Greenie

The Elder Scrolls: Vengeance of the Deep

Through the Streets of Gilane

---

The marketplace, Gilane, 3rd Midyear
Mid afternoon

The way back to the hotel had proved much quicker than Meg had thought it would. It seemed Zahir had a good eye for memorizing routes and directions. After getting breakfast for herself and for him, she had managed to convince the boy to no longer steal from others. Truthfully, it wasn't the crime that bothered her as much as the idea that he might get hurt. The promise of food seemed to work, thank Mara, for a price though. While the idea of giving someone free food pleased the generous part of her, the more sensible voice in her mind told her that it was best he learned from this age that making money- or in this case earning food- meant you had to work for it. Therefore, the deal was that he would have to be her guide throughout her days in Gilane.

And so Meg once again found herself in the marketplace, this time with paper and pen as she drew a crude map, letting Zahir lead her about the many confusing streets that were now quite crowded with merchants, patrons, tourists and every day folk. She hadn't even been that far from the hotel, but now that she needn't worry about a scrawny little thief running off with her money, she realized there was so much to actually see, enough that her mind could occasionally forget the heat. Exotics fruits and snacks being rivaled by other hawkers who claimed to have even better wares, blacksmiths with their constant noise, stalls and shops selling clothes, restaurants, inns, shadier inns that were probably really brothels and hookah bars in disguise... there was so much to see, and Meg knew it would take a lifetime for her to actually do just that.

"Your eyes are as big as saucers," Zahir pointed out at one junction, prodding Meg in the side, which she reciprocated with a sigh.

"Maybe, but tha's only 'cause there's so bloody much t'see," was her reply. She paused by a vendor of a rather tantalizing looking pastry that was simply oozing with syrup, and her mouth immediately filled with saliva that forced her to swallow.

"You should buy that," Zahir prompted her, wiping his own mouth as he accidentally drooled.

"Y'just wan' for yerself," she retorted, quickly moving away from the stall before the owner could convince her that the pastry was needed to complete her life. "I ain' got money t'waste of sweets. I'm just here t'do... what's that word... reconnaisance."

"What?" the boy replied, his expressionless face showing Meg that he didn't get what she said.

"Never min' that, let's keep movin'," was her reply.

And so they continued onward, with Meg mapping out more places. She was quite pleased with her progress, despite the fact that her forehead and neck were damp with sweat, along with the front and back of her tunic. "Let's take a break, eh?" she muttered as she grabbed her hair with one hand, fanning her neck with the other. Her eyes wandered even as she did, following after a family of dwemer, a couple with two children. Once again she was struck by how normal they looked. The boy, he was just about the same age as Zahir. Would he have to one day wake up to find his mother dead and father taken-

"Why don't you cut your hair?" Zahir's words interrupted her thoughts, and she was grateful for that. "Mother used to have hers really short, almost like mine."

"Y'know, that's a good idea. Wanna show me the way t'someplace that can do jus' that?"

It turned out Zahir could do just that. Meg couldn't help but be impressed by the way he seemed to easily navigate himself without getting lost. If he'd had any sort of sneakiness or stealth to him, she would have had a hard time catching him earlier in the morning.

"How'd y'know the roads so well?" she asked as he finally slowed down. Up ahead she could see a barber stall, where a man was currently having his beard and mustache trimmed.

"My father," was Zahir's reply, shrugging a little as he looked back at her. "He used to work in the market- he had a fruit cart that he'd push all around the market. When I was old enough, I would go with him too. It was tiring, and I used to hate it, but..." He paused in his steps, shoulders slumping for a split second before he stiffened them. Meg suspected he was trying to be strong, despite how he felt. She could sympathize. The older a person became, the more they forgot that the world was a scary place, and especially for a child who had no one but themself.

"Well, y'did good," she said, hoping to distract him from his dark thoughts. "Me? I'd've been lost in seconds. You're gonna get an extra bun for dinner for gettin' me here so quick."

The wait by the barber wasn't too long, and soon enough Meg was leaning back in the chair. The area was shaded from the sun, the warmth a little more bearable than when she was walking after Zahir. Letting out a sigh, she closed her eyes, half listening to the barber and Zahir as they spoke. Apparently they knew each other from before. Meg couldn't help but smile, reminiscing of when she was small and would have such conversations with her Pa's associates. Of course, they'd all been thieves he'd rather she'd never heard of, but every experience was a precious one to learn from, right?

As she rested in her drowsy state, her mind began to wander, strolling through other memories, traversing from childhood to adulthood in what seemed like hours but was probably only a few seconds. Faces of people she loved, faces of people who were important to her, her friends, her companions, Brynja... Judena and Daro'Vasora... Jaraleet-

Her forehead creased as she thought of the argonian, their conversation from the day before as clear as crystal. It was still hard to process that he could do such a thing, but his explanation to her, whether she liked it or not, had made sense. What did not make sense was the dwemer dying. She didn't know much about torture, it was true, and she didn't want to. Could someone die due to what he had done? She didn't know, but the fact that he told her he hadn't killed the dwemer was enough for Meg.

But then... who was it? She knew Calen and Latro had been on that mission as well, and then Raelynn and the Imperial man named Gregor. Her mind instantly rejected Calen from having part in anything so sinister- Jaraleet had mentioned he had been opposed to it anyway. She very much doubted Latro had anything to do with the dwemer's death either- she didn't think that was something Daro'Vasora would let go of easily. That left Raelynn and Gregor, both of whom Meg didn't know much about, despite having been travelling companions for a while.

Maybe they know somethin'... maybe they're the ones? It was a dangerous idea, to doubt people from their group, but who else was there besides those four? It can' hurt to ask-

Once more Zahir's words broke her out of her thoughts. "Miss Meg?" he called, shaking her arm. "Are you sleeping?"

"Just Meg, the 'miss' soun's terrible. An' no, I'm not sleepin'." She sat up straight, bringing her hand to her neck where to her delight she could no longer feel wavy locks pressing against her skin. "Well this feels great!"

"You look weird," the boy commented.

"An' y'look like a snot nosed skeever," Meg replied, scowling at him though it quickly shifted to a grin. "Say what ya wan', I'm feelin' lighter than ever."

Her money pouch was unfortunately feeling a little lighter as well once the duo left the barbershop, leaving Meg with a slight pout to her lips. "I'm gonna havta find a way t'make septims soon," she muttered to herself. It was all well and good, living free for the time being, but what happened if the Poncy Man decided they had overstayed their welcome?

"Why don't you sell that?" Zahir wondered, pointing to the amulet around her neck. "I bet you could make at least a few gold coins out of that!"

Meg looked down at her chest, pausing in her tracks as she contemplated what he said. It was true, she could probably squeeze twenty or so septims out of a merchant for it. It was almost an artifact really, something J'raij had found in a crypt and given to her for safe keeping.

"You will be needing someone to keep you warm one of these days," he'd told her jokingly. She hadn't had the courage to tell him that he was the one she wanted to keep her warm.

"I..." The words were stuck in her throat, so she made a show of coughing on dust so that she could get a hold of her feeling. "I could, aye... but I won'. It's too precious."

Zahir blinked at her, causing her crack a small smile. "T'was given t'me by someone who's not 'round no more. It's like... somethin' to remember him by."

"Oh... like Father kept Mama's ring with him." The understanding on the boy's face was quick to turn to grief, and this time Meg didn't try to distract him.

"Reckon you're right there, kid," she agreed, putting a hand on his shoulder and squeezing tightly. "Lucky for us, there's somethin' people can' take from us."

"What?" he mumbled.

"Our feelings. Love. Hate." Meg patted at her heart with her free hand. "An' everythin' in between. They're ours, 'less we let people steal it from us."

"Oh..."

"You'll get it someday," she promised, moving her hand from his shoulder. "C'mon, let's get goin'."

The Elder Scrolls: Vengeance of the Deep

Where the Road Leads

---

3rd Midyear, Early Morning

Megana was feeling quite rested when she woke up in the morning. Having spent all day cooped up at the hotel had been her own choice, but by the time evening crept in, she found herself feeling rather restless and in need of something other than migrating from one room to the other in hopes of refreshing her mind of something other than the beautiful but repetitious architecture. Finding nothing to entertain her mind and neither seeking to disturb anyone with idle chitchat, she had decided to simply call it an early night and had headed off to sleep. As her mind had been a little more at ease than the previous night, she found herself waking up at dawn with no terrible dreams to recount. By the time the sun peeked over the horizon, the Nord woman had already washed and dressed up, simply waiting for the curfew to end so that she could head out. The heat still terrified her some, but she was wearing the clothes she had bought in Anvil and hoped they would help with some ventilation.

After making sure her water skin was filled to the brim, Meg had left the Three Crowns Hotel. The sun had only just risen, so the air was still cool though the promise of heat was there. There was the humidity from being close to the sea, but she very much doubted the sea breeze would be cooling anyone down.

'Less they're comin' from the desert. Now there was another prospect that had the winter loving Nord terrified as well. The group's journey had taken them through all sorts of terrain- was there really anything stopping them from heading out to even more inhospitable places?

"Heh." She was suddenly visited with words she'd often hear from J'raij.

"May your road lead you to warm sands."

"Talos knows the road has," she muttered under her breath, both disgruntled yet amused at the same time. She knew it was something all khajiit said, but it was still ironic now that she thought of it. Bet you would've liked it here...

