"I put my trust on you once in my time of need. You've changed so much since then…"
Those words seem to have made more of an impact on Elsa than she thought it would. She heard it the first time Saadia said it, but waiting in silence gave Elsa too much time to really hear it. Squirming uncomfortably in her chair, Elsa takes a deep breath, pushing her braid to the side as she leans forward to speak.
"So, Saadia is…?"
"A friend," Onyx barely changes his posture, leaning heavily on the wall as he cuts Elsa off.
"A friend, of course," Elsa takes a deep breath before continuing. "And I take it she is no commoner?"
It was easy for Elsa to see that Saadia had some quirks that are distinguishable as highborn mannerism. While cultures differ greatly between this world and the one Elsa came from, there are still far too many similarities. Just being around Solitude, speaking with Elisif and interacting with the commoners, Elsa can clearly see a familiar world where Highborns and commoners act and present themselves quite differently. For Saadia's case, her posture and the overall ambiance she lets out gives Elsa the impression that she is more than what she is. And it's not just common confidence either; Elsa has been around far too many nobles to know the difference between the two. She has been curious about it the moment she noticed it about Saadia.
"You may want to keep that to yourself," Onyx responds tartly as he wiggles the fingers of his injured arm, "I need Saadia to like me long enough for her to help me."
Of course Elsa gets her answer in that tone. When Saadia stated 'You've changed so much since then', Elsa is inclined to believe that Onyx wasn't always this rude. He couldn't be. He seems to hold enough respect of the people for them to look up to him—or maybe it's not necessarily respect as much as it is reverence because of his power and the legend behind it, but part of her truly believes that he had accomplished deeds that truly adhere to the idea of a 'hero'. The boy they saved, Ennrk, seems to believe so and seeing how he treats children, he could very well have been a hero some time ago before he changed. Though more often than not, it's hard for Elsa to really hold on to the thought of his heroism especially when they enter a city and the first interaction they get are people drawing their swords and pointing them at him. Elsa can still feel the adrenaline of seeing a grown man change into a colossal werewolf—a creature told in books in her kingdom to scare children. Perhaps if he tried to be less uncouth he might have less people wanting his head off his shoulder. Or less mythical creatures trying to swallow him whole, for that matter.
"Very well. I shall mind my own business," Elsa finally tells him, deciding that it's best to abide by his words for now. And a good thing too since the door to this small room opens and Saadia enters. After locking the door behind her, she stares at Elsa before giving Onyx an apprehensive look.
"She will stay," the Dragonborn states, as if reading Saadia's mind.
"Are you sure of this, Onyx? Have you truly been this liberal about your—"
"Of course not," Onyx gives Elsa a glance before turning back to Saadia. "But the situation dictates that she discovers." Discovers what? Elsa is paying attention to every word, fighting every urge to interrupt; she isn't a big fan of people talking about her as if she isn't there. "Besides, she has had her fill of revelations as of late that I believe my condition will…. be less daunting."
There were plenty of things running through Elsa's head in regards to that statement. Most of them were the events that transpired the last few days and all the things she has 'learned' about. All things considered, Elsa has the right to fall into a nervous break down—just the thought of not being able to go back home because of the many reasons that would prevent her from doing so is enough to send anyone into turmoil. But falling into such a condition would definitely mean that seeing Arendelle again is an even farther possibility and Elsa cannot have that happen. She has a sister and a kingdom to come home to—people who loves her and depend on her safe return. So when Onyx slides his helmet off, Elsa had the mind set that she wouldn't let whatever revelations about his condition dampen her spirit…. If only it didn't.
"Vampirism," he says curtly, "is it something you are familiar with in your world?"
Elsa isn't entirely sure if the words sank in—she isn't sure if she heard him right. All other senses are dull at the moment. All Elsa can focus on is what she sees… what his face looks like. The first and only other time she saw his face was in the Blue Palace. Other than that his helmet has kept his face covered throughout their travels. Though despite only seeing the face underneath the strange headgear once, Elsa remembers accurately what he looked like. It was a face that was hardly easy to forget. He was far from frightening, but not someone Elsa can say is her idea of a 'prince charming', but one thing was certain, he wasn't at all monstrous. At least not to the point of how he looks like now. While still retaining most of his features that Elsa remembers: the grey skin, the, the red mark, and the crimson eyes, something is obviously amiss. His skin was gaunt before, but not to the point that his skeletal features were prominent like it is now. If Elsa was to make a comparison, Onyx's skin is pressed into his bones as if he hasn't eaten in a while. Then of course his ears; she recalls them being a bit pointy, but this time they seem to truly protrude even more, way beyond the layers of his black hair. His eyes are blood red and as he stares at Elsa, there seems to be something feral about his gaze. Elsa can feel fear creeping up from within. Is it the way he is staring that is frightening her? Or the fact that his… fangs are insinuating far too many things? Elsa finds herself in need to stand up and taking a few steps back, pressing herself against the wall, slightly knocking over a few items off the dresser. The word 'vampirism' and the change in his facial features seem to connect all too hauntingly.
