[h3]Constellations.[/h3]

Greenie & Stormy

[i]13th Sun’s Height[/i]

[hr]

[indent]From the blistering desert, to the significantly less blistering mountain range of the Reach - it seemed that the journey had been endless. While most had their complaints, there was at least one who felt completely at home. The newcomer Nord, the one that most were still unsure of. He had only just been freed from a prison after all, and then had immediately volunteered to be the caretaker to the recently transformed Lich, Gregor. If he had wanted to make an impression… He had certainly succeeded in that regard.

But this was his home, [i]his temple[/i] - the wilds of the world, the roads less travelled were of great comfort to him. The open sky and open arms of Nirn were inviting and nothing felt more freeing to him than the familiar embrace of complete and utter freedom. So, out of everyone in the party, Fjolte was probably smiling the most.

The Nord was changing too, access to food and real activity had brought his body back from the brink - and his spirit. There was also the matter of his beard though, that was growing back at a rapid pace. He looked more disheveled than he had when they had left the Alik’r. Not only the beard, but his hair too. Maybe it was the world's way of telling him he should grow it out for a change.

They were setting up their camp for the night, and, well - not ever wanting to stick himself in a tent, the Nord had already rolled his bed out for the night and was ready to stick in and help whoever else needed it. When Fjolte caught a glimpse of Meg pottering around, he decided that person could be her. He shrugged and slid himself off the rock he’d been sitting on, and with a relaxed pace he headed over, realising he hadn’t [i]really[/i] said an awful lot to her yet - despite knowing her from some years ago. 

“Scraps!” he said with his usual carefree and toothy grin. “Staying out of trouble this evening I hope?”

"Now tha's somethin' I ain' heard in a very long time." Meg had her arms filled with her bedroll, but she was quick to let it drop on the ground as she turned around to face the Nord man who was nearly a foot taller than her, returning his grin with one of her own. She had definitely noted his presence around the camp, but with the situation as it was and the graveness of Gregor's condition, she hadn't thought it would be a good idea to disturb the monk. Truth be told, she had been in her own contemplative mood for most of the journey, her thoughts and emotions a ball of yarn in her mind that she was trying to sort out. 

That being said, every day meant they were nearing Skyrim, and so every day she found her mood lightening from the previous day, and it was apparent from the way she was actually making an effort to look pleasant and take care of herself. The dark marks around her eyes seemed to have receded, and her hair, though messy for the most part, seemed almost on purpose. 

"Talos, sure is good t'see y'again, though I didn' think you'd've remembered that name!" Chuckling, she reached over and gave the large man a friendly hug. Even such an action made her nostalgic, reminding her of the people she would interact with back home. It was comforting in a way. "Trouble fin's me, not the other way 'round, y'know." She stepped back and looked up, taking in his scruffy look so unlike what she remembered from five years earlier. "Y'sure look differen' from there. So. Wha' 'bout you, eh? Don' tell me ya jus' ended up in the desert on an adventure or sommat."

[i]A hug![/i] Now that was something that made him smile in his heart, so excited he was that someone gave him such a greeting, that he squeezed Meg as his huge arms enveloped her, and lifted her up with the sheer force. It was then that the Nord realised that probably made the poor girl uncomfortable, so he put her down softly, with a glowing grin. 

“Strange how the wind blows old acquaintances back together eh? And yeah, tell me about it troublemaker! How could I forget you?” he said with a laugh as he placed his hands on his hips and sighed. “It’s been a strange trek hasn’t it? Can’t remember travelling with such a large group…” His voice trailed off as his eyes followed around the camp slowly, taking notice of everyone individually and how they appeared to be settling in, or in some cases not quite so much. He sighed in a carefree manner and let his grin return, thinking of how to explain his adventure to Meg…

“Well you see…” he began, his eyes moving from left to right, voice lowering as if this was a great secret. “I was looking for something, something valuable… something [i]dangerous[/i]. Up in the mountains that border our homeland…” He drew closer to Meg, his voice quieter still (for a change), “I had set up camp for the night. Just me and my trusty steed… Joben. I had followed a map to a secret cave there were I was to retrieve the famed sword of the great warrior Diana Prionsa. Such a legendary sword is this one, it is said to be able to slay a God…” He paused, to gauge Meg’s reaction at his tale so far…

