Foxey and Durvs wrote this25th of Sun's Height, 4E205, 20:23… The orange wings of a Monarch Butterfly turned into a fine powder beneath the mortar in her hand. Beads of sweat formed along the crown of her russet tresses while her jaw clenched in concentration. It had been almost years since she last created a potion of any sort. She decided that instead of wasting her coin on a health potion, well she could just make her own. Now that spring had come, several flowers bloomed from the snow melting and from the increase in temperatures. For her, luck was on her side. She scavenged around Dawnstar, searching for any blue mountain flowers. Sevine found a few, enough to make a potion that is. With these in hand, she made her way to
The Mortar and Pestle. Her last visit here, she came with Roze, where she acquired the peculiar perfume of
Troll’s Snot, if that was the name.
Nevertheless, with a great deal of patience Sevine ground both the petals of the blue mountain flower and monarch wings into bust. Now all she had to do was brew the damned thing. That was easier said than done. A few years with no practice since Leif taught her how to handle the alembic devices left her more than puzzled. She felt more like a babe just learning how to crawl, let alone walk or speak. After several minutes of tinkering, Frida, the owner of the store joined Sevine at the alchemy table.
“Would you like some help, lass?” She asked.
“Ah,” Sevine glanced up from the bottle in her hand, “Yes… actually. It’s been a long time since I’ve done this. What am I supposed to do now?” A hot flush spread across her cheeks and raced down to her toes.
“Let me show you. I wouldn’t want you to break anything. Not that you will.” The elderly woman said, “Parts are hard to come by, that’s all.” Then, for the next thirty minutes, she instructed and guided Sevine on how to brew a potion all over again. Once the bubbling concoction began to steam, Sevine settled in for the lengthy process of waiting for the bottle to fill. She watched the moisture collect in the tubes and slide down one drop at a time. A painstaking process, but it saved on coin when she didn’t feel like spending much nowadays.
Two hours later, Sevine made her way from the
Pestle. It was early-to-mid evening. She clutched the bottle full of red liquid to her chest, worried that she would drop it from carelessness. Passing through the market area where the vendors were just closing up shop, Sevine took note of their weary faces. Everyone was on edge. Word had spread far and wide about the siege at Windhelm, and now, the attack on Nightgate left many without much sleep. Her thoughts turned to several people, the first being Do’Karth. Eventually, she was sucked into wondering about Jorwen. Not knowing if he was alive or dead tormented her. Part of her was wracked with regret at the idea that he could still be alive, captive, but still alive. As she emerged from the other side of the vending area, Sevine noticed a peculiar figure heading straight for her. A Khajiit in Nordic armor with a greatsword strapped to her back. Though she did not realize it immediately, Sevine had come to a complete stop and stood slack-jawed, gazing with her eyes wide at the curious woman.
The Khajiit noticed the Nord woman with fiery red locks of hair standing and gawking at her. She let out an exasperated sigh. “What in Alkosh’s name are you staring at?” she demanded of the woman. “I’m not into girls, much less humans.”
Sevine realized her rude behaviour almost without delay, so she closed her mouth and eyed the Khajiiti woman once more. “I’m sorry, I meant no offense.” She said. “It’s just… I don’t think I’ve seen many Khajiit women like you. What with the armor and all.”
Khazki crossed her arms, stopping in her tracks. What was with these bashful Nord maidens? The Khajiit probably figured they’d heard enough stories from the Great War about Khajiit raiding parties that they didn’t want to risk rousing a feral beast. “And exactly how many Khajiit women have you seen?” she asked pointedly.
Her brows furrowed at the question, “Well… outside of the War, maybe twenty or so? Most of your kind that I’ve met here travel with the caravans. And the two men I know… well, even they are nothing like you. Not even my partner.” She managed a shy chuckle.
The Khajiit’s lips pursed back distastefully. “You’re fucking a Khajiit? Ugh. Gross.” she stated, continuing her walk up the path. “So you saw a bunch of outcasts who would sell the clothes off their backs for a few coins or a hit of Skooma and you decided, ‘Hmm, you. I think I’ll bring you to bed.’ That how that went down?”
At first, Sevine’s heartbeat quickened at the insult. “Is that any of your business?” She thundered, her hands curling into fists. Not willing to let someone walk all over her without so much as defending herself, Sevine chased her down. Like hell she was going to let her get away with it. “And for your information, no, Do’Karth and I met during the siege at Windhelm. He’s not some outcast scavenging for coin. What the hell is your problem anyway? I didn’t say anything to offend you.” She finally caught up with the Khajiit.
