There is smoke and fire and death all around her, and all Izra can feel is a carnal terror. She does not feel the heat of the flames as she skirts them too closely. She does not feel the wind from the beast's wings as he flies overhead. All she feels is the need to run, the need to get away. She does not know if she follows the flashes of red or the flashes of blue until she is inside the Keep, smelling of fire and death. "Gods, I'm sorry," she whispered. She is not sure what she is sorry for.
She jerks awake, biting back a scream. She is still tangled up in Sorex, but the man doesn't wake. Slowly, carefully, she untangles herself from him. She thinks back on the night before, and when she is satisfied with her spotty memory, she uses the chamberpot. She is still so very tired, but Sorex is in her bed, and she wages a war in her mind between crawling back into the bed or slipping downstairs. It is still dark outside, although she does not know the time. Sleep eventually wins out, her eyes too heavy to stay open, and she slips under the covers next to him.
She has another nightmare, or is it a continuation of the first? All she knows is that there is more death, more fire, and more smoke and that she is so very tired. Her lungs are burning and her legs are aching, and there is death flying above her on wings as black as night. The dragon lands in front of her, opens it's massive maw to Shout at her or maybe bite her, but either one would kill her because she is close, too close, and there would be no getting away. She is Dragonborn, but that is not enough to stand up to these creatures, and just as the fire starts licking at her tanned skin, she jerks awake with a scream that can't be contained.
Sorex reaches for her. He must be a heavy sleeper, for it is dawn, and even her scream didn't wake him. She rolls towards him, away from the offending light. Her head hurts and she is not sure if it is from the alcohol she's drank or the nightmares she's had, but pain is pain and she finds herself clinging to it even as she buries her angular face in Sorex's chest.
She is not sure how long she lays there, listening to him breathe, but he startles her when she feels his fingers twine through her hair. "The day's not even started properly and yet I wake up with a beautiful woman and a headache from the Void," he remarks, and Izra tips her head back. The sunlight dances through her lashes, framing Sorex's form. "And it's not every day that I wake up with a great bear of a man," she answers, easily, and they share a brief smile.
They lay there for a few moments longer, each of them unwilling to rise but both of them knowing they have to. She has to leave for Wolfskull Cave and he has to help his father run the inn. Eventually, though, they rise, and leave the warmth of the bed behind. Sorex turns to her as he reaches the door, his hair disheveled and his beard ruffled. "Izra?" he says, "you will always have a place at the Winking Skeever whenever you visit Solitude." She smiles softly, tucking a strand of her own raven hair behind her ear. "I thank you, Sorex Vinius," she says. He doubts that she will ever come to Solitude again. She is a traveler, an adventurer, and there is no adventure to be had within the great stone walls of Skyrim's capital city. He made the offer anyway, a hopeful smile turning the corners of his lips upwards.
Izra dresses in her armor, pulling her hair back away from her face. A few strands fall down, framing her. She examines herself in the mirror critically. Her face is all sharp angles, but there is a delicateness about her that she wishes she could lose. She is small and wiry, but she has never hated or disliked her body. She has mostly concentrated on keeping it alive. Now, she has more than enough gold to spend. She is still lonely, though, but the life of an adventurer is often lonely.
With one look back at the inn, she leaves the gates, and leaves Solitude.