Meg's eyes were wide, arms loosely held to her sides as she watched the Nord, laning a little closer as his voice quietened, though she really needn't have; it was as much for effect as well as her truly being engrossed in the story. She knew he told fantastical tales, yet this one sounded something that could very well have been the truth. Besides, it seemed he was as good at weaving stories as he had been when she had first met him. That had been a fun day indeed, now that she thought of it. A fight or ‘scrap’ with a couple of idiots who didn’t know better, and then drinks and banter with a friendly stranger to soothe the burn of the wounds. What else did a Nord girl need, really?

"A legendary sword, eh?" She grinned, her smile bright as she recalled her little misadventure in Gilane. "Soun's like we got somethin' more in common than bein' Nord. I went on some treasure huntin’ back in Gilane, for Raelynn’s Pa. But that’s nothin, you’re the only tellin’ your tale. So?" She prodded his arm and nodded encouragingly. "Then wha' happened? Don' just leave me hangin' here." With no further thought, Meg plopped herself down on top of her bedroll, sitting cross legged with her hand under her chin, green eyes staring at Fjolte expectantly. 

“Aye, legendary indeed. But it wasn’t to be, Scraps. I got myself ambushed by a damned Dwemer patrol. Reckon they were looking for the sword too.” He shook his head slowly, eyes veering off over the distance to the right of him, an annoyed huff escaped his lips. Even his hands balled into angry fists as he plopped himself down onto the ground beside Meg. “Didn’t go down without givin’ them a good fight though, I tell you that much. Must have taken out about eight of them with my bare hands before they took me down. Well, then I ended up in the prison o’course.” After that he simply shrugged. “Gotta say though, everything happens for a reason. Wouldn’t be sittin’ pretty with you tonight if I hadn’t been in the right place at the right time now.”

"Yer righ'," Meg agreed with a smile. If she thought about all the troubles they had to go through to reach this point, then maybe she could think about all the good that had happened during the time as well. "Y'wouldn' be here an' we wouldn' be talkin', an' how sad would tha' be, eh?"

Treasure hunting for Raelynn’s [i]Pa[/i]? That was of interest to him, and so as he relaxed into sitting he looked at the Nord with a curious smirk. “Treasure hunting in Gilane? Well actually I’d say that’s about everything I want to hear about right now…” 

"Aye, aye!" Unable to do anything other that grin at the smirk, Meg's legs immediately began to jiggle about as they normally did when she was excited. "Haha, are ya sure though? I'm bettin' y'got much more interestin' stuff t'talk abou'..." She paused a moment before sitting still, bringing a fist to her mouth and mock coughing, as if clearing her throat. "Fine, I'mma tell ya 'bout tha' then." 

She pursed her lips, sifting through memories that seemed a lifetime ago yet were only a little over a month old, truth be told. “I needed septims, an’ Raelynn’d mentioned her Pa migh’ have some work for someone with my er… talents.” She looked a hint of sheepish but mostly proud. “Dunno if y’remember, but I’m pretty damn good at huntin’ down treasure. Soooo I went t’their place, an’ I’mma tell ya, tha’ place was [i]grand[/i], got me worried if I was t’touch sommat, it’d get dirty.” 

Fjolte watched the Nord with an intensity he rarely showed outside of his work, a seriousness to his eyes that suggested that Meg was the absolute focus of his attention. He remained silent for the most part, occasionally the corners of his mouth would turn to a smile. Her enthusiasm was infectious, and that joy radiated over to him where he sat. 

