Sinalare jolted awake from the endless darkness of sleep, the last echoes of her nightmare fading as she sprung from the bed and rushed to the open window. She braced her hands on the windowsill as she shook off the memories - [i]grasping the iron bars on the door[/i] - her knuckles turning white. She peered out over the city from the second-floor room. The early-morning chill, fresh air which had already permeated her room overnight was refreshing - [i]pitch darkness, scraping her hands on the stones along the floor[/i] - and the dream faded. 

The dream faded. She loosened her grip on the windowsill, finally turning away from it. Her things, hardly unpacked despite the fact that she stayed in the room for four nights now, were easy to throw together. Her purse was getting light. If the Adventurer’s Guild didn’t pan out, she would need to look for other work today, soonest. But why wouldn’t it? Surely her name was selected. She didn’t know anyone who would turn down competency. 

The inn room wasn’t quite busy yet when she descended the stairs. Sinalare was always an early riser, even back in Valenwood. Her difficulty remaining asleep was only an added factor. She waved at one of the workers on her way by. 

“Breakfast, please, and a drink,” she requested, walking past to the table which was closest to the door, even if it was built for six people. She tossed her things down next to her and seated herself, putting the last of her coins on the table for the barmaid. 

The drink arrived quickly. Ale, an unfortunate drink she had become accustomed to. She drank it without hesitation but with much reluctance. Sinalare was never a picky eater; it was best to take whatever was available, despite her preferences. When the waitress added eggs and two baked potatoes to the mix, she said nothing, despite her yearning for… ah, fresh venison, she daydreamed. She ignored the taste easily, from practice, and the strange texture; the eggs and potatoes were gone in minutes. 

Sinalare glanced up at the barmaid. She wasn’t the same one as had been there the past few days, and she was staring at the bosmer as she nearly inhaled her food. The girl was young and clearly a bit disgusted. Sinalare glared at her; the girl nearly jumped. She pushed her plate away from her and slung her bag over her back, leaving the inn without a backwards glance at her. 

If she was remembering correctly -  and surely she was - the guild was to the right. She weaved her way through the streets. Bruma was different from her previous travels; the city was certainly colder than Valenwood or Elsweyr, where she’d spent the most time. The strangest thing about Cyrodiil, she thought as she approached the notice board, was how the war was a distant memory; the participants she had once fought had aged and the Imperials who looked her age hadn’t even been born. They didn’t look at her as an enemy, though perhaps they would an Altmer, and she tried to do the same. 

As she scanned the list, she shook off the thoughts. There her name was, right near the top, of course. She tried not to admit to herself that it was a relief; she was sick of asking around for one-time jobs everywhere she went. This way, they’d come to her. Smiling, she made her way towards the guild hall.