The Kitten and the Wolf
Chapter Six-Flustered
The trip back to Whiterun had been uneventful, which was a blessing considering the sun was well on its way to being set and Di'kana was already shivering with the coming night without her armor to protect her from the cold. Lydia wasted no time in starting a fire when they returned to the breezehome, helping her Thane out of her armor and into another layer of clothes over her rough tunic. Of course, she discovered the cut under her right arm in the process. In moments Lydia had her sitting in her chair in front of the fire, a fresh pot of stew set on to cook while housecarl moved to care for her Thane.
Di'kana was having trouble staying awake, even if the exposed part of her body was still cold. Lydia had made her remove her tunic to get at the wound, the rest of her wrapped up in a set of robes that reached the floor. She'd curled her tail to the right of her body, letting it hang limp as her energy left her. Lydia was making her raise her arm to get at the cut she'd suffered from the Falmer, scrubbing at it with a damp rag and sending another wave of pain that made her toes curl inside her boots, trying not to kick. It was over soon enough though, a fresh bandage getting wrapped tightly around her shoulder to keep it covered.
"It's pretty shallow." Lydia reported while helping her get her arm back through the sleeve of the robes. "I think you lost more fur than skin, but it's still safe to keep it covered for a day or two. Swinging overhand is gonna sting."
"Should grow back..." Di'kana muttered, trying to shrug but her ribs reminding her moving was not something she actually wanted to do. The potion had already worn off, or maybe the pain was just too much to be completely numbed by it. "White or black...?" She mused.
"Huh?" Lydia asked, getting up to check the pot over the fire and stir it.
"When this one was young, lost fur grew back black. Cuts, skinned knees, all of that sort... but more recent scars seem to grow back white or gray fur, like the markings on this one's face." Her left hand fumbled to draw a bit of the robe back, showing off four long streaks of white on her left leg, along the outside of the calf muscle. "When this one escaped Helgen, there was a bear. Where it clawed grew back white, after it was given time to heal."
"Don't tell me those markings on your face and chest are scars, too?" Lydia asked as Di'kana carefully rearranged herself to be covered by the robe again. It was still too cold in the house for her.
She chuckled, shaking her head as laughing made her wince. "No, no. This one was born with a white throat and chest, and grew into the little white markings. Mother called them moon and stars, once. The gray rings, this one also grew into." She looked down at herself, feeling her ears drop back in a pose similar to that of her limply hanging tail. She felt as if she were going to fall asleep in her chair. "Dinner, and then rest, yes? This day is done..."
"Do you want me to go to Jorrvaskr for you and tell them your task is completed?" Lydia asked. "You should probably stay down for a while and let your ribs heal."
"No." Di'kana shook her head. "This one will go and tell them, tomorrow morning."
Lydia was silent for a moment, well aware of what else her mistress meant without saying. "You're not gonna stay down and rest, are you?"
"Tonight, rest. Tomorrow, this one must work. This one insisted on this task; they must believe I completed it perfectly."
The housecarl sighed, looking down at the stew pot with a tight frown. Di'kana knew she was considering telling her no; thinking about trying to order her to bed rest. She also knew that would never happen; Lydia was a caregiver, but she was no master. When she looked up again, it was with defeat on her face. "Shall I go and replace your armor while the shops are still open, Thane? No doubt the blacksmith will have something similar to what you had before."
Di'kana nodded slightly. "Take coin from the chest in the lab." She agreed. "This one will stay here."
Lydia nodded, giving the pot an extra stir before putting the lid back on and vanishing to do as she'd been asked. A moment later she was back and out the door. Di'kana watched her go, almost feeling bad for what she put her housecarl through. All Lydia did was worry about her, care for her, and do her best to make sure they both saw the next day after every venture out of the city. They'd been from Dawnstar to Riften together, and Di'kana could recognize those trips would have been much more difficult, if not impossible, on her own. Still, there were some things Lydia simply could not help with; the new path she had chosen was one of them. It would have been nice to rest for a few extra days, until it didn't hurt to breathe anymore, but it was like growing up with the caravan. If you hurt yourself you still had to keep up; making everyone else stop just because you got hurt was selfish and irresponsible. Better that no one even find out you'd been hurt in the first place.
She'd return to Jorrvaskr in the morning. Skjor had a task for her, and there was no way she would hold up the show over bruised ribs.
With that thought in mind, she let her head slump down on her chest. Lydia would have to wake her up when dinner was ready.
"There you are, Kitten. What kept you?"
Di'kana was at Jorrvaskr a little later than she had planned. She'd slept longer than intended, and getting into the new breast and backplate Lydia had picked up for her had taken longer with her sore shoulder and ribs. Where she had meant to be there at sunrise, it was several hours after when she finally arrived and decided to try and enter through the entrance from the yard, hoping she'd garner less attention. Even that plan had backfired though; Skjor had been in the yard and noticed her before she could retreat back around the corner.