Scratching at her head for a moment, she continued onward. “So, her Pa had this sword, an’ wanted t’complete the pair, ‘cept the sister sword belonged t’another merchant who was ‘bout t’leave for the desert. So I had’ta sneak into his place… climbed a tree an’ jumped into the garden. There were three wagons there an’ ‘course I checked the wrong ones firs’...” She chuckled, though she didn’t seem embarrassed by her tale- while it lacked the flair with with Fjolte told his stories, Meg was clearly enjoying retelling her adventure to the tall Nord. “When I got t’the righ’ one, the wagons started off. I managed t’pick the lock an’ found the sword. A bow too, sold tha’ though. Had t’use it t’get away from the caravan an’ ran like my ass was on fire ‘til they were outta sight. I got paid good though! Bought sweets an’ clothes an’ drink with the gold.”

He was silent for a moment, and after that moment he laughed from the bottom of his stomach at the story. It was a fantastic one. “Oh Scraps,” he said through chuckles, “you sure showed them. Man…” he sighed almost wearily, “it’s good to have escapades like that, keeps a fire in you. Sounds like the sweets, clothes, and drink were well earned if you ask me.” It had been a long time since Fjolte had bought something like that, he was so used to just making do with what the land provided. The clothes on his back were old, and had been repaired and remade more than once. “Can’t even remember the last time I made a septim, y’know? All I want is all around me, don’t need much else.”

He’d recalled Meg having kept to herself somewhat on the trip, he wondered if something had been bothering her but he dare not ask in case it ruined the happy mood. It wasn’t his place to pry, either, so he held back any thoughts he was having of poking and prodding at the girl. “Good to see you again, y’know? Despite everything you’ve probably gone through you look stronger and more spirited than ever.” He gave a soft chuckle again, and nudged her in the arm with his elbow gently. “Always been a good egg, haven’t ya?”

"Maybe jus' a l'il rotten," Meg jokingly replied, returning the nudge with one of her one. Her grin simmered down to a smile as she thought over what he said. It was a relief if she was being honest with herself. "All tha' travelin' gave me lotsa thinkin' time, y'know? It... it's been an adventure but also a whole lotta hard shit..." She looked a little guilty as she cast a glance at him before her eyes shifted to the dirt between her boots. "I feel kinda bad sayin' tha', ain' like ye've been sittin' in a tavern this whole time." One glance at the man was enough to show that he'd seen more than his share of strife, from his clothes to his hair to his general disheveled state of being. Yet somehow he'd managed to retain a smile on his face and a happy tone for others.

"How'd ya do it?" she asked after a moment of lingering quiet. "Bein' back here, Skyrim, tha's what's gettin' me happy again, but b'fore tha'... it's like if I didn' ignore shit, it'd just make me sad an' upset. But you've been cheery since I saw ya after the prison." She finally looked back at him, still smiling though the questioning look in her eyes was clear.

“I have faith,” he began with a smile and a loose shrug of his shoulders. “Whatever is going to happen is going to happen. I spent far too much of my life being angry, being sad…” He absent mindedly began to pluck at a loose thread on his shorts, rubbing it between his thumb and forefinger as he gazed out across the camp. “It fucks you up, it fucks others up. I mean, it’s okay to feel like that once in a while if that’s how you feel. You just can’t set up camp and live there y’know?” Within the silence, his smile faded and the light went out in his eyes - as if he was thinking on memories from years ago. 

“Being good, being nice, caring - all that’s easy I suppose. Rather see people smile and laugh than not. I’m not stupid, I know people see me as a bit of a joke y’know? Always been that way even when I was a soldier.” He paused again, blinking before he grinned and sat up straight with another laugh, “so hey, if I get to make everyone feel a bit better about their own shit for even five minutes because I’m the joker, well so be it. I’ll wear that badge with pride!” He beamed, and snuck an arm around behind Meg carefully while she had been listening, raising his hand to ruffle her hair. “Nothing to feel bad about Scraps, don’t be afraid to say what’s on your mind for fear of offending [i]me[/i]. I’m unoffendable.”

"I don' think yer a joke," Meg replied with a shake of her head before casually leaning against Fjolte- after nearly a month of keeping to herself, it felt nice to share a moment, and who better than with someone from home? "Hones'. I kinda wish I could be like you', y'know? I [i]wanna[/i] be like tha', t'not take things t'heart so much tha' I just end up in..." Her forehead creased as she tried to think of a good description. "Like bein' stuck in a room with no light, no windows an' no door." 

