“I used to work in the Anvil Mages Guild as their Restoration trainer,” Abiene replied. “The harbor provided an endless supply of injuries for my students to learn on. Accidents all day and then violence once the sun went down. I often wished I could use all of my magicka on the accidents, but I knew every night I’d be healing the same broken bones and lacerations from the same tavern fights. Leaving burn scars was the worst. There was this one little girl. If only…” Abiene’s words trailed off.

Vera understood the pain Abiene must have gone through. It wasn’t easy seeing a child injured or mutilated or dead. She couldn’t offer no words of comfort, for they would feel flat and hypocritical coming from a woman who had unwittingly killed a young one in one of her transformations. She’d learn to move on from such misfortune.

Abiene took on a softer voice, and started to speak by saying Vera’s name.

The huntress could see by the finger movements, cautious voice, and the expression on the face and the eyes that Abiene was going to broach a subject she initially feared. It was something that must have been bottled inside and she just now mustered the courage to say it.

Vera wanted to know what.

“I work at the chapel now, but I have a reputation for privately helping folks who aren’t welcome there. As you can imagine I see some strange things. I expect you’ve seen even stranger. I wonder if in your experience as a hunter you’ve learned much about, say, lycanthropes. The only thing I’ve read was a vile study of unfortunate captives. I didn’t learn much that would help any future patients. Unlike the author I’m not interested in ways to kill them, but in how to help.”

Vera managed a grin. A lycanthrope would certainly know about their own. It was as if saying a woman didn’t understand about herself. Though she looked young she still had many years on her shoulder, and she’s learned just about everything she had to know about her kind and what she is.

What she found amusing was that someone wanted to know more about her kind for supportive ways rather than murderous.

This is where it got interesting.

“I’m actually wondering the most about women. If there is special care that an expectant mother needs, or if a lycanthrope can even conceive. Does the condition pass to the child from the mother as a trait? What would happen if a transformation occurred during a pregnancy? There’s much I don’t know. I’m not even sure if any other healer has considered these questions. But somewhere, someone must know.”
“Odd question,” Vera remarked. “Chapel priests would sooner find a way to kill a lycanthrope than help her reproduce.”

But this was part of Abiene’s trade. She was dedicated to her work. Vera knew as much. She went her way to help those in need even if they didn’t offer payment in return. Lycus was an example of this. She aided those who deserved it, and perhaps even those who are less deserving.

She’s just like me, Vera reflected. I bring steel and arrows to those who deserve and to those who don’t.

Though one heals, and the other destroys, she had to admit they both were serious about their occupation. Vera leaned forward on the bed. Did she really want to reveal information to Abiene?

She had no reason now to mistrust the woman. She would’ve sensed a lie upon her lips as if she had devoured a bowl of onions or any other odorous food. And right now the only thing she was is fearful. Cautious.

She hasn’t been in the presence of a werewolf like me before.

If it meant aiding one of her own kind, even if they had separate ideals, Vera would still help. She walked over to the table where Abiene was and seated herself down across from the Breton.

“The condition can be passed from parent to child,” Vera said in a hushed whisper. “Typically, lycanthropy can be passed to another as a hereditary condition rather than a bite or a scratch. But that’s a rare occurrence, as there are few families in the world who carry it.”

They’ve either been killed off or the family members died out. As far as she knew she was the only lycanthropic member of her ancient lycanthropic family.

“During the transformation our bones and organs shift to accommodate our swelling heart,” she said in a lowly voice. “An expectant mother may have her internal workings shift to support the fetus within her. At times they survive, at times they don’t. I’ve heard stories of miscarriages before. They're likely to happen.”

She was never pregnant, so she wouldn’t know for sure if her child would die or not. She would though . . . in the future. That was more than certain. Miscarriages in lycanthropes could also result from the woman's lifestyle, too and not so much as the supernatural transformation.

“If the child is born, the condition blossoms later as they grow. It could happen when they are a couple of years before their adolescent age, or it can happen just as they become adolescents.”

Her first transformation happened when she was young. No more than eighteen years of age.

Her eyes stayed focused on Abiene. “If the woman is unable to produce a child, then it may be unrelated to her condition. Lycanthropy heals, though it is with a cost. The only way to heal scarred or torn tissue or even lacerated limbs is to devour the flesh of the innocent.”

“The problem must be something else,” she replied. It could range from different strains of lycanthropy, too. She worked with the Companions before and they weren’t forced to take the form of the wolf during the full moons. Not like she and Lycus were and yet they’ve only passed their condition to others by consuming the blood of the lycanthrope.

She knew there were also different strains for vampirism. Each strain adapted to their own climate or with some daedric pact, them and their descendants were altered. Sunlight sometimes no longer affected them in the manner it affected others. The moons for werewolves sometimes could only encourage them to transform and not force them.

“We vary,” Vera explained. “Werewolves and other lycanthropes, our blood is different, our abilities and willpower are different. As you may have heard from peasants or scholars, we're tied to Hircine, and if by some chance He finds disfavor on us he can prevent our transformations or even going as far as to prevent a child from being born into the world if that is the thing the mother desires the most. It depends. If the mother is truly hopeless she can plead for Hircine to prevent her shifting until she bears the child. I never heard of anything of this sort and I doubt He would allow such a thing unless other factors are included."

She tilted her head to Abiene as her mind conjured more scenarios. “The Glenmoril Wyrd can perform many rituals from a cure to even immortality. Something less trivial as infertility is no head-scratcher for them.” Vera exhaled. “If the woman is wise enough she would know there is always a price for witches. Only death pays for life and a young woman or a male child is acceptable."

Vera shrugged. "And that is what is known. If the mother isn't ready to lose her soul or take the life of an innocent child just so that her own can be born into the world, then it isn't a path for her to take."

The witches are unpredictable.

Vera didn't imagine all mothers would truly take that road. For if their child was born, the mother would look upon her offspring with the life-long reminder that other innocent children had to die in order for the child to live. But desperation often took over.

"There are too many variables", Vera came to the conclusion. "Sometimes blood magic isn't required. There are other ways, less moral-challenging ways, to cure infertility. It depends on the mother's lifestyle and if lycanthropy is indeed to blame, her relationship with her own self."

" My own specialisation is in illusion spells, and if you're any good at them, and have your lute to hand, I suppose I could teach you some tomorrow or the day after, if you're still here." The bard said

"Oh, well I do have quite some illusion skills as well....it's just that I more often use the others"

Gah, I sound like I'm a destruction queen, not good!

"So" Serene continued, "I'd very much like you to teach me your show, I'll probably be around some more days"

"Isn't that right, my love?" She turned to Seth who had returned, smoking his usual hackle-lo

"Can I have some of that stuff?" she asked her husband

She then looked at the breton mage, Darnand was it? He impressed her with his question to the bard

That one is one skilled mage...must leran to know him better

Sethyas gave a slightly annoyed look to Serene. She always asked for the last rolled one, he handed it to her anyways; he was preferring the pipe blend anyways. It was like she knew....

"What Serene means to say is that she is a well-rounded mage. She likely finds herself in...combat situations..much more than you might Miss Salyan, as such her skill in those applicable colleges may be a bit higher in the more practical and passive ones she also studies." Sethyas explained.

