The arrival of the exquisitely neat written letter had taken the half orc by surprise, he recognised the handwriting, yet after the rather colourful evening two days ago it came as a heavy surprise that the fleeing assassin would attempt to contact him after that stunt.. Bjarke was no stranger to violence, but seeing someone he considered a close friend getting murdered by someone he..considered even closer, was upsetting even for his tough hide. That was Haerendil, he was sure of it, he could recognise that mer's voice- and specifically cursing, a mile away, and he had that gaunt attractiveness that he recalled in wistful sorrow as being slender and smooth to the touch.

Like the fool he was, he had decided to see where following the letter's instructions got him, he could practically hear his orcish mother cursing his common sense as she did when he let his thoughtless rashness take charge. Bjarke gave an audible sigh as staring at the serene and soft patter of the autumn leaves hovering and rolling in the wind seemed to grant him no comfort nor distraction. He hated waiting for something bad to happen, and mentally he imagined that same cruel elven dagger piercing through his own chest. He had not even thought to put on any armour aside from thickened hide and leather, and that would not save his sorry green tinted skin from a blade forged with high elven magic.

In fact, even more of an issue. Haerendil was a Thalmor now, while the mer had spoken against the intimidating high elven faction in the past, what had happened had obviously changed his political opinions or made him that desperate. Even as..something of a Stormcloak. However, Bjarke recalled briefly in sour memory that their clashing factions-or rather races, was one of the reasons Haerendil had been humiliated so revoltingly and inhumanely by his 'kin'. The memory was quickly tossed aside, brushed to be dwelt on later..

The sudden emergence of a figure clad in black with gilded threads took him by surprise and his hand almost instinctively whipped to take one of the battleaxes at his side, though he hesitated long enough to recognise the same figure from two days prior. Bjarke let off a heavy breath as he returned his arms in a more relaxed position, trying to do his best to show he meant no threat. Even as his mind fired with warning signals and instincts, his mind alone was all that remained guarded, for his fool heart was ...thankful even to see the spritely altmer, even after all that had happened.

"Haer.." He murmured in some sappy sense of relief, his tusks pressing against his upper lips in a saddened smile before he frowned, lowering his head and eyes in heavy guilt- regardless of the obvious danger that the- now Thalmor possessed towards him.

A cold snort came from the figure, and he could hear the sound of fine elven cloth being moved around as he barely caught the altmer removing his hood and mask. Bjarke knew this mer well enough to know a storm was brewing in his mouth as a rigid silence that had the half orc wishing he had an elf's ability to twitch his ears down like a rebuked cat.

"You….I've recited speeches for the day we finally met again, for when I saw you, a miserable coward, bleating before me with excuses." The altmer began, voice cutting through him like a freshly sharpened ice, he could hear laboured breathing from the high elf, rage and hurt radiating off him almost physically.

Bjarke had naught to say in response however, not even lifting his head as he stood motionless, letting the altmer say his peace.

"Do you have any fucking idea how much it hurt? I ask rhetorically of course, how could you understand, you just had to watch while they tore me up, - ruining fucking… everything about me!" Haerendil shouted, fists curled as he continued pacing madly, brows curled teeth clenched, those pointy elven ears flattened with emotion. The half orc grimaced when he heard that crack in the altmer's voice,the guilt in his heart felt like it dragged at his feet, much as he felt he had words to say on the matter, Bjarke full heartedly believed he deserved the rebuke no matter what he had done to try and stop what had...happened to his lover.

The sudden feel of slender fingers gripping his bearded jaw to look at the figure who stood at his collarbone. The half orc complied, pale eyes looking at the scarred face of Haerendil, now with no mask or hood on, he could see the full extent of the scars that remained, and shock him they did.

The eyepatch from before was pulled back, revealing the hollow hole of what was once a beautiful almond shaped eye that was always aglow with mischief and quick wit. There was nothing but a morbid scarred mess now, and the knife marks reached onto his angular cheek and across his honey blonde brows. His right ear was severely scarred, a prosthetic replacement expertly stitched into the seam where it had been cut off, though the remnants of the damage remained, and one could tell the muscles that allowed them to move were just that little bit slower. There were other marks were lesser wounds were. Bjarke's roughened features softened in sorrow as he dared to look into the gleaming eye that remained.

He could feel the altmer's gloved hands shaking, he could see the hot glaze of wetness that went over his eye, and it killed the half orc inside to watch one he had known to be so refined and proper to be so utterly changed and broken as a person.

"My face isn't the only scarred item of course, 'bet you would love to see what those…..t-they… did to my body.." The altmer spat with raw hateful vitriol, his chest heaving. The Half orc could take no more and decided to speak up, pressing his far larger hands on the lean set elf's tensed shoulders, holding him gently, but firmly- enough to hopefully prevent immediate violent impulses from the other.

"Haerendil...There's nothing I can say that can really convey how sorry I am, and..'m aware that ain't even an appropriate response.. There is'n an excuse I can make.. All that happened..I tried, but Trinimac knows I wasn' strong enough to intervene..And I don't think I'll stop regretting that till time ends..I blame myself, you blame me, I can't fault you for that." Bjarke poured out in guilty sorrow, his voice remained sturdy enough but he felt his heart sink, he tried his hardest to maintain eye contact, difficult as it was and as hard as he felt his tusks tensely pressing against his skin.

Haerendil was silent for a long moment, and though he turned to hide it, the tear that ran across his severe angled features was not missed, a grimacing scowl was given as he shut his eyes, confliction seeming to run through the altmer's mind, before he pressed his head to the orc's broad chest, banging a fist against Bjarke's torso in frustrated defeat before his fingers uncurled.

"Gods fucking dammit.." The elf swore- half muffled by the fur covered hide armour. Tensely beginning to idly scratch his slender fingers into the half orc's clothes. Bjarke almost snorted with wistful amusement, recalling very deeply the familiar mannerism the altmer so often gave when frustrated. However his heart still ached, and he shifted, carefully as he could attempting to gently pat the other's back.

"I'm not expecting ye' to come back to me at all..But if there's absolutely anything I can do to ...help or prove my apology, just say 'aight? " The half orc rumbled softly, eyelids drooping slightly as he swallowed, his fool heart feeling that familiar pang of adoration for the altmer, even in spite of the circumstance. It was a good long while before the elf responded, Bjarke did not push him to speak however, merely keeping his eyes on the honey blonde haired altmer and their surroundings, his large-if not clumsy (if he did so say himself) attempting to caress the hard lean back of the shorter high elf.

"..Meet me at the Bee and Barb tonight..we'll..talk more, gods know there is a lot more to talk about..But.." Haerendil trailed off, his remaining eye was reddened from his earlier burst of emotion, and even now his voice was still uncharacteristically static and slowed. A deep sigh was given, that beautiful pale golden eye averting to the side as the altmer bit his lips. Bjarke himself let off a slow exhale as he nodded, his mind was a flurry of emotions and feelings, he did not egg the altmer to finish what he had to say however, merely shifting away from their touch in quiet response with a brief- tusk filled smile to assure the mer.

"'Aight I'll see ye' there, take care of yourself, Haer.." Bjarke spoke, beginning to turn, he did not give Haerendil any more stares, much as he wanted to lay his eyes back on the high elf-whom he still thought was more beautiful and intense than whoever was in aetherius, he had the sensitivity to know that the prideful altmer would wish no more stares or looks in his vulnerability.

The elf definitely had more to say, he could hear it in his breath and lips, but evidently the farewell was succinct enough to his satisfaction. The half orc did not see him leave, but he presumed he had left in the same way he came in that menacing magic disappearing move.