The new apprentice, Brelyna decided, was odd. Very odd. The way she moved and spoke was foreign, almost archaic. This was to mention nothing of her dress sense, which seemed to involve as many layers and as much jewellery as possible. The smallest gust of wind sent the necklaces and bracelets swaying, tinkling like a wind chime. How the other Dunmer managed to keep her long white hair from tangling on the innumerable straps and buckles of her outfit, Brelyna had no idea, and she doubted she ever would. The Dunmer woman was stoic, unreadable and intimidating, and her face had a strangely ageless quality about it. Though she looked to be in her mid-twenties, the white hair and faded red eyes attested otherwise.

At any rate, all this hardly mattered, as Brelyna hadn't even said a word to her. The other woman had strode into the Hall of the Elements, confident as you please, right in the middle of Tolfdir's lecture, merely waving one oddly-gauntleted hand at him to continue, the metal glinting in the blue light. Brelyna had never seen armour like that, either. It was obviously Dwemer in make, but much more ornate than anything she'd come across, and fitted her hand like it was made for her, rather than scavenged from a ruin. Tearing her eyes away, Brelyna tried to focus on Tolfdir once more, knowing it would be best to make a good impression on the lecturers.

Ten minutes later found her just as distracted as before. Tolfdir had called the newcomer forward to demonstrate a basic ward, and while the spell was simple enough, the sheer power that emanated from the woman was overwhelming. It tasted of hot ash and had a woodsy, almost fungus-like smell with just a hint of salt, and the Dunmer woman just stood there casually while Tolfdir flung fireballs at her, holding the ward longer than Brelyna knew she could manage. The smell of her magicka clung to her nostrils for hours afterwards.

Once the lecture ended, Brelyna made a beeline for the strange woman, intent on at least asking her name. The other apprentices still stood there uncertainly, at a loss for what to do, but the Dunmer strode from the hall with the same energy as she entered, sweeping through the snow piled on the walkway outside and into the Hall of Attainment, throwing her satchel down on one of the beds. Brelyna followed hesitantly, putting down her own bag in the small alcove she now owned, before standing awkwardly next to the warm central flame, watching how the violent light turned her skin an even more vibrant shade.

"I'm afraid I didn't catch your name," Brelyna said, looking up at the woman. She was sitting on her own bed, gazing back with a strange intensity, a mixture of curiosity, weariness and distrust in her gaze.

"Delvana Uvirith," she replied, her voice low and slightly raspy, coloured with a thick accent Brelyna hadn't heard before. "And what is your name, sera?"

"Brelyna Maryon," the apprentice responded. Delvana's eyes widened almost imperceptibly, and Brelyna wondered what had bothered her. "Why did you call me 'sera'?" she asked, frowning in confusion. The word sounded vaguely familiar, like she had read it somewhere and forgotten the meaning.

Delvana shook her head, sending her long white hair flying, and she combed it over her shoulder irritably to braid it. "A habit, I suppose, and a formality long forgotten."

Brelyna shifted uncomfortably, trying to find a line between friendly conversation and intrusion of privacy. "So where is your accent from? It's not one I've heard," she inquired, grasping for a change in conversation.

"Vvardenfell," Delvana answered. Brelyna raised an eyebrow, waiting for her to continue, but she remained silent.

"I thought Vvardenfell was destroyed almost two centuries ago, and almost no one survived," she responded, scepticism colouring her voice. She winced internally at the accusatory tone.

The other Dunmer gave her a withering stare in response, face as hard and cold as a glacier. "That is not a fact you need remind me of, girl," she said, each word harsh and grating. Then she sighed, tying off her braid with a flick of her wrist. "I apologise. It is all in the past, now, and you cannot know what it was like for those of us who were there."

Brelyna gave her a flat stare, and the other woman gazed back, seemingly unconcerned by the scrutiny. "So you were there?"

"Yes."

"On an island that was practically destroyed over two centuries ago?"

"That much is indeed obvious."

"By the Eight, you're old." The icy stare she got in response was all the eloquence Delvana needed. "I- I mean, you certainly don't look it!" Brelyna exclaimed, frantically trying to fix her slip up. "I'm sorry, but words just tumble out of my mouth sometimes, and I know it sounds horribly rude, but I-"

And then she laughed. Brelyna trailed off, fidgeting awkwardly. "What? What did I say?" she asked, utterly bemused.