She paused once more, trying to gather her thoughts. "I hate thinkin' people see me as a kid, bu' maybe tha's how I acted." Smiling ruefully, she shook her head. "There're always signs pointin' to the truth, but I'd just... push ‘em away an' not take heed. I couldn' do that anymore when... well... the whole Gregor thing. Things were out an' there was no turnin' back. I drank a shi'load tha' night, like an idjit." Sighing, Meg looked at her hands that had been busy fiddling with the dark green and black trim on her new tunic. "Haven' since then though... was told it ain' gonna solve anythin'."

Looking up at Fjolte once more, Meg couldn't help but feel guilty yet again. "Sorry! Didn' mean t'make things all, er, gloomy an' such! I'm doin' okay now, really." 

“People think you’re a kid? Or do you just think that’s what people think? Don’t know that anyone can say that about you after all you’ve gone through. I mean… Not that I know what has happened to you all… Save what I’ve overheard that is.” Fjolte looked down on Meg with his carefree smile again, letting his arm wrap around her as if to scoop her up and make her feel comfortable and safe from her own sadness. “Not a bad thing to take things to heart either - means we still have one y’know?” The Nord slapped his chest with the flat of his palm, the happy, toothy grin lighting up his expression alongside the sincere sentiment.  

The crackling of the campfire, and distant chattering was the only sound for a while as he let Meg just breathe. He needed to as well, to take in the surroundings they had been blessed with - he filled his chest with the air and exhaled slowly with his eyes closed. “You want a drink? You have one. You want to go thieving swords for gold? You go do that too. Do what you want, Scraps. Ain’t nothing wrong with just being who you are. Willin’ to put a septim or two on it that’s why all your friends here love you.”

"More'n I think it... Honestly, I don' actually figure others [i]do[/i]..." Meg was mumbling a little, the realization of her words striking her. "More what m'noggin' likes t'make me think." She couldn't help but smile though, feeling a little lighter as she quietly listened to the monk. It was strange that there was a substantial amount of years since they had seen each other yet it was still as friendly, easy and comfortable as the first time. The man knew how to make people feel at ease and almost at home.

She followed suit, breathing in deeply, taking in and enjoying the familiar scents, the warmth of burning wood and the crisp mountain air. She breathed out, a soft sigh, and continued. "Not gonna lie... I like carin' 'bout things. I like [i]feelin'[/i], well, feelin's. An' yeah... I do love 'em all too." Her smile broadened once more, not a grin but seeming much less solemn than before. "We've been through a lot... I've been with 'em since, well, it's been three months? Maybe more, or less, I can' quite remember, but since the beginnin’. Everyone's like m'family really. Even you." She nudged his side with her arm before letting out a giggle.

"Say. D'ya really think y'should be tellin' me t'go an steal things?" She raised her eyebrows in mock surprise. "Are y'really a monk there?"  

“Sounds like you need to tell your own noggin’ to pipe down a bit then eh? There’s a great deal o’power in just being content in being you y’know? Means that nothing anyone says can bother you.” Thinking nothing of it, the Nord hooked his arm a little tighter around the Nord and pulled her closer with a content sigh. He’d be damned if this didn’t feel like just a nice, natural moment to be enjoyed. 

“That caring that you do? It’s rare to find that in people. Don’t let anyone tell you to stop being that way. [i]Especially[/i] not your inner saboteur.” He stretched out a leg, the other remaining bent at the knee and pointing upwards, his free hand flat on the ground beside him. Fjolte tipped his head back to gaze up at the sky. “I… Guess I’m not [i]really[/i] a monk like my mentors were, but I try to live as closely to that as possible.” His head turned back to face Meg, expression unusually neutral, “I’m as close as I can be though, and if I say it’s alright for you to go steal a few things from some filthy rich merchants then you best believe I’m the damned authority on it, Scraps!” He almost sounded genuinely cross, and as if he was actually delivering holy commands to the woman beside him - but his eyes were filled to the brim with mischief and mirth.

