"This. Is. Ridiculous."
Talayth smacked her head on the bar, mugs clattering on impact. Her head ached from the blow, but she ignored it. Her tattered dress (If you could even call it that) snagged on the wooden planks of the floor, and her raven colored hair was disastrous, falling in her face multiple times. The rag in her hand had become filthy from scrubbing the endlessly dirty mugs, which never stayed clean for long after. And, as usual, there wasn't a single person there to drink, making her efforts seem exceedingly useless.
She was through being the innkeeper for the day. The Cornerclub received little business, so there seemed little point to her job. And yet she worked anyway, in hopes of grabbing what coin she could. Even so, she had become incredibly moody this day, and her bitterness was affecting her friends as well.
Rendar, who was usually working the bar instead of Talayth, was leaning against the wall behind her, picking through their reserves from off the shelf. He studied each bottle of booze with a critical eye, eventually throwing each one aside in apparent dissatisfaction. She eyed him wearily, a bit conflicted by his actions.
It's not like we get buisness anyway, so who cares what the wine taste like? I need those bottles to get through the day.
"Hey," She interrupted, "Stop throwing it out. Who gives a damn if the customers don't like our swill? They can get drunk at Candlehearth Hall for all I care."
He scoffed. "I'm not doing it for the customers, I'm doing it for us. Just because we live in this filthy hobble doesn't mean we have to drink disgusting ale to match. I refuse to live in such wretched conditions."
She rolled her eyes as he tossed yet another bottle aside. Rendar had always been the more… stubborn of the three of them. Despite living in the slums of Windhelm, underneath the foot of the Nords, Rendar refused to set himself to the standards that they were given as Dunmer. People always assumed that they were unkempt and dirty creatures (which in some cases was quite accurate) but Rendar was prideful of his people, and spent most of his time trying to find ways to prove the Dark Elves better than the Nords. Particularly when it came to his inn, the New Gnisis Cornerclub. He only accepted the best.
Elenil, who was sitting silently in a chair, held different standards. By far the most level-headed of the group, he was never out to taunt the Nords, nor was he trying to prove anything as a Dunmer. Elenil was simply looking for a better way to live, tired of the war for survival in Windhelm. Despite his race, he didn't spite all Nords for who they were, unlike both Rendar and Talayth. He simply envied their freedoms, and hoped for Ulfric to grant them some form of dignity.
They both lived here in the Cornerclub with Talayth. There were other Dunmer amongst them in Windhelm, the Atheron family to be specific. But Aval worked his stall in the market for most of the day. And his other siblings, Faryl and Suvaris, had jobs at a local farm just outside the city, owned by Nords. (Much to Talayth's disgust) She was the newest member of the Dark Elf population. But unlike them, She had a more personal reason for her anger.
She had arrived a few years back, only thirteen years old at the time. Originally from Morrowind, her family had faced the hardships that almost all Dunmer faced. The eruption of the Red Mountain. The entire ordeal had major effects on Morrowind's economy, and soon, their lives began to steadily decline.
Talayth's mother had always stayed home to take care of her daughter; her father spent his days mining for Stalhrim, a difficult choice of work. Stalhrim was simply becoming more and more difficult to find, and as each day passed, her father came home with less and less coin. With no other trade to make a living off of, her parents chose to move their lives away from their home and to a new world. Skyrim.
But it was clear as soon as they had arrived in Windhelm that things were just as bad here. The civil war that plagued the land was completely unheard of to her family, so they were completely caught off guard by the pure hatred they received from the Nords. They were shunned instantly, considered just as revolting as the High Elves.
Just like the rest of the Dunmer, they were pushed into the Grey Quarters, forced to live in squalid conditions and were given as little as possible. But even then, they received no peace from the others. They were continuously harassed by the locals, and taxed on nearly everything they needed. All due to their appearance alone. It was a sad life. But living conditions aside, they were surviving, and that was all that mattered.
Until the tension in Windhelm finally broke.
The outsiders, as the Nords called them, were sick of the abuse. And the pale people of Skyrim were sick of letting them into their home. Riots broke out in the streets. The elves demanded equality; the Nords demanded justice. No one was willing to break, and so everyone began to fight, tearing each other apart without the slightest remorse.
