Note:

Chapter two had a horrendous amount of typos, huh? Don't worry; the author noticed...but swears they proofread. Without their contacts. At three am. Finishing off a tall glass of orange soda.

They're aware beta readers exist, but due to psychological reasons none of you have time to listen to they aren't so eager to request their help...

. . . . .

End of the Line

Chapter Three

. . . . .

Talking to three people was difficult already, but when they were members of a powerful faction that made it even more difficult. Joanne was ashamed for taking advantage of Farkas' random idea of her origin story and Ria's kindness but that wasn't all. Of course she was mortified for how stupid she acted. If she was standing in front of any other three people in a public place barely dressed, she'd never leave the house again.

First things first, right? She needed clothes, but the closest merchant belonged to a group. She couldn't remember Khajiit lore off the top of her head, but the friendlies in Skyrim were always in a camp stirring stew and giving random lines about how much the weather sucked compared to back home.

Every pair of cat eyes fell on her as she approached their camp, not in a good way. It was that sort of bewildered expression as if she'd broken every social rule flawlessly.

"Would you like to browse?" The merchant, Ri'saad if she remembered correctly, asked professionally.

She flinched, arms crossing tighter around her as she looked down at the merchant sitting cross-legged in front of the tent. If he realized she didn't belong in this world - which she wouldn't doubt if they had a sense of smell like an ordinary cat – he maintained a calm vibe. The beast races always fascinated her, but it turns out that seeing an adult human sized cat in real life is uncanny as it gets.

Joanne sucked in a breath before nodding. She tried to tell him what she was shopping for, but couldn't force the words out. The less she drew attention to her state of, well, undress the better. She hoped he understood as her embarrassed gaze kept trying to lead him to herself in general while also showing how many coins she had. She hadn't bothered to count them herself.

She was quietly relieved by Ri'saad's discretion, going through containers without making inappropriate comments his friends could overhear. But she was still being stared at, not just from the Khajiit who probably weren't approached for casual conversation by Skyrim natives.

There was a duo of Whiterun guards going down the path, probably on their way to their next post. Joanne felt the leer of one of them who stopped. They tried to make it look casual, leaning against a stone formation as if this skin slicing chill was what made them hot under the collar. There was no way she could tell their gender with their uniform and they couldn't possibly tell hers with the lack of obvious detail even through thin clothing. Some people just need to let loose and be horny. Joanne told herself was almost ecstatic to take the first outfit Ri'saad withdrew, one of the copy paste blacksmith outfits. Shoes would have to wait. Her hands were clammy as they dropped the coins at his feet. He confusedly tried to go into the quote about warm sand or whatever but Joanne was already sprinting up to the gate and she swore she heard amused chuckling that didn't belong to any of the Khajiit.

The two guards normally posted at the gate exchanged looks as she charged up to them clutching her outfit and five coins desperately. She briefly thought they were going to launch into the dialogue about the dragon attack preventing them from opening the gate to just anybody.

They turned their heads to each other, confusion radiating. That was all. Joanne awkwardly stood there waiting, sometimes looking over her shoulder to make sure no one was behind her trying to make a sketchy grab. She practically tip toed past them against the gate and pushed on it, and finally one of them spoke.

"The Jarl lifted entry restriction for now." He informed her, all business despite joining the other guard in bewilderment.

"Rumors say the Dragonborn's slaying a lot of the major threats." The other female guard hastily added. "Of course, the Whiterun guards are doing their part too. You should be able to rest on your stay."

Joanne just nodded politely before scurrying inside. She would feel safe once she was in an area where help would break down the door at the first sign of crime. A private room to reflect on all her poor life choices was desired as well.

. . . . .

Even though Riverwood was set up to be the starter town, Joanne always thought Whiterun was better at it. Whiterun had access to a faction, a Jarl, plot information, followers and even a place to live. Even though Joanne was in a hurry to reach the inn without drawing too much attention currently, she still admired the scenery. It had a good atmosphere. What were they even going for by making Riverwood the first prompted destination after Helgen?

