The sound of bottles clinking together in a toast broke the nocturnal ambience. The stars above shone bright against the bottomless black sky. Somewhere far off, a nightingale sang into the dark, while a lone wolf, young and exiled from its old pack, wandered the ground beneath in pursuit of refuge from the cold. This bothered the youths none as they sat by the campfire, drinking and laughing and talking the evening away. Celebrations like these were few and far between, given the risks that come with their achievements. They had to make it count.

"So how did you figure out that thing with the statue? What even was it?" Saya asked, swirling the contents of her mug a bit before taking a swig. The alcohol burned the back of her throat pleasantly, like liquid warmth spreading inside of her. Shame it tasted like shit, though.

"Hmm? Oh, right, right." Onmund nodded, understanding what she meant after a moment. Despite how he looked, the boy could hold his alcohol fairly well. For the most part, it was the tiredness doing a number on him. "It was… let's see… 15 years ago that I first heard that poem," he said, taking a sip of mead. "It was from the Poetic Edda, an old collection of texts maintained by the bards of Skyrim. Our living history. It's where most of our knowledge about the First Era comes from. The kings and battles and-"

"Get to the point." Brelyna rolled her eyes. Elra shot a look in her direction and she shrugged. "What? We're all waiting for the good part. He's just dragging it out."

There was a brief pause before a collective sigh was released by just about everyone present. Onmund shook his head, taking another swig and chuckling quietly. "Anyway, the poem we saw - it was from one of the songs detailing the War of Succession. It was my favorite, when I was young. It went like…

'The sons of frost wage battle for the Crown of Storms

And blood as water flows 'tween our dominions vast

At last, day breaks upon the World's pale Throat

But stretches long the shadow that the sun has cast'

…or something like that." Onmund laughed awkwardly, once again drinking to avoid looking at everyone else. He felt oddly embarrassed to share the story now. Or perhaps, embarrassed at his own fascination with it. "Those were the words that Jarl Hanse spoke to his Shield-Thanes before leading his troops into battle. That was when Winterhold joined the War of Succession."

"Shadow, huh…" Saya hummed, thinking. Then a second later, she snapped her fingers. "Didn't you mention something about the shadow of-"

"The shadow of King Borgas, yes." Onmund nodded, finishing her sentence for her. "That's the name that the historians gave to the effects that Borgas' reign had on Skyrim, up to and even after his death. He made a lot of questionable decisions, but… well, judging by the statue, Hanse seemed to have respected him. Even in the verse, he laments the War."

J'zargo, who was lying on his side, grunted as he placed his bottle down. Then he propped up his head off the ground with his elbow and slurred: "What's that have to do with the puzzle?"

The Nord chuckled. "It's the statue. To open the door, we had to cast the literal shadow of King Borgas upon the door. You noticed the gems, didn't you?" He looked around, receiving a couple of hesitant nods from Saya and Elra. "The braziers were the key. If the room had too much light, all the gems would be lit up. That's why the gates on the sides were closed at the beginning - because when we came in, it was completely dark. But if you only lit up the front brazier, the one right in front of the statue of Borgas…"

"...then the statue would cast a shadow on one of the gems and the door would open," Saya finished for him. She chuckled. "The shadow of King Borgas."

"Mhm." Onmund nodded. "It was a guess, really. I'm… well, we're all lucky it worked out. So… yeah. That was the puzzle." The Nord's eyes slowly drifted downward as he spoke, over to the helmet lying by his feet. With a grunt, he leaned forward and picked it up off the ground, dusting off any dirt and placing it in his lap. A wry smile tugged at his lips. "I never would've imagined that Jarl Hanse would be a mage. It's true that the old Nords respected magic more, but still… a candidate to be High King, a mage. And so powerful, too…"

A quiet, strained cough interrupted his train of thought. Saya turned around, looking off to the side. There, a bit further away from the campfire, lay Serana in her bedroll. Her injury had already been mended even before they left the dungeon, courtesy of a potion that Saya gave her - or at least, she told everyone else it was a potion. Though she insisted she was fine, it was rather obvious to everyone involved that she was not particularly good at handling the pain that still lingered in her side, and so there was an unspoken agreement to just let her rest.

"Will she be okay?" Onmund asked for the umpteenth time this evening. At first, Saya thought that he was too much of a worrywart, asking about her well-being so frequently. It wasn't until a couple hours later that it sank in for her - this was his expedition, in the end. In a way, he was responsible for the lives of everyone who came with him. That was a weight she didn't envy.

"She's still asleep, probably just feeling parched." Saya's eyes lingered on Serana as she spoke. She looked paler than before. She managed to persuade everyone else that it's probably just blood loss and she'll be fine in a day or two, but a part of her was still anxious that they might be unconvinced. Saya took great care not to let anyone else see her without her scarf, or touch her in a way that'd give away her lack of body heat. One could call her paranoid. She called it being careful. "I left her some water earlier, she'll be fine." Saya finally turned around, flashing a confident smile on Serana's behalf. "She's sturdier than she looks."

Onmund smiled back, though not nearly as confident. His tired eyes betrayed his true, troubled state of mind. Those past few days felt like some of the longest in his life, but looking back at them now, they were one long blur. Like he just snapped his fingers and it all happened in a flash. And yet here he was, aching, bruised, tired, same as everyone else. And it felt like a dream, all of it - but he knew all of what happened was real. He couldn't tell if that knowledge made him relieved or not.

"So what part of…" J'zargo began, and was immediately and very rudely interrupted by a hiccup. Saya audibly giggled, while Brelyna hid a sardonic smile behind her drink. "What part of all this-" the Khajiit gestured at the barrow entrance, "-is your project?"

Onmund laughed, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "Well… The whole thing is, technically. It's a historical site, I think the College would have an interest in exploring everything it has to offer. But as far as proof of progress, I think these things will do fine." He nodded towards the twin axes lying by his bedroll and patted the helmet in his lap. "Who knows, maybe I'll even get to co-lead another expedition, or overlook the dig site…"

"You're getting ahead of yourself," Elra said. As always, her tone was very calm and even, almost unsettlingly so. Seeing Onmund's flustered reaction, her expression softened a bit and she smiled. "You still need to present the work to the College, and win against the rest of us."

"I didn't think you were the competitive type." Saya chuckled.

Elra turned towards her. "Growing up in the Reach is a competition of its own. You fall behind, you die." She shrugged. Though her smile didn't change, it seemed a little more ominous now. "It's as simple as that."

A somewhat awkward silence fell upon the camp, allowing the crackling of fire to fill the air once again. Multiple glances were exchanged, and then a series of giggles and chuckles erupted from each student before another round of drinks was had. The only one not to raise his bottle was Onmund, whose gaze once more came to rest on the helm in his hands. Elra's words might have been intended as lighthearted, but he couldn't resist a certain nasty thought taking root in the back of his mind.

"...I wonder if they'll accept it," he said quietly. His words were addressed to nobody in particular, and yet the laughter slowly subsided upon their leaving his lips as four pairs of eyes now looked towards him quizzically. "I mean… you all helped me so much. None of this would be possible if not for you." He lifted his head, looking at everyone's faces with a stiff lip. Their expressions all read pretty much the same: confusion, sympathy, a bit of pity. He sighed, averting his gaze once more. "I'm… I'm not sure I can call this my project anymore."

Brelyna was the first to speak up. "You could always share the money if you feel that bad about it," she said and took another hefty swig of wine. Her bottle was way past half-empty, though the dark glass concealed its contents fairly well.

A hearty chuckle came from the side opposite to her. "J'zargo likes that idea. Though, he hopes the cut is not determined by one's contributions. For your sake," the Khajiit added, all but purring. All but Brelyna chuckled at the jab, though Elra tried her best to conceal it. The alcohol was starting to get to her, too.

Brelyna herself, meanwhile, looked positively appalled. "As if you contributed any more than I did, cat. The three of us-" she nodded over at Onmund, "-were all doing research in the field, and I know for a fact I have a lead of at least ten pages' worth of notes on you."

