Our hero, our hero

Loots the chests for neat stuff,

I tell you, I tell you,

The Dragonborn comes,

With the hands wielding power

Of the ancient pick art...

Kiara paused, both to catch her breath and to figure out how to continue her impromptu song. She never completed that last task, however, for her attention was suddenly captured by a sour-faced young woman in a green cowl strutting down the street towards the Bards' College. 'Why helloooooo there, Aia my friend!' she called out, racing up to her and blocking her way with a toothy smile of greeting. 'Long time no see! Is Pantea around? I have her flute; goll-eee, the things Barbas and I went through to get hold of it! He stayed behind to get some therapy in the Temple of Kynareth; and I've been combing cobwebs out of my hair for hours... Actually, I think I may still have them stuck in there'.

'You do,' Aia replied, without parting her pursed lips. 'How did you ever manage to get on Pantea's good side?'

'I did?' Kiara asked, raising her eyebrows incredulously. 'Last time I talked to her, she sounded like her usual Stop-wasting-my-time self'.

Aia glared at her. 'Stop pretending!' she exclaimed, her eyes gleaming with tears of frustration. 'Pantea is supposed to sing at one of those parties they give at the Thalmor Embassy, and Emissary Elenwen allowed her to take along her most gifted apprentice... And she chose you! You!' Her voice was now almost a shriek. 'Instead of me!'

Kiara whistled, 'So that was Delphine's plan...'

'Who's Delphine?' Aia frowned. 'Ah, nevermind - this is not about some random semi-imaginary friend of yours...'

'I wouldn't call Delphine that,' Kiara cut in. 'She has ears everywhere. And these ears might get offended'.

Aia went on, completely disregarding her remark, 'This is about you and me. Ever since you turned up on the College's doorstep, you have been ruining my life! I am the best student here, and I used to get all the attention I deserve - but now everyone goes on and on about you! It's always Kiara this and Kiara that; Kiara has been so helpful with the Burning of King Olaf; Kiara has such a wonderful singing voice; Kiara was absolutely brilliant as the Dunmer sorceress in the College's production of A Hypothetical Treachery, especially in the last scene with Viarmo... They all adore you, and you haven't got half as much talent or diligence as me! Pantea used to be the only one to see reason - but now she has fallen under your spell too! Why - why do you insist on making me miserable?!'

Kiara reached out in attempt to give Aia a hug, with a soothing 'There, there'; Aia backed away, shaking Kiara's hands off her shoulders, chest heaving, eyes flaring beneath knitted eyebrows. Suddenly remembering a completely different person stunning her with very similar accusations, the expression of his face almost identical, Kiara let out a deep, slightly sorrowful sigh, 'What is it with you people that you all think I am out to get you?!'

Aia most certainly had much to say on the subject, but she was never given the chance to do so, for at that moment they were joined by Taarie, who, appearing to have sprung out of nowhere, put her arm unobtrusively round Kiara's waist and drew her away from the indignant young bard, smiling tactfully, 'If you don't mind, I'd like to steal your friend here away for a while. You may go on with scratching out her eyes when I am done with her'.

'Are you really going to perform at the Emissary's party?' she asked in an urgent whisper, as soon as they were out of Aia's earshot.

Kiara shrugged, 'Looks like it. I am always the last to know about these things. You want me to get Elenwen's autograph for you?'

Taarie moved her index finger significantly from side to side, 'You are notsetting one foot inside the Embassy in this abhorrent garb of yours. These are the Thalmor we are talking about! The embodiment of perfection! If you insist on showing yourself to them wrapped in some grimy, smelly leather, you will disgrace your College - no, your whole race!'

'I forged this armour myself,' Kiara muttered, pouting. 'And what will you have me wear?'

'Wait and see,' Taarie smiled mysteriously.

'Oh gods, this is socool!' Kiara craned her neck to an almost humanly impossible extent to examine the gently rustling waves of blue cloth into which Taarie had plunged her. 'I just have one tincy-windy question,' Her voice, initially shrill and cheerful as usual, gradually grew hoarse, as if she was being strangled, 'How do you breathe in this thing?' 'You don't,' Endarie said curtly. 'Not with all this lard on you'.