Joanne was nearly tackled to the ground by children playing tag, narrowly avoided getting asked the dreaded Gray-Mane or Battleborn question and was almost frozen into polite refusal when that one Gray-Mane woman selling jewelry looked her right in the eyes and just looked too sweet to turn down especially considering her future quest giving. And even then once she exhaustedly collapsed against the inn door she still took a moment to admire the scenery. She wondered if Breezehome was still free...if she could ever make enough gold to live here.

No! Why would I consider living here? She thought suddenly, gritting her teeth and shoving the door open with all the strength of the person who was trying to leave from the other side. If I lived in Whiterun I would fall into a peaceful existence like everyone else here. I need to contribute. I need to do something. But if the Dragonborn is out there somewhere, they're taking the place of what you'd expect someone trapped in a fictional world would do. Oh fuck! My brain hurts!

The stench of alcohol and smoke from a boiling pot immediately filled Joanne's nostrils. She barely had a moment to process the comforting aura of the inn, however, because a body was hurled her way in tune with the strumming of a lute.

Joanne screeched, twisting herself against an empty table and clumsily falling backward against it. But the body- The person was still alive and managed not to smash their head against the wall...just their back. Upon closer inspection though the fresh cuts on their face and blood leaking nose they were a random Imperial guy.

The thrower was a woman decked out in armor, face contorted in a grimace. She brushed her hands like that random guy was light as a feather, and didn't seem too concerned when he staggered and silently surrendered. Everyone else took the cue to return to their drinks or chatter, except for one figure who remained in her spectator position.

"That's four in a row today, Uthgerd." The unfamiliar woman said, although hidden under a hood her voice was filled with amusement.

Uthgerd - now Joanne remembered - gave her a suspicious look. "It can't be a coincidence. You travel a lot; you must have told visitors to look for the hothead Nord woman in the back of the inn."

"I just care about keeping your fists strong, my friend." The unfamiliar woman insisted before making a smooth leap around her seat and landing in it almost perfectly.

Joanne was still watching, clutching her possibly flat lined heart. She expected the women to talk more, maybe elaborate on Uthgerd getting enough practice and her friend's questionable reasoning for what she did. Honestly, she was more focused on the unfamiliar woman who didn't just seem like another random. She wasn't wearing Thieves Guild armor, but the hood was either part of that set or an executioner hood. She instead wore an almost complete suit of leather armor. Even under the candlelight Joanne noticed the dark brown complexion of a Redguard but most features were obscured.

Joanne let out a shaky sigh and crept to the front counter. The owner, her name slipping her mind because she was still on high alert, didn't bat an eye at anything that happened in the last minute. To avoid any unnecessary conversation Joanne slammed the remaining gold on the table.

"I, um, I would like a room for a few days..."

The owner briefly looked at her face as she was obsessively cleaning the same stain on the counter. Then her eyes fell on the five coins, her professional smile faltering. "Sorry, but you're just five coins short. With this war going on, profits are tough-"

Joanne climbed on an empty bar stool at that point, shocking the owner into silence as she stared right into her eyes pathetically. In the back of her mind she knew she was making a scene, but couldn't sense any nosy or unsettled eyes on her back so she continued.

"I'll do anything." The desperation in her voice was real. If she had any pride to lose, it might have stung more. The only saving grace was the lute soundtrack being a thousand times too loud.

The innkeeper awkwardly stared at the coins in an effort to avoid her more than likely demonic gaze. "You're just too late. I already have people cooking, cleaning, and performing. There's simply no other jobs open unless...can you fight?"

Joanne could have cried right then if her dry, dusty ducts would have allowed it. All she could do was shake her head violently, receiving only a melodramatic sigh in return.

"You can stay here to get out of the cold, but I'm afraid I can't give you a room." It sounded final.