"Yes-yes, of course, this one is sure they were very good and helpful notes." J'zargo waved her off, not even looking in her direction but instead gauging everyone's faces while wearing a grin of his own. It seems the audience was sitting on the verge of another snicker. "Reviewing them must be what kept you so preoccupied during the fight with the Jarl that you didn't even join until he was already dead, yes? Truly, it is a shame that you never got to show him your five paragraphs of scribbles on the pile of rusted coins you found. They were simply to die for." With that addition, the dam finally broke. The snickers and giggles soon exploded into full-blown laughter, and the Khajiit turned over onto his back, his eyes closed and his lips stretched into a self-satisfied grin.

Brelyna's hands closed around the fabric of her robes. Her foot began to tap on the ground involuntarily. Her ears twitched at their reactions, catching every noise. As J'zargo spoke, Brelyna's face changed little by little. Her smirk was the first thing to go, then her brows came together and her forehead wrinkled in indignation. Her mouth was tense, like a shakily drawn line that threatened to open as soon as the twitching lips lost even a bit of strength. She inhaled.

"You know what, you're right. Maybe it really shouldn't be based on contribution after all," Brelyna said. Her voice had a jovial quality to it, a sort of vigorous tone that contrasted with the icy look in her eye. J'zargo's smile vanished the moment he noticed that glare with which she regarded him. On the contrary, Brelyna herself took up an almost venomously pleasant smile. "If we were to do that, then poor Onmund would get next to nothing at all."

Once more, an awkward silence befell the camp, but the atmosphere felt much different. It was not the same awkwardness as from a joke that landed poorly, but more… tense. Like there was a wordless warning that now hung over everyone's heads. Saya glanced at Onmund, who went completely still. Only by a stroke of luck was his expression hidden by his hood. She didn't know if she even wanted to see what it looked like.

"Brelyna…" Elra's voice had a grim, warning tone to it. Her expression was mostly unchanged, as usual, but there was a dangerous gleam in her eye that made even Saya sink into her seat a little.

The Telvanni didn't even notice. "What? I mean, he said it himself, didn't he?" She shook her head, shrugging dismissively. Onmund's grip on the helmet got a little tighter. "It's not really his project. Sure, he found the place, and he helped solve a puzzle, but everyone else did the heavy lifting for him. If we didn't kill the shield-gobs or whatever they're called for him, he wouldn't even have an axe to swing in that fight."

"The fight that you spent gawking I might add," Saya said, leaning forward a bit and putting her bottle down. Her red eyes kept darting back and forth between Brelyna and Onmund. If the situation wasn't defused fast, it could turn into another fight, and she really didn't want to spoil the celebration. When that thought crossed her mind, the Dragonborn sighed wearily. What a waste of a perfect evening. "Look, the important thing is that we all made it out alive. I'm sorry if J'zargo's joke was inappropriate, but-"

"Joke?" Brelyna lowered her drink from her mouth only so she could laugh, and then proceeded to finish the wine before tossing the empty bottle into the darkness. Elra rolled her eyes and quietly stood up, wandering off to pick up the damn thing. "The only joke here is that we're pretending this has anything to do with magic. Absolutely anyone could've found the tomb and opened it, given enough time. And the difference? Sod all."

"What does that have to do with anything?" J'zargo groaned, turning over in his bed roll to face the fire - and by extension, Brelyna. She spat to the side, wrinkling her nose.

"You shut up, cat. You're the reason we're even talking about this." The Khajiit snarled and the inklings of a growl erupted from the back of his throat. Brelyna flipped him the bird in response.

Saya watched all this happen with an ugly feeling. She glanced over her shoulder to look at Serana. Thankfully, she was still sleeping, or at least she thought she was. She couldn't tell for sure without getting close enough to actually wake her up. Then she once again checked in with Onmund. His state was difficult to judge, given the hood and the angle. He was still holding that helmet in his head, wordlessly staring at it. The verbal spat between Brelyna and J'zargo was getting more heated, but he didn't seem to mind. It was as if he was in his own little personal bubble, not interacting with anyone except for himself.

Until his mouth opened for the first time in a few minutes and the only words that left it were: "Nobody invited you here."

With that single quiet sentence, the argument was over. Both J'zargo and Brelyna looked at Onmund, blinking as if they hadn't completely registered the words when he first said them. Saya sat there, wide eyed and mouth slightly agape in genuine shock. Onmund lifted his head, and his eyes were burning with cold anger from under the hood's shadow. Brelyna swallowed hard when she realized that anger was aimed at her.

"W-Well you say that now that everything is gone and done. And you know that I'm telling the truth." She huffed, though the defensiveness in her voice made it sound more like a nervous laugh. "If you went alone you would've just gotten yourself killed. Just because you're flying by the seat of your pants now doesn't mean it'll keep working out. You cast all of what, two spells in that entire time? You can't even defend yourself!"

"And since when is that your problem?" He barked, stepping closer to her. His hands had silently closed into fists and nobody even noticed until he was already standing right in front of her. "Well? Go on, tell me. I thought you liked speaking your mind! Clearly you understand everything so much better and know exactly what we should all be doing, except when it's your actions that could've gotten people killed-" he gestured at Serana, "-then you have nothing but excuses and deflections! So go on, tell me! What does the high and mighty Brelyna Maryon have to say for the rest of us mortals?!"

Brelyna bit her lip. Her expression was flashing between a face of shock and an aggravated scowl. Still, he stared at her with that look. That judgemental, obnoxious look that made her want to blind herself just so she didn't have to see it for a second longer. "You want to know what I think? Fine." She stood up, walking up to him. She was a full head shorter than he was, yet that didn't stop her from looking him straight in the eye with a red-eyed glare of her own. "I think that you're a nobody upstart who can't do anything by himself. I think you wanted an ego boost to make up for the fact that you're a worthless snow-farming simpleton incapable of the basest of basics, and you couldn't even manage that much without having others do the work for you. I think you don't deserve any of this, because you didn't earn any of it. And you know what?" She circled the center of his chest with her index finger. "I think you'd be doing everyone a favor if you took that little fairy tale helmet, pawned it off at the nearest booze shop, and got yourself a cart ride back to your mommy."

The moment she finished speaking, a sharp sound echoed throughout the camp. Brelyna stumbled back and fell to the ground. Where she felt nothing but a small sting before, a hot, lingering pain spread through her left cheek. Slowly, she lifted a shaking hand to touch her face, unwanted tears welling up in the corners of her eyes. She looked up at Onmund with eyes open wide in shock, her mouth already half-open to curse at him. But her breath got stuck in her throat before she could even form a word. Saya was already standing at his side, shaking him by the shoulder and asking him something she couldn't process with her ringing ears. He paid her no mind, either. He was only looking at Brelyna, lower lip trembling and face contorted with anger and sorrow and… pain.

Was… was he crying?

He pushed Saya aside and the next thing Brelyna knew, he was right in front of her again. He knelt down, grabbing her by the collar and lifting her off the ground so he could look her directly in the eye. "You…" He mouthed. His voice was shaking. He couldn't muster anything louder than a whisper. "You had no right…!"

And she said nothing. She said nothing even as Saya grabbed his arm and he turned to her, watching her shake her head with gentle reproach. She said nothing as he dropped her down into the mud and stood up, looking at his own reddened palm and then down at her. She said nothing as he closed his eyes and turned away from her, muttering something about taking the first watch and leaving her there. Silently and aimlessly, her gaze darted around the camp, met with nothing but the eyes of Saya and J'zargo who looked at her in a way she couldn't stand or even describe. And yet they, too, said nothing.

And when she saw Onmund's back grow farther and farther away, Brelyna called out "Onmund, I-" but never finished, stopped by a hand on her shoulder. She lifted her eyes and saw Elra staring back at her, her expression just as blank as the moment she left.

"You've said enough already," she said, and walked past her to extinguish the campfire, plunging the site into complete darkness.

Brelyna's lip was once more caught between her teeth and she tasted iron. Maybe she shouldn't say anything after all.

Morndas, the 15th of Evening Star, 4E201

Brelyna wasn't here when we woke up. Onmund said that he heard her closer to midnight. She was pretending to be asleep until everyone else drifted off, and then she packed up and left. Probably in the direction of the inn, he said. Didn't take a thing that didn't belong to her and her specifically.

