"Nothing ever changes in the City of Stone." Nothing ever changes and nothing ever should be changed to begin with. People lived by this rule. They went on with their daily lives giving little to no thought to anything beyond the city walls – all except for the rare occasion that something from the outside came inside. Just having a single, lone traveler walk through the city gates with nonchalant footsteps would have been enough to birth whispers, but to think that the same stranger killed a Forsworn spy right upon entering...
It was unheard of.
By midday Cosnach had heard every conceivable rumor there was to hear considering the identity of the stranger. Everything from a simple mercenary to a runaway prisoner in hiding. What seemed to intrigue people the most was the cowl they didn't seem to be willing to pull down. Maybe their face was covered with very visible battle scars or perhaps they were secretly a vampire shielding themselves from the sun. The breeze of whispers blew throughout the time the entire day and, despite not admitting it to himself, Cosnach wasn't completely unphased by it.
Curiosity wasn't really something Cosnach was ashamed of. In fact he found his interest highly justified considering that he had had absolutely nothing to do for months on end. All the shipments to Arleif's seemed to either disappear weirdly or be robbed by Forsworn and bandits. Yet he found himself holding himself back from looking for the stranger, more out of spite than anything else. While the rest of the town seemed to enjoy whispering conspiracies behind people's backs whenever there was a slightest excuse, Cosnach himself had always believed in very simple means to find out solid truths about people. If a stranger were to order simple mead in the tavern, they were most likely a well grounded, common person. If their drink of choice was wine or alto wine, someone more reserved and snobby was likely to be the case.
And if they happened to order Honningbrew or Black-Briar, they were a common person with good taste and a respectably fat pouch of gold in their pocket.
In the end the day was proven too much of a bore to bother resisting his curiosity any longer. Besides, it wasn't like he was going out of his way to catch a glimpse of the stranger. The simple fact was that there was only one inn in town and if there was a stranger around, they were more than likely to come there for a roof above their head. And the inn was definitely a place that Cosnach spent a lot of time in, albeit mostly to avoid having to return to The Warrens. The glow of the huge fireplace in the back was always just barely enough to warm up the grand hall as the stone walls seemed to suck in the warmth, yet remaining cold. It was an oddly pleasant chill. Kept the drinks fresh, that's for sure.
That day was no different from any other day in Markarth, and such was the case inside The Silver-Blood Inn as well. As soon as Cosnach entered, he could hear Kleppr and Frabbi bickering about something that Cosnach could vaguely catch as being about cleaning. Heaving a deep sigh he reached for his coin pouch in his pocket, weighing the lightness of it on his palm.
Nothing too fancy tonight either. Maybe a single bottle of Honningbrew if he'd have the patience to down it sparingly.
Time passed quickly in the almost empty stone hall as Cosnach slowly downed a bottle after a bottle of regular old Nord Mead. The taste wasn't particularly to his fancy and he usually preferred ale, but he knew that choosing that as his drink of choice would tempt him to drink less. He wanted to be at the very least somewhat sober for the possibility of the stranger coming in. Maybe they'd be willing to have a quick chat and god, Cosnach craved a casual conversation with no idication of just passing rumors. Yet, as time passed, the inn was slowly filling up with people doing just that. Gossiping.
"That black armor looks expensive. I bet they're loaded."
"Suspicious is what it looks like. Just keep a close eye on your pockets."
"I heard they spoke with Ghorza at the forge for quite some time."
"They're far too short to be an Orc, though..."
By the time it was dark outside, the stone hall was echoing with chatter. Cosnach leaned his face to his palm tiredly and closed his eyes for a second. The mead was starting to affect him and he already felt the familiar, warm numbness. Yet now it was spiced with disappointment. Maybe the traveler had already carried on their way. Cosnach couldn't blame them. Who would willingly want to sleep on a bed of stone, after all? Even he preferred the somewhat stale stench of a haypile to one of those cold stone beds. Just as he was about to open his mouth to order one last drink, however, the chatter around him came to a freezing halt.
Cosnach's chestnut eyes lifted slightly and saw a figure standing in the doorway leading to the city. The armor they wore was black, seemingly ornate leather scales embracing the slim, yet muscular build of the stranger's body. It had a silvery symbol on the chest that Cosnach had never seen before, resembling what to him seemed like a bird. Their head was covered by a black hood that shadowed their face just the slightest bit despite the light from the chandelier and the fireplace being cast directly at her.
