. . . . .
End of the Line
Chapter Five
. . . . .
The worst depression sinkholes Joanne had weren't so frequent she could build up a mental defense, but also weren't far away enough. She never told anyone when she felt her worst. It was the opposite of what her therapists encouraged, but frankly she didn't want to pester others with her comments of despair.
Mom and Dad were just living their lives and all they knew was that their daughter had depression she was being treated for. She never gave them reason to think she wasn't benefiting. The three would go on outings up until she was seventeen. By seventeen she just stopped trying to believe she wasn't taking up the space they could have had a better child.
Chris and Sam were too supportive of her. They really really needed to stop that, but wouldn't leave even when Joanne accidentally shouted at them with enough pent up frustration. Both were unreasonably happy and could say and mean it. While Chris was openly emotional anyway Sam had a natural light almost never turned off.
Now, stuck in Skyrim, Joanne returned to the inn mentally sinking and swept away into guilt for lying to all of the Companions. She was wasting their time. She would never be able to fight. She wasn't a useful ally in any capacity.
She spent the remains of day one rolling around in bed feeling sorry for herself. She spent so long in there she was truly baffled she didn't leave a human shaped dent in the mattress. A mattress stuffed with hay that was itchy and uncomfortable but she didn't dare feel ungrateful for having this at all.
She was scheduled to meet with the Companions whenever able. She kept telling herself she wasn't going. They were going to forget about her. Patience was key.
It was either day one or two depending on when the counting started, but she was woken from her dreamless sleep at the sound of a downpour on the roof. The innkeeper downstairs shouted out to Saadia if she brought the linens inside. Joanne lifted her heavy head off the pillow, looking down long enough to realize she'd been wearing her blacksmith dress this whole time.
Before she could get a grip on her thoughts, she remembered one of the last days she spent alone with Sam. With their light brown skin, big and curious brown eyes, short and neatly styled auburn hair sometimes they expressed contentment to not stand out in a crowd...while Joanne could pick them out instantly. For some reason she wanted to be face to face to say it.
Joanne hadn't put much thought into her gym outfit; she threw on a cotton long sleeved shirt and baggy sweatpants that miraculously shared shades and stepped into some beaten up slip on shoes. Sam was in a tee with an obscure reference a size too big with mom shorts and a pair of athletic shoes. One was more prepared than the other and the answer wasn't immediately obvious.
That didn't stop Sam from making a hasty approach to the weight lifting area. It was a Thursday morning so they had it all to themselves. As Joanne shuffled to the selection of colorful smaller weights she had a grain of relief there was almost no one to judge her weakness. Joanne followed Sam, pretending to contemplate how many pounds to lift while they grabbed the first weights that looked reasonable.
"You've got to start somewhere, Joanne." They told her, eyes ablaze with determination.
"Please Sam, don't rush into-"
Sam made a struggled sound as they attempted to lift both weights. The weights weren't too big, but they had Sam falling on their knees in an instant and breathing ragged.
Joanne was too shocked to move, not even able to ask if they were okay.
Sam promptly stood as if that didn't just happen, arm brushing their suddenly sweaty hair off their forehead. It wasn't clear how their arm muscles weren't shredded.
"Just a stepping stone." Sam finally said with their typical, bright smile. They didn't wait for Joanne's reaction, instead twirling back to the lighter weight box as 'secretly' as possible.
Sam would always say "smart" had two forms. Book and street. They may have had the best grades of anyone Joanne knew throughout their entire school years, but outside a classroom they were easy to take advantage of. They always said they wanted to help kill the stereotype intelligence and smug assholes went hand in hand. Joanne believed it; she'd never seen Sam judge others for not remembering complicated formulas. She certainly wouldn't have decided to keep in touch if they mocked her for all the times her negative thinking ruined her decent grades.
Sam didn't have it in them to think negatively. Here they were twenty years old finally trying to get in shape after passing up the opportunity to do it in school. Appearing more masculine wasn't only one benefit considering they spent too long sitting around reading or studying, so much so their coordination and physical strength suffered. They had a long way to go before being physically healthy.
She wanted to curse herself for agreeing to do this, but Sam finally handed her two pound weights smiling encouragingly. Of course all she could do was stare dumbly, forcing them to explain.
"No one ever said the journey to being in shape was easy." Sam told her gently. "The most important thing I learned from, well, a life of studying is that you shouldn't label something impossible so fast."