"I once studied the College of Illusion myself, though I'm afraid that skill has atrophied to near nil. I find all my needs in regard to magicka can be answered with Alchemy. Though I admit, I couldn't even begin to contemplate a potion that could reproduce your display. At least not one that anyone else could see...." Seth raised an eyebrow considering several ingredients that contained hallucinogenic properties.

"It truly was a fantastic performance as well. I have never seen anything like it; perhaps short of troupes and plays that have production skills far beyond the common ones. Plus...I've seen some terrible plays..." he said trailing off.

Serene exhaled a plume of smoke and gave a raised eyebrow. "You're talking about 'The Lusty Argonian Maid' aren't you?" she began to laugh.

"What Noble in his right mind would have actually financed that confirmed flop?! That's all I'm saying!" Seth exclaimed trying not to revisit the night that couldn't have been improved with copious amounts of alcohol nor forgotten by the same means.

"Speaking of brutal performances, did you see the barfight on your way in?" She asked.

"Yes, Kayla and a couple of her friends decided to get friendly with the local rock-smashers by the look of them. They should be okay." He said taking another toke of his pipe.

"Anyways, before we get too off-topic, what was that style again? And where did you learn it, if I may ask?" Sethyas gestured to Salyan.

Salyan couldn't help but smile at Darnand's answer to her question; the way he launched from contemplative quiet into enthusiastic chatter about magic, and then caught himself as he realised that he was springing into what Salyan guessed would be an entire theoretical discussion, if he had let himself do it. It was quite endearing, really. It probably helped that he was quite looking, too. "Bookishly handsome", a friend of hers had once said of his type of man.

Serene and Sethyas gave some explanation of their own abilities, and Salyan had to concede that she was in the presence of a trio of remarkably powerful mages.

"I'd be happy to teach you some then, Serene," Salyan said. "And, serjo Sethyas, in answer to your question, the style of magic I use, audiomancy, uses sound to help me cast spells. It's a bit more complicated than that, but I won't bore you with an in depth discussion of arcane theory at the moment. I learnt it when I spent some time travelling in the Summerset Isles some years ago; it's obscure even there, though, and I think I may well be one of the only practitioners outside of the Isles."

She was confident she would get away with that little lie; as a bard, she was good at making even far-fetched stories seem plausible, and the Summerset Isles would be the place where obscure magic would come from. The chances of someone in this small group having been there were slim enough for her to not be dragged into a conversation about a place she knew little about. She didn't know these people anywhere near well enough to know if she could trust them with the truth about where she came from; there was no knowing how they might react.

Seth raised his brow in appreciation as he took a swig of his lager that he'd recently come to enjoy.

"Fascinating...yes, now that you mention it that does sound like the Altmer. Always seeking new forms of presentation and culture." He seemed to agree.

"It also reminds me of the book 'Silence', in which an Illusion mage describes sound as a physical entity, something which could be bent and manipulated to achieve other means." He said reading some phantom pages in the air.

"Which is a very creative use of that particular discipline. Refreshing that a mage or School was seeking a new use of magicka without it being meant for some nefarious purpose, or repurposing it for one." He commented, reflecting upon events that had taken but a day prior.

"Then you truly are gifted and hold onto something that few even know exist." he offered. "Now if you could teach her to actually sing..." he was interrupted by an elbow into the ribs.

"Ow! What did I say?" He lamented mockingly to Serene's displeased expression.

Serene

She enjoyed the rolled hackle-lo, but she felt a pang of remorse, it had been Seth's last...but then again he did like his pipe better! So there!

She smiled when Seth interpreted what she had said...he always did that. She used to be somewhat annoyed but during the years she had come to appreciate it instead....he knew better what she meant than she did herself..at least sometimes.

During the conversation between Seth and Salyan she took the opportunity to look at the young bard more closely; she was good looking in a androgynous way which pleased Serene, she had a knack for that kind of women.

Then she heard Seth say: "Now if you could teach her to actually sing...

"Sethyas Velas! I warn you!" she thought and struck her elbow right in his ribs

But she couldn't be cross with Seth for very long, besides she needed a brandy....she very much needed a brandy

She pondered about if she should ask Seth to bring her one but decided it was pushing it too far, he wasn't by all means her servant....

"I'll just go get myself a glass of brandy" she said to the little group. "Can I bring something from the bar to you "

Kayla shook her head. "There's a healer here. Abiene. Gods, my face! I think he broke something in my face!"

Kayla walked inside, unsure if Ylenno or Westley followed. She stopped when she saw Aravi and Darnand. She leaned in and whispered to Darnand, "Hey, sorry to interrupt, but where's Abiene? My face is killing me." She hid as much of the swelling as she could with her hand, ice spell still going.

Abiene

“Odd question,” Vera remarked. “Chapel priests would sooner find a way to kill a lycanthrope than help her reproduce.”

Abiene knew the truth in that. She held the lowest rank at the chapel only for the sake of advancing her learning. She wouldn’t even keep her notes there for fear of having them discovered. While the priests encouraged their flocks to make offerings at the chapel in order to receive their blessings, Abiene believed that Stendarr’s mercy could be found in a mortal’s heart. It was given to her so she could share it.

Vera sat down with her at the table. The candlelight turned Vera’s eyes to liquid gold. Abiene listened carefully to her hushed voice.

She found much to alarm her, but there was also hope.

Performing a blood ritual for a coven of Hircine’s witches was simply out of the question. The existence of such a thing confirmed that it was sometimes needed, and that was concerning. Abiene knew the heartbreak of making the choice for herself. She couldn’t imagine how painful it must be to have it completely taken away from her. But that pain must be endured if necessary, not passed on to another mother.

Abiene expected that consuming the flesh of the innocent would be another unwelcome suggestion.

But there was the option of a pact with Hircine, though the thought gave her an involuntary shiver. A lycanthrope would need some way to prevent transformations or risk the loss of her unborn child.

“There are too many variables,” Vera came to the conclusion. “Sometimes blood magic isn't required. There are other ways, less moral-challenging ways, to cure infertility. It depends on the mother's lifestyle and if lycanthropy is indeed to blame, her relationship with her own self.”

“Variables,” Abiene thought out loud. Then she brought her tone back down to a whisper. “There’s so much that I didn’t know.”

Her heart filled with appreciation. She reached out impulsively to touch Vera’s hand. “You have given me hope, though fulfilling it will not be up to my skills alone. Now I at least know what questions to ask, how to guide someone who needs help. And most importantly now I know what I can’t promise. I am glad to have met you, Vera. With all of my heart, thank you.”

Darnand

It wasn’t difficult to relax and enjoy the banter once he committed to staying with the group. Salyan had a performer’s poise combined with a natural look and friendly manner that put him at ease.

Sethyas teased his wife about their theater-going disasters. Darnand had to chuckle in commiseration. Abiene dragged him to performances at every opportunity when he was in town. Though Darnand was from Chorrol he had seen more plays, dances, and symphonies since she had lived there than he had in his entire youth. The best he could offer on the subject was that at least he didn’t snore when he fell asleep in a chair. He decided not to share that tidbit with the group. Salyan’s performance had been breathtaking, and he would hate to accidentally imply otherwise. For a moment he had almost felt the snow on his neck.