We didn't talk much during breakfast. Onmund didn't want to talk about anything at all. I didn't think of him as anyone particularly aggressive, so I can only guess he's… not feeling great about last night. We packed up in silence, more or less. Not counting some small talk, mostly carried by myself and J'zargo. Or Serana and J'zargo. J'zargo is really talkative in general. Likes the sound of his voice, that one. It felt weird to hear him apologize. I think he felt responsible for what happened, even though pretty much everyone involved knew it was banter. Elra told him to save it for Brelyna, if he really wants to apologize to someone. That was the point where the conversation died down.

We arrived back at Winterhold in the early evening. The journey to the College was much faster than the journey from, and the weather was pretty nice to boot. We just sort of dispersed when we came back and everyone went off to do their separate things. Brelyna wasn't back yet, either. Seht knows where she is right now. Serana asked if we should go look, bless her. We did briefly discuss the possibility, but ultimately decided against it. The road to Winterhold isn't exactly known for bandits since there's fuck all to rob, nobody comes here and nobody's rich enough to leave.

I just decided to sit down and do some reading. And writing. Mostly writing. Wouldn't want Urag getting on my ass.

Fuck this, my hand hurts, I'm gonna go hang around in the lounge.

It was midday. The sky was cloudless, bright and blue. The sunshine was pleasantly warm, though it did little to melt the morning snow. It would've been the perfect weather for a walk.

Instead, four students were gathered on the third floor of their dormitory, sitting in nigh-complete silence broken only by the sound of turning pages. Saya was half-lying on the couch, head propped up by a cushion just large enough to comfortably read the book in her hands. As for everyone else, they were doing… whatever they were doing. She didn't really care to find out, seeing as how they were all just looking to kill the time.

Their wait ended as a resounding "I got it!" boomed from the room entrance, where Onmund stood. The lad had a massive grin plastered all over his face, soured only by the way he was panting. "The Master Wizard approved my project, I can enter the evaluation!"

A sigh of relief rolled across the lounge, lifting the invisible tension that hung over everyone's heads. Serana gave Onmund a gleeful applause. J'zargo echoed her gesture, though with less enthusiasm and a knowing smirk, as if mocking him for so much as doubting that everything would be fine. Saya watched the little exchange with a small smile, closing the book in her lap and placing it aside. Then, she promptly pulled up her legs, freeing up space on the couch for the Nord to sit down.

"Resting easy now, I take it?" She asked, tilting her head to look at him. Onmund gave a weak chuckle in response, still a little short of breath.

"For now, yeah. The presentation was supposed to be on this upcoming Sundas." He wiped the sweat off his forehead before leaning back into the couch cushions. He did not wear his hood today, leaving the head of thick chestnut-colored hair uncovered. "I don't know what had me more worried, the help I got from you guys or the time constraints."

Saya chuckled, shaking her head. "What should worry you is getting a cold, you tit. Look at this-" she reached out and ruffled his hair, "-what is this, hm? You wanna give your presentation with a stuffed nose?"

Onmund groaned. "What are you, Elra junior? N-No offense," he quickly sputtered in the Reachwoman's direction. Elra exhaled through her nose with a little more force than usual and went back to whatever it is she was doing. Some form of meditation? Saya didn't think to ask. Though she looked pretty cold sitting down there, on the floor.

Saya rolled her eyes. "Elra senior, if anything." She fell back down onto the couch with a grunt, sliding down a bit and turning over to her side. Today was slow. Annoyingly slow. Her eyes drifted to everyone's faces, happy on the surface but distracted with… a certain something. A thought in the back of everyone's minds, one that they all shared but nobody wanted to voice.

The entire room slowly returned to its lukewarm state of comfortable silence. Some have attempted small talk, but it died out about as soon as it started. At one point, Saya even tried to try and read her book again, short-lived as that desire was. She found herself occasionally throwing glances at Serana. That girl, unlike herself, was completely absorbed in whatever she was reading. She looked much better now, with her glamour intact. She'd even fixed up her own clothes with the string Saya bought. They still looked uncomfortably cold when outside, mind, but at least there was no gaping hole in her stomach now.

Saya flinched when Serana looked up from her book. Wondering if she were caught staring, she began cooking up some excuse or another, though quickly found it was unneeded as the vampire's gaze darted to the doorway. Her own red eyes followed soon, only to widen when she saw a new arrival come up a couple moments later. J'zargo turned next, then Onmund. Elra didn't react.

Neither did Brelyna herself. Her expression was completely unreadable, somewhere between neutral, tense, and completely uninterested. She scanned the lounge with a cold gaze and stepped inside, walking straight through the middle to the other side.

"Not even a hello?" Saya cocked an eyebrow, following the Telvanni's movements with her eyes. She was still wearing her cloak - evidently, she had just arrived at the College. There was even some snow on it. She must've been on the road since early in the morning.

Naturally, Brelyna did not respond. She only shot a glare in the Dragonborn's general direction and then continued on her way. The sounds of her shuffling about in the far end of the room filled the awkward silence after the non-confrontation, until there came a quiet "Aha" and she turned around with a book in hand. Then, she headed for the exit with the same quick steps with which she entered.

"Brelyna." A hand landed on her shoulder. J'zargo's grasp was light, but firm. The Telvanni first looked at the clawed hand, then at its owner, her expression unchanged. The Khajiit hesitated for a second before he spoke. "This one… J'zargo wanted to apologize. He did not mean to upset you as he did. We were worried about you."

Brelyna's gaze drifted over to the others in the room, and she found four pairs of eyes staring back at her with the same expression J'zargo was giving her. She regarded them for a few silent seconds, lingering on Onmund a little longer than the others. When she met his gaze, the corner of her mouth twitched, and her face warped into a grimace. She looked back at J'zargo and said in a low, almost hissing tone:

"Don't touch me, filth."

The flabbergasted Khajiit did not react when Brelyna jerked her shoulder out of his grasp. She took a few steps back, once again looking over the entire room with a glare that radiated disgust. Then, with a huff and a flap of her cloak, she turned around and left as quickly and abruptly as she first arrived.

J'zargo didn't move for a while longer. When he did, he stepped back and calmly sat down on the couch again, rubbing his forehead and releasing a long sigh. He lifted his eyes and saw that everyone's reactions more or less mirrored his own: Serana was looking at the ground with visible discomfort; Elra sat unmoving with her eyes closed, seemingly unbothered by the display; Onmund was rubbing his temples, muttering something unintelligible under his nose; Saya, meanwhile, was staring directly at J'zargo.

"That make you feel better?" She asked, though the genuinely sympathetic voice contrasted against her half-mocking words. J'zargo snorted, his frown turning into a wry, crooked smile.

"No. But this one had to try."

"It should've been me." J'zargo turned to the side as Onmund's words reached his ears. The Nord still refused to look up, his hands covering most of his face. "You shouldn't have been the one to apologize. I'm the one who hit her."

"And J'zargo is the one who started the argument," Elra spoke up, opening one eye. If she was displeased about interrupting her meditation, neither her face nor her voice showed it. "And Brelyna is the one who insulted you both. And the rest of us watched and laughed. Would you have us all apologize, then?"

Saya snorted. The mental image of everyone standing in a circle holding hands like children and telling each other they're sorry was quite entertaining. "Well… At least she's back here safe and sound, right?" She asked, gauging everyone's reactions by the amount of awkward smiles in the room. Sure, it was good to not be worried about one of them randomly kicking the bucket, but if this was going to be the alternative… She turned to Elra. "Has this kind of thing happened with her before?"

The Reachwoman closed her eyes. "No."

Saya blinked. "Oh. Okay. Then, uhh…" She scratched her chin in thought. Well that certainly complicated things. Without a point of reference, none of them had a way of knowing if Brelyna would stay grumpy for long. Or forever. Or how intense that grumpiness would be. Was she above trying to sabotage other people's works out of spite? Hmm… "In that case, I guess we could just wait it out. Maybe she'll cool off after a day or two?"

"I wouldn't count on it." Onmund sighed, finally sitting up straight. He looked ahead with a blank stare, not really meeting anyone's eye. "She's nothing if not stubborn."

