They finally emerged on a small path leading towards the end of the docks – where the East Empire Company warehouse was.
It was a relief to finally be out of those catacombs and out in the fresh air. The sun was already setting on the horizon and Bishop and Aeyrin were still uncomfortably damp and filthy, but at least they were feeling better now. Neither of them had sustained any severe injuries so, after gulping down a magicka potion, Aeyrin had managed to take care of any unpleasant wounds in the catacombs already.
Now the only tasks ahead of them were to lock the docks exit to the tombs, return the key to the priests and then report to Elisif. It would probably be much better to get rid of the filth before they did that though and there was no rush anyway. With Potema taken care of, no danger awaited anyone in the catacombs.
The idea of rushing straight to Elisif to get the house and a place to rest freely was tempting, but the explaining and bureaucracy that would precede it certainly deterred them. After all, it was possible that the house would not be ready to be occupied, just like in Riften. And they were in dire need of relaxation right now.
Elisif and the priests could wait. The comforts of the Skeever were their next destination.
After they got rid of at least some of the filth.
Bishop and Aeyrin locked the door to the catacombs tight and headed out towards the pier. Their armors were already way too uncomfortable, so they stopped near the warehouse entrance and dropped their packs by the water. The docks were still bustling with people at this hour and the songs of drunken sailors carried throughout the air. The place looked busier than usual for some reason, but the two of them had never spent that much time at the docks to actually know for sure if this was out of the ordinary. It did look like the ships and boats had trouble fitting by the piers though. Perhaps the restrictions on the docks in Windhelm made the trade ships change their course and boosted the traffic in Solitude.
The two of them began to take off their armors at last, before they started to work on removing the worst of the ashes and dirt. They definitely needed to wash everything again properly at the inn, including themselves, but they needed to at least make it a little acceptable before they shoved their equipment back into their packs.
"So, straight to the Skeever, right?" Bishop asked with a hopeful tone in his voice when they finally put their armors back in their packs and readied themselves to head back to the city.
"Yes, I just want a bath," Aeyrin let out an exasperated sigh. Her hair looked positively grey, as did Bishop's, and she hadn't felt this filthy and sticky in a long time. Elisif could definitely wait.
They walked along the pier and up the stairs leading towards the city approach while the bustle and noise of the docks dissipated in the distance. The road there was much calmer and there was barely anyone on it, aside from one figure in the distance near a familiar mill.
Bishop and Aeyrin didn't pay much attention to it until they got a bit closer. The area looked completely empty, with vacant stables and a farmhouse with no visible lights inside. The trees around were burnt to a crisp, void of any leaves or needles, and the ground had sizable scorch marks on it too. This must have been the site of the dragon attack that Elisif had mentioned – it was so close to the city.
And in the middle of it all was a man, stumbling around. His walk was wobbly and he was always swaying from side to side. He was clearly drunk. But it was not just that which caught their attention.
The man kept stopping in his wobbly tracks, bending down to grab something by his foot. He didn't seem to ever succeed, however, so he stumbled forward again before he bent down and tried once more.
It was probably best to ignore the drunkard, but once they continued on their path and got a little closer, he bent down again and, this time, it looked like he managed to grab something. He straightened up sharply, but as he did, with the item in his hand that looked like some kind of twig, he managed to tangle himself up in a confusing mess of limbs and clothes and slipped, toppling to the ground. A loud scream of pain echoed through the area, followed by a string of very colorful curses.
He got hurt. And as tired as Aeyrin was, in no mood to deal with a drunkard, she still needed to help him. He could have really hurt himself with that stunt and she really doubted that any of the other sailors and traders occasionally passing through would actually stop and help him.
She could hear Bishop's exasperated sigh behind her back as she quickened her strides to approach the person. It was not surprising that he would rather ignore the drunk, but she couldn't. She would only feel guilty after, no matter what.
She rushed towards the man who still remained crumbled on the ground, mumbling incoherently. He was clutching something in his hand and, after further inspection, it appeared to be a small piece of driftwood, old and covered with dangling algae. It must have been that thing which had caused his fall. His tall boots had so many golden buckles on them – anything would get caught in very easily.
He was a Redguard with long unkempt black hair and a bushy beard in the same state. The man reeked of rum and he was dressed in strangely lavish clothes. Not ones that a noble would wear, they were clearly functional and sturdy, with simple tunic and trousers, but his long black coat was decorated by gilded buttons and ornaments as well as some pinned feathers and trinkets. He was covered with cheap-looking gaudy jewelry too. If she didn't know any better, she would have guessed that he was a pirate, adorned with the bounty of his plunders. But a pirate would likely avoid Solitude.
