Member
Foster
amorphical
EchoWolff
Crimson Flame
Punished GN
X Fiendfyre X
gatemirage
Red Hood
AlteredTundraFor Old Times
Lemons, and the incomparable Greenie
Nighttime, 17th of Midyear
Alik’r Desert, Hammerfell
There was something a little bit eerie about how quickly Restoration magic and alchemy healed up wounds, reflected Gaius.
Of course, he was grateful for it; if it didn’t work so well, he would be laid up with bloody bandages covering his back. As it was, he was up and walking. Not particularly happily, since it didn’t heal quickly enough to completely axe out the pain, but he didn’t want to remain bedridden from a wound again so soon after recovering from his last. And so, that night found him meandering cautiously about the celebrations, reflecting on what had happened over the past month. He plunked himself down heavily on an upturned, empty barrel with a wince and a sigh, feeling once again for the spot on his back where an ancestral shield had sat for decades. He dropped his head and shook it gently. “No more of that, Gaius,” he murmured to himself, “you’re alive, aren’t you?”
"Oh!" Bottle in one hand and a couple of small spicy meat pies of sorts in the other, Meg had been making her way through the crowd, enjoying each and every spectacle that she came across, though now that she found herself hungry, there was nothing that truly caught her attention in the face of food and drink. With those in hand, the Nord woman was at last ready to fend off the heat and tiredness she felt returning by filling her stomach and allowing herself to get a little buzzed. She had not expected to bump into an old companion she hadn't seen since that fateful day in Imperial City.
Not one to shy away from dust, Meg settled herself on the ground next to the barrel that the older soldier had seated himself on, smiling up on him. "Been a while, eh?" she started, letting out a happy sigh. "T'think we'd finally meet 'gain over here of all places..." She blinked before holding out her pie holding hand. "Wanna bite?"
Gaius gave Meg an appreciative smile and a “thanks,” taking one of the pies and nibbling at the edges, lost somewhat in thought. He let a minute or so pass, then turned to face her, realizing, now that he wasn’t bleeding from a whipping and confronted with an Imperial ambassador, how much...rougher wasn’t the word...how much more resilient Meg seemed than the Nord that he’d first met in the Jerall mountains. He’d had his doubts; perhaps it was overdose of soldiery, but her honest, easygoing exterior had caused him to wonder whether she’d be able to handle herself. That question had been answered quite fully now.
“To be completely honest? I thought you’d all scattered or died in the disastrous Colovian Rangers incident. I didn’t think I’d ever meet you again.” His face wrinkled with lines of sadness that hadn’t been there only two months before. “What a horror show that was. I wish I could slap some sense into whoever organized the sortie against the Dwemer outpost, but I don’t think that’s an option any more.” He heaved out a huge sigh. “But enough of that kind of talk. How have you all been? I saw some new faces.”
"Ahh, I'd never joined 'em," Meg replied after a moment. She leaned back against a wall and she contemplated the bottle in her hand, stretching out her legs though not so much that she would obstruct the path for anyone passing by. "I'd stayed with Judena an' the other in the camp in Skingrad... from there we'd gone t'Anvil." She smiled as she took a gulp from her bottle, settling it down to the side when she was done. "Aye, we have new faces- well, new for you... Raelynn came with us when we left Imperial City. Jaraleet an' Gregor joined us in Skingrad... uhm, then there's Maz an' Maj who we met in Gilane... Sevari, Zaveed an' Sirine are really new..." She blinked some, a little surprised that the latter two were still around. She didn't like being judgemental, but the dark tales she had heard of the one and the conversation she'd had with the other had her unsettled and confused.
"It's been wha', two months? Feels like ages..." She thought of Rhea, Brynja and Rhona, but decided tonight wasn't the time to broach painful subjects. Gaius didn't need to feel more sorrow after a long awaited freedom. "Seems fate's on our side now though. We've foun' Alim, we've foun' you, an' looks like we're finally ahead of the dwemer for once."
Gaius chuckled mirthlessly. “Fate, hmm? I guess, in some way, I came looking for you after Anvil. A…” he paused for a moment, “a friend told me that she’d heard through the merchant grapevine that there was a resistance against the Dwemer in Gilane. I thought if I rustled up enough trained fighters, I could tear Anvil apart. Funny how fate always finds a way to get you back on the track you need to be.”