Serana's expression fell upon hearing that and she began twiddling her thumbs nervously. "Should I ask her-?"

"No," Elra cut in once again, this time fully turning towards the others. Her tone was more stern this time. It sounded less like advice and more like a warning. "If this is what she wants to do, then let her. She's not a child. Let her learn from her mistakes."

The room fell into yet another awkward silence as Elra's words sank into everyone's minds. On some level, they were all in agreement - but that didn't mean they didn't have doubts or regrets. Saya wanted to sympathize with them, but all she really ended up doing was click her tongue and flip over onto her back again, opening her book. Yesterday, she might've offered some words of encouragement. Now, she was starting to find it increasingly more difficult to care given Brelyna's own lack of investment.

She sighed. "Well, the decision is up to you in the end. You've known her longer than the two of us." The Dragonborn put one leg on top of the other, using it as a support to not have to hold up her book with both hands. Then, when that proved uncomfortable, she scooched up a little to a sitting position instead of lying on her back. Yep, that's better. "And if you want my advice, I say don't let her stew in it too long. In a state like hers, it doesn't take much to convince yourself that everyone around you is an enemy. Especially if the only real enemy is right between your ears." J'zargo snorted at those words. "What's so funny?"

"This one didn't think you were the poetic type." He gave her another one of his patented crooked grins, relaxing in his seat. "Perhaps Urag's books are starting to get to you."

Onmund quietly chuckled. "You have been reading a lot. Anything interesting in there?" He nodded towards the book she was holding in her hands. It was a relatively small and unassuming hardback with a solid green cover. Didn't even have a visible title.

The Dragonborn glanced at him, quirking a bemused eyebrow. Onmund's smile briefly faltered when she dramatically cleared her throat and flipped over a page in search of an interesting-sounding passage. Then, with a most glorious rambling monotone, she began reading: "'Imagine living beneath the waves with a strong-sighted blessing of most excellent fabric. Holding the fabric over your gills, you would begin to breathe-drink its warp and weft. Though the plantmatter fibers imbue your soul, the wretched plankton would pollute the cloth until it stank to heavens of prophecy. This is one manner in which the Scrolls first came to pass, but are we the sea, or the breather, or the fabric? Or are we the breath itself?'"

She stopped at the end of the paragraph and lifted her eyes off the text. Immediately, she broke into laughter at Onmund's expression, which could best be described as 'mildly terrified'. Serana was staring at her, blinking in silent confusion. By contrast, J'zargo sat there completely unblinking, eyes narrowed and mouth slightly open as he struggled to process even half of the words she just said, much less what they actually meant. Elra didn't so much as turn in her direction.

"I…" Onmund sighed. "I know I'm the one who prompted this, but - and I can't stress this enough - I really, really regret asking."

Saya nodded sagely. "Me too, Onmund. Me too."

This "Ruminations" book is brain-melting. I can't decide if whoever wrote it was a madman or just a Bard's College graduate. Maybe both. With a name like "Septimus Signus", could easily be both. Even sounds like an alias.

Honestly, you couldn't pay me to read this in any other situation. The only reason I'm still at this is because it's literally the last book on the list that I was given. I've already read every other sane explanation and treatise I had, so all that's left is this. I wouldn't even be this annoyed if it was something I found on my own, but the fact that this was stored in the fuckmothering Arcaneum is… ugh. I'm gonna have to talk to Urag about this.

It's been a couple hours. I probably wouldn't have noticed if Serana didn't come in to check up on me again. Apparently, I skipped lunch. That would explain why my stomach has been practicing its best impression of a dragon fighting a whale for the past few minutes.

Brelyna didn't come, either. In fact, she hasn't shown up anywhere at all. She just locked herself in her room and refuses to talk to anyone. Though, maybe she's just sleeping off the traveling. I'd wager a Telvanni girl isn't all too used to sleeping in the wilderness, much less for three nights straight. Actually scratch that, she wasn't with us for the third night. Probably stayed at the inn then.

Well, whatever. Maybe she'll show up for dinner.

She didn't show up for dinner. She didn't show up to evening practice, either. Enthir told me he saw her enter her room and when he said hi, she just slammed the door in his face.

Peak behavior, Maryon.

I'll take another crack at the Ruminations and then probably go to bed. Wonder if I'll turn a little fishie in my dreams and swim through the fabric of time or whatever. Ugh. I hate that I even vaguely understand that sentence. Poor J'zargo was probably really confused why I was putting so much heat into my spells during sparring today, but how do you tell a person that excessive aggression is your primary coping mechanism and not make it weird?

On second thought, maybe it's best that I just go to sleep.

Tirdas, the 16th of Evening Star, 4E201

I woke up thinking about books. I went to sleep thinking about books. It's a blessing that I don't remember my dreams well - five drakes says I slept thinking about books, too.

Naturally, the first thing I did was rid my room of as many books as I could. I went straight to the Arcaneum and turned in everything that Urag gave me. Except the Ruminations, of course. I'm too stubborn to let that one go just yet. Also, I handed in all the translation shit that I've done so far. He just grunted when he saw it, but I think it was a good grunt. I think. I don't really care, I'm not redoing it either way.

Also, I met Brelyna in the library. She was studying, though I didn't quite catch what she was reading. I tried to make some small talk, she told me to sod off, I told her to shove that book up hers. Very productive conversation. Urag kicked us both out for disruptive behavior.

Well, whatever. It was only like half an hour before class anyway, not like I planned to spend much more time in the library.

Bitch.

Take a wild guess who skipped class. Just one. If you need any more than that, you might want to visit your nearest healer and check for brain damage.

So much for her bravado about "taking her studies seriously" - she should've seen the look in Tolfdir's eye when we had to explain why she wasn't present. Bet that would keep her up at night, though that's assuming she still has a conscience. Very generous assumption these days.

The training went well, at least. I can't quite pull off a proper Lava Whip, but I can at least make "lava" on a somewhat consistent basis. If I get the hang of it, this might be even better than my usual projectiles. Though I can't help but wonder if I could try to do this with a Shout. Hmm…

I'm starving. Well, actually all of us are starving. Elra is doing something about it, bless her soul. Apparently, it was Brelyna's turn to cook today and, well, you can guess what happened. To make it better, one of the plates was still a bit wet from being washed. So not only did the little twat just leave everyone hanging, she took the time to make something for herself and HERSELF ALONE, eat, wash the dishes, and then fuck off. And here we are.

I'd bitch some more but I don't have the energy. I feel like a used rag. Guess I'll go see if the others need any help. I'm not going to bed hungry, and I'm definitely not wasting another night on reading the fucking Ruminations.

Middas, the 17th of Evening Star, 4E201

Yol.

The word hung vivid in Saya's mind, a flickering flame amidst an empty mindscape. Moving, growing, breathing. She felt the little plume, felt it, tasted it in her soul. She wrapped herself around it like flowing cloth, silken folds concealing brilliant light. But what if she turned inside out? Would the flame wrap around her instead? Would it flow like she did, liquid and free? Or would it evaporate like smoke, caught by a wind that comes from nowhere and carried away?

Could she command it to stay?

"Uh, excuse me?"

Saya's face dropped. She was hoping for a quiet afternoon meditation, nice and cozy in her room. She had a good run, too - a full ten uninterrupted minutes of pure tranquility. She sighed. No. Whoever that is, he could go be someone else's problem. She would just keep her eyes closed and take a deep breath, ease herself into the proper state of mind-

"Is there a… S-Seya Indoril here? Hello?"

Motherfucker. The Dragonborn exhaled sharply through her nostrils. Somehow, she got the sneaking suspicion that the moment the universe heard her ask for a moment of quiet, the spiteful bitch sent all the trouble in the world her way just to have a laugh. Mix in a dragon crashing into her window right about now and her day would be just perfect… One, two… nope, no dragon. Oh well.

Saya's bed released a displeased creak as its owner rolled off the side and stood up on her own two feet before shuffling over to the door. Her eyes narrowed involuntarily from how brightly lit the hall was compared to her room, but quickly adjusted. She saw a pale young man standing in the middle of the hall, looking around impatiently. He was shivering despite the thick, snow-sprinkled furs he wore. In his hands she spotted a small envelope with a wax seal, though she couldn't see what it actually was from a distance.

