Mirage

by JediShyala

Shadowmere is still adjusting to life as a Dunmer when she finds herself roped into rebuilding a fallen city and taunted by a dream she can't finish. Will her life ever truly be her own, or is her past continuing to cast shadows on her future? R&R ple

15. Chapter 15

The Road to Weynon Priory

Aside from the grimacing pain in her foot, the first half hour of Shadowmere's walk was quite pleasant. Lacking anyone for conversation was somewhat liberating and she entertained herself by stopping every so often to pick flowers and braiding them into a crown.

"When Mivryna showed me how to do this," she remembered as she struggled with a particularly short stemmed nightshade. "It didn't look that hard." It was less a matter of the nimbleness of her fingers and more a matter of that it had been at least ten years since she had been shown the task and her memory of the lesson was mixed with a slew of other memories. The road offered little in the way of distractions; seemingly endless waves of green and brown grass that barely moved in the slight breeze, nothing on the road but the occasional bug. There was a fair number of flowers from which she could choose to add to her chain, and the almost total silence was a very welcome relief from the sounds of battle and sorrow of the camp. "Up, over, around, tuck," she chanted in her mind, trying to make her fingers match the fingers in her mind. "Up, over, around, tuck, up, over, around, tuck, up, over-"

"Did you really think you were going to lose me for long?" The voice came out of nowhere and Shadowmere once again jumped and turned around, her sudden grip on her crown crushing a few of the flowers. There stood Ilend, trying to hide a shit-eating grin, evidently proud that he had once again scared the gods out of her.

"I had hoped!" she snapped, turning and hobbling away from him with more energy than she had previously employed.

"Even though you're limping like an old woman?" His voice was closer, and his steps were unlabored, proving that he was easily closing the gap between them. "It was nice while it lasted," she sighed, lamenting the loss of her solitude.

"Old women don't limp, they shuffle," she stated, trying to block out his presence and focus on braiding the flower chain. She had crushed the nightshade she had been trying to braid and so stuck it in her twisted hair, rather than trying to force it into place.

"Alright, limping like an old cripple," he corrected himself. "Are you sure you're alright to walk?"

"Yep, fine," she lied. Truth be told, she was in a fair bit of pain and would have given anything for a legion patrol or a Black Horse Courier rider to come along and give her a lift.

"Very well then," he said reluctantly, readily keeping pace with her. "So…what should we talk about?" He walked with his arms behind his back, making his chest puff out like a preening cock.

"Why do we have to talk?" she retorted, not taking her eyes off the growing work of art in her hands.

"Because the other option is me singing," Ilend said with a smirk. "And believe me when I say you want to avoid that at all costs. Where are you from?" Shadowmere kept her mouth shut and continued braiding a primrose into the crown. "You from Cyrodiil originally?" Silence. "Do you like any particular foods?" Again, there was silence. "What's your sign?" Still she refused to engage.

"Persistent little turd, isn't he?"

"Have you ever heard the song 'Sweet Lady of Wayrest?" That, whether he knew it or not, was a low blow, as thoughts of Hannibal started flooding her brain.

"Goddamn it." The words were like vinegar to her brain as she resigned herself to having a conversation with Ilend. "The foot of the Valus Mountains," she muttered, receiving another solid waste devouring grin from Ilend. "South of Cheydinhal." He nodded, still eminently pleased with himself.

"It sounds lovely," he said, getting only a scoff from Shadowmere.

"Yeah," she spat with venom. The mere memory of the shack at the bottom of the mountains, close to a river and too far from civilization for screams to be heard, made her feel spiders crawling on her skin. "It's cold, in the middle of nowhere and there was no one else around. Paradise." Ilend looked taken aback and cleared his throat, as though trying to take the words back.

"I'm West Weald born and bred," he said, changing the subject just enough to pass over Shadowmere's bitter discomfort, but not so drastically that he sounded like a lunatic. Shadowmere couldn't have been less interested if he turned black and white and started speaking in monotone.

"Outstanding," she muttered acerbically as she picked more flowers, alkanets if she remembered what Saeana had told her. "Tell me more." She had to clench her teeth to say the words, but she did for the sake of keeping his mouth moving in an a-melodic manner.

"I worked for the Surilie brothers when I was younger." Though his face said that he knew what her game was, he didn't seem to mind.

"Fascinating." She briefly considered speaking in whinnies. "At least he'd know I wasn't really listening."

"My friends and I would often sneak into the storage locker and nip from the casks of the good vintages. Never once got caught, even though we'd come away stumbling drunk."

"Awesome." "How difficult would it be to kill him and make it look like an accident?" she wondered, conjuring up images of shoving him off a cliff, or holding his head under water.

"How about you?" he asked, her charade apparently failing and forcing him to turn the conversation back to her. "What did you do as a crazy kid?" She chortled abruptly, her life as a "crazy kid" largely unbelievable.

"I was a horse." She didn't try to think of a convincing lie. "He'll never believe me anyway," she assumed. "Why not?"

"How was that?" he asked, smiling wryly.

"He probably thinks he's just playing along," she realized with some amusement. "Boring," she answered, still not looking up from her flowers. "Same thing, different days."

"What's it like to sleep standing up?" Shadowmere shrugged, remembering the odd position in which she slept so she might be ready for an attack from a mountain lion or a bear or some other predator that would see a reclined horse as an easy target.

"Nothing to write home about." It actually hadn't been terribly uncomfortable, just remarkably different from how she normally slept.

"How about oats?" he inquired, investing himself in their conversation. "What do oats taste like?" She could almost taste them, and she scraped her tongue against her teeth to try and clear the sensation away.

"Dry, crunchy. Better than hay." Ilend nodded thoughtfully, processing her answer.

"So, what was hay like?" He asked as a follow up.

"Ever chewed a piece of straw?" she asked, trying to find a way to relate the experience to someone who could never really understand.

"Yeah."

"Imagine chewing a mouthful, and then imagine it going down." That was the best she could do, but she wasn't really satisfied with the explanation. Ilend, however, didn't seem to have much quarrel with it.

"What about the bit and bridle?" he asked, moving on.

"Never had a bit. I wouldn't let anyone put it on me." That was one thing for which she could be grateful. She had seen other horses with sores in their mouths and broken teeth from owners that were overzealous with the reins.

"I can believe that," Ilend chuckled, shaking his head. "You don't seem the type to submit to someone else's rules," he added, the thought making Shadowmere smile. "On that note, how was the bridle?"

"It was fine if the rider didn't go crazy and start yanking my head from side to side." She had had a few of that type. "Probably why my back cracks loud enough to echo," she considered, not having thought about the two matters having anything to do with each other before.

"Now let me tell you about the time I was a goblin." Shadowmere couldn't stop a laugh at the sheer randomness of Ilend's statement.

"If you like." As much as she didn't want to admit it, she wasn't entirely hating his company and the conversation had helped distract from the pain in her foot. At the realization of having been given center stage, Ilend smiled and puffed up his chest again.

"I lived under a bridge," he stated grandly. "I would ask people three questions and if they answered them wrong I brought them home and ate them." Shadowmere nodded, putting the crown on her head and picking more flowers to start another.

"I don't see where you had any options," she said, gathering a handful of lady's smock from the side of the road.

"Well I had a wife and three little gob-lets to feed," he said, taking a moment to select a few stones from the side of the road and skipping them off the dusty road with remarkable skill.

"Wow, you lived the dream," she admired approvingly. "Except for the goblin part. And living under a bridge." After a sober nod, Ilend's act finally crumbled and he laughed out loud.

"You know," he chuckled, skipping another rock. "You're very good at this."

"Making up stories by telling the truth," she wondered. "Or reinforcing the lies of others?" "Sarcasm is my native tongue." Silence took over for a short time, Shadowmere braiding the second chain, Ilend skipping rocks off the road.

"I have a confession to make," he said suddenly, pausing to get some more stones.

"Oh?" Shadowmere asked, lifting her eyes for just a moment. Ilend leaned in closer to her and put up his hand, as though telling a secret.

"I was never a goblin," he stage whispered. She raised her eyebrows, shaking her head in mock disbelief.

"Shocking."

"I also never had a wife and gob-lets."

"Then how did you drink wine?" Ilend stared at her for a moment, and Shadowmere waited unflustered until the joke landed, getting a groaning laugh from him.

"That's just terrible," he groaned, skipping a rock an impressive three times. "Alright, tell me something else." Though she knew exactly what she wanted to say, she made a show of thinking of a "story" to tell him.

"I was a highwayman for five years," she said at last. "I killed people for money and information and worked as a prostitute when the need arose."

"Oh, this again," Ilend threw up his arms with his exasperated sigh. "Alright then, I was a skooma runner."

"That doesn't jeopardize your guard position?" she asked, knowing guards tended to be fairly hard-lined about stopping the flow of illegal substances in their counties.

"No," Ilend said, wiping dirt from the rocks onto his pants. "It's actually a requirement, to smooth the process. I had a flawless technique for sneaking the stuff into the country."

"What's the secret?" she needled, looking up from her new crown.

"Oh I'll never tell," he said, shaking his head. "It's a family secret, passed down from father to son."

"Fair enough. But tell me, did it involve a false limb?"

"How did you know?"

"When I was working as a prostitute, one of my customers' legs fell off and a few bottles of skooma fell out." That was, in fact, an excerpt from a part of her life on which Shadowmere had long since closed the book. Still, some things were too extraordinary to forget.

