back up at Jone and Jode and wondering if her ancestors were looking back at that moment. “I don’t see why we couldn’t do both, don’t you? We can travel Tamriel, and who knows? Maybe if we pull this off we’ll be able to open doors to places we’ve always dreamed about. I always wanted to see Summerset.” “Fine,” he nodded, “Just… No heroics. Travel sounds nice, though. I haven’t been outside Northwestern Tamriel, I wonder what Elsweyr is like. Ever been?” Daro’Vasora shook her head. “No, which seems odd, considering the border was only a few kilometers away from Leyawiin. With all of the tension with the Dominion, the fact that a lot of ruins get buried by the desert, and, well… a sort of rejection of what I am, I just never came to pass. I spent most of my time in the Cyrodiilic wilds, Skyrim and Morrowind from time to time. Maybe it’s time for me to fix that?” she pondered. “Perhaps,” He shrugged, “Sevari once told me it’s filled with nothing but shit. He’s a very angry man. And to think, most other Khajiit want nothing else but to go back.” “I always took the saying, [i]may your roads lead you to warm sands[/i] as a way of expressing finding your way back home. Most Khajiit I've met from the Confederacy seemed wistful and nostalgic for their homelands. Many, I think, are exiled.” Daro'Vasora explained. “Maybe Sevari's angry because he doesn't have a home or a place where he feels like he belongs?” “He seems like a man who’s been without hearth and home for some time.” Latro frowned, “I can relate some. Before I found Francis, I don’t know what I was doing. Sure, I could play a lute but my life was just one day to the next. I never planned out more than a day in advance.” “Life is blurry when your only interest is poppy-wine and where to be the most alone to enjoy it.” He said, his voice solemn, “I’m only lucky Francis found me. Put me on the right path to find you some years later.” That brought a smile to Daro'Vasora's lips. “Right? Now you don't have to drink the entire bottle on your own.” she chuckled, leaning fully into him now. “You give Francis all the credit for your own accomplishments, you know that? I know he helped refine a lost soul, but you would have figured yourself out eventually. Besides, as if I wouldn't have heard your music in some forlorn tavern and subsequently try to get enough drinks into that handsome singer so he'd sleep with me.” Her fingers intertwined with Latro's, amazed that despite all of the differences like smooth skin of his fingers in contrast to her dark fur and long, sharp claws. He placed her other hand over the back of his own, her eyes meeting his own. “I feel like nothing would have ever kept me from finding you, not in a thousand lifetimes... I am more sure about you than anything in my life. I am honoured that you chose me, that despite everything, despite who and what I am, I am yours and you are mine.” Daro'Vasora said with gentle reverence, bringing his hand up to kiss his knuckles. “I will always find your song.” she promised. Latro sighed through a heavy smile. Not in so long had he heard words that were so good and meant only for him. That the look in Sora’s eyes were so sincere, he was almost having to wipe at his own pair. “Maybe I should give myself more credit.” He chuckled, nuzzling a cheek on Sora’s mane, “And I don’t think you’d have had to put so many drinks into me in the first place. Your words, your face, your body, your mind. I would have grown smitten by the end of our first conversation.” “Well, by now, I’m sure I’ve told you enough about my tribe, my status as the Chieftain’s and Witch-Mother’s son, next in succession and all that. What of you?” He asked, “You said you’ve been at court. You must be important, Lady Sora.” The Khajiit giggled playfully, running her hand across his chest. “Oh? Some might think you have a fetish, my love. How did I miss your sly looks at camp in the mountains?” she purred, a seductive smile on her lips before she let out a bark of a laugh. “By everything in Aetherius, no, I was never important. My mother is Count Caro's scribe, my father owns a major merchant company on Topal Bay.” Daro'Vasora explained. “I was invited to fancy dinners, even know which way to line up my forks and spoons, dress up all proper like, dance and curtsey and all of that other bullshit pageantry that comes with being in the presence of nobility. My family's just served Leyawiin since the Empire rolled in and murdered one of my ancestors, as he is so keen to remind me every time I see him.” The Khajiit rolled her eyes. “He most certainly would have hated to see me get defiled by one of those filthy invasive humans with your strange flat faces, and how do you trust one with no tail? How am I supposed to tell you all apart when you have no fur patterns?” he said in teasing exasperation. “However would I know?” Latro shrugged and put his hands up, “I have a hard enough time telling Meg from Gregor. At least the Gods made it easy with the fur and tails and muzzles.” He laughed. “Shame