Her thoughts were interrupted as someone walked passed her, lightly brushing against her as they made their way down the market street that was only now beginning to fill up. Looking in the person's direction, she saw it was a young Redguard lad she judged no more than ten years of age or about there. Head tilting to the side, she couldn't help but think that he reminded her quite a bit of herself as child, from the disheveled clothes, the messy hair, the skittish way he moved, the pouch he was shoving in his pocket-

"Huh." Her hand patted at her belt and she could help but let out a curt laugh. Ya li'l skeever. She wasn't actually upset with him, but that was the only money she had left from the winnings Brynja had generously given her in Anvil. If she wanted to buy even some fruit to snack on, she'd need that pouch and not merely the air that was now occupying where it had been.

With a small sigh, she followed after the bow, keeping enough distance from him that he wouldn't detect her, but also keeping close enough that she wouldn't lose him. Despite the fact that she wasn't angry at having been pilfered from, there was the annoyance that she was getting lost in the streets of Gilane with absolutely no map. Just like with Anvil, she had planned to draw out a crude masterpiece- alas, this morning would not be kind to the amateur cartographer.

A good while passed before the boy finally came to a stop at the end of a short and narrow alleyway. Meg had to admit it was quite a nice place for a street rat to stay in- with the two buildings on either side so close together, it provided a nice amount of shade as well as protection from other elements like wind and sand. Unfortunately for the child, it did not keep away a Nord woman who wanted her money back.

She coughed audibly, and the boy finally noticed her presence. The shock on his face quickly shifted to panic when he realized he'd just led a stranger to his safe place, and said stranger was blocking the way.

"Okay!" he yelped, quickly pulling the pouch from his pocket and dropping it on the dusty ground before him. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have taken it! Please don't-"

"Hush," Meg replied, a small frown on her face as she carefully approached the boy. "I ain' gonna hurt ya."

The boy didn't look like he believed her, but he didn't run off- if anything he seemed almost docile, pressing himself against the wall to put space between himself and Meg. She was quick to notice this, though quicker to grab her money pouch and safely stow it away in her pocket.

"Y'don' look like yer used t'this," she commented, looking the kid up and down. From how easy it was to catch him to his demeanor as well as the way he spoke, it didn't seem like he had spent much time on the streets. "Yer lucky I'm the one standin' here an' not some pissed brute." Her eyes narrowed as she held her arms akimbo. "Why're y'stealin' from people, hm? The way y'are, you'll be caught an' punished soon 'nough."

The boy's fists clenched tightly; he opened his mouth to retort, but no words came out. Meg raised an eyebrow, her expression stern until she saw the tremble in his chin. "Hey," she started, this time her tone a little gentler. "Whatsa matter, kid?"

"It's- it's not like I want to!" he finally burst out. He stuck his chin out defiantly, but the Nord could see the wetness in his eyes. "I have no choice!" It was a look she recognize immediately, having worn it many a times as a child in Riften.

"Then why?" she prompted, slackening her arms. "Y'can tell me, kid. If I was gonna snitch on you, I woulda done it already." She took a step closer to the boy. "Where's yer ma an' pa, kid?"

"My name's not 'kid'," the boy replied indignantly. "It's Zahir." He looked down after that, the fierce look on his face fading as it was replaced with sadness. "My mother died. My father... he's gone. They took him."

"They?" The boy named Zahir was about to speak up, but Meg raised a hand to hush him, realizing what he must have meant. "Wait. I know who y'mean."

"Father said it wasn't right," he muttered. The brave face he was trying to put up failed as a lone tear found its way down his cheek. "They couldn't just come and take our land from us."

"An' it wasn' long 'fore he was taken away by them," Meg finished bitterly, her eyes darkening as she watched the boy angrily wipe the wetness from his cheek. She had heard of such things happening to both Stormcloak and Imperial supporters during the civil war; it only made sense that the same thing would happen here. "I'm sorry lad... I know how it feels t'lose family."

"He's going to come back!" Zahir muttered, glaring up at Meg.

"Aye, perhaps, but what good's that if yer sittin' pretty in a cell for stealin', hm?" Meg reached out and placed a firm hand on the boy's shoulder. "The way yer goin', you'll be caught a quick as... heh, today."

"I was hungry," Zahir muttered.

"Where's yer house?" Meg asked curiously. Just because his mother was dead and his father a prisoner of the dwemer didn't have to mean he was homeless, right?

"Father was paying to stay there. When he was caught, I wasn't allowed to stay anymore."

"I see." There was a hard set to Meg's jaw. 'Course. This was the way of the world after all. Those in power, whether a ruler or a landlord, had the final say, and it was rare to find those among them who cared about the poor and downtrodden.

"Hey," she finally said. "D'you know the way back t'the Three Crowns Hotel?"

Zahir blinked at her, clearly not expecting that to be the next thing she said. "Uh... yes?"

"Good," she replied, patting his shoulder. "Lead the way then, lad. Breakfast's on me." She wasn't sure if what she was doing would be acceptable by the others, and more importantly the Poncy Man, but this boy here was someone she could actually help, and by Mara, she was not going to turn her back on an innocent victim of clashing powers.

The Elder Scrolls: Vengeance of the Deep

Hit and Tell

By Mortarion and Greenie

---

Three Crowns Hotel, 2nd Midyear, Morning

The sun had already risen by the time Meg woke up and freshened up for the day. Normally she would have been much more time efficient and woken up before the sun to greet the morning, but with the events of the last day of Second Seed and, she found herself mentally drained, despite her conversations on the first. So much seemed to have happened in so little time, and aside from the addition of first the orsimer and now a redguard to their group, the rest took a whole lot more to digest.

Food and drink would have to wait for the time being. With sword at her belt, she was headed first to the training area within the hotel, ready to blow off some pented steam and frustration in a way where she didn’t have to hold herself back. Truth be told, Meg hadn't found herself hungry since her return from their mission at the garrison; her stomach had been in knots since releasing those prisoners for the sake of her group's escape. Who knew why they had been behind bars? Who knew what shady business they would be getting up to now that they were free? While the guilt had lessen after her chat with the khajiit, the lingering feelings remained. What if the events were traced back to her group and they got in trouble for it, or worse? Coupled with the knowledge that her companions were responsible for the torture and death of the dwemer administrator meant to be brought back alive, she found her appetite numbed. At some points she almost felt like she was back at sea, what with the nausea.

She didn't think she would find anyone else in the training gym when she entered, and for the first few seconds she hadn't noticed the argonian, but when she did, her mind couldn't help but yell at her.

Your friend tortured a person.

Was this yet another proof of her naivety and ignorance on the consequences of war? She hated it, whatever it was. Having dark thoughts about people she liked wasn't a usual thing for the Nord, and she was having a hard time processing these feelings.

Forcing said thoughts to the back of her mind, she managed a ghost of a smile. "Mornin', Jaraleet."

“Morning Meg.” The Argonian replied. He had picked on the sound of the footsteps of the Nord woman shortly before she had entered the gym. After his little chat with Daro’Vasora, Jaraleet had returned to a semblance of what he had established as his normal behavior before the incident involving Nblec’s capture.

However, in spite of the image that the Argonian projected, he was far from being back to normal. Even though his chat with their impromptu leader had managed to allow him to push his concerns regarding Nblec’s death to the back of his mind, a new concern had risen to take its place. It hadn’t taken him too long to notice that the mood in the Three Crowns had changed in the aftermath of the failed capture mission, a change in mood that had made him become increasingly wary within the building and which, as a result, had left him on a state of alert more often than not.

Something which made it easy to notice that Meg’s smile wasn’t all that genuine. He let out a quiet sigh and stopped his exercises in full before turning to look at Meg. “If my presence here makes you uncomfortable, I can leave if you’d prefer.” He said, surprising himself when he noticed a hint of hurt in his voice as he spoke to Meg.

"No, I don' want you to leave." Meg was equally surprise with the hint of frustration in her voice, mostly at herself because she couldn't hold up a neutral expression. "Don' be an idiot." Deciding it was better to simply let exactly what she was feeling show, the Nord let out a huff as she considered the argonian, green eyes narrowed. "T'be honest, pro'ly the person I want to see right now."

Jaraleet raised an eyebrow when Meg said that she didn’t want him to leave, equal parts confused, and much to his bewilderment and slight frustration, but pleased that was the case albeit the frustration in her voice didn’t go unnoticed by the Argonian. “Idiot isn’t exactly the word I’d use, if one is causing someone else discomfort it seems only polite to excuse oneself no?” He said, letting out a mirthless chuckle. “Is that so? Excuse me for my incredulity, but I doubt many in the group want to see me right now.” He said, laughing slightly albeit, much like before, there was no mirth in the sound.

"Idiot 'cause you think I'd wan' you t'just leave like that." Meg let out another huff, crossing her arms over her chest and giving him a small glare. The fierceness in her eyes only lasted a moment before her expression softened and her arms fell slack to her sides. "We're friends, Jaraleet. If somethin's botherin' me 'bout you, hidin' ain' the answer. Things havta be said, 'else they just fester like old wounds." Or you end up not gettin’ the chance t’say anythin’ at all.

Having said that, she looked away from Jaraleet to where she could see blunt training swords resting in weapon stands. "Hm… how 'bout a spar then?" She wanted to talk to him, yes, but just blurting out what she was thinking was hard. Words whilst exchanging blows sounded much easier… and satisfying.

He nodded slightly when Meg proposed the idea of a spar. “Sounds like a good idea to me, though you will have to excuse me if I am a little rusty.” He said as he picked one of the training swords. “I’m not too used to fighting with only a sword, so my skills have probably deteriorated quite a lot.”

