. . . . .

End of the Line

Chapter Six

. . . . .

Even after the downpour ended it had been somewhat cloudy for the rest of the day. There wasn't much moon or starlight peeking from behind the hazy clouds now, not that Joanne needed the natural way to see the various paths of Whiterun. In the end, it was a very small city even if it had everything a proper video game area needed to function. Too bad it wasn't a place like Markarth or Riften where at least according to lore things actually happened there not related to the dragons or civil war story bits.

Joanne knew she looked horrible, but there weren't a lot of people out right now. She walked past the shops, seeing the owners give each other polite nods with sparks of rivalry in their eyes as they closed up for the evening. Priests rushed by carrying medical supplies they probably traveled a great distance just to pick. Guards on day patrol were exchanging places for the night. Overall, this wasn't the excitement Joanne needed.

What qualified as nightlife however? Joanne had her own personal answer: the misfits and outright sinners were supposed to come out under the mysterious shroud of night. She wanted something to take her mind off the horrible day, but all that came to mind was trashing other people's property, drinking and sex. She was too drained, maybe not even in the best state mentally to question how she could think like that.

She never had been one to indulge because video games really were her drugs. Without much experience with alcohol she couldn't pass judgment on that. As for sex that was done either pure or lustful and she couldn't be a devoted or desirable partner either way. So what was left to do?

While Joanne was feeling sorry for herself she heard the distinct voice of a female dark elf. "What brings a small creature like you out so late?" Maybe Joanne's mental state was collapsing but she thought she sounded mature and alluring. What she wished her voice could be.

Joanne looked up to find the owner of the voice, unsure which character if even named was speaking. When she lifted her head, she was surprised to find Jenassa casually perched on Drunken Huntsman's roof resting her arm over her bent leg. She looked every bit like a mysterious mercenary so...living up to her reputationt. At least someone was succeeding in life.

"You wouldn't care." Joanne spat, dropping her head and shoving her back to the store's wall.

There was a low rumble Joanne thought was a hum. Then a leg was suddenly dangling off the roof, leather boot annoyingly close to her head. "Try me. I do my best to keep up with new travelers, stay in business that way. My eyes and ears must be keen at all times, and they've noticed you day one." There wasn't emotion in Jenassa's tone, but it wasn't cold either. She continued to dangle her leg, coming close to hitting Joanne's head and she tried not to shoot a glare upward.

"Don't pretend to be interested in me. You're as bad as those Companions!"

"Companions?"

"But there's nothing remotely interesting about me! I don't know what I'm doing in this world! Why am I still alive if there's no purpose or direction!"

"Hold on. You lost me at the Companions-"

Joanne's fist flew out to the side and slammed into the wall. Pain and a fiery burn shot through her knuckles instantly, making her groan and choke back curses. There were no tears, but her eyes felt scratchy regardless.

She deserved Jenassa's mocking chuckles above her. Well her chuckling was more like the purr of a smooth car engine than human. Fitting enough as she seemed like a mechanical person without much purpose beyond her mercenary work.

"What can I do to feel better!" Joanne screamed although more like whispering as loud as possible with hisses of agony.

"You could shut up." Jenassa offered.

"How original! As if I haven't heard that advice from my own-"

"Not finished. Hear me out, pathetic creature."

Joanne was fuming, but she kept her mouth shut and just massaged her ruined knuckles. She didn't think they were damaged permanently, but she wasn't sane at the moment. She didn't even want to hear out Jenassa, especially if she was going to stick to the creature word. But she deserved it. She deserved all the shit treatment this world could offer so she didn't do much to stop it.

Jenassa took a moment to collect her thoughts, swung her other leg over the side and slid off the roof. She landed gracefully in a crouched position, sprang up like she was showing off. When they were standing in front of each other, or more like Jenassa was approximately five five and Joanne had to look up.

"Though I don't keep company around unless they're paying, I do read people. I have to closely examine the most minor of details and interpret every inflection. I wasn't born with these skills, but as an elf I must do whatever it takes to protect myself in Skyrim. Have I left enough crumbs for you to follow? Any thoughts?"

