Chapter 3
Inuel, having freshened up a bit in the bedroom pod, pushed aside her door hanging and strode down a short living wood bridge to her kitchen. There she found her brother, sitting in a chair and drinking directly from a bottle of greef, which he must have brought with him. He had changed into a sash and kilt, bizarrely in Argonian style.
Inuel chuckled, amused.
"What are you wearing? You look like you crawled out of a bog."
He looked down at his garb, then back at her, mock-offended.
"I'll have you know these are quite clean. I don't have much occasion to wear them. And, quite comfortable, even if you don't have scales. Bought them off an Argonian in Shadowfen. All the rage with the Nord tourists. I was just fitting in."
She had stopped listening, and was preparing a light supper of dried meat and bread. "Mmm-hmm. If you're hungry, help yourself. I'll be too busy to cook for you, most days."
She turned to give him a warning look, jabbing a finger at him.
"Do not get pissed and get sick all over my nice leather floors. Or I'll use your hide to replace them."
He scoffed at her back as she left. "I'm not that fat…"
Left to his own devices, Amanis decided to give himself a tour of her property. The open-air kitchen pod in which he currently sat was comfortably cool. As with all Bosmeri dwellings, it was woven from a single living tree, trained in interlocking patterns to form a large bulb of sorts. On several of these sectioned "panels," she had hung tapestries and banners from various cultures, only one of which he recognized. He frowned at it. It appeared to be the insignia of the Iron Wheel. Surely, she wasn't a member of such an organization. He, being a member of the Thieves' Guild, was a sworn enemy. He sniffed, deciding to push it from his mind. In lieu of wooden wall shelves, Inuel had somehow managed to grow large, Morrowind tree mushrooms, and just placed pots and vases on these. A little bit of home, of course. Above him, there hung a strange, angular brazier which lit the room. The hearth- nothing more than a large, raised stone bowl with ashes in it- dominated the other side of the kitchen. A variety of dried meats hung above this- venison, fish, and reptile. On some shelf racks in the corner, he saw an array of fruits and vegetables- known to be taboo to devout followers of Yffre. He clucked his tongue at them, snatching up an apple. The table was already set for two, he noticed. Interesting.
With his bottle and apple, he strode out into the garden. Following the path, he saw a small stone circle, a Khajiiti-styled meditation sand pit in the middle, surrounding a rough-cut stone basin filled with crystal water. He gazed into it for a moment, considering his reflection. He still wore the face paint of his natal tribe… just like Inuel. It was the last thing they had in common.
Continuing his walk, he encountered two trees with unsettlingly humanoid features. Quite pretty, though, with their red-orange and indigo flowers, respectively. He heard an evil chittering behind him, and spun just in time to see a purple nixad dive at his head. It swooped away when he ducked, tittering as if it had played the most fiendish of tricks. He swore at the fairy-bug, throwing his half-eaten apple at it. It dodged easily, but swiftly flew away.
Passing under the tree bridge to the bedroom pod, he came next upon his guar, cart, and pile of belongings. The faun was sharing a large stone bowl of water with the guar; at least they seemed to be getting on. Movement in a nearby tree caught his eye, and he turned to see a snowy gryphon chick with sapphire eyes perched in its branches. It chirped, looking at him sideways like a bird.
"Full menagerie you got, sissa."
Beyond the tree, he spied a work area. It appeared Inuel had both a carpentry and a textile hobby. Under two separate overhangs, he found logs of wood and bolts of cloth, along with half-finished projects on both workbenches. She never could settle her attention on any one thing for long. In fact, it appeared she hadn't touched these projects in some time.
Looking at these things made him inexplicably homesick… but not for a place. He looked up to the higher of the two connected pods, finding a convenient woven ramp from the ground to the tree bridge. He took this, and climbed his way to her bedroom door hanging.