"Alright, I surrender," Ilend held up his hands, keeping his fingers closed around his fistful of stones. "I can't keep up with that. Oh, look!" Lifting her eyes from the flowers, she saw that he pointed at a group of wild horses off in the distance. "There have to be fifteen of them!" Shadowmere felt her eyes widen and she couldn't hide the marvel she found in the herd of beautiful animals; Ilend's estimation was accurate, there were approximately ten mature horses as well as no more than five foals that frolicked about nipping at one another playfully. Most of the herd consisted of Chestnuts, but there were a couple Bays and Paints as well, the varying shades of their brown coats shimmering in the sun like a river of bronze and copper. A beautiful black filly made for the only exception to the brown color palette; unlike the other foals, she stayed very close to her mother, almost like a shadow and the mare extended her neck toward her baby and nuzzled her nose against the filly's forehead. Something about the sight almost brought tears to Shadowmere's eyes.

"Almighty Azura, pull yourself together Shad!" she chastised herself, not wanting to cry at the sight of pretty horsies, and certainly not wanting to do so in front of Ilend.

"They're just standing there, why aren't they doing anything?" Ilend asked, tossing a rock in the air and catching it over and over again.

"They're probably grazing," she reasoned, noting that most of their heads were lowered to the ground, rising occasionally to check for danger and then descending again.

"It'd be great if we could see them all running together." Ilend's comment, coupled with the constant "thwap" of the stone hitting the skin on his hand, gave Shadowmere an uneasy feeling. He made a move to skip the rock at the ankles of the nearest horse, a male Bay, giving credence to her feelings. As it left his fingers at roughly the speed of sound, Shadowmere caught the rock, her hand stinging with how hard the sharp edges had hit her palm.

"Don't. Do that."

Her words were cold as she glared with intensity that burned her own eyes at Ilend, who looked more than a little impressed at her catch and more than a little shocked at her change in demeanor. "Ever."

"What?" he asked, his words showing how genuinely confused he was about why she had intervened. "I was just going to hit the horse's leg to get them to move."

"Ignoring the fact that getting hit with a rock on the ankle is extremely painful," she said, her teeth still gnashing together to keep her from screaming at him. "If you spook one, you're going to cause a stampede. There are foals there that could easily be trampled by the bigger horses."

"It's not as though they belong to anyone."

"They belong to their mothers."

"Does that matter?" Ilend's truly bewildered ignorance only served to inflame Shadowmere further.

"Clearly not to you!" she snapped, feeling the stone dig even more into her hand as her grip tightened. "Let me put it this way; how hard do you think I'd have to skip this to get it to go clear up your dick-hole?"

"What?" She didn't know a man's yelp could reach that high a pitch.

"If you even think about doing something like that again, to any animal, I'll skip rocks until I get it right."

"Even wild ones?" She let out an exasperated sigh, shaking her head at the fact that her ultimatum required further clarification.

"Don't be stupid, if you're attacked, fight back. If you're not attacked, don't antagonize, don't taunt, leave it alone. Is that simple enough?"

"Quite." With that, Shadowmere handed the stone back to him, giving a final, emasculating scowl before she pushed the garland she had been working on toward him.

"Hold this too," she said, tucking it into his hands before she started limping down the path. "And stay here."

"Where are you going?" he called after her.

"I'm going to go convince the horses to leave the path so we can get around them."

"So, I'm not allowed to bother the horses, but you are?" The fact that he considered hitting a horse with a rock "bothering" only nurtured her impatience.

"I'm not going to 'bother' them. Horses aren't spooked by me."

"What are you, some kind of horse ambassador?"

"You could say that," she thought, smirking a little but not answering his question out loud. During her thirty years as a horse, she had very few masters or mistresses who realized she had the ability to communicate with them, however limited it was. Since she had been wanting for conversation on a human level, she had learned to "speak" the horse language out of necessity. She had also noted that while horses in the various stables she had frequented had learned to understand a modicum of Cyrodiilic, wild horses had no exposure to it and thus could not understand it.

As she coolly approached the herd, she made her way toward the matriarch, walking right up to her and the mare lifting her head. Shadowmere tossed her head and motioned away from the road toward an open pasture about a hundred yards from where they were. The mare nodded and nickered to the rest of the horses before the group moseyed off the road toward the new grazing patch. "Thank you," she wanted to shout though, to a wild horse, the words had no meaning. As she walked back, she could plainly see that Ilend's mouth was hanging open and the rocks in his hand had dropped all over the road.

"How the hell did you do that?"

"I told you, I was a horse," she said, taking back the garland.

"That was fun at the time, but honestly how are you able to do that?"

"I don't know," she shrugged, carefully crouching to pick a couple of primroses. "Now let's go before they figure out that you and I are together."

"Do they know I was going to skip a rock at them?"

"I don't know, I didn't tell them. Are you coming or not?"

"Am I allowed to?" Shadowmere stopped and furrowed her brow as she considered his words.

"Come to think of it no, get the hell out of here," she practically ordered. Despite the words she had used, Ilend laughed lightly at her reaction.

"I think I'm going to come along anyway," he said after a moment's pause. "I'm slightly more afraid of Captain Matius than I am of you."

"Really?" she scoffed. "What threats has he made against your dick?" Ilend sighed and shook his head.

"I'd really rather not give you any ideas." She couldn't fault the man's logic, even if she found him distasteful.

From there, the two walked in silence, not even walking close enough that conversation could take place had either of them desired it. Though they kept pace with one another, Shadowmere kept to the right side of the dusty road while Ilend stayed to the left. As they approached the walk to the western gate to Skingrad, Shadowmere could no longer stand the pain in her left foot. Letting Ilend go on walking, she stopped by a boulder on the side of the road. Leaning back against the rock, she lifted her foot and massaged it carefully, not wanting to further the break.

"You're certain you're alright to walk?" It hadn't taken long for Ilend to realize she had stopped and return to her side where he now stood overhead, staring down with what looked like genuine concern.

"Yes," she snapped, not feeling particularly charitable. "Believe me when I say I've done harder things with worse injuries."

"You're hobbling," he stated, crossing his arms and obviously not accepting her answer.

"I have a broken foot, of course I'm hobbling," she snarled. "Wouldn't you hobble?" Ilend raised his arms and got an exasperated look on his face that Shadowmere would have laughed at, had she not previously threatened to skip rocks at his genitals.

"Then how are you alright to walk?" She hadn't believed that men could shriek, but if they could, the sound Ilend had made would have been textbook man-shriek.

"Do you see much choice?" she asked, resting her foot on the ground and getting up.

"I could carry you," he offered. "It really wouldn't be any trouble.

"No, no thank you," she said as she started her haggard walking again. The thought of actually owing this man a favor was enough to make her nauseated. "Hobbling is getting me there quickly enough. We wouldn't go any faster with you carrying me." Ilend sighed, letting his head drop.

"Fine, your choice," he surrendered and started after her. "Are we stopping at Skingrad for the night?"

"We can, if you're feeling tired." Ilend gave a humorless laugh.

"Is this the part where you attempt to verbally emasculate me by saying you were planning on walking all the way to Chorrol tonight with a broken foot, but you'll stop if I'm too much of a pansy to keep walking?" Shadowmere nodded, unable to find a more perfect way of phrasing the description.

"Yep, that's where we are right now," she confirmed, to which Ilend nodded and despondently ran a hand over his hair.

"Splendid," he muttered, his displeasure making her smile.

"Gods, I am just terrible person," she decided, knowing that finding such joy in the misfortune of others was the hallmark of a true asshole. As the two approached the gates, Shadowmere caught sight of the inclined paths just inside and was gently reminded by the angry throbbing in her foot that this was going to be something to be reckoned with. "Don't you dare cry Shadowmere Blackmane," she demanded of herself as she felt her heart sink into knees. Just when she considered setting up camp in the stables, she recalled that Skingrad was one of the few places that had an alchemical shop that was unaffiliated with the Mage's Guild. When she would travel with Saeana, getting potions was never a problem since her companion was a guild member, but as Shadowmere was less than gifted with arcane matters, independent potions shops were her only option. "I'm not going to be stopped by pain when I'm this close to relief," she affirmed. Limping up the hill to the left, she made her way along the curved road and stopped in front of All Things Alchemical. She strained to open the door, shaking the handle violently and throwing her weight against the hinges.

"Anyone in there?" she yelled, pounding against the thick wooden door. "Ilend, make yourself useful and get this open!" she ordered, desperation getting the better of her.

"Shop's closed for the next few months." Before Ilend could answer a new voice had jumped into the fray. She turned around to see a Skingrad city guard staring at her with suppressed amusement. "The proprietress got herself arrested; it's probably better if you don't ask how."

"But my foot is broken!" she whined, pointing at her beleaguered appendage which was swelling enough to strain the boot laces. "What am I supposed to do about that?"

"The chapel is just to the north, our healer Marie would be happy to fix you up." Shadowmere rolled her eyes and groaned; it was nothing short of pigheadedness to refuse the skill of a healer just because she worked in a chapel, but the thought of walking into the building that brought back so many bad memories was enough to make her skin crawl.

"I'll take the broken foot, thanks," she muttered. The guard shrugged, though his face was less nonchalant about her all but denouncing the Nine.

"Vergil!" Before the guard could make his displeasure known, Ilend walked past Shadowmere with a surprised and glad look on his face. His voice surprised Shadowmere, but she didn't jump, she simply looked back, somewhat taken aback to see her companion smiling and reaching out his hand to shake that of the Skingrad guard. "This is where you ended up?"

"Ilend, you dog!" The guard returned Ilend's surprised and glad smile, as well as the handshake. "We all thought you had died in Kvatch!"

"I thought I was going to until my friend Shadowmere here and her friend showed up to save all of our hides." She was surprised to hear Ilend both give her credit for saving Kvatch and claim her as a friend.

"He probably just said 'my friend,' instead of 'this bitch,'" she decided, leaning against the stone building to take the strain off of her foot as Ilend and his actual friend caught up.