"What do you mean 'her world'?" luckily Saadia spoke, breaking Onyx's gaze from Elsa.
"To put it simply, she isn't from Tamriel."
"She's not from Tamriel?"
Onyx lets out an aggravated sigh before giving Saadia one of his sarcasm that is laced with his aggravation. Elsa pays no attention to them—her mind seems to be fixed on the idea of what Onyx could be. Dragons. Werewolves. Undead. Vampires. So much. Too much even for a woman who can make life out of snow and ice. "There were stories of the first Vampire," Elsa finally manages some words, causing Onyx and Saadia to stop their own conversation to pay attention to her, "he was named many things and his existence is shrouded in so much mystery. They say his family came from the House of the Dragon—a lineage that claimed their divinity by serving under the banner of Heaven," she licks her dry lips, trying to compose the myriad of emotions she is feeling at the moment. "The one who would cause this house to fall was the third of his name: Vlad Dracul III. He was a man who committed many atrocities in his time. He had a nickname that was influenced by his evil deeds: Vlad the Impaler, one can truly imagine what that named meant. It was said that he impaled rival armies and feasted like a king as their bodies painted the ground red with their blood," Elsa never liked the stories, but her father was adamant that she learned about them. Some of her studies she pushed away, never thinking once that she would ever have to recall them. Though it seems this particular piece was meant to sprout its ugly head. Gathering more of her thoughts, she continues."He was eventually killed. How, when, and where is still all in debate but they say that his body rose from the dead through some deal with the devil. He gained immortality in exchange of whatever was left of his soul. He became a vampire. The first Vampire; the lord of all Vampires. An abomination that fed on the blood of those who he deemed worthy to quench his thirst."
A moment of silence is what follows after Elsa remembers the tale of the 'first vampire' of her world. She honestly never believed the whole pact with the devil and Vlad's revival, but with her having snow magic, she is more than willing to believe it now—and if not just for that, the fact that she finds herself in another world that are filled with so many fearsome creatures and unimaginable magic... well it would be asinine for her not to believe in that tale, as horrifying as the thought of Vlad Tepes actually still alive in her world after centuries.
"A deal with a devil? A man who would feast on the dying blood of his enemies?" Both the dark skinned woman and Onyx seemed to have given Elsa their undivided attention, but it was Saadia who is the first to speak. "Seems to me that the continent you come from has Molag-Bal's influence."
And there is the name of the Daedric Prince of Domination; the horrifying Prince that Onyx seems to swear by. While her knowledge of this world's beliefs is still very vague, the Queen of Arendelle is able to surmise that Molag-Bal would definitely be someone that Vlad would make a deal with in order for him to gain his immortality—she shudders at the thought that some of these beings quite possibly have an influence on her own world. The fact that she is here now in Skyrim insinuates that the idea is not far fetch. Shaking the thoughts off for now, Elsa catches sight of Onyx, finding herself unable to truly bring it upon herself to state the obvious even if the Dragonborn already told her the reason for his 'condition' without actually telling her.
"Good, then you are familiar with what they are and what they could be known for," Onyx tells her before looking away to give Saadia a signal. The dark skinned woman merely gives the Dragonborn a sigh before walking up to him, rolling the sleeves of her left arm up in the process.
"I can only hope that the resistance the potion you gave me will help me endure better than the last one," she tells him for the second time.