"Why do people keep trying to encourage me?" Joanne asked more to herself than Jenassa.

The somewhat intimidating mercenary's face remained stoic, she cast a shadow over her but Joanne wasn't totally uncomfortable by this. In such proximity she could see her black hair gently sway in the breeze to contrast her sharp diamond face. Are you really getting distracted right now? You're pathetic as she said, but at least nod and pretend you hear-

Jenassa's head rose in a split second before it slapped her cheek with the scorch of a hot iron. No Joanne never ironed a piece of clothing in her life or straightened her hair but it fucking ached enough she had to compare it to something. She didn't get knocked to the ground but gawked wide eyed and slack jawed.

Jenassa explained her reasons with zero emotion. "The best way to drive everyone way are words like that. How can anyone stand to be around you if all you do is groan and sob and complain? Words have more power than you clearly realize, enough so you can force them to believe it and wonder why they even stay around.

"Do you want to drive away people who attempt to get close? I ask not because I care for that life, but if you've been around the Companions you must have expected to find fellowship in Skyrim; you're obviously not a native so of course you're trying to build bonds.

"But the Companions have their traditions, and there's more than a few who don't agree. I don't need to be close enough I'd celebrate anyone's birth to know they're difficult company. So I warn you not to get involved...brute strength and tradition are not the only methods of surviving this land."

"How do you monologue without running out of breath?" Asked a genuinely impressed Joanne. Not that the bar had been high.

Jenassa's lip barely turned up in a smirk. "I have my skills."

Joanne was still rubbing her stinging cheek and aching teeth that had crashed together during impact. She still felt like someone was taking pity on her, but she did like what point she thought she was picking up. She didn't know if she was right, but she wanted to believe Jenassa was telling her to suck it up.

No, telling a depression sufferer to suck it up was in no way appropriate. If she was being completely honest with herself she would be disgusted and never talk to her again.

But tonight Joanne's brain was broken. Tonight she was going to try to slip out of character or shed this horrible skin to be dramatic about it. Truly she had nothing to lose. And if it had to be anyone the one thing she couldn't complain about was having her only option of social interaction be a surprisingly pretty woman in the right light.

"Now instead of ranting about what's wrong with the world, tell me something you desire. Tell me, and I'll help you get it because..." Jenassa trailed off, folding her arms as she rocked on her heels.

Joanne had brief flashes of Chris in her mind – moments where she indulged in whatever made her happy. A spending spree at her favorite clothing store? Her parents never liked the bills and were very strict about her taking up jobs to pay it off herself but she was still glowing when she wore those outfits to the very same jobs. Obviously she also didn't mind eating what she enjoyed and somehow overcame nasty comments about her size. But any time she felt bad she swiftly turned to episodes of her favorite shows and binged. She found ways to cheer herself up and stay bubbly four out of five times. Joanne wondered if she could be like that but as she thought it Jenassa licked her lips in what must have been an idle and very unimportant way.

"Because it'll be fun for you?" Joanne asked, swallowing hard.

"You'd be shocked how uneventful Whiterun can be. It's asking to be taken advantage of especially with such an indecisive Jarl. I need to find entertainment where I can and I need your help tonight."

Joanne felt her stomach rumble, somehow not growling like a beast and that may have encouraged her response. "I'd like to have a big meal, but I don't have enough money-" Her words fizzled out as she was dragged away.

"Tell me which house."

"Excuse me?"

. . . . .

Joanne remembered House of Clan BattleBorn and Dragonsreach had very large kitchens to raid. The number of times she spent those long winded conversations the Jarl had with his buddies stuffing her character's inventory with food and ingredients was ridiculous. As for the BattleBorn house she would take advantage of the GrayMane son finding quest to get food. But since you're playing an indestructible hero, you have a very real chance of getting caught and thrown in a cell for the rest of your life. You think Jenassa will bail you out? Fuck off. If you were smart, you wouldn't be here right now. But she hadn't eaten in Divines know how long, and she could not ignore her pained stomach.

