Avsuo found herself brooding as she tracked her way back to Winterhold.
She had expected the College to yield more immediate results.
She was disappointed. Deorne stated that he had college business to attend to, so he had sent her off to find someone. "You'll know when you find them." Avsuo mentally scoffed. The first task she had been given to do by herself, and Deorne hadn't even had the decency to describe who she was looking for. She felt that was more part of Deorne's character, rather than something for him to hide.
Granted, he could still be hiding something.
But what?
Being the Dragonborn and Archmage are fairly large things to hide. What else could Deorne hide? And, if he did have more things to hide, why bother hiding the identity of whoever she had been sent to find?
No, Avsuo assumed this was a quirk of Deorne.
As she found herself at the entry arch of the bridge, she shook her head. She needed to find someone, not be lost in her thoughts.
Yet, as she glanced around, she noticed a figure standing at the bottom of the ramp that marked the bridge. It was the same burly woman who she had noticed when they had first entered town, still wearing the same heavy apron.
The woman stared at her as she descended the ramp.
"Are you Avsuo?" She asked curtly.
Avsuo nodded.
"Good. Come with me." The woman turned and began to walk away.
Avsuo wanted to protest. To ask why.
Truthfully, she found the woman intimidating. She didn't really want to make enemies so quickly.
Besides, maybe this was the person Deorne had told her to find?
Once again cursing Deorne's lack of details, she decided to follow the woman, if only to get out of the cold for a small bit.
The journey through Winterhold was much more subdued than when they had first entered the town. Few people besides the guards were on the streets, and even the guards seemed on edge. While Avsuo didn't blame them, she had to wonder if there'd really be two dragon attacks in a row.
The woman was leading her to one particular building, not unlike any other. The main difference being the forge and various smithing stations that made up a workshop on one side of the building.
The woman made for the door, stopping only briefly to unlock it, before gesturing Avsuo inside.
Only briefly questioning the wisdom of her decision, She stepped inside.
The forge outside painted her new host as a blacksmith, but the inside of the building painted her as a craftsman Avsuo had never seen before.
The room she found herself in had several tables, all of them littered with tools of all shapes and sizes, and trinkets and contraptions, whose origins and functions Avsuo couldn't even imagine.
There was only so much to look at before she heard her host behind her sigh, and she turned, seeing her hang up her apron.
"Care for anything to drink? Eat, perhaps?"
The sudden question caught Avsuo off guard. The woman had struck her as stern, possibly uncaring. But to offer food and drink to practically a complete stranger…?
"Uh, no thanks," she managed.
Her host shrugged. "Suit yourself. Follow me, if you would. My common room has better seating than my workshop."
Avsuo couldn't help but agree as she followed her host into another room, this one much more homey and familiar to her.
A large fireplace took up the center of the room, with cupboards and a table making a small kitchen in one corner.
Her host gestured to the few seats around the fire. "Please, make yourself comfortable."
Still trying to reconcile her assumed image of her host and how she was acting, Avsuo took a seat, careful to keep her wings out of the way.
Her host busied herself at the kitchen for a few moments, then took a seat as well, now cradling a mug of some steaming liquid. She took a few sips, humming with satisfaction, then turned to Avsuo.
"We haven't been properly introduced. Deorne told me your name was Avsuo. I'm Njadsel."
Avsuo managed a nod back. "Nice to meet you." She hoped that was true.
"Did Deorne tell you why you needed to find me?"
Her previous frustrations resurfaced to give her some stability. She shook her head. "No. He told me nothing."
Njadsel chuckled. "Sounds like Deorne. Always unnecessarily coy. No matter. Deorne needs you to have armor." She paused, gesturing to Avsuo's wings. "Given your new body, I imagine you realize regular armor isn't going to cut it."
Avsuo was keenly aware, for better or for worse. She nodded. "I figured, but I never actually thought something would be done about it."
Njadsel chuckled again. "Then he hasn't told you he's already accepted you're going to be traveling with him for the foreseeable future?"
"I assumed as much, but he never told me that outright."
"I doubt he's happy about it."
"About me traveling with him?"
Njadsel nodded. "Nothing personal, of course. I'm sure you're a lovely person. Deorne, however, you may or may not know, is something of a coward."
Avsuo hadn't really connected Deorne running from responsibility to cowardice, but isn't that what cowardice was?
"He never seemed to stick around long. Once I learned he was Dragonborn, I realized he didn't want to get caught up with any of the bigger pictures. Managed to wrestle from him that he hadn't even been to the Greybeards, who, according to the legends, would be a great boon to him. I left it at that, but I imagine your presence will finally spur him into action. I hope."
Avsuo wondered how Njadsel and Deorne knew each other. Maybe she could ask. "Why would you hope so?"
Njadsel scoffed. "Because the Dragonborn is a figure of legend! Empires rise and fall at their hand, and while I won't blame him, our Dragonborn is running around doing petty tasks while the world slowly crumbles."
"The world is crumbling?!"