Elsa observes Onyx as he watches Saadia intently when she offers her hand. Elsa catches the glow in his eyes—the look of desperation and the easily recognizable look of hunger. To the Queen's dismay, what was hinted with Onyx's words is true. And if the words weren't enough, the act of Onyx pulling Saadia's hand and quickly planting a firm grip with his jaws on her wrist is enough to truly drive the point home. Elsa turns away to prevent the reality to sink any further, though Saadia's withheld scream echoed quite prominently, making the moment as frightening as it is awkward. Now Elsa truly wishes she didn't have to be in the room, especially when she glances at the scenario, which immediately causes her cheeks to turn red. The sight of Saadia leaning her whole body on Onyx as he continues to replenish himself is more than awkward; the sounds Saadia is letting out, the feral and needy look on Onyx's eyes…. Perhaps finding out that Onyx is a vampire isn't her main qualm after all; having to be in the same room as he feeds is the most inconvenient thing about it. If she isn't mistaken, there seems to be something else about the whole procedure—as if Onyx is quenching more than one type of thirst. Shivering, Elsa continues to keep her head away from the whole thing, forcing herself to stare at the wooden wall, hoping that she can some how block out the sounds Saadia is letting out.
The sun. Regardless how cloudy the skies are, it always has its way of touching every man, mer, and beast that isn't within the protection of a roof. If they say that the sky is the perception of every mortal living in Nirn, then why can't Serana perceive it as something a bit more comforting rather than… well, the way it is now? Reaching behind her head, the Lady of Volkihar gingerly tucks her shoulder length hair behind her hood before pulling the hood over her head. While the hood holds some kind of aesthetics to her overall attire, it also serves to give her just enough protection from the blaring heat as she takes her first step outside the comfort of her castle and into the outdoors of her castle courtyard.
"I received your message," Serana spots Valerica sitting down on her usual chair at the bottom of the stairs, chalice in hand, "I do believe that this is important?"
"Of course. Dare I take you away from your duties as the Lady of our Castle if it was not of great importance?"
If Valerica's condescending tone of voice wasn't enough to agitate Serana, the lack of acknowledgement through eye contact did. Though Serana has learned to suppress her emotions over the course of her lifetime and a small lack of gesture wasn't going to be the spell that sends Serana into a fury. Though sadly, Serana can't find it in her to truly forgive Valerica for what happened—even though if her mother had some good intentions with the actions she chose. The Lady of Volkihar may have a good hold on her emotions most nights, but she lets it be known that she isn't fond of her Mother's presence. "Let us not play games, Mother," Serana states coldly, "as you said, I have other duties I should be attending to."
Valerica pauses, hand clutching the chalice that is a few inches away from her lips. She slowly turns her head, eyes finally connecting with Serana as she gives the attention her daughter seems to vehemently desire. "The matter at hand requires some time, my daughter. Would it be a burden to give me some of it?" with her free hand, Valerica gestures towards the empty chair across from her, silently asking for Serana to join. Of course the reaction from her daughter is an unimpressed sigh, but she complies regardless.
"After all these years the Madgod must have had an influence on you," as those words came out of Serana's mouth, Valerica had already poured Serana her own cup.
"Is that so? What would make you say that about your own mother, Serana?"
Serana's eyes omit a glow before she stands up, sending the chair backwards. "Still playing games are we, Mother? Dare you forget that you live in this castle because I allow it? What you have done is unforgivable and it could have cost us so much more than our lives! You should not even be in these very walls, but I garnered enough grace in me to let you be because you are my Mother. However, do not toy with my hospitality."
"I have said a thousand times, and I will continue to tell you for another thousand years if need be that I am not proud of what I did. Though despite my short comings, I do believe that there were some good things that came of it, and for that, I am grateful that my mistakes did not cause as much suffering as it could have for you, Serana."
The Lady of Volkihar was tense; fingers curled into fists and her eyes narrowed as they let out a vigorous glow of anger. It is true that Valerica had expressed her apology every time they would cross paths—but the fact is the two don't exactly get a lot of time to interact, mostly on Serana's part. She can't find it in her to completely forgive her, even if her Mother's deeds were nowhere close to Harkon's. But Serana can't find it in her to banish her own Mother, thus why she lets Valerica take refuge, even if Valerica mostly takes the courtyard as her own 'domain', which means the two have enough space away from each other and encounters are seldom—once or twice a week. To Serana's joy, it has worked to her advantage, but there are still times they have to interact like today, which means she has to maintain some kind of composure. Taking a deep breath, Serana sits back down, adamant at finding a reason as to why she has to endure seeing her Mother today.
"Could you have at least find time to meet me when the weather is not taxing?" Serana states rather annoyingly as she takes a sip of her drink.
