Onmund couldn't help but feel slightly upset that both Brelyna and J'zargo passed their exams. It wasn't that he was not happy for his friends, but the darker part of him wanted to be the only one in the spotlight today. Now he had to share it.
He sighed, disappointed in himself for feeling this way. He smiled at the khajiit and dark elf that stood with him in the Hall of Countenance's arcane enchantment room, trying to push his pathetic resentment aside.
Sergius Turrianus, the college's expert enchanter, living author of Primer on Enchanting, stood at the arcane table crafting their new gear. His enchantments were said to be the best in all of Skyrim.
"Here you are, Onmund," the bald man said with a hint of pride, turning to the waiting nord. "One adept robe of destruction, it'll help you regenerate your magicka enery double what you are able to do now, and will fortify your destruction spells." He went to hand Onmund the robe, but his hands pulled back slightly in hesitation. His eyes flicked to the robe Onmund wore now and a frown creased on his aging face.
Onmund looked down at his old apprentice robes, slightly confused. He felt his face grow hot as he remembered the entire front had been shredded by J'zargo's claws.
"Try to take care of this set, if you mind," Sergius added gruffly, thrusting the robes at the irresponsible nord. "This is the only free set you get. Next time it'll cost you 1700 septims."
"Thank you, Master Turrianus," he said, failing to hide the bashfulness in his voice.
Onmund held the crisp new set carefully in his hands, admiring its precision and enchanted, golden glow. Compared to his current robes, these were finally stitched with honey and burgundy coloring, a nice update from the gray-blue he'd been subjected to for the last few years. It wasn't that the colors themselves were what bothered him, but the titles they conveyed.
Grey-blue was for the apprentices, the same color even used for the newly inducted novices. It was the color of juveniles.
Burgundy was the color of adepts. The research students.
"Here you are, Miss Maryon," the man said, gently handing the bundle to the giddy girl. "one set of Adept Conjuration robes. It'll increase your magicka and fortify your conjuration spells." He warily watched as the Brelyna stroked the cloth, a strange little smile on her face. "Miss Maryon, I realize you are now allowed to use your magick freely on the grounds. But try to remember this liberty is intended for research purposes. We don't want a hoard of zombies unearthing below us. Again."
"That wasn't me!" She piped indignantly, though not making eye contact. "Oh, why doesn't anybody believe me!"
He turned around and began working on the khajiit's pair. J'zargo eyes were wide as he hungrily waited for his set.
"And finally," Sergius said, turning around with the last bundle, "a set of Adept Destruction Robes for J'zargo."
"Finally indeed," J'zargo said, reaching out a paw. "J'zargo gives you his thanks."
"You be careful with this to," he said, eyeing the cat-man's charred robe, "I'm serious."
J'zargo made a low purr as he greedily unfolded the outfit, holding it out to get a better look. "My color?" He said with a smile, looking at Brelyna.
"Well, it does complement your fur rather well," she said pensively.
The doors opened from the floor below. Bitter Winterhold air rushed up the spire to the loft, buffeting the trio. Brelyna skipped over to the light well, a circular hole adorned with mage lihgts that connected the floors in a loft-like manner, and looked down to see who came in. Onmund knew it was the new student upon hearing Ervine's voice.
"And this, Lilidaale," Ervine's voice echoed from below with unneeded drama, "Is the Hall of Countenance. It is where the master and expert mages live and work. If you ever need to seek counsel with one of the professors, you will most likely find them here."
"It's that new thalmor student!" Brelyna whispered loudly.
"Oh really," Onmund said rolling his eyes, "I couldn't tell." Brelyna's flinched at his sarcasm and he instantly felt bad. But really, the dark elf was too sensitive for her own good. However, he usually was able to deal with her absentmindedness nicely. Something about this new student just put him in a bad mood.
Though there was no reason for them to stay, the trio lingered on the second floor, waiting to get a better look at the new student.
Onmund's anger faltered as he watched her materialize from the stair well. The first thing he noticed was that she was tall. He snorted grudgingly. They weren't called high elves for nothing. But if she was an entire head taller than Ervine, that means she was at least five inches taller them him.
Onmund had always been bothered by his height. Nords, excluding the altmer of course, were supposed to be the tallest race, averaging about six feet. Onmund was only five-nine. That was just one inch taller than Brelyna! He couldn't stand the way high elves at the college carried themselves, always looking down on him. Literally. He avoided them whenever possible.
Though tall, Lilidaale seemed less haunting now that she was no longer with her leering family. Her pale gold skin glowed strangely in the blue mage light, giving it an almost rosy, bronze tone. He felt his throat tighten in disgust. The last thing he needed to be thinking about was how attractive she was.
Her golden eyes flicked towards the three of them, wavering for a moment as if she was sizing them up, then reverted back to her tour guide. Onmund snorted hostilely.
"Here is the university's master enchanter, Sergius Turrianus," Ervine said, introducing the two. "Master Turrianus, this is our new adept, Lilidaale. Ancano's niece."
"Adept already?" He said, crossing his arms and wearing a cordial smile. "Haven't heard of talent like that since Rennis first came here. Boy is talented, but there's something off about him…with his ability he should've become a master, or at least an expert, by now. But he refuses to show any of his research. If you don't play nice, you don't move up in rank. No matter how talented." He gave the young elf and deliberate look.
"Sergius, please." Ervine said with a sigh. Though she didn't like the idea of a thalmor student any more than the rest of the college, she was tired of all the reproach the other masters gave the girl. It was holding up her tour.
"Ahem, yes," Sergius said, smile becoming more genuine. "I assume you are here to acquire your own set of adept college robes." He reached out a hand, waiting for her papers.
The girl looked down at the crumpled scrawl she clutched, seemingly hesitant. "I—if it's all the same to you," she said carefully looking back to the bald man, "I'd like to wear my own robes. They suit me just fine."
The light left Sergius's eyes and his smile twitched. He glance at Ervine, as if asking if the girl was serious. She had insulted his life's work.
Ervine shrugged him off. "If you insist, Miss Loreoth. But this is the only time the robes will be offered to you for free."
"Money isn't a problem." Lilidaale replied.
"Then perhaps you wouldn't mind if J'zargo borrowed some." Both Onmund and Brelyna failed to suppress their short, barky laughs.
Lilidaale's eyes flashed towards the three of them, sparkling fiercely in the harsh blue light. Her glare caused both the khajiit and dark elf to flinch, but came to settle on Onmund. He refused to back down, setting his jaw set and narrowing his blue eyes. He dared her to try to scare him. The little princess thought she could flounce around and brag about her skills and wealth with no reproach? She was going to learn quickly that her new peers didn't tolerate such personalities.
"J'zargo, the college does not tolerate stealing! Don't think I won't have you put on probation again." Ervine growled, waving her hands threateningly at them. "Now, you three get out unless you have business with the other masters, otherwise I'll have you on ice-wraith extermination for the rest of the week. I don't care if you're now adepts!"
J'zargo purred at Ervine's anger and flicked his tail as he walked away, beckoning the two friends to follow. Brelyna sheepishly ran after him, her head down in embarrassment and shame, grabbing ahold of Onmund's forearm to force him to come with. He didn't break eye contact with the glaring high elf until they rounded the corner and descended down the stairwell.
Though Onmund had looked straight into Lilidaale's eyes, he had failed to notice her tears.