Author Note: Heh, this chapter is alright. It took a while longer than most, partly because I started it, had writers block for two days then scrapped it and started again yesterday, and partly because I'm trying to help a friend by writing something else at the moment. There's a new character of mine in this chapter. He's come out a little differently than I'd planned, but I like the way he is, even though he's kind of angsty... Yeah well, this is the first chapter to be completely devoid of Idari, who was never supposed to be the main character in the first place. Feel free to nit pick. I've read it through twice now and I can't see anything major like rapid changes in emotion as in the first 5 chapters, but if you see something off then let me know and I'll have a look.
Chapter 14
The Black Waterside Stables in Cheydinhal sold the best horses in all of Cyrodiil. The horses sold there were unparalleled in speed, and second in strength only to the white horses sold in the stables near Anvil.
The stables themselves were run by two Dark Elves with a keen eye for anyone they could make a decent amount of money from; so of course they saw Turner coming a mile away, his paint horse slacking and on its last legs and a bag of coins visible in the pocket of his sleek leather armour which he'd forgotten to move after paying Andreas Draconis for his troubles, an action which had proven thoroughly fruitless.
The Argonian purchased a black horse from the ostler for the unreasonable price of 5000 coins before departing the city at a speed which he was unused to after bidding an unsentimental farewell to the horse that had carried him across the province.
The horse watched him go with an air of relief, glad to see the back of the Argonian and Dunmer who had dragged her almost completely around the province as they gallivanted about without thought for the consequences. The Dunmeri woman who looked after the horses at the Black Waterside Stables seemed nice compared to some of the other people the poor paint horse had experienced and evidently took good care of the horses that lived there as they all seemed fit and healthy, so the old horse began to relax.
Turner spent about a day and a half riding around the Red Ring Road to the Imperial City. It would have been quicker to simply enter the city from the east and travel through that way, however the stables were located on the western side of the city on the slither of land connecting City Isle to the rest of Cyrodiil. After leaving his new 5000 septim investment in the Chestnut Handy Stables he set off into the city for what he would soon realise was the very first time after asking directions to the Arcane University from the Orc woman he had paid to take care of the animal that he had named 'Snowdrop'.
Compared to the other towns that the Argonian had visited the Imperial City was larger and busier than anything he'd ever seen before. Cheydinhal was the next grandest city in Cyrodiil and was still uncomparable to the sheer size and grandeur of the place he now stood in. The White Gold Tower, something Turner had only ever seen from a distance, stood out strikingly against the horizon behind the grey stone walls that separated the sections of the city and cast its large shadow over varying districts as the sun travelled its course through the sky.
It was truly beautiful, a symbol of the empire and the royal seat of Tamriel, but still the Argonian dressed in black leather from head to toe ran past it without a care or even so much as a fleeting glance. He intended to reach the Arcane University before it became unacceptable to be visiting, despite the fact that it was well known that the experiments of mages kept them awake at all hours of day and night as they researched various spells and potions to better the lives of the people of the province.
All of the best mages in the empire flocked to the Arcane University to continue their studies; so many, in fact, that they'd had to introduce a system whereby potential candidates were required to receive recommendations from each guildhall around the province before they were even considered worthy the enter the hallowed halls of the university.
While it was still located on City Isle the university was set apart from the main city by a short stretch of stone walkway flanked on either side by flaming torches that burned with a cold flame, presumably to prevent people being injured and to keep the bridge at a reasonable temperature to walk across. Turner took a moment to admire the large torches as he walked across the bridge, now confident that he could reach the university before nightfall, and remembered with a smile his very first attempt at a fireball spell in the Bruma Guild of Mages, the patch singed into the wooden ceiling and the look on Jeanne Frasoric's face when it gave out two days later under the sheer weight of snow, dumping it onto an experiment of hers as she tried to work. Volanaro and J'skar had been impressed with his accuracy, but that had been the day when Jeanne, normally a patient woman, had sent him out looking for work elsewhere.
The Arcane University, like the city itself, was circular in shape and split into sections. In the centre of the circle stone stairs led up to the Wizards Tower in which the Arch-Mage Hannibal Traven resided, the Council of Mages held their sessions and visitors to the university were greeted. On the other side of the tower, and separated from the public by a high stone wall, was the university itself, providing invaluable services and resources to the mages inside to such an extent that many never felt the need to leave again once they'd arrived. The soil of the university had been magically enhanced to grow all manner of alchemical ingredients which were essential to even the least skilled alchemist and invaluable to the best. While the alchemists in the individual towns could sell perhaps a few of the ingredients needed, the Arcane University was the only place in Tamriel where so many ingredients could be found without extensive searching.