"With how much you have on your plate, I doubt we can find a perfect time. Besides, seeing the garden when the sun is out is far more gratifying than it is at night, wouldn't you agree?"
The fact that her Mother can nonchalantly pester her about something as trivial as that in a moment such as this pushes Serana's patience to the limits. Though as much as Serana has the urge to stand up and walk away, she can't help but admire what her Mother has done to restore the Courtyard. One can almost say that it rivals its former beauty before it was left unattended and without care for centuries. The dead trees that once dominated this area are now replaced by live ones, vibrant and green, branches that extend, almost creating a full overhead on the lower floor. The ground now holds flowers, expertly planted and cared for in every practical corner. There are blooming flowers that are rich in variety that adds such color and life to what was once a ruined area. True, the obvious lack of attention over the centuries will leave its mark—no amount of tending to by Valerica and her thralls (some are active right now, minding the green life or harvesting whatever alchemy ingredients have bloomed) will take away the test of time. Though to Serana, the antique and somewhat ancient look is inviting and a perfect juxtapose to Valerica's handy work. Also, the smell of teeming green life and thousand year old buildings somehow creates a beautiful aroma. Suffice to say, in Serana's opinion, it is a much improved sight than how it was when she and Onyx visited it years ago.
"If this is indeed an urgent matter, I would still rather have this conversation inside. I'm not a fan of how bright the sun is on any given day," Serana focuses her attention back at her mother. "Even if there is beauty to be admired."
A chuckle is how Valerica responds at first before taking another sip of blood. Of course she is met with Serana's perpetual glare. "That is a relief, my daughter. You can still admire beauty. But it is still rather astonishing to me that the sun and the moons still hold weight to how you feel."
"I am missing the part where this is an urgent matter. I take it you enjoy wasting my time?"
"I am merely stating that at one point it troubled you not to venture forth outside just to meet the Dragonborn, regardless of the weather."
"This conversation is over, Valerica." With those words, Serana sets her chalice down rather violently before standing up from her chair for a second time. "Thank you for wasting my time."
"In a matter of two years the Dawnguard have managed to rebuild their ranks," then Valerica's tone suddenly changes—gone is the playful ambiance and now comes the rather stern and insightful side of her that Serana rarely sees since her return from Soul Cairin. In fact, ever since Valerica has let her hair fall freely from their usual twin buns, the former Lady of Volkihar has given herself a much younger image—a younger and a far more playful image—so to see and hear her becoming so serious and straight to business definitely causes some confusion in Serana. Regardless of the shock, her words seem to have some weight to them and Serana cannot help but pay attention. "It is not only in numbers they grow, but also in the quality of their warriors. Is this true, Serana?"
For a moment, Serana reminisces on her encounters with the Dawnguards. The brutal skirmishes she and her clan have had with them recently mirrors Valerica's words. The numbers of deaths within her clan are far greater than Serana would like to admit and she can only speculate on how many were captured and tortured to death. The Dawnguards who didn't kill themselves before getting captured are well trained to the point that information gathered were either too vague or they died in the procedure of extracting information. Suffice to say, Clan Volkihar knows very little to nothing about them save for the fact that the new Dawnguard is nothing like Isran's faction. The only thing similar about them is that they are adamant about eradicating Tamriel of Vampires and wear the same sigil.
"They are troublesome, that much I will admit, but they will not rid the world of our Clan," finally setting aside the most recent events of her encounter with the Dawnguards, Serana responds to Valerica. "They will die like everyone before them who embraces the ambition of hunting us like we are nothing but dogs."
"Troublesome indeed. I have heard whispers among the castle that these hunters have masters in the arcane arts, warriors skilled in every weapon and rogues who posses the eyes of Hircine's finest archers. Of course those qualities are just mere tools—whoever wields them—whatever motivates them seems to mock their predecessors with ease."
"I am aware of all of this, Mother. I still do not understand why you summoned me when I should be seeking for a way to rid ourselves of this problem. Amusing your redundancy is something that I do not need at any given moment."
Valerica takes a moment to allow Serana's words to resonate before taking another drink. Her eyes never leaving Serana's as she spends those few moments enjoying the taste of blood as if it was fine wine. Vampires do love to treat them as such despite the fact that their 'life' mostly depends on it regardless of the taste or the method of drinking it. "I was merely elaborating on the factors against us. I do believe with those in mind, I dare say that now would be an opportune time to seek out the Dragonborn," the change in Serana's demeanor in regards to the statement is all too obvious, but Valerica ignores it and continues to speak. "He aided our clan against the Dawnguards before, did he not?"