"How'd you get this posting?" Ilend asked, leaning against the building. "I thought you wanted to serve in Chorrol."

"Bernadette got a job working for Tamika, so it only makes sense for me to try for a posting here. In truth, Tamika was able to pull some strings in order to keep Bernadette from leaving."

"So you're defending the good people of Skingrad from the occasional bandit or inebriated neighbor. Tough gig." Vergil smiled and got a satisfied look on his face.

"It's a rough job, no doubt about it." It was quiet between the two men before Vergil cleared his throat and spoke again. "So," he started haltingly. "What's Kvatch like these days?" Had Ilend and her positions been reversed, Shadowmere would likely have punched the pampered guard. Ilend's heavy sigh effectively did the same thing.

"Smoky," he started, as though he didn't even know where to be begin. "It was night when the walls were breeched, so most of the town was in bed. Only about fifteen percent of the population made it out, and most had some kind of physical injury, and all are going to be scarred mentally. There's no medical supplies, very little food. It's…very bad." Shadowmere hadn't actually heard the situation described to someone who hadn't been there in such basic term; no food, no medicine, most dead. The simplicity of the matter twisted her stomach as she twisted the stems of the flowers in the garland. To her surprise, she found herself feeling compassion for the man she disliked so much. He had, for the first time, shown his soft underbelly and she didn't feel like punching him in it.

"God damn," Vergil murmured, shaking his head. "So, what's the plan? Is the count going to be rebuilding, or are you folks going to let it go?" Ilend's face twitched with uncertainty.

"I don't know how public this information is," he said, giving a quick look around. "So I'll thank you to keep it to yourself, but Count Goldwine wasn't in the lucky fifteen percent."

"You're serious?" Vergil's face drained of color and he took a step closer as he lowered his voice.

"I'm afraid so. Captain Matius has taken over as our de facto leader until a new count can be named. As of right now, his plan is to rebuild and there's been no opposition to the idea."

"What's the damage to the population?"

"Per capita, I'd put the number at less than twenty, including all the guardsmen, Shadowmere and her friend."

"God's blood," Vergil breathed, shaking his head. "I had heard it was bad, but less than twenty, that's…horrific."

"It's even worse to see it," he shuddered. "The bastards picked off the weakest and worked their way up."

"Is there anything we can do?" Vergil asked. "Other than pray?" Shadowmere wanted to flick the man in the ear for such a stupid comment. "I'm going to guarantee that all the people who died were all praying when they were torn apart and set on fire," she thought bitterly. "What good did it do them?"

"Anything that anyone can spare is welcome," Ilend said. "As I said, we don't really have anything so we'd be grateful for whatever is given." Vergil nodded, holding out his hand.

"I have to get back to my rounds," he said reluctantly as he shook Ilend's hand. "But I'll see what I can drum up for Kvatch amongst the guards."

"We'd appreciate that," Ilend said with a smile. "Take care of yourself and give my regards to Bernadette."

"Will do, take care." As the man walked away, Ilend turned his attention back to Shadowmere, who still leaned patiently against the stone building.

"We trained together," he said before she could get the question out of her mouth. "In the Imperial City, longer ago than either of us would care to admit." His slight smile fell as he spoke, remembering simpler times.

"It's kind of strange that you two ended up serving in such different places," she said, gingerly wiggling her toes to keep them from falling asleep.

"Kvatch wasn't all that different from Skingrad," he said quietly. "And to be honest I think they would have fared about the same if they had been attacked instead of Kvatch. Count Hassildor might have been a little more effective than Count Goldwine, simply because he's more sensitive to threats against his county, but I doubt the difference would have been measurable." Ilend sighed shaking his head, almost as though he was analyzing what had happened at Kvatch. "But there's just no amount of training that can prepare people to deal with that," he decided. After a moment of silence, Shadowmere not knowing what to say, she opted to move the conversation forward.

"Alright, we need a place to stay," she commented, pushing herself off the stone she had leaned against. "What are our options?" Her question seemed to bring Ilend out of his post trauma analysis, and he looked almost surprised to see her standing there, despite the fact that had spoken not ten seconds earlier.

"There's the Two Sisters, and the West Weald," he listed.

"Yeah, those cost money," she dismissed.

"Don't you have some?"

"Yeah, but you apparently have friends in town," she less than subtly suggested. "Who are evidently looking to help." Ilend shook his head and crossed his arms.

"There's an unspoken rule among city guards," he said firmly. "Unless invited, we don't stay overnight."

"That's a silly rule," she stated, crossing her arms in return. "Do you have some rules about not being good hosts or something?" As he cocked his head to the side, looking for the right way to answer her question, Ilend looked slightly uncomfortable.

"Well," he started slowly, almost as though he was haggling with his brain to give him the words he wanted. "Since we have dangerous jobs, we like to option to be…conjugal…with significant others without worrying about guests." As much as she wanted to laugh, Shadowmere couldn't get the image of some guards naked, ones that she never wanted to imagine as such, out of her head.

"That's a lot more than I needed to know."

"It's the simple truth of it," he shrugged, his cheeks flush, but overall he seemed uncharacteristically unembarrassed by talking about sex.

"Anyway," she said, shaking her head to clear the dirty pictures from her mind. "You said you know the Surilie brothers." Ilend scoffed and shook his head with vigor.

"Believe me when I say that we don't want to stay with them."

"And why would that be?"

"In laymen's terms, they're pricks." Shadowmere couldn't help but laugh at the frank language, as she had the sense of humor of a thirteen year old boy.

"Well, they probably have a lot of booze," she pointed out. This was a strong argument in her mind, but Ilend remained unconvinced.

"Honestly Shadowmere, I'll pay for a room." His strong aversion to staying with his acquaintances gave her an idea.

"Fine, you stay in a room, I'll go stay with the pricks." If she could convince him to stay at an inn, she might be able to sneak off before he woke up the following morning.

"Gods but you're stubborn," he growled in exasperation. "I'd have more luck negotiating with a door handle.

"Well with any luck you won't have to put up with me for much longer," she retorted, narrowing her eyes. "Are you coming or not?"

"Do you always go to strangers houses and ask to sleep?" It amused her that Ilend though she had never done anything so scandalous.

"I usually kill them first actually." Ilend put his hands on his hips and shook his head.

"See I don't know if you're kidding or not."

"Of course I am," she said, mirroring his stance. "I don't do that anymore." Ilend shook his head. "The vineyard is just outside the gates, right?" Shadowmere asked, leaning against a garbage cask to take the weight off her foot.

"Yeah, but don't you want food first?" While Ilend's suggestion was a valid one, Shadowmere had no doubt that it was an attempt to delay their visit to the Surilie's.

"You don't think your boys have food at their house?"

"They probably have cheese, tomatoes, sweetrolls and mutton," Ilend stated. "But they do their shopping on Sundas and since this is Loredas, they probably don't have enough for four."

"Alright we can stop and eat first," she sighed, secretly glad she could sit and rest her foot. "This alright?" she asked, pointing toward a sign hanging over a door to an establishment called the West Weald Inn.

"Fine, anywhere but that Orc establishment," he muttered, shuddering a little. "Eating there gives me the creeps."

"Oh? Where's that?" Shadowmere didn't particularly care for Orc cuisine, due in part to her time spent in the Imperial City's stable, but she was eager for any opportunity to make Ilend leave.

"Clear across town," he stated quickly. "And for the record, the last cut of beef I had there whinnied."

"I was convinced at 'clear across town'," Shadowmere said trying to get the most recent unpleasant image out of her head. Ilend pushed open the door to the West Weald Inn, allowing Shadowmere to go in first before he followed. As the building was made of stone and dark wood, it was more than a little dim, but the several large windows on the floor above them went a long way to lighting the establishment. The patrons didn't even glance at the door as they made their way through the foyer. A tall, brunette woman, a Nord if Shadowmere guessed correctly, stood sipping a tankard while a heavily armored Bosmer and a well dressed Orc chatted about what sounded like Kvatch, as they were using words like "dead," "finished," and "dead."

"Food, room or both?" Shadowmere looked at a blond Imperial woman, presumably the proprietress, behind the counter, leaning over a ledger book.

"At least food," Ilend said, his voice hopeful.

"Alright, dinner list is on the board," she replied, pointing toward a large slateboard propped against the counter.

"Beef stew for me," Ilend said, slumping at a table. "And some of Tamika's wine." The mention of the wine she had had as a painkiller made Shadowmere cringe and an inexplicable shiver run down her spine.

"The chicken and rice with mushrooms," she said quickly, sitting across from Ilend. "And beer. Lots of it." She grabbed a chair from another table, pulled it over, and eased her foot up onto it.

"Ma'am you don't happen to have an icehouse, do you?" Ilend asked as the proprietress headed to the kitchen. The woman scowled.

"Tamika's stuff is best served slightly chilled, not on ice," she stated haughtily.

"It's actually for my friend's foot." This came as something of a shock to Shadowmere, but she did her best to not show it.

"What's his angle?" she wondered. "Is he trying to kiss up to me to get me to try and stay here?" "It'll be fine after it's up for a while," she said quickly. "It's not worth mentioning."

"What's the trouble?" The woman asked, lifting her eyebrow.

"I doubt she actually cares," Shadowmere decided. "I'm guessing she's just nosy." "Nothing really-" she tried to lie, but was cut off by Ilend.

"It's broken." Shadowmere glared at him; she hadn't wanted to give the woman, who looked to be the nagging type, any reason to fuss and keep them there longer.

"A healing potion would be better than ice," she said, eying how distorted the leather of Shadowmere's boot had grown from her appendage's swelling.

