I wasn't going to post this, but my ps3 is busted so now I have to live vicariously through fanfiction. For the most part, this doesn't really follow game canon. But I guess that's only applicable if I decide to post more chapters, and if I do they will mostly be drabbles.
P.S. There are OCs (or at least one at the moment), but most of them are actually various Dragonborns I've played. I like my player characters and I don't want any of them to feel left out, ok. Only Sancia is the actual Dragonborn, though.
x
Sancia found herself in Whiterun. It wasn't the choicest of destinations in her book, but few places were, come to think. It wasn't forbidding like Markarth, or snobbish like Solitude. No, Whiterun was just so…wholesome. It wasn't the sort of city that should play host to the murdering, thieving likes of her. All the same, she had needed a drink, and the Bannered Mare was the next nearest inn and tavern available. Beggars cannot be choosers, as the old adage goes.
Nord Mead was swill, but it was cheap swill. Honningbrew Mead was better, but slightly out of her price range, though preferable to the suspiciously overpriced and bland-tasting Black-Briar Mead. Nord Mead was the sort of stuff brewed in the same vats as homemade skeever-poison, then heavily diluted with some form of alcohol so as to weaken the lethality. The very thought, combined with the of feeling the stuff washing over her tongue made her cringe inwardly. Oh, if only she had the coin for some Colovian brandy. Or Firebrand wine. Now that would knock her on her ass. Sadly, her coin-purse was light enough without her wasting its contents on unnecessarily expensive beverages.
No, Nord Slop would get her just as drunk, and soon enough she wouldn't even be able to taste it well enough to care how disgusting it was. When she was vomiting it up tomorrow morning she would regret this decision all over again, but she preferred to live in the present, and let the Divines sort out the future.
"Thought I'd find you here," claimed a raspy voice, its owner so close that Sancia could feel their breath on her ear.
"No khajiit allowed in the city," she muttered, annoyed at how quickly she'd been found. She didn't bother asking how her companion had made her way past the city guards—in all likelihood the answer was that she'd simply scaled the walls. In fact, she sincerely doubted that there were any walls built by man or mer that could keep Tsa'eska out of a place she'd set her mind on getting into.
"If they truly meant to enforce such a law, then they would build their walls higher," Eska purred, confirming Sancia's internal ruminations. Ignoring the distrustful look on the innkeeper's face, she pulled out a seat next to her human friend and settled herself down at the bar.
"How'd you find me?" the Breton asked, knowing that this too was a pointless question, but trying to avoid any meaningful conversation.
"I simply employed your usual sense of logic, and then followed the scent of shame, and cheap booze."
"The tried and true method," Sancia snorted wryly. In truth, Eska could have found her no matter where she ended up, but being predictable required less effort, so here they both were. "One of us has to be reliable, I suppose."
"You're nothing if not reliable, sister," the khajiit mused with a feline grin, "For example, I can rely on you to order mead enough for the entire Imperial Legion," Sancia interjected here with a scoff, "and I can rely on you to have imbibed most of it by the time I arrive. I can also rely on you to leave me as much as you know I will drink, since the innkeepers will not serve a khajiit." That last was true enough. Sancia reached into her cloak to retrieve a bottle the bartender had not seen her hide—though it was certainly paid for—and handed it to Tsa'eska, her sister in all things but blood.
The two fell silent for a few minutes while the khajiit sipped her mead, and Sancia drained another bottle. The Breton was beginning to feel that telltale dizziness, her first clue that she'd already had too much to drink. Unfortunately the innkeeper suddenly seemed unwilling to serve either her or her companion, no matter that they were paying customers. Racist old hag, Sancia thought, though she might have said it out loud if the scandalized look the old woman gave her was any indication. When she felt Eska's furred hand on her shoulder, she knew that that was their cue to leave.
Tsa'eska pulled up her hood as they exited the inn, hiding her all too obvious feline features; deep grey fur that almost appeared blue, interspersed with white tips and points, and golden eyes that flashed in the moonlight. Her tail was harder to conceal, even with the cloak she wore, but as long as they kept their heads down the guards likely wouldn't notice—this was Whiterun, after all, not Windhelm.
Once in the relatively empty market square, they could hear the echo of muffled shouting and music coming from the great, upturned ship located in the Cloud District. Jorrvaskr, Sancia knew. She'd only been to Whiterun once before, and she hadn't stayed long enough to run into any of its residents. This time she hadn't been quite as fortunate.
"There might be work to be found in this city," Eska pointed out in that roundabout way of hers. Of course she was talking about going up to Jorrvaskr and asking to join the Companions.
"Yes…," Sancia hedged, "That bridge might have been burned already."