Salyan explained that she had learned audiomancy in the Summerset Isles. He shot her a wry smile when she suggested that an in-depth theoretical discussion might be inappropriate at the moment. An obscure field from a land steeped in magic, he mused. No wonder it was unknown to me.

Kayla walked in from outside as Serene offered drinks from the bar. They must have finished their fight. Kayla held a hand against the side of her face. Mist from a frost spell drifted around her fingers.

She spoke into his ear. “Hey, sorry to interrupt, but where’s Abiene? My face is killing me.”

Darnand answered as he gently moved her hand away so he could see the injury. “She is still upstairs in her—Oh gods! I beg your pardon, it does not look that bad. One hardly notices.” Sweet Mother Mara! “Let us place your palm as you had it before. Shall we seek out Abiene?”

He glanced over to see if Serene would intervene. In his inexpert opinion Kayla was at risk of falling over. He had dragged an unconscious Jerric up more than one set of inn stairs, but he suspected that Kayla possessed more dignity than the Nord. It would be best to see to her head injury immediately.

“Here,” he said, slipping an arm around her back. He kept his voice quiet so as not to embarrass her. “Lean on me if you feel unsteady.”

Aravi looked over when she heard Kayla's voice. There was something she wanted to discuss with her.

Her ears shot up in surprise when she saw Kayla's injury. Darnand seemed to be taking care of her, but she offered anyways, keeping her voice low. "Do you need me to help?"

"I'm okay for now." Seth said holding his half-full tankard.

He hated being waited on, though he knew it was her way to want to help. She came from a place of compassion, whereas he came from a place of fierce independence and self-reliance. The two dispositions did not meet on good terms all the time.

"I told you! I could handle it! Why would I say that unless I meant it?! I don't speak in emotional codes like you do!"

"Don't you dare try to turn this on me! I did nothing wrong but try to help! And now you're angry with me for that?!"

"No, I'm upset because you didn't listen!"

"Fine."

Oh Gods...the 'f' word. I'm in trouble."

His distant memory seemed to bring the old argument a new perspective.

She snuck a peek at him from the bar, he returned it.

I always watch. You always listen. They shared.

Serene's mauve gaze broke with him and looked over at Kayla's entrance. Darnand rose to assist her and had some sort of reaction to her face covered by her hand.

"...Shall we seek out Abiene?” He could faintly hear Darnand state.

Is she hurt? Serene sent, and Sethyas could feel the immediate compassion and empathy behind it. That overwhelming desire that would have her heal the world if she could.

Yes. She took a nasty blow to the face from one of those rock-smashers. Got his pants lit on fire too..it was pretty funny. he returned.

I should help her! She needs me....she sent.

No. He commanded.

....why not?

She chose this. Let her suffer the consequences on her own. It will make her stronger in the long run. This is what: 'Too much of a good thing' means. You cannot heal all the pain in the world. A baker cannot feed all of creation. Nor is either a duty. You help someone too much and you merely weaken them...

...but.

By Mephala, Serene! These people are not our friends! They are associates at best. You don't know them. I certainly do not. They do know one another and know how to help one another better than we could...but...the choice is yours....they're passing you now. He set his tankard down and broke his gaze.

He mused how she was the light to his darkness.

If there was one thing Ylenno hated in brawls, -which was saying a lt, since he absolutely theived in it-, it was those godsdamned grapplers. His fighting style was a combination of fast and blinding strikes, dirty finesse, cheap tactics with some wrestling here and there added for some takedowns or even dirty boxing. Suited for his athletic but thin frame. But against an opponent who is well-versed with the proper techniques and counters of Nordo-Cyrodillic wrestling, and with the body of a bear, Ylenno would be in a disadvantaged situation. He could counter with his speed and low-blows, oh yes, but once he's been held, there's no esaping for him. He just wasn't physically strong enough to get away.

And that is why, he was there, on the hard dirt floor, concussed and dazed, but cursing those godsdamned grapplers with all the fibre of his being. That splex nearly broke his neck, if one could simply scale it on the pain Ylenno experienced. Added with the resurgence of the effects of his earlier injuries, Ylenno simply had to stay on the ground and recover his bearings. But that all changed when Westley with his monstrous strength, effortlessly hoisted Ylenno on his feet. The elf, unprepared from the sudden motion and its accompanying motion sickness, simply fell flat on his face again, muttering in pain. Then he was hoisted up again, and this time, Ylenno gritted his teeth and soldiered on through, following the blurry backs of both Westley and Kayla on-

KAYLA?!

What the hell was she doing here?!

The ehadache thrummed a beat so vile in his head that Ylenno simply couldn't care at the moment. He just went into the tavern and collapsed face-first beneath the feet of Kayla, who was now being attended to by a soapy-looking pencilneck.

"Mmm'phnn. Mmm'mmphh," Ylenno said, mouth on the floor, "Mm'nntt mmrreee mmm'tt mmm."

He tried to pick himself up, but the muscles on his arms suddenly atrophied, and he failed. He simply resorted to roll on his back and laid his bruised eyes on the upside face of a dunmer with a black hand for a face. Or was it a tattoo? Ylenno's vision can't be trusted at this point. He smiled stupidly at his red-eyed counterpart.

"I smell some hackle-lo on you," he said, words slurred. "I prefer the wa-warm ones from Tel Aruhn me'self. Leave the .. leaves to dry up and then..hit, hit, boom."

An arm slithered up, weakly, like a snake slowly ascending, reaching out to that tattoo on that face.

"Mind if.. I have... some? I could use some ... numbing down at this point."

The arm fell, a thud, and the festivity all around them were still ongoing, oblivious to the bloodied Ylenno sliding into unconsciousness.

Oh, for Saint Arkay's Second Burial! Sethyas thought as the rebellious-looking Bosmer he'd seen outside in the brawl collapsed near their table.

He reached down the Bosmer's neck and felt for a pulse. Still alive, and bearing the marks of his fracas outside, the unknown person was an enigma to Seth. A sort of looser grip on life, when compared to his own rigid self-control.

He shook his head and sighed to himself. I'm going to end up helping you anyways it would seem.

He pulled out a small vial of his own custom healing elixir that he always carried regardless of circumstance, and poured a little directly onto the bruising on his face.

Then he poured some into the mouth, not trying to make him swallow it, but rather have it absorbed by the gums.

"Hey." Seth said, lightly tapping the side of the Bosmer's face. "Did you still want some Hackle-Lo? I hope you brought your own pipe."

Aravi heard a thunk behind her. What the…? She looked and saw Kayla’s friend passed out on the floor in rough shape. Sethyas poured some sort of remedy on him and then asked him something about a pipe.

Darnand seemed to be handling Kayla ok, though Aravi wondered if it would be better to find Abiene and bring her down instead of bringing people to her.

Aravi went to Sethyas. “Is he going to be ok?”

She kneeled next to the Bosmer and put her hand on his body, near where his heart would be. She sent a trickle of healing magic into him. It wouldn’t heal everything, but between it and Sethyas' potion, the worst should be taken care of. When he wakes he could find someone better suited to take care of his injuries.

