Astien is obviously my own OC based on Our Hero, and Ruin is a story-based Argonian companion character from a popular mod that I suggest you try out. Takes place a few days after dropping Martin off at Cloud Ruler (which is where I am, so don't spoil anything after that, please).
"Ladies and Gentlemen of the Imperial City..."
It was all strikingly cued. The powerful roar of the announcer only appearing to drown out everything from a conversation to footsteps to the creak of the door, as if everything had been waiting for this one person to open it and watch.
Of course, at the moment of his entrance, Astien wasn't thinking of any such thing. It was all too insiginifcant to analyze, and he had more than enough anaylzation to think about lately. He'd prefer not to.
"Welcome! To the Arena!"
The crowd (with the exception of the people on the very same balcony) roared, and Astien moved towards it's right side, keeping his head toward the ground and his pace with his companion. He had been in the middle of a conversation, after all.
"Leaving was smart, Ruin," he stated, looking towards his party member. "There were at least a dozen others in the following rooms, and I don't like being outnumbered."
"Of course, my friend," replied the companion. "I don't believe anyone would like being outnumbered 6 to 1. I was just noting that you seem to have lost some of your previous confidence. From what I know of you, we would normally have run in with swords swinging and little care for our lives or future well-beings. What it is that has changed?"
Astien frowned in thought, and stopped walking long enough to slump against the nearest chair. The companion moved to stand motionless behind him, not unlike a protective statue.
"I don't know," he said, after a short pause. turning the chair around enough so that he could continue to look at his companion while speaking. He silently sighed, and instinctively shrugged his shoulders for emphasis before continuing. "Not confidence, though."
"What makes you sure?" asked the companion, remaining as motionless as before. "It is not wrong of you to fear the idea of dea-"
He stopped speaking at the distinct sound of a gate clicking and swinging open, his eyes then drawn to Astien, who had looked away from his companion to stare at the arena platform below. His voice, he realized, would probably have been drowned out by the sound of the crowd regardless.
"Hmm," he said, simply, although it wasn't really clear whether it was to show disapproval, thought, or irritation. Astien merely stared intently as the warriors walked in from the gate and rushed toward eachother, and he leaned forward until his chin was resting on a fist.
There was a beat, a silent clash of weapons and spraying of blood from below, before the Breton suddenly looked away from the fight and grabbed one of the bottles of wine from the nearbly table. The warriors below prepared their next attacks, while Astien vaguely waved the bottle at apparently nothing.
"Yellow Team won't win," he said, as if he was doing nothing. "The Blue Team Gladiator is faster, has lighter armor, and he has a weapon that fits his needs."
"I know many things about you," said the companion, somewhere between amused and sarcastic. "I didn't know you were a drunkard, however."
Astien turned back around long enough to give his companion a vague, puzzled look.
"I'm not, Ruin," he said, simply, absently placing the bottle back onto the table, where it rolled off into a nearby wall. He ignored it, eyes turning away from the would-be distraction and back to the fight below.
"Why do you enjoy this sport, friend?" said Ruin, eventually, softly but firmly, over the roar of the crowd and the continued movement of the fighters below. "Or participate in it? It is unnecessary and viscreal... a series of sacrifices with no meaning. What purpose do you find in it?"
Astien turned away from the fight to stare at his companion, somewhat understanding but with the same intensity, and Ruin continued before he could form a response.
"I know it is not money, and you have already proven that you are not much of a gambler these days. I have seen your feelings on death," he said, and Astien unconsciously looked in another direction at those last words, preferring to stare at something else as he spoke, "and from your focus on unnecessary distractions, I can only conclude that you do not merely enjoy the carnage. That leaves an interesting conundrum, and a distinct lack of possibilities. So tell me, what do you get out of this, if not money or base entertainment?"
"I..."
"You do not know, of course," he continued, smiling vaguely. Astien, frustrated, spun around his chair to stare at the battle again, where the Blue Team Gladiator had just lost his sword. "I know enough about you, about people in general, to understand that you to know that you do not always make the most logical decisions. You live at the whim of the moment, on your self-created traditions that create your decisions for you. It's not so much an enjoyment of the viscreality of the fight as the reassurance that other people do not mind the same viscreality that permeates your life and it's meaning."
The Blue Team Gladiator moved to grab his sword, and that advantage was enough for the Yellow Team's Gladiator to end the fight. The Blue Team Gladiator slid uselessly against the pillar they had been fighting near, and Astien clenched his hands into fists. He stood up, turned towards his friend, and firmly grabbed him by the shoulders.
"No," he stated, staring him straight in the eyes. "I just like winning, and that's all."
"The Yellow Team has won!" the announcer roared, as Astien released his grip and left, deciding not to go to the Arena in the future.