"This one fought the Falmer for Farkas. There was a Centurion. Coming back late, this one decided to rest." She stepped up, accepting that she'd already been caught and trying to play it off like nothing was wrong. "You wanted to see this one for something?"
"I did." Skjor confirmed without another word on how long she'd taken to get back to him. "Your time, it seems, has come."
He said that with some odd finality. Cocking her head a little to the side she asked, "What do you mean?"
"Last week a scholar came to us." Skjor explained. "He said he knew where we could find another fragment of Wuuthrad. He seemed a fool to me, but if he's right the honor of the Companions demands that we seek it out."
"Wuuthrad?" Di'kana asked.
"The legendary weapon of Ysgramor, founder of the Companions." Skjor answered. "When you first came to us, and I pointed you to the stairs under the mounted fragments on the wall? Those are the fragments we have collected so far. It is our honor to seek them all."
"And this one shall do what, knowing this?"
"This is a simple errand, but the time is right for it to be your trial." Skjor grew serious now, his voice severe and his face more-so. "Carry yourself with honor, and you'll become a true Companion."
She nodded slightly. Now was the time for the true test.
"Farkas will be your Shield-Sibling on this venture, Kitten." Skjor continued. "He'll answer any questions you have. Try not to disappoint, or to get him killed."
Di'kana responded this time with a much tighter nod; defined by tension. Farkas had been far from her mind after the beating she'd taken yesterday, but mere mention of him reminded her both of how she'd been eying him up the day before, and the fact that he hadn't noticed. Something about that made her uneasy in the strangest way, but she didn't argue with Skjor. Instead she asked, "Where is he?"
"Inside, somewhere." Skjor answered with a shrug. "Either at the table or in his chamber down below."
Again she nodded, feeling like her heart was pounding against her breastplate. "This one will do her best." She said, turning around to enter Jorrvaskr while hoping that Farkas was upstairs. Everyone else would be there; it would be less awkward if others were around, right? If she had to go looking for him down stairs, alone, when all she could think about was how she'd practically been undoing his armor with her eyes without his notice...
Please be upstairs. Please be on the main level.
Several of the Companions were on the main level, seated at the table around the fire pit and either talking, eating, or both. These people all seemed to have a downright wolfish appetite, though she hardly had room to talk after how much she'd put down last night after being injured. Probably just came with the territory of doing various dangerous deeds for pay; adventuring was like that. Still, as she scanned the room she felt her heart dropping. She didn't see Farkas. She did, however, see Aela. Maybe she was just stalling, but she decided to come down to where the huntress was sitting. "Morning." She said, trying her best at a cheerful greeting.
"Kitten!" Aela laughed, turning from a conversation she'd been having with Vilkas. "Took you long enough to come back to us; some were worried you'd gotten scared off. Skjor was looking for you earlier, you know."
"This one just spoke with him." Di'kana answered. "Where is Farkas?"
"Lazy Whelp is sleeping in." Aela answered. "Stayed up late, in case you showed up to report back to us. I told him not to worry about it, but..." She rolled her eyes. "You know, men."
"Stubborn ox?" Di'kana suggested.
"And half as smart." Aela agreed.
"That's my brother you're talking about, there." Vilkas threw in from Aela's other side. "He's smarter than he looks, you know."
"You kidding?" Aela shook her head. "You've got all the brains between the two of you, Vilkas, and Farkas has the brawn. Even trade, of course, but you can't fight the fact that he's not the sharpest blade at the forge."
"He did not seem that bad to this one..." Di'kana muttered, unsure of which side to take in this. Of course, she was still stalling. Maybe she could just wait it out here; Farkas had to get up eventually, right? On the other hand, she hated waiting...
"Why are you looking for him?" Aela asked. "Just to report back? You can do that after you handle whatever Skjor gave you; lummox should be up by then."
"Skjor said Farkas is to be this one's Shield-Sibling for this job."
"Really?" Vilkas sounded a little surprised, but then shrugged. "You should go wake him, then. No point in sleeping when there's work to be done. He's had enough hours, at any rate. His room is downstairs; right hall, left side."
Di'kana felt her ears falling; a reminder that she'd forgotten her helm at home. That or maybe she just hadn't put it on because it hurt to reach up. Now there was no excuse. With a nod and a brief mention of "Thanks" she moved for the stairs, wondering if she hadn't just made matters worse somehow... Aela and Vilkas were watching her as she went. They must have noticed her change in mood; it was impossible when her body language displayed everything so clearly. Still, she did her best to think positive.
This wouldn't be awkward unless she made it awkward. She was the only one who knew what she'd been doing, after all. All she had to do was not act like a kitten with a crush; simple as that.
Descending the stairs and opening the door, she nearly ran right into to the old maid who was constantly rushing around. Tilmo, she remembered. The woman who took care of the warriors and their messes. She only acknowledged her with a nod, moving on before she could be stopped in any conversation. If one more person called her Kitten while she was in this state of mind, she was going to start another fight.