"Are you alright?" She knelt down by the man and looked him over. Though she couldn't see what the state of his leg was under the boot, of course.
"Aye! Aye!" the man yelled out very loudly and with an audible slur in his voice. He seemed to be looking around in confusion for a while, as if he was wondering where the voice even came from, before his glassy eyes finally focused on Aeyrin. He blinked a few times, before he outstretched his hand towards her, still holding the piece of driftwood. "'Ey. Help me… help me up, pr'tty!"
Aeyrin wasn't exactly sure if the man would be able to stand, but he probably knew better. At least he wasn't wailing in pain. She reached out with her hand towards his wrist, past the piece of wood, but before she could touch him, she quickly jerked his hand away.
"No! C'rful! C'rful don't touch it!" He pointedly pulled the driftwood out of her reach.
At the same time, Aeyrin could sense Bishop's presence come up from behind her. She could already imagine the annoyed expression on his face.
"Princess, he doesn't look hurt, just leave him to pass out or something," he grumbled. He just wanted to bathe. With her. And to lie down on a bed at last. With her. They hardly needed to waste their time on some drunken sailor, right?
Aeyrin ignored him. He may have been right, but she needed to make sure that the man wasn't hurt and wouldn't end up stuck here alone in this abandoned place without being able to walk.
"Don't worry, I won't touch your… stick," she couldn't help but chuckle a bit as she turned back towards the Redguard. "Let me help you up."
"No, I'm… I'm tryin' to help ya," the man slurred. "This stick! Is eevil!" He pulled the piece of driftwood towards his chest as if he wanted to keep it from her even more adamantly.
"Sure it is," Aeyrin smirked. Why was he still holding it, if it was so evil?
"N-no," he shook his head and leaned in towards her, although he didn't manage much else but sway in place. "Listen. Listen. L'sten. I'm s'rious. It followed me. Came straight outta 'Blivion."
"Driftwood out of Oblivion? Right," Aeyrin snickered again. Even if that was in any way possible, it was still just a stick. "Can you stand?" she asked the man to get the conversation back on track. She really didn't care about the driftwood.
"Nah, lass. It hurt me! Followed from… from all the… all the way down," he gestured vaguely at the road leading down towards a sawmill. He had likely stumbled from back there for some reason. "Tried to… to trip me. We… we gotta d'stroy it!"
"Fine," Bishop rolled his eyes. This had gone on long enough already. He stepped towards the man and, before anyone else could react, he yanked the driftwood from him forcibly. The man swayed in spot and let out a shocked gasp, but Bishop already had that thing well out of reach. He promptly raised his hand and threw the piece of wood away, into the direction of the river. There was no way that it would actually end up in the water – that would have been a long distance to throw something – but at least it would be gone.
"Doesn't… doesn't matter," the man hiccupped. "S'mthing else will… will come."
Aeyrin and Bishop briefly exchanged a confused glance, but there was probably no point in trying to make sense of this man's ramblings. Aeyrin just still needed to make sure that he wasn't hurt.
"Come on then, let me help you stand up," she gave the Redguard an encouraging smile.
"Aye, aye, thanks, pr'tty. Need to get back to… to the ship!" Finally he outstretched his arm again, allowing her to help him up on his feet.
Aeyrin quickly grabbed his arm, before he could think of some other ridiculous delay, and she supported his weight as he stood up. She noticed that he avoided stepping on one of his legs, but once he was standing, he tried to put a little bit of weight on it. The result was an instant loud howl of pain.
"Alright, easy. Don't worry, I can help," Aeyrin kept supporting his weight while he wobbled helplessly on one foot. "I can heal you… probably," she muttered the last part under her breath. It was probably just a sprain or a small fracture at worst. That would be fine.
"No! No! No healing!" the Redguard exclaimed. Great. Was he also afraid of magic like a lot of the Nords? He couldn't even stand! What was wrong with people?
"Come on, you need healing," she let out an exasperated sigh.
"No, lass, list'n! Me mates, they need to see wha' happened," he shook his head. "They don't believe me, ya know? They don't believe I'm haun'ed."
This man was getting more and more ridiculous. Aeyrin couldn't help but chuckle. Maybe it all felt funnier by the abundance of healing potions she had already ingested throughout their journey in the catacombs. Or maybe it was Bishop's exasperated sighs that made it even funnier.
"Don't be silly, you need to get healed," she smiled at him encouragingly.