And Talayth's father became just one of the many deaths.
She was too young to know exactly what happened, but her mother described it as a meaningless squabble between him and a Nord citizen. The conversation turned foul, and a sword was pulled. They fought, and her father fell. Becoming yet another victim.
If her mother hadn't traveled outside that day, they would have never found his body. No one gave respect of the dead of the Dunmer. His body had been resting in the snow for days. The white now tinted red. The Nords had killed Talayth's father, then disgraced his body. And it sent fury through her.
But it was more than that. It wasn't just that he had been killed. It was that his death meant nothing. Nothing at all. Even after he perished, the world continued on moving as it always had. No one shedded tears. No one gave a moment of silence. No one gave comfort to the grieving widow and her child. Because no one cared. All because he was a Dark Elf.
Whether it was from heartbreak or bad health, Talayth's mother died soon after. But her daughter was almost sixteen now, and she was no longer dependant on others. She lived in the Grey Quarter for the rest of her time, becoming close to Rendar and Elenil as the years passed. But even as time went by, the Dark Elves were still treated the same. They were abused. They were taxed. And they were unwelcome. And soon, her hatred had only boiled even more.
Rendar smacked a bottle down in front of Talayth, snapping her out of thoughts. After a few seconds, she eyed him dully.
"You know, the cheap stuff is just as good."
"Not for my establishment." He snatched the rag from her hands. "And keep the rag clean."
"You run the damn bar then. I doubt we'll get any customers anyways."
That stung. Rendar paused for a moment, then pushed past her to take her place. Taking it as a confirmation, Talayth stepped aside and sat down at the table, Elenil giving her pointed looks as she did. Choosing to ignore them, she plucked her dagger from the table's surface, letting it slip through her at the nails with the tip of her dagger, boredom setting in. But despite her attempts to ignore him, her annoyance got the better of her.
"Do you mind?" She snapped, stabbing her dagger into the table. It wavered from the force, ending in silence. Elenil simply shook his head wearily.
"You're in a bad mood."
"No shit."
"But why are you?"
"None of your damn business."
Her voice was harsh, but she didn't mean it. Her anger wasn't directed towards Elenil. Nor was it Rendar. But she couldn't contain her spitefulness. She had spent enough time holding in her hatred. She felt bitter. Disgruntled. For what reason she didn't know. But she was angry, and resentful, and everything in between. Whatever it was about this day, it brought out the worst in Talayth.
Damn Nords.
"I'm getting some fresh air…" She murmured, not waiting for a response.
Grabbing her dagger on the way, (It's always nice to have protection) she stepped outside, a burst of frosted air spreading across her skin. As the door closed behind her, she inhaled, the frigid wind giving life to her dormant body. Soft, delicate flakes fell from above, leaving her hair spotted white. The sun hung high above, engulfed in the grey billow of clouds that covered the sky, concealing what little blue was visible. It was a winter-like Eden. Despite her hatred for her home, she couldn't help but admire its raw beauty.
Wait… What's going on?
Voices echoed throughout the corridors, ending with a fearful scream and multiple shouts of anger. Talayth stiffened, her eyes straining to see past the weather and towards the sound.
What the hell is happening?
Hesitantly, she followed the source of the sound, treading lightly through the snow. The voices became louder, the apprehension clear in each word. As she reached the main gates of Windhelm, she finally caught sight of the mass. A small group had formed, local Nords surrounding a pitiful looking girl. A Dark Elf. And the tension in the air was lucid. She was being harassed.
"You come here where you're not wanted, you eat our food, you pollute our city with your stink and you refuse to help the Stormcloaks."
It was a Nordic man, crude and mocking, with a crass smile. Talayth recognized his grotesque features immediately. Rolff Stone-Fist. the local Idiot. He often pranced around the Grey Quarters in the early morning, letting her and the others hear his unwanted opinion. He was a drunk, a sleaze, and the biggest ass Talayth had ever met. And better yet, he simply adored Dark Elves.
