They would sit sideways on the windowsill for hours, weaving endless streams of riddles and conundrums, her back to the tuff wall which scraped fabric and skin alike, and his to her chest, eyes half-lidded, one leg dangling from the rough hole in the stone they called a window. Back then, his good quality lamps looked like a great luxury in their eyes: soft lights in vibrant hues, giving the room the appearance of a cheap club, with dark corners, ruined walls covered with bright drapes in reds and purples. An old alchemy lab sat against the wall, with ingredients upon ingredients stacked on the shelves, filling the room with thick, odd scents that lingered long after they left, sticking to their clothes. Daldryn would join them, too, at times, huddled in one corner or another, silently sharpening his blade, and so would Rala, who'd sit across from them and chime in with her own cheerful contribution, but most of the times it was only the two of them, somehow comfortable as they remained perched atop the narrow street.
They were an odd bunch, Daldryn, Rala, Arundiel, and her, the sort of kids shop owners would glare at warily and other children would snicker at – especially Arundiel, who looked remarkably out of place in the crowd, an n'wah, a gangly, golden skinned rascal amidst the ashen people. Peaceful, soft spoken, always smiling, always polite to strangers, though that only barely concealed the trace of superiority in his eyes; whether that was his blood speaking, or simple pride, she could never tell, but she enjoyed his spunk. He would not speak of his parents, but they knew he'd been taken in as an apprentice by a local alchemist, during one of his seasonal trips outside of Morrowind to gather exotic ingredients, and he was eager to learn the trade.
Rala, sweet Rala, would've been well liked, with her pretty face and her friendly, bright demeanour. It was her parentage, instead, that cast a shadow on her: her father had left years before, in order to seek fortune, and had either found more than he had anticipated, or met death instead, for no news of him had reached Blacklight in a very long time. Her mother had taken to meeting with men at odd times of the night, for money, and that, at least, kept them both fed. But jealous wives, bitter from the cold nights their husbands spent 'drinking' away from home, had kept their children away from Rala, whose only fault had been needing food and clothes to survive, and soon she'd found herself alone. Arundiel had introduced her to them, a glimpse of sunlight amidst the others: quick to laughter, she always made sure to keep everyone content.
Daldryn's curse was of a different nature: grim faced, even for a Dunmer, he was brash and wild, and quick to anger. He was an orphan, though old enough that nobody would question his presence on the street. He didn't speak much, and yet it was nearly impossible to ignore his presence, though it did not weigh on their clique like an intrusion. There was safety, in being near him, as thin as he was, safety in his nervous strength, and he enjoyed giving that to his friends; maybe a bit too much, at times. Now and then, he would come bleeding to them, bruised, and they'd know he'd been in a fight. Luckily, back then, he had no real use for that dagger he carried around.
And then, there was Falanu. Her days begun with cutting and stitching, fabric and wounded flesh alike, both jobs which required a firm hand and a watchful eye: then she'd get drunk on knowledge, whether from the thin lips of her stern caretaker, the yellowed pages of a book, or the clumsy tutelage of serjo Atheran, of whom neighbours spoke as if he was a madman. Perhaps it was because of that, after all, that the kids avoided her on the street, thinking her infected from her teacher's brand of madness, and perhaps she truly was; not that it would matter much. Alone and busy most of the time, she'd never learned how to approach boys and girls her age, and that suited her just fine. She had herself, and she had Arundiel, and Daldryn, and Rala.