"Falanu's out of business for a while," a tall, severe looking Nord woman piped in. "They caught her in the graveyard again." All the regulars in the tavern shuddered, giving Shadowmere the impression that she and Ilend were better off in the dark on this matter.

"Is she a necromancer or something?" Ilend asked, clearly not getting the same vibe she had.

"Not a necromancer," the Nord said slowly. "But if you pronounce it differently, like necromancer…"

"Gods blood Else, they haven't eaten yet!" the proprietress snapped. "You'll put them off their appetites!"

"Oh you can bite my garters Erina," the Nord snorted, returning to her tankard.

"And if you don't watch your mouth, you can find somewhere else to drink." The Nord rolled her eyes and muttered something that sounded unkind into her tankard as she brought it to her lips. Erina turned her attention back to Ilend and to Shadowmere, who was slightly amused by the interactions.

"They're like a paler, bitchier version of Saeana and me," she decided, and found herself feeling nostalgic for the transient life she had with her friend. "Keep it together," she coached herself as her feelings crept in. "Everything's going to be back to normal in a day or two."

"I'll bring you some ice when I come back," Erina interrupted her thoughts as she walked out again. Reluctantly, Shadowmere glanced up at Ilend with a mix of guilt and gratefulness.

"Thanks," she mumbled, gingerly unlacing her boot. "That was nice of you to do." Ilend looked just as surprised to hear her say the words as she felt to say them.

"It's nothing," he said, leaning forward. "From the looks of your shoe it's going to take some convincing to get your foot back into it." With surgeon's hands, she eased the leather away from her skin and, using one hand to support her foot and the other to peel off the boot, and brought the limb into the dim light. "Holy shit," Ilend blurted out. "That looks terrible." Shadowmere scoffed.

"Remind me not to have you at my deathbed," she said, wrapping her hands around her foot to stop the throbbing.

"I'm sorry, but…well look at it!" Shadowmere couldn't argue against his words; her normally azure foot was painted a few shades of angry purple and was perhaps one and a half times its normal size. "That's one of the most horrible bruises I've ever seen." His words made her head jerk up and her pulse quicken slightly.

"You- you can see the bruising?" she asked in disbelief.

"Umm…is that a trick question?" he inquired, his body becoming defensively rigid even sitting at the table.

"Sorry," she said, shaking her head at her own reaction. "Most people can't tell when or where I have a bruise." It was Ilend's turn to scoff.

"A person would have to blind and have your head under a rock to not notice this," he stated with certainty. "Are you sure you won't reconsider going to the chapel?"

"No, I'll stick with ice and booze, thanks," she snipped, wincing as she massaged her foot lightly.

"Now there's some sensible thinking!" the Nord woman cheered, raising her tankard in Shadowmere's direction. "Why give your money away to the chapel charlatans when it's so much more fun and effective to drink the pain away?" Ilend turned to the woman with a look that made Shadowmere sigh and put her face into her hands.

"The healers would only be charlatans if they charged for their services, which they don't," Ilend snapped.

"To start with," the woman began her retort. "Then they get you to tithe and donate stuff and volunteer." Shadowmere got the distinct feeling that she was witnessing the inception of a new holy war.

"Because we were wanting for another one of those."

"The gods are a just a clever ruse for a bunch of lazy bums with too much time on their hands to make a living without doing anything. And if you don't like that, you can bit my garters." The idea seemed to appeal to Ilend and his face flushed as it had when Shadowmere started unlacing the waist of her armor.

"Is there a particular spot where I ought to sink in my teeth Miss…?"

"God-Hater. Else God-Hater."

"Ahh, so you're honoring the family name I see," Ilend drawled with more snide than Shadowmere had thought he was capable of. "Your hatred of the Gods may have next to nothing to do with any knowledge of or experience with them."

"Hard to have an experience with something that doesn't exist," Else stated taking a guzzle of her beverage. "I'm guessing any quality time you spend with the gods is accompanied by some leather grease and an old towel."

"And I'm guessing that getting people to bite your garters is the most action you get-"

"Would you both just stuff it already?" Shadowmere found the words bursting from her mouth. "You're not going to convince each other, so just give it a rest."

"Shadowmere, we have a duty to-" Ilend started to protest.

"Don't lump me in with you, Skippy," she shot. "And I guarantee she's heard the shtick before, the duty's been done." She turned to the woman, who looked entirely too smug.

"And Else, if you get off by challenging peoples' religious beliefs fine, have fun, but do it where people aren't paying to sit. It's just annoying." With that, she sat back in her chair and let out a breath, her effort resulting in silence.

"About damn time," Erina said, making her way inside, balancing a tray as she wrangled with the door. "I was getting ready to throw both of you out."

"You were out in the kitchen, you couldn't hear us," Else shot back.

"Right, so that was two other people yapping about religion and masturbation?" Shadowmere tittered as Erina set her plate in front of her. She thought certain that Ilend would turn to stone after hearing the word "masturbation" said aloud, but he simply continued to turn shades of red and pink. As she took a sip of her beer, she felt Erina put a hand on her shoulder. "I normally charge a septim for a bucket of ice," she said, setting a large bucket overflowing with ice on the floor by her chair. "The quiet is worth at least that."

"Thanks," Shadowmere said, taking a scarf from her bag, she wrapped a few pieces of ice into a neat little package and cautiously laid it on the most swollen part of her foot, over the arch and reaching into her toes. The subtle weight sent a pulse of pain through her entire lower leg and the cold send a tensing, almost tickling sensation along with it.

"Better?" Ilend asked, his complexion almost back to its normal tan as he poked his stew with his spoon.

"It will be," she grunted, taking a guzzle of beer to comfort herself. "Right now, it's just cold and painful." With another comforting sip, she took a napkin from the table and made another icepack. She firmly placed it between the back of the chair and the arch of her foot, wincing once again. Despite her current discomfort, she knew from past experience that this was the quickest way to reduce the swelling in her broken foot. Rather than dwell on the muted pain, she opted to dig into her meal, an odd mix of grey and taupe colors that tasted only moderately better than it looked. Swallowing quickly, she took a gulp of beer to chase it down, noting that Ilend was still examining his first spoonful of his alleged beef stew.

"Do you know what that is?" he asked, pointing to a long string hanging from the spoon.

"If you're lucky, hair," she said after scrutinizing the strand. "If not, rat whiskers." Ilend flinched, pulling it from the spoon and letting it drop to the floor.

"I thought the same thing," he shared, cautiously taking a bite. He chewed thoughtfully while she took another bite of her own dinner, analyzing what she put in her mouth. The rice was definitely rice and the mushrooms were definitely mushrooms, wisp stalk caps if she were to judge by appearance and taste, but that was the end of her certainty. The meat was a mystery, as was the greyish sauce.

"How is it?" she asked, taking a hasty swallow of beer and noticing that his face was somewhat less than tan.

"I hope the white things are radishes, because they don't taste like potatoes," he stated, wiping his mouth. "And the meat is the rattiest tasting beef I've ever had." Suddenly, in a wave of nausea, the mystery of the meat in Shadowmere's dish felt solved. "I hate to admit defeat," he said sheepishly. "But why don't we just head for the Surilie's?" As badly as she wanted to gloat, Shadowmere could only sigh as she moved her plate to her other chair, the smell of rat suddenly overwhelming.

"My foot needs a little while longer before I can get my boot back on." Ilend looked at the wine glass that he had managed to nearly drain in the remarkably short time it had been at the table.

"You're under no obligation to stay," she pointed out, realizing this could work to her advantage. "You could go spend the night at the chapel or something." Ilend scoffed.

"I'm not an idiot," he chided. "You'd just try to leave me behind again. Then I'd catch up with you hobbling half a mile down the road where I'd probably end up scaring you and you'd yell at me again." Shadowmere shook her head and felt like sulking. She had really had been counting on Ilend being an idiot.

"Alright, fair enough," she admitted. "Well you might as well order some more wine. I can't see leaving for at least another hour, but probably more." She took another sip of her beer, while Ilend leaned back and groaned, his despair cruelly comical to her. "As much of a bitch as that makes me."

"How about I carry you?" he offered, more out of desperation than chivalry.

"For the last time, no way," she snapped, not at all happy about his continued suggestion, chivalrous, desperate or some combination of both. "Just because I let Jesan carry me once doesn't mean I'm an invalid."

"I didn't mean to impl- wait, Jesan carried you?" he asked for clarification.

"Yeah, from the remains of the gate after I brought Menien out, when my feet looked like they were attached to the opposite legs."

"You're sure it was Jesan?"

"Yeah, why?" "What's he getting at?" she wondered with suspicion. Ilend scoffed incredulously.

"I didn't think he was nearly strong enough."

"WHAT?" Shadowmere shrieked, nearly leaping across the table to level Ilend, who looked appalled with the words even as they had left his mouth.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that!" he explained quickly, holding up his hands in a frantic show of submission.

"How else can that statement be intended?" Shadowmere refused his apology before it even reached her ears.

"He's a noodle! On a good day, he could maybe carry your friend!" Shadowmere felt her jaw drop, at a rare loss for words at how deeply Ilend was digging his hole. "Wait, I mean because she's so delicate looking and you're so…strongly built! Wait-!" Using her good leg Shadowmere, squarely and without restraint, kicked him in the testicles. The man squeaked, buckled, and fell off his chair, hitting the floor like a sack of wet flour.

"If your mouth had a crotch I would have punched that instead," she added, rubbing the momentary sting out of her good foot. Ilend said nothing coherent, merely lay groaning on the floor. The rest of the patrons rolled their eyes and said nothing of much mind, though the two men in the building, the heavily armored Bosmer and well dressed Orc, had audibly winced when Ilend had been struck. As nice as the place seemed it was, at its heart, a bar and their altercation was neither the first, nor the last the establishment would see.