“Well, not like we're tryin’ t’kill each other,” Meg replied as she walked over to the stand, eyeing the swords until her eyes fell on one that seemed similar in weight and style to the current one at her belt. Once she pulled it out and replaced the empty spot with her own sword, the Nord turned toward Jaraleet, albeit stepping a few steps back to put distance between the two. Raising the training sword, she pointed it at him. “Ready or not, I'm comin’.”

Not a second passed that she dashed forward, bringing her sword up in an attack, aiming for the argonian’s right arm. “Heard you an’ Sora talkin’ yesterday.”

“Ah.” Was all that Jaraleet said in response to Meg’s admission of having heard the chat that had taken place in the room the day prior. He easily sidestepped the attack against his right arm, the silence stretching by as the assassin both pondered what to say next and where to strike for his first movement.

“I suppose that's what you want to talk about, no?” He said finally, letting out a sigh. For some reason the thought about speaking about what he and Sora had discussed with Meg left him with a strange sense of anxiety, something that his body reflected in the slight twitches of his tail that started as soon as the words left his mouth.

Fortunately, their sparring bout helped him to keep his feelings in check as he focused on his first move which consisted of a simple feint where he made it look like he was about to do an upward slash with his sword before suddenly changing the motion into that of a stab aimed at Meg’s abdomen.

"Dunno if it's a want," Meg replied, her eyes remaining on the argonian's blade. This wasn't like training with her father where they were both pretty much the same height. Jaraleet was nearly a foot taller than her and naturally heavier than her as well. Rusty or not, if she got hit in full force even by dull blade, it would hurt, and pain wasn't really something she particularly enjoyed.

She wasn't surprised when the sword changed its course; instead of choosing the easier route of dodging the blade, she stopped the stab in its track with her sword, pressing up and pushing against the blade. "More like a need." She raised her eyes to look straight in his amber ones, determined. "What happened there? Did you- did y’really do it then? Torture the dwemer man? Kill him?" The words spilled from her like a broken string of beads. For a moment her blade wavered- she now dodged to the side and away from the Jaraleet’s sword. "Is tha’ normal? For you?"

She liked him and thought him a friend and ally, yet she really didn't know much about the argonian, and this realization stung her deeply.

“Yes.” Was the answer that rang in Jaraleet’s mind when Meg asked him if torturing someone was a normal occurrence for him. Luckily he still had enough of a hold over his emotions to not blurt out such a thing about himself….and yet his mind was devoid of any excuses to make. Of any lies to tell. “By Sithis, what is wrong with me.” The Haj-Eix cursed inwardly, unable to hold Meg’s gaze. He couldn’t explain it...but seeing Meg hurt upset him. “No, it’s not something normal for me.” He finally lied, feeling his mouth dry and his stomach twisting in a knot with guilt at the lie. “But….I’ve done it before, yes, back when I was part of An-Xilee’s armies.” He continued on, evading Meg’s attacks before responding with one of his own. “Back when we were facing raids from the Dunmer we….had to make difficult decisions needed to ensure that we could protect the citizens that depended on us.” He continued on, gulping audibly.

“I’m….I’m not a good man, Meg. I’m sorry if what I did hurt you, but you have to understand...the decision to interrogate Nblec was one agreed by everyone present there, well except for Calen that is, and killing him was never something that we considered. I didn’t kill Nblec, but...yes I did interrogate him.” He said, surprised to find an edge of desperation in his voice as he spoke. “Keep a hold of your emotions….remember, she and the others are a means to an end. You are a Haj-Eix, a weapon wielded by the An-Xileel in defence of Argonia, don’t let yourself be weakened by doubt.” He mentally told himself in an effort to ease his guilt and worries but, for the first time in his life, he found that reminding himself of his purpose, his duty, didn’t ease his mind.

It was a very odd feeling for Meg; while she was dismayed and obviously saddened and confused, seeing the way Jaraleet was reacting to her questions had her feeling guilty as well. It was a war thing, it was a soldier thing. It was just like with Nanine on the day of their arrival to Hammerfell. Most of her group were experienced with such things while she was merely out of her depth it seemed. She'd always thought herself savvy of the world, but it seemed child's folly now.

Her hand gripped tightly around the training sword, fighting to keep her emotions from showing through her blade rather than her words. Taking a deep breath, she held it in for a few seconds before slowly breathing out. "I don' think you're bad person, Jaraleet... I'm just... dunno..." Frustration showed on her face as she couldn't find the right words to express herself. "It- It jus' pisses me off how little I know 'bout you!... 'Bout any of you really. Maybe if I'd known sommat I wouldn' be so shocked, or... or... I dunno!" She looked up with a glare; catching a glimpse of his expression took some of the fierceness away from her own as she let out a soft sigh.

"I'm not like y'all I guess," she finally muttered. "Just a stupid lass with nothin' t'know 'bout the world."

“You are not stupid Meg.” Jaraleet replied softly, shaking his head slightly. “These things….these situations aren’t something that get any easier to deal with more worldly knowledge. It’s just...something that you get used to with time.” He said, smiling sadly at Meg.

Another sigh, this one rather loud, escaped Meg's lips. "See- that, what you're doin’-" She pointed at him with the sword. "You're bein' nice... that's the you I know... I'm just havin' a hard time wrappin' it 'round m'head that you... well y'know already what I mean." She chewed on the inside of her lip for a second, calming herself down before continuing. "But... it ain' like you like it... right? Y'just did it because it was necessary...?" It was a question, but it almost sounded like she was trying to convince herself.

Jaraleet approached Meg slowly and placed one hand on her shoulder. “No, I don’t. It’s something I only do as a necessity, not because I enjoy it.” He said quietly, his voice solemn. “What do you say if we take a small break from our little sparring session. I don’t think either of us is in any mood, or in the right mindset, to continue it.”

That was a small relief at least. Maybe she was a fool in believing him, but she did nonetheless. Whether she was as stupid as she thought of herself or not, there were experiences she hadn't gone through; she had been shaped one way and it made sense others having been shaped in their own ways. She was no soldier, she had never had to deal with what he had... maybe it had been wrong for her to be so confrontational.

She didn't say anything, but her hand moved, and her sword was now pressing against Jaraleet's chest. "Looks like I won anyway," she replied, a glint of cheer back in her eyes. She took a step back and nodded in agreement. "Aye, you're right." Her hand slackened and the sword was no longer touching him. "I... I'm sorry. I know I prob made y'feel uncomfortable. Wasn’ really fair for you."

Jaraleet blinked when he felt Meg’s sword pressing again his chest, laughing when she said that it looked like she had won anyway. “That you did, shows me what i get for lowering my guard huh?” He joked, chuckling slightly, before smiling when he noticed that some of her usual cheer had returned to Meg’s eyes. “It’s ok Meg, you were upset and confused. It’s only natural for you to want answers, and I was the one who had the answers you wanted.” He replied, smiling reassuringly at the Nord woman.

"Well... felt stupid tryin' t'get them from anyone else." Meg returned the smile. "I should've asked yesterday but... well maybe t'was best I didn'." Her talk with Daro'Vasora had been a necessity, helping clear her mind about what she had to do. Going straight for the source had been the best course of action, and though she still felt very uneasy about this man doing the things he did, she could understand why. Or begin to anyway.

"You said y'didn' kill Nblec." She spoke up as the thought tickled her mind, a slight frown on her face. "I believe you... the whole mission was bringin' him back. How'd he die then though? D'you have any idea?"

He blinked in surprise when Meg said that she believed he hadn’t murdered Nblec before smiling as the thought settled in. “Thank you Meg, it means a lot that you believe in what I’ve said.” He said, frowning slightly when she had asked him how he had died. “I don’t, but I know for sure that the interrogation techniques I used weren’t the cause.” He said softly, shaking his head. “But I will find out the answer to that mystery sooner or latter.”

"Hmm." His reply confirmed her belief, especially seeing he seemed to have genuinely given quite a bit of thought to the situation. And why wouldn't he? Killing was something everyone did, but it was different being thought the murderer of someone whose life you hadn't ended. "Not gonna lie... that's kinda concernin'." She knew they were all in potential danger, but such an accusation made the argonian a prime target. "Hey. You better keep safe, a'ight?"

“I will, don’t worry Meg.” The Argonian replied with a smile. “But thank you for your concern. You too be careful, alright? I suspect that Nblec’s death might have far reaching consequences for our group and that we all might be in danger.” He said, frowning slightly.

Can' ask me not t'worry. But that was merely a thought she kept in her mind. "Aye, 'course I will... looks like Gilane's got a lot t'offer an' not all is the nice kinda offerin'." Before she could add anything else though, her stomach let out a loud and slightly embarrassing growl. It seemed now that she was a little consoled, her appetite was returning with a vengeance.

"Haha..." The sheepish laughed was followed by Meg heading to the weapons stand and removing her sword from it, replacing the empty spot once again with the training sword. Once that was done, she walked back to Jaraleet even as she returned her sword to its scabbard.

"I'mma go an' get somethin' to eat," she told him. After a slight pause, Meg stood on her tiptoes and managed to place a kiss on the argonian's cheek. "See ya later, ‘less you wanna join too?" She’d certainly not mind the company, though she’d understand if he’d rather remain away from accusing eyes.