Onyx the Dragonborn became one of the Volkihars' greatest allies. With his help, they caused a fatal blow on the vampire hunters after the events of Harkon's obsession with the Tyranny of the Sun prophecy. Then the days went on and Onyx became more of a constant face in Serana's life as a close friend, and eventually, as her lover. To the Lady of Volkihar, the Dragonborn did more than just aid her clan; he helped her feel emotions that she had lost as a vampire. As a Daughter of Coldharbour, Serana had done some unforgivable things—things that Serana thought would forever damn her ability to care for more than her own ambitions and welfare. Though Onyx revived the warm and caring side of her as she watched him care for Anjiri and the Honorhall children. Not only that, when she asked in the most unorthodox and yet straightforward way, Onyx gave his word that he would be hers—that he would feed into her avarice because he felt the same for her. Recollecting all of those memories, Serana finds herself forming a small smile on the corner of her lips. What he personally did for her greatly overshadows his deeds as an ally of Clan Volkihar. Though with how things ended—the way he acted and all the terrible things he had done to endanger himself and the people around him because of his broken pride, Serana quickly retracted that smile, shifting back to the angered and annoyed expression as she replied to her mother.
"The man is troubled and he would bring more duress than actually alleviate some. Besides, last we spoke, he made it clear that he wants nothing to do with me," she tells Valerica with anger in her voice.
"A man with the soul of a dragon… clearly he would be troubled. But that does not strip him of his ability to be of great service. Surely you have not forgotten what he was able to accomplish?"
"He accomplished many things, I am not denying that, but he is volatile and he follows his own ambitions. No one can persuade him to fight for their cause without suffering a possible rebuttal from him," Serana pauses; letting her words mirror the glare she is giving her mother. "Onyx holds no loyalty for any clan or any faction. The Brotherhood and the Nightingales are well aware of this. Which means that asking for his help is more than asinine—like the wind, he drifts and wanders; obliterating anything that gets in his way…" Serana cuts herself off before she says anymore. It's more apparent to Valerica that there is more emotion in her statements, and being this transparent is something Serana hates. Ending it with those words, Serana decides to stop while she is ahead. "Now, if you would excuse me."
Serana quickly turns her back, taking fast and heavy steps towards the castle, convinced that she no longer has the obligation to say anymore or hear anything Valerica has to say—though Valerica makes sure she that her words are to be heard. "I do not claim to know your relationship with him. I was not there and it would be foolish for me to try and claim grounds on something I barely have an idea about. However I do believe that his loyalty was not for our clan. He fought Harkon for you. He demolished Isran and his Dawnguards for you," Valerica knew Serana heard her, even if her daughter continues to walk away. "I do believe that if you vocalize how much you need him now, he will fight with you. And correct me if I am wrong but, that is far better than fighting for you."
Reaching the top of the stairs, Serana heard loud and clear. So clear that she hesitated in opening the door, taking a few moments to mull over the words. Again the memories of Onyx starts to fill her with the emotions that she was forced to bury within—she had always tried to steer away from idea of asking for his help because of the condition of their relationship. She had other things keeping her mind busy, after all, she does have a recently revived group of Vampire Hunters knocking at her door more often than she would like to admit. But lately, the fine line of what has kept her busy and the idea of the Dragonborn may be cluttered together sooner than later despite herself. Pushing the hood off of her head, Serana opens the door and walks inside.
Elsa watches as Onyx covers Saadia with the blanket; quite the paradigm shift of a scenario since not too long ago, Onyx fed on the dark skinned woman to the point that she lost herself in her pain. Or perhaps she merely succumbed to unconsciousness from having blood drained form her. Or perhaps there was more to it that Elsa cannot quite figure out since vampirism was just a mere myth to her not too long ago. Lots of things to try and figure out; first she has to get used to the fact that Onyx is a vampire himself—a creature who feeds on others to keep himself sustained.
"Will she be alright?" Elsa speaks in a low voice, keeping her distance from Onyx as he straightens his stance.
"She will live. But she will be ill for possibly a day," he responds, slowly turning around to face her. "Saadia is a Redguard, made strong by the harsh requirements of Skyrim. She won't let this keep her from her duties for too long."
