They were at it again. Honestly, Kirskja was beginning to wonder if they were doing it just to annoy her. The constant flirting between Brynjolf and Karliah on the missions was making her consider going solo. And it wasn't just on missions, but in the Cistern and Ragged Flagon as well. No one dared to speak up about it for fear of pissing off Brynjolf and getting put on the worst jobs. Kirskja could tell them off, but it didn't feel right to be angry at them, especially Karliah. She couldn't have known how Kirskja felt about him.
"What do ya say, lass? Care to grab a drink with us?" Kirskja looked up to see Brynjolf with a large smile, and it took her a moment to process his request. With a small smile she could barely muster, she shook her head.
"Not this time. I'm heading back to Whiterun." His brow furrowed just a bit as she gathered her things into a pack.
"Again? What's in Whiterun that's so important to ya?" The question made her stomach clench, though she'd decided long ago it didn't matter if he knew. She pulled her hood on, feeling the magick seep into her blood.
"Seriously, Bryn? That's where her home is." One of the passing thieves, Rune, snorted as he made his way out of the Cistern, and Brynjolf went slacked jawed. She sighed, moving towards the hidden entrance.
"Wait, wait…" He took her arm, forcing her to face him. Just past his shoulder, she could see Karliah giving them a strange look. It struck Kirskja as a form of jealousy, and she swallowed her own. "Why didn't you mention you had a home?" Looking up at him, she shrugged.
"You never asked." She turned away before he could say anything else, hurrying towards the exit. As soon as fresh air hit her face, she felt better. It wasn't long before she had her horse from the stables and was riding toward home.
It took her nearly a full day to return, the sun on the verge of setting as she entered the city walls. More than once she'd been stopped by bandits and animals, having to take the time to clean blood off her armor and blade more often than she'd liked. Now, as she shuffled towards her house, she couldn't wait to collapse into her bed of furs and sleep for the next few hours. A few people waved and said hello, which she replied to as kindly as she could muster.
The next morning, Kirskja took a walk through the town, stopping to chat with a few of the merchants she was more familiar with and telling stories to a few of the children in the market place. The socializing didn't last long, and soon she found herself in front of the one building she hadn't been in yet: Jorrvaskr, the home of the Companions. There were stories of them, of course. They were a group of warriors for hire; more prestigious than mercenaries, but able to be bought with the right amount of money. Kirskja only hesitated to consider whether they would find her Nightingale armor threatening before deciding to enter anyway. Inside was the largest indoor hearth she'd ever seen, along with fine wooden furnishings. The smell of leather and food, tinged with metal, filled the air. Off to one side, it appeared there was a brawl happening, with a few others cheering from the sides. She stepped in quietly, watching with interest.
"What's the issue here?" She leaned to ask the man closest to her. He turned, and automatically she was quick to size him up. He was large, with a great sword in the scabbard across his back and fine armor over his muscled body. He would be a difficult opponent in a fair fight, and certainly difficult to pickpocket. He seemed to size her up as well, before meeting her gaze.
"A test of strength based on a wager." His voice was deep and a bit gruff, as though he didn't use it very often, and she nodded. Such things were not unheard of; she would have been more surprised if things like this didn't happen in a hall full of trained fighters. Even the thieves had their little contests, though usually at someone else's expense. It ended quickly enough and the crowd dispersed while the two warriors sat to tend each other's wounds.
"You mind if I ask you a question or two?" The man turned to face her fully, crossing his arms across his chest. He nodded and she offered a smile and a hand. "First up, what's your name, friend?" He seemed to hesitate before taking her hand, giving a surprisingly gentle shake.
"Farkas. You?" He released her hand, and she stuck them in the pockets of her leggings.
"Kirskja. Nice to meet you." He nodded again, and she waited a beat before continuing. "So, can you tell me about the Companions?" He looked surprised by her question, and she could see his gaze darting around as though looking for help. It seemed he truly wasn't used to talking much; in an unusual bout of pity, she gave a warm smile. "Maybe I should be asking whoever is in charge. Care to point him out?" That seemed to relax him a bit and he pointed to a set of stairs.
"Downstairs, to the end of the long corridor." She nodded her understanding and gave a small wave before heading that way. He gave an awkward one back, and she could feel his gaze on her as she descended.