The university had everything the budding mage could ever want for, and even its own legion of battlemages for when things turned sour.
A mage who had never visited the Arcane University could hardly be called a mage at all.
Turner sheepishly asked a battlemage just who he was supposed to speak to and was directed to the tower through the main entrance at the front. The only thing that set a battlemage apart from an average legion soldier in appearance was their enchanted armour and the blue hood they wore in place of the helmet, many even appeared to be carrying around the same standard issue weaponry and performing the exact same duties as their lesser trained counterparts. Personally, however, the Argonian didn't intend to be picking a fight with any of the guards in the Imperial City anytime soon.
Despite being the occasional contract killer, he was still a law-abiding citizen and did not intend to find himself on the bad side of any of the guards until he'd at least learnt how to use a blade and shield in self-defence.
The inside of the tower was not nearly as impressive as the outside; some benches were arranged in perfect straight lines to the right of the door while a desk covered in various magical equipment and a teleportation pad were to the right. At the back of the tower were three wooden doors that presumably led to the main university and to one side of those was a locked display case containing what looked like soul gems.
The circular room was nearly empty save for an Imperial man wearing a long blue robe and a middle-aged Altmer wearing a dark green robe and a black hood that fell across most of his face. While the Imperial smiled warmly at the Argonian as he entered, the High Elf simply shrank further away on the bench he was sitting on and turned his back antisocially. Turner decided that he would rather try his luck with the Imperial.
"Welcome friend," the Imperial beamed as the Argonian approached timidly. "What brings you to the Arcane University? Do you seek to enter?"
Turner shook his head silently, glad that the leather hood shrouded his identity from the Imperial man so that he would not be recognised as the failed Argonian mage from the guildhall in Bruma. "I seek a cure for vampirism," he said in a low voice, though evidently the Altmer had heard as he began to shift uncomfortably at the words.
The Imperial's smile shrank into a slight frown of incomprehension before returning again, a look of understanding dancing behind his friendly eyes. "We do not have one here at the university," the man explained, and out of the corner of his eye Turner could have sworn he saw the Altmer flinch involuntarily. "However I have been made aware that Janus Hassildor, the Count of Skingrad, is offering a reward for finding the cure. Perhaps it would be wise to approach him and ask for any information he might have. You evidently don't have the disease yourself, since it's still light outside and you appear to have arrived here in good health, so might I enquire why you're searching for a cure?"
"It's for a friend of mine," Turner lied impulsively. Even if the potion had been for Idari herself the pair were still little more than acquaintances, so to call themselves friends would be a vast exaggeration.
"Ah," the Imperial said, his expression becoming unreadable for a second. "You must offer my condolences to your friend for their misfortune. My name is Raminus Polus and I am in charge of all new initiates to the Arcane University, considered by some to be the second-in-command of the Mages Guild, however that is probably just a drastic overstatement. Your name, Argonian?"
The question caught Turner off-guard and his mind began to race in search of a fake name. "My name?" he asked rhetorically, buying himself a little more time to think. "My name is... Shoots-An-Arrow, I'm... an adventurer."
For a brief moment the mage did not appear to believe his lies, but then he smiled again. "Your name is rather apt, friend," he said with a small chuckle. Turner resisted the urge to roll his eyes, that was exactly the reason that he had chosen that as his fake name. "Perhaps once you have found the cure you might return here with news of how to acquire one?"
The Argonian nodded and then turned on his heels to leave. He didn't expect that he would be able to make it all the way to Skingrad, audience the count and make it back before Idari arrived in the Imperial City, however if he were to leave a message with Jeelius in the Temple of the One for her then he suspected that he might only keep her waiting for a day or two, and in that time she could easily deal with Matthias Draconis herself. He was relatively confident that she wouldn't be too angry with his actions considering that she and her family would be the ones to benefit from them, however he decided that leaving a message for her was obviously the best course of action as she would hardly appreciate him turning up several days after they'd agreed to meet.
Raminus Polus made no further attempts to speak until after he'd left and was outside asking an Imperial battlemage for directions to the Temple District, hoping to arrive before Jeelius left for the night. As soon as the door had closed after the Argonian the Altmer turned around again, his prominent cheekbones and pale red eyes making his situation clear. Raminus thought it a strange act of the Nine that two people seeking the same thing should approach him on the same day, a coincidence that could only have occured for some kind of divine purpose.
