WINTERHOLD

FARALDA

Faralda sighed, watching the traveler slough through the thick Winterhold snow, breaking a trail toward the College entrance. The entire population of the town was indoors except for her, all because this asshole had to try and join. Wonderful.

The traveler broke through the three-foot deep sheet of snow to stand in front of Faralda, his robes sopping, his teeth chattering as he tried to speak. "I-I'm h-h-huh-here t-to join-n the C-C-Col-College..."

Faralda sighed again-why else would he be there? Perhaps he thought the College sold pies? Or he was very, very lost on his way to Jorrvaskr. "Of course you're here to join the College. But you can't do magic if you die from frostbite. Come on inside and warm up."

"T-th-ank-"

With another heaving sigh, Faralda grabbed the mans robe-sleeve and dragged him through the archway. "Thank me when you're warm. For now, shut up."

"Y-y-yes m-ma'am…"

Faralda pulled the man across the walkway to the College, stoically ignoring both the slick ice and the howling winds. Walking this way every day, it was easy for her to forget that the path was, to put it gently, ludicrously dangerous. The man nearly slipped on a thick patch of ice and Faralda yanked him closer, half-carrying him. His boots scrabbled against the ice, which re-froze almost as quickly as she could melt it away. By the time they reached the gates Faralda had the man tucked under her arm like an infant or a ham, thanking Auriel that he was tiny. The walls of the courtyard shielded them from the worst of the elements, allowing Faralda to witness a familiar scene: Mirabelle and Ancano arguing. Resisting the urge to sigh again, she pulled the soaked man up to Mirabelle, grabbing his limp free arm and using it to slap the Master Wizards shoulder. "Mirabelle!"

Mirabelle turned around, with a sigh Faralda would be proud of. "Faralda, I'm busy. Can it wait?"

"Sure," Faralda replied, "if you're okay with it dying." To emphasize her point, she shook the freezing man gently: he mumbled something about guards. Great, Faralda thought, we've somehow acquired another criminal. "Can we please deal with this new asshole first before we go back to dealing with the old one? He's almost dead."

Mirabelle rolled her eyes and turned away from Ancano, who sputtered indignantly. "Another one? How long will it take for these idiots to learn that Winterhold can be cold?" The Master Wizard grabbed the mans other arm and threw it over her shoulder. "Thank Talos he's little."

"Excuse me?" Ancano said, drawing himself up to his full height. "Mirabelle, I'd advise you to watch your tongue or-"

"Or what?" Mirabelle interrupted, her voice more resigned than angry. This was a familiar problem at the College: almost everyone had invoked Talos in earshot of Ancano, even the Arch-Mage and Urag. And Urag was known as a devout worshipper of Malacath-he just liked bothering the Thalmor. Before Ancano could answer, Mirabelle continued, "You'll get your buddies together, march them through a Stormcloak city, up our walkway, and then somehow arrest a building-full of powerful and trained mages? No? Didn't think so. So go find a nice corner to hide your shame in and fuck yourself."

Ancano's mouth dropped open, and Mirabelle and Faralda hauled the man into the Hall of Attainment, flopping him down on an empty bed. Mirabelle leaned out into the central hall, shouting that if someone didn't get Colette right now then they would be assigned to Midden duty.

"What's Midden duty?" Faralda asked casually, pulling the man's sodden hood off while Mirabelle removed his robes. "I made it up," Mirabelle replied, "but if I lock one of them down there the draugr problem might be solved. Or our food budget could get a cutback. Either way, I win."

The door to the Hall was flung open, and the apprentice whose name Faralda always forgot (Brenda? Blendin?) dragged the College's Restoration Master in. Colette pushed her hair back, and cast a quick Flames spell over her robes to dry them. "Where's the victim?"

Faralda and Mirabelle shot each other concerned looks. "Colette, dear, do you mean patient?" Faralda asked. "Nope!" Colette said brightly. "He's a victim of this damn weather. Now move!" As Faralda and Mirabelle moved away from the bed (Faralda slipped on the hood), Colette stepped forward, cracked her knuckles dramatically, and raised each hand. In one, the Flame spell burned bright, while a soft golden luminescence filled the other. Colette breathed deeply, pointed her hands at the man, and…set him on fire. As soon as the Flame spell touched his skin, Colette released her other spell, bathing him in a golden glow. The mans back arched in pain before relaxing, as the healing spell worked the burns away, while the fire started his blood flowing again. Colette kept the spells up for a moment before ceasing, pressing her head to his chest. "Uhm, Colette?" Brenana said, a bit sheepishly. "His…his heart didn't stop, did it?"

"Oh, probably not. But it's always good to check." Colette replied absentmindedly, checking his toes and fingers for signs of frostbite. "You do, after all, need a heart to live. So make sure it's working!"

Blender nodded, pulling out a hidebound notebook and a quill to jot that down, as Colette stepped away from her patient. She nodded once, dusted absolutely nothing from her hands, and pulled a bottle of mead from her pocket. "That oughtta do it!", she said cheerfully, uncorking the mead. "Um…Colette? Is this an appropriate time?" Mirabelle asked, warily. "Hm? Oh, this isn't for me! This is Urag's special mead. I use it to wake up patients and clean up my paint messes."

And with that, Colette opened the mans mouth slightly and tossed the mead on his face. He sat bolt upright, coughing and sputtering. "WHAT IN THE NAME OF TALOS' LEFT NUT?!"

"Ooh, that's good," Mirabelle said. "Brelyna, make a note of that. I wanna see Ancano's face when he hears it."

The man took a great, heaving breath and flopped backwards, thumping against the pillow. "Welcome back to the land of the living!" Faralda said, noting the way that Brenllama was…noticing the man's distinctly non-Magelike physique. "I believe we skipped the formalities. My name is Faralda. And yours?"

The man sat up again, wincing and touching a scar on his side. "A-André. My name is André. I'm a Breton."

Faralda waved her hand blithely, dismissing his reply. "Very, very nice. But can you do magic?"

André nodded weakly, and raised his hand. A spark of purple light formed between his index finger and thumb. "It's not much, but…it's the one that's easiest for me." Then, with a level of indifference bordering on boredom that perfectly contrasted with the strain on his face (or possibly he furrowed his brows to keep the mead from dripping into his eyes), he flicked it away at the floor. A burst of bright purple light emanated from the spot where it struck, and a flame atronach appeared in a swirl of fire. Behemoth gasped, impressed by…something. Faralda simply nodded, watching the atronach. "Very nice, very nice. Well, if Mirabelle will allow it, I think we have a spot here for you."

"Thank Talos," André said, closing his eyes. Mirabelle nodded, rising from her chair and leaving with Colette. Bamanana paused for a moment at the door. "Do-do you need anything, André?"

André flipped over onto his stomach. "Yeah," he said, his voice muffled by the pillow, "sleep."

"Oh. Okay," Barmaid said, her cheeks reddening. Faralda, stifling a chuckle, ushered her out of the room. "Come on, you can awkwardly flirt tomorrow."

Wow, that took an unreasonable amount of time to write and it still sucks. Whatever, I'm not spending another five months rewriting this chapter (not an exaggeration, y'all). The next one will be better, I promise. Leave any questions, comments, and constructive criticisms down below in the reviews…thingy…yeah. Any really rude criticisms can be PM'd to me, as those make me laugh.