A/N: Sorry I didn't post much this weekend! I had a football game Friday and band practice nearly all day Saturday. I also apologize that this chapter isn't very eventful. I will have more exciting work next weekend, and maybe even Thursday. Either way, thanks for reading!
"I was summoned to High Hrothgar almost immediately after killing the dragon that attacked Whiterun," Conlan admits. "I don't want to get into details. I relive that night and the day I saw the black dragon in my nightmares. That's a tale for me to tell when I'm ready."
We were making a camp near the border of the Pale and Winterhold. I wish we could have gone back to the house, but Conlan was insisting the urgency of this journey.
"I've noticed your skills in destruction magic. You must have been a mage before you lost it," he suggests.
"I highly doubt it," I respond. I know there was no magic back at home, unless you consider the internet magical. If so, then maybe I was a wizard.
"Well I don't know much about magic, but if you keep practicing, your magicka could become stronger," Conlan says. "If you do get stronger, then you'll save me energy from teaching you how to use a blade."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Well, for starters, you could barley hold the thing when I handed it to you," Conlan says as a ribald. Realizing I was annoyed, he decides to waste no more time bickering. "If you enchanted your armor to make your magicka stronger, that'd impress me."
"I'll work on it," I lie. I'll steal gold from him and hire someone to put the enchantments on for me.
...
"Now why are you taking me with you to High Hrothgar? I thought my job was to watch over your daughters?"
The following morning, we were to take a road south to the east side of the Throat of the World to Ivarstead, which was the village that sat at the bottom of the tallest mountain in Tamriel. High Hrothgar sits on the top of the mountain, and Paarthurnax, the leaders of the Greybeards, happens to sit at it's peak. Conlan doesn't know that, yet. Nor will he guess that Paarthurnax is a dragon, neither.
As of right now, we were finishing poorly made salmon steak. Conlan has a bottle of mead in his hands, living up to the warning Sven gave me earlier. He offered me a bottle as well, but I decided it would be best to taste test alcohol when I'm alone rather than in a VRRPG.
"It's not healthy to be housebound. You'll be even crazier than when I first found you cowering from that frostbite spider," Conlan smiles.
"My memory loss and temporary insanity isn't something I find funny," I defend myself. "Neither wouldn't we find it funny if you had the same case as I did."
Conlan huffs, "You could've just asked for me to stop."
"Really?" I stop forcing the fish down my virtual esophagus, and stare at him. Conlan stops too. "Would you have listened?"
"Neither of us can answer that because it never happened," he argues.
"No. You know because I'm asking if you would, not if you could."
"You have a point," he states. He turns to grab his knapsack from behind the log he was sitting on. He pulls out his dragon priest mask, and pulls it over his head. "If you could see my face under this mask, it's not caring so much."
Wow. No wonder he has the soul of a dragon. He's just about as sinister as one.
"Speaking of that mask," I attempt to change the topic. "Who did you kill to get it?"
"Why do you believe I killed someone for it? Didn't I explain this to you before back at the house?"
Oh yeah. While I was lost in your stupid eyes because of your stupid face and you're stupid you stupid Dragonborn.
"Sorry, I must have forgot," I lie.
"Your memory is awful. Make sure I don't ask you to hold onto something for me because you'll probably lose it," he continues eating.
"Volskygge," he finally answers.
"Where is that?" I ask.
"Near Solitude. I killed some draugr and a dragon priest for it," he mutters.
"Thank you for telling me," I smile.
"You ought get yourself one," he suggests. I take it as a compliment, until he finishes. "That way I don't have to deal with seeing your ridiculous facial expressions all the time."
Don't worry, I definitely regret ever laying eyes on yours.
I excuse myself to rest, even though I know I will have another sleepless night tonight.
"Fine, I'll keep watch first. You can take over in five hours, or once I'm tired. Whichever comes first," he suggests.
I agree, even though I know I still can't defend myself very well in argument or in terms of literal defense, other than casting a novice spell.
I'm going to need some practice.