Jaraleet chuckled softly at Meg’s slightly embarrassed expression. He smiled slightly when she told him that she was going to get something to eat and was about to bid her farewell when, to his surprise, she stood on her tiptoes and planted a kiss on his cheek. The Argonian blinked in surprise, having not expected that to happen, and so didn't process Meg’s final words until after a few seconds. “Actually, I'd love to join you. I haven't eaten either.” He finally said after a brief second of contemplation, smiling towards the Nord woman.

Meg let the way out of the training gym. Things weren't all hunky dory, but at least there was some clarification; her heart felt lighter for it.

The Elder Scrolls: Vengeance of the Deep

Curiosity and the Cat

by Greenie and Dervish

---

Three Crowns Hotel, 1st of Midyear, Afternoon

It wasn’t like Megana had purposely intended to listen in on the heated conversation between the khajiit and the argonian. She’d merely been passing by the area, lost in her own thoughts, consumed by the information they had received once her motley group had returned to the hotel. Their mission hadn’t been completely successful, but they hadn’t come back empty handed, and in Meg’s opinion that counted for something. Brynja and her group had returned successful as well, with a brand new companion whom she still had to properly acquaint herself with. So it was quite the shock when the group that was supposed to return with the dwemer administrator not only came back empty handed, but had apparently tortured and killed their objective.

She didn’t know about the others, but Meg could feel the uneasy tension in the air. They had been told quite clearly by the Poncy Man that Nblec was well loved by the people, perhaps much like how Whiterun seemed to adore their Jarl. At least that was the idea that she had in her mind. However it wasn’t the failure of the mission that had affected her as much as the perpetrator being someone she considered her friend. Even though she had remained silent about it, her mind continued to tell her that it was wrong. He would never do something like that. He was a nice and friendly person who wouldn’t caused others mindless pain!

The rational part of her mind strove to remind her that she didn’t really know much of most of their companions. How she hated that part of her mind.

So when she heard Sora’s terse voice next to the Argonian’s calm one, she couldn’t help but pause and listen in. Her heart pounded as the conversation came to an end. She knew eavesdropping wasn’t the best thing to do, but she found she couldn’t quite move from where she stood, fixed to the spot as if her boots had been nailed to the ground..

Stepping out of the gym with an exasperated expression, Daro’Vasora’s eyes immediately zeroed in on Meg and a very visceral reaction took her; she jumped back suddenly and had her claws out, fearing the worst. When she took in who it was, her hand ran down her face and she sighed in relief. “You startled me… I thought you were someone else.” she explained, a sort of apology. Her eyes opened suddenly as she gazed at the Nord. “How long have you been listening?” she asked suddenly.

"Ah- I shouldn' have, I'm sorry..." Her voice trailed momentarily before looking to the khajiit with a sheepish expression. "Not too long... 'nough to know though that he did sommat." Her hands clenched and unclenched as she gathered her thoughts. "I didn' wanna believe it last night, y'know. But hearin' that just now... it was like..." She shook her head and began to walk, not wishing to stay in one place anymore. "I thought I'd been in the wrong, lettin' all them prisoners free... but this-" She paused and looked to Daro'Vasora. "This's worse, ain' it?"

Knowing full well that Jaraleet was only moments away and likely within earshot, Daro’Vasora took Meg by the arm and back up the stairwell before continuing to talk. “Who knows what any of those prisoners did? Maybe they were scum, maybe they were political prisoners. Maybe they’ll take this second chance to heart, maybe they won’t. Don’t beat yourself up over it; you were trying to protect us and had to improvise. I can’t say I wouldn’t have done something similar, you know?” The Khajiit reassured Meg, feeling somewhat guilty that the Nord was even associating her actions with those of Jaraleet and Gregor. It left a pit in her stomach. “I only heard rumours, a few words from Latro and that no administrator turned up for questioning. Asking our Argonian friend some questions just filled in the gaps.” the Khajiit sighed, pulling a bone from her pocket to stick between her teeth; it was already well marked from grinding.

“What am I doing wrong, Meg?” she asked suddenly, the air of the courtyard coming up ahead. Bathers were already in the bathhouse this morning, and Daro’Vasora felt that nothing would make her soul feel clean again. “I don’t know what these people need, what motivates them, how to make them do the right thing. We keep going like this, I don’t see it ending well for anyone.” she admitted.

Meg looked at Sora, eyes widening with surprise before she looked away with guilt. How much pressure had been on the khajiit, and how much more pressure had suddenly been dropped on her shoulders in the last one day? Daro'Vasora was now their defacto leader, having taken the reins when Rhea died,and Meg had just accepted that without a second thought, but if she really did think about it, she knew quite well she'd never be able to carry the weight of leadership.

"T'be honest? I don' think yer doin' anything's wrong, Sora. Y'could've just left Anvil without us, but y'didn'. Y'kept us together, an' I think yer doin' a fine job." She paused in her step to look at the khajiit, unsure if what she was saying was the right thing to say... but she had to say it nevertheless. "Rhea tried really hard, an' she did a mighty fine job too, but in the end- it was just too much for her all by herself, y'know? Havin' t'take care of so many diff' mind people ain't easy." She hesitated a little before continuing. "Those've us that've been there since the Jerall mountains, me, you, Brynja, Jude, Latro, Alim an' the rest... we're all like family now, an I don't think we wanna see you suffer like Rhea did."

Meg sighed softly before cracking a small smile at Daro'Vasora. "Yer not alone, yer no lone wolf, so don' try t'shoulder all the burden by yourself, a'ight? We believe in you, I believe in you. We're there for you, same way you've been for us."

The words hit hard, Daro’Vasora realized as her teeth bit down hard into the bone. It was a realization she didn’t even consider, and in her goal to do better than Rhea did, she was following down the same well-intentioned but oh so foolish footsteps of the Imperial who sacrificed everything for the people she felt responsible for.

“Family, huh? Something tells me the others wouldn’t agree with that sentiment.” The Khajiit replied, staring up at the blue sky above. “I know I’m not easy to like or trust, I just… want everything to work, you know? I thought I could see what Rhea did wrong, and how to motivate these people, and I dare say it’s worse than it ever was.” she said, finding a bench to sit down upon and falling upon it with a huff.

“The thing is, Meg, who would want this? Who wants to be the one to make decisions that could affect everyone else? I originally just wanted to give everyone safe passage and to get away from Cyrodiil, but instead, we all walked right into another mess and everyone looked at me for answers. I thought I could handle it.” Daro’Vasora explained, running her hand over her hair and retightening her ponytail. “I’m no leader. I never wanted to be.”

Meg sat herself down on the bench as well. "Honestly? Bein' a leader is the last thing I'd want too." Responsibility was something she had always run away from. Before she joined the expedition, it was always her or a partner, but no one but herself to follow or lead. Having responsibility over so many lives... she couldn't imagine it if she tried, even if she could sympathize with Daro'Vasora's troubles. "But... if I'm speakin' the truth, I don' see who else would’ve been able t'bring us as far's you have. Brynja maybe. But you stepped up... an' seein' how things're shitty no matter where we've been... I don' think it's fair t'place the blame on you. It's just the way things are now. We'd've pro'ly been in a bigger mess if we'd gone off on our own- we'd pro'ly be dead if we’d gone our own way in Anvil. An’ even here- y’never forced us, Sora. It’s us who decided… an’ if we made mistakes, they're ours, not yours. Don’ hold that over your head.”

A tight smile crossed the Khajiit’s features as she looked over to study Meg’s features. “I was just doing what Rhea would have wanted. Honestly, I wasn’t expecting anyone to stick around after we docked, and now I’m finding myself actively trying to keep people from doing stupid things that could hurt everyone else. I suppose we all have our reasons for sticking around, revenge, loss, anger… whatever it is that motivates people into punching above their weight. It helps to know at least someone thinks I’m doing alright, as much as I’d rather step aside and let someone with a bit more altruism and charisma to step up. I’d rather be back hunting for treasures and competing with rivals for them, I have no idea how to inspire people or really trust them.”

She shifted to face Meg a bit more directly, an arm over the back of the bench. “What would you have done, were you in my position? A good deed that turned into suddenly being a de facto leader of a company of mostly good people who have very little in common save for a shared trauma?”

"Well..." Meg couldn't help but let out a small sheepish laugh. "I'd've pro'ly pawned it off t'someone else. I've never been real good at takin' care of anyone 'sides from one or two more." She looked down at her stretched out legs, inspecting the tip of her boots as if they were suddenly the most interesting things in the world. "But I could be wrong. Could be I'd'a done just like you did- are doin'. Dunno until a person's in that situation, y'know?"

She sat up straight thereafter, looking to the khajiit. "Trustin' people ain' easy, but I don' think you've done wrong with the inspirin' bit, Sora. With the sorta bull headed people we got 'round us, they coulda left long ago, but they haven'. Somethin' keepin' 'em here, in this group, an' I'm thinkin' it's 'cause they realize we've been able t'beat all the odds." Her jaw tightened a little, a small frown creasing her forehead. "That bein' said though..." There was a lingering pause to her words before she continued. "If someone's gonna end up makin' shit hard for us, might be best for 'em to leave." Even if they're friends. The thought hurt even to think it, and for that moment Meg had the smallest taste of what Daro’Vasora may have been feeling. Decisions that were right for the greater good, even if they were to the detriment of a few others.