Raising her hands pleadingly up to the sky, Khazki declared, “Oh, why him? Two hours. Two fucking hours I’ve been here and I can’t get away from Do’Karth, the stick twirling bodyguard of the Mane who everyone frets over because he’s too stupid to buy armour. Raise your standards, lady. Guy like that lacks conviction.” Turning to face the Nord woman, noticing the balled fists, Khazki’s lips pursed into a smirk and her eyes narrowed pointedly. “Oh, hit a nerve, did I? Did you catch something from him you didn’t anticipate, parents don’t approve? And you did the most offensive thing of all; you wasted my damn time and creeped me out with your flat face and small, fragile hands. What were you planning on doing, punching me?” she asked, gesturing at the blood stains and visible bandages. “I can see where that got you so far. Care to try your luck again?”
Sevine saw red, her chest heaved with rage. Her mind took her to the mindset of entering battle. How dare this Khajiit dishonor Do’Karth with her impertent words! She stepped in front of the Khajiit woman and squared her shoulders, being two inches taller than her, she certainly had some advantage in height. “You speak as if your shit doesn’t stink like anyone else’s. So let me be the better person and
apologize for, how did you put it? ‘Creeping you out with my flat face and small, fragile hands.’ I apologize for being curious to see someone like
you.”
“You really need to get out more. I’m like any other asshole around here, just with better hair.” she glanced back at the town before returning to the Nord seething in front of her. “And lady, let me assure you my shit stinks, worse than most. The difference is I’m not afraid to admit it and I don’t hide behind smiles and kind words to try and soothe the fact that I don’t like people. I really don’t care for an apology, much less an insincere one, so just cut the crap. So, what exactly is ‘someone like me’ to you, hm
nammu sera?” she said, throwing in a form of Dunmeris address at the woman.
Let’s see what you make of that. “The people I don’t care for know damned well that I don’t, I don’t beat around the fucking bush if that’s what you believe. I give everyone a chance, because that’s what everyone deserves in life. Couldn’t you agree on that? That someone ought to give you a chance, just once?” Her hands settled onto her hips, she wasn’t going to move, not an inch. Not until she had what she wanted out of this cat. No one could be so hateful and not care deep down inside. “For all I know, you wear this hulking set of armor and carry this great fuck-off sword to cover up whatever problems you’re trying to mask. And this whole attitude of ‘I don’t give a fuck’ is one giant charade. So why don’t you take your own medicine and cut the crap of acting so rough and tough.”
Khazki snickered. “You know, the whole ‘you carry a big sword and therefore a small cock’ argument only works when you actually have a cock. This isn’t about covering up my problems, it’s about keeping the problems out,” she said, tapping on her breast piece, and then lifting her sword to her shoulder to rest. “And getting rid of them, respectfully. I don’t give anyone a chance until they prove that they’re not a worthless bag of bones that hides all sorts of nasty thoughts behind smiles and kind gestures. Word of advice? People always want something out of you. Your body, your money, whatever you have on you. Travel around a bit; you’ll see what I mean.” stepping closer so she was almost face to face with Sevine, her amber eyes cut right into the green orbs glaring back. “Trust me. I don’t act. I’m the most sincere and honest person you’re ever going to meet. You won’t need to guess where I stand.”
A silence fell between them as Sevine regarded her words. There, a smile crept across her lips, part of her softened at the Khajiit’s final words, mainly because there was truth in them. There was no need to preach to her. After all, isn’t that what she had been doing for so long in her life? Sevine stood on a thin line between liking the woman, and disliking her, but as of right now, she leaned towards liking her. Though, she could change her mind in a second. “Would I be careless to ask you to join me for a drink by my campfire?”
That caught the Khajiit off guard. She gave off two slow blinks and stepped back. “Okay, what?” she asked, at a loss for words. “What is with you Nord women and gearing up for a fight and suddenly offering to feed me? Remember how I said I’m not into girls?” she asked pointedly.
She gave a deep laugh that rolled out of her, causing her to double over, “Trust me.” She righted herself and wiped away a tear that lingered in the corner of her eye, “I’m not into girls either. So how about it?”
Khazki considered it for a moment and shrugged. “One condition, you stop gawking. So, why? I just finished saying everyone wants something, and here you are being sweet as a roll and offering a drink like the last three minutes didn’t happen.”
“I’ll stop gawking, you have my word. Consider it as a peace offering between two warrioresses. Besides, I like people who are honest and speak the truth.” She shrugged in return, she held out her hand to indicate the direction they should head. “Shall we?”
“Sure, fine.” she pointed a finger at the discarded bottle. “You probably want that, unless it’s a jar of piss.”
“Might as well be a jar of piss,” Sevine chuckled as she stooped to reach the aforementioned bottle, “It won’t taste too pleasant.”
Later on at camp, settling down into a cross-legged position, Sevine handed the woman a brown bottle of Nord ale. The expanse of stars overhead were blanketed with the occasional cotton-ball cloud drifting across the heavens. She had consumed her potion, and as she expected, it tasted worse than piss. The fire before them provided a satisfying glow of warmth while casting long dark shadows. She pulled the cork on the bottle in her hand and brought it to her lips, she took a long draught before sticking it between the arches of her boots. Her eyes lingered for but a moment on Khazki before they shifted to the fire.