The man's eyes lit up when he saw her. "Oh! Excuse me, you wouldn't happen to be-"

"Saya. As in, sigh-ah." She did her best not to give the poor courier a death glare. She never thought that her name's spelling could be considered unintuitive until she started interacting with people outside of her immediate circle of acquaintances. She nodded towards the envelope. "I'm guessing that's for me?"

"M-My apologies." Now that she looked a bit more attentively, maybe the man wasn't stuttering because of nerves but because of the cold. He stretched out a shaking arm and she took the sealed envelope from it. "A l-letter from Whiterun. Y-Your hands only."

"Thanks. Wait here." Saya quickly stepped back into her room, coming back without the letter and with a handful of coins. She placed the gold in his hand and patted the courier on the shoulder sympathetically. "Here, grab yourself something hot at the tavern. And thanks again."

The man muttered a quiet "thank you" and pocketed the money before turning around and leaving the Hall of Attainment with haste. Saya waited until he was outside before she returned to her room and sat down at her desk to inspect the delivery more closely. The wax seal bearing Whiterun's crest broke without much effort, and the folded letter fell out soon after. She chuckled - leave it to Balgruuf to use filigree-bordered paper for a private message. It read:

Saya,

It has been a couple of weeks since you last visited Whiterun. I hope this letter finds you safe and sound, and that your adventures are going well, wherever you are.

The month is coming to a close soon, and all of Whiterun is preparing to celebrate the year's end. If you have the time, I'd like to invite you to celebrate the Old Life Festival with us at Dragonsreach. I'm sure you could use the time off, and I think the people would be happy to see you.

Balgruuf

No titles and no honorifics, huh? I was only half-joking about this being a personal letter, you know. Saya snickered, putting the letter down. Old Life… wasn't that an Imperial holiday? She has heard of it before, though the details were blurry. Every culture in Tamriel had their own traditions for celebrating the end of a year, and Morrowind wasn't exactly keen on all things Cyrodiil after the Crisis. Maybe she could ask someone later. A break right about now sounded wonderful.

Her ear twitched as the door into her room creaked. She already knew who it was, but she turned around anyway to give them a wave. Serana returned the greeting with a sheepish smile. "May I come in?"

Saya nodded, shifting around in the chair to face Serana properly. She kept the letter in a loose hold in her left hand while propping up her head against the chair's back with her right. "I take it you heard the courier?"

The vampire gave a tired, almost absent-minded nod and kicked off her boots before lying down on Saya's bed. It was still relatively early, and Tolfdir's lectures weren't exhausting enough to warrant the state she was in. Saya filed away that observation for later. "Do you have friends in Whiterun?"

"Something like that." Saya laughed quietly. Could she call Jarl Balgruuf a friend? He was an acquaintance for sure, maybe an ally. But a friend? That felt like too personal a term to use, considering how infrequently they met. Sometimes, she'd get the suspicious thought that he might not even like her that much, and instead was only using her for publicity. She couldn't really judge him if he was. "It's from the Jarl. I did him a solid back when this whole dragon business started. We're on good terms."

"You're friends with a Jarl?" Serana echoed, surprised. The Dragonborn just awkwardly rubbed her neck instead of responding. Once the initial surprise had passed, the vampire turned her eyes upwards to the ceiling, humming in thought. "So… does that mean we have to leave soon? Does he need your help?"

"Nah, it's not urgent. Just inviting me over for the holidays." Saya waved her off. Now that felt weird to say. Personally invited over for holidays by the Jarl. Maybe being Dragonborn had some perks to it after all. "Do you wanna come?"

"Pardon?"

"To Whiterun." Saya cocked her head, resting it on the back of the chair. The utter bewilderment with which Serana was looking at her brought a tiny smile to her face. "You probably haven't been there for a while, right? What say we go there when the College business is done?"

"Oh." Serana moved higher up on the bed, sitting up. Then, in an all-too-familiar gesture, she interlaced her fingers and began twiddling her thumbs. "I've… never actually been to Whiterun. Our family did not travel much outside of our family's holdings, except for my father. What is it like?"

"Hmm…" What was Whiterun like? Whenever she thought of it, she couldn't really imagine much other than the insides of Breezehome or Dragonsreach. "Well for starters, it's really big. I know they used to call it Skyrim's trading capital, but I don't know how much that holds up. About half of the city is dedicated to stalls, markets, little home stores and such. Then in the upper district is the main residential area, the Skyforge, a couple of temples to the Divines… oh, and the Gildergreen. Very big tree. Some say it's sacred, others say it's just there to be pretty. And then there's the Cloud District, comprising Dragonsreach and its immediate surroundings - so just the dungeons and the palace, for the most part."

"I think I've heard of it," Serana pitched in. "There was a legend that I read about King Olaf who trapped a dragon in his palace. The fame for his battle was what got him crowned as High King. I've always wondered if that story is true."

Saya snickered. "Well, it's definitely big enough. I think there's also a dragon skull above the throne, though I never really thought to ask if it's real or not." She sighed and glanced back at the letter. Maybe she should write a response. But then, what if something comes up and she can't make it there? Decisions, decisions… "It's not a long journey. It's about two days' travel without horses, provided the weather is good. What do you say?" Serana lowered her eyes, as if trying to physically avoid the question. She did her best to keep her expression blank but the hesitation still showed in her features. It was like she was fighting not to say yes. The Dragonborn sighed. "You know you can just tell me if you don't want to go, right?"

Serana frowned. "It's not that I don't want to, just…" She pursed her lips, her gaze drifting over to the door. She stared at it in silence for a few seconds before she continued. "I don't think I want to leave just yet. Everyone has been working very hard." She turned back to Saya. "I want to stay at least for a while longer, until I know that everything turns out okay for them. For Elra, for J'zargo, for Onmund, and…"

There was a pause. Saya's smile slowly vanished as she watched Serana's enthusiasm leave her face, one again replaced by that same tired expression that she wore when she first entered the room. The Dragonborn nodded to herself. So that's what this is all about. With a grunt, she got off the chair and stepped over to the bed. She placed her hand on it, as if wordlessly asking for permission to intrude her personal bubble. Serana scooched over a bit to the side, making room for the Dragonborn who then sat next to her.

"Did you try talking to Brelyna again?" She asked quietly. Serana nodded. Of course she did. "When?"

"Today, just after class," Serana said. "I couldn't… I couldn't smell her anywhere. She hasn't gone outside her room since yesterday evening. I was worried." The vampire pulled her legs up as she spoke, hugging her knees and curling up where she sat. "I offered her something to eat, but she… told me to go away." Saya could hazard a guess at Brelyna's choice of words, given Serana's reaction. She had to fight hard to keep her expression calm. Deep breaths. She counted to ten internally, then slowly exhaled. She could get angry later, but now wasn't the time.

"Then… tell you what, when I'm finished up with my own stuff - I'll go and talk to her myself. After that, we'll stay until the Sundas presentation, and then we'll go. Okay?" Serana lifted her hands to see the Dragonborn sitting a little closer now, giving her a reassuring smile and opening her arms. The vampire replied with a wry smile of her own and leaned into it, letting Saya hold her in a brief, warm hug.

"Okay. Thank you." She mumbled into her shoulder. Saya did not respond, and instead slightly tightened her hold.

I miss Breezehome. I really don't spend enough time there. Maybe I should hire a housekeeper, the place must be a mess. I don't think I've cleaned there since Frostfall. At least there's no risk of infestation, since there's never food in the house. Would be funny if someone broke in only to find a bunch of miscellaneous shit that I never managed to sell. I don't think there's anyone in Whiterun desperate enough to steal that trash.

I asked around about Old Life later. Onmund said it's an old tradition started by the northern people of Tamriel - so Nords, Bretons, Reachfolk and so on. It's celebrated by gathering together, telling stories, and generally reminiscing on the past. Some people make pilgrimages to secluded shrines and write letters to the dead before burning them to send them to the afterlife. Some even reportedly see ghosts of loved ones at those shrines.

