I watch the face sculptor carefully take measurements of my friend's face. The woman's tools of trade are beside her and I can't help shuddering at the sight, each instrument looking crueler than the last. Twisted hooks, curved blades, and other sharp instruments shine in the torchlight. My friend's hazy eyes roll around in her skull. She sees me and I throw her an encouraging smile. The Khajiit's lips peel back and she begins laughing like a maniac. The sculptor lightly slaps her to silence her, then tells me, "Try not to make her laugh.". As she measures my lover's face I ask, "Can you remember her original appearance, just in case she ever gets the urge to change back?".

The Bosmer makes a humming noise before she finally answers me. "I suppose so, but it would cost you. I'd have to write down the measurements, keep them for gods know how long, and make some molds. I'd also have to sketch her. Although I will give you a fair warning ahead of time. Even with the sketches, molds, and memory the woman might not look the same if you have me 'restore' her.". I look at my lover's dopey grin as I question the Bosmer once again. "How much would it cost to get the sketches and molds done?". The sculptor keeps measuring the Khajiit's head as she responds, "Two hundred gold.". I dig around in my gold purse.

We only have two hundred and fifty gold left (we've already paid the sculptor). I consider asking my love if it's okay if we spend it, but she's too out of it to really answer. I'm not sure what the sculptor gave her, but it's made the Khajiit as high as oblivion. So, it looks like I have to make the call myself. I hand over the gold. "Take the sketches.". The Bosmer nods and moves away, picking up a pad of paper and quill. Somehow the woman manages to sketch my love, and the pictures are absolutely perfect. She even pulls some paints from beneath her bench and begins filling in the picture with color. Finally, a perfect representation of my love looks up at me from the sculptor's pad of plain paper.

The Bosmer puts the paper off to the side, then pulls out a box. Inside is a bag of wet clay, and a knife. The Bosmer hands me the box and demands, "Water.". I offer a glare before doing as she commands. When I return the woman rips open the clay and pours it into the water, stirring it until it's a thick mush. Finally, she calls my love's name. The Khajiit stands and makes her way over to the face sculptor, nearly tripping and busting open her head as she walks. I rush to her side and help her over, sitting her down by the Bosmer. The sculptor does something completely unexpected. She gently begins rubbing my love's neck, talking to her in a calm voice about nothing in particular.

Then, the woman strikes like a cobra lunging for a rabbit. Her hands tightens on the Khajiit's neck and slams her face into the goo. I expect my love to fight, but she just lies there. Finally, Galathil yanks my love's head from the clay. She carefully places the box to the side and yanks a piece of cloth from her pocket, wiping off the Khajiit's face. She looks almost pleased as she announces, "All finished. Now we can get onto the fun part.". She pulls another vial from her pocket, pouring the liquid into her patient's mouth. I watch my lover's eyes roll into the back of her head as she falls over, unconscious. The sculptor clears off a table and yanks the Khajiit onto it, the instruments placed right beside the unconscious woman.

I walk over and question, "Can I watch?". Galathil laughs. "You want to watch you lover's face get cut off?". I nervously gulp and splutter, "Cut off?". She picks up a curved knife and waves off my concern. "Not literally, but almost. Most people can't stand watching more than a few minutes of the procedure, but feel free to. You might even be able to tell me what you want.". I look down at the sleeping Khajiit as I answer, "She's perfect the way she is.". The face sculptor rolls her eyes and mumbles, "Charming, but that's not what you paid me for. Now, care to say anything before I begin?".

When I shake my head the woman goes to work. My love's pelt is already neat and trimmed, so the Bosmer can easily reach the skin. Black blood oozes out of my love's face as the woman peels away the flesh of her cheeks, breaking and pushing the bones up higher. Vomit floods my mouth and I rush to the side of the wooden platform, cleansing my body over the side of the railing. When I return the woman is sewing the flesh back up, but she flicks up my lover's eyelids. I want to question her on what she's doing, but I don't have the chance. She makes two incisions in each of the Khajiit's eyes, then pours a thick dye into it. I watch as my love's eyes darken, becoming scarlet instead of her normal pink.

Without missing a beat the woman dabs something over the eyes, then flips the dagger around and puts the blade near the Khajiit's fangs. She cuts half of the woman's fangs off, then makes them into actual fangs instead of hacked off teeth. Another burst of vomit fills me and I consider looking away, but I don't do it fast enough. The sculptor all but punches the Khajiit in the face, her nose snapping. As the sculptor rearranges the bone I ask, "Is there anyway I can speed this up?". Galathil nods and commands, "Go get some black dye from underneath my bench.". I do as she says, thankful to escape the sight of her rearranging my lover's face.