He shook his head. “It’s a shame Rhea isn’t here to celebrate with us. If there’s anybody on Nirn who didn’t deserve the fate that they were dealt, it’s her.” He went quiet, looking down at the pie in his hands before abruptly changing the subject, standing up with a suppressed yawn and a lame smile on his face. “So, where did you find that drink? I could use some about now.”
Meg's eyes had dropped to the ground at the mention of Rhea's name, remembering how that last rush from Anvil had taken her life. It wasn't so long ago, yet after the events of Gilane, it felt like months... and still the pain remained. She had done all that she could for them, and in the end her life had been viciously stolen from her.
That could not happen to Daro'Vasora. Or anyone else in their group, for that matter.
"Oh, I got m'ways," Meg replied with a small smile, picking up the bottle and holding it up for the Imperial man to take. "Not stolen, don' worry." She had managed to pick it up for free though, the merchant rather enchanted by a tale told of one of her escapades in Skyrim. "It don' taste half bad either."
“Well, as long as we have some drink, shall we think happier thoughts? We’re alive, aren’t we?” Taking the bottle, Gaius examined it for a moment, wondering what kind of drink it was, before shrugging and holding it to the sky. “To being alive!” With that, he took a long pull from the bottle, chugging down the liquor and enjoying the slight burn that came with it. When he was done, he handed the somewhat lighter vessel back to Meg. “So many terrible things have happened within the pasts few months, perhaps we forget that it hasn’t all been bad. Many good things have happened as well. Fate may be on our side now indeed.” He gave Meg a small, tame smile and a nod. “Thank you for reminding me of that, Megana.”
He leaned back, looking at the stars that wheeled in the glass-clear desert sky above him, marveling at how much brighter they looked than in the Imperial City. “If I had a drink of my own, Akatosh,” he muttered, “I’d pour it out in your name.”
Meg looked at the man, a little grin finding itself on her lips. “Well, y’can always pour it in yer mouth,” she suggested a little cheekily, though she did sober a little. “I’m kiddin’... an’ I agree too, best t’think of happier thoughts now.” Her mind wandered and she thought or her previous encounter earlier in the night with Sevari- it had been an unexpected yet enlightening experience, and she was very happy to have made a new friends… perhaps she could round off the night with yet another one.
“So, uhm, b’fore you came with us t’the mountains, where’d ya live?”
“Imperial City, all my life. Talos Plaza district, to be specific.” His face creased with a faraway worry for a bit, before he shook his head, dragging them back to the moment, doing his best to forget the current state of his home. “Somehow, most people that come to the city do so in times of crisis. I suppose that’s the nature of the seat of power. I wish they saw it in peace more than they do.” He leaned forwards, ceasing his reclining, and winced a bit as the remaining injuries in his back stretched. “It’s a beautiful city, it really is. Standing just inside the gate and looking up at the White-Gold Tower is a feeling that’s hard to duplicate, and at night, the Arcane University blazes with a rainbow of lights. It’s like looking at the aurora in Skyrim, only even brighter.”
He turned to her, nostalgic mistiness fading out of his eyes to be replaced with curiosity. “Speaking of Skyrim, what about you? Where were you born and raised?”
“Riverwood,” Meg replied immediately. “Lived there a few years ‘til Pa decided t’move t’Riften. Stayed there a good while ‘til er, he decided he wanted t’live in Whiterun, so we ended up headin’ that way.” Unlike with Sevari, who had found her admission of crime amusing, she was unsure whether Gaius would be of the same mindset. “My Pa, he’s an Imperial like ya, used t’live in Imperial City too, til he was ‘bout my age or maybe a li’l older. A soldier too… yer a soldier, right?” She didn’t wait for an answer, continuing her tale. “He… didn’ really enjoy tha’ kinda life, y’know?” She scratched the back of her neck, thinking she might actually understand why now. “Which was pro’ly a good thin’, else I’d not be around.”
