15th of Last Seed, 4E 201
As Juniper came closer and closer to Windhelm, the best word she could think of to describe the weather was obnoxious. Sure, Cyrodiil had winter. But the winds here blatantly ignored any number of layers one could wear, chilling her to the bone. Looking at her hands made her laugh a bit despite herself- she was even more blue than usual.
Still, silver linings. Whenever, she had lent a thought to Skyrim in the past, she assumed it was all snow all the time, but that wasn't the case. Eastmarch was almost as strange as anything one would expect to come across in Morrowind. The land itself hissed and roiled with hydrothermal activity and had creeper roots and dragon tongue emerging from every crack. She tried her best to commit every detail to memory between close calls with wolves, bandits, and even a herd of mammoths.
The sun was beginning to set by the time she reached the city stables. She couldn't imagine that this stone behemoth of a city was ever particularly inviting, even by the light of day. Just walking into the city itself was an ordeal. The stone ground was slick with ice and packed snow, and she had to catch herself several times before she reached the front gate. One of the guards posted out front held out a hand, grasping his weapon with the other.
"You another refugee?" The guard, by the sound of it, couldn't have been older than eighteen.
"Yeah, you could say that," Juniper sighed, teeth chattering. "Just looking for a place to stay for a few days."
"Is that so?" The other guard spoke up then, and was clearly the more experienced of the pair. "Why the boots?"
"Excuse me?"
"Those are Imperial-made boots, stranger. No real tread on 'em. Ain't very good for walking on ice, huh?"
It took a moment for her to understand his meaning. Once she did, she chuckled nervously and looked down at her feet.
"Oh, these old things? Yeah, makes sense that they'd be Imperial boots. I had to kill an Imperial to get them, after all." She rounded off her words with a casual smile of camaraderie. It felt refreshing to not need a lie to get herself out of trouble.
"That's… impressive," admitted the younger guard, who even at his age stood a good head and shoulders taller than her.
"Hmph," the older guard snorted. "Walk carefully in our city, gray-skin. Getting some proper boots'll be a good start."
Juniper gave a nod to the pair as she passed, the name leaving a sour taste in her mouth. Still, she tried to brush it off.
Unfortunately, her surroundings went from micro-aggression to full-on aggression real quick. Upon entry, she saw a Dunmer woman, slender and moderately well-dressed, being menaced by two Nords who each had a bottle in hand.
"You come here where you're not wanted, you eat our food, you pollute the city with your stink, and you refuse to help the Stormcloaks!"
The wildly gesticulating man was red in the face, partially from the yelling and partially from the multitude of gin blossoms peppering his complexion.
"We haven't picked a side because it's not our fight!" The woman insisted, managing to hold her ground. Juniper had to admire her poise in this situation. However, she had a sneaking suspicion that this was hardly an isolated incident as they continued to volley accusations.
"Hey," slurred his friend, "maybe the reason these gray-skins don't help in the war is because they're Imperial spies!"
The woman's eyes went wide.
"Imperial spies? You can't be serious!"
The first man shuffled even closer, eyes glazed over and hungry. She could tell he was the leader, the other man simply his toady. The whole sight boiled her blood but froze her body in place.
"Maybe we'll pay you a visit tonight, little spy... we got ways of finding out who you really are."
As the pair walked away, Juniper stepped out of the shadows and laid a hand on the woman's shoulder, making her jump in the process.
"Looked like those Nords we're giving you trouble," she remarked apologetically.
The woman gave a tremendous sigh, her shoulders sagging ever so slightly.
"Nothing new there. Most of the Nords living in Windhelm don't care much for us, but Rolff is the worst by far. He likes to get drunk and walk around the Gray Quarter yelling insults at us in the small hours of the morning." Her expression hardened as she seemed to suddenly notice her own vulnerability. "A real charmer, that one."
"Why would anyone think you're a spy?"
As soon as she asked, she could tell she had immediately outed herself as a foreigner.