"There's a 'ealer lad on me ship! But they need to see. Please, me pr'tty. Help me get to… to me ship," he looked at her pleadingly. As unpleasant as dragging a hurt drunkard all the way down to the docks sounded, it might be actually faster than convincing him to get some healing. And Aeyrin was kind of enjoying the nonsense he was spouting for some reason. It was a good diversion after the exhausting battles.
"Really, princess?" Bishop growled. He could already see that she was actually considering doing as the drunk had asked.
"What? You said we should have some fun," Aeyrin giggled at him in turn.
"'Fun'?! This is not fun," he scoffed.
"Is fun if you get more drunk, lad!" the man laughed at him.
That would probably be the only way this could be actually fun. Bishop only rolled his eyes at the man, but Aeyrin seemed determined to actually take him to the docks. At the very least, Bishop was not going to watch that lout paw at her constantly, pretending to need 'supporting'.
Bishop looked around the area quickly before he noticed a largely un-charred long piece of wood on the ground. Hopefully the idiot wouldn't claim that this came straight out of Oblivion too, or some other bullshit like that. He quickly grabbed the stick and shoved it into the man's hand.
"Here. Now you can walk. Alone," he narrowed his eyes at the Redguard.
Aeyrin shot Bishop a knowing smirk. She realized that offering that stick to the man had nothing to do with being helpful, but she didn't say a word on the subject. She didn't really want to exactly drag the man either, but she could still make sure that he made it to his ship unharmed. That seemed like the best option. And she was quite curious to learn why the man thought that he was being 'haunted'.
The Redguard only reluctantly grabbed the stick with his other arm, the one on the side where he had hurt his leg, and he carefully balanced himself against it. To his credit, despite the drunkenness, he managed to actually stand. Aeyrin still held him by the fabric of his coat for a while, but soon, he looked to be doing alright on his own. He was still swaying a lot, but he never actually stumbled.
"I 'ope the stick won't trip me, lad," he eyed the branch dubiously.
"We'll walk with you, make sure you get there alright," Aeyrin smiled. "Are you sure you don't want healing though?" she looked at his foot dubiously. It would probably be quite grueling for him to get down to the docks. Ordinarily, she would have insisted much more about the man getting healing, whether he wanted to or not, but he was going to get treated in a while anyway. And she still felt a little… depleted after the catacombs. She wasn't even sure if she could manage to heal him anyway.
"Thank you, me pr'tty," the man grinned at her. "Name's Joa-Jackra-Jackraos V'agram. C'ptin Jackar-Ja… Call me c'ptin Jack, lass."
That was probably for the best. She had already forgotten the name he had told her. She wasn't even sure if he said it correctly with all the stammering.
He finally started to move. Slowly, but surprisingly steadily. The sway in his steps didn't seem to slow him down, even with the stick in place of his leg. Although he kept putting some weight on it nonetheless, letting out the occasional hiss of pain.
"Would you like a healing potion?" Aeyrin asked. He could at least accept that, couldn't he? It was uncomfortable to watch him like that.
"I'd like… like more rum, lass. But p'tion will do," he nodded. They didn't have many potions in their supplies left anymore, but it didn't matter much. They would be back in the city soon again.
Aeyrin fished out a potion from her pack and handed it to Jack. He stopped for a spell to down the contents while Aeyrin looked back at Bishop. He was following with a deep scowl on his face. She couldn't help but find it amusing, how grumpy he got over a little detour like this.
"So, Jack," she turned back to the 'captain'. "Why do you think you're haunted?"
"Ya never know when it 'appens, lass," Jack let out a forlorn sigh as he wobbled forward towards the wooden steps leading to the docks. "Never know when ya can get cur-cursed."
Aeyrin gave him a curious look. Now it was a curse? She was sure that however he was going to explain his predicament, it was going to be largely nonsensical, but the man didn't speak again for a while. There was a moment of silence as he swayed along the road, and it almost turned uncomfortable, but once they reached the wooden steps, he stopped and pointed to a box that had been lying there, tucked to the side and mostly out of the way.
"S'is it," he scoffed. "Is cursed, lass. I learned ma less'n. I'm leavin' it. No more curse."
She turned her gaze towards the crate, but before she could question Jack any further, Bishop had already crouched down towards it and took off the lid. It wasn't even bolted shut.
There was nothing more than a few bottles inside that crate.
"It's rum," Bishop raised his brow as he peered at the bottles. Several of them were clearly missing already, but there were still five of them left in there.
"Is evil, lad. Don' drink it," Jack attempted to wave his hand dismissively, but the gesture was much less coordinated than he had probably expected, as his whole body wavered along with it.
