Ralof eyed the Khajiit sitting across from him on the cart. The physique marked her as female, but he had little experience at all with the felid peoples; Nords normally frowned on any outsider, particularly those who bore fur or scales.
The Khajiit's hands weren't just bound, either. They were covered in a way that looked like she were wearing thickly-padded gloves. It made sense, since all the cat-people had dangerously sharp claws, but now, it seemed a bit over-the-top to him.
She stirred, ears and whiskers twitching as she came back to consciousness, and Ralof sighed. At least it would be over faster, no needing to have a healer revive her so the headsman could put her down permanently… but he found himself wondering. What had a Khajiit been doing so far north of her homeland?
He would have to ask her in Sovngarde, it seemed. The thief started squealing, and the Khajiit growled quietly at the noise. Ulfric looked completely perturbed at the entire debacle, and they were approaching Helgen.
Everything happened so quickly, he lost track of it all until they were in the keep. The dragon had destroyed so much of the town, but the people were still running. He'd been afraid that the Khajiit, Mercy (odd name for a cat) would go with the Imperial guard who'd led the way to the tower, but she'd hissed at the man. When Ralof had called, she'd followed gladly.
She'd proven to be a quick learner, transforming from proficient to deadly with the axe he'd had her equip by the time they'd escaped the caverns. He'd talked to her a lot as they travelled from Helgen to Riverwood, watching as she zigzagged across the road gathering various plants. Honestly, it was as though she were a child in an unfamiliar land…
"Mercy, have you never been to Skyrim before?"
Her ears rotated back toward him as she looked around; she nodded when she turned to face him.
"This one never really left her home in Elseweyr. Her sire was not doing well for a long time, so she stayed to look after him. After he got better, he insisted that Mercy travel and learn the world and its ways." She murmured, blue-green eyes watching him warily.
"Forgive my ignorance… I didn't know Khajiit were so devoted to their families." Ralof admitted, trying to smile and convince her to talk to him. He did have the stigmas that so many of his people held, but he was curious, and if she took him up on the suggestion to join the Stormcloaks, he wanted to be able to give her a solid recommendation.
"Few people know much, or even care, about the structures of Khajiit society, yes? No need to feel bad about it." She turned away, making it so he barely caught her next words: "So many hate the Khajiit, you probably want an Orc or another Nord, not filthy Mercy."
"Hey, now, I wouldn't have said it if I didn't mean it; the Stormcloaks could use your skill. And besides, I'm pretty sure you're cleaner than those Imperials we fought." He chided gently. That drew a laugh from her, a deep chuffing sound that set him slightly on edge.
"With all due respect, this one thinks you are crazy. Khajiit are thieves, addicts, not to be trusted. Every race of Man and Mer says so, so Mercy thinks they must either all be mad or they must all be right. Mercy just hasn't been around other Khajiit enough to learn, yes?" She shook her head, walking on down the road. Ralof stopped, stunned at her words; She hadn't had a condescending tone, or even a hateful sneer as she spoke. It was like she either didn't care what people thought of her, or she had heard the insults enough that she was beginning to believe them. He set his jaw, and quickened his pace to walk side by side with her.
"Well, maybe Men and Mer haven't met Khajiit who were willing to prove them wrong. Maybe Men and Mer haven't met Khajiit who helped them for no other reason than because they could."
Her hand on his chest stopped him.
"Maybe Khajiit are being shaped by what society has told us we are. Maybe we've been beaten and broken so many times that we no longer care, we merely want society to stop kicking us. Ralof of Riverwood, this one has seen your people kill hers for standing the wrong way or speaking at the wrong time. This one has seem Nords, Imperials, Bretons, Redguard, and every flavor of Mer abuse her people merely because we are seen as animals. Mercy was arrested for buying a fish and a doll and giving them to a Cathay cub, a young one like her, merely because she came inside the gate to purchase them. That is what my father wanted me to learn when he sent me from our secluded home in Elseweyr, yes? Don't act like this one can change how her people are seen and treated. I can't. I doubt even the gods can."
He hadn't realized how intimidating Khajiit fangs and claws could be. He stood still as Mercy stormed on down the path.
"You drop the 'this one' and such when you're angry, then?" He asked, thinking to perhaps divert to a different subject. Mercy hissed and rumbled unhappily, much like one of the housecats he'd seen in some of the southern villages.
"It is a bad habit. I- Mercy's father always fussed, saying it was not proper for her to talk as Imperials do. Not around anyone other than close family. He used to tell stories of a land where all peoples, humans, elves, Khajiit, Argonians, even dwarves and fey, stood on an even level, able to talk and act as they wished and expecting the same consequences no matter what they were, but he always ended with 'That's not how it is here, Mercy. Mind your tongue and mind your words.'"
"Such a place... sounds nice." Ralof conceded. Mercy sighed, stopping and waiting for him to keep walking.
She stopped talking to him after that, and he let the silence go. He'd been trying to prove her wrong about how his people judged hers, but he'd only proven her right. He did hope, though, that she would be proven wrong about being able to change the view of people as a whole.