Elsa was half paying attention to what Onyx was saying. Sure she heard his words, but part of her was truly taking in the sight of Onyx's face. Gone were the gaunt and somewhat terrifying features of his; now the younger, healthier looking, and unique human face is the one staring back at her. The first time he took his helmet off, Elsa immediately found herself drawn into his crimson eyes—a common trait in this new world, but something about his own red orbs that defines the brooding ebony clad warrior in a way that compels her. It's even more hypnotizing since they are directly right at her and with the revelation of what Onyx is, part of Elsa can surmise that perhaps his vampirism plays a role at this moment as to why she is so curious. Still, Elsa can't help but find something uniquely charming about him; even more so compared to the first time she saw his face. Well fed and satisfied, his looks truly does depend on blood—again the idea of him being a blood hungry vampire and possibly hypnotizing her causes Elsa to turn her head away in an abrupt manner.
"Did you prefer the starving vampire look, Snow Queen?" the head movement was obvious as well judging from Onyx inquiring as to why.
"No-not at all," Elsa replies, staring at the ground before glancing back at Onyx, "I … I just don't know how to take all of it in."
"I'm not this 'Vlad Dracul' that you spoke of."
There was something ridiculous about that statement that doesn't sit well in Elsa. "No. You are real and I am standing in front of you."
"Oh?" clearly Onyx found her reply amusing with the small grin that forms on his face. "The evil and powerful Dragonborn is also a man who takes full satisfaction in the impalement of his enemies—must be a frightening thought," he draws closer; every step resonates in Elsa's ears. "Or is it because you are afraid that I will succumb to my hunger one day and take you for my own?"
"If that is suppose to be funny, I do not find it amusing at all," Elsa finds her voice squeaking slightly as Onyx is just an arm's reach away with an oddly placed grin that showcases his fangs. "And please… can you not stand so close?"
"If you find me less trustworthy, that is hardly something that bothers me. But do understand that we have to work together for the moment for a lot of reasons."
The words resound within Elsa as soon as she heard it. The strange thing about it is that despite all her apprehension with his ways and the fact that she detests his attitude, Elsa finds herself more than willing to trust him with her life—the fact is that he undoubtedly proven himself on more than one occasion on that matter. What is even more peculiar is that despite the revelation of Onyx's vampirism, she sees and feels him to be closer to humanity than ever before. With that, Elsa can see him as something more than just an emotionless killer. Also, Elsa latched on to the statement of 'have to work together' rather quickly. There was a mutual agreement in the way he said it—almost as if he vocalized his acceptance of her ability despite their differences in how they would go about seeing the value in life. With this profound epiphany, Elsa feels safer than before, but the grin and the flaunting of his fangs make her weary of his distance; amongst other things.
"I understand that," Elsa replies as calmly as she can, "but there are a few more things I would like to know about your…." Elsa struggles for a moments finding the right word, "… condition?"
"My condition you say?" without his helmet, Elsa is able to witness as the emotions runs through Onyx's face—a mixture of agitation and amusement seems to be the most prominent ones she can decipher judging from the frown and raised brow. "Make haste. This isn't exactly the best time to start bombarding me with questions."
"Isn't there a part of you that thinks that this might be a bit too much for me take in?"
"You mentioned that much of what Skyrim has shown you are foreign to you and yet for some reason, this one seems to give you the most apprehension."
"Perhaps it is because this one seems to truly give definition to my thoughts as to where your allegiance lies."
Onyx's annoyed expression changed completely in a matter of seconds. Elsa caught every moment of it—she watched as he seemed to have been dismayed by her words, eyes widening slightly before furrowing at her direction; clearly taken off guard.
"My allegiance, obscure as it may be to you, have kept you alive this entire time," the harsh rebuttal of words even mirrors the emotion written all over Onyx's face. "Despite everything, I chose to protect you so that you may be off to your Arendelle. And despite everything, I'm still willing to do so for reasons of my own and for your own welfare."
"Do not misconstrue, Onyx. I appreciate everything that you have done despite the horrific ways you go about things. However this… this isn't exactly something I can take lightly. Partner that in with your beliefs in these Daedric Princes… I just… I'm very afraid that you… well…" Elsa looks away for a moment, unable to form the proper words. "I want to go home and you are the only person that I know in this world that is capable of helping me. But I do not know if you truly have the intent to see through it to the end."