Bishop curiously took one of the bottles and uncorked it. It was just rum. Why would he believe some bullshit about it being cursed? But once he sniffed the lid a bit, a memory came back to his mind. This wasn't just rum.
"Is that Stros M'kai rum?" he couldn't hide the hopeful tone from his voice. He remembered this all too well. Once, back when Sammy used to be in charge of the bandit clan in Lost Knife, they managed to steal a whole huge shipment of this rum. It was rarely imported to Skyrim and it was really expensive. Sammy wanted to sell it all, but those that had ambushed the caravan, including Bishop, managed to convince him to keep a crate for them as payment. He still remembered the nights he would spend with Jules at Nilheim, just drinking through the night. That was before he even knew about Jules's condition.
"Boy, I'm tellin' ya! Leave it. It brings nothing but trouble," Jack scowled fiercely at Bishop.
Aeyrin couldn't help but giggle at this. It was likely that the strong alcohol brought the man some trouble. His present state spoke for itself after all. She would hardly call that a curse though.
"I don't think the rum's to blame," she smirked at the man.
"L'sten, pr'tty. I know. I know now. A monster came, straight outta 'Blivion. It did somethin' to my rum. It pissed in it or somethin'. I don' know. Ruined it," Jack shook his head incredulously.
Bishop scowled at the idea. Not that he believed that for a second, but it was a disturbing image nonetheless. He sniffed the bottle once more, only assaulted by the same fond memories again, before he took a small sip. It tasted just like he remembered.
Aeyrin gave him a curious look, but he only shrugged his shoulders at her before taking another swig from the bottle. It looked like there was nothing wrong with the rum, not that she had expected anything else, but she was still strangely curious about Jack's babbling. It was quite entertaining.
"Why do you think that, Jack?" she snickered, curious to hear more of his tall tales.
"'Cause I seen it, lass!" he frowned. For a second, she wanted to question whether he actually saw a monster from Oblivion, but he interrupted that query by weaving the explanation himself. "S'metimes, my pr'tty, when I drink one of these, stra-strange things 'appen. Crazy things. I wake up strange pla-places. I'm… I'm told I done strange things. People are angry, I find things on meself, like… like… like wood! And I don' remember."
Aeyrin wasn't sure how to react to that at first, but soon enough, a burst of genuine laughter from Bishop interrupted the conversation.
"Yeah, it's cursed alright. Never heard of stuff like that happening after drinking. Ever," he chuckled. Aeyrin was right. This was kinda fun. That guy was ridiculous.
"Don' laugh, lad! Don' laugh," Jack scowled at him. "You don' know. I seen it. I lived it. Stay away from that box. Is straight outta Oblivion."
"Alright Jack," Aeyrin giggled at him before she gestured with her hands towards the docks. "Let's get you to your healer so that you can tell your mates. We should get away from the cursed box."
"Right! Right!" Jack nodded at her vehemently. "Sma-Smart and pr'tty you are, lass. When we… when we get there, I'll even show you my… my cabin."
"Yeah, you're not showing her anything," Bishop scoffed, but he still remained crouched by the box while Aeyrin and Jack slowly moved towards the steps. "I doubt you'll even be able to find your cabin anyway." He muttered the last part mostly to himself as he looked once more at the bottles. That drunk didn't want them anymore, although that might have been just his current state talking. But either or, it didn't matter. He hadn't seen Stros M'kai rum in ages and he couldn't pass this up.
Jack wasn't paying any attention to Bishop as he swayed forth, carefully balancing himself on the wooden steps. Good. Bishop didn't really want to listen to those warnings about booze from Oblivion anymore. It was best if the man didn't know. And Aeyrin's attention was diverted as well while she watched out for the drunk, making sure he didn't fall over the flimsy ropes around the platform that served as railing.
He grabbed three bottles from the crate and stashed two of them inside his pack. The drink was really good and pleasantly spiced. He was pretty sure that Aeyrin would enjoy it too. They could crack a bottle open together some night. Probably not while they were in Solitude though. There was too much spiced wine there to pass up.
He took the third bottle and, while he watched Aeyrin and Jack make their way across the steps out of the corner of his eye, he quickly fished out his waterskin from his pack. He spilled the water out onto the ground and began filling it instead with the contents of the third bottle. If nothing else, he was determined to make this stupid diversion entertaining and the rum would definitely help. Besides, he missed the taste and he craved more right now. He didn't want to wait until they dragged the man all the way down to the docks. Aeyrin would probably not want to drink with him on the way and it was best if Jack didn't know that Bishop had stolen some of his rum. She could just have what would be left in Bishop's waterskin after they got rid of that man. If there would be anything left, that is.