“Where are you from?” Sevine asked, deciding it was best to start off on a benign question. No need to raise the hackles anymore this night.
For her part, Khazki was slouched against a log, her boots, pauldrons, bracers, and breastplate off and stacked beside her. While she was used to slogging around the weight, it didn’t mean it wasn’t the best feeling in the world to take it off after a long day. She’d not realized how exhausted she truly was; this was the first time all day she’d actually let herself relax. Taking the bottle from Sevine, she stared into the fire, ankles crossed over one another. “Senchal, Pelletine. About as far South as you can go on the mainland. Palm trees, salty air, and temperatures that would probably make you melt. Streets smell like piss, garbage is everywhere, and half of everyone you meet is wanted by someone somewhere for some crime. In short, still a nicer place than most of this ice cube you call home.” she replied, taking a claw and plucking out the cork, which she lazily tossed into the flames. “I take you aren’t a local here.”
“Sounds like an extremely warm version of Riften.” Sevine said, and it did. Save for the salty air and trees that had palms. “No… Dawnstar isn't my home. Falkreath is. Only thing noteable that is the massive cemetery. My folks preferred a quiet lifestyle, it's just my sister and me now. She's married.” She stopped speaking to reflect on what she said. “Liliana… just a young lass of eighteen years and already married.” And what of her? Six and twenty years, and just now finding a potential mate.
“What about you? What brings you so far north anyways? Running away from something?” Hell, Sevine still felt as if she were running away, from life, from the Kamals, from her regrets that haunted her.
“I washed my hands of my family, I hope they got robbed.” Khazki replied bluntly, knocking back the bottle, emitting a pleased
hm as she pulled it back to look at the label. “Eighteen’s plenty of life to have made a choice like that. I was around that age when I left home and decided to find an adventure of my own, something that people would write and sing about for years after I die. Life’s not that romantic, turns out. I’ve just been living day by day and trying not to give my hopes up. I was in Morrowind for a few years before this, quite liked it there before the whole Living God Dictator decided to be a disastrous cunt. Made my way West, and now it feels like I’m just keeping my tail ten steps ahead of the Kamal at all times, but they’re gaining ground. So yeah, right now I’m running.” She pointed to the
Kyne’s Tear. “And that’s going to be doing the leg work.”
A crooked grin split her face, “Yeah… you motioned at, well this,” she swept her hand over the bloodstains and bandages, “That's the Kamal. Sometimes… no. It doesn't matter.” She was about to mention her Name, but thought better. Khazki didn't know who she was, so why bother? “The only way you’ll get aboard any ship is by talking to Ashav. Our company enlisted the services of the
Kyne, word is that the next mission is headed for Bleakrock.” Her eyes drifted up to the sky again, star-gazing always made her feel so small and unimportant. It made her aware that there was more to life than what was going on before her.
“I never pictured myself being a merc. But it keeps me busy. I’m not one to sit around at home knitting sweaters, my hands are better wrapped around my axe and shield, or knocking an arrow on my bow. I get restless. Nevermind that, tell me about Morrowind.” She opted, she hadn't really spoke much to Sadri on the matter of his homeland, or Elmera for that matter. Niernen, well that's another matter.
Reaching into her armour beside her, Khazki pulled out the folded contract with a pair of fingers. “It’s almost like I know who you’re talking about. Looks like we’re going to be fighting together. Aren’t you happy you didn’t punch me yet?” The Khajiit asked mirthfully, returning the paper to its spot. “Only reason I signed up is because when I do run into those Snow Demon bastards, I’d rather not be on my own. What I’ve seen so far, I might as well be.” she said, resting the bottle on her arched knee. “You sure are curious. I’ve seen Dunmer walking about here, you never asked them what it’s like breathing in volcanic ash and sleeping inside of houses shaped from giant fungus?”
“I actually haven’t had the chance. Each mission that I’ve had I haven’t been in their company to ask, take for example, this last mission. All of the Dunmers were at Bthamz while I was out investigating forest fires here in the Pale. I’ve actually dueled with one of them. The old Dunmer, Sadri, he might be missing an arm, but he can make even me submit to him.” Her voice trailed off at the last sentence, “So houses shaped from fungus is actually true.” Sevine chuckled to herself before sighing.
“I’ve never ventured outside of Skyrim, and if it weren’t for the civil war, I would’ve have stayed home in Falkreath. I’ve seen every corner of this land, but not once have I stepped foot outside her borders.” she said with a haphazard shrug, “Maybe one day I’ll get that chance... and aye,” a grin split her face, “I am glad I didn’t try and sock you one.” A silence came between them, soliciting an occasional glance from Sevine at the Khajiit woman, it was strange to think that by offering a drink allowed her to relax as she saw her now.