Joanne finally accepted the weights, of course they weren't heavy but she couldn't remember ever lifting. She didn't want to bring down their mood...so her thoughts shot out her mouth before she could hold back. "You know what I've learned after a life of nothing?"
Sam looked unchanged, except for their eyes dimming.
No, they didn't bring that horrible question up again afterward. Joanne couldn't believe Sam thought she would be able to do something. She could see Sam achieving, but not herself. One of her therapists would probably tell her to use this to motivate herself to take up combat lessons. Do with Sam's encouragement what they expected. There was a reason Joanne particularly disliked Mrs. Nichols and her unwavering faith in humanity.
Sam would get a kick out of learning sword skills. Joanne thought, forcing herself to stand. What would they do if they knew I was trying to learn, though? They would be the loudest person in the cheering section, wielding copy paste motivational quotes. I wonder...if I could borrow just a pinch of their enthusiasm...
Joanne washed the sweat and dirt from yesterday with lukewarm water in a basin. She didn't remember having this in her room before, and felt a jolt of paranoia at the thought either the innkeeper or Saadia just walked in like it was nothing and could do so any time. A splash of the water to the face, and she was aware how pathetic that sounded. Well, maybe once she risked a few sliced arteries she wouldn't have to encounter fear so much. That would be great, but she wasn't expecting much.
She exited her room, sloppily tying the apron around her dress just to complete the look. Maybe from a distance she could fool someone into believing her to be a merchant or blacksmith actually contributing to society. She knew she was going to regret not choosing better clothes for a harsh setting, but honestly in the depths of her mind she didn't want to think she would be left alone in extreme combat...she didn't believe it would take much to convince her to make a clumsy misstep on her own weapon.
. . . . .
The walk to Jorrvaskr didn't feel as much like a death march this time, although Joanne knew a lot of gazes briefly locked on her before returning to whatever. She understood there wasn't much hoopla about a possible new resident, so she expected some people to find her presence weird. Being aware didn't prevent her from cringing each time it happened. It was that same kind of flushed discomfort from being called up to the front of the class in school...a feeling that most adults would say they grew out of.
Once at the mead hall, Joanne felt her tiniest. There wasn't anyone walking around the entrance or large table room from what she could see, not even scratchy brooms across the floor in the distance. She almost thought time skipped ahead to that quest where it was attacked...but no bodies.
"Hello?" Joanne asked shakily, peering around the arch into that table room. Not even an echo.
The room was at least in top condition minus the assortment of food and drink. Even candles were left unattended. She didn't hear the clash of steel, yelling, fistfights...but she couldn't be that early since the shops were open. She remembered enough about the games, but drew the line at memorizing npc schedules. However, unless there was a spontaneous mission there should have been Companions roaming around. But if no one's around...! They could have forgotten the training session...! Just as that lovely thought entered her mind-
"What a surprise!" A half amused, half genuinely surprised male voice spoke.
Joanne dropped her face into her hands, trying not to groan as Skjor leaned in and examined her in a way she could only think of as mocking. He wasn't close enough to breathe on her, yet she felt something like pins and needles under her skin.
"Ah, the more I look at you... Aela should've snatched you up; you're definitely the support archer type." Skjor clicked his tongue and leaned away, making a resigned gesture by the time Joanne looked up.
"Be serious, Skjor." Joanne spat, not in control of her own disbelieving stare.
It must not have been as piercing as Joanne hoped because Skjor folded his arms, shrugging. "About you gaining the skill to pitch in when necromancers' minions, vampires or dragons are on the attack? I wouldn't dream of it."
There was a moment of crushing silence, short lived due to Skjor's exasperated sigh.
"Preparations are still being made, but you won't get through a training session with that much tension." He dropped the obnoxious expression long enough to point to the table with bottles of mead. "Whether you like it or not, get a few drinks in. I'm using my precious free time to watch the inspiring transition from rookie to master swordswoman, and I imagine you want those results just as fast."
Joanne would be lying if she said the drink from the other day didn't have an alluring quality. But she still gawked at Skjor, asking with her stupidly wide eyes why they were so casual about drunken combat. All fantasy setting were remarkably casual about booze now that she thought about it, but unlike fiction holding a real weapon on shaky feet couldn't be the best idea.