"Some of these Nords will come up with any excuse to despise us," the woman complained through gritted teeth. "And it isn't just the dark elves they hate - they make a target of the Argonians as well. In fact, just about anyone who isn't a Nord is fair game for their bullying."
Shaking her head, Juniper had to do her best to make light of things instead of allowing regret to set in.
"First the guards at the gate, then those guys... is immigrant hatred a buddy system here?"
The woman's laughter was a surprise, especially to herself by the looks of it. While still not considerably old for a Dunmer, life in Windhelm had clearly weathered her. After a moment, she snapped back into her usual resigned demeanor.
"Strength in numbers, I suppose... probably best you don't stay here very long. Slums have a way of keeping you stuck."
"Well… I was hoping to find work, odd jobs at the very least. And back where I'm from, there aren't too many of, you know, us."
"You know, you might be just the person I'm looking for then!" The woman dared to light up again. "I run things down at the docks, and I need someone to make smaller deliveries to homes and such in the city. Tell me, are you quick on your feet?"
Juniper grinned. "The quickest."
"Well then… I don't normally go out on a limb like this, but consider yourself hired- um-oh," she apologized, "I didn't even ask you your name, did I?"
"Oh, I uh-" Juniper stammered, trying to choose her words carefully, "most people just call me J. And you are...?"
"Suvaris. A pleasure to meet you, Jay. For what it's worth, welcome to Windhelm." She clapped Juniper on the back with surprising strength. "Why don't you come down to the New Gnisis Cornerclub with me? I can introduce to some of the other folks in the Gray Quarter, grab you a drink."
"As long as this cornerclub of yours has an empty bed, I'm game," Juniper responded with a beleaguered sigh.
"Ah. It's not an inn, unfortunately. You'll have to try Candlehearth Hall right up ahead. As long as you've got the coin, they supposedly don't pay us much mind."
"Good to know. I'll probably be in town a few days, so how about a rain check on that drink?"
"Sounds like a deal. See you around, Jay."
As Suvaris turned the corner towards what was assumedly the Gray Quarter, Juniper rushed towards the warmth of the inn. One brief, cold reception with the innkeeper later, she was curled up in a chair by the hearth, gratefully scarfing down some grilled leeks and rabbit meat. Not one to give up old habit though, she still cased out everyone in the room. Thankfully, most just seemed like old barflies having a drink after a long day.
One rugged man sitting in the corner, however, did catch her eye. He was alone, heavily armored, and seemed as keenly aware of his surroundings as she was, though his energy wasn't aggressive or twitchy by any means. An unexpectedly warm smile spread across his face as his twinkling blue eyes set upon her, which she couldn't help but return before resuming her dinner. An intriguing character, for sure. Satisfied that no one in the tavern posed a threat to her, she decided to take a stab at wooing the barmaid before bed.
"Mind you don't play fresh with Susanna," chided the innkeeper when Juniper headed past the bar towards her room, "she plays the flirt, but it's just to get good tips."
"Oh I know that, don't you worry," Juniper laughed good-naturedly over her shoulder before shutting her door.
She was immensely grateful for the opportunity to bathe for the first time in the better part of a week. The beads of cool water made her shiver when they rolled down to her lower back. Once her body seemed properly clean, she leaned over the basin to splash water on her face and noticed her dim reflection.
Elves were well known for their sharp, protruding chins and brow bones. Yet many aspects of her face were unusually small and rounded, from the heart shape of her jaw to the concave slope of her nose. She had always suspected there was some other heritage mixed in with her elven blood. There was no way of knowing for sure though.
If nothing else, the deep blue-gray of her skin was quintessentially Dunmer, not to mention the high cheekbones and completely black eyes. But what her fingers were drawn to, as they had been many times before, was the strange symbol left in scar tissue on her right cheek. She tried in vain to glean any memory from it besides white hot pain. This habitual defeat frustrated her.
She finished washing her face and flopped down on the bed, a heady exhale escaping her lips. Tomorrow, she would find a way to eke out a new life in this cold land.