She slipped out of the doorway, unperturbed of the dwarven sphere at her doorway. She almost laughed at its carelessness. It hadn't noticed her the past dozen times she'd walked by, and she wasn't even very great at sneaking. An Altmer wasn't good at sneaking. She was good at spells. She smiled to herself, moving past the motionless dwarven construct.
It was time to assassinate yet another falmer, to get food. Her stores were dwindling, and they were the only food available. As much as she hated it, it was a necessity. The only food here was the flesh of her cousins, warped as they were, and the taste of the meat sickened her. It couldn't be helped, though, as the mushrooms were deadly to ingest, as she had found in a history book long ago.
She was a younger Mer, so she learned from books and her elders, some of which were there when the Falmer were cast down. She shook her head. The snow elves didn't deserve it. But now, because of it, they were twisted. It was a saddening thing to see. The way the Dwemer had twisted these once graceful and beautiful creatures into blind shadows of themselves. It was a depressing thought. But, she needed to get on task, to move to where the Falmer were. There was an encampment close to where she was, and the scouting Falmer were usually easy to kill.
She froze as she heard a crunch of dirt under a boot. She turned to look, her amber eyes glistening in the light glow of the cavern. Behind her was another one of the once proud elves. She would have to find some way of killing it without her dagger. The sound of pulling it out would surely alert the pale-skinned creature.
The thing in front of her hissed quietly, then growled, uttering a string of syllables that was alien to her. It sniffed once, shook its head, then bounded off, its mettalic boots crunching on the pebbly dirt of the floor of the cavern. She dared not let out a sigh of relief, as the slightest of sounds could alert one of the quick-eared beasts. She slowly crept back, into a crevice, then drew her dagger stealthily, waiting for a moment when the time was right
One came along an hour later. It didn't hear her until her dagger was in its throat, silencing its screech with its enchanted blade, pulling out and stabbing again. Thank the gods for her strange enchanting learning. It had saved her life. That silence enchantment was useful. She also had learned a nifty alchemical potion to mask smell. She unbottled it and let the liquid drip down around the dead creature.
She picked up the dead creature, grunting quietly as she placed it over her shoulders and walked to her small, temporary residence in these halls. She lowered herself, sneaking, even though she was sure the thing couldn't see her unless it was up, but she didn't want to test that.
Once inside, she took her knife out, tossing the thing onto the metal slab that served as a table, slicing through its gut fits, pulling out the innards and tossing them into her fireplace, chopping off the head and placing that in the stone hole as well, a fire spell following after to burn the disgusting things to ash. She set to work slicing its skin into strips, casting a preservation spell on each one, to ensure that it didn't rot, and catching the blood in a large urn. Her operation complete, she took the bones and ground them, mixing the blood with them to create paste, then added the meat, shredded by her knife, to create her sustaining, if revolting, rations.
She sighed, pulling out a strip of meat. At least this one had the decency to provide her with a usable skin. She pulled her knife out, carving it to make the general shape of a water skin, taking some thread and stitching it together, badly. Leather working wasn't her strong suit. She shuddered, as she had the first time she had to resort to eating the Falmer. She preferred not to think on the fact that they were her cousins, that she was cannibalizing them, but she knew what she was doing... And she knew that she enjoyed it, if only a small amount.
She had fancied finding the cult of Namira, but she couldn't, and the one in Cyrrodil, though more open, wouldn't take someone as beautiful as her. The ideas of the cult fascinated her. The descent into the dark, the foul, that was a heady sensation, but one that she was scared to fall into. She had been thruster into it, though, and maybe that was what she had needed to follow her deeper desires. The Daedra supposedly could reach out to those they wished, and she was sure Namira did so with her.
She sighed, eating the strip of meat. Now would not be the time to ponder on it. Now would be a good time to get some sleep, and as much as she loathed it, a tomorrow filled with more reading on the Falmer. That book she had found had been invaluable, but it was so dry... But she told herself she would read it, so she would.
She ran her fingers over the sheet on her bed, then later down on it, her eyes closing and her mind drifting off to sleep. Her last thought was that while being dragonborn was fun, this was more relaxing, more enjoyable. It was more fulfilling, as if she was following her true purpose.
She woke, yawning, still tired from last night. She sat up, grabbing her cup and trudging to her urn, opening it and dipping the cup in, gathering the blood inside. She drank quickly, frowning at the taste. There must have been some older blood in there. She shook her head. Oh well.
She closed the urn, moving over to the ancient time on the Falmer, currently opened to the eighty second page. It was currently ending a chapter on Falmer clan organization, and she would be glad of finally finishing it. Being one of only three books she had, she had chosen the most difficult one first, to pass the time.
She read each word individually, copying down the translation in another, smaller book. The book she was reading was massive. Hundreds of pages, large as some shields, it took up quite a bit of space on her study table. She had already used one book and two vials of ink to make the translation, and broken one quill. It was slightly annoying, how unwieldy the thing was, but it was what she had to deal with.
A passage caught her eye, referring to the clan system and how the leaders were chosen. The book seemed to state that the creatures chose leaders based off of the most wise and learned, rather than the strongest. That must have come from their ancient elven heritage.
The book went on to describe various dry points, such as the court, and other menial descriptions. Something she didn't care for, but still wrote down. "Sevena, why do you torture yourself?" She asked herself ruefully, smiling and shaking her head. She continued reading and translating, on the last page, when she turned to the next.
Falmer Mating Customs and Falmer Territory. Oh, wow. They got straight to the point there. This would be an interesting chapter, to say the least, especially considering- Yes, that was an illustration depicting the females anatomy. If this section was as illustrated as the other one, then it would be interesting indeed. She giggled like an immature girl.