If Gaius was surprised that Meg’s father was an Imperial soldier, he didn’t show it. In fact, he laughed, and not the half-hearted chuckle of before, but a full-throated, throw-your-head-back belly laugh. “Doesn’t sound too unlike my father. He was a soldier and loved it--shows you where I got it, I suppose--but he didn’t much like the fighting. Hated it, actually, even though he was very good at it. He just wanted to help the Empire, and fighting was the best way he had.” He shrugged. “I’ve always been fond of fighting, but I’m nowhere near as good as he was in his prime.”
“Still,” he went on, “I’m glad to know that Whiterun is still holding together. When last I saw it, it was in shambles. Is old man Balgruuf still Jarl?”
She couldn’t help but laugh out loud at hearing the Jarl called ‘old man’, it was funny and unexpected from the Imperial, though reminded her of how her own father would call the leader of Whiterun in the privacy of their home. “Aye, well, last I was there, he sure was- hadn’ been there for months ‘fore I left for Jerall.” She looked at the older man curiously, crossing her legs before turning so that she was facing him completely. “So were you like deployed there, or somethin’ else, jus’ passin’ through?”
“Stationed,” he replied shortly. “Battle of Whiterun. I was one of the legionnaires that defended the city. After the battle, Balgruuf got away from that housecarl of his and ended up drinking in the Bannered Mare nearly every night to show the people of his city that he was still part of them, even after the civil war. We had some interesting conversations over a flagon.”
“So if you hadn’t been in Whiterun before you left for the expedition, where were you? Just wandering, or were you somewhere more pressing?”
“Maybe y’ran into my Pa then,” Meg replied with a small smile. As the days passed on and they kept moving from one location to the other, she found herself thinking more and more of her father and little brother, wondering how they might be. She didn’t hate or even dislike her stepmother, but felt rather indifferent. It was an odd feeling for one who liked to give everyone the benefit of the doubt, but there was still lingering feelings or discontent.
“I left Whiterun, erm… a li’l after my twentieth,” she added after a moment of thought. “I wanted adventure? I was workin’ at farms in Whiterun, sometimes usin’ m’sword t’protect wares… I wanted t’see more though.” She smiled as she looked up at Gaius, wondering if he’d find her itchy feet and wanderlust relatable. “I used t’go after bandits for bounties, t’was dangerous but I managed… but I started treasure huntin’ once I bumped into a friend from Riften.”
A little after her twentieth… Gaius smiled, more to himself than to Meg. He’d forgotten how young many of the people on the ill-fated Jerall expedition had been, many seeming still in their twenties. He laughed at her description of her antsy, wandering feet. “One of the perks of being in the Legion: there’s a lot of all-expenses-paid travel. I wish I could’ve wandered when I was that young, but,” his face pulled into a jokingly-sour expression, “I ended up having to run the family finances for a few years. Not a fun time, I can tell you!”
He leaned back again, settling into a position more comfortable for his back, before continuing with a bit of a non-sequitur. “What kind of people are your family?” After a beat, he realized that the question might have been a tad out of place and went on: “I don’t mean to pry. My parents died when I was fairly young, and so I enjoy hearing people talk about theirs.” Something that might have been a faint blush faded onto his face, and he turned his body--not just the head this time--towards Meg, listening intently with a ‘go on’ expression.
“Oh it ain’ pryin’,” Meg replied with a shake of her head. “I don’ mind talkin’ ‘bout them at all. There’s my Pa, o’course. Ma died when I was just a li’l thing… Pa didn’ get married ‘gain ‘til I was grown up. So there’s his wife, an’ my li’l brother, Sylven.” She rubbed the back of her neck, thinking of Marne and wondering how things would have been if her own mother had still been alive. Would they have remained in Riverwood? If that was the case, would she had ever met J’raij? Would she ever learn the skills that brought her to this place at this time?
“Pa’d say I’m like Ma,” she continued. “I dunno though- she sounded more like someone who rushed into battle. Me, I like stayin’ back ‘less I havta go forward. Guess I got some of m’Pa in me too.”
Another laugh burst from Gaius, and he felt the knot of tension in his stomach that had been there since the Imperial City unravel slightly. He wiped a laughter-laden tear from his eye, then stood shakily from the barrel, still grinning. “Thanks for talking to an old man like me, Meg. You’ve helped more than you know.” He gave her a Legionnaire’s salute, then made to walk off back into the festival.
Now, let’s see about getting some more of that drink.