about Sevari’s ilk though, forever cursed to walk the lands looking more man than Khajiit and not being able to recognize their reflection from the person next to them.” He sighed and shook his head, “The prejudices of men and mer, even betmer. It’s boggling to the mind, but I guess difference is terrifying.” Daro’Vasora was quiet for a moment before gently, almost imperceptibly, nodding her head in agreement. “I never wanted to give him much validation, but I always felt that the Ohmes and Ohmes-Raht must feel so estranged from the rest of our kin, to look and walk like Men and Mer and miss much of what make Khajiit ourselves. For many, it must really emphasize that they belong nowhere, to be rejected for not being Khajiit enough, not Bosmer enough, not Man enough. Even for the Tojay, most find their ways down to the Tenmar forests to live in the trees because they are of such different forms than the rest of us.” the Khajiit sighed, staring up at Jone. “The Moons give us everything, but they must feel like such a burden to others. I’ve never felt comfortable in my own skin, to walk the world of Man while being a cat, always gazed at with suspicion and distrust. It’s part of why I was so difficult in the beginning with the group, you know? I’ve spent so long expecting to be hurt or disregarded by strangers, no sense in playing nice and might as well share the discomfort.” Daro’Vasora said, a hint of remorse tinting her tone. “It’s why I never expected you to like me back… I rather thought you would have gone the other way in the Imperial City when I sought you out.” she admitted shyly. Latro sighed, “Sora,” he chuckled almost incredulously, as if she was expected to know how obvious it was that he’d at least become her friend, “Sora, you were all I had down there. If I hadn’t found you or you found me, more like, I think I’d be dead. You saved me, and I didn’t think you would.” “I was shivering, getting frostbit. Hypothermia was on my heels. You stayed with me, when I was terrified of dying.” Latro squeezed Sora in his arms, nuzzling his cheek against hers. “You were and still are my light in that darkness. You always will be.” “Plus, if you don’t remember, I was a right smug bastard then too.” He chuckled, letting go of Sora save her hands in his own and kept in his lap, “Always talking down Gaius and that one Altmer. Mortalmo.” He bowed his head with closed eyes, voice heavy as it should be, “Gods rest his soul. May he find peace with them he couldn’t find with us.” Daro’Vasora shook her head. “Is it bad I don’t feel much towards him? I mean, no one deserves to die an early death, but after everything we’ve seen and endured… well, it’s hard to make room for people you aren’t close with. It’s hard to think of everyone I’ve seen die in Imperial City and Anvil as people, just the scale of it…” her voice trailed off. “I just kept trying to find you, find Judena and get the fuck out of danger. And here we are marching back into it.” She hesitated for a moment, shivering despite herself. “We’re going to be crossing the mountains to the East and heading into the Reach, into Skyrim. We’re going by your home.” she said, letting her words sink in. “If that makes you uneasy, we can find another way. I just don’t know what’s waiting for us there, for you.” That made his face harden some. The prospect of going back there after his exile, he didn’t know if they’d be friendly with him. And if they didn’t much care to see his face around those parts, what they would do to the people with him. His peoples were perhaps not the Mad Witchmen of High Rock like the old times, but it was still a bad prospect of an axe to the head as it was a sacrificial dagger to the throat. He shook his head, “I’m going to have to be comfortable with it. Or at least shoulder it and keep my teeth together.” He looked to Sora, frowning, “I’m not going to postpone our march just because some bad feelings.” “Besides, I don’t know who is in charge anymore. Maybe they won’t even know who I am and we can pay or trade with them for passage.” He shrugged, “There’re more Tribes than just mine in those hills. I don’t mind taking those high passes if you don’t. If anything, it’d make it easier on us, I might still know a little of that high country to get us through quicker.” “If you’re sure,” the Khajiit cautioned, looking to meet his gaze. “It’s the most direct way with the best odds of surviving off the land without supplies, so on a map it’s very inviting. I just am never going to ask you to put yourself at risk because of bad blood.” she sighed, shaking her head. “We all need to get through intact, all of us, and I can’t lose you, especially if I know it was preventable. I’m honestly pretty scared.” she admitted. “Latro… when I picked up that Lexicon, I knew everything changed.” Daro’Vasora said. “It was a way to end all of this, and before that moment I was resigned feeling like that we were just fighting against the inevitable and now everything is very real. This plan I have, the