"Another beer?" Erina asked, taking the empty bottle and goblet from the table.

"Sure," Shadowmere said, leaning back in the chair. "I doubt he's moving very far or fast for a while." Erina nodded in agreement.

"Back in a moment," she said, barely noticing Ilend almost writhing on the floor.

"Sha-?" he gasped after a few seconds.

"What?" she asked with some annoyance as she cleaned under her fingernails.

"C-could I have some ice? Please?" She wanted to tell him to go do unspeakable things to himself, but his voice was just pathetic enough that she sighed and handed down a couple chunks to his quivering hands. To her surprise the man, whom she thought to be more than a little prudish, unbuttoned the first couple of buttons on his trousers and eased the ice into his crotch. "Sorry chaps," he muttered, Shadowmere struggling to not laugh out loud at the conservative guard talking to his balls. Erina returned with the drinks, left them on the table and walked away, never saying a word about Ilend with his hand still in his pants.

"You realize," Shadowmere said, after finishing both the wine and the beer. "That the ice melting in your pants is going to make you look like you pissed yourself."

"Lesser of two evils," he grunted. "I know I was…lacking in judgment, but did you have to do that?"

"I let you get away with one," she pointed out. "Then you continued speaking and I still didn't do anything. After three times, you get kicked in the nuts. That's the rule."

"So I'm only allowed to be stupid twice in a row before you hit me?"

"In the nuts," she clarified. "I can slap you in the face or punch you in the eye at any point. It's left to my discretion."

"You couldn't have just slapped me?" he whimpered, putting his hand on the seat of the chair and making an attempt to get up.

"I can do that now if you like," she offered. "I'd be happy to do it."

"You're too kind, but I think I'll take a rain check." He managed to drag himself into the seat, never taking one hands off of his embattled gonads.

"Stop grabbing your crotch, you look like a pervert," she said, drinking more beer.

"I'm applying pressure," he scowled. "Believe me when I say that pleasure has absolutely no place in my actions right now." He gingerly adjusted his position in his seat and noticed the empty goblet at his seat. "Have you been drinking my wine?" he asked, shaking his head in dismay.

"Yes, it's supposed to be slightly chilled, not room temperature. Remember?" she confirmed, as though she had done him a great service. "You're welcome." She was enjoying poking Ilend with a metaphorical stick perhaps a little more than was proper, but he was hardly resisting.

"Gods, you must be Arkay's living saint," he muttered.

"Hey! I'll kick you myself you little bitch!" Else spat from another table. "Keep your gods out of my ears!"

"I appreciate the enthusiasm," Shadowmere interjected. "But I've got this under control."

"I'm entitled to defend my beliefs!" Else slammed her tankard to the table to emphasize her point.

"But that's not what you're doing!" Shadowmere exclaimed, rolling her eyes. "You're just threatening people when they say something you don't like!"

"Isn't that how your boyfriend got his danglers mangled?"

"I didn't threaten him! He earned a testicle thrashing when he called me fat!"

"I never said-!"

"SHUT UP!" both women yelled. Ilend willingly obliged. "And hey, he called a spade a spade," Else smirked, uncrossing her arms, showing how lean her torso was. Shadowmere wasn't threatened by the sight.

"That really means a lot coming from a woman with a face that looks like a hemorrhoid and the boobs of a thirteen year old boy." Else reared back and lunged for Shadowmere, who rolled under the table from her chair, knocking her foot along the way. "Holy Gods!" she cried, holding her foot with both hands.

"You bitch!" Else shouted, flipping the table. "I'll kill you!" Realizing she had awakened an ogre, Shadowmere reached for the only weapon she could reach. Sticking out her good foot, she tripped Else, bringing her to the ground. Crawling on top of her, she shoved her weapon into the Nord's face; her plate of rice and mystery grey meat.

"Tap out when you've had enough," she said, Else already flailing wildly. Shadowmere was able to dodge her swinging fists and watched carefully for any sign Else was giving up. Finally the Nord slapped the ground twice and Shadowmere pulled the plate off of her, revealing her face plastered with the pasty substance, her eyes squeezed shut and her mouth gulping air. She coughed heavily, blasting gobs of rice and gravy across the room.

"Alright," Erina said, crossing her arms as she stood over the mess that had taken over her establishment. "I put up with the religious verbal fistfight, the dumbass getting kicked and falling on the floor, but now I'm asking you to leave."

"She attacked me!" Shadowmere responded, trying not to shriek. "She flipped your tabl-"

"I know," Erina said, holding up a hand. "But she's my regular and I know her money's good. If you stay, she's going to keep coming back and trying to kick your ass. Please just pay your tab and go. Take the bucket of ice if you like."

"Done," Ilend said, clumsily getting to his feet and still "applying pressure" to his lowers. "Let's go Shadowmere," he said as he pulled a handful of septims from his pocket and tossed them on the table before grabbing the bucket and ice packs and making for the door. "Let's get a move-on."

"You pansy," she hissed, grabbing her pack and boot before limping to the door. "You could have at least been less of a doormat." As they stepped outside, Ilend turned back to her with a scowl on his face.

"You're welcome, by the way," he said tersely, as angry as she'd ever seen him.

"For what?" she snapped.

"Paying your bill and keeping you from getting killed," he shot back. "For starters."

"And how did you do that?" she asked, matching his snide. "Weren't you busy copping a feel on yourself?"

"Applying pressure. To the wound you gave me. And Erina is…extremely unpleasant when she's angry." His comment struck her as so asinine that she had to laugh.

"If you haven't noticed, I am too."

"The worst you've done is break Menien's hip and bust me in the balls. Every time Erina's had a strong disagreement with someone, the other party often wound up either injured or dead."

"But not by her hands." If Shadowmere were to judge by the woman's appearance, the most hands on work the proprietress had ever done was uncork a bottle of spirits.

"A number of very formidable people frequent her establishment," Ilend stated, his growing frustration evident. "And the suspects in the crimes could always be traced back to her inn."

"And it's completely out of the question that the people she had issues with were naturally quarrelsome people who might have picked other fights that they happened to have lost?"

"Some maybe," he admitted. "But not all of them. Either way you were fixing to end up in that position and between your broken foot and my crushed nuts, I don't see where either of us was in a suitable state to throw down the gauntlet." Shadowmere had to concede that point.

"Fine," she said, her stomach grumbling. "But now I'm still hungry and I'm going to be cranky."

"I'm guessing the Surilies have some food."

"Yeah, tomatoes, cheese, sweetrolls and mutton, I remember." She was in the mood for food, not nosh, and she was disgusted by mutton.

"Don't forget the wine," Ilend reminded her. "Liquid bread, that stuff." When she remained unmoved, he simply shrugged. "Of course we could just keep walking and find an inn-"

"No, we'll stay," she conceded. Staying with the Surilies had started as an excuse to piss off Ilend, but now the throbbing in her foot wasn't going to permit any more significant walking for that day. "Lead the way." She made a move to take the ice bucket from Ilend.

"Ahh…" he started, pulling it out of her reach. "I think I'll carry that if it's all the same." Shadowmere noticed that he carried the bucket against his groin, covering the wet patch there.

"Fine by me," she said. Her goal wasn't to embarrass him, only to irritate him enough to walk away. They said nothing else as they made their way to the slight incline in the road that led to the west gate. "Hang on," she said, leaning against the nearby wall. "I'm not trying that without my boot on." She cautiously eased her tender, still swollen foot into the boot, with no small amount of wincing, and started lacing.

"What kind of armor is that?" Ilend asked, surreptitiously taking another chunk of ice from the bucket and sticking it down his pants.

"Leather," she said, surprised that he couldn't tell. "No idea what kind, but it's leather."

"Does it have some kind of enchantment on it?" He got closer, inspecting her arm.

"I could elbow him in the face and call it an accident," she contemplated. "Probably; I've never tested it."

"Well, where'd you get it?" he asked, inspecting the threads. Images of walking through hot coals, running around with her sword in the air during a thunderstorm and having knives thrown at her ran through her head.

"When I was fourteen, this guy tried to rape me so after I killed him I stole the armor from him. When I had the money, I had it tailored to fit me." Ilend rolled his eyes and stood up, letting go of her arm.

"Of course, and my smallclothes are made from the skin of my first love."

"That was a great deal more than I needed to know," she said, looking up for only an instant before tying the knots in the laces.

"So was your anecdote."

"Yeah, but you asked."

"I asked where you got your armor, not for the weirdest possible explanation." Shadowmere rolled her eyes and sighed.

"Look, I found it when I was younger and had it tailored to me," she said, starting her hobble. Despite having told the truth, the truth was simply not to be believed, like so much in her life.

"Well then in that case," he said, following after her. "My smallclothes were not made from the skin of my first love."

"Why are you explaining that?" she asked, looking back at him. "I fully realize yours is the only skin on your body." Ilend shrugged.

"Just wanted to make sure you knew that you're not traveling with a psychopath. There are some strange people out there."

"Believe me, I realize this," she said, remembering some of the people she had known over the years. "Let's just get to the Surilies, get some food and get drunk." Ilend sighed heavily.

"I would agree with you completely, but for the first item on that list," he said, his voice dragging its feet.

"No one's ordering you to come with me," she reminded him with more than a little hope in her voice.

"Actually I was ordered to go with you," he corrected her. "So we're together for the long haul."

"Great. All I wanted was to get to the priory without tearing my hair out," she lamented as she walked out the gate and into a near sea of green. On either side of the path, there were high grasses and wildflowers, amidst the plowed fields of the wineries that were oddly close to one another considering they were in direct competition with one another.