After I hand her the dye I decide I can't watch the rest of this, and go to get a beer. When I return the woman lying on the table isn't my lover. Her dark gold pelt has exquisite black patterns throughout it, her deep red eyes gleam in the torchlight, the ivory fangs that sprout from her mouth only come about halfway to her chin, the woman's mane is twice as giant as it was, her feathered fur is even finer, and she seems taller. Wait, taller? Darker fur? How in oblivion is that even physically possible? I ask the sculptor and she snarls, "It's too late for me to explain now. Just accept it.". I sigh as the woman packs up her things, passing a bottle to me as she says, "Give it to the woman. She should be fine and ready to go.".

As the Bosmer walks away I look back down at my lover. She's still beautiful, but I doubt she could ever look ugly. I put the bottle to her lips and pour it into her mouth, rubbing her throat to get her to swallow. It takes my love a few seconds after swallowing, but eventually she comes to. As she sits up she groans, bringing her hand up to her face. I rub her shoulder and ask, "How do you feel?". She licks her shortened fangs and grumbles, "My face is sore.". I don't tell her that the sculptor ripped open her cheeks, but I do assure my love, "That's to be expected, but don't worry about it. It'll go away in a few days.".

I assist my lover up and we go find Esbern, then begin heading up to the city. My love is still a little tipsy due to whatever anesthetics the sculptor gave her in order to do the surgery. I allow the Khajiit to lean on my shoulder as Esbern asks, "So, why did she go through with the face changing?". I don't feel the need to tell the man my love has a criminal record, and I quickly excuse it as, "She wanted to change some minor blemishes she thought she had.". The man looks at her and mumbles, "Her entire appearance isn't a 'minor blemish'.". I feel the hair on the back on my neck prickle as I growl, "I'd suggest keeping that big fucking mouth of yours close.".

Pride swells in my heart. I manage to shove 'fuck' in there somewhere. The man huffs and puffs himself up, but he apparently doesn't know what's good for him. "She shouldn't have had the face sculptor work on her.". I consider draining the man of blood then and there, but I manage to hold back. However, I make myself a promise I know I'll keep. I promise myself on every deity and daedra that I WILL taste Delphine and Esbern's blood. Preferably as they slide to the floor, their skin cooling against my fingers. But my anger is too much, and as we walk I hiss at the man, "What my lover does with her body is only her concern, not yours!".

That shuts the man up, and we leave the city without any further conversation. The carriage driver gives my lover an odd look, but allows us in all the same. I use the last of my money to get us to Riverwood. Damn, I really hope her plan of changing her face works. As the carriage rocks down the road my love clutches to me, seemingly in a trance as she watches the carriage floor. I gently whisper to her and stroke her thick mane, her dark gold fur gleaming in the moonlight. Eventually my love falls asleep, and Esbern follows her lead. I sigh and watch the sky, always prepared for any sort of attack. Maybe I'm paranoid, but you can never be too careful in Skyrim.

The sun slowly peaks its head out as the carriage comes to a halt, the horse snorting. Damn, did we forget our horses in Riften? Wait, did we have horses in Riften? Damn it! Where did we leave those beast? After two seconds of thinking I give up. Wherever they are they aren't here, so they're useless to us. Looks like we'll have to steal two more. Actually, I'll have to steal two more. I don't want my lover to end up in jail again. I wake up Esbern and my love. Esbern quickly jumps down and rushes off into Riverwood, but it takes me a few moments to rouse my love from her slumber. When she comes to she rubs her face, looks around at everything, and asks, "What happened?".

I lead her over to the stream and tell her, "Are you pleased with your appearance? The sculptor offered to let me choose what to change, but I ultimately left it up to her. I also paid a little extra for her to record what your original face looked like, so she can go back and return you to normal.". My lover and I are now kneeling beside the water. My love is silent as she looks at her reflection, then brings her hand up to touch her new face. I notice her claws are now wicked miniature blades, and have been turned from ivory white to ebony black. The Khajiit touches her cheek and says, "I like it, but it'll take some getting use to.". I nod and agree, "Not everyone sees a stranger when they look in a mirror.".

My lover and I stand, following the path Esbern took. We stop outside the inn, both of us refusing to go in for some reason. I think we both know why. We could walk away right now, but the second we go in there we're screwed. This was suppose to be our last 'task', but we both know that's a lie. We're going to be sent somewhere to do something. If we turned around and left we wouldn't have to face that. But we both know we're going inside. We just need a little push. I turn to my lover and ask, "Ready?". She nods. "Ready.". I open the door.