Eska shot her a look, visible even in the shadows of her hood, and said in a knowing tone, "You opened your mouth around the wrong person."
"Another thing I'm quite reliable about," the Breton admitted, only slightly diffident. Really, she had just been trying to mind her own business. That was why she had come all the way to Whiterun from Riverwood in the first place. There was a perfectly good inn there where she could have gotten just as drunk as she was now, but after retrieving that stupid claw for those shopkeepers she hadn't wanted to spend one minute more in that town than she absolutely had to. Not after fighting draugr, and giant spiders, and that damnable bandit-thief, not to mention that…wall. Whatever it had been, it had ensorcelled her mind, made her vision go dark as those strange letters seemed to rush at her, blazing and bright amidst the shadows.
She had been disoriented for several minutes—minutes where Eska had had to do battle with a draugr that screeched an ungodly racket that literally threw the khajiit off of her feet. All for a stupid golden claw, and some damn bloody tablet. It might have been worth nothing, but the strange writing etched into its surface was the same as what had been inscribed on that wall. Perhaps it held answers in regards to whatever had happened to her. So far, she wasn't feeling any ill effects, but it was better to be safe than sorry. If she started turning into a draugr, or came down with a raging case of the rattles then they would know something was wrong, and perhaps the tablet would hold answers.
After all that, could she really be blamed for not wanting to join several warriors doing battle with a giant? She had run practically the entire way from Riverwood, taking most of the previous night and day, and on only an hour or so of sleep. And she'd left Eska behind, knowing the khajiit would come looking for her and needing a few hours to get properly drunk out from under the presence her meddlesome concern.
Well, the warriors certainly hadn't really taken kindly to being ignored. They apparently took offense to watching an armed woman stride past their battle with a giant, without stopping to offer a helping hand. Oh, she had watched, of course, and it was good she had, because the beast had suddenly come rampaging toward the road, swinging his great club. She'd blinded him with a ball of mage-light, disabling him long enough for the warriors to bring him down.
All at once her vision had been filled with the towering presence of a ginger-haired Nord woman, thanking her sarcastically for her brave assistance. In truth, at the moment she couldn't recall exactly what had been said. Something about honor, and the Companions, and a mention that they were always looking for capable warriors. Not mages, Sancia remembered thinking. She could fight well enough with a small sword or dagger, but her true strength lay in magic. With a flare of annoyance, and a desire for the conversation to be over, she might have mentioned that she thought being a Companion sounded like a waste of time. Suffice to say, that hadn't gone over well. There hadn't been an altercation, but the warriors had stalked off in a huff, and Sancia had finally been able to make her way into the city to find a drink.
What would the mighty Companions think if she staggered into their great hall, drunk and unrepentant, with her apologetic khajiit caretaker in tow? No, it would be better if they found someplace for her to sleep off her drink, and then moved on in the morning. Or whenever she managed to recover from her hangover.
"I didn't drink away all my coin this time," she offered, voice slurring around the edges.
"Congratulations," Eska drawled sarcastically, "Come, sister. We shall set up a tent at the khajiit camp." That was their usual fallback when they wound up getting run out of a city. Nobody cared who camped in the patches of dirt reserved for khajiit caravans, so long as they didn't do anything noticeably illegal.
In her current state, Sancia was more a hindrance than a help in getting their tent set up, but she at least possessed enough of her faculties to get the campfire going. Soon enough they were settled down in their bedrolls, weapons within easy reach just in case. Sancia was half-asleep when she heard Eska murmur something at her. "What?" she asked, voice leaden and groggy.
"I said perhaps the Thieves Guild will take our sorry hides, since no one else will have us."
The Breton barked a laugh, and said, "Them, or maybe the Dark Brotherhood." She meant it as a joke, but the next morning saw her being shaken awake by a pushy khajiit who informed her that she'd hired a carriage to take them to Riften.
"Wha-? Why?" Sancia sputtered as she stuffed her things haphazardly into her pack.
"Because no one knows us there, and perhaps we'll be able to find work before you open your mouth and piss anybody off," Eska said, rather perfunctorily. She pushed the human down the road leading to Whiterun Stables where their carriage awaited them, and practically had to throw her into it. As soon as she was seated, she immediately stretched out, drawing her hood down over her face and promptly falling back to sleep. The khajiit rolled her eyes, and handed the driver his payment, which he counted out in front of her before finally cracking the reigns and getting their journey underway. Tsa'eska had a feeling it was going to be a long one.
x
boop
If you review a candy fairy will leave Reese's Pieces under your pillow tonight. And if you don't like Reese's Pieces he'll leave you a big fat pile of nothing, because Reese's Pieces are fucking delicious.