I'm… not sure how I feel about the invitation now. Hrongar and I didn't part on bad terms, but… There's a part of me that is still a bit scared of him. I mean, the man is a walking mountain. I'd be an idiot not to be at least a little afraid. But… I don't know if I'd like to see him getting drunk and crying over Lydia.

I can do that well enough on my own.

Turdas, the 18th of Evening Star, 4E201

Well… Sundas is three days away, so I might as well start getting ready. I read through all of my notes on the Ruminations in the morning, organized them with all the other stuff I found on the Elder Scrolls in general. I would be lying if I said I wasn't warned, but it's… really sad to see how little information there is on them. Well, whatever. Can't fault me for not trying, guess we'll just have to look elsewhere. Maybe Isran had better luck with the Moth Priest.

Fuck, who knows. Maybe Farengar will be useful for once.

"Back again? I already told you there's nothing more I can give you on the Elder Scrolls."

Saya ignored the not-greeting, already used to the gruff voice of the librarian. Urag gro-Shub was an intimidating figure to behold and he knew it, relished it even. He was an Orc that looked, sounded, and above all - was really damn old, sporting a grey beard that reached midway down his stomach and a small bun of hair on the back of a balding head. The long gold-colored robes looked almost too sophisticated for his wrinkled visage, two amber eyes peeking out from beneath bushy eyebrows that made it look like he was always scowling, even without taking his permanently protruding tusks into account.

That said, Saya was not really in a mood to be intimidated - courtesy of the little green tome in her hands. "I know. I have ears." She sighed, closing the door behind her as she stepped into the library. It was late enough in the evening that she and Urag were the only people present, though it's not like Urag ever left the library to her knowledge. Probably sleeps under the desk or something. "I'm here because of this."

As much as the Dragonborn would like to throw the object of her ire onto the counter, she still had enough fear of gods and adjacent entities to not take her anger out on a book in front of a librarian. Urag didn't even have to open it to know what this was and who it was written by. "The Ruminations, hm? You don't look very happy with what you got."

"A fucking pain in the ass is what I got," Saya whined, sitting down and all but crashing face-first into the wooden counter. She heard Urag grunt in response and rubbed her temples. No sympathy to be found here. "It's incomprehensible. I know there's something in there but I feel like to understand it I either need two more brains or one less."

At that, Urag smiled. A terrifying sight, more or less what one would expect from an Orc of his size and age. "Aye, that's the work of Septimus Signus for you. The old fool couldn't write a sentence without metaphor if he scraped it off his foot."

"...sounds about right." Saya lifted her head up, looking at Urag curiously. "So you knew this Septimus, then?"

Urag cocked an eyebrow at her, not responding immediately. Then, he picked up the book and knelt down to a shelf directly behind himself, putting it back in its place. "Hmph. 'Knew'." He scoffed, shaking his head. The librarian turned around and fished out a small bottle and tankard from under his desk, placing both of them onto the counter. The cork was removed with a quick 'pop' and a dark liquid gushed out into the metal mug, filling it to the brim. Saya wrinkled her nose. Some kind of beer, from what she could tell. "He came to me once just like you did, looking to learn everything he could about the Elder Scrolls. Studied them almost religiously, devoured every book I had on hand, even traveled to the White-Gold Tower once to talk with the Ancestor Moth cult. He's the world's master on the nature of the Elder Scrolls… for all the good it did him." Urag lifted the tankard, chugging the contents in one fell swoop before placing it down onto the counter and wiping his mouth. "Sometimes I miss the madman. You don't see his kind often anymore."

Saya's brows furrowed. "Did he… y'know?" She drew a thumb across her neck.

"Wha? Oh, no. At least I hope not." Urag almost recoiled a bit at the notion. After a moment of consideration, he started pouring himself another tankard. "I haven't seen him in years. His research… took him places. I warned him to be careful, but… Agh, no use complaining about it now. He would've taken off sooner or later."

"Taken off?" Saya's ears twitched and she leaned forward. Septimus' writing might have been a mess, but if he really was the master Urag painted him as, then maybe he could be a solid lead for her… "Where to? Do you know?"

Urag glanced at her before moving up the tankard to his mouth. He drank with a little less enthusiasm this time, only downing half of it. "North. Somewhere in the ice fields, I reckon. Said he found some kind of Dwemer artifact, took off that same week. I haven't heard from him since." Urag sighed and finished his drink, placing the tankard down onto the counter. He was quiet for a moment. "He got too curious for his own good. I told him that better men have gone mad trying to find out the contents of the Elder Scrolls, but he would hear none of it. In his final years here, he became obsessed with the Dwemer. Started looking into old stories and legends for even the smallest crumbs. I don't know what he read or where, but… he changed." He lifted his eyes to look at her. "I'd be careful if I were you. Don't want the Dragonborn becoming another corpse at the bottom of the Sea of Ghosts."

"Sure, you don't." Saya rolled her eyes, chuckling half-heartedly in an attempt to lighten the mood. She got up from her seat - or rather got down, hopping off the stool that was frankly too tall for her liking. "I'll tell him you said hi."

Urag chuckled - actually chuckled - at those words. Then the moment she turned around his expression fell again, a tired grimace. It has been a while since he thought about Septimus. He couldn't help but wonder if he would even recognize the Orc after all this time. Not even a letter…

Then a thought crossed his mind and he called out. "Oh, and before you leave." She turned around, already one foot out of the library. "That Brelyna girl came here a couple hours ago. Turned in every book she borrowed during her time here. Tried to buy some for herself, permanently. I thought you'd want to know."

Saya stood in silence for a few moments, processing his words. "Thanks," she said and exited the library. The door closed behind her a little louder than intended.

Septimus, Septimus, Septimus. Northern ice fields… Well, that's a stick in the mud. There go all of my plans, so much for Old Life in Whiterun. The weather is already pretty shit up here, and if we delay this until after the holidays then I might as well get naked and jump into the sea right now, save myself the trouble.

I'll have to talk to Serana about it tomorrow, figure out what we're going to do. I have a few ideas already.

But before that, I believe I left a certain promise unfulfilled.

Knock-knock-knock.

"Fuck off."

Off to a great start. Saya did her best not to sigh loud enough to wake up half the dormitory. It seemed like she had only just returned from the Arcaneum, yet in the hour it took her to sort out her thoughts the sun had completely hidden behind the horizon, leaving only the darkness outside and the howling winds to keep it company. Everyone had already retreated to their rooms, finishing up their studies or relaxing before a good night's rest.

Tying up loose ends, so to speak. This was no different.

"Rude and uncalled for." The mock hurt in the Dragonborn's voice was palpable. She heard a heavy sigh from the other side of the door. "I thought knocking was the polite thing to do, no?"

"Why did you come here?" Brelyna didn't share the Dragonborn's reservations. She spoke well above conversation volume, every word practically soaked in hostility. "Actually don't answer, I don't have time for this horseshit."

Okay, now she sighed. It seemed that she needed to be more direct. "What, too busy packing?" There was a brief silence, followed by the muffled sound of a creaking bed. The sound of progress. "Come on, open up. It's cold out here."

"The College has runes to ward against that, you s'wit." The voice was a bit closer than last time, clearer. You could practically hear her snarl even through the solid two inches of door between them. "You didn't answer my question. Why did you come here? To annoy me?"

"I was trying to answer before you so courteously told me you had no time. Though, you demonstrably have enough of it to lecture me on the building's defenses." Saya leaned on the nearby wall. She was midway into her eye roll when she realized Brelyna wouldn't see it. "I wanted to talk. In private. And my room's occupied at the moment, so I'd be very thankful if you would let me in, pretty please."

"And why the hell would I do that?"

"Because this conversation is for your sake, not mine. Also, I can pick locks, so either way this door is coming open." She turned towards the door, knocking on it for emphasis. "Whether that's happening right now or in two minutes is up to you."

A few long seconds passed before Saya heard any movement on the other side. She even briefly contemplated going back to her room and getting the lockpicks for real. Fortunately, such drastic measures were not needed. Her ears twitched as a couple of clicks came from the wooden door and it slowly opened with a pained creak that, as far as Saya was concerned, might as well have been an innate security measure installed into every bloody door in the College. She met Brelyna's red eyes just as the Telvanni peeked outside, as if to check if Saya was actually still here or if that entire ordeal really was just to annoy her. Upon spotting the Dragonborn, she quietly cursed and opened the door a little wider to let her in.