"Do you think that Argonian will be capable of finding a cure?" the Altmer asked, his voice laboured as he fought to control his new abilities and his eyes closing with the effort.
Raminus made no move as if to reply, but simply stared at the vampire beneath the hood for a long while. "Perhaps you should assist him from the shadows. It is unsafe for you to remain here in the university in your condition and other mages would soon begin to complain. It might even be an idea to approach him and ask for help as he seems a compassionate soul and I expect that he would happily aid you."
"But what of my duties to the Mages Guild?"
The Master-Wizard smiled. "Your loyalty will not go unnoted, however any duties we had for you cannot be completed with you in your current state. It looks to be twilight, so you shouldn't take too much damage," he said as he pulled a roll of parchment from the pocket of his robe. "However take this healing spell just in case I am mistaken. If you feed on a bandit then you shouldn't take damage from the sun for a good twenty-four hours and your quest will be easier."
A pair of red eyes shifted to the floor uneasily and a pair of golden fists clenched tightly. "The necromancers will not wait for me to be cured. I cannot abandon my cause without acquiring a guilty conscience."
"There are other mages in the university who can be trusted with this sensitive information, Warlock," the Imperial reassured him, waving the scroll up and down until the fledgling vampire snatched it from him and stuffed it into a pocket. "Archmage Traven will be glad to hear of your recovery when you return, and as you know of the count's... sensitive nature it might be best that you do go with the Argonian so that he is not scared out of his wits and does not give up on his journey because of it."
The High Elf nodded unhappily and strode towards the door with a pompous air of defeat. "Then I shall get going," he said tersely as he pulled open the wooden door. "I don't want him to get so far ahead that I lose him."
By the time Raminus opened his mouth to reply the Altmeri vampire had already vanished from the doorway and taken off towards the city.
xxx
Turner pushed open the door to the Temple of the One quickly. His intention was not to stay in the Temple for very long at all, mostly to just give a message for Idari to Jeelius and then to depart for Skingrad at the earliest opportunity.
Jeelius was, indeed, still in the Temple when Turner arrived and was now garbed in a grey robe and hood, a far cry from what he had last been seen wearing at Lake Arrius Caverns.
The Temple itself was nothing special without the Dragonfires lit, resembling nothing more than an empty circular room. Only one of Dragonblood wielding the Amulet of Kings could possibly relight the holy Dragonfires, however with the Amulet lost to Mankar Camoran and the only remaining Dragonborn doubting his very origins it seemed unlikely that the Dragonfires would ever be relit and the Temple would remain another unimportant building until the end of time.
The priest grinned broadly when he caught sight of the assassin. "Greetings, my friend, I am truly honoured by your presence."
Turner nodded respectfully. "The honour is mine, Jeelius," he said flatly. "However I am not here to stay for much longer than a few minutes. My... acquaintance, the Dunmer, is supposed to meet me here in a couple of days time, however I have to go to Skingrad urgently. So I was wondering whether you could pass on the message to her?"
Jeelius' grin faded slightly as the assassin spoke, but he maintained a significantly happy expression as he listened. "Of course. You know, I never found out your names, perhaps you would humour me?"
"I couldn't do that," the assassin replied with little thought. "She's obsessed with staying anonymous in Cyrodiil, and I wouldn't want to jeopardise the already strained relationship that I have with her by flaunting her name about the Imperial City. Tell her to go ahead and make the delivery to Matthias, and that I shall meet her here in a few days time. I don't intend to be very long at all, so make sure that she doesn't leave the city... This won't be a burden to you, will it?"
The priest shook his head with a friendly smile. "It was not too much of a burden for you to save my life, so it shall never be too much of a burden for me to pass on a simple message. Think of it as... returning the favour. If you ever need anything feel free to return here and I will aid you to the best of my ability."
"Thank you very much," Turner said politely before backing towards the door smoothly. "I don't intend to be very long, so farewell for now."
Jeelius waved as he departed with a small curt nod. For a moment Turner was very glad that the priest didn't know of his real occupation, as perhaps he would not be so willing to help, but then again, it occured to him, whatever passtime he partook in, he had still saved the priest's life and was still owed a debt of gratitude whatever the circumstances. That being said, Turner has no intention of revealing his career option to the priest unless his very life depended on it.