"Funny. Senna seemed to have those feelings about me some time ago," the mention of the late Priestess' name brings Elsa eyes back towards the Dragonborn, "though not as vocal. She continued to pursue her goals as strange as they were. We all knew where that ended."
Was it because his helmet was off that Elsa was truly able to feel some kind of vulnerability? Or is it because Onyx is allowing more of it to show? Regardless, part of her rather felt some kind of comfort in this, despite how dejecting the mention of Senna and her fate is.
"Senna knew, didn't she?"
"She knew and she abhorred it. But as I mentioned, the woman was strange in her ways and her beliefs." A moment of pause stood between the two as Onyx merely stared at Saadia who was sleeping soundly. Elsa stood an arm's reach away, searching Onyx's face and finding so much she couldn't see before; things that she could definitely get used to—things that might very well undermine her fears of where his intent truly lies. She takes another moment to study the unique features in his face. People with long pointy ears are not common, though it's hardly something Elsa can say is the strangest thing she has seen even in Arendelle; after all, the trolls were not exactly human faces, and she has seen them quite often as of late. But aside from that, Elsa can't help but wonder what is the story behind the red mark on the left side of his face—a true contrast to his grey and pale skin; of course his black hair that is obviously used to wearing a helmet is another characteristic that helps his skin glow. Elsa can almost see what his hair would look like if it were groomed. Elsa knew the wonders some royal attention did to Kristoff's hair. Then of course what would he look like if he didn't wear armor? What if he was just in common clothing? Or perhaps given some Arendelle attire? Finding the thought of Onyx in Arendelle somewhat horrifying, as it was strange, Elsa shook the thoughts off just in time for Onyx to turn his face away from her sight. "But you can wander around Whiterun and the entire continent of Tamriel seeking for a way to get back to your world for all I care," and just like that, his ever so 'charming' self came back with the tone of voice and the rough ways he uses words, "but as far as I'm concerned, your captors and my enemies are one and the same. They have a purpose to have you in Skyrim and they crossed my path—something I do not take lightly. So with that said, it would be prudent of you to follow me since I have a motive to destroy your kidnappers."
A rather strange and violent logic, but it does have its merits that Elsa can believe in, so as Onyx reaches for his helmet and slides it over his face, she made her decision. Closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, Elsa reaches for her cloak, and slips it over her shoulders, snapping the apparel together with the brooch, momentarily remembering that this jewelry was Gerda's choice. Of course the thought reaffirms just how much she wants to go home; seeing Anna and the rest of the people close to her, to be back home to the comfort of her own world… Elsa would definitely be able to set some of these apprehensions aside.
"You do not plan on making me a meal sometime in the future, are you?" of course there is that fear. Standing up after leaving a small bag on Saadia's nightstand, Onyx gives his attention to Elsa.
"If that was the case, I would have casted aside my inhibitions and took a bite out of my curiosity long ago," he responds to her. "So to be blunt, you do not give me a reason to do so."
"An adequate answer."
"Glad you think so, Snow Queen."
Despite his response insinuating that he thought about drinking her blood, Elsa can take his word, after all, he has shown more than enough reasons to trust him, despite all the things that makes her weary of him. In the grand scheme of things, Onyx is right: he is her best chance and they share the same enemy and part of her thought about Senna's words about having patience in Onyx and his uncertainty. If anything else, Elsa can take solace in Senna who trusted Onyx despite his actions; a woman that seemed so kind and opposite of Onyx. A woman who died for the Dragonborn.
"With that said, I suppose you have a plan?" Elsa takes one more moment to straighten out her cloak, trying to keep herself busy in action as Onyx walks past her and stops in front of the door.
"I do. But I will ask that you do not speak of my vampirism so openly. The road to High Hrothgar will be long and demanding and I do not need anymore vampire slaying cults after me."
The man in Elisif's court, Falk, is the first thing that comes to Elsa's mind. She wanted to mention him, but decides its best to leave it alone for now. "High Hrothgar? Are we going to encounter more mythological creatures who are out to take your head off your shoulders?" Elsa sprouts the words with a smirk, getting an unimpressed posture from the Dragonborn. She could only wish that his helmet were still off to so she can see his face.
"How amusing, but no. We will be crossing paths with the men who taught me much of what I know about using my Thu'um," letting her ponder on weight of that statement, Onyx reaches for the door but quickly pauses to face her again. "Oh, I'm sure it comes to no surprise but, they hate me."
To Be Continued.