Prompt: Dunmer
Focus: Talkeeva


"'Keeth, think you could do me a favor?"

Talkeeva smirked inwardly as she watched the Argonian stumble a bit, his focus shaken as he slipped a little on the icy bridge that lead into Windhelm. When she was sure that Derkeethus had gotten his balance back, she folded her arms, drumming her fingers against her arm as she waited for an answer.

"Er, a favor?" Her companion repeated with a grunt, adjusting the fit of his belt. She blinked; the suit of leather armor she'd given him didn't fit very well. She'd have to find him a better one later. "What is it that you need?"

"There's apparently a fine jewelery shop somewhere in the eastern part of the city," She explained, briefly looking down as she tugged a metal band off of her glove, staring at the intricate setting before passing it to Derkeethus. He gingerly pinched the ring between his thumb and finger, giving the metalworking a once-over. "Mind bringing this over and having it get checked? Oh, but don't put it on, it's got strong magic in it. Tell the jeweler about that too."

"I'll see it done, then." Derkeethus curled his hand into a tight fist as they pushed through the heavy city gates, and she saw as he waved a silent goodbye before jogging off towards the Gray Quarter. Exhaling, she stretched her arms out, drinking deep of the dry, chilly air as the sight of the inn caught her eye, and she slowly began to walk towards the warm, though not particularly inviting, building. A mug of ale sounded good right about now.

"... Ather or Athon or whatever, should go back to Morrowind, where you belong..."

The Argonian stopped in her tracks, her head snapping to the right as the harsh words passed her by, and she felt herself stiffen as she looked over at the stone steps. A dark-skinned woman, her hands held at her hips, trembled ever-so-slightly as two Nords hurled abuse at her, the mer's expression unchanging with every word. Talkeeva gritted her teeth, her train of thought lost as she watched the scene unfold.

"...eat our food, you pollute our city with your stink, and you refuse to help the Stormcloaks!" One Nord, done up in old clothes and a hat, finished yelling his tirade at the Dunmer, pausing to catch his breath. The woman offered up a response in the beat.

"Atheron," She spoke her surname testily, showing more irritation than fright at the Nord's insults. "And we haven't taken a side because it's not our fight-"

She was interrupted by the other Nord, who fondled the pommel of a rusty mace as he shivered, his ragged robes doing little to keep the cold out. "Hey, Rolff, maybe the reason these gray-skins don't help in the war is because they're Imperial spies!"

"Imperial spies!?" Atheron's eyes widened, and Talkeeva took a step towards the trio as the Dunmer took a step back, clearly astonished. "You can't be serious!"

"Maybe we'll pay you a visit tonight, little spy." Rolff helped the conversation along, pointing a meaty finger at the startled woman. He grinned darkly, cracking his knuckles. "We've got ways of finding out what you really are..."

As he finished speaking, he turned his head, expression turning from smugness to confusion to anger as his eyes locked onto Talkeeva's. "Hey! What do you think you're looking at, lizard?"

The slur shook the Argonian out of her trance, and she clenched her fists, striding over to the pair of men. Atheron helpfully sidestepped out of her way as she planted her feet firmly into the snow that coated the aging tile, glaring furiously at Rolff and his crony.

"Get out of here." She could barely contain the fury in her voice, digging the tips of her glove into her palm so hard she knew she would have drawn blood otherwise. "Now."

"Aw, is the lizard upset?" Rolff sneered. "Don't like it? Too bad. This is our city. Ours!"

"Don't think he can take you?" The other Nord chimed in, and Rolff nodded in agreement.

"You're not so tough, scaleskin. One hundred septims says I can punch you back where you came from!" Rolff challenged, laughing loudly in a taunt, and Talkeeva furrowed her brow, thinking quick as she let her pack slide off her shoulder, rattling her sword and shield as it fell to the ground.

"Fine."

The man nodded, putting his fists up, as did she. "Alright, fists only, and none of that magic stuff either. Let's go!"

He rushed towards her at full speed, rearing back as he readied a strong punch, but Talkeeva was swifter, grabbing the outstretched arm and spinning on her heels to fling him backwards. Rolff yelped as he was effortlessly slammed into the stone floor, his momentum used against him. The Argonian heard his raggedy friend gasp in surprise, pushing past her to help the man onto his feet.

"You're not so tough, s'wit," She replied with a cold hiss. "Now get out of here. Go and get some rest. You'll be sore for a few days."

The two men growled incoherently in response, making rude gestures towards the two women as they retreated into the western part of Windhelm. Sighing in relief, Talkeeva let her shoulders slacken, running a hand down her face as a light dusting of snow started to fall from the overcast sky. Turning around, she locked eyes with the Dunmer woman, who stood still in heavy thought. "Are you alright?"

"Talkeeva!" Another Argonian called out, and two heads turned to look at Derkeethus, clutching something to his chest as he slowed to a stop in front of his partner. "Here, I found the jeweler. He didn't find anything wrong with it, so he just gave it a quick polish."

He thrust out his hand, the fanciful white-and-gold ring sitting in his palm, and Talkeeva gulped as she glanced at the Dunmer out of the corner of her eye. She swiped the ring out of Derkeethus's grasp, jamming it onto her finger in a panic and chuckling nervously. "H-hey, c'mon, 'Keeth. I was talking to someone, heh..."

"Huh? Oh, er-" Derkeethus peered over his shoulder at Atheron, blinking as he noticed the Dunmer. "My apologies, ma'am."

"Now as I was saying," Talkeeva began, kneeling down as she looked for her pack. "Are you alright, miss Atheron?"

The Argonian felt a hand on her shoulder as something bumped her knee, and she raised her head, looking at the gently-smiling Dunmer. The woman held her pack out, and she gratefully slipped the leather strap over her back, an awkward silence following.

"...thank you, sera," Atheron muttered quietly before walking towards the Gray Quarter, leaving the two adventurers alone on the streets. Derkeethus watched her go, fidgeting in his leather cuirass as a few snowflakes melted on top of his nose.

"Who was that, Tal?" He asked, confused. "Did you know her?"

She let out a heavy wheeze, her heart pounding as she rubbed at the magic ring.

"Just someone who needed a little help," She answered, shaking her head as she gestured towards the inn, and the two made their way towards the building in the center of town. "Come on, let's get ourselves settled in. And remind me to get you some better armor while we're here."


A/N: Finals are almost over for the year and I'm feeling shameless. If you like Travels, please take a look at some of the other recent things I've written! I'd love to hear what you guys think of my other works.