What wasn't shadowed by the hood was hidden behind the cowl that reached up to where their nose would be. Almost as if the stranger was treading to breathe the air that tasted faintly of the smoke from the fireplace accompanied with the damp coldness of the mountainside. The worn cape followed behind them like a shadow as they stepped forward, the light material waving ever so slightly in the rhythm of their footsteps. Upon reaching the counter, a pair of gloved hands clothed in the same darkness as the rest of their body, reached up to pull down the hood with a slow movement. The cowl soon followed. For the slightest second as the fabric fell on their shoulders, Cosnach could swear the entire city was holding its breath.
The pair of furry, large, pointy ears now revealed twitched at the sudden silence. Gleaming, icy blue eyes blinked with the same nonchalance that Cosnach had heard about in the streets earlier. She was used to this kind of treatment, but didn't seem to care enough to be bothered by it.
"Black-Briar Reserve, please."
As soon as the hoarse, purr-like voice had broken the silence, there was an uproar of whispers among the other patrons.
"A Khajit? Inside the walls?"
"I told you they'd be a thief... watch your purse now."
"Another Thalmor puppet, I bet."
"C'mon, go ask them if they have any skooma."
Unable to ignore the remarks, the Khajit sighed tiredly and sat down on a free bench in front of the counter.
"Nord does have a drink for Khajit, no?"
Kleppr's face quickly turned from astonished to alert, with a slight hint of disapproval.
"If you have the coin."
Without a word, a dark gloved hand snuk beneath the waist of the armor, soon to come back holding a coin purse. The Khajit tossed the heavy purse on the counter not too gently and the contents clinked against each other, a couple falling out from the loosely tied opening as the silken bag toppled over. The innkeeper stared at the purse for a lingering moment with hesitation, only to receive a smack on the back of his head from his wife.
"Don't be rude to our guest, you damn pig!" Frabbi scolded with a hiss. The annoyed look on her face disappeared in seconds right after she turned towards the stranger though, melting into a rehearsed smile.
"Black-Briar Reserve, was it? Would you like a tankard or-?"
"Bottle. Khajit has traveled long in this cold land. Misses the warmth of strong brew in her belly."
Frabbi nodded in agreement, kneeling to look over the bottles hidden below the counter for a bit before lifting up a dusty, blue bottle. Clearly embarrassed by the amount of dust, she hurried to wipe it off with the hem of her dress and glared daggers at her husband.
"I told you the shelves are filthy", he growled back at her. "You only clean the floors."
"Well maybe if you lended a helping hand instead of just chatting with the customers all the time-"
"And yet you claim I'm the one who doesn't look after our guests", Kleppr huffed tiredly before shifting his attention towards their odd guest. Unlike his wife, he didn't bother masking his discomfort. "Would you like anything else? Some food? A room?"
"If Nord has fish soup, Khajit would be delighted. Khajit would also like a room."
"Ah, of course. My wife will prepare the meal for you. It shouldn't take too long", came the response. The innkeeper gave a meaningful look to his wife before snatching the blue bottle from her hands.
"In the meantime, here's your bottle. I'll show you to your room once you've had your meal."
The woman grinded her teeth as she left with a stride that was anything but calm. The Khajit merely smirked faintly to herself in amusement, pouring out a couple more Septims on the wooden surface of the counter and pushing them towards Kleppr. She then took the bottle and, without hesitance, opened it and drank a long gulp.
"That coin is no doubt stolen."
"And such an expensive drink, too. How wasteful."
"Is that a cat thing? Talking in third person? Sounds weird."
Trying his damnest to ignore the gossiping, Cosnach eyed the stranger carefully up and down. Her eyes were large and almost appeared glowy, the irises mere dark slits in the light of the inn. She had them lowered to the counter as she leaned her elbow to the wooden surface, the weight of her head resting on her palm. He noted that the fingers beneath the gloves seemed slender, moving with an odd elegance as they tapped gently against her furred cheek.
From the top of her head cascaded a flow of dreadlocks down the back of her head, each one having a small, silvery ring at the end. Her face was mostly a deep dark gray with black, barely visible striped going down her nose and circling her cheekbones. The fur turned lighter towards the bottom half of her face, reaching a really faint gray near her black nose and her lower cheeks.
