Chapter 2: On The Road Again.
A remarkably buxom Argonian female struggled with the bushes as she tugged her robes free from the bush it had snagged on while a rather bored-looking Dremora watched the whole spectacle. Once she was free, the Argonian smoothed her robes and took another step, only for her robes to become snagged again. She let out a frustrated growl before yanking herself free, tearing her robes slightly. "I hate Skyrim." She groused, "A Clairvoyance spell would be much more useful if these blasted Nords built more roads!"
"It would also be useful if you had an actual sense of direction," The Dremora snarked, "Mistress."
"I do have a sense of direction!" The Argonian argued, "Just because my name is Lost-In-The-Forest does not mean that I am literally lost!"
"We passed that stump twice already." The Dremora deadpanned.
"Not another word... Sparky." Lost-In-The-Forest snapped, using the dreaded nickname.
"I am not 'Sparky'!" The Dremora snapped, "Foolish mortal, you know what my name is!"
"Fine, Sparkticus." Lost-In-The-Forest snapped, "Have it your way, but if you don't stop being so aggravating, then I swear by the Divines, I will retract our agreement!"
"You wouldn't." The Dremora narrowed his eyes.
"Then stop distracting me so I can find that blasted road. Once we've returned to Falkreath and resupplied, we can go back out into the wilds and you can kill anyone and anything that accosts us in whatever manner you see fit."
The Dremora's face split in a wicked, gleeful grin. The Argonian rolled her eyes and continued in her chosen direction. After a few more minutes of travel, she thought about where she wanted to go and released another spell, revealing another trail. "This way." Lost-In-The-Forest declaired, heading off to follow the trail.
The Dremora gave a mock salute before declaring sarcastically, "I bow before your superior navigation skills, oh short one!"
Lost-In-The-Forest frowned deeply. She was indeed shorter than average for a female Argonian. Not letting the Dremora see her reaction, the Argonian said, "If you keep mocking me, I'll make you look like a wood elf when I next disguise your ugly face."
"Not nearly as ugly as your face." Sparkticus said with a smirk.
"Oh, shut up."
Travel could be quite uneventful when Skyrim was taking a break from trying to kill you in numerous painful ways. Uneventful could lead to boredom. Boredom could lead to impromptu games of 'I spy'. When that grew boring as well, it led to other things. Terrible things, like Hildegard singing. Hildegard singing could lead to one being tempted to steal Shame's mace and bash one's own head in with it. Izeera was rather attached to her head. Finally, the Khajiit snapped, "Hildegard, if you do not stop singing, Izeera will push you from your horse, drag you into a river, and hold your head down until the bubbles stop!"
"Don't you dare threaten me, Izeera." The Nord said sharply, her blue eyes narrowing behind her blond forelocks.
"If you do not sing, then Izeera will not have to threaten you." The Khajiit replied calmly, as if were the most simple thing in the world.
"Singing is a very good way to stop boredom." Hildegard verbally defended herself. "Don't you agree, Shame?"
The Nord woman glanced back at the High Elf. "Shame?"
It was clear that the elf disliked being put on the spot like that. However, instead of the expected awkward slience, he did reply right away. "Well," Shame suggested, "It might be a good idea to give the singing a break."
"Yes," Izeera added, "Before our ears start to bleed from your braying."
"Braying? Are you saying that I sing like a braying ass?" Hildegard asked angrily.
"No, your braying is more like that of a dying horker." Izeera replied.
"Izeera! Hildegard! Please, ENOUGH!"
The two stopped their horses and looked back at Shame. Had he just raised his voice at them? Both of them were temporarily stunned into silence. "Please, stop fighting." Shame said, clearly far too sober to deal with this. Izeera looked at Hildegard. She did not apoligize, instead merely saying, "Your singing brings out the worst in Izeera."
Hildegard said nothing. The three quietly resumed their journey. After a few hours, Izeera spoke up. "Izeera spies with her little eye... something brown."
"It's a deer, isn't it?" Hildegard asked.
"Yes, it's a deer. Now Izeera spies- oh, shit! Sabre cat! Hold Izeera's horse!"
The Khajiit quickly dismounted as the sabre cat began to charge at them. Before the horses could charge or the sabre cat could reach them, Izeera flung a fireball at the giant feline. The creature hit the ground, its momentum carrying it to the Khajiit's feet. There was a brief silence before Izeera said, "Izeera thinks that now would be a good time to set up camp."
The next day, the adventurers packed up camp and resumed their travel. At their current pace, they did not reach Windhelm until nightfall. Just outside the city, Izeera, Hildegard, and Shame stabled their horses and made their way into Windhelm with Izeera in hurry at the lead. This puzzled Hildegard, as she could not think of a reason for Izeera to be in more of a hurry than the rest of them. So, she decided to ask Shame. "Shame, why is Izeera in such a hurry to get into Windhelm?"
Shame's face formed into an amused smile as he replied, "Because Izeera is sweet on one of the locals."
"You know not what you speak of!" Izeera snapped, "We are very good friends, not lovers!"
"I apologize for the misunderstanding, then." Shame said, his tone sincere as usual.
"Who is this lover that you speak of, Shame?" Hildegard asked.
"She is not Izeera's lover!" the Khajiit snapped again.
"So it's a she, then?" Hildegard said with a smirk, "So your depravity is not limited to seducing your companions."
"Izeera is not depraved." The Khajiit snarled, "It is you who is depraved. Greeting with hugs one moment and cruel words with the next. You will not mock Izeera!"