Skjor had no proper reply, just taking some steps back farther down the wall patiently waiting for the show. The less Joanne reminded herself how annoyed she was he didn't seem to take her seriously, the better. She breathed in like she might try a Shout any moment before taking some...random...steps toward the table. No intent. Her fingers happened to extend toward a bottle-
"Go for it!" Skjor's impatient cry genuinely made her heart stop for an earth shattering moment.
Joanne whipped her head to him, unsure if terror or irritation reached her face first. "You're not setting me up for failure, are you? I can't imagine mead helping me stay on my feet!" Yes, maybe if she sounded mad she could avoid making a total fool of herself.
Unfortunately, it seemed nothing could catch Skjor off guard. He was remarkably calm, giving an idle examine of his hand as he took his time replying. Was he always like this? Maybe she was just flustered by everything, still, but she didn't quickly recall game Skjor existing just to screw with people then die.
Eventually Skjor raised his gaze back to hers, flawlessly changing to neutral. "You might have seen a man during that summoning of yours, Torvar, or smelled his breath. It's not secret he has a constant thirst, and I'm still watching to find out how it doesn't affect his fighting ability."
"That's why I'm shocked you're encouraging me to drink." Joanne admitted, folding her arms and shrinking away. "Drinks can help force words we might not normally say-"
"Which you know all about, don't you?" Skjor interrupted, voice obnoxiously teasing.
Of course even that got to Joanne, making her arms tighten dangerously close to her heart without much flesh to cushion impact. Did he know she was bullshitting that day? Because if so, okay, how was he not considered the smartest of the group? But then again, she didn't need to observe herself in action to know she and subtlety would be mortal enemies if not for the additional depression to fend off.
Surprisingly Skjor went on, the teasing slowly fading. "Look, none of us want to hear about a helpless civilian getting mauled or burnt to ash on the road. It's also fairly common for one to not want to be yet another casualty. I assume you want to see Skyrim in better shape before your life's snuffed out. So I'm trying to contribute... I didn't want anything to do with raising a sword against you, but I'll give advice if it means you won't get killed."
Aw, you have no logical reason to care.
"She is extremely stiff." Another male voice spoke, causing Joanne and Skjor to look up in time for Athis to approach. Though he clearly heard them, there was no concern to be found on his face. The only thing that kept Joanne from running away was that he didn't seem to be in the mood to initiate more conversation with her than he needed to.
"Consider what I said, Anne." Skjor said like nothing happened, waving dismissively before approaching the table himself for a drink.
"There will be time for that once our training's done." Athis said sternly, looking between them. Since Skjor exited the conversation, Athis was primarily judging Joanne's increasingly emotional face.
The words were like a lump stuck in her throat. Joanne didn't want to dislodge them, accidentally succeeding when she swallowed. She was twiddling her fingers pathetically before she knew it, opening her mouth to speak.
"Let's not waste the rest of our day with pleasantries." Athis went on, voice expressing more discontent than his obviously tired eyes ever could."Kodlak insisted you and I would be quick to read each other, and I'll take his word for it. Now it's up to you not to prove him wrong."
"Lay on the pressure!" Skjor cried out, raising a tankard in toast.
"That's all you have to say!" Joanne cried, distressed as Athis threw the doors open and pinched the edge of her sleeve to guide her along.
The normal sight of the training grounds only made Joanne's mind full to capacity with cursing herself for not working out enough. She'd never been an athletic person, now she was going to suffer the consequences. It didn't help to have Aela seated nearby like some Jarl they had to provide live entertainment for, and Joanne didn't bother to protest about that. If anyone was going to judge, of course it would be her.
"We don't have enough armor to loan to you, so I hope your clothes aren't constricting." Athis' distant voice broke the painful silence.
Joanne just shook her head. It seemed like that was all she could do when words failed, luckily Athis read the room enough to not repeat himself. In an effort to distract herself from the guilt clogging her thoughts, she watched Athis move from place to place in search of the appropriate weapons on the rack. Maybe it was an elf thing, but he was graceful and quick. Unless he were to try lifting beyond his strength level, Joanne didn't believe anything would knock the wind out of him.
Aela's eyes bore into hers when she just turned her head. Joanne swore she was sweating instantly. She didn't believe she had a problem about inappropriate eye contact, so she had to be judging her every time she was around. Joanne caught herself wondering what she did- No, she knew she was out of place here. It was just that Aela was more perceptive than most...unless everyone else was in denial.
"Get your head out of the clouds." Athis' voice interrupted the silence again, especially when he tossed a weapon at Joanne and she felt a blunt strike on her leg.