The Khajiit scratched her neck with a huff. “I’ve never been good at looking after anyone but myself, and Zegol. We saw how that went with Imperial City was sacked. It’s why I’m doing this, and the selfish part of me is saying the only way I’m going to do right by him is by suckering a bunch of others into supporting my cause, even indirectly. Problem is… I actually care what happens to everyone now, as strange as it is to admit. I figured at this point, we’d have all been paid off for our work in the mountains and I’d never see any of you again, and here we are outside of the Empire trying to make things work. A lot of us became friends, started relationships… it’s way more personal than I’m used to, and apparently I’m not immune to the appeal.” She said, her mind allowing Latro to wander in with the faintest of smiles.

“I don’t want to have to drive anyone away or hurt anyone, as much as I don’t see eye to eye with a lot of them and they don’t listen worth a damn. I just realized I never had a chance to really get to know you, Meg; why are you here, what made you stick around?” Daro’Vasora asked curiously, looking over at the young and earnest Nord. Something about Meg put her at ease, and she found the words flowed easily; there was no malicious intent, no scheming. Just a rural girl that wanted to do well by people and be dependable.

She’s everything I’m not, Daro’Vasora thought.

“Me?” Meg was surprised by the question, but mostly because she never really thought anyone would wonder or care about it, aside from Brynja. “Hm…” She scratched at the back of her neck, thinking of something that might portray her reasons as something grander than they actually were. When she did finally continue, it was only the plain truth that left her tongue. “I like bein’ part of the group. There really ain’ anythin’ waiting for me in Skyrim. Pa’s married with a kid, an’ it was obvious that she didn’ really care for havin’ me ‘round… even when I’d be in Whiterun I’d stay in the inn than my Pa’s house. The only person I liked more than like- loved even- is no longer around…” Her hand now gripped the amulet of Mara under her tunic; she bit the inside of her cheek to keep herself from getting too emotional. “I was lonely awhile ‘fore we went on the expedition. I dunno… it’s like I said b’fore. I feel like this is my family, like I belong here… ”

Her hand dropped to her lap. “Sorry, it’s not a really good reason, is it. When I’m doin’ whatever I am, findin’ food, goin’ on missions… it’s not really for a greater good. It’s for us, our group. The thought of it breakin’... not bein’ around… I’mma be honest an’ say I felt lost when we reached Anvil… ” She looked to Daro’Vasora, smiling softly. “An’ I was happy when I was remembered an’ told ‘bout the ship to come here.”

It was a simple enough reason, but one that Daro’Vasora had heard from quite a few adventurers or just general people down on their luck. Home? Pff. What home? became such a common utterance that it often reminded her how lucky she was to have a family to one day return to. Meg was the kind of girl who needed someone to hold onto, because her family certainly wasn’t up to that task, and it made her take risks and put herself in danger for others since it would mean keeping them safe and showing support, even in a weird and kind of backwards way. Daro’Vasora rubbed her temples; Meg was hanging around, caught up in potentially lethal stakes, entirely because the Khajiit led her here and asked her to help. She was going to be the death of this poor, lonely girl who just needed a family.

I really am a piece of shit, aren’t I? she thought darkly.

Meg’s last words hit hard. Her eyes met Meg’s and Daro’Vasora blinked slowly, not sure of what to say. “I… I couldn’t just leave people without having the choice to get out of that place. I wanted to get you all away from war, and I seem to have a knack for finding more trouble. I don’t think I would have ever forgotten you, Meg… you’re a good person, and you’ve always done right by me. I have a family, back in Leyawiin, and my younger sister, La’Shuni, she’s just 18 and was supposed to visit me in the Imperial City this month. I wish I’d gone home to see them, to tell them what happened, but here I am so far away and I may never get to see them again.” She smiled sadly. “I’m sure you probably think I’m a fool, for turning my back on a family that would take me back when you’d probably kill for that. You’d probably be right.”

"No." Meg shook her head, looking a little ruefully at her khajiit companion. "You ain't a fool. Or if y’are one, then we're both fools. Jus' like you, I coulda returned t'Whiterun any time- I mean, before the world went t'shit. I just had it in m'mind that just 'cause Pa's new wife didn' wan' me 'round, it meant Pa didn' either. He did so much for me, raisin' me since I was a babe, keepin' me from sinkin' too deep in the ratway... so many things but I decided not t'believe in him, takin' someone else's actions against him." She rubbed at her forehead, teeth grinding against each other before she finally allowed herself to relax. "I think we all end up doin' stuff we regret, an' we learn from those mistakes. We can' know what's gonna happen to them, but 'least we can keep us an' our friends safe, Sora, let 'em know how we really feel."

She paused in her words, letting out a dry laugh. Guess I really am born under the Lady’s sign.

“Maybe you should write him a letter, when you get a chance… and couriers are up and going again.” The Khajiit replied, grinding the bone in her teeth. “I just always felt I shouldn’t go home until I made a name for myself, succeeded on my own terms. I broke free of the cozy little life mother and father had laid out for me, and I could have excelled at either option, but it wasn’t who I am, you understand?” she asked Meg, a slight smile on her face. “I was given every opportunity in the world to excel, but I was bored and so confined in Leyawiin. I read about the world, about adventurers and kings and heroes. I dreamt of having my name show up in a book just like one I’d read so maybe another young girl like myself would be inspired to do more than just quietly accept what’s good and proper in life and do something daring. I don’t regret my choices, I just… I just don’t know if I was ever truly ready for any of this, and I’ll admit, hearing about what happened to Calen and the fact I’m more or less responsible for everyone’s welfare is weighing on me a bit. I don’t like being responsible, but I guess we don’t get to chose our fates, do we?”

"I get you," Meg replied. She could relate to Daro'Vasora wanting more of out life than she had. Hadn't she left Whiterun to adventure because she didn't simple wish to work as a delivery person between farms and the city? "Everyone wants more, ain' nothin' wrong with that. As for fate... I always hated that, not gonna lie." Meg shrugged her shoulders as she thought of how many times. "The thought of me not bein' in control of my own life? Hmm... I guess in smaller ways we are, but when we bring in everyone an' all things takin' place, maybe you're right an' all that happens an' all choices are meant t'bring us where we are. Even if it ends up with results we don' like, like Rhea's death an' poor Calen.

"Still..." Meg pursed her lips. "Kinda makes me wanna rebel against fate an' do somethin' that'd change things." Maybe it was stupid to think that way, maybe it wasn't, but damn if she wouldn't try.

There was a small moment of quiet before she spoke up once more. "I sent a letter to my Pa, back in Anvil. Dunno if it'll even reach... let's see what fate decide, eh." She smiled at Sora and gave the khajiit a light poke in the arm. "Maybe you should be doin' the same then, eh? Send a letter to your folks."

“I’ve been in contact with them that way for quite a while,” Daro’Vasora admitted. “It’s how I kept in touch at home, and kept being a big sister to La’Shuni. It’s how we made plans for her to stay with me for a month before heading back to Leyawiin before this all went down. Now I don’t know if I’ll ever hear from them again; the Dominion’s at war with the Empire, and Leyawiin might very well be under Dominion occupation now. I’ve tried not to think about it, but it seems like if I face one enemy that hurt my family, I turn my back on another. Trust me, I’ve told myself on a number of occasions that after I escaped from Imperial City, I should have gone South instead. I don’t know why I stayed with our group, other than I was grieving and not thinking things through.”

Meg looked down at her hands, taking in the khajiit's words. So much strife, so much tearing people apart, and all for what? Would it even be worth it for those in power? Their motives confused her and always had. She hadn't tried to understand the civil war in Skyrim. This was far larger, and she was now an active member of a rebel organization. It was almost as if she was a Stormcloak. The thought was both funny and mortifying.

Looking away from her hands, she faced Sora once more. "For what it's worth, I'm glad y'stayed... an' I know I'm not the only one. An' I'm hopin' our efforts make it possible t'make a change so we can see them again somehow... our families that is."

“Well, I’m glad you feel that way. It would be a bit of a waste of my sob story if you didn’t want me around, right?” the Khajiit replied with a smile, standing up with a feline-like stretch. “Thank you for listening to me, it’s not easy being stuck with your own thoughts all the time. You’re a good person, Meg. I think I stand to learn from you in that regard.”

Meg couldn't help but let out a chuckle. "I s'pose that'd be tru, yeah." She smiled back at the khajiit, though she stayed seated on the bench, deciding to remain there for the time being. "I should be thankin' you too, Sora. You're not as hard as y'think, an' that's a good thing. If y'need someone t'talk to, I'm always aroun'."

Daro’Vasora grinned at Meg, offering the Nord a wink. “I just might take you up on that, maybe I’ll buy you a drink or two tonight and we can talk about how a cat from the Empire and a hunter from Whiterun ended up roasting in the desert. For now, I’ve got a sword I’ve been meaning to gift to Latro and it needs to be presented properly. You take care of yourself, Meg; it’s dangerous out there.” she said, offering a small farewell wave before beginning to tread down the hallway, her steps just a little lighter.

"I will, an' the same goes for you, Sora!" Meg raised a hand and waved at Daro'Vasora. It had certainly been nice to chat, especially with what was going on. It also helped her make up her mind- she was going to have a talk with Jaraleet. Whatever had happened, she wanted to hear it straight from the source.

The Elder Scrolls: Vengeance of the Deep

Septims for Thoughts

---

A Collab by @Rtron and @Greenie

Nanine and Meg, 10:30am, 30th of Second Seed, 4E208

Meg hadn't really expected anyone else to come out on the balcony- even in her state she could see Gilane was a beautiful place with much to discover- so she had a look of surprise when she saw someone else had decided to join her.