Her ears, instead of being up and perked, were lowered with an occasional twitch at any particularly nasty comment spoken by the other patrons. This made her look... exhausted. A hint sad, even. Cosnach frowned slightly at the notion, in his intoxication showing his displeasure at the others' cruelty a little more than he would like to. In a burst of will he stumbled up from his bench and approached the Khajit. A slight, friendly grin started creeping its way to his lips the more odd looks were shot at him. Someone with such a good taste in drink couldn't possibly be as bad as everyone painted her to be, just because of her race.
Besides, he had one more way of finding out what exactly the Khajit was about.
"You a fightin' gal?"
The question didn't startle the Khajit as much as it did surprise her. Her brow knitted in confusion as she turned only half-way to face the shabby-looking, blonde Breton. Slowly, she stopped leaning on her palm and traced her fingers to her lips. Thinking.
"...is the drunken man mad at Khajit?"
"Nah", Cosnach laughed out. "Been too long since I last had a good brawl. So how 'bout a little bet?"
The glint in the icy blue could easily be recognized as mischievousness. At the sound of the challenge, her ears finally perked up along with the corners of her mouth.
"How much?"
"Hundred gold. Ain't got much but that oughta do. You game?"
With no hesitation whatsoever, the Khajit reached her hands to remove her backpack, bow and quill from her back. She tossed them out of the way and they ended up in an empty corner of the inn, bumping against a chair. Her smirk now clear as day, revealing her sharp canines, the Khajit jumped down from her bench."
"Khajit is game."
By now the entire inn was watching the situation unfold. Since the area before the counter and near the front door was the clearest, that's where the odd duo headed with a silent agreement. The mead burning in his stomach gave Cosnach enough confidence to keep his smirk and avoid the freezing blue gaze that remained on his form.
In her amusement, the Khajit seemed highly curious about how this would go. Especially since, despite having invited her to a fight, the Breton was rather relaxed. With one last, lazy step further away from the stranger, Cosnach finally turned towards her with a playful grin.
"This should be easy", they heard from the crowd. "Twelve Septims on good ol' Cosnach."
"...I'm actually betting on the cat."
"What? Look at how small she is!"
"Small, but most likely sly. Their kind is tricky to deal with."
"...don't they have sharp claws?"
"Should we call the guards? What if she pulls a dagger like she did on ol' Weylin?"
Cosnach chuckled.
"We're causing a stir."
"Is it a bad thing? If folk is bored enough for petty gossip, then folk needs a show, no?"
Her voice was a low purr that felt as though it echoed through Cosnach's entire body, lighting it up with excitement. Accompanied with the challenging look she was giving him he could feel a slight shiver run down his spine.
"Then let's give them a show", he said quietly, his eyes aflame as he readied his fists in front of his body and cracked his neck in preparation.
Before Cosnach could finish drawing a deep breath, the Khajit was dashing towards him. The grin on his face faded as he was drawn into the brawl, attempting to grab the woman's upper body as she whisked by. He wasn't fast enough, however, and the Khajit had quickly moved behind him.
As he felt himself lose his footing upon a kick to his ankles, he cursed the last bottle of mead that he had downed before the stranger had arrived. He barely managed to stop his fall with his arms before hitting his head to the back of a chair. The brown eyes darted around to look for the Khajit, soon finding her as she stepped in front of him.
"Khajit thought this one would be better", she teased. "Does Rava need to be more gentle?"
Cosnach stumbled back to his feet.
"I didn't exactly count on you using tricks."
"Ah, but is Rava's kind not known for using trickery?"
As Cosnach looked up at the Khajit, he realized that the question was a challenge. A challenge to show that he wasn't like the other people, judging her solely for her furred outerior. A glint of hope glimmered in her eyes as she waited for his response, which was soon given with a smile.
"...so Rava's your name, huh? Then... what're ya waiting for, Rava? Fight's not over yet."
With that, he dived in for a punch, ready to receive the rest of the asskicking he knew he was going to get.
A/N: Chapter 1 - Local drunk thinks he's better than everyone.
Based on my main DB, Rava the Khajit. There isn't enough fics with Cosnach in them so I'm writing one now. #besthusband
Cut off the fight since I know I suck at hand to hand fights. Oh well. Coming up next on chapter 2: Cosnach surprisingly whines some more about everyone being jerks.