The conversation was interrupted with quite alarming thoroughness by two things; Kyala stumbling semi-conscious nearby them and falling by Darnand, who immediately started tending to her, and a bosmer collapsing by their small group. Salyan blinked in surprise as he fell to the ground, and after a moment he recognised him; the unusually tall one who had known Kayla. And Sethyas as well, it seemed.

He was already being looked over by Aravi, and Salyan knew that she wouldn't be much use; beyond the most basic of healing spells that could soothe a minor bruise or close a small cut, she knew no restoration spells. There was, however, a small crowd of gawkers beginning to gather, so she hopped up with her arms outstretched, waving them back.

"Come on everyone, give the man some room," she said. "Nobody's going to help by staring at him with slack jaws, you know."

Serene

Now she was cross with Seth. He didn't seem to really understand her eager to help everyone...

Then again the darn dunmer was RIGHT! He was always right and that was somewhat annoying...

So whan poor Kayla showed up, in much need of a healer, he told her NOT to intervene!! Now Kayla was assisted by her friends

"Yes they know each other...I don't, I'm a stranger and so is Seth..somewhat"

But when the tall Bosmer fell over just at their table she just couldn't stop herself, she made her way from the bar and arrived at the table just as Seth poured some alchemical potion over and into the poor man.

Serene felt the familiar trickling sensation in her hands, those hands that have healed so many wounds, especially on the dunmer standing beside the fallen man ...then she noticed the Khajiiti woman...Aravi was it..was performing a healing on the fallen bosmer

"She's good" Serene thought while kneeling beside her

" Do you need help, Aravi? He's badly hurt so maybe we need to cooperate here"

Sethyas, what did you give him? he's high as White Gold Tower

Draken’s face was pallid, his skin deathly pale. His hair a brighter shade of black and his nails were longer and almost cracked. His lips were of a different texture from his skin, they were silken and delicate as any other healthy person, only grey.

Irvana wasn’t unnerved. She felt drawn to him and him to her.

“I need to rest,” Draken explained to her after their time together. “It would be safer if I remained here.”

The Imperial woman didn’t nod, but she acknowledged his decision with a long stare. The two came together, their lips met and then she left from the darkness of his chambers.

As Irvana headed out back into the festivity, Draken couldn’t get over how beautiful of a woman she was; a cold, black-haired woman with an unblemished face, free of scars, bruises or any pustule whatsoever. She didn’t require any natural herbs or oils to maintain her looks.

A pity I never gave her a bite.

There was a solution for that, one that would be going to his room anytime now.

Stefania.

Draken remained behind, and retreated into the shadows that were his temporary abode.

He closed the door shut.

There, in the room, Draken stared at his own reflection in the mirror. He gazed into the dead eyes that were only sparked by embers of gold, red and orange. His eyes moved to his skeletal hand and his pale flesh, given the color from time without proper diet.

With the telepath out there, he couldn’t bring himself to go hunting. It was only natural that clueless prey had a habit of venturing into a lion’s den. It was just a matter of time.

The vampire reached out for a silver pitcher, and poured human blood into a silver goblet, and then drank away. The blood, though not fresh from a mortal source, changed his skin quite a bit.

Yet.

Yet he still looked the man who’d just awakened from a grave, or a young lad who'd seen a ghost.

The red nectar from Stefania would certainly change that.

Soon.

First he must concern himself with his well-being, and then all the other problems that had piled up in the recent hours.

Kayla, first and foremost. That infernal blade of hers was the bane of the undead and he would not find peace as long as she’s rotting in the dirt and that blade is sent back to the pits of oblivion were it belongs.

The mystery telepath Irvana warned him about; a dangerous one. He or she could be anywhere, still invading the minds of others for whatever reason. If Kayla was to somehow appear dead or missing and if they were even acquainted . . .

He could leave before he was discovered.

No, that wouldn’t do. Last thing he needed was rumors circulating in the Black Horse courier or in the political stations that he was a vampire. That would simply not do.

This wasn't the first time he had risked public exposure.

The history behind him was vast and daunting and in the eye of that storm of plots and schemes he could hear the faraway voices of all those who had laid the groundwork of the Order Vampyrum— And those who risked to destroy all it stood for as well.

Though with the guidance of his relative, he was able to save himself and his people from certain doom.

Draken interlocked his fingers and pondered. Raven would know what to do . . .

Vera.

“You have given me hope, though fulfilling it will not be up to my skills alone. Now I at least know what questions to ask, how to guide someone who needs help. And most importantly now I know what I can’t promise. I am glad to have met you, Vera. With all of my heart, thank you.”

Vera, after a few passing seconds, gently pulled her hand away. She was the last person one would go to for hope . . . well, excluding her grandfather who had dropped the entire survival of her family and generations of history and legacy upon her shoulders. Ever since then it was only Lycus who had ever placed his trust on her, and he's all that she needed. A human's concern rarely had an effect on her.

Even if fifty people were to thank her from the bottom of their heart, it wouldn't change what she had done to just get by in the world. What she had to do to make sure she would last another single day in this world. Countless people dead by claw and fang, others by axe, sword or arrows and bolts and even her bare hands and snares for money. If she saved a woman and by some chance be the one who helped bring the child into the world, it wouldn't compensate for the lives of the young ones she's taken away under bestial hunger.

She wanted to feel something, anything, for aiding Abiene but in the end she only felt . . . hollow. Even if by chance Abiene was a woman who could not reproduce and by chance used the lycanthrope guise to cover her own issues or if she really had known one who suffered from infertility, there was nothing she could do to express any joy.

"I've done what I can," Vera replied to Abiene. Face neutral. "You're gratitude is wasted on me."

There was a slight knock on the door, and Vera could smell food from far off.

That must be Hethilion.

Darnand

The giant Bosmer staggered in and collapsed at Kayla’s feet. The rest of the group tended to him while Salyan provided crowd control.

“Up or down?” Darnand asked Kayla. “I would suggest that either Serene or Abiene look at your injury. I have seen the results of Jerric’s brawling often enough. When he displaces someone’s cheekbone like that it often produces a fracture in the floor of the eye socket. Were you by any chance punched by a Nord?”

It took Kayla a moment to realize Darnand was talking to her. Her face throbbed, her neck throbbed, gods, even her hair hurt! Darnand spoke in a matter-of-fact voice, not unkind, but very detached. In control. She realized that she liked that about him. In the short time she'd known him, he was concerned for her well-being, even though he had no personal interest in her.

She tried to smile at him, which sent a shot of pain through her head. She held back a wince and sighed.

"I don't know what happened. The last thing I remember was...buying chitin armor from Thals, feeling ill, then waking up from Westley nearly dunking my head underwater. Wait, Up or down? Why would we go down?"

“Do you need help, Aravi? He's badly hurt so maybe we need to cooperate here.”

Aravi looked up. It was Serene that offered. “I can use some help yes. I am not a healer.”

“I can use some help yes. I am not a healer.”

Serene gave her requisite angry look to Sethyas over the collapsed form of the tall Bosmer, and summoned forth her powerful grasp in the College of Restoration.