"It's on the right," Ilend said. As they, less than nimbly, vaulted the wooden fence, Shadowmere caught sight of two men working in the fields of neatly lined grapes, and began to take stock.

The shorter of the two wore a black hood that, in addition to looking terribly out of place, obscured the better part of his features. What she could see was that beneath the sleeves of his blue shirt, his muscles were rippling as he worked diligently with a rake, and his clothes were soaked with a thick layer of sweat. The other was tall, dark blond and just as filthy as his brother. He was built larger, but leaner and more muscular, his brown linen shirt rolled over his sinewy forearms and the collar soaked down to the second button. And, if she were to judge by the slight glow of his pale skin, he was a Breton.

"Are they Bretons?" she murmured, moving her lips as little as possible.

"Of course," Ilend said, slightly aghast that she had to ask. "Why, does that matter?"

"I know a lot of racist jokes," she said, in all honesty. "I just need to know which ones are completely inappropriate." It was actually simple curiosity that made her inquire as to the brothers' race; it was sometimes difficult for her to see the subtle differences between Imperials, Bretons and Nords and she wanted her guess confirmed.

"Wouldn't they all be inappropriate?" Ilend asked, with an eyebrow raised. "Isn't that kind of the definition of a racist joke?" Shadowmere sighed and searched for a way to explain what she meant, lamenting that having to explain herself was becoming so frequent an occurrence.

"It's the difference between farting in someone's parlor and taking a dump in someone's parlor," she said with a juvenile sense of pride for her analogy. "Neither is appropriate, but one is kind of funny and the other is just wrong." Ilend's horrified expression was only tempered by how bright his cheeks grew, and the combination made Shadowmere want to laugh until she couldn't draw breath.

"Please don't do either," he nearly begged, his expression and voice so pitiful that Shadowmere couldn't help but give in to his request.

"Alright," she said quietly, with a nod toward the brothers. "Who's who?"

"Gaston is the one with the hood," he murmured. "Davide is the tall one."

"Good to know," she thought as Davide started walking toward them. "Why does he wear the hood?" she asked, trying to get the question in before the other brother approached. Ilend scoffed, not losing his poker face.

"He's balding and he thinks it makes him look mysterious," he snorted. Shadowmere stifled a slight giggle as the unbalding brother approached them, dusting off his hands.

"Hello folks, welcome to the Surilie Vin- Ilend?" To his credit, Ilend made a commendable effort towards looking unannoyed, but Shadowmere could see that he was displeased that the vintner remembered him so clearly.

"Davide, good to see you," he said, nonetheless, holding out his hand to shake it. "It's been a while."

"Gods, it's been ages," Davide exclaimed, shaking his hand vigorously. "Gaston, come here a minute!" As the other brother made his way over, Davide took notice of Shadowmere. "Ilend have you finally settled down?" he asked, his eyes flickering more than once down to her breasts.

"Great it's going to be one of those visits," she surmised. She wasn't naïve, she knew men were going to stare at her ample bosom, but it was always frustrating when she constantly had to remind them where her eyes were. "Not in his wildest dreams," she scoffed, holding out her hand. "I'm Shadowmere." The man smiled as he kissed her hand.

"Davide Surilie," he said, his voice smooth as Cyrodiilic Brandy. "Trust me when I say you're much easier on the eyes than anyone Ilend ever brought before."

"Ilend Vonius!" The hooded brother called hurrying closer before Shadowmere could respond. "Gods man, where have you been?" he asked, shaking his hand and clapping his shoulder with perhaps a bit too much verve.

"Working," he said simply, wincing a little. "The life of a city guard doesn't allow much time for visiting old friends." He visibly struggled to say the word "friends" in a genuine manner.

"And who's the lovely lady?" Gaston's eyes mimicked his brothers, darting between her eyes and rack. Over her many years, the phrase "men are pigs" had been uttered many a time, sometimes by women, sometimes by men. Times like these reminded her why the sentiment had survived the ages.

"I'm Shadowmere," she said as he curled his fingers uncomfortably around hers.

"Ilend, well done," Gaston said, elbowing him just a bit too roughly. She rolled her eyes.

"I'm not his woman," she said firmly. "He's only here because he's following orders." The two brothers chortled slightly.

"Is that what we're calling it?" Gaston asked, his voice struggling to keep from breaking as he and his brother shared odd looks.

"She's serious boys," Ilend followed up. "My superior ordered me to accompany her to and from Weynon Priory." The brothers shared a look that plainly said they were doubtful of his allegation.

"Well, no matter," Davide said. "Come, it's just about quitting time; let's go back to the house, we'll have a drink and catch up." Davide offered Shadowmere his elbow which she cautiously accepted.

"It's like walking with a starving mountain lion," she realized, keeping an eye on the man beside her as well as his brother walking awkwardly close behind them.

"So my dear," Davide said, trying to keep her attentions. "From where do you hale?"

"I'm not one to put down roots," she said, not eager to give him a way to track her down. "I've lived long enough in all the counties to be able to call myself a citizen of them all. Plus some time in Morrowind." Davide did a double-take that, to Shadowmere, almost looked genuine.

"How is that possible?" he asked, with astonishment. "You look like you're only about twenty-five years old!" She shrugged, ignoring the blatant flattery.

"I've crammed a lot of living into my years," she said coyly, avoiding the unasked question of how old she actually was. It wasn't as though she felt any real need to hide her age, but these two seemed nosy enough to pry into her life and it was just too complicated. Sometimes she just wanted to tell her life story without reservation or regret. Alas, this would not be the time.

"Beg pardon," Davide cut in on her melancholy. "But are you limping?" For a moment she had forgotten her injury, but his question brought it screaming back.

"Yeah, broken foot," she said quickly, wanting to give as brief an explanation as possible. "I jumped off a pile of rubble and landed wrong."

"Oh you poor thing!" he exclaimed, making a show of putting her arm around his shoulder and his arm around her waist. "Let's get you inside where you can rest." As much as she didn't want to be fawned over, particularly by any of the men in her company, she could definitely use her injury to her and Ilend's advantage.

"That'd be great," she said, allowing him to feel like a hero. "Ilend has my ice bucket, but I wish I had something to dull the pain a little." From behind her, Shadowmere heard Gaston let out a short laugh.

"My dear," he said, putting his hands on her shoulders. "We can not only dull your pain, we can make you forget you have a foot!" She smiled, feigning a pathetic demeanor.

"Dumbasses," she thought with a satisfied smirk. "Much obliged, but we still have to find a place to stay tonight. We've already been told we can't stay at the West Weald Inn."

"Oh don't be silly, you'll stay with us!" Davide said firmly. "We'll even let Ilend stay too." Ilend did his best to look pleased and amused, but in Shadowmere's opinion he looked as though he was doing everything in his power to not projectile vomit.

"Well, Dibella must really love me today," he said through gritted teeth and a forced smile. Gaston laughed aloud and grabbed Ilend around the neck, giving him a noogie as though he was a kid brother.

"And not to worry my dear," Davide said, patting Shadowmere on the hip, giving her the urge to impale his sinuses with her fist. "We don't live too far from the gate." Shadowmere breathed an exaggerated sigh of relief.

"That's good, I've been walking all day," she said as they walked through the wide open western gate. "All the way from Kvatch."

"Good heavens! And Ilend didn't think to offer you a lift or find a horse to borrow?" Gaston asked, punching Ilend in the shoulder. "Vangogh would have been more than willing to let her ride."

"Hard for a dead horse to carry anything," Ilend scoffed as they walked up a slight incline from the central path.

"I'm going to get an ulcer if I don't get to punch something soon," Shadowmere decided, Ilend's comment reminding her why she didn't care for his company.

"You know, I forgot you live right across from the Two Sisters," Ilend added before the brothers could comment on the death of the horse. "We could just stay there tonight after we visit fo-"

"Uh-uh," Davide said, turning his head to face Ilend. "You guys are ours for the night." Feeling camaraderie with Ilend for the first time, Shadowmere shared a terrified look with him as they both wondered if they had misunderstood the brother's hospitality. Releasing his hold on Shadowmere's arm, Davide pulled a key from his pocket and unlocked the door of a modest townhouse. "Right this way," he said, helping her into the foyer.

The back door directly was directly across from the front door, and the narrow entryway led to a fair sized kitchen. The kitchen had a table and two chairs, in addition to a couple of cabinets and a door to the basement.

"Home sweet home," Gaston said, visibly relieved that the working day was done. Though she had never had a real house of her own, Shadowmere was unimpressed with the brothers' home.

"Not much in the way of entertaining space, eh boys?" she said, meeting eyes with Davide's.

"The living space is on the next floor," he said with a smile. "I'll give you a lift up the stairs." Without giving her time to protest, Davide scooped up Shadowmere and headed to the stairs, concealed behind a partial wall. As he made a move to go up the first step, to Shadowmere's horror, he didn't keep a watchful eye on her dangling legs and smashed her foot against the wall.

"Ga-ah!" she grunted, clutching her now throbbing foot. "What the hell?" Davide was immediately penitent, and took a moment to make sure she wasn't going to punish him physically.

"Oh, well done Davide," Ilend shot, inexplicably upset for something that hadn't happened to him. "Maybe once we get to the top, you'd like to throw her down the stairs." Gaston chortled, though Shadowmere hoped that Ilend was kidding.

"I'm so sorry, are you alright?" Davide asked her, sounding genuinely remorseful. "These stairs are a lot narrower than I thought they were."

"It's an easy mistake," she groused, not wanting to make him unhappy while he was still carrying her. "It's not like you live here or anything." As they reached the top, Davide was extremely vigilant to make sure he didn't make such a terrible faux pas again. The floor was mostly open, with a room to the left, where Davide headed.