Meg blinked a few times, a little surprised by the tone with which Fjolte spoke. Her mouth opened to apologize, but then her green eyes caught his blue ones and his intention was clear as crystal to her. “That so?” she replied with a giggle. Then she stiffened, her own expression one of solemnity as she raised her hand in a salute as she’d seen the habit of Imperial soldiers. “Well I guess I best be takin’ yer words t’heart too then. I’mma go lootin’ the next fat merchant I see an’ if tell ‘em it’s with the blessin’s of the Fabler!” Salute done and over with, she broke into another laugh before relaxing her stiffened stance as she shuffled closer, letting out a happy sigh as she leaned against the Nord, humming under her breath.

“Y’know what’d really make this like ol’ times?” she commented after a little moment. “Mead. Feels like [i]ages[/i] since I drank any.” Her eyes shifted to her pack but she restrained herself- she’d keep it only for a special occasion, she really didn’t want to fall into her bad habit all over again. “An’ maybe seein’ yer hair back t’how it used t’be. Though, yer lookin’ pretty good as is.” She pursed her lips in thought before smirking, reaching up and gently tugging at his beard. “Y’plannin’ on keepin’ this?”

His eyes widened in surprise when she came for the facial hair, and it elicited a long laugh from him that had caught him off guard in a not unpleasant way. “Dunno. It doesn’t really feel like me to grow this out too much. Joked in the prison I could make a braid and bead the shiting thing before long… Reckon it’d make me look a bit wiser or something? Bit more serious? Or would I start looking like an old codger?” His laughter died down, and he stretched his other leg out, the warmth of the campfire reaching the two of them as they huddled together on the outskirts of the camp.

A drink [i]would[/i] be good too, godsdamned good in fact… “So let’s share one then! Don’t tell me you’re holdin’ one out on me? I haven’t had a mead in…” Fjolte took in a breath and his eyebrows lowered, nose scrunched as he actually thought about the last time he’d actually enjoyed alcohol. “Fuck if I know, before I got locked up. Didn’t have any in the desert.” He could see from her expression that it bothered her, and he’d remembered her sharing a bad experience. Getting drunk to avoid feelings. He narrowed his eyes, and brought a hand up to his chin, stroking his fingers through his beard. “Y’know, drinking doesn’t have to be about getting blitzed. You shouldn’t go soaking yourself alone to bury sadness and anger - but there ain’t a damn thing wrong with sharing a bit of drink with a friend to celebrate, wouldn’t you agree?” 

"Wise lookin' with wisdom," Meg replied, a teasing lilt to her words though she had to admit he was right. She didn't think she had enough self restraint to keep away from drink forever, but in good company with good words, perhaps she could learn some control. "Yer righ'." She smacked her thigh lightly before easily standing up in a single motion. "Ain' no better time than now, celebratin' bein' back, celebratin' good times with a friend." She gave him a grin before picking up her pack, unbuckling it and peeking inside. "There y'are." Pulling it out, she carefully set the bag back down -she didn't want to break the inkpot stowed within- and quickly returned, settling down next to the man as if she'd never left to begin with. 

"Here ya go," she offered, holding out the bottle for him to partake. "Hard t'believe I got this in Gilane an' never even opened it. Huh, mayhaps the gods were waitin' til now. Seems about righ' though. Go on then, first one's on ya."

“You’re looking wise and mature yourself Scraps, that hair, the clothes. You mean business, bet you’d even kick my ass.” He laughed, taking the bottle carefully as if it was a source of contraband that might be confiscated at any time. He looked around shiftily before taking the cork from the top, and lifting the bottle to his lips. Taking a large mouthful, he savoured the taste for a few seconds before gulping it down, followed by a loud sigh. “S’good stuff that.” The Nord held the bottle in his huge hand before passing it back to Meg. “Bet some of the others wouldn’t mind a sniff of this either.” He tittered under his breath like a young boy up to no good. “Trust a Nord to find another Nord to down a mead with, that’s what I say!” He smirked boyishly, and took a look up at the stars again.