When Joanne suggested the Dragonsreach kitchen, Jenassa stared a long time before the most sinister of smirks appeared on her lips and was washed away by the shadows. That didn't change the fact Joanne knew it had been there and maybe this mercenary had a repressed devil may care side. There really wasn't much to know about her or the other hired followers in game. But while the idea of invading the Jarl's home sounded thrilling Joanne didn't believe Irileth to be the type to take it easy on one of her own kind. Plus Joanne couldn't think of a way to kill herself in jail should it come to that.

House of Clan Battleborn here we come.

"Take this pick." Jenassa instructed, placing the tool in her hand. "You want to slip that inside the lock with the gentlest touch, any pressure and it will either break or damage the lock permanently."

"Why am I doing this?" Joanne whined, already sweating at the thin tool in her uncoordinated hand.

"It would be amusing to watch the clan struggle to escape their own home." Jenassa said breezily. "When the guards catch up I will have to throw you into their path of course. Don't take it personally."

Joanne didn't even know why she felt betrayed. She heard the mocking, brief cough like snicker behind her and just glared at the lock as she carefully stuck the pick in.

"Gentle." Joanne told herself.

"Like poisoned spikes are set to impale your precious organs if you fail."

Joanne was well aware of her furrowed brows deepening, her hand losing focus and stress welling inside her chest. But she kept the pick where it was, even attempting to slide it farther while holding her breath. At the same time Jenassa was breathing right next to her ear and it was throwing off her concentration. The sheer awareness Jenassa conveyed through it was what bothered Joanne most of all. She never looked at this character in game and thought she would enjoy stuff like this. That and what she saw of the Companions was making her question if she remembered Skyrim wrong due to being distracted by Oblivion or if now that she was involved it wasn't functioning as a game but more like real life. And if this was real life should she value being alive more? Was it worth risking jail time by breaking into houses? And as she was about to focus herself into ignoring the delicate act of lockpicking-

"Damn it, but you're slow." Jenassa groaned before shoving her shoulder against hers with enough force to push her away. She easily caught the pick before it fell out of the hole.

Joanne was no stranger to being helpless and pummeled on the ground anymore. She wasn't even pissed. She just rubbed at future bruises on her arm, adjusted her glasses and watched Jenassa's alluring side profile as she worked her magic. You're not going to expand on that thought process, stop.

The lock made a satisfying click as it was defeated by the pick. Jenassa pushed open the door like it was nothing, creeping inside still in a crouch. Anything that Joanne thought about trying to get on the mercenary's good side seemed to shatter as she gave her an icy glare presumably for not learning how to lockpick from one attempt. You know...like a video game character. And Skyrim's leveling system being far too easy to get ahead in especially compared to needlessly confusing Oblivion.

"You'll get more chances if you stay with me." Jenassa told her with a contradicting head shake and slipping the pick into her hands. There wasn't time to dwell when they crept into the BattleBorn residence.

Unlike breaking into a house at night in game there wasn't a lit candle at all. It wasn't pitch black but Joanne had a spike of wariness as she thought of accidentally dropping a platter and triggering everyone to leap out of bed and scream for the guards. Trash those thoughts, will you? Look, think of this like high school where you sacrifice integrity to be on top socially. Maybe you don't want some form of respect from the Companions but people like Jenessa are valuable long term. So stop being a wet blanket. Joanne didn't know why her mind bothered to try firing her up, but she didn't exactly snuff them out as she broke away from Janessa and hovered around the assortment in the middle of the room.

She didn't need light to behold the meats, cheeses, stews, and sweetrolls. Her stomach growled and demanded a real meal with all the courses. It was a hell of a lot more appealing than a cup of noodles and a turkey sandwich, but could she...? Did her personal morals have any fight when confronted with her human desire to fill her gut...?

What morals?

Jenassa moved to either end of the room and checked for any sounds of people being awake, eventually looking to her and lowering her finger. They were in the clear? Well Joanne already sank teeth into what was either horse or deer by the time she received the signal. Yes it was definitely a form of heaven for her.

