Solitude was a large and beautiful city. The people there were distant, hiding behind their wealth, and Izra felt out of place in her scuffed armor and disheveled brown hair. She might have been the Dragonborn, but she was a girl who had come from one of the poorer places in Cyrodiil. She had learned from the beginning not to show any weaknesses, because weaknesses would be extorted. As a Bosmer orphan in the Imperial province, she had faced a modicum of racial discrimination. She had grown up with a life that would make anyone else hard and angry, but she had retained some scrap of innocence. She was willing to believe the best out of anyone.

So when she walked into the inn, with all the fancy decor, she felt wrong, but she kept her head held high and pretended that she belonged here. After all, she had the status for Solitude. She was Thane in Whiterun, but she had yet to grow into the title. "Do you think Falk would mind waiting another day for that rum?" she heard, as she approached the bar. The man's voice was gruff, and for a fleeting second after he turned to her she realized it matched his appearance quite well. "Ah, hello. Are you a customer? Would you like a warm meal, some cold drink, or a soft bed?" he asked. "I...would like a room for the night," she admitted, "and a meal later."

"All right. The room will be...twenty septims, for a pretty girl like you," he said. She could feel the tips of her ears turn red. "Thank you, serah," she said, dipping her head and shuffling her feet as she handed him the coins. "I...overheard you. You have a delivery to make to the Blue Palace?" she inquired, cocking her head to the side as she waited for an answer. "Aye, I do. Falk Firebeard, Jarl Elisif's steward, ordered a bottle of Stros M'Kai Rum. He wants it delivered to him at the Blue Palace," Sorex explains. Izra brightens, straightening her back and looking up at him. "I could do that for you, after I have a bath and change. I wanted to speak to Elisif anyway, and I promised the owners of Radiant Raiment that I would wear one of their dresses when I went. I could make the delivery when I go," she offered. "I would appreciate it, but I don't want to impose," the man said. "It's no trouble," she assures him. "I would like to know your name, though," he asks her, a soft smile teasing the corners of his mouth upwards. "Izra. What is yours?" she asked. "Sorex. Sorex Vinius."

An hour later, Izra had scrubbed the sweat and dirt from her skin so hard that she glowed. She twisted hair into an elaborate updo. She had to admit, she looked good in the dress the two Altmer women had given her to wear. The pale yellow complimented her tan skin as she stepped back out onto the busy streets of Solitude. Later, Falk would thank her for making the delivery and make polite conversation, and Elisif would comment on Izra's dress, and Izra found it easy to pretend she belonged. She certainly looked the part.

She was glad, though, to get back to the Winking Skeever. The inn was boisterous and loud, but no one paid her any second glances. She made her way to the bar; ordered a bottle of Surilie Brothers wine. It had always been her favorite. Sorex was in the corner, putting wood on the fire, and she made her way over to him, bottle of wine in hand. "Would you like to sit with me?" she asked, her voice so soft he could barely hear it over the noise of the inn. She nods towards an empty table in the back. "I'd like that," he answered, and followed her over. She wedged herself into the corner and he slid into the seat next to her. She offered him the bottle of wine almost hesitantly. "That's your wine, and it's expensive wine. I'd hate to take it from you," Sorex said, although he eyed the bottle longingly. "And I'd hate to drink alone," Izra replied, a soft smile on her face as Sorex took the bottle and drank.

"So, where are you from?" he asked, leaning close to her. "Bravil, in Cyrodiil. You from Solitude or?" she answered, leaning towards him so she could be heard. She was almost a head shorter than him. "I've lived here all my life. Father runs the inn; I'm set to inherit it when he...retires. What was Bravil like?" he replies, his lips almost grazing the tip of her ear. She shivered and took a sip of the wine. "It was...poor. Riften actually reminds me a lot of Bravil. Everywhere you look something's falling apart or someone's starving on the streets. It's nothing like Solitude," she tells him. She takes another drink of the wine, so her hands can have something to do.

It is not long until he asks the question she had been dreading. "What brought you to Skyrim?" he asks. "A lot of things. Mostly blind hope," she calls back. In the center of the room, a couple of the patrons were in the middle of a bar fight. The rest of the inn's patrons were rather loud. His hand is resting on her knee, and she can't remember when. Perhaps she has drunk too much wine already. Her face is flushed, and the bottle is half empty. She feels warm and happy, which is strange considering she hasn't been warm since she came to Skyrim.

They talk until the inn empties out and even Sorex's father disappears upstairs to bed. One bottle of wine turned into two and two turned into three, and Izra was well and truly drunk. "Come up to bed with me," she pleads, her eyes wide and her face almost pink from the wine. "Izzint too soon for that?" he asked, confusion coloring his face. Izra laughed and went to hit him playfully. She missed, her hand hitting the table instead. "Not like thaaaa'. Jus' to sleep," she assured him. "Will you tell me a story?" Sorex asked her, looking hopeful. "'Course! Come on," she says, standing. She staggers, but then she turns, clasping her hands around his wrist and tugging. He follows her up the stairs, the two of them laughing and giggling like schoolchildren, and they collapse on her bed side-by-side, the door still open.

"What story are you gonna tell?" Sorex asks, turning onto his side to face her. Somehow, they had landed in a pile of limbs, and Izra was more on him than beside him. "I could tell you abouuuut the first dragon I killed," she says. "Oooh, a dragon!" he remarks, and for some reason the two of them dissolve into giggles again. She begins telling the story, only to fall asleep in the middle of a sentence. Sorex, thankfully, had already passed into the realm of dreams.