“You know, this is about my favourite thing to do? Just be out in the wild and look up at the sky.” He grinned and pointed to a set of stars to the right of them, “that set over yonder there looks like my brother Honon’s dismembered leg.” He commented with a loud laugh, his head tilted to the side so much so that it brushed against hers. The mead already had made him feel a warmth inside that the campfire simply couldn’t have done. 

"Ya think?" Meg was still the smallest bit hesitant as she took the bottle, pausing to look up at the stars as well. She couldn't help but laugh- anyone else would have pointed out some profound constellation rather than the likeness of their brother's missing leg. She then pressed the bottle to her lips and took a small gulp. As she felt the drink go down her throat, she couldn't help but sigh happily, the familiar taste nostalgic. "Didju know I used t'be hired t'protect the Honningbrew's merchandise when I was younger?" She took another tentative sip before setting the bottle on his lap, keeping her hand around it so that it wouldn't topple over. "I might've... er... lost a few… in my tum." 

He could definitely picture Meg as a guard at the Meadery, it didn’t take a whole heap of imagination. It didn’t take a whole heap of genius either to know it would probably have been quite a boring shift, so it was of little surprise to him that things went [i]”missing”[/i]. “Aye well, happens to the best of us. We can’t protect them all,” he said with a playful wink in her direction.

She rubbed her nose sheepishly before pointing up at another cluster of stars. "Those stars there, make me think of sweet rolls. Pa used t'buy 'em for me lots when we moved t'Whiterun. Thought it might sweeten my mood." She chuckled under her breath, shaking her head. "Poor thing. He did loads for me, by himself. I hope he's doin' a'ight." She turned her head, bumping her forehead against the large Nord's head. "What 'bout you? Y'got family back home?"

“My parents, my sister and her husband, and my nieces,” Fjolte said quietly, thinking about the two girls. It had been months since he’d seen them last. He knew how quickly they grew at their age and so he couldn’t help but think about how much bigger they might have gotten in that time. “Good strong Nord family us Dhjariksons,” he said in a voice soft as a whisper. He sniffed, bowing his head from the stars, he could make out the shapes of Meg’s face with her this close, pressed against him, it was almost enough to turn his thoughts away from his family. He hoped they were safe. He had been praying for them every day.

His hand balled into a soft fist out of sight of his companion, but he soon relaxed and began to pluck at the blades of grass beside him instead. “I’m sure your Pa is doing well, Scraps. Us Nords are hardy folk, don’t take too well to invaders now do we?” His arm curled around her again, and he gave her an almost comically strong squeeze - as if to remove all of the worries from them both in the moment. He smiled down at her again. “A sweetroll constellation eh? Makes sense to me that’s what you’d see,” he chortled before pointing to more. “If that isn’t a fucking chicken right there…” The Nord waited for Meg to comment on his observation, and he grinned up at it, proud as punch for having made out its form - his hand gently caressing her arm as he continued to hold her close.

"Hm... yeah, yer righ' 'bout that... though Pa ain' a Nord... but he's been in Skyrim plenty long 'nough t'be mistaken for one." She smiled, thinking back to when she was just a rebellious teen with a temper that needed to be quelled. "He taught me t'fight with m'sword an I ain’ too shabby, so I'm sure I'mma see him soon 'nough, pro’ly beatin’ some bandit ass. An' I'm sure you'll see your family soon as well." It was much easier to think that her Pa was still somewhere in Whiterun, or Riften, or maybe even Riverwood, alive and thriving, than to think the dwemer may have gotten him.

Once the conversation shifted back to the stars though, Meg couldn't help but laugh out loud. "A [i]chicken[/i]?" She shifted slightly, and with Her legs now folded comfortably to the side, she was very much at ease, enjoying the warmth she felt from the closeness to her companion; it was hard to sit still and [i]not[/i] snuggle. "Huh, y’may jus’ be righ’ ‘bout tha’. Well, ya jus' havta make sure y'don' kick it, the guards sure's oblivion don' like people messin' with 'em." 

“Ha,” he laughed out at her, a short sharp exclamation in response to Meg’s humour, “they sure do, you’d think the chooks were royalty in some parts eh? Dunno what’s worse. Kicking a chicken up the arse or lollygaggin’.” Fjolte reached over to pick up the bottle to knock back another swig. She seemed in good spirits again, at least. He handed the bottle back, wiping his lips with the back of his hand.