Jenassa swiftly moved to the table as well, combing through a large bowl of apples and plate of grilled leeks. Unlike Joanne's ravenous plunge into the meats or anything with protein Jenassa seemed to be fixated on the plants. For a second Joanne wondered if that was a lifestyle choice or she just wasn't that hungry. Either way both lost souls ate well for several minutes, culminating in meeting in the middle at a large pot of vegetable soup. Their shoulders hit. They looked at one another as if sharing wasn't an option this time. Joanne saw a gleam in Jenassa's eyes, distracted enough the pot was yanked from her grasp victoriously.

Jenassa didn't immediately dig into her soup, still watching Joanne expectantly. She didn't say anything but Joanne could deduce from the most basic sign she wanted her to take it back. Joanne turned away, stuffing another slice of cheese in her mouth.

A hand clasped her shoulder, while Jenassa snorted in disappointment. "Would you really lie down like a mat if you were camping and someone tried to steal your food?"

Joanne stared ahead, trying to enjoy the flavor. Logically the cheese was a little too firm left out like this, but it was the freshest she'd ever-

The cheese went flying out of her mouth as she grunted in response to being forcefully turned around. She wanted to evaporate under Jenassa's deep frown. She thought if she looked at the premature wrinkles setting in from that she might not feel so judged...but no.

Jenassa sighed exasperatedly, setting up for a speech. "Assert yourself. What am I to you when I take away the food you clearly haven't much of in a while? I'm a threat to you. Shove me to the ground, punch teeth out, and send me into unconsciousness.

"Picture it as though we're not in a warm, comfortable house. We're outside, the grass is dying from the season's merciless frost and we're both starving. But the difference is: you're a traveler without a dark past just trying to survive the night, while I take no issue with killing you if it means making a blanket from your skin and getting a meal from your food supply."

Joanne blinked stupidly, her brain flickering out just trying to imagine the harsher side of Skyrim. If she were doing this right- If she wasn't so cowardly as to hide in a populated, mostly safe zone. But she knew she wouldn't be able to stay in Whiterun forever; her guilt would drive her crazy. She truly was a pathetic creature as Jenassa said, but she had to fake having the ability to survive until she duped herself into believing it.

"You're a...thief." Joanne murmured, shutting her eyes and mentally setting up the scene. "You have no morals, certainly no shame in cutting the throat of a tiny helpless Breton while she sleeps."

"And what will you do about me?" Jenassa asked in the darkness, tapping a wooden spoon to her throat as if threateningly.

"I wake up, but due to my complicated past I've never been able to practice magic. With no knowledge of spells and my weapon being so far away from my current position..."

The wooden spoon pressed into her throat, and Joanne couldn't lie it was painful. She tried not to focus on that, instead the mental image of Jenassa in fur armor sneaking up to her curled up desperate for warmth on a tattered cloth. The fake Jenassa's dagger glinted in the moonlight, positioned to strike this laughably inept little Breton's throat.

Joanne grabbed the hand clenched around the spoon, in time for a nearby door to slam open.

"You again!"

She whipped her head to her left, uncontrollably trembling as she saw the groggy yet enraged face of Idolaf BattleBorn standing in the bedroom doorway wielding two large books. She probably would have stayed right there and been given a nasty paper cut if Jenassa hadn't shoved her down and leaped to her feet.

"Thought I didn't know it was you sneaking in every night! Caught you red handed now!"

Joanne felt like she was ignored as voices in other rooms spoke over each other and Idolaf shouted obscenities at a fleeing Jenassa. She pathetically floundered for a moment or so before finding her footing, stunned and offended she'd been left behind. The front door clicked as Jenassa made her way out, and Joanne didn't care if any of the approaching family members or Idolaf got a look at her face to make a report to the guards as she ran for her life out the same door.

. . . . .