Joanne stumbled off the stool in a trance, moving like a clumsy zombie. She miserably grabbed the coins, tightened her grasp on her outfit but she didn't know where to go from there. The only other option was to go straight to the Jarl, but in the game Breezehome wasn't just offered to anybody. She couldn't fight. She couldn't dust a nasty floor, apparently. But as her thoughts became incoherent in a storm cloud, another person brushed past and took a seat on the stool she previously made a fool of herself on.

"Excuse me, but I won't be needing my room anymore." The confident and sultry voiced Redguard said.

Did I just think she sounded sultry?

"You sure?"

"Yes. I only decided to stay here in this inn for a few days to see if someone I arranged a meeting with would arrive. He seems to be late, but knowing him he'll be anywhere there's strong drink and chaos."

Joanne wasn't sure, but it seemed like the Redguard was adding all those details for her benefit. As if to swear she didn't give up her room to meet her good deed quota, although Joanne theorized she pulled that entire set up out of her ass.

Ten coins landed on the surface. It was kind of confusing when someone took pity the first time, but now Joanne was feeling insulted. The Redguard woman didn't seem to notice, making a gesture to her for the innkeeper before asking for an order of ale to warm her up on her travels.

Joanne caught the woman's eyes for a moment through the hood...she thought. It happened when she looked over her shoulder for just a moment, and Joanne hoped a scowl was present on her face before she turned away in a huff to find the room. The innkeeper, losing the fight to stay neutral, yelled out it was on the second floor helpfully.

The door slammed shut, but didn't appear to have a lock. Joanne didn't intend to be in here for a while, anyway. She was going to use this room to sleep, dive into dark thoughts maybe. She still needed to decide how she was going to escape this world yet bypass the real at the same time. For the time being she pressed herself to the door and stripped off the nightgown at long last.

She looked over herself briefly. She could see places that were definitely going to be bruised in the morning. Asking the innkeeper for some ice or something was out of the question; she made too much of a scene already...and she regretted thinking for one minute that other woman sounded attractive. She was pissed off thinking she actually responded to- No it wasn't begging.

It wasn't begging, right?

She was just trying to get across to the innkeeper how far she'd go to have a place to rest her head.

Joanne looked over the dress in her hands to distract herself from that. The material was strong, but she knew it wouldn't be of much help in combat. Skyrim definitely had to sacrifice appearance for warmth and overall practicality, not that she ever wore flattering clothes. Sometimes Chris tried to be her guide into the mind boggling world of matching colors and style, but Joanne could never keep up. Oh, Chris...

"So I'm thinking your top should be lighter shades, while the bottom is darker. It's important for the attention to be higher; it's awkward when people seem to be looking at your stomach or...elsewhere."

"Chris-"

"That's it! Look at this skirt!"

"It's ruffled."

"Yes! The ruffles will provide coverage - I know you like coverage - and feel of this material..."

Joanne didn't try to force a smile as Chris handed her the skirt and then seriously skipped to the shirt rack. Chris and Sam knew she wasn't the best at expressing herself. It made her feel like garbage when they were in their elements. Right here, right now Chris was having the time of her life in a clothing store.

Eventually the skirt found some matches: a pair of sheer black tights and a turquoise long sleeved blouse with decorative gold buttons. The shoes would come in time, but for the moment Joanne was shoved into the changing room and Chris was standing in front of it holding her breath and awaiting the results. Since when were tights allowed to be taken outside the packaging in the store? Er, never mind.

Joanne knew there was no way out of this unless she tried on the outfit. She hurriedly changed and tried not to catch her reflection in the mirror as she did so. Those store mirrors were narrow enough to trick people into thinking they're skinny...if she were any skinnier her skeleton would show.

A sudden clap erupted from outside. "I don't even take that long to dress! Come on!"