She snickered at her own silly joke for a little bit too before quieting, her mind returning to previous thoughts of family. "When this's all done... what d'you think you'll be doin'? Back on the road, adventurin'? Or maybe jus’ spendin’ time at home… Rorikstead?"

“Rorikstead aye, the whole group should come to my home! My sister Helga throws the most amazing feasts! God’s, the thought alone makes my mouth water something fierce. Pig on a spit, fresh bread, dumplings, stews, hams, cakes… [i]The whole damn lot,[/i]” he sighed. “We have a race, and whoever wins gets to blow the Dhjarikson ceremonial horn and have pick a’the pig,” he explained with a proud grin, waving his hand in front of him to demonstrate the enormous size of the hog. “Course, we don’t do it so much now that Honon can’t run, on account of him only having the one leg. Seems like he’d be at a disadvantage really…” 

“Now I just show my nieces how to do some tricks. Handstands and backflips y’know? Taught little Astrid to do some - tell you what though, Risica is more interested in learning how to fight. She’s a bit like you actually, scrappy little thing. Can’t tell her shit!” Fjolte laughed, picturing them both in his mind. “What about you? Gonna go back to guarding old Honningbrew’s?”

Meg took a gulp of the mead, this time with no hesitation, smiling once she finished the mouthful. "Gods no," she replied, shaking her head. "Tha' sorta thing was fine for a while, but, I got my Ma's need t'travel an' go places. I mean... never thought I'd be goin' out all the way t'Hammerfell, I liked Skyrim plenty 'nough, but y'could say my fancy's been tickled- it'd be nice t'see more of Tamriel without havin' t'run for my life. At least, that's what I'm hopin' anyway."

"It would be fun t'be home for a while too though," she admitted, smiling softly. Fjolte's enthusiasm for his family brought up memories of Whiterun with her father, when it was simply the two of them. "We never had feasts like your home; sounds almos' like Sovngarde. T'was just me an' Pa for the longest time; we'd go to the tavern an' just sit an' chat with the others there. That sorta thing stopped when he married though. I have a li'l brother, Sylven. He's pro'ly like... this high now?” She brought up her free hand to show how high. “Five years old." She smiled wryly before continuing. "I kinda left home once he came along, though' maybe I was gettin' in the way of Pa an' his new family."  

Taking another sip, Meg handed the bottle over to Fjolte once more. "Treasure huntin', maybe. Or... maybe somethin' else, like the Companions. Tha'd be nice, eh?"

The Nord moved his hand again, this time to her lower back, and he shuffled around some to face her more. “Well you know, you’ve an open invite to one of our feasts! Anytime!” His fingers gently danced over the small of her back now as they talked, his voice abnormally soft [i](by his standards)[/i], and gentle.

“I think I know what you mean, and you’re still young too. Could easily carve out a good life for yourself, doing whatever it is you want. Should always follow where your feet and heart want to carry you,” he remarked, joy and contentment glowing in his eyes, their colour highlighted and brightened by the big moon that was on display. “When I was in the prison, kind of got me thinking about what’s important to me. I’ve travelled and wandered a lot in my life. Maybe if Kyne grants me enough grace to make it through all of this chaos alive - might be time to set some roots down y’know? Least, start thinking about it.”

A shame, that the moon was so bright - had it been total darkness surrounding the two, the sudden blush of crimson on his cheeks might have gone unnoticed. He leaned into it anyway, giving the back of his neck an awkward rub, his mouth turning to a mock grimace. “Never really admitted that out loud til now…” His gaze shifted from left to right until he eventually stuck a finger up towards the sky again, blurting very quickly, “looks like a quart of a wheel of cheese! Holes and all.”

Grinning, Meg tapped at the amulet of Mara peeking out from under her green and gold trimmed scarf. "Maybe yer the one who should be wearin' this then?" she teased, prodding him with a loose fist, finding it endearing but also amusing that for once, she wasn't the one red in the face. "Cheese, is it? Y'sure about that? I dunno Fjolte, looks very much like another amulet jus' waitin' for ya to grab it." 