Before either of the two females could draw their weapons, Shame stepped in between them. "Hildegard, Izeera, I wouldn't assume to tell either of you what to do, but perhaps you should stop fighting before the guards decide to intervene?"
Izeera and Hildegard glanced at the guards, who were giving them dirty looks. They seemed to be especially glaresome towards Izeera and Shame. Clearing her throat, Izeera stood upright and adjusted her braids before walking towards the gates with Hildegard and Shame taking the rear. And so they entered the city of Windhelm. It was the same as always with backwards Nords saying cruel things to the local Dark Elves. Sometimes it was not just cruel things, but cruel actions as well. It made Izeera sick. Once they were out of sight of the guards, the Khajiit spat on the snow-covered ground in disgust. Turning to her fellow adventurers, she said, "If we are lucky, we will be able to stay the night with Izeera's friend. If not, we will go to the inn. Either way, Izeera does not want to search for work until the morning. Izeera does not want to seek work here, but there is little choice."
"You say that about every Nord city you enter." Hildegard pointed out.
"Izeera means what she says about Windhelm." Izeera replied, clearly irritable. "Izeera means every word."
After much searching, the group finally located the friend that Izeera had been talking about. It was a Dunmer woman in the Grey Quarter. She was quite beautiful, with smooth grey skin and long ebony hair. She would be even more attractive if she didn't look so sad. "Lyall!" Izeera greeted, "Hello to you! Are you well?"
"As well as can be, considering the state of the city." Lyall replied with a sad smile.
"Izeera wishes there was something she could do about it." The Khajiit said with a frown.
"I know." said Lyall. "Your heart is always in the right place, Izeera."
"You speak highly of Izeera." Hildegard commented.
"She deserves every word." Lyall replied. "A brave adventurer with a heart of gold. I only wish I had such courage. Still, I will help in any way I can."
"About that..." Izeera said, rubbing the back of her head.
"You need a place to stay for the night, don't you?" Lyall asked.
"Izeera thanks you for your hospitality." said the Khajiit.
Quickly, the group headed into Lyall's house. Once they were in there, the Dunmer woman set about to creating a meal. To Izeera's dismay, it was soup with cabbage in it. Izeera despised cabbage. Still, food was food, especially when it was made by Lyall.
"So, Izeera," Lyall inquired as she carried the bowls of soup over to the table, "Who are your friends?"
"The Altmer priest is Shame." Izeera replied, "The Nord with the big hammer is Hildegard Ironhead."
"Oh." Lyall said. "I assume you're still doing the sell-sword thing? It's good that you're not doing it alone. It's so dangerous. I worry about you."
"Anyone who gets past Izeera's magic is fodder for her axe." the Khajiit said with a confident smile.
"You are so full of yourself, cat." Hildegard muttered.
"Don't call her that." Lyall said with a frown. "Izeera is a Khajiit, not a common housecat."
The Dunmer got a dreamy look in her eyes as she continued, "I've seen her strength. She saved me from a sabre cat. She was so brave."
Hildegard suddenly coughed, hiding the word "Lovers!" in her cough. Lyall didn't seem to notice, but Izeera shot her a glare. Shame merely sighed and said, "Yes, Izeera certainly isn't lacking in courage.
"Yes, Izeera is brave." the Khajiit said. "Izeera is also hungry. Time to eat."
With that, Izeera dipped her spoon into the cabbage soup. She lifted it to her face and the smell hit her nose. She did her best not to gag. She slipped the spoon into her mouth and tried even harder not to vomit. Cabbage was so disgusting! Still, like the tough mercenary that she was, she managed to choke it down. She hated cabbage, but she also hated hurting Lyall's feelings. Lyall was so good to her, always helping Izeera whenever she came to Windhelm. She cared for the Dunmer just slightly more than she hated cabbage. Just slightly. Izeera really, really hated cabbage. Hildegard, however, seemed to delight in eating just about anything. Nords did not seem to be particularly picky eaters. Izeera was almost envious. The de facto leader of the group may have had an iron stomach, but she did not have a blind tongue. One of these days, she would have to gift Lyall with some nice meat and vegetables the next time she visited Windhelm.
Once the group was done eating, it was time to discuss sleeping accomodations. Izeera knew that Lyall's house had two beds. One of them belonged to her brother, who had unfortunately died from illness while he was away. Two beds, four people. Izeera watched Lyall, awaiting the Dunmer's decision. "Hildegard, Shame, you can share my brother's bed."
"Are you sure that this is wise?" Hildegard asked, a note of amusement coloring her voice.
"I see no problem in it. A Nord and an Altmer? Surely nothing would happen." Lyall replied, blissfully ignorant of what had happened in the past. "Anyway, Izeera can sleep in my bed."
The Khajiit valliantly fought to repress the shit-eating grin that was threatening to erupt on her face. Just barely, she managed to tone it down to a smile. "Izeera thanks you for your hospitality" the spellsword- spellaxe?- said.
So Hildegard and Shame shared Lyall's brother's bed. As predicted by Lyall, absolutely nothing happened. It was still slightly awkward, though, considering what had happened recently. Izeera, free of her armor, lay next to Lyall, spooning her. By the time the Dunmer had begun to snore softly, the Khajiit was nearing sleep herself. Half-asleep and not truly aware of whether she was dreaming or not, Izeera buried her nose in Lyall's dark locks and nuzzled the back of her head. As she finally drifted off into sleep, Izeera noted that her friend smelled faintly of soap and had the scent of something that was uniquely Lyall. The Khajiit then slipped into a peaceful, dreamless sleep.