It was on my third day in the University that, alone and nervous, I explored the Mystic Archives.

Bolor had given me only a quick show of it, the lower floor, where Cyrodiilic literature and more common books were held. I crept inside, smiling at the musty scent of books and dust, running my fingers along ridged spines, raised letters. My earlier lecture still echoing fresh in my mind I slipped The Wild Elves beneath my arm, curling in one of the plush chairs charred slightly on its arm. I grinned to myself, humming tunelessly as I read, whiling away the hours as the heavy clouds hanging like a blanket and gentle lullaby of rain heralded a lazy day.

It was closer to, and somehow farther from my little nook than I'd ever imagined.

"Excuse me?"

I glanced up at the rasp of a voice, blinking back my surprise as an Argonian gazed heavy-lidded at me. She smiled, baring sharp teeth, words hissing along her tongue as she spoke. "I need to fix up that chair, apprentice."

"Ah, of course!" I stood hurriedly, watching as she bent over the charred cushioning and swept it clean in a brush of magicka. She hemmed, fingering the remaining scar and frowning as cotton hung on her talon.

"Foolish apprentices. No offense, of course. I'm just sick and tired of having to clean up after them, day after day." She grumbled, more to herself than me. "Is it so much to ask? No eating in the stacks. Neat. Quiet."

I thought of the carrot I'd been munching earlier and swallowed. "Ah. I suppose not."

"Exactly! I appreciate magicka just as much as the rest, but setting furniture on fire is ridiculous." I bit my lip, listening rather helplessly to her lecture as she fiddled with the burn, this time releasing a puff of white smoke and a hiss of a curse. "I am sorry, apprentice, I've just had a rough day. And..." She murmured something I didn't quite catch, fixated on her work on the stubborn burn.

"Bergamot seeds and a bit of seawater might draw that out." I spoke before I'd realized I had, going dumb as she gave me a glance with a frown. "Uh. Sorry."

"No, I believe you may be right. Alchemy isn't my strong suit, but seawater certainly has cleaning properties around the home." She smiled, relief washing warm over me. "What's your name, apprentice?"

"Dust. I, ah, just arrived here a few days ago."

"Ah, yes. I remember Bolor giving you the tour." She chuckled, shaking her head while her headpiece rang delicately around her fins. "Rogue of a Dunmer. Don't let him lead you astray, mm?"

I joined in her laugh, relaxing. "I won't. He has quite the sense of humour."

"That he does. Quite personable, too. If it weren't for his Necromancy..."

"Then I'd be a spectacular example of a well-behaved, boring little puppet, now wouldn't I, Tar-Meena?"

"Savel!" Tar-Meena and I jumped, she barking at him with a glare. "If you don't get rid of that damned charm, I will. That ring just makes it easier for you to cause trouble." She frowned as he pulled it off, slipping it in his pocket with a sly smirk. "And wipe that smile off your face."

"Yes, Master-Wizard." He sniggered, slipping an arm around me. I'd grown used to it - touch was one of his ways of speaking, and I'd become fond of that. "A thousand apologies, each and every one without a hint of sincerity. This ring is an old gift, you know." He raised a brow. "A Telvanni friend of mine. I wouldn't want to offend him, that's for damn sure."

"Of course we wouldn't." She rolled her eyes, turning to me with a kind smile. "I'll leave the chair, then. Or maybe you'd like to help?"

"Of course!" I fiddled with my sleeve, her title echoing in mind. "Master-Wizard."

"Don't feel obliged," Bolor warned. "Tar-Meena frightens off enough apprentices as is."

"Oh, hush." Tar-Meena snickered.

Friends. It astonished me, how easily the two got along. A Dunmer and Beastfolk - all I'd ever read had claimed them enemies, master and slave. But they were obviously colleagues and more, with the jokes they shared, their smiles. Only when I went to leave, Bolor by my side, did Tar-Meena's smile slip away.

"Bolor."

"Yes?" He turned, his hand on my back. Tar-Meena only raised a brow, utterly like Miss Tucket in her reprisal.

"Oh, don't make that face. I know perfectly well what I'm doing." Bolor scoffed, both ignoring my confusion. "She'll be by tomorrow to help." He shook his head, his smile slipping only for a moment before he met my eye. "There's a fascinating lecture on death rites and lore this evening. Taught by a very handsome Dunmer," he added with a grin.

"Wonderful." I laughed, shrugging off the strange ending with Tar-Meena and hurrying by his side. "I'll be there."