Breton and Bosmer

Dare you venture further?

Just here for gold	14.3%	[ 1 ]
Is this about Skyrim?	14.3%	[ 1 ]
Cool RP - the characters look interesting	0.0%	[ 0 ]
I like the story!	28.6%	[ 2 ]
What happens next?	42.9%	[ 3 ]
Total Votes:			[ 7 ]

[E is for Enigma]

Thessaly swayed a bit while Arwen rambled. She was still a little shocked that what she'd done had worked--and that Arwen had avoided whatever serious injury she could have taken from that ram. The power that she wielded was still mysterious to Thessa, and not a little frightening. But what she'd just done proved, to herself if not to the high and might gray brigade, that she could use it in some capacity for good.

"Better scrapes than cracked ribs," she agreed with the mage. "I've got a little healing magic in me, but nothing that'll take care of internal bleeding." She knew her own magical skill was like nothing compared to the Breton girl's. It was part of why she insisted on going first in any dangerous situation. Pain and injury weren't exactly things she sought out on a regular basis--but when someone else knew better how to make those stop quick, you try to keep them out of harm's way.

"Try keeping in back of me from here on out, yeah?" she scolded. "You get less dead that way. Now come on, I want to check out that door above before we head on."

[Purplish Space Rock]

Arwen shrugged and held up hands up, palms up.

"I make no promises," she said, smiling just a little. She motioned out the door and waited for Thessaly to start onward, holding the edge of the door to close it behind them. "If you like, I can school you on the field of magic and how to heal more efficiently, should you need it one day." Arwen reached up to touch the scar on her head, looking thoughtful. "Though the best teacher is real life. You might be surprised what one can do with magic in the heat of battle or out of sudden fear." Her own words made her look a little sad, but she shook her head and quickly wiped the expression off her face, it replaced by a smile again. "Yes, I'll stay behind you," she said, nodding this time. "Sorry. I'll be good."

[E is for Enigma]

Thessaly glanced back over her shoulder as she climbed out of the hallway and back up the rickety wooden ramp to the higher story.

She had to admit, learning to improve her healing skills could only help her chances of staying alive out here in this frozen country. There was no guarantee that Arwen would be around forever. And though she imagined that would end up getting her in far less trouble than in which she'd already been, this Dragonborn business was bound to draw all the wrong kind of attention. She couldn't live in anonymity forever, however much she might want to.

That's not true, part of her argued. I could just as easily ignore the coots on the mountain and just never open my mouth again. There's loads of folk who'd probably be better off for it, not least of all myself.

A vision entered her mind's eye of the bone dragons rising from their grave, growing back their flesh, and wreaking havoc on the people of Skyrim.

Well, maybe not that many.

Whatever else she did here in the north, there was no denying that she was tied to the strangeness of the dragons rising. Some greater power had deemed her worthy of the ability to reap the souls of the long-dead beasts; to protect the people of a land she had never before known.

She wished destiny had kept his hands to himself.

"Sure," she said to Arwen, of her offer to teach. "Once we get out of here, we'll live off the treasure a while. You can teach me some tricks."

She knelt by the iron door that barred their passage to the upper floor, taking out the tool kit she'd managed to put together in her spare time. While living in Whiterun, she'd had time and resources at her disposal--something she'd never had before. It had helped her discover all kinds of useful talents she didn't known she had, as well as help her to develop new ones. Thessaly had always been a fair hand at picking locks--what she'd never had before that was a set of high-quality tools to suit the task. While Thessaly wasn't sure that Adrianne approved of her more roguish tools of trade, the Nord woman was an invaluable teacher in the use of leathers. It was under her tutelage that Thessaly had crafted her first set of leather armor--and though the blacksmith had given her a strange look at the request, she had also helped Thessaly put together a thief's toolkit.

Thessa took the bundle of soft and water-resistant leathers from a stow pouch at her hip, unwrapping it carefully and extracting the appropriate wrench and pick from their individual pockets. As she tested a couple picks against the lock, she had to grin. If she'd fallen through that grate as Arwen had, not a drop would have touched her tools. Soaking leather was about as good for metal as it was for flesh, she imagined.

It took some lengthy persuasion and a couple of broken picks, but Thessaly had such a wealth of them by now that it hardly mattered. She only noticed how her hand was cramping as she went to push the door open. Perhaps a little rest was a good idea for both of them.

Thessaly made a very thorough search of the room before she let Arwen even past the doorway. It was small and didn't seem to lead anywhere, but there was an old and eye-drawing chest at its back, and Thessaly had to resist investigating it before making sure that the room was secure. Once that was done, though, she sat down to have a look at its lock.

This one was much trickier than the one on the door. She'd gone through five picks before she started to get frustrated, and eight more and a severe hand cramp before she finally gave into her temper and threw her tools on the floor.