Joanne weakly pushed her glasses up her nose and reached for the handle. The doors flew open, apparently letting in the unnecessary amounts of store lights shine through on the wrong person. But there she was...awkwardly tugging at her sleeves and slouching before Chris' eyes. Chris' face was frozen in an unreadable expression all the while, oh no.

"Chris, if it's ugly just-"

"Joanne!"

Joanne stumbled back when Chris took a huge step forward as if walking on air. Chris was taller at five six, seven in heels so they weren't exactly eye to eye. But Joanne did find her eyes as Chris held her in a one sided hug.

"You can pull off fashionable clothes a lot more than you think!" Chris blubbered, actually getting a tear or two on the soft fabric.

Joanne's arms remained at her sides and she was still as a statue. She was thankful other shoppers were more concerned with locating usable changing rooms or modeling for their friends than wondering what tragedy must have happened to them.

"How do you feel, Joanne?"

"Well my stomach-"

"The clothes. Once we find some ankle boots to match this, oh my god, we could take pictures together and-"

"It's not me."

Chris' hold thankfully lightened and she stepped back, disappointment in her eyes.

"I'll never be like you." Joanne told her stoically, turning back to the changing room. "You're beautiful to the point you can say it and not be conceited, but I'm just...freaking homely."

That would be the last shopping trip Joanne was dragged to. Chris did, in fact, grab her arm and whisk her away to her favorite pastime but she couldn't have known it would be the last. Joanne didn't think of what she said then...they didn't talk about it afterward. They just went out for ice cream. Joanne wondered if the ice cream was Chris' way of making up for taking her against her will.

It was too late to regret past interactions. At least Skyrim's clothes weren't concerned about fashion, so Joanne gathered the dress-

"Priya!"

Joanne felt a body throw itself into the door. She could only gasp, adding what little weight she contributed against it. But without a locking mechanism and only her, the intruder managed to knock her forward and throw the door open.

"Priya! You have to get out of Whiterun now; some Redguards..." The somewhat familiar voice was in a breathless panic already, but faltered as they saw Joanne.

Or more accurately: they had a terrible glimpse of her bare back and legs. Joanne was so startled that she, herself, was slow to turn around clutching the dress in front of her like a shield. She was probably meant to feel embarrassment or anger from an intruder catching her in a vulnerable state, but then she realized yet another Companion was in the doorway.

Who else would it be but Farkas' "charming", difficult to impress brother Vilkas? He clearly expected someone else, maybe that Redguard woman, and his face went from its usual neutral stare to almost comically shocked. In another place and time Joanne could have at least chuckled about it.

Accidental walk in or no, Vilkas' face went right back to neutral anyway. "Have you seen a female Redguard? Not the one who works here! Priya- The Redguard will be armed and-"

Still shocked, all Joanne managed was to nod vigorously.

"Can you not speak?" Vilkas growled as he made a switch from worried to stressed. "Tell me where she is! They want to harm her; I'm sure of it! I must..."

Just as Vilkas whirled around to leave the sound of someone breaking furniture blasted all the way to the second floor. There was a collection of shocked gasps swiftly drowned out by the voice of the innkeeper yelling at someone to leave. Whoever she was, she seemed like the type to kick ass if needed but went silent fast.

"Priya!" Uthgerd shouted out in rare distress.

For an extremely tense moment Joanne met eyes with Vilkas again, and he looked just as pale as she for a second or two. Vilkas came dangerously close to slicing his own leg at the speed of taking his weapon. Joanne tried to warn him not to get involved, but this Priya must have been worthy enough to defend because he disappeared in a flash.

Joanne was left hopelessly out of the loop, but without company hurriedly put on her clothes. She didn't waste time tying on the apron, leaving that in a sad state on the floor while she briefly contemplated hiding under the bed...but what if the violent party downstairs brought torches or fire spells? Uthgerd and Vilkas could handle themselves well in combat, and that was just a fact. She had no idea if this was a good idea or not, but she tore out of there and made her clumsy way down the stairs.