"I'mma take all the septims I can get," she replied jokingly, a small chuckle escaping her as well. She moved a little to the side so that she was no longer standing right in the middle of the balcony, turning away from the railing so that she could see the other woman. They hadn't talked much, and to be fair Meg hadn't said much to anyone in the last six days. That being said, after the affairs at Skingrad, she did see Nanine as a nice and capable woman.

"How're you findin' all this?" she asked, a small hint of curiosity in her voice.

”The fact that the dwemer have conquered all of Hammerfell before they even got to Imperial City and they’re not just an invasion force but apparently refugees?” Nanine asked, looking over at Meg. ”It’s intimidating as oblivion, and makes things damnably grey. It was much easier to hate them when they were just bastards in dwemer armor that didn’t look old, wasn’t it?”

She glanced over the city, taking in the sights. It was proof that the dwemer weren’t just monsters. That they could show restraint. But life under an iron fist wasn’t a life most people wanted to live. ”And now we’re being asked to help in the resistance against them. I’m going to say yes, personally. The dwemer had an option to not attack Tamriel and butcher parts of it. They decided to do it anyway. Whether it was out of arrogance or desperation doesn’t matter. They forced it to be us versus them or us under them.”

She looked back at Meg smiling lightly. ”To put it simply, I find the whole situation to be fucked to oblivion, but I’m going to join the resistance anyway.”

Meg was silent for a moment, looking at the drink in her goblet, watching the liquid swirl gently due to the unintentional shaking of her hand. Were the others as sure of their decision as Nanine? She hadn’t spoken to Brynja or Judena yet since they’d arrived here; she trusted their judgement over the others in the group, but they weren’t here right now.

“I… I dunno,” she finally muttered. “T’was terrible what happened in Imperial City. I was there that day… I can still see them bodies in the streets, all bleedin’ an’ butchered… but…” Her voice trailed, thinking of their last day in Anvil. “T’be honest, I don’ feel like there’s a real choice in what’s gotta be done. I’m pretty sure the rest’re gonna be joinin’ as well, an’ there ain’t no other place for me to go.”

She paused and took a couple of sips of her drink before continuing. “I just… I dunno if resistin’ even gonna help. All I see are more people dyin’, people I care about. Like Rhea.” Her hand clenched around the goblet rather tightly. “She shouldn’ve died.” Her shoulder slumped and her grip relaxed. “I know… it’s stupid t’think people ain’ gonna die. Still…” She shook her head, her despair from earlier returning.

”No, it's not stupid. It’s hopeful. It’s what’s needed. No one wants anyone to die. If we all had our way, we’d sit the dwemer down, talk peace, and they’d go back to their ruins and do some trade. We don’t have that choice unfortunately. And you’re right, resistance will cause more death. But there will be even more if we do nothing and let them continue to rule with an iron fist.” Nanine stopped for a moment, seeing Meg seem to slip back into whatever brought her out onto the balcony in the first place. The girl seemed more troubled than before.

”Imperial City was your first experience in a war, wasn’t it?”

Silence followed for a small moment before Meg let out a weak chuckle. “Guessin’ it’s pretty obvious, eh?” She let out a breath before downing her drink. “Aye, that’d be right. Not that I haven’ seen people die b’fore, or even killed b’fore- did plenty of that with draugrs an’ bandits back in Skyrim. Still, it’s different ain’ it? I mean… especially now. T’was easier when I thought they were just… monsters, like draugrs an’ falmers. But…” Her voice trailed and she shook her head. “They’re men, women, kids. Just like me. I dunno…”

She looked over at Nanina, searching the Breton’s face for answers. “Are you sure? About what you wanna do?”

Nanine looked out over the city of Gilane, pondering. She knew it was the right choice to make. But it was also the bloody choice. People were going to die, and not all of them were going to deserve it. But was there any other choice to make? She looked back to Meg, seeing the need for answers and perhaps reassurance there. ”No.” Nanine admitted, lightning sparking gently between her fingers as she held them at her side. ”I’m scared that it's the wrong choice for the right reasons, and that in the end it’ll only do more harm than good. I’m worried that there’s another option we’re missing, that would find a way to make enough room for everyone and make everyone happy. And I’m not certain that the price we may have to pay for this will be worth whatever victory we may win.”

She sighed, turning to grip the balcony. Lighting still danced along her hands, the presence of magic comforting her. ”But it's the only choice I see in front of me. I doubt the dwemer will just listen and agree if we send delegations demanding the return of Redguard and Imperial sovereignty and that they settle in their ruins or establish other settlements. And it’s not right, what they did. You can’t return to areas that were left abandoned for centuries or more, subjugate or slaughter the populace that had risen in your absence, and then try to make people accept the new world order like it happened naturally. The choice I’ve made is the right choice, of that I’m sure. I’m just not certain it's the best choice.

”You’re right to be worried Meg. This course is going to put us head to head with the Dwemer, and we’ve seen what they’re capable of. That being said, if we participate in this, we can change things for the better. I’m not fighting because I hate the dwemer, I’m sure they feel they have no choice either. You don’t bring your civilians to a recently invaded and conquered territory without good reason, after all. I’m fighting so that we can have real peace talks that are on even footing, and not the conquerors telling the conquered how it will be. Some people in this resistance are bitter and angry. They’ll want complete annihilation and defeat of the dwemer. I think that will create a cycle of violence that won’t end until true genocide has been achieved on one side or the other. So I’m going to be involved to hopefully help cooler heads prevail, and make peace that everyone deserves. I can’t tell you what path to to choose Meg. I can only tell you to ask yourself why you’d be fighting, and what you’d fighting for, and let that help guide you.”

Meg set the empty goblet on the balcony floor before leaning against the railing, resting her arms over it as she looked down. Why was she fighting? So far it had always been for survival against the dangers of Skyrim, and then the dangers underground. Always for herself, now that she thought about it. “Good question... “

She already knew the answer though, didn’t she? It was the same reason she had gone from Imperial City to Skingrad, and then Anvil and now Gilane. This group was her family now, and she didn’t want them to have to spend the rest of their lives on the run. Everyone had things they wanted to do rather than they needed, and that required peace and stability. It would be harder to fight now that she could see that the Dwemer weren’t just monsters, but… if she wanted her family to be happy, she had no choice. She could no longer just think about herself.

“I’m gonna need more ‘an just a septim,” she said ruefully, looking over at Nanine, giving the Breton a smile.

Nanine chuckled, then held up her hands helplessly. Megana at least seemed to be more sure of herself, if not feeling 100% better. ”Unfortunately, the events of the last few months have left me pretty poor. I can only offer you a septim. Or drawings, if you prefer. Either way, you’re not gonna get the money you deserve for the thoughts. ” She looked out at the city once more, wondering how she had ended up in such a situation. Planning to join a secret rebellion against the dwemer, who had returned after thousands of years and promptly conquered all of Hammerfell and parts of Cyrodiil. A few months ago she had just been casually looking for work in Imperial City.

”Funny where life’s twist and turns take us, isn't it?”

“Aye,” Meg agreed, a little rueful, though for the moment her darker thoughts were quelled. She looked to Nanine curiously. “Where’d ya think life was gonna take you?” The Breton had a way with words that had calmed her, and Meg only felt it fair to learn more about her companion.

”Well, first time it was that I was going become a Legion lifer and eventually fight against the Dominion in the next Great War. Then Wayrest burned down and I lost my family that survived it and my motivation to become a lifer with it, so the Legion was only a temporary healing process. When I was in Imperial City I’d figured I’d be an adventurer for hire for a few years, hit it big on some ruin or the other, and retire to occasionally teach magic and draw in my free time. Now I’m here, figuring that after this is all over I’ll rejoin the Legion to help rebuild what's left. Ten septims say that I’ll end up somewhere else instead.”

Nanine shrugged, smiling over at Meg. ”Maybe I should just follow in Rhona’s shoes, and just plan for wherever the wind takes me. Where’d you think life was gonna take you?”

“Me?” Meg blinked at the question before smiling. “Pa always said I was like m’Ma. Wanderin’ an’ findin’ adventure was what she did, though she was more a hunter. Me? A treasure hunter. Usin’ the same skills but for two differen’ things.” She let out a breath as she sat back on the cushions, feeling more relaxed than she had before. “An’ now, looks like I'm a rebel. But if I'm bein’ honest…” She looked a little embarrassed. “I always thought I'd end up like Ma in other regards too. Findin’ a nice person to wed, an head out on adventures together.” She rubbed her nose, chuckling softly. “Aye, silly thoughts. Seemed simple enough when I'd dream 'bout it ”

She sat up straight thereafter, deciding she had enough with thinking about past hopes and dreams, at least for the time being. “Seems I finally got me an appetite,” she remarked. “How ‘bout a bite to eat?”

”I don’t think they’re silly at all. Dreams like that keep the world running.” Nanine replied with a smile. Her smile widened at the offer to go get something to eat. It had been on the back of her mind, admittedly, since they had first made it to the inn.

”Oh good, I thought that was just me beginning to get hungry. This place looks like it has wonderful food, at least compared to ship dinners and on the road dinners, and I am all for trying it.” Nanine gestured. ”After you.”

