Vanya chewed on some ash yam, fully engrossed in the unbelievable tale that Teldryn was relaying to the captain. Two empty plates sat on Modyn's desk as the men had finished their meals in record time, getting on with their discussion while hers had cooled considerably as she picked through it. She was too busy trying not to choke on her gasps as Teldryn described stalking and killing sentries, scaling cliffs, and now- her food marinated on her tongue as he told of the harrowing escape from murderous mercenaries. The brief glances from them that she received for her involuntary interjections made her feel as if she were some kind of fainting damsel.
Well, maybe she was. And what of it? Teldryn's rough appearance and the bandaging on his wrist drove home just how real all of it had been. It was a shame about the fate of the scamp- though she found that now her opinion had shifted slightly on his ability to summon it. Besides, it wasn't really dead. Right?
She started chewing again. Did that actually make a difference? Now that was a strange line of thinking. She might have to actually give him a chance to explain why summoning was not as morally bankrupt as she had made it out to be. Or maybe there would just be things that she would never quite wrap her head around. She had wondered previously just who he really was out there in the world and by the sounds of it- he was a Navy SEAL on steroids.
The captain's sharp laugh brought her back to the conversation and she swallowed, finally. "I had a feeling that was what all that smoke was about," he said. "So what did you burn?"
Teldryn cleared his throat. "Everything."
The captain's mirth deflated from his frame, the last of it coming out with a muttered 'shit'.
"In my defense," Teldryn continued with a tinge of annoyance. "I was rather overwhelmingly distracted trying to keep from losing my head to a Nordic axe. The man from before- with the jokes? Suppose he decided he had something to prove. And he came pretty close." Vanya's stomach did a flip at the implication and she willed the ash yam to not make a reappearance. He spoke so casually, as if he were just describing a tense day the office. "Fortunately for me, Foyagah deigned to lend me a hand." He raised his injured wrist with a wry grin, which prompted an amused huff from the captain.
She blinked in confusion. She had obviously missed something. Before she could ask, Teldryn caught her expression and added helpfully, "Foyagah is my fire atronach."
"Ahhh..." She nodded vaguely. "Something else that you summon?"
"Yes, far more powerful than a scamp."
"How'd that go anyhow?" The captain cut in. "Did he summon the scamp for you? I never got an update on that."
"Oh...uh...he did." She hadn't realized Modyn had been in on that plan, as well. She peered at Teldryn curiously and he met her eyes briefly, then shifted in his chair while rubbing a hand over his chin. "I was surprised to say the least." She shrugged. "It didn't really go much further than that."
Modyn gazed between them for a moment, then dismissed the topic with a 'hmph', turning his attention back to Teldryn. "What else?"
Teldryn lowered his hand and laced his fingers in his lap. "The remaining mercenaries want passage to Windhelm, as do the workers I'm sure."
"The port is going to be busy as it is," the captain grumbled. "You were supposed to make things easier for me."
"You know how I hate to break tradition."
"Although..." He leaned back in his chair as he crossed his arms, contemplating. "If I could get all the argonians to go to Northshore to investigate whatever is left underwater, that could solve one of my concerns. I'd bet they wouldn't return until the Council members are back on the boat to Morrowind."
Teldryn nodded thoughtfully. "Not a bad idea."
Now it was Vanya's turn to interrupt. "Why would the Council have a problem with argonians?"
Modyn eyed her inquisitively. "Some of them might reminisce a little too fondly about the Third Era, if you get my meaning. I'd like remove as many potential sources of conflict as possible."
"Does it have something to do with the attack on Raven Rock?" She directed the question at Teldryn since, no, she did not get Modyn's meaning.
Teldryn shook his head. "That wasn't Third Era. And those were raiders, just doing what raiders do."
"Although I'm certain they had grand ideas about laying a dunmer settlement low," Modyn snarked. "Thought we were easy pickings, I suppose." His expression darkened. "And they paid dearly for that assumption."
Vanya felt suddenly as if she were looking in on a private conversation. Something old and tired passed between the two men, wordless flashes of anger and sorrow in equal measure. She pushed her half-eaten meal away, her appetite lost.
