Disclaimer:

I only own the plot and my original characters.

A/N:

So, here's a half chapter for all of you that is much like the chapter 4.5 : In which I find momentary respite. Its written in a similar format. This is just a little something in the interim before I post the next full chapter which I am currently halfway done with.

Without further ado, enjoy!

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Chapter 7.5 - In which I am in transit

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The expanse of water before me is threateningly tantalizing. Seemingly stretched out into infinity, touching the sky and melting into Aetherius.

They call my name. But I stall - looking back ( my eyeballs flipping wetly in their sockets ( oceans reflected in my head) )

All that has happened, all that I am leaving behind - etched into my mind.

But this time leaving is not synonymous with escaping.

I cross the threshold onto the vessel that sweeps me away, adrift, above creatures with razor sharp teeth. (Predatory fish of yesterday's nightmares) I will live whatever way my destiny dictates.

Days pass, perhaps three...four? The days sink into the water under my feet (separated by mere, fragile wooden boards). Ancarion's eyes - a vibrant chartreuse- are ever watchful. I feel them on me, knowing that what I feel transcends paranoia however much I hope that it is only just that...

He is watching (or waiting?)

Not in the sinister way that an apex predator stalks their prey, but in the way a jailor oversees an inmate. It is as if he expects me to contort into some hideous monster and lash out - as if I were some violent creature.

(I turn around and see his gaze jolt to the horizon.

"Do you need something?"

He turns to one of his Soldiers and mutters ( scoffs?).)

So I try on selective mutism for size. ( I am not to be ignored, you are. ) I try to ignore his ever-watchful stare and instead focus on the sea spray whipping across my cheeks - the light, stinging pain reminding me that I am still, in fact, a part of this world. I am still among the living. No matter how isolated (separate) this glorified raft in the middle of this watery desert may be.

My long hair feels matted, my scalp is sticky. Although I have lived my entire life in a near-tropical climate, I cannot bear the light - assaulting me from all sides, from above and below - and the heat. I am constantly slick with sweat, drenched with saline, briney water - I might as well be drowning.

I tie my mane up with all the force of a vengeful Daedra. The desire to bring an end to every individual aboard this wretched ship is all-encompassing. (But perhaps it is just heat exhaustion setting in)

And I should not be finding the Abecean Seas' name's similarity to the word abyss as funny as I currently do.

( "Anvil ahead!"

"...Should I be concerned?"

I receive more than a few sideways glances and chuckles at my expense.)

Perhaps I am not fit for travel. And who in their right mind names a city Anvil?

You are fit for anything you want, Estoril, my dear.

Oh. Hello mother... No, I am decidedly not fit for travel...And how disappointing it is that the Gold Coast is hardly even gold...

On unsteady feet I clamber onto land and fall flat on my face. I pretend that I am alone, but I follow my ever-jeering group - my unwanted travel companions - from city to city, every Cyrodilic name rolling hideously off my tongue. One after another they are all a blur from the carriage's window. City, empty field, humans.( Rinse and repeat the desired number of times.) Boredom and disgust are the only sentiments that I find myself having for my new surroundings. When we reach a city at the base of the Jerall Mountains called Bruma, Ancarion pulls me aside.

( "Our journey together is coming to a close."

Happiness rises - flowing like a stream from the pit of my stomach to the top of my head, it combats the damage the cold air has done to my frost-bitten cheeks. )

The next morning

( "Farewell."" Farewell, yourself.")

I am pointed in the right direction and I set off alone. I will worry about a mount later, right now walking is blissful - my extremities, sore and cramped from disuse, are screaming. But it is necessary- and far better than stasis.

Trouble comes in the form of two figures - humans - darting out of the woods as I near the border -a third a few seconds behind them. They all barrel past me and I am utterly befuddled.

But not for long.

On horseback, a group of humans ( perhaps about ten?) charge right at me with no sign of stopping. Without any other choice, I run. My still weary limbs ( now wearier from the exertion of walking for a few hours) burn from the sudden, further strain.

As I quickly realize that I cannot hold out much longer at this pace, the lights dim ( more and more ) and the ground rises up to meet me with darkness.