He straightened up again and fastened his waterskin to his belt inconspicuously, just as Aeyrin turned her head back to check on him. He merely nodded at her to signal that he was coming and he made a few quick strides to catch up.
"So, if the rum is cursed, why are you leaving it for someone else to find? Won't they get in trouble?" Aeyrin smirked at Jack as they continued on. To his credit, he was doing quite well, walking across the platforms and steps with only the help of the branch. Although he was putting more weight on his injured foot now with the potion in effect – it was clearly not broken. Aeyrin had expected this all to be much more problematic. This man definitely had some practice with drunken stumbling.
"Hmm?" Jack looked at her in bafflement. The question genuinely seemed to surprise him. Or maybe it took a while for him to actually decipher it. "Ma-maybe… maybe s'me of those… those shiny pricks… will get it. And… sancti… sacktit... bless it, or s'methin'. They're here ev'rywhere, lass."
"Don't you know?" Bishop smirked while he hung back some distance behind Jack and Aeyrin. "Shiny pricks don't touch rum. It's an unholy temptation."
"Right! He's right," Jack scowled fiercely. "S'methin' wrong 'bout s'meone who never touches rum."
"Hear, hear," Bishop chuckled before he took another subtle swig from his waterskin. Damn, that rum was good. And it was sure to make Jack's prattle more fun. Although his opinions about the paladins were spot on, drunk or not.
Aeyrin only snickered at their exchange. It was not like it mattered what would happen to the rum anyway. Some other sailor would very likely steal it within the hour and they would have a more entertaining evening themselves.
Jack continued to walk unsteadily over the platform until he stopped at the first landing. He looked at the myriad of ships and small boats, illuminated in an orange-pink hue of the setting sun. He stared at the scene for some time before he let out a wistful sigh. "Look at all those beauties."
"Which one's yours, Jack?" Aeyrin asked. It would be useful to know in case he passed out or something. Although he didn't look like he would, it was better to be safe than sorry. Also it would give her at least some idea about how long this could take. As entertaining as he was, she was still looking forward to a bath and a comfortable bed.
"Ya can't see it, lass. Is hidden," Jack sighed in a somewhat forlorn manner.
"'Hidden'? Like… invisible? Is it also straight out of Oblivion?" Aeyrin giggled at him as she gestured pointedly towards the next set of stairs leading down to the docks. Luckily Jack got the hint and began to walk again.
"Nah, my pr'tty. Is just small," he tried to wave his free hand dismissively, but it only made him stagger a bit more. There were so many ships in the harbor that day that it was quite possible that some of them were less visible, squeezed in between larger ones. But the vantage point was good – it was more likely that Jack couldn't really tell it apart in his state.
Aeyrin let out another chuckle at that, but she did get a little concerned about how they would find their destination. Jack, however, seemed to take her reaction a bit more personally than she had expected.
"L'sten, lass," he turned towards her sharply, so much so that he almost stumbled. Aeyrin quickly reached for him and grabbed him by the shoulders to steady him. Moves like these could have him falling right over that flimsy rope-railing, onto the rocks below.
"Lass, is not the… is not the size of the boat, that's imp-important. Is the… the… the oars yer steerin' with," he stammered drunkenly.
Aeyrin couldn't help but chuckle at that as well. She wasn't exactly sure if it was supposed to be a euphemism, she thought so at first, but she didn't really get the 'oars' part. But it was amusing how serious he looked just then. He almost looked like her laughter at the size of his boat actually really hurt his feelings, even if she didn't really laugh at that.
"The oars. Right," he nodded in affirmation. "And the… the… sails too," he pondered for a while, as if he was genuinely thinking about the topic now. Aeyrin had no idea if any of these were still euphemisms. Or if any of them ever were.
"Aye. A boat's gotta 'ave good… good sails," Jack grinned at her before he gave her a sly wink. "You 'ave s'me nice sails too, my pr'tty."
Alright, now it was clear. Aeyrin's face instantly flushed bright crimson and she let out a flustered laugh while her hands instinctively darted to wrap around her chest. Jack barely even acted as if he had made any such comment and his eyes turned back from her to the ships. Now she was pretty sure he was more interested in actual sails.
"Put your oars anywhere near her sails and you're losing your rudder," Bishop's growl echoed from behind Aeyrin's back, but even he sounded a tiny bit amused.