"That's it!" she cried, and pulled out her swords. Before Arwen could do anything--not that Thessaly thought the girl would stop her, being more given to rash action than she herself was--Thessa was hacking away at the chest, blunting her blades against the thick wooden exterior and stamping at the half-rusted metal bindings. Thessa's frustration burned hot and bright, burning out quickly--but not before she'd broken through the old thing. She might not have been so lucky if the chest hadn't been sitting in the cold and damp for so long, but it gave way before her energy did, leaving the box in pieces at her feet, and revealing the contents inside.

Thessaly lay down her blades, resting her arms as she panted from the exertion and burnt-off rage.

"There," she said finally, nodding to the splintered pieces of the chest. "Firewood. Let's get a bit warmer, eh?"

[Purplish Space Rock]

Feeling a little like a naughty child, being made to wait behind Thessaly, Arwen followed along quietly, touching her little dagger. She pulled it out to hold it, suddenly feeling quite vulnerable. There was an odd sensation at the back of her neck, and she turned around to check behind them; she felt they were being watched, maybe followed. Perhaps it was just the nature of the eerie, expansive tomb that contained an air of watchful forces. Maybe it was nothing.

Arwen waited patiently as Thessaly worked on the chest lock, turning the dagger slowly in her hands, the tip on her finger. It was taking longer than she thought it would- she seemed to be a quite efficient lock pick. It made Arwen wonder how good of a pick pocket the other was. When Thessaly jumped up and began hacking at the chest, Arwen didn't move, rather surprised. She hadn't expected such anger at an inanimate object.

"Do you feel better?" she said, once the blades stopped swinging. "I'm glad we have firewood now, yes. No more leaning over fire in our hands, nope. And I can dry my boots out before they conform to my feet and become painful." She sheathed her tiny blade and bent to pick up the wood, brushing aside the destroyed lock and other metal bits. She dropped the big pieces in a pile on the floor a few feet from the chest and sat on her knees to make it look pretty, pitting the ends up against one another. They kept falling, but once it was good enough, Arwen dropped her pack and sat back on her behind, pushing it out of the way.

"Do those need sharpening now?" Arwen reach out and, her fingers sparking, touched the wood, which started small flames on the inside of the pile. The fire started dull and small, but became large and bright within a minute, crackling starting. "I have a whet stone."

[E is for Enigma]

"Aw, shut it," Thessaly replied to Arwen's jab at her temper.

It wasn't often the elf got mad like she had, but it always seemed to be at the strangest things. She'd once dislocated her arm in a fight and popped it back in with nothing more than a growl. But stub her toe walking down the road, and she'd unleash a string of curses that'd make the most hardened sailor blush. She didn't quite understand it herself, and didn't care to. It probably had a little to do with the fact she hadn't had a good lay in a while, but it wasn't like she was gonna be able to take care of that around here. Thessaly was picky about her partners, and there wasn't anyone around here suited to her tastes. Sure, the farmer lads out this way were nice enough to look at, but she liked it when there was a little more rattling around in their heads than the weather and the price of feed.

As Arewn started their fire, Thessaly poked through the more intact remains of the chest, breaking off usable pieces as she found them, until the gap was wide enough to safely get at the rather large contents within.

The glitter from her mage lights made Thessaly hopeful of the contents, but when she finally dug them out, she found that it wasn't coin or even gold at all, but some kind of gold-colored armor. The first thing she plucked from the wreckage was a golden helm with a strange leaf-like pattern to it, with many flowing ridges in its design.

"Look at this," Thessaly mused aloud. "Musta been some kinda fruity blacksmith that made these."

She pulled out the breastplate that made up part of the set of armor that had been sitting in the chest.

"Made for a man, though. Wouldn't fit either of us. Well," she amended, giving Arwen a look, then grinning at the joke before turning back to the armor. "Might fit you, anyway. Good condition, too, if it's been up here as long as that chest has."

Extracting the rest of the armor revealed that it did indeed make up a full set of the lightweight metal armor with its leaf- and feather-like patterns and tarnished gold color. There were even a pair of golden daggers to go along with it. Thessaly passed one to Arwen.

"Here, want this? Best this armor goes to fill our purses, but the daggers are sharp enough. Speaking of, I'd really love the use of that whetstone if it's newer. Mine is near worn out."

She'd forgotten to purchase a new one before leaving Whiterun, and Ivarstead didn't exactly seem the kind of place that could spare quality goods.

[Purplish Space Rock]

"Haw, haw, haw." Arwen didn't look up for some time, but she stuck her tongue out anyway. She pulled her boots off and only turned her attention upward when she was handed the dagger, which made her eyes widen. "Ooooh," she said enthusiastically. "You've not found fruity armor, you've found Elven armor!"

She got to her feet and came closer to inspect each piece, touching edges of things and brushing dust and grime off here and there.

"You've never found Elven armor in a ruin before? Nordic tombs are all over, and if you go down in a lot of them you'll find Elven armor, daggers, bows.... This land used to be populated by Mer of all sorts, hence the bits of weaponry hidden away in Nordic tombs. It's a sad testament to the actions of Nords, I'm afraid." Arwen turned the dagger around and held it out, shrugging. "I find them to be a little heavy for me, but what do I know- I couldn't save my hide in a close fight, even if the promise was gold in the end. I take no joy in carrying a pretty knife just to lose a fight with it."