It didn't matter to her what the cause or even who the person was. She'd have healed a person worthy of death if she was in the position.

The blue and yellow energies of Restoration flowed forth, illuminating and surrounding her, moving the air slightly, and she directed it down to the Bosmer

____________________________________________________________

Sethyas watched the display and glanced over at Darnand and Kayla. She seemed in pretty bad shape.

"I know for a fact Abiene's a good healer. So is Serene, and she's here now if you need her. She won't refuse help if asked. Ancient code and all that." He explained to them.

Abiene

As Vera slid her hand away she also seemed to draw back into herself.

“I've done what I can,” she said. Her voice was emotionless. “Your gratitude is wasted on me.”

Abiene had sometimes felt that way when someone overwhelmed her after a healing. Don’t thank me for doing my job, she sometimes wanted to say. It’s not about you personally, it’s just what I do.

Some women would want an elaborate dance of insistence and refusals to follow such a declaration. Abiene believed that Vera was not among them. She took the woman’s words to mean what they said.

Abiene returned Vera’s neutral gaze with a soft smile of her own. But you have my gratitude just the same.

A knock on the door was swiftly followed by the meal they had ordered. Abiene resisted the urge to tear into it like a wild animal. She tended to forget she was hungry until nearly faint with it. Today was no exception.

Darnand

“I know for a fact Abiene's a good healer. So is Serene, and she's here now if you need her. She won't refuse help if asked. Ancient code and all that,” Sethyas explained.

Darnand gave Sethyas a curious glance. He wondered what had transpired between Abiene and the Dunmer. Someone had been hurt it seemed, but there had to be more. There was much in her eyes that she had not explained.

Kayla’s confusion was not a good sign. Darnand eased her into a chair. “I propose that we amend our plan,” he said to her. “If you will permit I will mitigate your discomfort while we await the attentions of Madame Velas.”

He cupped her uninjured cheek in his hand, sending healing light to close broken blood vessels and ease the swelling.

The cheekbone was more than he should attempt with his limited skill. Perhaps now that the swelling is gone I could move it into place using telekinesis. If I was gentle…

Darnand took his hand away before temptation got the best of him. It was wrong to experiment on one’s friends. Even just a little.

He glanced up at Salyan, nodding to indicate the fallen brawlers. “They might have been part of your illusion,” he said. “For a moment I thought I must be back in Skyrim.”

Kayla sighed in relief as the pain in her face eased a bit. Out of reflex, she leaned her head into Darnand's hand and looked up at him with grateful eyes.

"Thank you." She said softly. "Do whatever you think is best. I'm tired."

She knew that sleepiness generally wasn't a good sign after taking a punch like she had, but gods, she was so damned tired. She inhaled deeply and closed her eyes and let it out slowly, leaning more on Darnand's hand.

Ylenno could feel the hurt all over him being awashed away by an aetherial wave of.... something. It was beyond mortal comprehension to grasp the immense empathy, the pure-hearted intent to heal Ylenno felt now... It was like experiencing the warmth of a mother's love for the first time.

So divine.

So otherwordly.

So... mushy.

Ylenno disentangled himself from the tendrils of unconsiousness, and found that he was being tended to by two women. One was Aravi, the earlier Khajiit, and the other... Ylenno squinted through the candelight of the tavern and focused on her eyes. She was an Imperial, no doubt about it, but those eyes were... something else.

Ylenno gently detached himself from the healers and stood up.

He didn't know who the main healer was between the two of them, but even Ylenno, a punk who knows nothing of magick, had to admit that the kind of healing he received just now was in a league of its own.

He dusted himself off with the flourish of a rogue and smiled widely at them. Even at the black-handed face of the dunmer who he distinctly remembered trrying to knock off for some Hackle-Lo.

"Normally I'd snark and quip some whips at you for healing me, but I'll just settle with a heartfelt thanks!"

He nodded to Aravi, stretched an offended arm and offered it to the Imperial woman.

"I'm afraid I haven't catched your name, miss. I'm Ylenno Sasalonia, rogue-thug supreme, and you are...?"

Serene

Serene smiled, her healing of the big Bosmer was successful. The man slowly rose to his feet, stood there trying to focus for a bit, then with a big grin he stretched out his hand to her;

"I'm afraid I haven't catched your name, miss. I'm Ylenno Sasalonia, rogue-thug supreme, and you are...?"

"Serene Catraso-Velas at your service, serjo Sasalonia"

"Married to that dunmer over there, Sethyas Velas, but now then how do you feel? Any dizziness? nausea? Can you walk a straight line?"

She noticed Seth's look, and knew what he was thinking. He always thought she interfered too much, that she would heal the worst assassin in the world if she was in the position to do so

"But I can also kill just about anyone who threatens my beloved ones or my friends"

Then she heard Kayla, Kayla was also hurt but Serene had thought she had been taken care of. Now that man Darnand was tending to her that she could see, but nevertheless the girl was still in pain and sounded disoriented.

That's not good at all, she might have a concussion besides the other injuries, so she has to be put somewhere where she can have some peace

Serene saw that the Bosmer, Ylenno, was as good as ok so she decided to try to help Kayla, also she wished for Aravi to accompany her.

"Would you join me here, Aravi? she asked

Kayla looked terrible still even if some healing had been performed, her cheekbone was dislocated and there was swelling almost all over her face.

"Aravi, could you please lend me your hand? I need a bit more energy to ease the swelling in her brain, and also put her to sleep so we can fix her cheekbone"

Two pair of hands, khajiiti and imperial, surrounded Kayla's head, a mist of bluish energy swirled around them...

"Kayla, stay calm, you will now fall asleep, you are fine you can't feel the pain anymore" Serene intoned in a low voice

It worked, the altmer woman closed her eyes and dosed away...as intended

The cheekbone was broken and dislocated. To gently put it in place was not very complicated as Kayla was fast asleep....Then mending the actual bone tissue was done by normal healing-by-touch.

She just sat there after the healing, totally exhausted....

“You are welcome,” Aravi replied to Ylenno. Though compared to Serene’s powerful healing magic, she hardly did anything. He seemed to recognize that, and focused his thanks on Serene. She stood up and stepped back as Serene spoke with him. She straightened her green gown.

She was surprised when Serene asked her to join her in tending Kayla. She went with Serene and did as the experienced healer instructed. Her simple healing spell seemed to be effective with the guidance of the Imperial woman.

Just as her magicka was spent, Serene seemed satisfied with Kayla’s condition. Aravi stood up and straightened her gown yet again. She offered a hand to the other woman and hauled her to her feet. Though Aravi was physically smaller than Serene, she had no problem pulling the other woman to her feet.

“Come and sit down. You look tired,” Aravi said and guided Serene to an empty seat. They were back at the bar, next to Salyan. There was no seat for Aravi, so she simply stood. She asked the bartender to bring them both some water.

While Serene drank, Aravi asked Salyan about her magic again. “I live in Skyrim, and the images you showed were very vivid. I recognized some of the land features you showed. I’m going there in a couple of days, and I’m really looking forward to it after your show.”