Joanne clumsily gathered the weapon, not even needing to see her reflection to know disappointment fell over her face. "This is a child's play sword."
Athis took a leap to the center of the yard, pointing a play sword of his own at her more threatening than he had any right to look. "Think instead: trees were sacrificed to make this sword. Someone spent precious time forming its shape when they didn't have to. This might not be the first sight you imagine when a sword comes to mind, but it can do damage all the same. Iron and steel can cut your flesh, but wood will leave bruises and splinters."
Joanne just couldn't see it, only staring blankly at him. Until he lunged suddenly, giving her no time to raise her own sword when his curved last minute and struck her side. The pain registered immediately, the shock sending her staggering and embarrassingly shaking a little.
"It hurts, doesn't it?"
"Obviously! I don't know how to deflect or- Or block- I mean- You need to show me these things!"
Joanne wasn't actually angry at Athis, and even hoped he didn't believe that as he lowered his sword in display of no intent to harm as he approached. But soon she was tongue tied regardless as he approached her and grabbed her hands to properly wield the sword. He was saying something as he pried fingers from their original places, completely altered her original clueless heavy grasp of the weapon. She was meant to absorb his words, but was scared. If he looked up once, just one time, he would have to see the inner lost and pathetic normal person who'd never fought in real life ever instead of the supposed Breton blessed to have magical gifts just by existing.
One hundred years later, he was finished. No, but...Joanne's brain that once went totally dark before the reboot absorbed nothing that Athis said despite him observing her improved grip of the weapon. She had nothing to be proud of, but he seemed content with this change.
And the moment was over when Athis leaped back as if dodging arrows. That was flexibility and speed Joanne could never hope to have, but she tried to focus on reading his face next. Really, she just needed to keep looking at him in general if she wanted to succeed. If she wanted to stay alive. So much if.
"Maintain that grip! Don't crush your legs together! Plant your feet!"
Hearing Athis raise his voice like her gym teacher back in high school was something Joanne didn't know she would experience today. She was already overwhelmed, but tried not to loudly scoff or whimper as she followed his advice. He didn't need repeat, thank fuck. He did, however, stand there arms folded appearing patient but no doubt heavily annoyed inside.
Joanne didn't know how long she spent fumbling with the weapon, getting gentle reminders from Aela every once in a while. Just getting her sword in a position it would actually stab someone seemed like it would be the entire lesson. She felt hot, sweaty and a pain in her leg from a goddamn play sword's touch. She wanted nothing more than to drop everything, leave before this went from cringe inducing to humiliating. The change could happen sooner than one might think.
"Plant your feet!"
Joanne's knees were buckling, her bare feet sweaty even against the cool ground. She wore her vision was blurring, from what she didn't know. Athis' voice still came in loud and clear, but he looked like a nondescript shape as he yet again rushed forward as if to attack. She needed quick reactions, composure even in the face of danger and balance. He and Aela kept trying to drill that.
But she was tired after, what, a laughable twenty-six minutes? She genuinely didn't know the time, couldn't even tell from the position of the sun or whatever yet. The haircut that was supposed to keep her cool for the summer, not even touching the end of her neck with the front swept aside? Somehow she felt the sweat on her scalp, and being aware of that just made her feel gross.
When she felt tired, gross and useless of course she wasn't going to be anywhere close to good condition. She was supposed to suck it up, though. Native Nords had it worse, you know...getting slaughtered in a pointless war because of their devotion.
Joanne didn't have nearly enough passion for anything. When Athis made another approach, this time from the side of course his sword struck her in the hip. It didn't hurt nearly as much as the other times, but her weak legs sent her falling in a heap and choking back a swear or two.
"I don't have to tell you a real battle would see you slaughtered instantly." Athis scolded. Disappointment and irritation wrapped up in a horrible package.
Joanne's cheeks were already flushed to neon red from movement alone. She hoped Athis didn't take her look for embarrassment, take another pinch of pity from the seemingly endless supply. He just walked away, setting aside the sword to swipe a bottle of mead nearby.
As for Aela, she unceremoniously rose from her seat and walked right by without a word or glance her way. Well, fine. Joanne certainly didn't intend to impress anyone today. The weirdest part was that she didn't hear a muttered comment about her. Come on. She could have at least let her overhear one insult...they'd have feelings to bond over maybe.
So training was over...until a very large shield fell within reach.
"What's this?" Joanne asked, dumbly scrambling to grab it. The cool steel was a relief for her scorching hands.