Her feet were scorched even against the bone chilling cool of the night, but that was nothing to Joanne's boiling blood even though she was bolting in a zig zag down Whiterun as if arrows were all lining up to take her useless body and at least give it some worth as a pincushion. The rain returned just as annoyingly heavy and she only thought for a moment if the reason she hadn't slipped too much was because of her overpowering determination to get the fuck out. Merely a theory.

The ladies of the clan remained in the house's doorway giving Idolaf some choice words and questioning his sanity as he hastily instructed them not to follow and to keep an eye on the house while he gave chase. Joanne did feel bile moving up her throat, even thought for a moment her heart was trying to come out with it. Maybe she should have been relieved when the hysterical Nord pushed right past her and continued running as if he had a sense for finding people.

That didn't stop Joanne from running until she had squeezed through a large enough crack in the doors and was officially out. She barreled down the hill, breathing heavy and ragged and losing a lot of momentum by the time she was at the bottom. Suddenly all the food she'd eaten didn't seem worth it, and she collapsed against the stone wall clasping one hand to her mouth and massaging her stomach in an effort not to lose it all. Not the meal she didn't deserve but... But it was so damn good! You enjoy it! You didn't enjoy that fancy restaurant Chris and Sam put their precious earnings into, ungrateful, so you better enjoy this food that probably wasn't cooked with proper heating and could give you parasites to eat you from the inside!

Joanne stopped just to swallow the bile and shove her palm against the stone wall. She wasn't going to waste what she'd been craving. Even if the food being left out was possibly bait to lure whoever had been breaking into Whiterun homes in the middle of the night. She was fully soaked, hair and clothes like a hundred pounds atop skin and bones. She ran again, this time a little more aware of where she was going as she saw the Honningbrew Meadery in the distance. The way she saw it she could either take shelter there or bang on the Pelagia Farm door at a horrible hour. At least with the meadery she remembered there were plenty of places to hide. If she didn't accidentally fall through the floor and get killed by the crazy mage she wondered where Jenassa ended up but pushed that thought down before it could develop too much. Frankly they weren't friends. The fact Jenassa completely abandoned her wasn't even out of character as far as Joanne was concerned...she would do the same if she could. Even though you'd hit that if you weren't a coward. She fingered the tools Jenassa gave her before moving on.

The fact there wasn't visual indication of the Black Briar name around made Joanne a little less intimidated to begin lockpicking attempt two. Sabjorn wasn't really much of a character until the Thieves Guild questline, so maybe he would sleep through her invasion. She had to at least force positive and stupidly nice thoughts to guide her trembling hand. The little noises of the pick had the force of powerful cymbal crashes in her ears. She had no one to pray to for success. She only had the game and Jenassa as reference.

Chris and Sam shared thoughtful expressions as they gazed at their results. Joanne could only guess what her face must have looked like though it couldn't have been positive. It only took two paragraphs before the excitement she managed to build came crashing down.

"So..." Sam started, scratching their forehead and shifting weight on each foot. "Did you guys catch that documentary on the witch trials last night?"

It was Joanne's turn to share a reaction with Chris, this one being pain. Emotional pain.

Sam dropped their paper to the floor, immediately coming between to wrap an arm around their shoulders. "I'm just trying to lighten the mood, guys. Didn't we all decide the results were going to be bs? Am I really going to let a piece of paper tell me I might not have qualifications to be a schoolteacher before I even go to college?"

Chris mournfully rested her head on Sam's shoulder, prompting them to untie her already very loose ponytail and stroke her hair. It had been dyed soft pink for a series of pictures she was making based on a character she made up, although she admitted the minute it washed out she would only do easier streaks in the light brown.

"Chris, you're going to be a fashion designer someday." Sam TOLD her. Coming out of their mouth it was a FACT.

Joanne miserably looked up at them next, expecting the worst. If Chris' ray of certainty had been attacked, the matter truly was grave. These were just school tests, but they had certainly been hyped enough as if they knew their future already. Future college major be damned.

"You're going to be a video game developer, no question." Sam again STATED with passion.