The woman he had addressed looked insulted, but didn't attack Rolff back. Talayth was almost positive that she was Sulvari.
She put her hands up in a pleaded defense. "But we haven't taken a side because it's not our fight."
Another man spoke up, a beggar. "Hey, maybe the reason these grey-skins don't help in the war is because they're Imperial spies!"
"Imperial spies? You can't be serious!"
"Maybe we'll pay you a visit tonight, little spy." Rolff smiled at the girl. "We got ways of finding out what you really are."
He moved towards her, and in that instant, Talayth decided to interrupt.
"Don't you dare touch her!"
Her voice shook with anger, but she did her best to hold it steady. She bounded across the little space in between them, and planted herself in front of the girl. Her eyes skimmed down the Nords with disgust. She wouldn't leave her Kin like this.
"Well, whadaya know," Rolff narrowed his eyes. "There's another one. They must live in a pack. Like rats."
"Piss off, Nord." Talayth hissed the words.
"You don't have the right to tell me to leave. This is our city. And your kind has defiled it!"
"It wasn't very grand to begin with. Not surprising considering how barbaric and repulsive you Nords are."
That hit the mark. Rolff's face contorted in rage, his mocking smile now gone.
"You know what, grey-skin? I've had enough of you and your people!"
And suddenly, the world came crashing down. Sulvari screamed behind Talayth as Rolff charged, his fists raised. She didn't have time to think, she just reacted. Her hand had instinctively reached for her knife, and before she knew it, the blade sank deep into the flesh of the Nord. His attack stopped in that instant, and silence filled the air. Blood dripped gently off the blade as his body slid to the stone ground. His mouth opened for just a slight moment, then shut, his eyes foggy and unfocused.
She killed him. She had killed a man with her own hands.
Talayth despised Nords. But she would never kill out of hatred. She was raised better than that. But even so, she had let her blade part through his skin and end his life in mere seconds. She was a monster.
Both Sulvari and the beggar covered their mouths, shocked to the core. Talayth was too shaken to explain herself, and she simply fell to her knees, the dagger slipping from her fingertips. After what seemed like forever, the beggar broke the silence.
"M-Murderer! You heartless fiend! Guards! Guards!"
"But I-I was defending myself! You saw me!"
But the beggar didn't listen, running towards the palace in a spur of panic and fear. Talayth could only stare past him. She flinched as a hand fell on her shoulder, ready to fight off the guards that pulled at her. But it was only Sulvari, looking pale. She didn't try to hide her fear.
"Please. I thank you for what you did for me, but you can't stay here. They won't let you live after killing one of their own. You need to leave."
"What? No! No, I won't leave! This is my home!"
"If you stay, you'll die. You need to leave this city, anywhere is better than here."
"I can't, it's suicide. I don't have food, or coin, or anything!"
"It's still safer out there than here. "She lifted the dagger from off the ground, placing it in Talayth's hands. "There's no time to argue about this, go!"
The sound of footsteps drew nearer, and Talayth, with no other options, stood and ran. She didn't stop when she heard shouting behind her. She burst through the front gates and into the open, leaving everything she had left in exchange for her life. Tears began to form around the rims of her eyes, but she wiped them away and ran harder. She wouldn't fall apart. Not now.
She didn't know how far she ran, but the sounds of the city disappeared after a while, and her body began to slow. Even so, she forced herself forward with the little strength she had left. But even then, she couldn't last long. She tripped, her face landing in the cold snow. Glancing behind her, she struggled to get her bearings, but she could feel herself breaking. Her attempts to stand became a pitiful crawl, and she finally let the tears slip down her face. Eventually, she let herself fall, and she curled up in the show, shivering.
This was it. Her pathetic life played out in front of her. Did the Gods really hate her people that much? Could they have truly given her such ill fortune?
She didn't know. She couldn't even think about it, for her body was slowly becoming numb and her mind had gone silent. She didn't bother to think about the past, nor the future. Because neither one mattered at this point. She was alone, and dying.
With a chilling breath, she tried one last time to stand. Only for her legs to give out, and her vision to fade to black as she collapsed into the snow.