“How did you manage it?” Sevine asked, she waved her hand in the air as if to indicate the Khajiit’s past experiences, “Being alone and traveling, I mean. Weren’t you lonely?”
“I’ll take a mental note; the ones with less of a body fight like they have more to lose.” Khazki said in regards to the crippled Dunmer who was apparently skilled enough to take down an able bodied Nord. Either it spoke volumes to Sadri’s skill at martial arts or Sevine’s lack of talent. For once, the Khajiit kept her mouth shut. She’d been antagonistic enough to this woman, and even then she still extended a hand in friendship. It wasn’t to say the Khajiit trusted this Sevine, far from it, but there was enough of a comfort to share a drink and a few tales, along with shedding the armour. Being social wasn’t her strong suit, but it made for pleasant diversions every once in awhile.
“And yes. Morrowind might as well be a plane of Oblivion compared to most of the rest of Tamriel, at least from what I’d seen. There’s signs of normality there, like trees and rocks and lakes and the such, but it does take time to get used to seeing mushrooms that are bigger and tougher than some houses, flying jellyfish like netches and the like. The Dunmer tend to be agreeable enough, provided you aren’t Argonian. They weren’t really sure what to make of a Khajiit for the most part, but I found my share of people who were willing to look past that once I proved my worth.” Khazki said earnestly, reaching over to grab a long stick to prod a collapsed log closer to the flames. The fire would need more wood soon, and her ankles and feet were too tired to let her move readily.
Khazki looked over at Sevine, raising a quizzical eyebrow. “You’ve never had a curiosity to see what the rest of the world is like? Think how poor your life would be if you’d never left Falkreath. Perhaps this war has some hidden blessings for the odd person like yourself. I presume this Do’Karth has spiked an interest in what lies to the South for you, perhaps you’ll find the warmth and the salty air of the tropical seas are what your soul has been craving.” She paused at the tail end of Sevine’s question, searching herself for an answer that didn’t sound trite.
“Truth is about me, I used to be a much more wide-eyed and optimistic woman, despite growing up in a town full of smugglers and pirates and other shits I believed in the good in most people, and perhaps I’d find it in lands outside of Elsweyr.” The Khajiit exhaled, irritably as she stared towards the flames. “Then reality came swooping in like a vulture and I’ve learned the hard way that most people are as cruel of monsters as any ogre, alit, or troll, only they’re smart enough to know better and have more devious aims than to eat you alive. The particularly vile ones pretend to be friends, like you are now, and try their luck when you’re asleep or drunk.
“As such, I don’t let people get too close and as soon as my ways part from others’ destinations, there’s no regrets or remorse and away we go, no looking back. I’ve killed my share of people who held a hand out in friendship while holding a dagger behind their back. So yeah, it does get lonesome at times, I’ll admit. I even enjoy these little chats and have no issue with being perfectly candid with strangers because I probably will never see them again and there’s no real consequences that way. When people offer things, I take it unless they’re being suspicious, and I’m always ready for a fight. I live off the land, trap small game, cook up the meat, sell off the pelts, forage fruits and nuts, and generally try not to worry about what tomorrow brings. It’s not an easy life, but it’s my own.” Khazki said, finishing off her bottle and tossing it carelessly into the sand beside the fire.
Rising to her feet, Sevine headed to the side of her tent where a few logs awaited their fiery demise. She grabbed two, along with another two bottles of ale, and returned to the fire. There she added the logs to the fire, and passed another bottle to Khazki. She contemplated her words with great care. As her father always said,
‘Think before you speak, lest you make a fool of yourself.’ .
“I’ve dreamed of adventuring away from home, I won’t deny that. However, what kept me home was my family. Or rather, the lack thereof now. When my sister was born, we lost our mother in childbirth. So then our family unit became Pa, Lili, and me. A week before I was set to return home from the civil war, my Pa passed away. Now, it’s just Lili, and me. As I mentioned, she’s married, and I discovered recently that she’s with child.” she said with a shrug of her shoulders. “I’ve no aunts or uncles, no grandparents, or at least none that I know of, and now that Lili has a husband and a little one on the way… well, I think I have my chance to leave this land behind. That’s the reason why I haven’t traveled outside of here.” Sevine uncorked her second bottle of ale, holding it out to Khazki.
“A toast then, to our future adventures, and being independent women with a mind of their own.”
Taking the bottle, Khazki held hers up. “Here’s to drinking.” she said, slinking back down into a comfortable slouch with the bottle nestled in her hands. Today wasn’t so bad, she decided. At least there were two people she could tolerate on this assignment. It made Skyrim seem just a little bit warmer.
Auz
Spoopy Scary
Baklava
Silverwind Blade
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