Silence fell once Miraak finished his recapitulation of the dream that kept haunting him. What kind of a wisdom did he even expect? Everyone knew that there was no omen was ill as to dream of dying dragons. To see the mightiest creatures of Nirn defeated announced great sorrow and he knew that everyone avoided those marked with the ill dreams for they were doomed. Was he doomed? Maybe he just wanted to hear faithless words that told him otherwise. What a disgrace, a grown man who sought the comforting words of an old woman. The piercing stare of her amber eyes grew unbearable and he directed his gaze up at the frescoes above them. The Moth, the Wolf, the Serpent, the Owl, the Whale, the Dragon. Their Gods.

"I am no dreamreader, Miraak," Monah started after a long silence of intense thinking. He could still feel her eyes on him, critical and keen in a face that looked so old and weary. "If you are so convinced that this is a sign of the Gods... You will be travelling to Bromjunaar for the appointment of the next High Priest of Solstheim. I know you. You are absolutely certain that you will be chosen and I hold you no grudge for it. Appreciating yourself if of great value."

Miraak frowned. Why did she start about this? Why did she digress? He asked about a word of advice concerning his dreams and did not want to hear another sermon on hunility and confidence. Still, he listened reluctantly, even if only because he hoped that she might get back to the truly important matters.

The silence weighed down heavy on them and felt quite unbearable. "Do you truly believe that the Gods are telling you something or do you only convince yourself that this is the case because everyone else believes as well?" Monah studied him intently and Miraak felt increasingly uncomfortable under the intense stare of her savant eyes. Out of all possible things she could have said, such a question was the last reaction he had expected. He bit his lower lip in thought, always careful with every single word he spoke around his elders and superiors.

"Truth be told... I don't think so," he finally admitted. He was incredibly sanctimonious, displaying a religious passion and devotion that instilled admiration and approval in those around him. It came as a bitter surprise to realize that Monah might have seen past his mask and he wondered who else was aware of the fact that he often just said whatever he knew would please the others. "I... I think we all are masters of our own fate the moment we are born... until the day we bend our knee and decide to let others dictate our paths. Be it dreams... organizations... people... you know me well, Monah."
"Indeed, I do," she confirmed dryly. "I have lived long enough to be able to tell who is truly a man of faith and who has no real connection to the spiritual world, but I am in no place to judge you, Miraak."

When she rose, he reached out for her upper arm in case she might lose balance, though his help was not necessary. After some seconds of hesitation, he rose too and followed the old woman to the small room where she lived. An alchemical table, a bed, a bookshelf, a dresser. A curtain shielded away the entry into the small kitchen and dining room. As someone who always lived in great comfort, a lifestyle as minimalistic as hers seemed insufferable to him. He watched her browsing through the various small bottles that cluttered her shelf, flasks and jars and bowls with contents he couldn't name because he never showed any particular interest in alchemy.

"Three drops in a glass of water before you go to bed and your sleep will be dreamless," Monah declared as she handed him a small vial with dark liquid. Miraak eyed it not without some suspicion. "If you do not really believe in your dreams, they sure must be a terrible nuisance to you. Don't worry, my boy." Her wrinkled hand reached up to pat him on his head, she was barely tall enough for that. Something about her smile was terribly amused, maybe even smug in a very special superiority only old people could have: they had it all figured out already.

"Thank you," he said hesitantly and glanced down at the vial in his hands. Three drops each night. He should show it to one of the healers, just to be sure. Who knew how her eyesight was? His smile gave nothing away of these thoughts and Monah smiled brightly as well, revealing slightly yellowing teeth. "And now go, I am sure you have better things to do than wasting your time on chatter with an old woman."

"Oh you two are going to Bromjunaar and I envy you so much!" Words spoken with a laugh, a pout, hands put to small hips as the young woman eyed the two priests. "Why won't you take me with you? I won't bother anyone, promise." Vahlok's little sister pranced through the room from the window to the fireplace, intent on convincing the two men to take her with them. Miraak laughed lowly and shook his head as he folded another shirt into the chest he would take with him. His finest fur too, he wanted to look absolutely regal when his election was announced. Vahlok threw a brief glance to his sister. "Alina, you know that mother and father would never let you go."
"You could put me in a box or something. Oh brother!" The brown-haired girl whined in annoyance at their resilience. "Bromjunaar is like... the center of the world. Who knows whether I will ever get another chance? Do you want to let me waste away and go stale like an old potato on this frozen block of an island?" Alina crossed her arms in front of her chest and a sweet smile appeared on her face. "But brother. I want to be there when you become Highpriest!"

Miraak nearly laughed to himself when she tried to butter Vahlok up a little to allow her to accompany them on the travel ot Bromjunaar. Personally, he did not mind. She has grown very pretty in the past few years...

"It's sweet you believe in me so much." Vahlok sighed in defeat. "You know what? I will get you a pretty new dress just the way it's fashionable in Bronjunaar. Is that a deal?" Alina bit her lower lip, obviously debating on whether this was a good suggestion or not. Finally, she nodded and threw her slender arms around her brother's neck and pressed a wet kiss against his cheek. "Oh thank you! That's just what I need. The other girls will be so.. jealous!" She clapped her small hands and stepped closer to Miraak who was trying to decide between the white fur and the black fur.
"I wish you good luck too," she started with a slightly nervous smile, standing in front of the taller man. He smiled back at her and leaned forward, closer to her ear so his whispered words would be a little secret. "Are you really convinced Vahlok will be elected or are you just being supportive?"

This question caught her off-guard quite obviously and she blinked up at him in confusion. "How can I believe anything else?" She blushed and glanced down. Miraak knew that she was, in all maidenly naivety, no airheaded fool. "I feel like a terrible sister for saying this," she admitted with hushed tone, "... but I think you are the best."

Miraak smiled and leaned forward to put his lips to the white skin of her forehead under the watchful eye of her brother who was ever since wary whenever he was around any women old enough to fall into the category 'potential prey'. How offensive, to think his best friend could go for his little sister! "Pray for both of us," he said with his sanctimonious smile of serene enlightenment.

Alina nodded eagerly. "Of course. I will pray for calm seas and good wind in your sails. I will pray that the snow won't hinder your road and pray that you both return home safely, no matter who of you returns as Highpriest." In the mouth of anyone else, Miraak would have perceived these words as mere formal politeness, yet he was sure that she would indeed go and pray for their well-being, a gesture he had some amused appreciation for.

He would take the black fur.