Athis had a delayed reaction, positioning himself somewhat off center with the play sword pointed to her. "You'll need to defend yourself somehow outside Whiterun. At least learn how to deflect non magic attacks." He seemed to roll his eyes, clearly done with all of this. "One day simply won't be enough to give you the needed reflexes obviously, so this is the best I can offer right now."
"And I'll take it!" Joanne yelped, putting her hand through the holding...pieces... The terminology would come later. She was just suddenly psyched up about the fact her hand wasn't small enough to not fit.
"When all you have is a shield, your reflexes will either save or kill you." Athis told her sternly making the smallest steps closer. The sword remained where it had been aimed, until it was poking the steel wall in front of it. "We're going to focus solely on reflexes right now, as the only piece of advice you need for the shield is that you keep your grip. Even when your hand cramps or lose a finger, you never let go until you're in a safe area."
Joanne released her breath trying to fake a zen like state as she adjusted her hand in the appropriate place. It was like a one size fits all thing much to her awe; she could probably curl up and keep most of her body out of harm. The sound of wood striking steel woke her up from her wandering mind, making her hurriedly straighten up and position the shield in front of her.
"Depending on the enemy's attack methods, you must learn to raise or lower the shield when appropriate. This is going to take speed. You need to read your opponent too, if you can."
"If I can...?"
"And don't lose faith in your only source of defense. Even if you're running for your life in a collapsing mine, that's your one chance of saving your life. It might seem like the odds aren't in your favor, but they can be. Don't doubt."
All I live on is doubts! And if that happened, oh fuck I can't imagine trying not to get crushed under rubble with no way of getting rescued-
"Get that fear out of your eyes!" Athis snapped that time, genuinely sounding a little pissed.
Joanne's back straightened and she instinctively raised the shield to both block Athis' face and her own.
Suddenly the door swung open to thankfully interrupt. "Athis raising his voice? Shit, this sounds good." Unfortunately, the speaker stepped out with heavy steps and holding a basket of fresh green apples. Joanne tried not to stare longingly at the fruit, mostly because they had to be in Vilkas' arms. She also noticed Vilkas wasn't wearing gloves or gauntlets of any sort, so his red obviously injured knuckles on his main hand was visible. She didn't doubt it was from the inn fight.
"Don't interrupt, Vilkas." Athis said in a low rumble. Then he charged.
Joanne had seconds to defend herself, somehow not expecting an attack even after all the lessons. She squeezed her eyes shut, lifting the shield as high as she could. As in steel is heavy as fuck, and she felt her muscles strain as she lifted what she could. Only to feel a hard strike in her stomach, making her gasp and fall down.
"You don't want me to talk Kodlak out of this?" Vilkas casually asked, slightly muffled from a bite of apple.
"Aela suggested the same, don't bother." Athis seriously replied on the brink of giving up.
If anyone was prepared to give up it should have been Joanne. She was sprawled on the ground, beaten and with her shield out of reach. She tried to lift her head and get a decent look at the guys to...she didn't know. Communicate she needed help maybe? After that horrible first impression with Vilkas? HELL NO! She shouted inwardly. Make yourself look like a total fool in front of these actually competent people but don't you DARE let them remember the worst moments! That's the only way you're going to survive by a thread socially!
Vilkas smacked his palms together probably to shake off the apple juices. Although Joanne's chaotic thoughts were close to warping it into sarcastic applause. "All I can say is that you need to suck it up with this one. Although it's tragic...we could have had Priya."
"More like you could have had Priya in your bed. Denial isn't healthy."
"Piss off."
"Ah, we all missed that while you were...what...counting straws in a cell all night?"
Joanne wanted to die more than ever as the seconds crawled. The only accomplishment was that Athis didn't get body slammed for bringing up a certain name. A certain someone Joanne could add to the list of those she didn't want to have to interact with ever again – that list was getting so long.
The training session continued into the afternoon keeping snail pace even when random interruptions didn't happen. Athis used a bathroom break to drive a dagger through a training dummy's head and cut through to the other side cleanly from his annoyed level. Joanne definitely wasn't meant to see, but it truly was an accident.
Joanne didn't know if the real problem lied in her sucking at everything, Athis not wanting to be an instructor, or Vilkas continuously coming back in to give random critiques or complain about the minor tasks Kodlak had him performing after making regularly making an ass of himself in town. It could have been a cocktail of many unfortunate things.