The corners of Kiara's mouth slid down, 'I quit having brunch last week. Besides, I'm not that fat. I'm an adventurer, I move about a lot - so I think I earn all these yummies. By the way, have you tried mixing fresh snow with milk and berry juice? The snow has to be clean, of course; because, well...'

'Stand still,' Taarie snapped, pushing the last strand of her self-picked customer's flyaway black hair beneath the trailing white cap that she had somehow managed to mount onto her head, her every move silently and rather sceptically scrutinized by her sister from behind the shop counter. 'There. Now we move on to your face'.

'What's wrong with my face?' Kiara asked in alarm. 'I love my face! And I will protect it as if it was my firstborn child, which is kinda weird once you imagine it... But I will still protect it! You know that crazy elven lady that lives down in the Riften Ratway - she actually chased me around with a carving knife; said that my face was good clay, or something...'

Taarie remained unmoved. 'Have you ever paid any close attention to these caterpillars you call eyebrows? They have to be given a proper shape. And it could have occurred to you, at least once in your lifetime, that any lady of refinement uses special dyes and powders to highlight, say, the shape of her eyes'.

Endarie snorted. 'Oh please, dear sister,' she said, rolling up her eyes dramatically. 'You are casting beads before the swine'.

Kiara went into a somewhat childish sulk, 'For the last time: I am not that fat!'

'Stop talking,' Taarie ordered, producing a thick-haired powder brush and pair of long, ominously gleaming pincers. Kiara took a shaky, gasp-like breath, screwed up her eyes and braced herself for the worst.

After an eternity of wriggling and squeaking and giggling at being tickled, Kiara was finally released from Taarie's clutches. The moment the probing, groping, hair-tugging, skin-dusting hands let go of her face, she let out a small cry of relief and rushed to a nearby mirror, almost tripping over the skirt of her new dress. The young woman that stared back at her, bewildered and more than a little sheepish, looked vaguely familiar; she could very well have been Kiara's long-lost relative (especially since, what with her being a founding raised by a meric couple, every Redguard she met in the street was potentially her long-lost relative). She had the same nose and mouth, and the same deep blue eye colour, but that was where the similarities ended. She was taller, her feet crammed inside embroidered shoes with small heels instead of the comfortable, time-worn leather boots in which Kiara had climbed down many a steep flight of stone steps and leapt over many a mountain crag; and slimmer, too, imprisoned within an exceedingly tight-fitting dress, which had replaced Kiara's familiar set of armour, so delightfully flexible and almost completely arrow-proof (except around the knees, which is the common plight of Skyrim warriors). Her hair was hidden beneath a cap, so there was no telling if it was anywhere near as unruly as Kiara's; and her face, with vividly outlined eyes and lips and half-raised, neatly trimmed eyebrows, was like a skillfully crafted, impenetrable cage, behind the bars of which the spirit of laughter living within Kiara was trapped, with a very small chance to escape.

'Well?' Taarie asked expectantly, her arms folded on her chest, her air like that of a sculptor surveying the fruit of his labours.

Kiara lingered with the reply, mentally struggling to come up with something that could be qualified as a compliment; her first impulse had been to bluntly declare, 'This is not me' - and she was pretty sure Taarie would not like that. Finally, struck by a sudden idea, she smiled her usual bright smile, which looked oddly out of place her new, perfectly beautiful, mask-like face.

'I will definitely mingle with the crowd at the Embassy now!' she exclaimed, as cheerfully as she could with unyielding cloth pressing hard against her ribs every time she raised her voice too much. 'I've never looked more like one of those posh, snooty old squares!'

Taarie's left eyebrow twitched slightly. Kiara blushed, sensing that what she had just said was not much better than 'This is not me', and blurted out hurriedly, 'Gee, look at the time! I've got a carriage and a master bard to catch! Do you mind if I pay you with dragon bones?'