Delvana sighed, shaking her head. "You don't think to question what happened on Vvardenfell, or how I escaped, but instead remark upon my age like it is something significant. I've known wizards who have lived for well over four thousand years, one of whom was my dear friend, so forgive me if I don't feel quite as old as you think I am."

Brelyna raised an eyebrow. "Four thousand? Really?"

"They were Telvanni," Delvana replied with a shrug. "Need I say more?"

Brelyna laughed. "No, no you don't. Some of my ancestors were Telvanni, and I've heard some rather interesting stories. They say the old magisters knew how to extend their lifespan indefinitely, and if what you say is true, I might just believe it."

"I certainly believed Divayth when he mentioned his age. I don't know how he managed it, though. The Telvanni are – were, I mean – a secretive bunch, even when I was archmagister," Delvana sighed. "But no, even then I was still an outlander."

Brelyna stared, wide-eyed, not quite believing what she had heard. "Did you just say you're the archmagister of House Telvanni?" she asked, barely able to summon more than a whisper.

Delvana froze, face shifting to careful blankness. Then she nodded, barely more than a slight incline of her head, before turning to fiddle with one of the soul gems that lay on her bedside table.

"What are you even doing here?" Brelyna demanded, gesturing at the empty apprentice hall. "You can't have risen to the top of House Telvanni by sheer luck. I felt your magicka earlier, and it had more power than I've ever seen. By all rights you should at least be a teacher here, if not arch-mage yourself, not a mere apprentice!"

Delvana sighed, shifting from the edge of her bed and coming to stand next to Brelyna, holding her hands to the purple flame. "I wanted to escape from politics and expectations. After everything that happened on Vvardenfell, after everything I messed up... When Red Mountain erupted, I knew it was my chance to start a new life, away from anyone that would recognise me. I'm no politician. I came to Vvardenfell an outlander, and to them I would always be that n'wah that murdered and sabotaged her way to the top."

There was a silence for a while. Brelyna had no idea how to respond, even though she wanted to comfort the quiet, broken woman next to her. "I can certainly understand wanting to escape from politics," she said hesitantly, "but I had no idea native Dunmer were so harsh on foreigners. It's a sad thing to hear."

Delvana let out a bitter, almost mocking laugh. "Oh, they were no worse than the Nords are now," she said with a wry smile. "Coming here was almost like first stepping foot on Vvardenfell all over again, only much colder."

Brelyna chuckled, "I know the feeling. I'm from Port Telvannis originally, and though apparently it's not as hot as Vvardenfell used to be, coming to Skyrim was a shock."

"I can certainly imagine," Delvana replied, a small smile creeping onto her face. "Why, the first time I went to Solstheim I had the shock of my life! Cold, snow, warring Imperials and Nords, infested with spriggans and werewolves... I daresay it's prepared me for Skyrim quite well."

Brelyna grinned along with the other Dunmer, not quite suppressing a giggle. They stood in silence for a moment, but it was companionable rather than awkward this time. There were a million questions she wanted to ask, all of them whirling around her mind like a leaf in a storm, shouting to be answered. However, there was one in particular that caught her attention.

"Do you know anything about the Nerevarine?" Brelyna almost missed the shadow that passed over Delvana's face, and even then it seemed more of a trick of the light. Still, something about the look the other woman gave her made her feel unsteady, and she hastily tried to explain herself. "I mean, from what you've said you must have been on Vvardenfell around the same time as her, right? It's not like I'm expecting you to have met her or anything, but you know how stories change over the years. Who knows how they've been exaggerated!" She laughed nervously, inwardly berating herself for the increase in pitch that betrayed her anxiety.

Delvana stared at her incomprehensibly for a moment, and it felt like the press of a mountain against her chest. Then all of a sudden it crumbled to dust, and she smiled brightly, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Oh, I know plenty of tales," she said, gesturing to one of the chairs in her room. The two Dunmer sat, and Delvana leaned forward, hands raised as if in readiness to cast a spell rather than tell a story.

"The Nerevarine came to Vvardenfell in 3E 427. It is said that she travelled aboard a prison ship, though no one knows what her crime was, and that Emperor Uriel himself had chosen to pardon her of her insurrections..."