The sky was dark by the time he had returned to the Chestnut Handy Stables and removed Snowdrop from their care. The new horse might not have as much trouble keeping up with Shadowmere as the last one had, but it still didn't equal half the beast that the purple-skinned, red-eyed menace did. Snowdrop was just an average beast of burden, while Shadowmere was something entirely different. Nobody could ever really figure out just what made Shadowmere so special.
xxx
The shadow of night suited the Altmer vampire as he cast an invisibility spell over himself and snuck up on the Argonian in the stables, a small but lethal dagger in his hand and a desire to make an impression in his heart. He was not yet used to his vampiric senses, his speed and strength had increased more than every book in the Mystic Archives could possibly convey, and if he stopped to listen he might have noticed that his sight, hearing and smell had each increased too. However the vampire was more concerned with removing this curse than with embracing the changes that had undergone his Altmeri body.
Perhaps if he had stopped to savour it, he might have actually even enjoyed his afterlife.
Turner froze up as he felt the coldness of metal against the skin of his neck. His first thought was that maybe it was Idari, but then again she was not the type to kill someone of use to her, then he thought that maybe the assassin among assassins had caught up with him and was here to end his pitifully short existance, but the dagger didn't move, didn't attempt to slice his neck or dig into his skin, it just hovered there like someone making a point.
"What do you want?" he asked, surprising himself at how level his voice remained. Then again, this was hardly the first time that he'd had a dagger to his throat.
The vampire hissed angrilly, wondering why the Argonian was not quivering in fear. "You seek a cure for vampirism," he spoke in an awkward hissing tone that was unusual to his cultured race. "I seek one too."
"You're a vampire?" Turner asked in a matter of fact way that annoyed the Altmer still further. He didn't strain to see his attacker as he knew that the knife at his throat would not allow him that sort of scope for movement, however he could tell, beneath the hissing, that the vampire was a mer of some kind. He presumed, considering his knowledge of Turner's quest, that this vampire was likely to be the hooded Altmer from the Arcane University.
"That doesn't worry you?" the Altmer asked in shock, as if he were expecting the Argonian to be a wimpering mess by now.
"You aren't the first vampire I've met," he received in reply, and the Altmer mentally kicked himself since the Argonian was looking for a cure for his friend after all. His assumptions were wrong, of course, but it saved Turner from explaining how he had come to meet a vampire. "I am, however, worried by the knife at my throat. If you would release me I might be able to help you."
The vampire paused a moment, as if he hadn't considered that he still had his knife to the Argonian's throat, and was shocked that he was actually offering to help him after this awkward meeting. He removed his blade in a jerked movement and sheathed the dagger at his waist. The assassin turned around to see the High Elf vampire, still dressed in a dark green robe and black hood, but with his fangs and red eyes visible even through the blackness of the night.
"You don't look very progressed in your disease," Turner said as he looked at the Altmer's face. "That means you should still be able to travel in daylight, at least for a limited amount of time." He was glad that he'd actually taken the time to ask Vicente a few things about vampirism when he'd been training in the sanctuary, for they were finally becoming useful to him now. "My name is Shoots-An-Arrow," he said, determined to at least keep the same fake name with every person he spoke with. If he had told Jeelius this fake name he knew that Idari would never know who the message was from, so perhaps it would have been better to remain completely anonymous. "Do you have a name?"
The vampire's aged face contorted into a frown. "I am known as Seanturco. I'm of Warlock rank in the Mages Guild, despite the fact that I have chosen to wear the robes of an apprentice; these robes are darker and provide better camoflage for travelling at night, particularly in my... condition. Raminus Polus believes I can be of some use to you when you speak with Janus Hassildor, but I intend to return to the university as soon as I am cured."
"And you are in good control of your bloodlust?" the Argonian asked him, concerned as he watched the vampire's eyes continually returning to look at the vein in his neck. The Altmer nodded weakly. "Perhaps you should take blood from one of the horses here... It won't maintain you for long, but without blood your condition will only get worse and you will be unable to keep control."
"I can control myself just fine," Seanturco snapped with an arrogance afforded only to the High Elves of the Summerset Isles. "I would not stoop to drawing blood from these... these beasts."
Turner's golden eyes flashed angrilly in the moonlight. "If you do not feed, you will die, and then there'll be no returning to the Arcane University, will there? The less you feed, the more weakened you will become, and you will take sun damage, your appearance will age further, and nobody within a twenty mile radius will ever speak to you again. Guards will try to kill you, people will hate you and attack at the first opportunity, and very soon you will end up very definitely dead, so I suggest that you take blood from one of those damned horses now, or so help me I'll end you quickly right now!" The Argonian paused with a slight double take as he watched the expression on the Altmer's face change from shock to fear to determination. Turner didn't quite understand how he'd ended up sounding quite so much like Idari, even in her absence.