Salyan had to say, by the standards she was used to, the brawl she had just witnessed was hardly impressive. Usually, brawls on the Isles weren't considered to have properly got underway until at least one person had been killed, but aside from some broken noses and nasty bruises this one had stopped before anyone had even warmed up. It was almost disappointing, really.

The onlookers all but dispersed themselves when they realised nothing more exciting than a healing was going to occur and Salyan returned to her seat, unofficial duties as bouncer now complete. Aravi and Serene joined her a few moments later, the khajiit helping Serene down and asking for water for the pair of them.

“I live in Skyrim, and the images you showed were very vivid. I recognized some of the land features you showed. I’m going there in a couple of days, and I’m really looking forward to it after your show.”

"Oh yes, there was expedition you mentioned, wasn't there?" Salyan said. "I hope to visit one day myself; Norse poems and songs are some of my favourites, and I've heard it's an amazing place to see anyway."

She stood and pushed her stool towards Aravi.

"Here, have this," she said. "You've just done all that hard work looking after that bosmer, you probably need a seat more than I do."

Darnand stood back and watched Serene and Aravi work. He offered a hand to Kayla when she woke. Serene looked exhausted, so he assumed that she had completely healed Kayla’s injuries.

Seats were exchanged and positions shuffled. Darnand found himself standing at the edge of the group again. He angled his shoulders in an attempt to separate them from the drunken rabble at his back.

Darnand spoke to Kayla in a low voice, catching her up in case she missed a few remarks while she awakened.

“We are discussing Skyrim in the context of Salyan’s interests and our upcoming expedition,” he murmured.

He glanced around in search of an empty barstool for the bard.

Abiene

The meal passed mostly in silence, comfortable for Abiene if not exactly companionable. Vera seemed vigilant even while she was still. Abiene remembered the animal strength that had coursed through the unconscious Lycus. She imagined that a werewolf might have difficulty finding repose.

Abiene placed the remains of her meal back on the tray. “If I have your leave, I should like to return to my chamber,” she said. “I have some things to attend to there. I won’t go back down to the tavern unless my friends report that the danger seems to have passed.”

Vera didn’t talk much, but her restless eyes missed nothing. Rather than the usual farewell chatter Abiene simply stood before the taller woman for a moment, letting her eyes and posture speak. She felt gratitude that she wanted to express in friendship, even if it was rejected. Bonds between people could be viewed as welcome connections or restrictive ties. She would not impose upon Vera and Lycus, but she was available if ever they needed her.

She wondered how much of her heart was conveyed in her look. Abiene picked up the tray, giving Vera a parting smile at the door.

Hethilion was almost at the top of the stairs when she stepped into the corridor.

“I beg your pardon,” Abiene called to him.

To his credit he hardly rolled his eyes as he turned back toward her.

“Thank you,” said Abiene. She handed him the tray. “If you have a moment to return to my chamber, I need your assistance. Or of course you can send someone else. I’ll be ready in half an hour.”

Back in her room Abiene divided the day’s purchases into parcels. Then she sat down at the desk to write.

The first note was for Sethyas. At the market stalls she had gathered a small supply of alchemy ingredients from Thals and Martine, plus a few rolled hackle-lo in a lightweight, waxed wooden travel box. Rather than barge in on him and Serene in their bedchamber she had decided to leave the package for him with the inn’s staff. Though she feared her note sounded terse to the point of rudeness, she could not think of a way to allude to the things she had agreed that she wouldn’t know. In the end she simply addressed the note to ‘Master Velas, Alchemist’ in a neutral tone and trusted that he would read between the lines.

Sethyas,

Please accept the enclosed items to replenish your supplies. It is only the smallest of gestures and cannot possibly reflect my full appreciation. I hope you will allow me to make it.

Abiene

She sat for a moment letting her thoughts drift through the events that had brought her to the Goblet. As you said, my friend. The rest is in silence.

The second note was for Maxical and Eyja. She addressed it along with the package to the care of the Arcane University. She knew that it would find its way to them. Since they were known as her friends she saw no risk in using a warmer tone.

My dear friends,

I was saddened to find you had departed the inn, but I made a silent toast to each of you in your absence. Truly, you did not miss anything by skipping the free beer.

I found an artist at the festival and could not resist having him paint your portrait. As you can imagine you made quite an impression even as you slipped away. He vividly recalled seeing the white Khajiit, and of course Eyja I need not relate how he described your beauty.

I hope you will enjoy having this image of the two of you together. Your friendship and care of one another warms my heart even in memory.

May you walk in safety and light, my friends.

Abiene

Hethilion returned and took the parcels, promising to see them delivered to Seth and to the Imperial Mail. Abiene tipped him in her usual reckless manner, failing to plan ahead for her next financial crisis until he had gone.

She eyed the newly filled bath. Darnand would eventually return. He might even sleep in her chamber. He hadn’t yet laid a hand on her, but she wanted to be fresh between the sheets just the same.

A moment later she had adjusted the folding screen for modesty and hopped into the tub. Abiene lay back so that her head rested on the high edge and slipped her hands under the water. A soft sigh rose into the air along with the fragrant steam.

Kayla nodded at Darnand's brief summary of the conversation.

"Thank you." She whispered back and gave him a small smile. She listened momentarily while he searched for a stool.

"What happened?" She asked in a low voice. "Did I pass out or get into a fight or something?"

I don't think I drank very much.

Darnand’s brows lifted at Kayla’s words. She did not seem to remember the brawl.

“Your friend,” he nodded at Ylenno, “got into an altercation that rapidly moved outdoors. You exited the inn and were injured.” He indicated where on his own face. “Upon your return you sought healing. Serene and Aravi came to your aid right here. They also healed Ylenno.”

He gazed into Kayla’s eyes, looking for evidence of disorientation or further injury. “Are you quite recovered?” he asked. “If you would like to return to your chamber I will render my assistance. However I do not wish to suggest that is necessary. It is not uncommon to lose time after a head injury. That is to say, if you are feeling well now I see no reason not to proceed with your evening as you had planned.”

Darnand gave her a wry smile. “You have a Nord’s spirit and an Altmer’s bone structure. A striking combination, but one that lends itself to concussion.”

Kayla let out a loud, tinkling laugh, much more girlish than she had thought she was capable of.

"Striking combination, hmm?" She said in a low voice. She fluttered her lashes playfully. "Darnand, if I didn't know better, I'd say you thought I was attractive. And you're offering to help me to my room? I've heard that one before."

She covered her mouth and laughed again, this time much quieter. "I'm teasing." She said, putting her hand on his shoulder. she gave t a gentle squeeze. "I'd love some help upstairs. In case I got the sense knocked out of me and I forget where my room is."

“Thank you,” Aravi said to Salyan, when the other woman offered her seat. Aravi gratefully sat down next to Serene. “How are you feeling Serene? Do you need another drink or some food perhaps?”

Salyan expressed interest in seeing Skyrim. Aravi surprised herself with what she said next, she barely knew this other person. “We are just going for a quick raid in a cavern. If you can defend yourself, you can come with us if you wish. Darnand, Kayla,” She gestured to the where Darnand and Kayla were, “and Vera are all going. You haven’t met Vera yet I don’t think.”

A thought struck her. “Do you know a soul trap spell?”