danger, all of it. I know it will work, I believe that in my heart, but what if we get there and it’s impossible? Is it better to pass on the torch or just let the world unfold as it will, or is it better to try and do the impossible and lose everyone I care about for nothing?” tears flowed freely now and she sucked in air between her teeth. “If you were in my position, with everyone looking up to you and making these kinds of choices, what would you do? Am I doing the right thing, or am I being irresponsible and gambling with lives?” Latro sighed and chewed his lip. He understood, truly, mostly because he didn’t know a lick of how to lead these people, neither. He shook his head, “We all, each one of us, know what we banded together for. Everybody.” He said, “And if they don’t, I’d remind them just what we’ve been doing the past months and let them take their leave if they were ignorant to the fact that we’re not running from this war,” He looked into Sora’s eyes with a hardness that used to be unfamiliar to him, “We’re the ones fighting it the hardest.” He softened some, stroking her arm and squeezing her wrist reassuringly, “The ones fighting it on our lonesome, almost. Everybody who’s stuck with us this far has been gambling the entire time, and they know it. I know it. You think I didn’t know it was a gamble with some mad fucking odds to prostrate myself in front of Zaveed just to make sure I could be with you and force Sevari into acting?” “You don’t think it was a damned mad gamble to assault the Palace with not even twenty people? Or that Prison back there?” He thrust his thumb over his shoulder as he said it. He nodded, giving a smile to Sora and folding her up in his embrace, “Me, everyone, we’ve done the impossible twice already because of you. Because of each other. We’ll do it however many times we need to until this is done.” Daro'Vasora pulled herself into Latro, wrapping her arms around him and burying her face into his chest. “Thank you. I needed to hear that, I really did.” she said, holding him close for a few moments longer, taking in his comforting scent before falling back onto her knees. “As many times as it takes.” she promised, suddenly laughing nervously. “By Alkosh, I've been a mess the past few weeks, haven't I? You'd think by now life and death stakes would be a tad routine.” the Khajiit smiled, wiping her eyes with the back of her arm. She took a few moments of meditative breathing to relax herself, and she opened her eyes with a loving smile. “For what it's worth, it was pretty much a turn on to see you do something stupidly heroic for me. I guess we're all in this together, huh? It almost seems like a rite of passage to risk life and limb to save each other.” Daro'Vasora observed, thinking back. “I don't think I ever thanked Meg for what she did for me when I was captive, and Jaraleet. I should probably talk to both of them soon.” Latro laughed at that, shrugging and nodding, “Yeah, well, I’m glad I have that effect on somebody. I’m glad it’s you.” He chuckled, scratching at his stubbled jaw. “Maybe you should talk to them. Better late than never, they’ll appreciate it.” “Tomorrow, I’ll make some time. Tonight, it’s about us.” She said as she ran her fingers across her chin, grinning. “You know, you might look good with a beard.” He smiled, giving a small chuckle at that, “You think? Always made it harder to hide. No one can tell it’s me with just a little makeup and a change of clothes, I can disappear. I used to like that fact. Nobody knowing if it was me or not.” He looked to the sand, scrunching his bare toes deeper into it, nodding, “But I don’t think I’m going to hide anymore. No more disappearing, running. I’m right here,” he smiled, “Nothing can change that.” Daro’Vasora smiled, kissing him lightly. “You don’t need to any more, we’re no longer facing the world alone; this is so much more than surviving one more day. We’re fighting to live, to make sure that we have a tomorrow we can be proud of. Besides… do you know how much of a shock it was seeing you in dress and make-up?” she asked with a grin. “You know that’s a skill you have that I never had to learn, right?” “Be glad.” He said, “It was one part necessity, one part desperation and sorrow. Rough men like pretty boys. I’m tired of being invisible. I am Latro, I am Finnen Pale-Feather, all of these things. When we go to the Reach, it won’t be gentle for me or any of us.” “But when has it been recently? We, all of us, we still have each other. That’s all that matters.” He nodded. “Finnen the returned son. Chief Finnen Pale-Feather of the Crow-Wife Clan. Has a ring to it. If they won’t accept me, I will change them.” “That was insensitive of me… I’m sorry.” She said, holding him close. “Wherever our road takes us, I will stand by you, no matter how hard it gets. And Latro?” she leaned closer to his ear. “You were never invisible to me.” He turned to her, gave her his easy smile, and they kissed as a breeze brought chills and the sound of cricket-song.