Perhaps some of her character flaws had rubbed off on him.
The High Elf's resolve had failed him. "How do you suggest I go about feeding on one then?" he asked with a fearful tone in his voice.
The assassin could not remember ever asking Vicente about the feeding techniques of a vampire and racked his memory for any form of an idea. "I suggest you paralyse it so it doesn't bolt and then drink from it. Apparently vampires have good hearing and vision, so you should be able to find a vein or something. How long exactly have you been a vampire?"
Seanturco glared at him with eyes as sharp as daggers. "I was infected perhaps three days ago, and didn't realise my predicament until it was too late and now I'm stuck as this accursed monster until I find a cure."
He cast a powerful paralysis spell on his chosen chestnut horse, a strong looking animal that would not be too badly affected if drained of a few pints of blood. Breathing deeply to calm his senses, the vampire located a vein near the surface of the skin on the horse's neck and punctured the skin with his sharp fangs. The blood was repulsive and sickly, but as soon as it made contact with his golden Altmeri lips he was unable to pull himself away, drinking it down as it flowed into his mouth.
Turner looked away in disgust as the blood flowed out. It trickled down the Altmer's chin and dripped onto the ground below, the vile stench of death carried with it. The Argonian didn't doubt that on his first ever feed the High Elf would not be able to exercise enough self-control to stop himself from drinking the creature dry, but the blood would sustain him for long enough to reach Skingrad and return even if it did little else, and the experience would teach him a valuable lesson in vampirism.
The horse's eyes, widened in fear as it remained paralysed, clouded over as its blood was drained; it's limbs became shaky and the animal found itself unable to move even after the paralysis spell had worn off, succumbing to a fearful and no doubt painful death at the hands of a mage.
When the blood stop flowing the vampire wrenched his lips away in anguish, his eyes now deep red with the excess blood in his system, and fought against his senses to gorge on another innocent creature. Seanturco shook in disbelief as he lay a bony golden hand on the shoulder of the creature that he had put an end to, unable to believe that he had commited such a heinous crime, and withdrew it with haste when he noticed that his fingers were tainted with blood.
"I am a murderer," he whispered as he gazed into the eyes of the dead animal. The words stung Turner when he heard them, a gruesome reminder of how he had felt upon his first murder, and a pit of guilt manifested itself in his stomach even though he knew that this would have had to happen sooner or later.
The Argonian mounted his horse with perhaps a little more fluidity than he could usually manage. "The sooner we reach Skingrad the sooner your ordeal will be over," he called back to the vampire who was still stuck staring at the horse, pulling Seanturco back to his Altmeri senses instead of his vampiric ones. "You are not a murderer," he attempted to comfort him, his voice quieted so that he did not alert the ostlers of the stables as they slept, easy targets for an angry vampire. "Think of it as self-defence or self-preservation. You did not mean to kill it, and next time you will be better at controlling yourself when you feed."
"There will not be a next time," the High Elf said in a low, guilt ridden voice. "I am a monster." The dagger appeared in his hand again, his time angled towards his own chest.
The blade was made of iron, a small comfort to Turner who knew that a vampire could not be injured by anything that was not made of silver or enchanted, but he did not like the thought of the mage attempting to end his own life after killing just one animal. "If you kill yourself you'll be food for the necromancers," the assassin told him, and the comment seemed to do the trick as the Altmer looked away from his knife in shock and returned it to its sheath.
"The sooner I am cured, the better," he said before taking off on foot at a pace unlike Turner had ever witnessed before. He knew that vampires possessed superior speed, and Snowdrop had no trouble in keeping up, but he had never expected anything quite as spectacular as what he saw before him now.
At the pace the vampire kept up they reached Skingrad in the early morning. It was not a long trip from the Imperial City to Skingrad and would normally have taken little more than a day on foot or half a day on horseback, but the assassin and mage reached the town in even less time, leaving Turner even more glad that he had bought a new horse before setting out for the city.
The town itself was small but grand, cleaved completely in two by the Gold Road running through its centre which conveniently separated the paupers from the rich landowners. The area was famous for its wines, and two of the very best brands of wines in Tamriel were brewed in Skingrad, meaning most of the townsfolk were employed in the vinyards just outside the city walls. The streets of Skingrad were narrow, and the stone houses stretched into the sky, giving the place an unintentional sense of foreboding in the hours of darkness and easy access to the other houses for budding thieves, as many of the balconies on either side of the street met with only a short jump between them.