Serene

She gladly accepted the chair and the water that suddenly appeared in fron of her..

Gah...am I that rusty? Healing is really taking its toll out of me...must practise more


“How are you feeling Serene? Do you need another drink or some food perhaps?” Aravi asked her

Serene smiled at the khajiiti woman and gently stroke her hand

"Ah well yes...maybe some fruit and a mug of Nord Mead, it's mt blood sugar..it gets low when I do these things"

"Now thank you, Aravi for your help, I really couldn't have done it without you!" Serene knew for sure that the presence and support of that khajiit was doing the trick, she was really awesome!

'Aravi, you are a remarkable woman..I'm so glad to have you as friend...ehh that's what we are, right?...Friends?"

"Seth..so where are you when I need you? Thank the Nines for this khajiiti woman..who was here when I needed her"

Darnand smiled at Kayla’s teasing. He glanced at his feet while his cheeks flushed like a lad’s.

When Aravi spoke he looked over at Salyan to see how she’d react to the invitation to join them in the Skyrim expedition. Darnand briefly wondered if she had any Nord ancestors, with her fair hair and sturdy shoulders.

He waited for an opening in the talk so as not to interrupt.

“I wish you a good evening,” he said to Sethyas and Serene. “It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” He turned to Aravi and Salyan. “I shall escort Kayla to her chamber and then retire to make my preparations. You may find me in Abiene’s room if something should occur in the night. Otherwise I shall see you on the morrow.”

Then he held out his arm to Kayla, bent at the elbow for her to grasp. Belatedly he realized that she was probably strong enough to toss him over her shoulder and haul him up the stairs, but a custom was a custom. Besides, she may still feel unsteady.

Kayla briefly looked at Darnand's elbow, confused. At first, she thought that maybe he had meant to elbow her, but that notion was quickly banished when he held his elbow out longer than that would take. She then realized that she had seen gentlemen walk through the streets with their woman on their arms, their elbows held out this way. The women had their hands slipped into the crook of the man's elbows, and allowed themselves to be led around.

Kayla wasn't particularly fond of being led around, but she allowed herself to be, purely for the sake of being polite. She wondered at the lives of rich women, what it must be like to be led around all day by men. She didn't find the women of Cyrodiil particularly thick-skinned, but rather soft. The women from other provinces seemed to have a handle on their fates, whereas the women of Cyrodiil, or rather, most of them, seemed to be content with being led around.

She slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow and gently held it, giving him a tight smile as she looked down at him. She had never known Darnand to be condescending, but his bookish attitude and focused look suggested that he was no idiot or dabbler of magicks. It wasn't a past time for him, nor a hobby.

She realized that she was slightly attracted to him, but knew that it would never evolve beyond a crush. Men like him didn't give women like her the time of day, and perhaps that was for the best. Relationships like that did not last long, the smart men usually looking down on the woman, if they hadn't before, for not being as intelligent, and the woman seeing the man as weak for being unable to defend themselves without magick.

She let out a soft sigh as they walked up the stairs. She let herself lean on him, his robes brushing softly against her leg. When they reach what she believed was her door, she let go of her arm and fumbled her key.

"Thank you," she said as she went to unlock her door, but found it was unlocked. That's right, Laegon doesn't have a key. She gave him a shy smile.

"You're a sweet man, making sure I was alright, then escorting me up here." She gave him another shy smile before planting a chaste kiss on his cheek, lingering for a moment, before pulling away. She patted his shoulder and slipped inside her door and closed it softly.

Darnand stood for a moment outside Kayla’s closed door. His cheek felt warm from her soft kiss.

An idea began to dawn. Was she… flirting with me? He had been flustered over possibly offending her with his Cyrodiil-style gesture. It hadn’t occurred that he might have been awkward in another way as well. He considered high elf women and warrior women to be equally unobtainable. A high elf warrior woman was twice as far out of his reach. Especially one as vibrant and beautiful as Kayla.

Nothing to be done now, he thought. I shall have ample opportunity to embarrass myself further on the way to Skyrim.

He let himself into Abiene’s chamber. The room was dimly lit by two candles, one by the bed and another on a side table. It took him a moment to realize that Abiene was already asleep.

He slipped off his shoes and drifted over to the bed.

She lay on her side with one hand folded under her chin and the other tucked between her knees. Her mouth was open slightly. He could hear her breath whistle softly as she exhaled. Dark curls tangled over the pillow, leaving her slender neck bare in the candlelight. The top of her modest bedgown had slipped down in the back. He could see the delicate hollow between her shoulder blades.

It was not uncommon in rented shelter to share a bed without “sharing a bed,” as the expression went. Darnand washed up and changed into a nightshirt. A gentleman should not presume.

She had folded the covers back on the empty side. It looked as if she had fluffed the pillow for him.

Darnand sighed. He unpacked his bedroll and laid it out on the floor.

Aravi waved to the bartender again and made the necessary orders: mead and a small bowl of fruit. She ordered a hot cup of tea for herself.

“I hope you like strawberries,” she told the other woman. “And I hope you don’t mind Salyan and I taking a few of them either.”

Serene idly touched Aravi’s hands, running her fingers over her fur. Aravi thought this was a little strange but let it go. I am getting tired.

Serene thanked her for her help healing. “You’re welcome,” Aravi said. “I really didn’t do much though. Your ability is so much greater than my own. I learned what I know to help in skirmishes and battles, but it’s very basic.”

Serene complimented her and asked if they were friends.

Aravi felt her cheeks heat a little at the compliment. “Thank you, I would like to count you as a friend. And I must thank you for helping Kayla and Ylenno.”

"A cavern raid?" Salyan asked in response to Aravi's answer to what she and the others were doing in Skyrim. "Sounds exciting. Dangerous. I'd like to come, though, and I can look after myself; I can silence mages, disrupt groups of enemies and bolster other people's strength and resolve. I'm afraid I don't know a soul-trap spell, though."

Serene arrived, and as Aravi ordered some food and drink, Salyan added; "Make that two cups of tea, please."

She turned to Serene.

"I must say," she said. "I was very impressed by your work healing Kayla; you clearly know your craft very well indeed."

Serene

Strawberries! Ahhh how could she know I love them?

"Thank you Aravi!" Serene smiled, but when she touched the Khajiiti woman's arm just to show kindness but also to feel the soft fur, she noticed the Khajiit was not all in all comfortable with that.

Hmm did I offend her maybe? That was not intended

She enjoyed the fortifications and was happy Aravi wanted to be her friend, friends are good....especially in these days.

Salyan, the bard was also sitting with them, having a cup of tea, Serene felt good in the company of those two, and she was flattered by their comments on her healing...

Gah they should have seen me in the old days, when I really was the Master of Healing

There was some discussions of a cavern raid, but Serene decided not to join, she had to focus on Rianne and where on Nirn the girl was hiding, or whatever she was

Serene did NOT allow herself to think of any other possibilities of what may have happened to the girl

"Sethyas, we need to do something, could you please think of a plan or something?"

She closed her eyes....

Aravi nodded to Salyan. “You may come then. Normally I would ask to see what you can do, but I think your show did that.” Too bad she doesn’t know a soul trap spell. That would have been nice. I might have to buy an enchanted weapon.