Saya was met with a dimly lit room that, for the most part, looked rather standard-issue. The furniture was arranged the same way as in her own quarters, and there were little to no decorations. The thing that immediately caught her eye was the clothing scattered around the place, some of it neatly folded while the rest lay haphazardly on various items of furniture. A large backpack rested on the floor, the kind people took with them for long journeys.

"There. Happy?" Saya turned to her right and saw Brelyna with her arms crossed, tapping her foot nervously on the floor. From the looks of it, she really did not want to be seen by anyone: from the dull, colorless cotton shirt she wore, to the pants that looked half a size too big on her, to even the way her usually fancy and carefully styled hair was gathered into a messy bun with her bangs gracelessly hanging down by her cheekbones - every aspect of her appearance communicated that she was not expecting visitors. "Now, what the hell do you want?"

Saya gave her another once-over and exhaled sharply, subduing a chuckle. "Already put away the good-looking stuff?" She said in a sing-song voice while looking around for a place to sit.

Brelyna's face morphed into a scowl as she slammed the door shut. "Fuck. You."

Saya half-turned, quirking an amused eyebrow. "Y'know, usually I'd go for a nice dinner or a couple of drinks first. But I'm willing to lower my standards, if you insist." The Dragonborn sat down on a nearby chair, quietly chuckling at the Telvanni's exaggerated groan. "You should sit."

She rolled her eyes, annoyed. "Why?"

"I told you, didn't I? I'm here to talk. I can't trust you to listen to what I have to say if you're not sitting down." The smile stayed on Saya's face while she talked, but the tone of her voice changed considerably. She spoke with a certain gentleness now, still lighthearted enough to be approachable but without the venomous humor lining every word. Brelyna hesitated for a second before conceding, moving over to the bed and sitting down on the thick blankets. Saya smiled. "Thank you."

A heavy silence fell upon the room. Brelyna's eyes darted back and forth between the candle on her desk and the chair in which Saya was sitting. The Dragonborn was watching her, almost expectantly. Or perhaps, she was judging how tense the atmosphere was, and figuring out how best to approach the mammoth in the room.

"So," the Dragonborn began, "how are you feeling?"

Brelyna blinked, caught off guard by the innocent-sounding question. But she quickly regained her composure, clearing her throat. "I'm perfectly fine. And why do you care?"

"Because you've been avoiding everyone for almost four days," she said matter-of-factly and propped up her elbow on the table, resting her head within her palm. "You've been ditching class, skipping meals, you won't talk to anyone. We're worried, y'know?"

The mage stared at her with narrowed eyes, looking for even the slightest hint of mockery in Saya's smile. When the search proved fruitless, she sighed. "Is that what this is all about? Have you come to try and guilt-trip me into getting all buddy-buddy with all of you again?"

"Why are you getting defensive? All I said is that we're worried."

"Because you're lying," Brelyna hissed. "I've already heard this and I'm not going to continue this charade. You've already made it clear what you think of me, and I told you loud and clear what I think of each and every one of you. So don't pretend like we're peers." The Telvanni didn't even notice herself leaning forward as she spoke. When her mind caught up with what her body was doing, she promptly sat back down, rubbing the bridge of her nose. "This is pointless. Just leave me alone."

"What's your plan, then?" Saya cut in almost immediately, earning a glare in her direction from Brelyna. Her expression remained neutral, her eyes half-closed but watching Brelyna very attentively. Almost unnervingly so. "Suppose I get up right now and leave. What happens? You pack your bags and go back for Tel Whateverthefuck? Run away from this whole mess and forget all your friends after half-assedly burning the bridges?"

"Friends? Ha!" Brelyna scoffed, her mouth stretching into a wicked smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. She probably didn't even realize that she straightened out her back, making herself look taller and more authoritative than she really was. "I told you already, we're not peers. Just because this College's idiotic curriculum forced me into a group of imbeciles that I had to live with and tolerate doesn't mean we were ever equals." She spoke in a cold, harsh tone. It was almost funny to listen to. Almost.

"You think you're better than them." Saya looked at her curiously.

"I am better," she corrected, looking down at the Dragonborn with her nose upturned. "I've been trained by my family since the moment I could walk. The Maryons have had a magister seat on the Telvanni council for centuries. Magic is in our blood, and I've worked harder than anyone here to bring out my potential." Saya couldn't help but laugh at her words and Brelyna's self-confident smile vanished from her face immediately. "What's so funny?"

"How do you know that?" Brelyna blinked, her momentum coming to a grinding halt. A knowing smile spread across Saya's features, not without a hint of smugness. "You sound pretty sure of yourself, so you must have a reason for it. How do you know that everyone else didn't work just as hard, or even harder than you, to get where they are?"

"W-Well, that's…" Brelyna stammered, looking at once insulted and distressed at her lack of an immediate comeback. Her brows furrowed and her eyes snapped to Saya. "I don't know what you think you are implying, mutt," she put extra emphasis on the word, though Saya didn't seem to react to the name-calling in any way, "but you seem to have forgotten that I'm a member of the Great House Telvanni. My uncle is a Magister, and-"

"And I'm a member of 'Great House' Indoril. By birth, just like you." Saya moved her arm away from her face, looking at Brelyna directly. Contrasting against the fiery gleam in Brelyna's eyes, Saya's own looked cold, almost indifferent. "If my mother's occupation alone decided everything, I would've been a priest in some small temple, living off donations and praying to the Reclamations twenty-four hours a day. Yet here I am." She gestured at herself for emphasis. "So… what is it about your 'birthright' that makes you think you're so much better than everyone else?"

Brelyna stood up from the bed with a creak, stomping over to Saya. She was positively fuming, her face a twisted grimace unlike anything she looked like normally. "If you think you can insult my family, then you're in for a fucking revelation. I don't know who you think you are, but I won't just sit here and listen to you dragging our names through the mud you crawled out of!"

"And when have I done that?" Saya lifted her gaze to look the Telvanni before her in the eye. Whatever words Brelyna was going to say got stuck in her throat. "Never once did I insult you or any of your family members in this whole time. All I said is that the gut you crawled out of gives you no right to treat everyone around you like trash. And you know what?" She smiled again. A tiny, thin smile that made Brelyna's stomach flip. "I think it's pretty telling that you took that as an insult. Projecting much?"

She visibly recoiled at the statement. "W-What?"

Saya's smile grew wider. Brelyna felt a sudden urge to vomit creep up at the back of her throat. "But nevermind that, let's suppose you do go back to your parents. What excuse will you give them, hm?" The Dragonborn cocked her head quizzically. "Will you say that the teachers weren't good enough for you, even though your parents know full well what the standards here are? Or maybe, you'll tell them it was too much for you, and say you couldn't handle the harsh coaching of… what was it, 'snow-farming simpletons'?" She tented her fingers, looking Brelyna right in the eye as she spoke. "Because let's face it: you'd never admit that the reason you left is because you got into a fight with your classmates and decided to throw a hissy fit. That's not really proper behavior for a noble lady retainer like yourself, is it?"

Brelyna sputtered incoherently, as if she couldn't find the right words to even begin to rebuke what Saya had just said. Her expression kept flashing between indignation, outrage, and pure shock. "Wh- Why you...!" She didn't notice herself taking a step back. Saya did. "W-Who the hell are you to lecture me?! You don't know the first thing about me! You're just… just some mongrel dog from the gutters!" The Telvanni shouted, pointing at the Dragonborn accusingly. Saya looked back at her with an expression of so little care that it made her blood boil. "You're nothing! Less than nothing! Flaunting around your mother's surname like she's not some nobody whore that settled for a man-pig because no decent elf would even look her way!"

The way Saya's smile instantly vanished made Brelyna freeze up. In an instant, the same kind of feeling washed over her as when she last talked to Onmund at the camp. Suddenly, she became very painfully aware of her inability to take back her words the same way she drew a shallow breath. Tongue-tied, she watched the way Saya looked at her, half of her expecting the Dragonborn to punch her while the other half wondered if she was going to cry. Yet, Saya actually did neither of those things.

