Veta was in a state of disbelief as she strolled, dodged and bumped her way through the crowds and crowds of people that clustered the many streets of the Imperial City. Children, elders, soldiers, merchants and everything in between had come out either for the festivities revolving around their Emperor, or in protest against him. It was a powder keg, to be sure, Veta could feel the tension in the air, breathing in the resentment and breathing our her anxiety of being in the middle of it. Her armour and wits would only do so much if a skirmish was to break out and she was caught in the middle of it.

[b]"Flowers for sale here!"
"Get some sweet Nordic Mead to keep you going!"
"Pyrotechnics! Celebrate your Emperor with the finest displays!"
"Toys! Toys for your children! The best prices here!"[/b]

All of the merchants of Tamriel were apparently here to peddle their cheap tack while they could, while spirits were bubbling and coinpurses were generously loose. Their individual cries and self-promotions eventually became urbane white noise as Veta continued to push her way through the endless mobs of citizens. No doubt, there would be some shady things occuring this day. Veta just didn't think she'd have a hand in some when she woke up this morning. Eventually, the hordes began to thin out, and the hustle and bustle of the festival decreased in volume as she left the worst of it behind. She sighed in an unexpected feeling of relief; she wasn't a city girl, and she had barely had any time to adjust to life in the metropolis surrounding the White-Gold tower. 
With that thought, her heart panged at the thoughts of home. How she missed it so. The great beams of trees replacing the dishonesty and stench of the people here. The fresh air and the green grass, where there were placcid and friendly sheep instead of rabid rats and other vermin scuttling about. 

She snapped out of it. She had a job to do to ever have a chance of returning to the verdant hills of the Great Forest and the rustic stone of Chorrol. 

Veta had finally escaped the Market District through the gullet of an epic gate and found herself in the shadow of the White Gold Tower, it's once-pristine marble elegance still sundered and tainted by the Sacking at the hands of the Thalmor some 30 years ago. The stains of the Great War would not be easily washed, and many are reminded of how weak the Empire had become. Perhaps that has helped Emperor Havfyg justify the means he had undertaken to restore it to its former glory, if not to himself, then to the many millions of citizens living under the Imperial Banner.
Despite it's experiences of war, the magesty and authority of the White-Gold tower still emanated from the white stone as Veta walked around it. If nothing else, the Camorans built a monument that has lasted well beyond their demise, and still serves as a beacon of civilisation at the heart of Tamriel. Veta still felt a sense of awe in her being but an ant scrambling around the base of a tree. She passed numerous Legionaries who maintained an air of alertness and alarm, as if they were on their utmost guard in reaction to the detrimental potentialities that the Festival threatened. Each eyed Veta up, giving an occular assessment of her intentions, and each had reasoned her to be a non-threat fairly quickly. She wondered if they had come across any of her new colleagues, and if they had come to similar, or drastically different conclusions. A thought occured to her - How in Oblivion would the Lich cross the city unseen? Surely even Havfyg couldn't ensure that the men of the Watch wouldn't freak out if they saw an undead abomination roaming the streets?

She reached another gate that cordoned off the city into its famous Districts. This time, it was the one guarding the Arboretum. She stepped through, after undergoing yet another approval by a guard. She gasped as she appreciated the nature of its contents in a resurgent adoration of greenery and flora, born out of her experiences in the confines of her cell, and the urban jungle of the city prior to that. Great trees blotted out the sky in places, replacing it with airborne seas shaded green. Butterflies, birds and other fauna populated the rainbows of flowers that littered the ground, each pedantically cultivated into an organised chaos of botanical spectacle. Not another soul was in sight, save for the gardeners and a couple of guards posted at the edges of the Arboretum. Veta did not rush this leg of her journey towards the College. She never wanted to leave the comfort that the pocket of solace had gifted her this moment. But alas, she had commitments elsewhere, lying across the sprawling bridge hidden just behind the opposite gate to the one she had entered through. 

She could see the towers of the College of Whispers as soon as the gate towards it opened for her, it's clandestine nature permeating from its architecture. Veta felt dirty even walking towards it. She certainly did not belong here, and loathed as the cruelty of the Gods that had led her into this situation. She prepared herself mentally as she approached, as she often does before going into battle, if she has time to. She was not immediately expecting a fight, but she didn't trust mages too well, and those harboured within the College were the most untrustworthy of civilised mages. 

One more gate was between her and where she was needed to be, and it opened for her just as easily as the rest, but with an indescribable sense of forboding. There was an air of darkness here that creeped into Vera's bones, a corruption forking its way into her nerves. It sent a shiver down her spine, one that she struggled to shake off. As she approached the imposing structure, she paused, startled to see people once more, the tranquility of the Arboretum seducing her into a state where she was getting used to a world without other sentient beings. What a peaceful life that would be.

As she stared, she began to understand what she was gazing at. Two fresh-faced mages, their details hidden by hoods, stood at the top of some steps that led up to the doors of the College. An aura of superiority was woven into their stance, and general attitude. Whether justified, or one that was self-invoked, remained to be seen. 
Below them, and recovering from what looked to be a tumble down the stairs, was an figure with a merethic build, slender and lean. It had a familiarity about it, and it took a moment for Veta to realise who it was. 

It the mysterious, purple-eyed Dunmer that had been her cellmate for these past few weeks. 

He was not the friendliest companion she had ever met, but she had at least heard his laughter boom from him as she stormed out of the Imperial Prison following her seething hiss at Caro, so he was capable of emotion at the minimum. It didn't matter if it was at her expense of the Lich's, the Dark Elf was an ally, willing or unwilling, and she figured she ought to get on his good side while she could. What was her alternative? A Lich or a Werecreature? She'd take her chances with someone that could at least participate in society. 

She walked towards the Dunmer from behind, electing to announce her arrival in order to prevent alarming him. [b]"Hail, Dunmer. Have you had a disagreement with the stairs?"[/b]. She outstretched a hand to help the Dark Elf up, aware that he may be too proud to accept it, but she offered it all the same.