I awoke with a jolt, confused by the strange sounds and silk blankets twisted around me. A flickering candle stood at my bedside, dark shapes yawning and stretching in beds of their own.

The University. I'm at the University. I smiled, stretching with a languid yawn. I'm free. I watched through sleepy eyes as the other students awoke, warm and content with my blanket puled around my shoulders to simply absorb the sights around me.

A retort, like mine - advanced, though. I watched a student carefully handle the alchemical piece, polished to a diamond shine. The whisper of ruffled paper and quiet murmurs surrounded me, books being carried as though they might crumble to nothing at a sneeze. Precious tomes of knowledge, open only to students.

To me, I realized with a slow smile. Open to me.

A clock tolled seven bells, startling me from bed with a yelp. I winced as my feet hit cold stone, wiggling my toes and slipping my robe over my head, stuffing my feet into shoes. Dammit, dammit, I'm late! My first day and I'm bloody late! I dashed up the stairs, clutching my bag and cursing under my breath. The crowd around me jostled, and I bit back annoyance at being bumped back and forth before bursting away and breaking into a full run. Raindrops pitter-pattered from the sky, making me grimace and slip beneath a spell before lurching to the main tower.

"Damn, damn, damn..."

"Miss Dust."

Oh, damn. I stopped short, cracking a weak smile under the reproving frown of the Dunmer scholar.

"You are precisely seven minutes late, and wearing your shoes on the wrong feet." I gulped, flushing red as I glanced down and wiggled my oddly uncomfortable feet. He chuckled, a brassy tone, catching my attention. "Fashionably late, and a creative use of footwear, apprentice. Come along."

"Yessir." I meekly followed, unsure of whether to laugh at his dry humour. He paused, motioning for me to join him and pulling something from his satchel.

"What is this, Miss Dust?"

I blinked. A rosy-skinned, dimpled apple sat in his dusky palm. "An apple?"

"Quite." He smirked, vermillion eyes fixed on me. "What else?"

"Ahh..." I gave him a nervous glance before taking the apple, gingerly turning it over in my palm. I brought it to my lips, not to bite but to feel its smooth skin, smell its tart sweetness. "It's quite fresh. They grow in the Heartlands, generally, and ripen in late autumn. Though this one has been treated to stay good," I added at catching a whiff of bitterness. "A member of the nightshade family, so on a more complex level it can be used for poison. Its fibrous properties are also helpful for magicka to draw upon." I paused, frowning in thought. "A mild aphrodisiac, as well."

"Well done." The Dark Elf quirked a brow, smirking. "An alchemist, I presume? To the Lustratorium. And - " He looked back, giving me a curt nod as we walked. "Feel free to consider that your breakfast."

I took a bite, chewing thoughtfully and smiling at the crunch of sweetness, the rumble in my belly. I dashed to his side again - his strides easily outrunning my own, even walking. "I'm interested in all schools, actually, but I do have a particular fondness for Alchemy."

"Oh? You seem apt. You'll advance quickly here, I'm sure." A gentle snicker. "You've already lost the need to call me sir."

"Ah..." I bit my lip, flushing. "Sorry, sir."

He paused, giving me a kind smile. "I jest, friend. Bolor Savel, scholar, rank of Wizard and teacher of the posthumous art of restoration." He grinned, pearly teeth contrasting prettily with dark skin. "At your service."

"Charmed." I beamed, beguiled by his wit, then bit my lip in thought. "Posthumous - ?"

"Necromancy, yes." He tilted his head. "Legal in Cyrodiil, though I am one of the few who openly admit to practicing it."

"Oh." I tried to stop a grimace, uncertain of what to say until he laughed again.

"Some fear is quite normal, I assure you. But my advances in the field have proved most useful in saving the living, and the Arch Mage has approved my work." He scowled. "At least some of us are open-minded. But nevermind my ramblings, eh? We need to get you equipped proper." He took my hand, laughing in his throat at my gasp and examining it carefully as I blushed. What's he doing? His skin tingled slightly, remnants of magick workings - and what else? I worried my lip, wincing.

"I do wash my hands, you know." He murmured dryly, casting me a small smile before turning back to my hand. "Leather gauntlets, size four, then." He dropped my hand. "I apologize for startling you."

"No, it's alright. I've never touched a Dunmer before." I gasped as my own words set in. Dammit, Dust, think before you open your bloody mouth! "I'm sorry! I meant, ah - "

For a dreadful moment I feared I'd offended him, then his laugh rang out. He slung an arm around my shoulder, walking me back towards the buildings and the Alchemy Garden as he chuckled. "I like you, Dust. May I abandon formalities?" He continued at my nod. "Wonderful. I am honoured to be the first Dunmer you've ever touched. I suppose it should be expected you've had little contact, from High Rock." He nodded me inside a building, the door neatly labeled with a brassy plate - Lustratorium. "Come along. We'll get you fitted for gloves, given alchemy tools, then we'll tour the rest."

With a meek nod and bright smile, I followed.