"A decent elf, huh…" She muttered in a low voice, as if talking to herself. She lifted her eyes, looking at Brelyna with an expression she couldn't understand. The only word Brelyna could use to describe her look was 'intense'. "If that's all you're good for, then I pity you."

Wait, what?

Brelyna must've reacted visibly in some way, because Saya quietly chuckled right as she thought that. "Weren't you the one who said I don't know anything about you or your family? And then here you are, in the same position as I am, but perfectly content with smearing the name of a woman you don't even know." She stood up, and Brelyna visibly flinched from the way Saya kicked the chair away and stepped towards hers. "And what does your insult even mean, really? Why don't we break it down, hmm?"

Brelyna felt herself sink in her own shoes as Saya approached her. "W-What are you talking about?"

"Let's see… You didn't care to know who my mother was, what she could do, where she was from, what she had accomplished in life. The only thing that mattered to you was who she slept with, because it wasn't a good look for the House." Saya spoke slowly and deliberately, practically tasting each word in her mouth before it left her lips. Brelyna felt cold sweat run down her back. "Her own life and happiness are irrelevant from your standpoint. She's already damned and worthless just because she didn't become a trophy wife to some boot-licking House bureaucrat whose only virtue is that his own mother sold herself the very same way."

Brelyna swallowed nervously. "That's not-"

"Not what you meant?" Saya tilted her head quizzically. Instinctively, Brelyna backed away in the opposite direction. "Then why do you cling to your House like it's the solution to every problem? What imaginary pedestal do you think it puts you on? What was the word… ah, right. Why do you flaunt your parents' surname as if it's something you earned? What are you, without it?"

In that singular moment, their eyes met again. Saya's, cold and calculating. Brelyna's, wide open and full of animosity. The Telvanni drew a shaky breath, her fingers curling into fists as she spoke. "Y-You don't know what you're talking about. If I were you, I'd just shut up and-"

"Then shut up and listen," she hissed and took yet another step closer. Brelyna felt her back pressed up against the door and her breathing speeding up, her own heartbeat drumming in her ears. Saya was looking directly at the Telvanni, all but peering into her soul with that glassy stare of hers. "You're a mage in a family of mages, and not even a particularly good one. You're as remarkable as a grain of sand in a desert. Going off hard work alone, J'zargo is probably closer to being a magister than you are." She spoke quietly, the rasp in her voice only making her sound more intimidating. "But not all Telvanni are mages, right? So let's talk politics, connections. Except you've got none back home that don't rely on mommy and daddy, and you just spent the past four days shitting in the mouth of everyone you could remotely call a friend outside of Morrowind."

Brelyna bit her lip. Saya's face was mere inches away from her now. That low, raspy monotone was so close to her ears that it felt like she was speaking from the inside of Brelyna's own skull. Close enough to hear her thoughts. Loud enough to drown them out. She felt her own eyes begin to burn and her bottom lip ached from the force with which she was biting into it. And all the while, Saya was staring her down, half a head shorter than her yet making Brelyna feel so small she was almost scared she'd disappear.

And then, like nothing happened, Saya turned right around. "So, that about covers everything you have going for yourself. Now, let's look at that 'decent elf' front, shall we?" As she spoke, the bone-chilling cold in her voice was gone without a trace, replaced by a saccharine cheerfulness that made the air feel foul. Brelyna felt sick just breathing it in. "From what I know, you don't exactly have the Imperial treasury hidden somewhere in your room, so there goes the dowry scenario. And since you're not rich, your only real option for marrying successfully is waiting for your family to get tired of keeping you around like a decorative animal and sell you off to some old coot with more gold than teeth. Although…"

Saya paused and turned around, glancing at Brelyna in a way that sent a shiver down her spine. In an instant, she closed the distance between the two of them and looked at her, as if inspecting her every feature in a way that made her heartbeat speed up again. Then, she squinted, humming in thought before backing away.

"Nah." The Dragonborn concluded, picking up the chair she kicked earlier and sitting down in the most unnervingly casual manner possible. "You've got a cute face, I'll give you that, but you couldn't seduce a rock with that personality of yours. Arranged marriage it is." She clasped her hands, sighed, and looked at the Telvanni. "So… still think going home is gonna solve everything?"

The sound Brelyna made was somewhere between a sigh and a nervous laugh. The sudden tone shift made it feel like her brain just got scrambled by hand. She was a bundle of nerves, flaring and trembling and wanting to explode but not knowing how. No matter how she looked at it, Saya looked completely unbothered by her reaction. In fact, she was watching for her reactions. She had to be. For every little twitch.

"You're… toying with me," Brelyna said. "You're scum. Filth. Snake." Her voice was trembling with anger. This whole time, she was just talking circles around her. She knew this was going to happen - hell, she probably planned this entire conversation ahead of time. That had to be it. She just wanted to get a rise out of her. She wasn't going to let her do it any longer. "Get the hell out of here. Now."

Saya regarded her with a blank look. Brelyna was positively fuming, her face twisted with cold anger and embarrassment. She couldn't blame her, but she would be lying if she said she wasn't disappointed. "So you're sticking with the plan, then. A'ight. Can't say I didn't warn you." The Dragonborn stood up, walking around Brelyna with steps that were deliberately too slow, like she was still deciding if she wanted to leave or not.

"You can tell the others that I'll be happy to never see them again," she spat, venom seeping from her every word.

"Sure." Saya hummed half-heartedly. Her pace didn't grow any quicker.

"The mages back home could teach me things Tolfdir and the others don't even dream of!" The Telvanni continued, though the impact was somewhat lessened by the way her voice cracked.

"Uhuh." Saya nodded, half-turning to give her an amused look while she reached for the door. Brelyna's eye twitched.

"You're all bottom-feeding scum, that's what you are. You should feel honored that you even got to look at me!" She crossed her arms, knuckles whitening as her fingers dug into the fabric of her own sleeves.

Somehow, just as she thought that there wasn't anything else Saya could say to make her any madder, she still managed to piss her off anyway by saying absolutely nothing. The Dragonborn opened the door and gave Brelyna a little wave before stepping outside the room.

The two of them just stared at each other silently before Brelyna grabbed the door handle, and in a final burst of anger, added: "And I'll have you know that I only need to say the word for a fucking army of suitors to appear at my beck and call! 'Couldn't seduce a rock', people should line up for a chance to be with someone like me!" And with that, she slammed the door shut.

Or she would've, if not for Saya sticking her foot in to hold it open. Brelyna stumbled forward, not expecting the resistance, only to lift her gaze to see Saya turn around and lean on the doorway, facing her. The Telvanni couldn't begin to guess what she was thinking, the Dragonborn's red eyes staring her down with what looked like complete and utter nonchalance, but there was… a gleam to them. A curiosity.

"Okay. Prove it."

Huh?

Brelyna stared at the Dragonborn, completely flabbergasted. No amount of deduction or even blind guesswork could've prepared her for something like that. Her mind struggled - no, refused - to process what she just heard. Did she even understand what she said? Was she insane? "What-"

"You heard me. Prove it." She leaned closer, speaking quieter than before. Brelyna could hear the rasp in her voice again, but it felt… off. It wasn't the same as earlier. Not threatening. It was a dare. "Right here, right now. Lock the door, lose the clothes, and show me what you can do."

Brelyna blinked and swallowed hard. She really was insane. She had to be. Her mouth felt dry as she spoke. "Why would I do that?"

Saya cocked her head. "What do you have to lose?"

Brelyna's mouth tightened into a thin line. She still felt a little dizzy from the conversation. She was shaking. She felt hot and cold at the same time, like she had just run a marathon. Her heartbeat, which had only just calmed down a few seconds ago, was picking up again. Dodging Saya's gaze, she looked back at her own bed in silence. For all intents and purposes, her evening was ruined. She was too fired up to just sit down and go back to what she was doing. And with everything that Saya had said swirling in her mind, she probably wouldn't be able to fall asleep either, even if she tried…

Brelyna bit her lip. "Just don't talk." With those words, she let go of the handle, letting Saya step inside. She smirked.

"No promises."

Click.