But when the night grew silent and the lanterns shined at their brightest, it was just Falanu and Arundiel, sitting on the windowsill, his back to her and her hands in his, or running through his soft hair: fair, wispy waves which she envied desperately, tickling his shoulders and her lips. Her own was thicker, red, and as bright as her eyes, cut short, like a boy's, in uneven locks. Daldryn had taken to leaving them, after spending supper and the first hours of vesper with them, and his absence came more and more often. Where he went, they didn't know, but he seemed more relaxed nowadays, and less scrawny, better fed. Rala worked as hard as she could on most nights, scrubbing plate after plate for a meagre salary, far from the vicious rumours and the glares: not enough for one person to survive, but an addition to her mother's efforts that would not come unnoticed. The two of them, instead, would make the most of their free time, whispering secrets, testing each other, as if stretching their legs after sitting for hours in the same spot: now and then, she'd fall asleep on his bed without even realizing it, after they moved from the window, the lanterns fading one by one. He always woke her up before her absence could be noticed, though, with a steaming cup of herbal tea, and nary a word. Mornings were not for words.
"Tall at her youngest, she shrinks through old age, and at the feet of death she merely crawls."
"Easy", she muttered, always too quick in her speech."Too easy. That's a candle, isn't it? Are we still warming up?"
"Shut it", he chuckled, shifting against her. "It was a long day. Fine, I heard this one a few days ago... But it's in rhyme." He scoffed, rubbing his nose. Arundiel often refused to speak in rhyme, protesting that he felt ridiculous: limericks and similar things seemed to embarrass him when he was the one reciting them, much to the amusement of his friends. Sometimes Rala would leave silly little poems for him, lying about under the bowls and boxes on his shelves, and they'd pester him to read them aloud whenever he found any.
"Is it good? If it is, I want to hear it." Falanu grinned at him, as he tilted his head slightly to look up at her, frowning. "Now. We haven't got all night, you know?"
"Fine, fine... there you go..." He cleared his throat, and begun chanting, slowly. His Dunmeris had never been anything less than perfect, and yet he always took his time to share his thoughts, which in itself was an exercise in patience for Falanu. "Four old men sat down to play: they played all night 'till break of day. They played for coin, and not for fun, with separate scores for everyone. When they did come to square accounts, they all had made quite fair amounts. Can you the mystery explain? Why no one lost, when all could gain?"
She opened her mouth, as if to speak, and closed it, frowning, thinking upon his words. For a moment, he seemed proud, the smile returning to his lips as he raised one hand to run his fingertips across her hair, mimicking her movements from a little while before. Falanu, meanwhile, was staring at a lantern, her brow furrowed as she focused to find an answer.
"Silly", she muttered, still lost in thought, a weak bluff despite her attempt to seem nonchalant. "You think you've cornered me. I'm getting there..."
"Do you want me to answer for you?" He was chuckling, now, and so she shook her head vehemently, even more adamant to find a suitable solution to that riddle.
"I'll get there, give me time..."
She barely noticed as he shifted, turning to face her as he sat, his weight resting on one arm and his free hand teasing her jaw, as he drunk in the sight of her focused little frown. She barely noticed, but she shuddered as his fingertips trailed across her lips, gasping as she felt his upon them, a soft caress, his breath warm on her flesh. He took his time before he allowed his cautious touches to truly fade into a kiss: slow brushes of his lips, one hand running through her hair, as both her own twitched, torn between grasping at his shoulders and doing the same, before settling for a compromise, one for each. When he deepened the kiss, she closed her eyes, a soft murmur silenced by his mouth, and when he pulled back, she did not, her heart beating fast in her chest as they stood still. Perched atop the narrow street, like birds, they kissed again, and remained silent for a while, motionless.
"Minstrels..." She cleared her throat, opened her eyes, and tilted her head to a side, to find him staring at her, a touch of amusement in his eyes. "The four men. They played music for coin."
"Correct."
"It's not me you should be kissing, you know", she added, attempting to look calm, though there was a certain nervousness to the way her eyes flew from his mouth, to his cheekbones, and finally back again, avoiding to lock gaze with him. "Rala's pretty. You should be kissing her. It's her you want, and she wants you." A silly thing to say, but she couldn't hold it in: nothing but another half-hearted test, one she desperately wanted him to pass.
"Sometimes you're really quite dumb..." He pulled her away from the window as he stood up, seeming a little offended by her words. She couldn't blame him. They kissed again.