"Oooh," Jack chuckled at Bishop in turn. "He's a mean… mean one, isn't he? I better… better watch me stern." He attempted to narrow his eyes at Bishop warily, though it looked more like he actually closed them, before he started to take a step back. It seemed like he wanted to try to walk back while he remained turned towards the two of them, but Aeyrin quickly grabbed him by the shoulders again. That was not a good idea on steps when one was sober, let alone in this state.
She spun Jack around again and positioned him the right way quickly. It took him a while to get his bearings after that, but eventually, he began walking once more – down the stairs and towards the docks.
Their walk was silent for a while as Jack concentrated on the steps he was taking. Aeyrin was constantly near him, ready to reach out if he stumbled. Those stairs were really not made for drunk people. She wondered how the sailors usually managed.
Bishop was still hanging back, enjoying his drink. It was starting to get him feeling a bit more buzzed already. He had almost forgotten how good it was.
They finally made it down the steps and Aeyrin relaxed considerably while Jack stumbled forward on the pier. It didn't matter much if he was swaying and wobbling now, as long as he didn't come too close to the edge of the pathway.
"Whaddya… whaddya doin' down 'ere anyways, lass?" Jack asked after the long silence. "You don' look like a… like a sailor."
"We were killing undead down in the catacombs," she grinned at him. He looked like someone who would enjoy a tale of adventure.
Just as she had suspected, Jack's glassy eyes went wide instantly. He stammered something unintelligible for a while before he narrowed his gaze at her in suspicion. "Undead in the… in the cata-cat… crypt? Yer pulling me leg, lassy."
"Well, there aren't any there now. But the catacombs were crawling with them," Aeyrin chuckled. He looked positively astonished.
"Right… right under the city? S'me… S'meone else must… must be cursed," he shook his head incredulously. Everything was a curse to this man. Although… this particular thing did involve some sinister magic.
"It's possible," she smirked at him. "But don't worry, no undead will come storming your ship at night."
"Aye," he grinned back at her with yet another wink. "I knew… knew you could 'andle the… the sword, my pr'tty."
She wanted to correct him, but before she could, Bishop piped up again suddenly.
"Oh yeah, she definitely can," he chuckled merrily. Even without thinking about his words, Aeyrin could recognize his suggestive tone instantly. "One handed, two handed, you name it."
She felt her face heat up again as she cleared her throat uncomfortably in her fluster. She kind of wanted to get drunk right then too, so that these comments wouldn't make her so embarrassed. Sometimes, she felt like she got used to this kind of talk with Bishop around, but other times, she just felt like she never would. It was also a bit concerning that they still had the same effect on her – the nervous heat spreading on her cheeks that in part made her want to just hide somewhere and in another part made her want to prolong that state.
"Aye!" Jack laughed heartily. "That's what I… I like to 'ear." He stumbled forward a bit more forcefully, but he didn't fall and only laughed it off before he started to talk again. "Me, I had me share of… of adven-advan-adventures. All over… over 'ammerfell. Even been a… a pirate a while. Plun-plunderin', lookin'… lookin' for treasures. Those were… were the days, my frien's."
Aeyrin thought about him being a pirate before. He definitely looked like she had always imagined a pirate to look like, but that was likely mostly because of the gaudy jewelry. And now he even had a peg leg… of sorts.
"Why did you stop?" she asked curiously. Although she thought that maybe he didn't and he just couldn't admit that, of course.
"Is an… an ungrate-ungrateful job, lass," he sighed in response. "Not much treasure, not… not much… to plunder. An' com-competition's vicious."
"Should have stayed on land, Jack," Bishop smirked. "It's much easier to steal on land." Not that he knew anything about pirating or sailing in general. But it must have been much tougher to actually get some good hauls, right? It was not like one could sneak up on a ship.
"Nay," Jack shook his head vehemently, but it seemed to make him dizzy after a while. He swayed even more in his steps. "Ever been… ever been to 'ammerfell, lad? Is crazy hot. Too hot… too hot to do shit. Sea air's the only… only thing that saved me."
Bishop only shuddered in response. He didn't even want to imagine how hot it must be in Hammerfell. The Gold Coast was bad enough. Or Morrowind. Yeah, Morrowind was worse.
"So what do you do now?" Aeyrin turned her head back to Jack after Bishop stayed silent again. She noticed him drink out of his waterskin practically every time she turned around to look at him, but it probably wasn't anything out of the ordinary after all the ash he had inhaled in the catacombs. Just thinking about it made her throat burn and tickle uncomfortably and she promptly reached into her pack for her own water.