Serene touched Aravi’s arm and thanked her for the food and drink when it arrived. Aravi wasn’t used to it, but she knew some people just used touch to express themselves more than others. She didn’t want the other woman to think she was unfriendly, but she couldn’t entirely hide her feelings.

Aravi took one of the larger strawberries and bit into the end. They were coated lightly with sugar to give them an extra sweet taste. She looked over at Serene and saw her eyes distant and unfocused, before slowly sliding shut.

“What are you thinking of?” Aravi asked.

Sonita
The carriage rattled on the dusty dirt road. It was evening, and the late summer chill had set in. She wrapped her cloak around her, and Encel and Jekan did likewise. She smiled under her hood. Those two were inseparable. She saw the lights of a tavern not far from the road, and called to the carriage driver. "Let us off here." The man stopped the carriage and the travelers climbed down from the rough wooden seats. Jekan and Encel began carrying a trunk full of books toward the lights as Sonita took her small bag from the side of the seats. Khan had hopefully brought most of her things, and if not, Palonirya's outlet in Chorrol was always an option. Her husband could pay for his idiocy in gold. She turned to pay the driver. "Thanks, Bjorlam. Get some rest back in Whiterun. You deserve it." She walked to the inn, seeing as she past it was known as "The Wobbly Goblet". Encel was sure to love that. He liked any quirky wordplay he could find.

She opened the door and stepped inside, shaking the water of a morning's light rain off her cloak, and removing her hood. She smiled as she spoke. "Has anyone seen my husband? Big grey Khajiit, name of Khan?"

The healings were taking more and more from her. He wasn't certain to it's precise cause, but Sethyas suspected what it was. There was a fine line between magicka and vitality. He knew enough about Aetherius and the nature of et'Ada beings that in fact, everything essentially was magicka.

Creatia. Baladas Demnevanni; an ancient Telvanni wizard, had called it.

The plant draws life from Magnus the Sun. It bears fruit. The prey eats it. The predator eats the prey. The predator dies and is drawn into the soil from which it came. The Cycle of Arkay.

This is magic, as you know it; as you practice it.

You do not create something from nothing. This is not known to be possible in the Aurbis, and if it is, I'm not sure it should be done.

You cast flame or life from your fingertips. The deluded think themselves gods for this. The wise know that they are.

What is the source of the flame or healing?

The same.

Creatia, called magicka.

The same source from which we are and all we can perceive is made from.

She was literally giving herself into these healing sessions. Imperials did not live two hundred years. Even Tiber Septim, crowned Talos in death, lived to a hundred and eight. Her empathy and compassion became stronger with age and with habit. What should have made her a master of the art, was making her a victim.

Who was he to ask her to stop? His wife, the mother of his child. Her openness and his restraint constantly in struggle. But, that life he had asked her to share with him, was not his to command, and hers to give if she wished.

Dammit, Serene. Stop this. He pleaded internally. Or a missing daughter may find herself without a mother before this is over.

"Thank you kindly," Salyan said, in response to Aravi's invitation. "I might even be able to get a song or two out of this expedition, if things get exciting."

She was looking forward to it; she hadn't been dungeon-diving for a few years, not since she had spent time travelling across the Isles with her old friend Almeria. She doubted that any in the party were the same whirling dervish of destruction and bloodshed that the Feaster was, but she had few worries; Aravi looked tougher than a Elytra's carapace, Darnand clearly knew what he was doing and Kayla was probably good in a fight when she was a bit more sober and wasn't brawling. Hopefully.

She noticed Serene had a look on her face and her eyes were closed, her expression one of concentration and...concern?

"Is everything alright?" Salyan asked.

Serene

“What are you thinking of?” Aravi asked., also the bard seemed concerned about her and asked if she was OK

Serene opened her eyes with a faint smile..

"Oh I'm OK" she said, "Just tried to "summon" my husband. I do have need for him right now, he knows how to care for me after an extensive healing"

"Also I love him and therefore need him right now"


"So you're off on some kind of mission?" Serene asked "Then I wish you luck, Seth and I can't join, we need to come up with a plan how to find Rianne"

"Dammit, Serene. Stop this. Or a missing daughter may find herself without a mother before this is over."

She heard him clearly in her mind, he couldn't be far away...

"I'm Ok love, just get your stubborn arse here so we can plan!"

Sethyas Velas got drunk. He went outside, fell off a cliff and died.

The End.

Aravi nodded to Salyan. “I hope it is dull, but we have plenty of help if it is otherwise.”

She smiled at Serene’s response. “I wish I could summon my husband. Who is Rianne?”

Sethyas, placed his hands on Serene’s shoulders and spoke to her. She learned that they were missing a daughter. She felt stunned. They suggested that Rianne might have just wandered off, but then if they truly thought that, they wouldn’t be here. I don’t even know what to say. What would I do in a situation like that?

“I hope you find her quickly and unharmed. I would be glad to help you find her, but I already have another expedition planned.”

Aravi finished the last of her tea and stood. “I am tired. Perhaps I will see you both in the morning before you leave.” She directed her last statement to the bard. “Good night Salyan.”

She got up and was walking past the door when another Khajiit walked inside. She asked anyone that would hear where her husband was. Aravi stopped and listened.

“I saw him earlier today; he was gathering a group of warriors for something. I do not know where he is now.”

Sonita sighed and rolled her eyes. "Of course he did. Just my luck, getting here while he's on a cross-country warpath. Oh, well." Seeing the other Khajiit woman was at a table with several others, she decided to leave introductions for later.

She walked to the bar, squeezing between and shoving aside the many patrons. There had to be some reason they were here...oh, of course: Harvest's End. The inns in Skyrim didn't make too much of a big deal, offering you a free mug of watered down beer, no refills. In Cyrodiil, however, it seemed to be cause for quite a lot of celebration. Khan had better have bought her something, as she was not to be outdone by the tavern wench with a bouquet of silk flowers and what appeared to be from the wrinkles in her dress, a profusely pinched rear end. She shook herself out of her train of thought. The barman was looking at her expectantly. "A bottle of Arenthia Red, please, and three glasses." The Breton handed her a worn green glass bottle, it's label proudly declaring "AGED IN SILVERWOOD BARRELS".

She took it in her hands, shoving the glasses into the crook of her elbow. She called across the crowded hall, motioning to the bottle in case she was not heard. "Jekan, Encel! Let's get unpacked!" She looked at a young Dunmer leaning on the wall, chatting with a Bosmer who looked to be about the same age. "Excuse me. What room is Khan in?" The Dark Elf shot a look to the Wood Elf that said "I gotta go, don't blame me." He turned quickly to Sonita, clapping his hands together. "Well Ma'am, Tribune Khan is currently in the third room of the East Wing, and I would be happy to take that pack for you." She slid it awkwardly off her shoulder, careful not to drop the booze. She followed the lad, and dropped the wine and glasses on the table next to the bed. She poured one for herself, and sat there, waiting for her friends to make it off the stairs with their precious cargo. It was going to be a lovely vacation, she thought, eyeing the grounds of the manor from the window.