But the session went on until sunset, breaks for Athis and Joanne to have mental breakdowns and all. There was plenty of sword strikes against shield, if only Joanne could turn her strength on and off where appropriate; she took more falls than she was willing to count. As time went on she was covered in dirt, minor scrapes, and the beginning stages of bruising. Not the moment there wasn't a way to tell which bones were most affected by the impact, even anything was broken. She just knew everything was hurting and burning and she still wanted to die.
Even though Joanne didn't believe in angels, but Ria resembled one as the final interruption while she was on her back holding up the shield that had Athis' sword and upper body pressing against it. Both distractedly looked up at the dinner announcement She was a grown ass woman, but smiled so innocently in spite of the hopeless scene in front of her. She even offered assistance to Joanne while Athis rushed back inside having been broken enough today.
"Don't worry if you don't grow muscles overnight." Ria told her soothingly, dusting her off once she was unsteady on her feet. "You should be proud of yourself for having the determination to stay this long. The road to becoming a warrior is long and difficult, not even those guided by the Divines' prophecy have it easy."
She was just going out of her way to stop her from crying. Joanne wouldn't doubt she looked like she could burst into tears, but her ducts remained too dry and irritated. The shield was easily removed from her hand like it was made of foam. "Athis hates me." Joanne didn't know why that was the first thought to leave her mouth, but decided it was better than burdening Ria with her self doubt.
"You were just...poorly matched." Ria fumbled when trying to sound comforting. Regret came to her face, which was the last thing Joanne saw before turning and speed walking to the door.
"Anne!"
"I don't want to talk."
Not talking about her problems was how she ended up with so much regret of her own about her friends. Joanne sighed heavily, leaned on the door to the inside as she pulled it back enough to peek in.
The tables were full of Companions, most of which had their backs facing her as they rambled about the days events. She could only the see side views of Vilkas and Kodlak. The mood inside looked a bit rambunctious but very much...them. If that made any sense. A group of people familiar enough no one was going to get socially murdered for eating with the wrong fork. Or using utensils at all. She didn't want to have to walk past them, especially as snippets of conversation reached her ears courtesy of Farkas.
"So how did it go with Anne?" Farkas asked with his mouth full.
"Well, what a conversation starter." Torvar replied irritably, possibly not yet drunk despite clearly being seen waving his beverage around.
"You're the only one who cares." Vilkas grumbled.
There was a collection of muttered words around the table, even though the door was nearby Joanne didn't want to find out if they were agreements.
Kodlak took a delicate drink before setting his eyes right on Athis who was understandably indulging tonight. "I would like to know how she did. She might not be one of us, but like it or not you're all associated until she can take care of herself."
"Reassuring." Vilkas growled before Kodlak could say the last word. "You didn't give a damn when Priya, who actually had ability, needed our help. She actually joined, and I'm not supposed to be the one you can turn out to for help but it was all up to me when-"
"I would pay Priya to suck you dry if it would calm you down." Njada grumbled.
A barrage of teasing was unleashed on Vilkas next. Joanne closed the door at that point, shoved her back to it and sighed deeply. She knew she could just walk around the sides of the building but it seemed like bad manners to not give empty thanks for giving her a chance today.
Normally she wouldn't stick around to acquire any more chances. She looked up to see Ria putting the shield and various weapons away. She expected her to say something more but she just gave a polite smile.
Low self esteem was Joanne's worst foe and it won tonight. As the chilling wind nipped at her face and neck she made her walk of shame on one side of the building. Even with some of the tension certain Companions were radiating in there they still looked like a family and she couldn't imagine inserting herself into it sitting in their chairs again and eating their food.
A lot of people would want that, however. Food. Companionship. Both. Joanne would be a fucking liar if she told herself she didn't feel the same way, but decided to distract herself by taking a walk around Whiterun. There had to be a nightlife around here she could distract herself with whether at the Cloud District or at the main floor of the inn.
There's plenty of time for me to feel sorry for myself. Joanne thought, stuffing her hands under her armpits to keep warm as she wandered into town. Maybe I could take a page out of...Chris. She always knew how to deflect the real world with small pleasures. Tomorrow I can cry about a future of no progress.
"Will you come back tomorrow?" Ria asked behind her somewhere. Joanne didn't turn around, she just continued walking forward.
She was digging herself so deep there was nothing to grip to climb out. But she did nod yes before disappearing from Ria's sight.