The Elder Scrolls: Vengeance of the Deep

Gilane, Hammerfell - 30th of Second Seed

Unlike her first days in Imperial City, Skingrad and then Anvil, Meg did not choose to leave the lush and luxurious accommodations the group had been afforded by the man who called himself the Poncy man. She had barely been able to keep up with his long and elaborate welcome, save that they were here to stay as long as they wished to help efforts of freedom. At least that was what her confused and weary mind could understand. As soon as they were lead to their allocated rooms and the guards had left them to their own devices, Meg headed to one of the beds nearest the curtained off balcony, setting her belongings on the bed with a sigh. Following this she opened the chest at the foot of the bed and carefully set her enchanted armour within. She hadn't worn it since that day, and she very much doubted she would in the next few days. The heat coupled with seasickness hadn't been good for her- six days of feeling dehydrated and vomiting had not been pleasant. Even thinking about it caused her to feel weird in the stomach. Without further ado she headed to the curtain and pulled it to the side, allowing a little breeze to enter the room freely.

When she had at last pulled off her boots and set them on the floor by her bedside, Meg flopped down on the soft inviting bed, practically sinking in. Her eyes shut and she let herself get lost in the moment, if only for a little while. She had never touched anything as rich as the sheet on the bed, or the cushion that supported her head. The inns she had visited in Skyrim couldn't compare to this. The textures, the colours, the scent... everything was so different.

Meg turned around so that she was now laying on her belly, face half pressed against the cushion. Skyrim. A sudden ache filled her chest as her eyes stung; she closed her eyes tightly, unwilling to let any tears escape. A small blink was all it too to let the salty little streams loose. It was hard to admit it yet again, but here she was pining for her home country once more. The mountains, the tall pine trees, the snow glistening under the morning sun... it seemed like years since she had last been there, even though she knew that was certainly not the case. It was silly, stupid, it wasn't her. Since when had she become someone who dreaded new places and new adventures to seek?

A silent breath escaped her and she once more closed her eyes, though in a relaxed fashion. Her mind was in a turmoil, confusion tumbling in her mind just like food had tumbled in her stomach on the ship. The dwemer were here. They had run away from those murderers in Imperial City, suffered in Skingrad, escaped the Aldmeri Dominion in Anvil... and all for what? To find themselves back under the thumb of the dwemer once more? Memories of the dead bodies littering the streets of Imperial City flooded her mind. All that wanton killing, what had it been for?

They weren't the ones who killed Rhea. Her hand tightened around the edge of the sheet. After all the Imperial woman had did for them, keeping the group together and leading them to safety, she met her end just as they were about to escape yet again. Altmer, Dwemer.... who were right? Who were wrong?

Letting out a wrangled sigh, Meg jerked around in bed and sat up, elbows on her knees and forehead pressed against her palms, her fingers pressed against her hair. What was she even thinking? Altmer? Dwemer? Why just them? What about the nords fighting each other? The Imperials and the Stormcloaks? The argonians, the dunmer? Were there truly any race that hadn't harmed the other?

As much as she simply wished to sleep, Meg knew quite well that her troubled thoughts would allow no such thing. Sighing yet again, she stood up and headed to the dining table, pouring herself a drink before heading out to the balcony. Perhaps the open air and the beautiful sights of Gilane would help. And if that didn't help, maybe a few more drinks would.

The Elder Scrolls: Vengeance of the Deep

Clarity by the Harbour

by Greenie and @Mortarion

---

Anvil, 22nd of Last Seed, Early Afternoon

After the fighting, scolding and healing, Megana had spent most of the rest of the day in the inn in her bedroom, whiling the hours away in the consumption of food, drink and copious amounts of sleep. It was probably a rather lazy way to spend her first day in the beautiful city of Anvil, but after the long journey and body check from Brynja, she hadn’t really cared much for sightseeing. In fact, aside from fiddling in the money pouch for septims to pay the innkeeper with, she hadn’t even counted to see how much exactly was in the pouch.

Morning had brought rest with a headache from maybe having a little too much to drink… but also the realization that she was a hundred septims richer than she had been yesterday morning. Therefore, after freshening up and having breakfast- it really was hard to resist delicious smelling food- Meg had left the Flowing Bowl to peruse the city and finally buy a shirt that didn't look older than she was. Of course, she was probably in need of new trousers and boots and a whole lot of other new things, but she’d always been the frugal type. It hadn’t taken her too long before she came across a vendor who had just what she wanted. Whether she persuaded him or he persuaded her, the end result of that transaction was that Meg now had a set of barely worn clothes for half the price.

After a little more wandering and sightseeing, including glances (or perhaps gawking) at the Chapel of Dibella, Meg finally returned to the inn and proceeded to change her clothes. It felt nice, finally having clean, grimless clothes touching her skin. True she had lived a lot of her life as a streetrat and was used to muck here, there and everywhere, but that hardly meant she couldn’t enjoy life’s simpler pleasures.

One of which included looking out at the harbour as she once more exited the tavern, watching the waves crashing against the shore, so different from the waves she used to watch as a child in Riften.

After his chat with Alim, Jaraleet had retreated to his room at the inn and started jotting down what information that he had gathered, and which he had deemed important due to the current situation, throughout the course of the conversation he had with the half-blooded thief. The self-imposed task had left the Haj-Eix will little hours of sleep, but the assassin didn’t mind all too much. In his line of work long nights and little sleep were par for the course but, even so, the ambiance of the inn had started to become overbearing for the Argonian assassin.

Changing from the leather armor that he had been wearing ever since that fateful Dwemer ambush that had decimated the Colovian Rangers into his, relatively, clean set of normal clothes, Jaraleet made his way out of the inn and to the nearby harbour close to it. There, he was surprised to find Megana Corvus who seemed lost in her thoughts as she watched the waves crash against the shore. “Something on your mind Meg?” The Argonian asked curiously as he approached the Nord woman, crossing his arms over his chest as he turned to look at the same sight she did as he waited for a reply.

Meg looked up when she heard the voice, surprised to see who it was though not startled from the break in the silence; she had heard the footsteps. “Jaraleet, nice seein’ you here!” She smiled a little before shaking her head at his question. “Y’mean, aside from the usual ‘what’m I doin’ with m’life?’ sorta thoughts? Nothin’ much.” She took in a breath, enjoying the scent of the sea air. “Just kinda enjoyin’ the peace while it’s still ‘round, y’know?”

With that said, she sat down cross legged on the ground, not too worried about dust and dirt clinging to her new clothes.

"What 'bout you, Jaraleet?" she asked curiously once she was settled, leaning back on her hands and craning her neck so that she could keep eye contact with the tall argonian. Aside from the obvious race similarities, he was as different from Judena as an oak tree from a pine. "Got any plans for the future?"

“Hmmm, any plans for the future?” Replied the Argonian, thinking for a few seconds before he spoke again. “Well, I’m planning to stick with your group if Rhea, and the rest of you of course, will have me.” He said matter of factly to Meg’s last question. “As for what I’m doing right now, well...the inn was starting to be a little suffocating so I decided to head out for a walk.” Said the assassin. “I also want to enjoy what peace there is to be found here, it’s a welcome respite after all the chaos of the Dwemer ambush and what the Dominion did.” He replied, sitting next to Meg after having noticed that she had to crane her neck if she wanted to keep eye contact with him.

He remained in silence for a few seconds, letting himself enjoy the warmth of the sun before he let out a sigh. “All that has happened seems almost surreal in the face of this peace, doesn’t it?” The Argonian chuckled humorlessly, falling silent once again. “What about you Meg? Got any plans for the future yourself?”

"Honestly?" Meg sat up straight and shrugged her shoulders. "I dunno, really. I've been all sortsa unsure even 'fore the dwemer attacked, back in Imperial City." She shifted around, still cross legged, so that she was no longer looking to the water and focusing on Jaraleet instead. "'Fore any of this happened, I used t'wander lots, head down into catacombs an' crypts... treasure huntin'. That's what got me interested in the expedition to the Jerall Mountains, y'know? I thought I'd come out rich, maybe snag some shinies t'sell on the side, return t'wanderin' 'round Skyrim. An' now? I'm wanderin' Cyrodiil with no clue what's what."

Letting out a huff of a sigh, Meg rocked back and forth before turning to face the water once more. "Pretty darn sure you're as welcome t'stay with the group as any of us, though..." Her mouth twitched, unsure how to continue. "I didn' agree with what Sora told Rhea yesterday... still, I dunno if she's got sommat planned or if the group's just waitin' to splinter off... Nothin's certain, an' that kinda gives me a weird feelin'."

She prodded her stomach with her fist before giving the argonian a sheepish smile. "Sorry 'bout that. Kinda just unloaded a shitload on ya there."

“There’s no need to apologize Meg.” Jaraleet said with a smile. “This are chaotic times, it’s only natural to feel confused and lost. I’m only glad that I could lend an ear for you to vent your worries.” He finished, tapping his chin slightly in contemplation. “I can’t speak of what’s going through Rhea’s mind, I’m not her nor I have nearly known her as long as you have, but from what I’ve seen, I’d wager that she wouldn’t want the group to separate. For better or worse, she wants you all to stay together.” The assassin spoke, pondering for a second whether to continue or not. “Though, for what is worth, I believe that the idea of remaining together is a good one. Splitting up in a situation like this one, as if nothing had happened, seems unwise to me. The chaos throughout Cyrodiil as a result of the invasion is still rampant, and one never knows what kind of person is waiting at the next turn of the road.” He said finally, shaking his head slightly before continuing. “No, it’s for the best to remain with people you already know in this kinds of times. I understand that it's not like you and the others have known each other for years, or something similar to that but it seems safer to stay together rather than scattering like leaves in the wind.”