"Trade's… trade's where the… the drakes are, my pr'tty," Jack nodded at her. "I just… just bring spices. But me beauty's small and quick, so me crew… crew wants to do more… val-valu-value… 'spensive stuff."
Aeyrin got more excited by his mention of spices than anything more 'expensive'. Maybe she could convince Jack to let Bishop get some 'samples' from him for cooking. He would definitely know better than her what would be interesting to try out. There was a chance though that Jack wouldn't have anything different than what they were already used to getting in the Solitude markets.
"Do you have some rare spices?" she asked Jack eagerly. "Maybe we could buy a pouch from you." If he was even up for anything but passing out in his current state. But she still got excited over the prospect.
"Aye, lass. You sayin'… you sayin' you want to see me cabin?" Jack chuckled at her with another wink. She already knew what those winks meant by now.
"I'm saying that we want to see your spices. Wherever you keep them," she gave him a wry smile in return. She just hoped that it wouldn't elicit more euphemisms. From either of them.
"I… I dunno, my pr'tty," Jack scowled briefly. "Yer sure… sure you wanna bring 'im along?" he gestured vaguely in Bishop's direction before he stopped in his tracks and leaned a little closer to Aeyrin. It looked like he wanted to whisper to her, but the volume of his voice was still the same – very loud. "Don'cha… don'cha see how he… how he's leerin' at us? Like… like we're a couple… couple of pieces of… of horker meat."
Aeyrin chuckled at that. She wasn't even sure how he came to that conclusion, although when she looked back at Bishop, he did kind of seem like he had been watching her with a very familiar look in his eyes.
"Nah, you're much more appetizing to me than that," he smirked at her while he still kept his gaze fastened on her. She couldn't help but get flustered again under his scrutiny. Now she really wanted to be in the Skeever already.
Their moment got promptly interrupted by Jack, however, who suddenly sputtered incredulously at them. There was a brief moment of confusion as to what prompted that reaction, before Bishop let out an exasperated groan.
"Her. Not you," he rolled his eyes, but there was still that hint of amusement in his voice.
"Aye, good, good," Jack let out a brief chuckle. "Wouldn't… wouldn't wanna break… break yer 'eart, lad."
This time, Bishop actually laughed at that. Aeyrin could have sworn that he sounded a little drunk himself, but that was probably just her imagination. She turned back to Jack instead and nudged him gently, prompting him to walk forth again.
"Come on, Jack. We still need to get you to your healer."
"Aye, aye, lass. Almost… 'most there. See?" he pointed towards one of the smaller ships docked nearby. They really were almost there, fortunately. "You can… you can take… take some of me spice fer… fer bein' a nice lass and not… not throwin' me into the sea," he chuckled at her.
"Don't get ahead of yourself," Bishop smirked at him. "We're still not there. You can still end up in the water."
…
"Just drop him there. He's fakin' anyways," the young Altmer scoffed as he gestured towards a somewhat lavish couch in the small cramped cabin.
Jack had managed to make it to his boat without incident, but as soon as the narrow gangplank stood before him, a problem appeared. He tried multiple times to go up, but his balance was too off and he kept stumbling backwards. In the end, Aeyrin decided to grab his arm, drape it over her shoulders and drag him to his cabin himself. He was quite heavy, but when Bishop took her pack from her it was more manageable to handle the weight. He didn't offer to help in any other way. In fact, he seemed highly amused by their efforts while he kept hanging back and drinking from his waterskin.
In the end, Aeyrin managed to get Jack back on the boat and a young Altmer appeared promptly to greet them. He seemed very annoyed with Jack, rolling his eyes and grumbling constantly, but he still directed them to Jack's cabin and followed suit.
Jack's cabin looked much like Jack himself. It smelled very strongly of rum and it was strangely opulent and gaudy, but with a palpable sense of… cheapness. The furniture was ornate and decorated by gilded accents, but it was clearly very old and worn. There were tons of exotic rugs and pillows, all made with colorful and silky patterned fabrics, as well as a small palm tree in a planter in the corner of the room with a few cacti below it. It was obvious that the room was filled with his comforts and memorabilia from Hammerfell.
Aeyrin lowered Jack on the couch as gently as she could, but he more or less plopped down heavily, no matter her efforts. With another sigh, the Altmer stepped towards him and crouched down with narrowed eyes.
"What's wrong with him this time?" he grumbled.
"He hurt his right leg," Aeyrin reported. Her eyes went briefly to Bishop, but he didn't seem invested in the situation at all. Instead, he was examining the room idly with his waterskin still in hand, looking over the gilded trinkets and small treasures scattered around everywhere. He almost looked like he was looking for valuables, but Aeyrin doubted that there was actually anything really expensive in that room.
