While quietly moving her hands through her own bag, Joy spared a thought for the near-silent Dunmer matron. She was sat about as far from everyone else as she could — even given the already tiny space, and the Nord gave a sidelong glance at her. Joy noticed  the way that she was only half bathed in the foul starlight that seeped in through the window, but glowing beautifully like the fire she commanded back at the Inn under it anyway. She had just as much fire in her blood red eyes as the bard knew most Dunmer to have. 

Inzoliah was nice to be around. 

The two had already conversed, and now they’d both been through the rings of chaos together — Joy couldn’t help but feel a tug towards her. She hadn’t said much of anything since they’d arrived in Bruno’s cabin, and the way in which Inzoliah had crashed and torn out of the Loyal Hound had seemed a far cry from the controlled warrior she had been inside. 

The redhead took note of the way that her robes had ripped and shredded, even beyond how they had been before. Knowing that she herself was not about to get any sleep, she grabbed at a pouch from her belongings and sidled over to the Dunmer softly, quietly as she could.

“Are you alright, ma’am?” Joy asked calmly, offering as much of a smile as she could — a tiny silver implement held between her thumb and forefinger. “I can fix that for you,” she offered, pointing at the ripped hem of her cloak first. “I insist, actually.”

“Twouldn’t hurt.” Inzoliah supposed, “Though I don’t mind really, this robe has been through worse.” She had been exhausted since their march from the Inn, travelling all day, getting to sit down for barely an hour and then travelling again at night had taken a lot out of her. She could fully admit she wasn’t the most in shape person, certainly not compared to most people in this group. “I am alright, though, just fatigued is all. I hadn’t anticipated all this… travel, in such a short time.” She adjusted the way she was sitting and eyed the darkness of the room. “‘Tis a chaotic thing that’s happened to us, how are you taking things?” 

Joy had to think on that question. She sat herself down cross legged at the woman’s side, needle ready and attached to a spool of thread. She took hold of a rather large tear, and even in the little orange light that they had, it was only just enough to see what she was doing. “I don’t know if I am taking things, honestly,” she admitted, resigned by the situation. “I’m lucky to still be here thanks to all of you. It’d be no surprise to anyone here that I’ve never seen anything of the sort… Not anything like it at all.” She supposed her admission would make her seem much younger than her actual years, but she sighed it off. Making delicate stitches across Inzoliah’s robe. The pulling of the thread through the fabric creating a peaceful rhythm in the dead of night. 

“You were so powerful, what you did to those [i]things[/i]... Don’t I regret not buying your scroll now,” Joy sighed with the slightest of a wry laugh trailing her breath. “So thank you for fighting so hard, really.”

Inzoliah shrugged, careful not to interrupt Joy’s mending, “Ah don’t thank me, it’s not work if you enjoy it. Isn’t that what they say?” She had enjoyed flexing her magical muscles, everything after that had been a bit rough for her though. She let the moments tick by before she spoke again, “When you get to be my age, you see a few things like this every so often.” The Dunmeri Mage rubbed her scarred cheek absentmindedly, “Twas the war that was the last one, I suppose. Less cosmological problems and more Aldmeri.” Inzoliah’s gaze refocused as her thoughts turned back towards the present time, “I shall make you a deal, mend my robes and you’ll have your scroll of fireball, free of charge.” she declared, smiling a dim smile to match the light of the small cabin.

That made Joy raise a brow, and hold the needle still with a cocked head. “I’ve lived my life sheltered from most. Not the first time I’ve had to run from a place as it burns, though,” she said quietly, resuming the stitching. The fabric felt old and worn indeed, but also [i]special[/i]. Like it had been doused in a perfume that she couldn’t smell or sense beyond a feeling of something ethereal woven through it. “You might still have to show me to use that scroll,” Joy added with another light chuckle. Then she looked over her shoulder at their three male companions. It did occur to her, that perhaps this fazed Inzoliah far less than anyone else. Dunmer had a much different perspective on days, and on life in general. She didn’t seem as deeply worried as the others, perhaps that was why Joy chose to sit with her for the night. 

“Where did you travel from? If you don’t mind my asking of course,” the redhead asked. Tying off a fixed tear, before getting on to the next one. Hard to see now, but in the light of day - it would look near perfect. 

“Twould seem we have a few things in common then, I’ve fled from a few burning buildings in my time as well. Each time I tell myself I’d rather not repeat that again and yet here I am again, escaped the clutches of another burning building.” Inzoliah chucked lowly, reaching into her pack between her legs and pulling out the rolled up scroll. It was fairly easy to use them but maybe that was just because to Inzoliah they were just one-off spells that she was familiar with. Perhaps to the layperson they might as well be Elder Scrolls. She placed it next to the other woman. “I’ll show you how to use it tomorrow, it’s rather simple I promise.” She paused, considering how to answer Joy’s question. “Well, I’ve just come from eastern High Rock, I was the Court Wizard to a duke there, ah but before that I came from Cyrodiil, Cheydinhal to be exact, though I left near the start of the war and don’t intend to return in this era.” Her voice was half-serious when she spoke, as if she was telling one big joke that all happened to be true. 

Joy nodded, smiling gracefully as she continued her work. “A Court Wizard?” She asked, tilting her head curiously. “I don’t actually think I’ve met a Court Wizard in all my life, although, not surprising. I don’t think they’re as common in Skyrim as they would be here in High Rock. I wonder if I could be a Court Bard,” she chuckled. Really, she could quite picture herself sat in a grand manor for some fanciful event, an instrument in hand and her voice to reverberate and fill the hall with a story. With a sigh, she shook her head. “Maybe one day, after all of this is over.”

Bruno hadn’t seemed set on talking. He’d taken his self-imposed duty of watching the perimeter seriously, grim-faced and silent. If Janus had a crossbow himself or the strength to load one, he’d have helped, but the quiet man wasn’t keen to let him. So Janus sat until he got bored of it all, now he shuffled towards the hushed conversation he heard from the women. His tired eyes went from Inzoliah to Joy. He forced a small smile, as easy as he could make it, “Mind sharing some good company?”

“Well, imagine seeing you here,” Joy whispered with a smile of her own. Janus seemed to be doing better, somehow, which was good to see. “Inzoliah here is offering to teach me to read her scrolls, so I can learn some magic in a pinch.”

“Ah, this will pass.” Inzoliah said, waving her hand dismissively, “Maybe we’ll live to see it and maybe we won’t but it will certainly pass. Becoming a Court Bard is something that could happen as well. I’ve never paid them overmuch attention but I’ve heard worse singers than you in some courts.” She nodded her head as the other human cage and sat with them. “Tis quite alright with me, though I don’t believe we’ve been properly introduced.” She had seen him at the inn of course, hacking and slashing like a madman and maybe even riding a horse. It was hard to remember, even her memories were consumed by the flames that had feasted on the timbers of the Loyal Hound. 

“Think the time for proper introductions is a bit past.” Janus smirked, “But, name’s Janus.”

“Tis good to meet you Janus, I am Inzoliah.” She nodded at him in the gloom.