"Sorry, exaggeration. What I mean is, there's the war. Dragons are returning. There are any number of plots and schemes regarding groups large and small that he could get involved in. Make some changes, save some people. Instead, he's out doing busy work on someone's farm or taking out some upstart bandits. The world goes on, but he could be making a lot more of a difference than he is."
Avsuo thought he was making enough of a difference doing what he was, but she decided to keep that to herself. The dragonborn are legends, she told herself. Legends don't dictate lives.
"But enough about Deorne. He commissioned me to make you armor, and some clothes, and I plan to deliver. So, let's get started." With that, she stood up, her drink apparently finished in the time they had been talking, then gestured Avsuo to do the same.
"Let's adjourn to my workshop, and we can get you measured."
The measurements were over rather quickly, and Avsuo hadn't even had time to dress before Njadsel was busily sketching something at one of her stations.
Avsuo wandered over as she finished pulling on her clothes, still a bit overwhelmed at the measure of objects filling the workshop. She peeked over Njadsel's shoulder as she came up behind her. By the time she did so, Njadsel had already filled one piece of parchment, and was quickly filling a second.
Avsuo watched the frenzy for a few moments, then spoke.
"So, what does this all mean?" The sketches were clearly of some garments and armor, but the patterns and measurements were lost on her.
Njadsel's frenzied work didn't pause as she responded. "Specifically, precision. See, armor in Skyrim is usually very… general. A medium sized person could come upon a dead Imperial soldier, and wear their armor without issue. Bandits are usually wearing an eclectic variety of armor because they just scavenge the best armor they can find, but they don't need to alter it to have it fit them. Even argonians can scavenge breastplates, even if other armor won't fit without alterations. You, however…," her work paused as Njadsel gazed over Avsuo, "have some unique challenges. Argonians are the obvious comparison, but they don't have wings, nor nearly such an impressive crown of horns, nor are their legs quite so twisted. Plus, you can't really wear gauntlets, not that you should need any. So, all of this combines into one of two solutions. One: Stick to really baggy clothing. Robes and dresses, mainly. However, that means you never really get used to using your body, and your newfound reliance on Deorne means you'll be traveling anyway, so we rule out option one. Our solution is precision. As your wings are seemingly functional, we need tight, but not constricting, armor, so you can fly and still be protected. Your horns should protect your head, but I, personally, would like to do something to give you some extra protection. Your tail is the easiest part to deal with, as it's the most similar to Argonians, so we consider that already dealt with. Your legs are the hardest part. Dragons are suspected to have digitigrade back feet, similar to dogs, but who created you took that a step further. Two knees, one back-bending, and digitigrade feet. Not even argonians have digitigrade feet, despite their reptilian origins. So, either I need to design leggings that protect you without hindering movement, or we need to stick to armored kilts. One is a challenge I'd embrace, and the other is uncomfortable for a variety of reasons."
Avsuo couldn't help but agree, trying as she was not to get overwhelmed by the sheer volume of information. She wondered how Njadsel had time to breathe between her sentences. She also now knew how the workshop was so cluttered while she was still a blacksmith.
Avsuo boiled down Njadsel's information to a simple fact: Her body was strange, and so functional armor would be difficult to make. Not that it seemed like Njadsel wasn't up for it.
Avsuo decided that Njadsel thrived on challenge.
"Uh," Avsuo, astounding herself, only had one question, "What does 'digitigrade' mean?"
Njadsel stopped filling her fifth piece of parchment. "Oh. Yeah, I guess that isn't common knowledge. Digitigrade, basically, means you walk on your toes."
Avsuo glanced at her legs. She had gotten used to them fairly quickly, but had generally avoided thinking about them. When she tried to "sense" her legs, they began to feel funny. She reached down a hand, running it over the new parts of her legs. It was still foreign, even after all this time. The sensations didn't seem to translate well into what her human legs would have felt. Maybe that's why it still felt natural? She would have thought constantly walking on her toes would have hurt, or at least been exhausting, but neither happened.
Her sudden self reflection caused her to find a seat.
Her body was no longer hers.
She supposed that was why she didn't give too much thought about it. It was easy to consider her new body in how she could keep it out of the way. Her tail was practically an afterthought at this point, and she already found herself instinctually lowering her wings whenever she walked through a doorway. Her horns were easily ignored, once she got used to the weight.
But her legs dwelt in the back of her mind. Her other changes were much more visible, but she felt her leg changes the most. Tails, horns, and even wings were additions. Her legs were necessary. Even after almost a month of her new body, she still found her legs strange. She'd go to stretch, and find herself with new and strange sensations as they moved in familiar, and unfamiliar, ways. She had been quick to discard these sensations. She felt they were admissions. Of what? Weakness? Her new body? Both sounded unhealthy, yet unfortunately likely.
She was startled out of her reverie by Njadsel.
"Avsuo? Are you okay?"
Avsuo glanced up. Njadsel was standing over her, a small stack of papers in her hands. How long had she been in her reverie?
She briefly debated how she would answer, then sighed.
"No, not really. But I'll be fine, I imagine."
Avsuo didn't give Njadsel a chance to respond, simply leaving her to her work and wandering back to the College.