"Gaston, move the bench so we don't have to shout to talk to one another," he said, the other brother doing as he was asked before Davide put her down on the bench. "Let me get you a pillow or two," he said, hurrying out of the room and up another flight of stairs.

"I'll just head upstairs and clean up a bit," Gaston said, heading for the door. "We'll be down in just a few minutes, but make yourselves at home." He turned and headed out the doorway and when the sound of feet going up the stairs was plain to hear, Ilend looked directly at Shadowmere.

"Do you believe me now?" he whispered harshly, his eyes wide and his face filled with obvious frustration. "They're the biggest horses' asses in the city!"

"Look, I won't fight you on that matter," she admitted quietly. "They've done nothing but stare at my boobs and try to re-break my foot. But they're giving us free lodging and free booze. I really like free."

"Don't get me wrong, I'm as cheap as the next man," Ilend started. "But this is something that I'm more than willing to shell out the money for." She was tempted to just make Ilend pay for a room, but there would be no way to make him finance her future hangover.

"Look, what's the worst they can do?"

"Get one of us drunk and take advantage," he answered immediately. "I've seen them do it before and I have to believe they've done it since I worked here."

"Let them try and lay a hand on me," she sassed. "They're going to pull back nubs." Ilend laughed and covered it quickly with his hand.

"I was actually a little more worried for myself than for you," he scoffed. "I know you can take care of yourself."

"Should I be offended by that?" she wondered, knowing he respected her strength but wasn't concerned for her safety. "No, it's not like I give a crap about him," she realized, shaking away the thought. "Okay, if they make a move on you, then we'll go somewhere else," she said, making the only concession she was willing to. Ilend rolled his eyes and scoffed.

"Great, thanks for that," he muttered. "Look just don't ask me to fight them off for you."

"Ditto," she said, crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow, inviting him to comment further. Ilend instead played the strong, silent type. "More like a mousy, mute type," she thought with spite. She couldn't begin to understand why her thoughts had again drifted toward such animosity toward Ilend, but it didn't bother her enough to think about it as she heard the footsteps coming down the stairs.

"Back and freshly laundered," Davide said, his hair now combed, his clothes clean and his scent much less manure-y than before.

"He looks almost doable," she decided. "Almost." In addition to looking far more presentable he carried a pillow under his arm that he brought over to Shadowmere's side.

"I'll try to do this right this time," he said, kneeling by her feet. "Without bashing it against the wall." He hoisted her foot indelicately and the resulting throb of pain made her grunt.

"You're not awarding a lot of confidence," she told him, taking the pillows and putting them under her foot. "No offense, but my feet have been through enough in the past few days." Davide looked miffed, but covered it with a quick smile.

"None taken, but is there anything I can do to help?" he asked. "I'm just trying to make up for the stairs thing."

"He looks like he actually means it," she considered, noting the wide eyes and lifted eyebrows. "You could make me an icepack," she suggested. "Ilend could I have the ice bucket please?" She asked with an abundance of sweetness in her voice.

"Just take what you need, I'll hold it," he snapped, tightening his hold on the buckets rough rope handle, his scowl saying he knew her intentions.

"Ilend, don't be silly," Gaston said, returning to the room and ignorant of the subtext between his two guests. "Sit down and take a load off." He had changed his clothes, wiped the dirt from his face and had put on a clean black hood.

"How many of those does he have?" she pondered, envisioning a drawer filled with black hoods of varying wear and tear. Before Ilend could protest Gaston's demands, Davide snatched the bucket, leaving his awkwardly soaked pants in full view.

"Were you that nervous about seeing old friends Ilend?" Gaston asked, raising an eyebrow.

"It's…it's not what it looks like," Ilend stammered as his cheeks flushed. "Someone in the room hit me in a rather unsporting manner, so I filled my pants with ice, which has since melted." Unfairly satisfied with herself, and the blushing fool she had made of Ilend, Shadowmere took the bucket and allowed Davide to make a packet of ice, like the one she had made at the inn, and put it against her foot like a peace offering.

"Well, didn't she get a finder's fee?" Davide asked, a sly look crawling from his mouth outward. "You know? For finding your boys?" Shadowmere bit her tongue, but a subdued laugh still managed to slip out.

"I know what you meant Davide," Ilend snapped. "I was merely trying to recall how much you paid Gaston for the same service." Short of getting her fist lodged in her larynx, nothing would have stopped Shadowmere's shocked blast of laughter at prudish Ilend's salty comment. Meanwhile, Davide rolled his eyes though his fierce blushing indicated Ilend's comment hit the mark.

"So you mentioned that you had something that would make me forget about my foot?" she piped up, hoping the Surilies wouldn't retract their offer of free booze and lodging. Of course for all she knew, that's what Ilend had been trying to accomplish. "Clever bastard."

"Of course my lady!" Gaston was evidently also hoping to move the conversation along. "Davide, get a bottle of the 399," he said, gathering wine glasses from the cabinet.

"Gaston, this early?" Davide asked, aghast. "We only just stopped working! Only Agnete drinks like that!"

"The woman's in pain!" the hooded brother said, gesturing toward Shadowmere, who aimed to play the part.

"Oh!" she groaned, grabbing her foot. "So much pain!" Ilend gave her a derisive look and rolled his eyes at her blatant over-acting.

"See?" Gaston said with satisfaction. "Plus, if we drink the good stuff first, it'll get us tipsy enough to not care that we're drinking the cheap- newer vintage."

"Alright, alright!" Davide sighed, heading reluctantly for the cellar. "I can see I'm outnumbered in this matter."

"I doubt I'll be able to tell the difference sober," Shadowmere murmured to no one in particular.

"Oh great," Ilend muttered, sinking cautiously into a chair as Gaston turned abruptly to her.

"Shadowmere," the vintner said with forced cordiality. "Can you tell the difference between water and cat piss?" She raised an eyebrow at the analogy.

"Not by taste, but in theory, yes."

"Alright, that's the difference in our wines."

"So one tastes like water and the other like cat piss?" she asked. "I can't say I'd like drinking either one."

"I meant metaphorically," Gaston asserted quickly, his face flustered. "Our wines are nothing like those substances."

"I'm not the one who made the comparison," she said throwing up her hands defensively. "You're the one who brought up the cat piss."

"Hey who wants to hear a joke?" The awesome randomness of Ilend's outburst was enough to strike both Gaston and Shadowmere dumb.

"Great, so this imp floats into a tavern and sits himself on the bar.

'Barkeep, whiskey!' he yells. And the innkeeper slides him a glass which is like a horse bucket for the little chap, and he dunks his head in the whiskey. In the meantime, this Nord walks in. Big man, looks like he's worked down on the dirt farm all day and he sits at the bar, holds out his hand and the barkeep slides a tankard of grog down to him. About that time, the imp gets up and pushes the empty glass away and flies down the length of the bar, stops in front of the Nord, stares at him, hacks and spits in the man's face. The Nord is shocked, but he's just exhausted and the imp just goes down the bar and the Nord decides to just let it go and enjoy his drink. The imp orders another drink and drinks it down and comes wandering down, half flying and half walking. He stops in front of the Nord again and the Nord thinks,

'No he wouldn't.' In fact he would; the imp spits in his face and makes his way down to his spot and orders another whiskey. Now the Nord is on his guard, he watches the imp while he drinks his way to the bottom of the glass, staring back at him through the bottom of the glass. The Nord thinks to himself, 'boy, if he thinks he's coming down here again, I'll fix his wagon.' Well sure enough, the imp finishes his drink and stumbles and staggers down the bar. He stops in front of the Nord and he starts hacking a wad to beat all wads and as he's about to spit, the Nord grabs the little bastard by the throat.

'Lad, you better listen good. You spit at me again and I will snap your little pecker off.' The imp just giggles and says,

'Well, good luck big boy, 'cause I haven't got one.' Well, this shocks the life out of the Nord and he says,

'Well, damn boy, among other things, how do you piss?' The imp smirks and…" Ilend pantomimed spitting in Gaston's face.

"So…the whole time…he was…?" Gaston said, a shocked smile on his face. Ilend nodded as Shadowmere had already started laughing hysterically.

"What's so funny?" Davide asked, coming up from the cellar and wiping off a bottle with a rag. "Gaston, you didn't tell them about the…thing…did you?" Gaston's eyes widened with horror as he gave his head a slight shake, causing both men to blush furiously.

"What color is it and how many bottles of illness cure did it take to get rid of it?" Shadowmere asked with all seriousness. The shades of red the two men turned defied any color Shadowmere could put a name to.

"Three," Davide murmured, as Shadowmere let out an impressed whistle.

"Astounding; what were you doing and have you told the other party involved?"

"Anyway," Ilend said moving past Shadowmere's less than appropriate inquiry. "How's the winery been treating you two?"

"Well, sales have been good lately," Davide said, uncorking the now dust-free bottle. "The Emperor dying has done wonders for business."

"I'm sure he and his murdered family would be glad their deaths helped boost liquor sales," Shadowmere muttered discretely behind her hand while Davide poured the wine. Ilend's brow lifted as if to say he agreed with the comment only they could hear.

"So where are you stationed these days?" Gaston asked, handing out the goblets to Shadowmere and Ilend before taking one for himself.

"Kvatch," Ilend said, almost as though he wished it wasn't true, and took a drink. As Shadowmere took a cautious swallow, she watched the Surilies wince and shake their heads.

"I didn't think there were any survivors," Davide murmured. "God's blood, how'd you get out of there?"

"Maybe he's responsible," Gaston snickered, evidently unable to hold even a sip of the special vintage. Ilend's eyes narrowed, his mood worsening as though someone had thrown a switch.