But it wasn't enough to convince Joanne she could do this. She knew creating video games wasn't easy regardless if on a large team or alone. Even then there wasn't a high chance one's first work would catch much attention and instead float in the void. But she needed to stop thinking only herself...fashion designers and teachers weren't simple roles to have either. They all aimed high, but blind optimism just can't win. Sam proved they knew how to study, but if all the dedication they put into learning wasn't enough...well fuck. The world was just unnecessarily cruel.

The pick was quivering. Joanne's panic flew high, sweat collected on her hand only to be washed by the rain. The rain itself wasn't making it easy to keep a grip on the pick and oh no the sounds were going to wake up the owner any minute. She needed to abort, so why were her fucking stubborn legs not yet moving?

She felt it. Movement in the door. Joanne's heart accelerated, her back tensed, her hands were beyond slippery and foul. Never mind the gross parts! This is your chance! She inhaled so much she could die if she didn't let her breath out but turned the pick and watched the lock move. So the door could strike her face.

"What...the hell?" A confused man's voice filled her ears then turned to ringing.

Joanne fell flat on her back, arms landing last with the tools and most likely the lock broken. She was used to a sore face by this point but not the ringing ears and stiff neck from landing on pebbles. That confused voice quickly turned to jittery alarm as she felt herself being awkwardly pushed by a shoe.

"Hey! Hey get up!" The man, slowly sounding more like Sabjorn pleaded. "Don't you die in front of my business!"

Joanne carried out the order, nose and teeth temporarily numb. That wasn't even going into her glasses cracked to the point she saw three mini fractured Sabjorns staring in horror. She heaved a sigh, removing and throwing them away finally.

"Oh! W-Well it's good to see you're alive, I suppose." Sabjorn muttered awkwardly, pulling his foot back and offering his hand. When the two just stared at his hand, no one knowing what to do, he ripped it away. "If you don't tell me what you were doing at my door and it's too dumb of a lie, I'm calling the guards. Choose your next words carefully." He feigned an intimidating pose, obviously not believing in his own ability. The only success was Joanne feeling more uncomfortable.

While she wasn't completely blind she did have astigmatism, but she wished the pouty face of this guy was blurry. She stood up, soaked and covered in mud and grass trying to feign composure too. "I did try to break in-"

"Oh, I guessed as much. Gua-"

"No!"

Joanne flung to the old man with the strength of soggy paper. She gripped his shoulders, leaning too close for comfort for either of them. She could guess it was either terror or sorrow in her eyes when she bore right into his.

Joanne's next words came out in embarrassing blubbering. "If you have any sympathy at all, don't call the guards! I've had a bad night and even worse couple of days! I don't want to be here; I'm not meant to be here! I'm not strong and I never will be! I should have died along ago, but my life's a joke so of course I need to be tormented more! But that's not important, right! Sorry! Just let me into your meadery to dry off at least! I'll be gone before you know it and we'll never meet again!"

She realized he had been silent and still for a while. Joanne composed herself enough to leap back, holding her arms as close and tight as a straitjacket would. Of all reactions she never would have expected to see contemplation on the meadery owner's face.

"You've certainly got a mouth. I wonder if that voice of yours...well...only if you could recite words I give you..." Sabjorn clapped his hands suddenly, making Joanne jump. "Tell you what, I was about to try to see if I could drag the Jarl out of bed for a little chat. But I might be able to save time and my shoes by skipping to the good part. Er that is...if you don't mind spending a moment of your evening with an unfamiliar man, miss...?"

"Anne." Joanne said, feeling more and more like a robot each time. "I'm new to Whiterun if that wasn't clear already, but...I have nowhere else to be. Thank you for inviting me in."

"Yes, yes let's not make a sentimental moment of it. But call me Sabjorn; my name must be all over Skyrim by now."

Joanne rolled her eyes when he turned around and walked back inside. When he spun and made a quick gesture for her to enter, she felt like this could only lead to a dagger in the back but anything was better than standing out in the rain brainless.

"Don't mind the dust, miss Anne. It's so hard to find good help these days..."