“Though….I suppose I don’t have much room to talk, it’s not like I’ve been with you guys all that long either.” He said with a light chuckle, shaking his head slightly and smiling. “I’m not sure if it’s of much consolation what I just said but, well, hopefully it will ease some of your concerns in regards to what is to come for this group. I know at least that I offered Rhea my help if she so wished, so I’ll stay with her and those who decide to remain at her side.”

"My Pa used'ta say you can find out lots 'bout a person by travellin' with 'em, an' I think Skingrad t'here was enough of a journey t'get to know you. So I'm thinkin' I know you an' the rest well enough." Meg was momentarily quiet, eyes following the ripples in the water. "You're right though... I mean, 'bout stickin' together, for me anyway. No one I know here 'cept y'all..." She thought of yesterday afternoon, smiling a little as she recalled the bout with Brynja. "I like bein' 'round the others, you included. Feels like family... a really weird one, but still."

She rubbed at her nose, a little embarrassed by the sentiment. "I do got my own real family back in Skyrim, Pa an' his son. Wrote Pa a letter just yesterday... dunno if it'll reach but it felt nice." She nodded at Jaraleet. "What 'bout you? Anyone back home for ya?"

Jaraleet chuckled slightly as Meg mentioned that the group seemed to feel like a family, a strange family but a family nonetheless. “I know how you feel.” He said, smiling fondly as he recalled childhood memories of his fellow Haj-Eix back when they were trainees. His train of thought was interrupted when Meg asked him if he had anyone back home for him and, for a split second, Jaraleet almost told her about his fellow brothers and sisters in the Hidden Scales.

“It’s….complicated.” He began after a few seconds of silence as he processed the fact that he had almost told Meg who he truly was on an impulse driven by nostalgia. “My mother….well, she was an alchemist and was attacked by some of the beasts that dwell in Blackmarsh while gathering ingredients.” The Argonian lied, having already thought of the lie in case someone in the group asked him about his family. “A group of city guards from Helstrom, my home city, managed to find her before she expired….me and my father, we managed to say our goodbyes to her before she returned to the Hist.” The Argonian said solemnly, letting out a quiet sigh. “My father still lives in Helstrom, far as I know, but I can’t really return to Black Marsh.” He said to Meg.

“It’s….it’s been a long while since I’ve seen him.” He said to her, shaking his head slightly. “But I have some family in Anvil, managed to see them at the very least. Though I told them to return to Black Marsh, it seems more safe than staying in Anvil waiting for the Dwemer to come knocking.” He said, offering a small smile to the Nord woman.

"Heh..." Meg reached out and placed a hand on the argonian's arm, patting it slightly, sympathy clear in her green eyes. "Now's my turn t'say I know how you feel." She placed her hand in her lap once more before continuing. "My Ma was an adventurer you could say. Her an' Pa both, but 'specially her. She used t'be in the Companions, so huntin' things down was sorta her thing. She'd stopped when I was born but I guess she got itchy feet..." She let out a chuckle. "Pro'ly where I got 'em from. Anyway, she died when she was huntin' a coven of witches..."

She sighed a little. "Pa took it hard for a long time but he came to. We moved to Riften, stayed there awhile... moved to Whiterun. He's still there, with his wife an' their son." Her fingers fiddled with the hem of her tunic as she thought of the letter. What would Marne thing when it reached... if it reached?

"Whiterun's a long way from Imperial City," she muttered. "Still, kinda scary thinkin' the dwemer might get there too."

Jaraleet was surprised when he felt Meg patting his arm slightly and the sympathy displayed in her eyes made him feel guilty, for the first time in years, for having to lie to her. He nodded when she explained what had happened with her mother and how her father had taken the loss. “Yes, I understand, my father didn’t take it well either, but like yours he managed to pull through.” He said softly.

He listened as she voiced her worries about the Dwemer reaching Whiterun and, much like she had done but a few moments ago, Jaraleet placed his hand on her arm gently before patting it slightly. “I’m sure that your father will be fine.” He said softly, smiling at Meg. “I don’t know much about him, aside from what you’ve told me….but I’m sure that he’s a strong man so I think that he’ll be fine.” Jaraleet said, turning to look at the ocean.

Meg chuckled, feeling both sheepish but proud of her father. "Aye, he was a soldier for a bit there... taught me how to use m'sword once we left Riften." He had used the training to distract her from more heinous activities, probably not realizing that just like himself and his beloved wife, Meg had prowess in handling a sword.

"Hm... Y'know, you're right." She couldn't help but smile as she thought of what Jaraleet said. "My Pa taught me; only makes sense if I can survive a whole buncha shit, then he'd be able to as well."

Letting a few moments of companionable silence pass, she finally spoke once more. "Y'know, I owe you one. I feel much more... eh... what's that word..." Her face scrunched momentarily before a look of enlightenment straightened her features. "At ease. I still got my path t'find, whatever that'll be... but 'least I know one thing for sure; I'mma stay with this group 'til I'm the last one."

Meg let out an audible breath before nudging the argonian with her arm. "You hungry? How 'bout lunch's on me?" She smirked as her hand patted her money pouch. "An' then I can tell you all 'bout how I got a bunch of septims by doin' pretty much nothin'."

Jaraleet smiled at Meg’s words, glad that what he had said helped the Nord woman to be at ease. “There’s no need to thank me Meg, I’m just glad that I managed to help you.” He replied, chuckling softly when she nudged him with her arm. “Though I will accept the free lunch.” He joked, smiling again before he stood up. “Guess it’s back to the tavern for us then, unless you had another place in mind to go?”

"Eh... I'mma say the tavern, don' wanna get lost an' be hungry at the same time." She chuckled once more before standing up and stretching, arms reaching up for the sky. "I'll pro'ly go lookin' 'round after, but for now I gotta hole in here-" she patted her stomach "- that I wanna fill."

“That’d be rather annoying, I have to agree.” Jaraleet replied with a chuckle to Meg’s comment about not wanting to be lost and hungry at the same time. “Hmmm, I think I’ll do the same. It’d do me some good to stretch my legs a bit more, maybe buy a few things in case we return to the road sooner rather than latter.” He said, beginning to make his way towards the tavern.

"Aye," Meg returned, following after the argonian, a small but noticeable spring in her step. "That's a good line o' thought there."

The Elder Scrolls: Vengeance of the Deep

Meg had never felt more like a leaf being tossed about by the wind until their journey from Skingrad to Anvil. Yes, she was a traveller, a wayfarer who was always on the go, but there was always an end result to that travelling, one that would leave her feeling satisfied and accomplished. Yet now... or rather, since the failed expedition under the Jerall Mountains, it seemed to her as if nothing was panning out well. From Imperial City to Skingrad and now to Anvil.

There were no more end results save surviving, or so it seemed, and this thought depressed her.

The start of the journey itself was somber, and for the most part Meg kept to herself, her increasingly darkening thoughts causing her habitual smile to linger only for instances rather than most of the time. It was a shame, and sometimes she scolded herself for this change of attitude as well. There was always positive to see in current events, at least that had been her way of thinking since she was a small child. Alas, it seemed the world had changed since then, darkening in both a literal and figurative sense.

Though she didn't realize it at the moment of travelling, the one good thing her quiet and solemn mood had brought about was that she was observing her surroundings even more than usual. The land was so different from Skyrim, the temperature warm and almost stifling at times, and yet so green when compared to the grey and white mountains of her homeland. The closer they got to Anvil, the more Meg could feel her dour mood lift, and though she still felt at a loss, she was beginning to appreciate the fact that even if she was just moving along as if she had no real path to follow, there was still much to appreciate.

It was Daro'Vasora's words to Rhea, however, that caused her to realize what a fool she had been. Disaster had struck and she had been affected... but who hadn't been? The fact that she was in this group with more than a couple of others proved that, the refugee camp proved that... Imperial city proved that. Everyone had lost something when the dwemer attacked. She was no one special to sulk and brood about being lost in life... not when she had a life where many others no longer did.

You're sure stupid, Meg...

And so, the very much alive Nord decided it was time make the best of the situation and take the opportunity of having a close look at what Anvil had to offer. It was a far cry from the refugee camp outside Skingrad, that was for sure. A mean-spirited person may have been envious that people here were enjoying peace and prosperity while others suffered, and the inkling of that thought did scratch at Meg's mind. However, the smell of food that wasn't cooked around a campfire was enough to push those musings to the side.

Before she could eat though, there was something else she needed to do first. In fact, she decided she wouldn't eat at all until she completed her self imposed task.

Who knew sending a letter home could be so daunting?

An hour or so later, feeling much lighter than she had in days, Meg found herself wandering up to a tavern. She wasn't lost, thankfully; having learned the usefulness of maps from Judena, she had made sure to draw out the path she was taking so that she'd at least be able to find her way back to the city gates. It was a rather crude map, the writing on it probably indecipherable by most, but it made sense to her.

"Right," she muttered as she added in the tavern, "time t'eat an' drink... if I can get in!" What in the name of Talos was going on? Both curious as well as pining for a drink, Meg pushed her way through the crowd, ignoring angry mutters that came her way. She only came to a stop when she reached the front of the line, just in time to see someone more than familiar.

Huh... now this ain' surprisin' at all... "How 'bout a fight then?" she called out, eyebrow raised, a hint of a grin dancing on her lips.

The Elder Scrolls: Vengeance of the Deep

@Lemons Best of luck irl!

The Elder Scrolls: Vengeance of the Deep

Posted! :D I'm kinda surprised with Meg's choice :'D