Right hallway, left side, she was faced with a closed door. Ears pinned forward, she could hear slow breathing, soft snoring, through the door. Like the home of any creature, human or otherwise, the occupant's scent was thick and clear in the air. It didn't help with the way her mind was operating, or the fact that her heart wanted to be beating in her throat for some reason. She tried shaking her head, like the day before, to get rid of such thinking. Sadly, it didn't work. Her mind was stuck, and it was time to get moving. One thing Aela and Vilkas had noticed was her changed mood; the other thing they might notice was how long it took her and Farkas to come back upstairs. Taking too much time would mean more teasing, implications, and rumors. Like any family, they wouldn't know where to stop with a joke... and they'd never know how right they were on her count.
Pulling the door open, she peeked her head in. The room was fairly simple, about the same size of her bedroom back home. Her eyes only did a quick sweep, noting a great many bottles of mead stored throughout the room, before lighting on the bed in the corner.
The bed was big enough for one, but with his broad shoulders it looked too small for him. Oh yes, he was there, sound asleep and turned toward the wall. A few candles on a table provided light, though they were heavily burnt down from being left lit for too long. Either way, the glow they provided made a delightful contrast between golden light and black shadow, letting her take in an image that would both please and embarrass her for hours. Farkas wore no armor, nor shirt, nor much else as he snoozed away. As she'd seen before his body was a wonderful example of human musculature, even in this more relaxed state. There were furs on his bed, but he slept atop them, laying in a way that was defenseless and exposed.
Fur from the tip of her tail to the top of her spine stood up as high as it could, armor permitting along her back, as her ears dropped just as far in shock at the sight. The human races had always looked just a little too naked to her, but this was putting a whole new spin on the idea. She wasn't sure what to do; this was much worse than watching him while he practiced, and she hadn't even meant to do this! Maybe she'd just slam the door shut and hope the noise woke him- but what if it didn't? Tilmo was down here; she'd probably come and ask what was going on, and trying to explain seemed a bit beyond her capacity right now.
Her eyes were working while her brain failed her, still looking at him with incredible fascination. She'd been right; his armor had been hiding many scars. His skin held evidence of several healed wounds from all manner of blades and creatures. Curiosity encouraged her to touch such things, to experience them in a more tactile manner, but she remained frozen in the doorway as fretting over what to do left her locked in place.
She'd have to wake him up herself. Letting herself in, she shut the door behind her. No reason for Tilmo to see this just because she was passing by outside. Then, coming to his bedside, she reached out to grab and shake his shoulder. Simple enough, so long as she kept her eyes on his face.
He tried to shrug her off at first, but stopped when he realized the hand on his shoulder was fuzzy. The moment he stopped trying to resist and moved to get up, she let go and turned around. Not that hiding her face did her any good; the bottle-brush tail said everything about her current state that one would usually infer from her expression.
There were a few moments of silence. She could hear him as he sat up, the bed creaking under his weight, and then stopped. He was probably experiencing a bit of brain lock too.
After a few moments, he laughed. "Vilkas sent you on wake-up call, huh? Saw a little more than you wanted to, eh Kitten?"
"Skjor says we have a job to do, as Shield-Siblings."
"Yeah, I know, he told me about it yesterday after you went to go take care of the Falmer. How'd that go, by the way?" She could hear him moving again, and eventually found herself facing the wall as not to look at him while he got dressed. "Ah, hell, who ever heard of a modest Khajiit? Sorry Vilkas didn't warn you; almost every room down here has a fireplace so it's warm down here at night. Sometimes too warm."
"Not modest, respectful." She corrected, her back beginning to feel stiff from the tension. She felt like her whole body had clenched up. "The Falmer are taken care of, as this one promised. This one apologizes for not coming back last night... there was a Centurion. It was good to rest."
"It get a piece of you?" He asked, the sounds of straps and armor hitting her ears and causing her to relax a little. Very little.
"Do you see any pieces missing?" She asked dryly, not wanting to tell the truth.
"I donno, I don't think you'd like me performinga full inspection." He chuckled again. "That is, unless you're into that sort of thing."
Any fur that had managed to flatten when right back to bristled, the various muscles on her head involved in moving her ears about beginning to ache for just how far they were trying to slump down, her shoulders coming up as she crossed her arms over her chest. "This one is fine." She assured, turning around and finding him mostly dressed, tightening the straps on the side of his breastplate and sliding gauntlets on. "You, however, are asking for another beating."
"Oh really?" His voice went to a teasing tone. "You're gonna talk tough, even after I let you have the last one?"
"There was fight left on both sides." She answered. "This one is curious who would have prevailed."
"We'll find out, one of these days." He finished with his armor, hefting a great sword that had been laid on one of the tables to holster it on his back. "But today we're on the same side, so watch it, Sister."