Just wanted to say a few things first. This should be a weekly upload, on Sundays, though if people like it, I can make it bi-weekly, on Sundays and Thursdays. Hope you all enjoy!
"Identify yourself, Khajiit! And look at me in the face when I direct you!" A scene of more than fifty people, but only four were of note. Two were Thalmor Agents, one woman, who sat back as her male superior now adressed the defiant Khajiit. Though you couldn't see it, her hair was raven black, with thin feminine eyebrows and piercing green eyes like the shine of peridot. Though she was a soildier, she took great pride in her appearance, and she had applied makeup. An almost silver shade of purple lip gloss, and just a touch of the same color eye shadow. Couldn't be too distracting now, could it? She was after all, a Thalmor, and proud of that fact.
The other Thalmor was her brother. Hazy green eyes, like emeralds, with the same raven black hair, yet thicker eyebrows, and the beginnings of a beard. He drew his sword now, repeating his previous command.
"Khajiit, what is your name? And why are you interrupting Thalmor business? This, dragonborn, or whatever these Nords adress him as, is to accompany us back to the Thalmor Embassy for questioning."
The Khajiit didn't flinch. He was horrid smelling, atleast to Ardael Caeman, the female Thalmor. Light brown in coloration, long, almost oak colored hair, seperate from his fur, with sideburns, adorned with small beads, made of bone. The areas around his eyes were black, and the pattern of his fur gave him a large almost 'W' shape on his forehead. He acted like he heard nothing, and continued to stare forward, right past Baeru Caeman, the other Thalmor.
The Dragonborn, sat behind the Khajiit on the ground, thrown off from the Thalmor's surprise attack. To attack a citizen of Skyrim, inside Solitude at that. The Redguarde was dressed in iron armor, without the helmet. Instead, he wore a hood, to protect his ears from the cold. His name was unknown to most, as most just called him dragonborn. He bore the title proudly, as he was born right here, in Skyrim, in Karthwasten actually. His family moved after the Markarth incident, and he only recently wanted to return when he longed to revisit the mountains of his childhood. To everyone in the crowd, his face was almost unseen. Those that saw his face could see the blood pouring from his temple, and the sweat on his brow.
"Khajiit! Any futher incompetence will be considered insubbordination, and along with the dragonborn, we well arrest you as well."
Finally, the khajiit spoke. With his accent, the words rolled off his tongue almost too smoothly. "Apologies, fair Thalmor Agents. I am Cad Andosha, from Cyrodil. I was sent to Skyrim in order to catalog certain events for posterity. Some have happened, and many are waiting to reveal themselves."
"Then what was the point of interferring with Thalmor business?" Baeru added. Ardael simply watched from the side, her sword in her sheath, but fire dancing in her hands like it was alive.
"This man was honorable enough and kind enough to escort a blind man to Solitude in order for said blind man to rest in the tavern. To dare strike him down, in Skyrim's capitol, would be a grave disaster. Surely, you've heard the whispers of dragons coming back, yes?"
Baeru lowered his weapon slightly, the grungy khajiit catching him off guard. But only for a moment or two. "Where is this blind man, then? Or are you just feeding me a tale in order for the dragonborn to escape?"
That was the first time that everything was quiet. Not even the hawks flew above the city. Everyone's heartbeats slowed, as the Khajiit took a deep breath. He was meditating, calming his nerves. He blinked, just then, and that was the first time that Ardael realized that the Khajiit was the one who was blind.
"Y-you're the blind one? But that doesn't make any sense. Baeru was going to cleave the dragonborn's head from his shoulders if you hadn't come from nowhere and caught the blade between your palms. No blind or even disabled man could do that."
Cad Andosha smiled, his charming feline smile, and turned his head towards her general direction. "I simply knew where the blade would be, and was there when it was. What is so hard to understand about that? And besides, this man whom you seek to arrest has no desire, or even can, get away from this fight. I was not around for the entire fight, but I assume that you used one of the great many paralysis scrolls on your belt loop."
Ardael looked at her waist. She was beginning to frighten. The scrolls were there, but they had no labels on them. The spells were written on the inside, however, they were unreadable and unseeable from the outside. Just who, and what, was this Khajiit?
The fire in Ardael's hands died out, as she lost her focus. She took a step back, the citizens of Solitude keeping her from fleeing, as she wanted to do. What else could this thing see? What did it know?
Baeru gave into his short temper. He struck with his blade, aiming for the demon, as he saw him, directly at his heart.
With a swift series of motions, Cad knocked his wrist into the flat part of the elven blade, adjusting it's trajectory. Almost immediatley after, his right arm extended, grabbing the hilt of the weapon from the surprised weilder, picking the weapon out of Baeru's hand. And finally, he flipped the blade to point it back at Baeru. It was almost supernatural. The fight only lasted less than fourty seconds.
Baeru fell to his knees, ashamed of being bested by a Khajiit. He wanted to murder the damned cat, but knew that he would be bested each time.
"Your rage can become an asset, especially during war. But the great war is over. For single combat, one must remain calm, in order to see his opponent's flaws and exploit them." Cad set the blade down, just above Baeru's head. Baeru and Cad exchanged glances, for what it's worth, and those three few moments will haunt Baeru Caeman for naught.
Ardael awoke from her slumber. She was sweating. It was the anniversary of her brother's suicide. Why had she been remembering this, of all things? The Impossible One, she reffered to Cad Andosha as, was now haunting her dreams.
In her Summerset home, she walked, towards the reflective crystals above the sink in the bathroom. She looked pale, and green at the same time. A very unhealth combination of colors, she thought. She washed her face, trying to calm herself down. She was used to nightmares, especially about her brother's suicide, but this was just a memory. Why did it frighten her so?
There she stood, a young Altmer, given release from the Thalmor due to mental stress and a physical injury that never healed properly. She thought of her scar now, running her left hand down her left thigh where the scar tissue still made itself known. She had almost died once, though she partially wishes she had, wonders if the afterlife would be better.
The moons were still out however, and though she was wide awake, she knew she would need to rest up to visit her brother's memorial tomorrow.