“Hey there now,” he interrupted, his voice jokingly stern. “I mean I just wanna be there for my family, be a good uncle more than anything. Be in the girls lives, take care of my own Ma and Pa. Not getting any younger, the two of them.” His eyes did linger over the amulet, and the thought of settling down with, well, with [i]someone[/i] gave him pause. He let Meg continue...

Chortling, she couldn't help but poke him once more before relenting. "I'm just jokin' with ya, honest." Her grin wavered slightly though for the most part remained intact. "Guess when yer in that sorta... situation, y'get t'see what life's all really about, what's most important to ya." [i]And what's important to me?[/i] That was a question she had no answer to yet. Bits and pieces floating about, waiting to be put together. "Y'know, I wanted it too, for the longest time. Love an' all that." She gave him a sidelong glance before continuing. "But when the chance was there I... I couldn' take it. It wouldn' have been right or fair, t'me, or t’him even. Still, had me miserable." A half smile had now replaced the grin. "Bein' back here's made it easier."

He was incredibly curious in whatever it was that had happened, but as he had done earlier - he warned himself against prying, at least not right now. “Well honestly, Scraps, that’s big of you. Smart too, even if it was hard.” His shoulders shrugged but his smile was warm. “I don’t think that when you’re ready again to look for it, you’ll have much difficulty either. Damned beautiful woman like yourself, by the time that all comes around you’ll have beaten that negative voice in your own head that stands in your way y’know? Once you love yourself first and foremost, love’ll find you.” The monk gave a big stretch, removing his hand from Meg’s back, shifting his weight to the side where he lay down. With a sigh he rolled onto his back. “How’d you fancy finding more shit in the stars with me for a bit?”

For a little while Meg remained quiet, seeming deep in thought. "Well, I'mma take Fjolte the Fabler's word for it, seein’ he’s the authority ‘round here." She smirked down at him before nodding, and then easily reached out and grabbed her bedroll, plonking it down behind her. In no time she was laying down on her back, head resting on her makeshift pillow as she stared up at the stars with a smile on her face. "Sounds like a plan t'me, I can already see... ah yes, lookie there, looks kinda like- no, wai', tha's your brother's leg again."

He drew his stare from the skies back to Meg with another of his loud laughs. It really was Honon’s leg up there, down to the toes and everything. As she made herself comfortable beside him, a thought crept into his mind that he couldn’t rightfully ignore. It practically opened his mouth for him uncontrollably, he sat upright again. “Y’know, this here makes a pretty good pillow too…” His lips curled at the corners into a boyish smirk, and he flexed his right arm - his bicep bulging impressively. “Just sayin’” The tone was roguishly bold, but effortlessly charming all the same. He gave his eyebrows a quick wiggle - as well as a gentle nod of his head, awaiting her response. At the end of the day, he was but a man alone with a woman, afterall.

Meg blinked at Fjolte before letting out a giggle, the expression on his face too much for her mirth to be contained. That being said, she easily scooted over to his side because yes, his arm did seem a very nice pillow substitute indeed. "Well, if yer offerin', who'm I t'say no?" He was clearly flirting, and if it was a month ago she would have probably declined, but right now she was happy to share a silly yet touching moment with someone who reminded her of everything she was familiar with.

He could barely contain the feeling of delight that came over him when she took him up on the offer. It had felt like forever since he’d been close with a woman even like this, and unsure as he was on whether this was something he wanted to pursue further than tonight, further than a cuddle beneath the stars - this was special either way. It was more than just a hug, it was acceptance. Slowly he placed his arm outstretched for her to rest on, finding himself once more on his own back, fighting to stop himself from smiling ear-to-ear - still wishing to play it somewhat cool. “Pretty nice way to finish the night,” he commented quietly - looking at the details of her face again, her eyes - as green and shiny as emeralds, and her lips... They appeared so soft and alluring as she lay there at his side. “I’ll be your pillow whenever,” he whispered flirtatiously, turning back to the stars again.[/indent]