"It's getting late," Modyn clipped out, swiping a hand over weary eyes. "That's enough for now. I need to think over all of this." The captain leaned forward as Teldryn got to his feet. "Weather permitting, we're expecting the boat to arrive tomorrow or the next day so get some rest and clean yourself up." A curt nod was all the acknowledgment he gave as he put out his hand for her. "I would hate for your mother to think I'm not looking after you."
Vanya took his hand and he pulled her up as he answered, "Perish the thought."
Perhaps it was simply age that made him feel as if he were constantly pushing the limits of tired as of late. Teldryn picked out the musty scent unique to the ash-wastes as he escorted Vanya from Morvayn Manor. It was fainter on Solstheim, Raven Rock especially, tugged around between the tepid ocean breeze and pristine mountain air, but it was still there. Close enough for comfort at least. Out of nowhere, he wondered if his friend Ahashabin had ever gotten those mushrooms to grow taller than shoulder height. Or did they still wither as the roots dried out trying to dig through the heavy ash? Gods, he hadn't thought of that in years.
"Ehm, Teldryn..." Vanya wedged a hand between them. "Not so tight?"
He relaxed his hold on her- a little. She could walk decently on the injured leg but her foot would simply not obey at times, rolling one way or the other. The way her face pinched each time had prompted him to nearly carry her along. "You looked to be in pain," he said, just in time for her to wince with her next step.
"Well, it doesn't feel great. But it's not as painful as before- more frustrating than anything. The wrapping helps to keep my ankle a little steadier."
The wrapping. The one he'd removed in her bedroom. "We should retrieve it, then."
"Mmm..." She shook her head. "Sadesi has probably put Llero to bed by now."
"You're not sleeping there?" He had assumed by her attire that she had been using her own bed. That and when he'd opened the door to his room it had given him the distinct impression of disuse. "You have been staying at Milore's then, I take it?"
At his question, she pushed lightly against him, stepping away toward the well. He kept the distance short- in case she should stumble- until they came to a stop as she leaned against one of the supports. Unless something incredibly interesting had taken up residence in the well, he suspected she was avoiding answering. Or she had something else to say. He drew in closer and brushed her hair aside as he slid his hand along the back of her neck, watching her eyelids flutter shut as he caressed lightly. Whatever it was that she wanted to do for the night, he was certainly not going to offer anything that did not keep her with him.
His touch was still the same, a sanctuary of heat in which she could find solace, fleeting though it was. Only now she feared she would poison them. Bleeding out, she would sully that precious place they had created together if she let him see what could no longer be contained.
How fragile she really was, aimless, flailing in the dark. Deceitful.
Sam's name practically hung in neon above her spot on the chaise after how much she knew she spoke aloud during the nightly visitations that hardly counted for sleep. Beyond that, it was as if each ache and twinge as she moved was a key to spring open the vault of her buried history. Her body and mind were in open rebellion for the mistakes she had made.
"Yeah..." she began, just to fill the yawning silence. "I mean, just easier y'know?"
"Is that why you wear this?" he said as he reached up to toy with the ties on the collar of her nightgown. "Because it's easier?"
"Maybe." She smacked his hand away and turned toward him and that irresistible smirk. "It's the same as any old dress as far as I'm concerned." Especially after scraping the bottom of the barrel of humiliation the other day, she figured she may as well wallow in comfort. And wallow she had. "Come to think of it, I need to wash." She smoothed the front of her gown. "I'm surprised you're able to stand being so close to me, honestly."
He enclosed her between his arms as he leaned on the well, his voice dropping to a purr. "I'm not exactly at my freshest either, if you hadn't noticed. Or was that really what made you cry earlier?"
Her laugh surprised her and the grin that spread on his lips nearly caused her to lose whatever breath she had left. She tugged gently at the scruff on his chin. "You do really need to shave, I can hardly see you in there."
He straightened up and scratched at his beard with a slight grimace. "Indeed..." Then he paused for a long moment before his eyes slid to her.
She narrowed her eyes under his calculating expression. "What?"
"Where's your razor?"
"In my nightstand in the Netch," she answered cautiously. "Why?"
"Hmmm..." He gazed up as if to study the ever-unchanging clouds and just when she was about to insist that he reveal exactly what he was planning, the demand instead came out as an outraged yelp as he scooped her up into his arms. She sputtered and scoffed as he headed toward the tavern. "Come," he said as if she had a choice. "There is much to do."