Pushing it aside, he peered into the spherical room. She had made good use of what little space she had, but it was still quite cluttered with various Dwemer nonsense. All the windows save one had thick drapes drawn, and none of them matched. A living hammock hung from two branches jutting from the wall. Even her bedding was woven from living greenery. There was a bookcase and a hanging shelf, but half of her library floated in the air around a well-lit desk. The latter was terribly cluttered with papers, gears, tools, quills, an inkwell, a cup, and a tiny tree somehow thriving in a large bottle. The desk and chair themselves looked to be grown from living wood, but indeed were now lifeless. Chests and bags, bottles and various crystals were set here and there. The only wall hanging was a battered, ancient diagram of some Dwemer machine. Beautifully woven rugs covered sections of the leather floor, and no less than two Dwemer orreries took up floor space. But dominating the nearby wall was a strange, vertical metal belt device, with metal panels in constant motion rising and falling with a whirring, clicking sound. Curious.
His vision of the far wall was blocked by a vanity screen. He could see steam rising from behind it.
Dare he?
He did.
Amanis peeked around the screen, seeing Inuel relaxing in a large tub, sipping from a goblet and reading a beat-up old novel. The cover, he could see, read "The Rose and the Rapier." He grinned, then cleared his throat, causing her to jolt and spill her wine.
"Innie, where do you expect me to sleep?"
"Fuck the bleeding Tribunal sideways, Amanis! Don't you knock?!" She snatched a nearby cloth to cover herself, glaring at him, as he was still looking.
"Right, then, get it out of your system. You've seen me naked. Laugh now rather than draw it out for a week."
He was speechless for only a moment.
"Oh, as silly as you may look, you're not half as silly as that book. Is that a euphemism for somethin'? Roses and rapiers?"
She scrambled out of the tub, wrapping herself, storming over to him and hitting him with the book.
"Get out of my room!"
He giggled, fending off her blows. "Again, I ask, where am I meant to sleep?"
"Outside with your bloody guar, for all I care! Bugger off and get out!"
He allowed her to shove him out the door. He would have to wait until she wasn't quite so peeved.
He did not, in fact, have to sleep with the guar. Inuel laid out a bedroll for him on the padded floor of her bedroom, next to a fern which grew naturally from the wall. Crawling into her hammock she gave him a warning look.
"You are in here to sleep, Not to snoop. Not to bother me whilst I am sleeping or working."
"When did you become our mother?"
Her eyes narrowed.
"At least one of us grew up to be responsible."
She flopped down, tugging her bedclothes around her. She then added, "I'd be kinder to the person who opened their home to me in my time of need, were I you." She then waved a hand, extinguishing all of the various lights.
These words stung him a bit.
He made himself as comfortable as possible, on a bedroll that was at least a foot too short for him, with a blanket of matching size.
Perhaps tomorrow, he'd go hammock-shopping.
Amanis woke alone in the dim bedroom/study/bath. His sister was not in evidence. He rifled through his bag, dressed in a more respectable outfit, and left with his coin purse at his belt.
Inuel was at the kitchen table, some Dwarven mechanical mess in front of her. He thought at first that she was deep in thought. Then he saw her shoulders hitch. She was crying.
His heart broke to see it. He went to her, smoothing his hands over her shoulders in comfort. She jerked away from him.
"Oh, 'Mani, I was just working." She hastily wiped her face, smiling. "There's fish and some saltrice for breakfast. It's in the pot on the hearth."
This simple dish was one from early childhood. The fish was freshwater, but it didn't matter. She remembered it was his favorite. He filled a bowl and tried to find a clear space at the table. Inuel apologized and made room for him.
"So… making progress?" he asked.
She smiled at him, sadly- but striving to appear gladdened by his presence.
"Oh, yes. I'll have this piece restored within the week."
"So, you do restoration?"
"Mm-hm."
She picked up a piece of metal, just to set it back down, then pretended to study one of the many papers.
"You have many hobbies, then?"
She sighed with exasperation, forcing a smile and looking at him.
"Perhaps you'd like to visit the local village today? Or the town? If you need money-"
"I do not." He forced a smile in kind, finishing his breakfast in silence. She obviously wasn't ready, but he hated to see her cry like that.
Especially knowing he was the reason.