Both the assassin and the mage sought to shield their identities with their hoods so that the guards and townsfolk would not pay attention to them, each for a different reason but primarily to achieve the same goal. Castle Skingrad was outside the town itself and they made their way there after Seanturco admitted that he'd visited the count before on Mages Guild business.
As soon as they mentioned their search for a cure for vampirism to the count's steward, an Argonian woman named Hal-Liurz, it was all she could do to stop herself from running to fetch him, just about managing to walk at a quickened, but still dignified, fashion.
Turner had a good idea of what to expect of Count Janus Hassildor. Vicente had often let slip that he was not the only one to 'enjoy his evenings', and the fact that the count had not been seen publically in many years simply confirmed the fact that he was hiding something. He was a good and just leader of his people, but he was not very 'hands-on' with his people. The various theories about him had spread all across Cyrodiil.
Seanturco fidgeted uncomfortably. He had spoken with the count before, the count had once aided him in a fight with some necromancers and then demanded thanks despite the fact that all of the three necromancers were dead before he'd even raised a finger to attack them, but it had been in completing a harebrained task for the count that he'd been infected with porphyric haemophilia, and ultimately he did not think that the count was going to be impressed with his returning in this state.
Hassildor followed his steward down the stairs from his chambers with a smooth, regal gait and a patient expression. Turner could tell that he had been a vampire for many years, his face aged far more greatly than the potrait of him in human form hanging on the wall and his fangs expertly hidden just as Vicente had always taken care to do. Remembering Vicente made his stomach churn and he forced himself to focus on the task at hand instead of dwelling on the past, but he couldn't quite shake the image of the dead vampire's corpse from his mind.
"What do you want?" the count demanded. His voice was smooth as any Imperial's but bitter and twisted at the same time.
It was Turner who spoke first. "We seek to find a cure for vampirism. Raminus Polus at the Arcane University said that you might have some information as you also seek the cure."
"I do not seek the cure for myself," Hassildor said tersely, his red eyes narrowing slightly. "Some years ago my wife Rona and I were infected with vampirism. While I embraced the changes, she did not, refusing to feed until she grew so weak that she slipped into a coma from which she has not awoken. My sources have told me that there is one woman capable of making a cure for my wife, a witch named Melisande who lives near the ruins of Vahtecan. You will be greatly rewarded if you bring the cure back for my wife, not to mention that I will be eternally indebted to you..." He paused briefly. "I presume that you were infected by the vampires in Bloodcrust Cavern?"
Seanturco did not reply for about a minute, his mind failing to process that he was being spoken to all of a sudden, then he nodded. "Once the vampire hunters were all dead I didn't notice the last remaining vampire until it was too late. He got me before I had a chance to react. I know the ruins of Vahtecan so finding this witch should not be too much trouble."
The count smiled slightly, but kept his lips pressed together so that his fangs did not show. "You will never make it all the way to Vahtecan without feeding, mage," he replied with the voice of a far superior vampire and the authority that came with his status as Count of Skingrad. "I cannot afford to have vampire hunters in Skingrad, for obvious reasons, however feel free to feed on anybody outside of my town walls. Animal blood will never sustain you that far as it can only provide a small respite to the sun. Sometimes sacrifices must be made..."
The Altmer appeared to pale at the concept, his hood shielding most of his face and making the majority of his expression incredibly hard to fathom. Turner simply inclined his head to the count and made his way towards the door, the vampire following him as if in some kind of a trance.
"Sacrifices?" Seanturco whispered to himself as soon as they were outside, raising a golden hand into a shaft of sunlight and waiting for a reaction. His skin did not burn in the light, which was a good sign at least, but he was immediately aware of a pain seering through his arm, causing him to drop it back to his side and recover it with the sleeve of his robe. "Sacrifices," he repeated with more assertion, pulling his hood further down so that his whole face was shrouded in shadow. He knew that without the blood his robe and hood would be of no protection to the sun whatsoever and he would very quickly die, magically restored or not.
Turner watched the High Elf with great interest, knowing that he could hardly take him back to the Imperial City aware, as he was, of Idari's bias against vampires and certain that he would never be able to find the witch without the Altmer's help. He sighed heavily; hopefully he would be able to persuade Idari to help the vampire with the tempting thought of rescuing her little brother.