"Yeah Gaston," he said, his voice scathing. "I opened a gate to Oblivion, chased out a bunch of daedra and laid waste to the town I've served for almost twenty years." Sensing his comment was ill received, Gaston struggled to make it right.

"Come on Ilend, it was a joke! I never meant to offend!" By the look on Ilend's face, he'd failed miserably.

"Just like I never meant to knock out some of your favorite teeth?" Shadowmere sighed and put her face in her palm; every time she thought she no longer had to worry about Ilend having the opportunity to mouth off to one of the Surilies, one of the brothers would kick the door open and invite him in. "He's justified this time." "Alright, my turn," she cut in and blocked the hypothetical doorway before Ilend could make good on his threat. "I never had a pet." The three men looked at her like she had something hanging from her nose. "It's a game," she explained, glad they were focused on something else. "I say 'I never' something. If you did whatever it is I said I've never done, you take a drink. So, if you've ever had a pet, take a drink." Sharing a quizzical look, their disagreement forgotten for a moment, the three men each took a sip from their respective goblets. "Alright Davide, your turn." Davide seemed puzzled and took a moment to think over the task Shadowmere had just laid at his feet.

"I never broke a bone," he said at last. Ilend, Shadowmere and Gaston each took a swallow, and Davide looked relieved that his contribution had been successful.

"Alright, Gaston's turn," Shadowmere said. The younger man swirled the wine around the glass pensively.

"Umm…I've never visited another country?" he offered.

"Yes you have!" Davide yelped, nearly leaping off the desk where he had seated himself. "We went to High Rock for cousin Sebastian's wedding a few years ago!"

"Oh I forgot about that!" Gaston looked like he had committed a mortal sin. "What do I do now?"

"It's alright, it just means you drink too," Shadowmere explained, having already taken her sip.

"Oh, so we can do that?" Ilend asked, taking a swallow. "If we can't think of something, we can just say something we've done?"

"Yeah, but the goal is to be the one who stays sober the longest," Shadowmere explained. "And it's your turn." Ilend sighed and thought a moment.

"I never fell in love," he said. Shadowmere scoffed at the asininity of the comment as both brothers were the only ones to imbibe. "Sad commentary, that," Ilend added quietly.

"I never licked a flagpole in winter," she stated, and chortled as all three men reluctantly nipped at their goblets.

"I…never knocked out anyone's teeth," Davide said, getting into the swing of things. This time, it was she and Ilend who had to drink.

"I never smuggled skooma," Gaston offered. Tipsy enough to not care that she was confessing to a crime in front of a city guardsman, Shadowmere alone took a sip.

"You did?" Davide asked incredulously. "Why would you?" Shadowmere shrugged.

"I was young and needed the money." In actuality, she had been a horse and had her saddlebags stuffed with illegal substances. For whatever reason, Davide nodded sympathetically.

"Ah, I know how that is," he added.

"I would pay great amounts of money to not know what he did for money," she concluded.

"I never threw up on a stranger." Ilend smirked as he was the only one who was able to sit out that round.

"Have you thrown up on anyone you did know?" she asked, having taken her liquid penance.

"That's not at all relevant," he stated sharply.

"I never threw up on anyone I know," she quickly retorted, taking her turn and deliberately saying something she'd done. "On several occasions." All members of the drinking party drank, Ilend more reluctantly than the rest. "Yeah, that's what I thought," she smirked.

And so the game went on, hour after hour, bottle after bottle. Shadowmere found that she was having to drink a great deal more than her companions, but she handled her chemical handicap considerably better.

"I never ate a bug," Davide muttered, now lying on the floor with his feet on a chair, and watched Shadowmere and Gaston drink.

"I'm assuming kwama count," she stated, only after taking a swallow.

"What's a kwama?" Gaston asked from where he laid on his belly on the floor.

"Big edible bugs from Morrowind," she said, somewhat surprised that anyone didn't know what they were. "Not great, but not bad if it's cooked right." She chortled as she

"I never put someone's hand in warm water to make them pee themselves. Damn it!" Gaston had demonstrated throughout the night that he had no clue how to properly play the game as he continually had to drink for his own questions. In this case, he was joined by Ilend and Davide, but there had been times when he had drunk alone on his turn.

"You guys are disgusting," Shadowmere slurred. Despite her ability to hold her liquor, the wine and beers had joined forces and were laying siege to her brain.

"You know what's worse?" Ilend asked, struggling to refill his goblet with the remains of their fourth bottle of wine. "These two did it to me. On the same night."

"And then this chucklehead," Davide said, shoving Ilend and causing him to spill a bit of the wine from the bottle. "Did it to both of us the next night."

"Just one big happy, urine soaked family," Shadowmere sighed, now uncomfortable with the idea of sleeping in any bed in the Surilie house. "Ilend take your turn."

"I never had sex in my sibling's bed." With what looked like a modicum of shame, Davide drank, as Gaston's jaw landed somewhere in the basement.

"You- in my bed?" Gaston squawked, Shadowmere laughing heartily at the girlish noise. "What was wrong with your own?"

"It was soaked in piss," Davide answered, matter of factly. "You cleaned yours up quick and then spent the night somewhere else."

"Damn it Ilend, this is your fault!" Gaston whined.

"I never felt homesick," Shadowmere yawned, noting that her goblet was empty. "I'm just going to fake drink from here on out," she decided, lacking the energy to reach for the bottle to refill her glass.

"That's not possible," Ilend contested after swallowing his mouthful.

"Yes it is. If it weren't I'd be drinking along with you. Note the lack of drinking."

"I never had sex with a Dunmer," Davide said, raising an eyebrow suggestively. The comment served to quickly add a heavy dose of sobriety to Shadowmere's demeanor.

"Neither did I," Gaston said, he and Davide leering at Shadowmere. "But ask me again tomorrow." He pushed himself up to his knees and shuffled over to where she sat, somehow managing to get to his feet.

"If the answer is no tonight, it'll still be no tomorrow," Shadowmere spat, observing that Ilend was sitting straighter than he had been moments earlier.

"Oh come on," Davide pressed, walking his fingers up her arm to her shoulder. "We're all drunk enough that it won't matter tomorrow."

"You guys go ahead then," she responded, sharply flicking his hand away from her. "But I'm not joining."

"But you're so gorgeous!" Gaston slurred, the words somehow finding their way past his wine-addled tongue. "What man wouldn't want you?" As he spoke, he "stumbled" and fell on top of her, his hands desperately trying to break his fall by grabbing for her breasts.

"What does the word 'no' mean to you guys?" she shouted, shoving him back and slapping him across the face. "I said no and I meant it!"

"Maybe we need some kind of payment for letting you stay with us and drink our wine," Davide snarled, his attitude drastically changed. Shadowmere felt her fingers automatically curling into a fist.

"Boys, the woman said no." Ilend's voice coming to her rescue was hardly what she expected, but for once she was glad to hear it. He was on his feet, either ignoring or ignorant of the dampness still hanging in his crotch, and his arms were crossed as he put on what Shadowmere assumed was his "guard face."

"Oh this isn't your jurisdiction Vonius, just relax," Gaston snapped, still rubbing his face as he brushed off the veiled warning.

"I have but to mention this to my friends in the guard here," Ilend said quietly, his eyes narrowing and his voice calm and cool. "And you boys would lose your livelihood and what little remains of your reputations." The brothers looked at each other with furious and defeated expressions, while Shadowmere took the opportunity to grab her bucket and her bag before hopping toward the door.

"Fine," Davide hissed, crossing his arms and glaring at the two now unwelcome guests. "But you're not sleeping in the house bitch."

"Believe me," she said, making for the stairs while Ilend gathered his belongings and followed her. "I've made my peace with that." Davide rolled his eyes and sighed in exasperation.

"I was talking to Ilend," he stated. "But you're no longer welcome here either, you emasculating, frigid cow."

"Yeah," she called, already limping down the stairs. "Have fun diddling your brother in your piss soaked bed, you pervert!"

"Screw you, harpy!" He shouted back, the stink of liquor on his breath almost reaching her nose from the top of the stairs.

"You'd never survive it!" she yelled, just as she opened the front door. What he yelled back was incoherent, both from his drunken lips and to her drunken ears, so she simply staggered out the door, nearly slamming it on Ilend's nose.

"Didn't I tell you?" he yelped, his cheeks flushed bright red. "What did I tell you about them?"

"Alright, fine you're right!" she snapped back, the alcohol making a last minute push in her system and draining the energy out of her. "Look, I just want to go to sleep, I don't care where you sleep, but leave me alone!" Making her way toward the gate, she realized that Ilend was doing the opposite of what she asked. "Go. Aways." She didn't care that she had added a letter to the last word, or that Ilend was scowling as he trailed her.

"I'm not letting you out of my sight!" he grumbled. "So find a place to crash and I'll find somewhere where I won't bother you." Shadowmere sighed as she pounded on the now closed city gates.

"Fine, I don't even care anymore," she spat, wracking her brain for places to sleep where Ilend would be less likely to follow. "Open the gate!" she yelled impatiently, even as the guards on duty pushed the enormous doors open.

"Lady," one said in a warning tone. "The only reason that we're not hauling you off to the drunk tank is because you're leaving. Don't make us rethink the choice."

"I'll rethink your face!" she said, even as Ilend boldly pushed her out the gate.

"Thanks Ilend," the other guard said with relief.

"Oh why don't the two of you just get a room!" she snipped, jerking her shoulder away from Ilend's touch.

"Alright, that's enough," he said, crossing his arms once they were out the gate. "If you're so intent on being alone, go find somewhere to sleep it off. I won't follow you."

"You'd better not!" she threatened, not even totally sure what he had said, thought she did know she was still fighting with him. With that, she turned away from the massive oak gate and tottered down the path, rain starting to fall from the sky.