"Eeevil. Evil… twi-twig," Jack huffed out.
"Of course. Evil. Straight outta Oblivion, right?" the Altmer scoffed. Aeyrin couldn't help but giggle at that. She had already suspected that it was a common phrase of Jack's and this only confirmed it.
"Yes, the twig, the rum. Everything was cursed," she chuckled.
"Not surprised," the elf sighed. "He bought the rum from some travelin' salesmen once, real good price. Then he got shitfaced, woke up somewhere on the other side of Sentinel after doing a buncha crazy shit. He started to blab about the booze being cursed then. He still drinks it. But whenever he drinks too much and does some more crazy shit, he starts yappin' about that damn curse." The man yanked Jack's right boot off roughly before he grabbed him by the ankle, examining him.
"Nothing's wrong with your foot, you mud-brain," he growled after a while, letting the foot plop down heavily on the ground. That was a bit anticlimactic. He was fine the entire time? No wonder he had such little trouble walking. "By the way, where's that damn rum? Did he leave it somewhere again? It was cheap for that Stros M'kai shit, but still expensive."
"He… left it by the wooden steps, above the docks," Aeyrin gave him a sympathetic nod. She wasn't sure if Jack would be happy or disappointed that the rum was back on his boat again. If he was so bothered by it, why did he keep drinking it?
"Great. Fuckin' great," the elf scoffed. "I'm gonna have to send someone to get it before some asshat steals it."
Bishop gave the elf a brief look before he turned his head back towards the trinkets in the room with a subdued snicker. He really shouldn't laugh right now. It would give him away. The elf would definitely take those bottles from him. And he couldn't let that happen. The rum was so good, so expensive and he liked remembering the taste and his time with Jules back in Nilheim.
"'Ey! Tibby! Don' leave!" Jack suddenly exclaimed. He looked like he had already been passed out, but apparently, he was still conscious of his surroundings. "Get the… the pr'tty lass s'me… s'methin' spicy. Fer bein' so nice an' pr'tty an'… havin' great sails."
"What?" the Altmer gave Jack an exasperated look while Aeyrin reddened in embarrassment again. Thank the Gods that the elf didn't know what Jack was babbling about.
"Uhm… he… he said that we could get some… spices, for the help," she mumbled uncertainly.
"Hmm, fine," the elf sighed, but he didn't really seem as annoyed by it as Aeyrin would have expected. "You definitely deserve some compensation for sufferin' this jackass. I'll get you a few pouches of some good stuff."
The Altmer stood up again and left the cabin, leaving the two of them alone with Jack passed out on the couch.
Aeyrin looked back at Bishop again. He was still sipping from his waterskin while he examined the room. Now he was by the small palm tree. He looked at it for a long while, running his fingers over the pointy leaves carefully, before he hovered his hand over one of the cacti. She watched him interact with the plants with strange fascination. He was being really strange. He placed his hand slowly on the cactus, then he immediately withdrew with a soft chuckle. Was he drunk from just the smell of rum in the cramped cabin? Or maybe he was a bit loopy from the healing potions in his system.
"'Ey, c'me 'ere, my pr'tty," Jack interrupted her from her fascination after a short while, waving his hand tiredly to beckon her closer. She really thought that he was asleep by now.
She leaned in closer to him. His voice was much quieter than it used to be as he was almost dozing off already. His eyes were closed and he had an enviably content expression on his face.
"Lass, yer so nice. Most… most people woulda… woulda robbed me blind 'stead," he mumbled tiredly. "Ya gotta… gotta drink with me s'me...s'metime. Nothin' cursed! That a prom-promise."
Aeyrin only chuckled at him in return. He did look like he would be the life of the party when he could still talk more coherently. And walk. That ship had sailed for today though.
It didn't take long before the young Altmer came back with a few pouches in his hands.
It was a good time to leave anyway. The scent of rum alone was making Aeyrin a bit woozy in the cramped and heated cabin and Jack was already snoring loudly on his couch.
Bishop had been still playing with Jack's trinkets when the elf came back, but he turned his attention to the man instantly at that. Finally. They could leave. He didn't have that much rum left in his waterskin anymore and he was starting to get bored. There were other things he would rather be doing right then than idling on someone's boat.
Aeyrin promptly took the spice pouches from the elf and said her goodbyes. She had never wanted to bathe more. Even as they left the cabin and walked down the gangplank, the smell of rum still lingered around her.
Then again, she was kind of tempted to have a strong drink herself, after the long day.