Foolish. It was foolish to hide away for so long.

Torina tried to rub feeling back into her fingers as she reached for the ewer. She could barely grasp the handle but managed to do so, set it on the pedestal just long enough to open the door, and nab it again to close the space.

Night had fully fallen as she indulged in her emotions. The breakdown felt cathartic, in a way, after so much tension building in the last several weeks. For the relative quiet and purpose she'd enjoyed with the Dawnguard those first few seasons, this reminded her too much of her time spent on Solstheim fighting an ancient horror.

Hadn't she tried to hide herself away with the vampire hunters to avoid such burdens? In a space where everyone was equal and judged by their mettle and willingness to serve each other she'd found what felt like the start of a home. But trouble found her, as it always did.

She wouldn't give up her friendship with Serana for all the hardship she'd gone through, though. That was a joy she'd never had in life and she would selfishly guard it as long as Serana allowed.

Torina couldn't think of another time in her life where she had someone that meant so much to her. Though their lives were vastly different, the similar struggles of family and creed that Serana experienced now were things Torina could relate to. Empathize with. Sticking with it to the end was the least she could do to honor her friend. Even when Torina could no longer avoid the dark call from the island of Solstheim, Serana followed. She followed her the ash, the snowy peaks, and as far as she could until Herma Mora blocked her entrance to Apocrypha. But she was there to help heal Torina the moment she was freed - and Miraak was dead.

Entering the small room she shared with Serana in this icy citadel, Torina could see the pricks of orange light coming from her irises the moment she walked into the room. Serana could not sleep properly without a coffin, the complete block of ambient light, but she was currently making do with layers of cloth near her face. Just enough of her face showed, however, to watch Torina carefully as she walked into the room.

"Where have you been?" she asked.

"I had to breathe," Torina said. "I found the alchemy lab more stifling than I'd thought."

"Hmm. Gelebor was by earlier to check on your progress."

Torina narrowed her eyes, looking over her shoulder and pausing her efforts to remove the outermost layer of clothes she wore. "I'm progressing."

A soft chuckle floated from the wrappings around Serana's head. She turned on her other side to face the wall instead of Torina so she could change in relative privacy.

"I'll change the dressings on your chest wounds tomorrow morning," Serana said. "Unless you need me to change them now?"

The swift changes in conversation topics couldn't fool Torina. She talked to fill the silence and to keep Serana from asking what happened with Gelebor, if the snow elf didn't already divulge that. "Tomorrow will be fine. The fountain in the front room is starting to melt, too, so I'll test that to see if it's connected to a safe spring. We'll need water for the journey back."

"I want to stop in Morthal on the way back," Serana said.

Since she was still facing the wall, the vampire did not see Torina's reaction. She'd almost completely redressed herself in night clothes and she yanked her head through the top of her tunic so fast she almost tore out some of her earrings. Torina was careful to choose her words without scaring her friend off the topic. Her comment was said so flippantly that Torina wasn't sure what her true motives were for revisiting the hold capital of Hjaalmarch, but she could guess.

"We can make the time," she said to Serana's back.

As Torina settled into the fur-covered bed to sleep, she could hear Serana mutter a thank you.

Torina's ass still throbbed from the pain of sitting in that cold room by the time she awoke the following sunrise. Full rest eluded her the entire night. After so many straight days forcing herself to stay awake and alert in the valley full of things that only wanted to kill her she found it hard to wind back down.

Besides, there was still so much left to do.

Tying another loop of rope around her pack, Torina stood and spoke to fill the silence. "The closest hold capital once we leave Darkfall Cave is Markarth, but I'd rather try our luck at Mor Khazgur for supplies."

"The orcish stronghold?" Serana asked.

Torina worked to pack up the few items she'd collected wandering the Vale and the rest of Skyrim. Neither woman placed much worth on material things that could not help save their lives, so the packs had plenty of room to spare for more valuables on their trek back to Ford Dawnstar.

Torina nodded and answered Serana's questioning gaze. "Before joining the Dawnguard I gained their favor. Well, I gained the favor of the orcs in Narzulbur first, the stronghold in Eastmarch."

"What drove you, a dunmer, to the orsimer?"

"Desperation," Torina said. She stared down at the options she had to wear while traveling through the valley. "I don't know what was going on here in Skyrim before you were locked away in Dimhollow Crypt in regards to the mer, but living in the land of the Nords has forced other races to find ways to get past some old prejudices. As much as we can, anyway."

"Our quarrels were with everyone," Serana said, her smile wide enough to show her teeth. "We didn't discriminate based on race much in Volkihar. We only preferred clean cattle."

Torina rolled her eyes at the theatrics. "You're incorrigible."

Bright white teeth still in a flashy smile, Serana chuckled and stood to leave the room without another word. Torina finally decided on the lighter set of armor she had with her. Carrying the ebony equipment would be cumbersome, and she wouldn't have as much physical protection without it. But the leather and cloth of her lighter set had enough enchantments laced into it to keep her safe. The set was the one favored by half the Dawnguard, the fighters that favored longer ranged attacks where bodily injury was less imminent. Fighting the Falmer on the way into the Inner Sanctum called for close-quarters combat and Torina hoped to avoid that completely by using the chantry on the balcony.

Thinking of how many Falmer had fallen to her blade made the worry lines deepen in Torina's brow. So many mer lost through simple misunderstandings. The notion of the unfairness of it kept picking at her, like a spur in her boot.

More than anything the fact that another race's plight bothered her so much was why she was fixated on it. Life in Tamriel, especially in Skyrim, was short and tough, and that was if you were a Nord. Any other race faced their own sorts of challenges on top of that. She knew that better than most.

So why did she feel so much for a race that she owed nothing?

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