Arwen got back on the ground and started removing her armor, piece by piece, and then came the robes, leaving her in just her undergarments. She didn't seem to care, as she dug around in her pack. She started to remove things from that as well, setting them all across the ground to dry out. Halfway through it, she pulled another set of robes, which she squeezed and felt.

"These aren't too wet, just a little on the one side," she muttered, shaking them out. She pulled them over her head and shifted, getting comfortable. "Much better. The others will just have to be wet, I suppose. At least leather dries off quickly, too. Otherwise I would be in bad shape, wouldn't I?" With most of the things that needed drying removed from her bag, Arwen dug around in the bottom and pulled a palm-sized whet stone out, sliding it across the floor to the other side of the fire, where she assumed Thessaly would take seat. "You can keep it if you want it," she offered, shaking her pack, which jingled merrily. "I have very little use for one. I haven't used my dagger in months."

[E is for Enigma]

Thessaly listened to Arwen's little history lesson, a slight frown creasing her brow.

"What kinds of elves made this, you think?" she asked Arwen, quietly, running her fingers over the intricate details.

Her own heritage had never interested Thessaly, much. At least, not until the Altmer had come to Chorrol. Something in her memory insisted that her mother had fled Valenwood when she was younger, but Thessaly didn't recall her talking about it. The only life that Thessaly had ever known was the one she'd had on the streets of Cyrodiil. The only family, the little band of urchins that roamed the streets of Chorrol. She'd never given much thought to what it meant to be an elf--besides what she could assume about others who looked at her and saw a thief or a b*****d or an outsider.

Somewhere, though, far in her past, had been a person not so unlike herself, who'd had the skills and the vision to craft something like this. And all she could think about was where to get the most money for it.

She shook her head. It didn't mean anything.

Thessaly put the armor down and went to join Arwen on the other side of the fire, taking up the whet stone and applying it to her blades.

"Thanks," she said. "I'll get a new one, first city we get to, and you can have it back."

[Purplish Space Rock]

"Altmer," Arwen answered quickly, busily looking inside her pack. She pulled out a small leather purse and turned it carefully upside down on the ground in front of her, and a large assortment of jewels fell out. She flicked through them, counting. "I believe so, at least. I've seen the Thalmor wearing it mostly, so I assume Altmer are the ones who make it." Once she was done with that, she reached in again and retrieved a rather large soul gem; it was glowing slightly. She finally looked up again, holding it out.

"You were wondering about enchantment, right?" She reached around the fire and slid it toward Thessaly, taking her bow off her pack. "My bow has run out of energy, and it needs recharging. Would you like to see how it's done?" Sticking her hand inside her pack again, she came out with smaller ones, each about half the size of a mug. "That one has a large, hefty soul in it, but I prefer to use the smaller souls. I use several of them, and once they're gone, they're gone, so it takes up less room in the pack when you're done. I suppose you're going to see anyway, since I should do so before we head back out. I have a feeling we're going to encounter something greater further in. I can feel it in my stomach."

Arwen scooted back from the fire and set her weapon on the ground, setting the stones in the space between the bow string and the limbs, directly next to the sight. She placed one hand on each item, and all three components glowed purple-white: the bow, gem, and her hands. It was over quite quickly- there was a flash of light, and the gem was gone, having disintegrated into the very makeup of the weapon itself. It showed veins of red again, which were brighter than before. She pulled her hands back and shook them out, cracking her knuckles.

"Done," she said with a distinct nod. "It's quite easy. I can show you how to enchant sometime. It's much easier than you think. Even those with poor magical inclination can do it their first time. You have to break something down to learn it, though, and only then can you instill power into something else."

[E is for Enigma]

Thessaly's mental image of a kindly, skilled blacksmith with tiny, charming spectacles and crows feet at the corners of his eyes quickly transformed into the ugly, pinched, golden face of a snobbish elf, more interested in perfection than craft at the mention of the Altmer. She'd be happy to sell that armor out here, where those bastards wouldn't get at it, as the grimace on her face might imply.

All thoughts of the Thalmor and the sharpening of her blade were put on hold as she watched Arwen perform the startlingly simple task of re-enchanting her bow. The process was a new one to Thessaly, and therefore fascinating. When Arwen told her she might be able to do it herself, she almost believed her.

She went back to sharpening her sword, chuckling.

"You're trying to turn me into some snooty mage, aintcha?" she accused jokingly, recalling her earlier offer to improve Thessa's healing skills. At least, she thought wryly, there was something here she wouldn't mind breaking down in the least.

"Hey," she said, nodding to the armor. "Any of this enchanted?"

[Purplish Space Rock]

With a smile, Arwen shifted and put her bow back where it belonged, sitting up on her knees.

"Nah. I just think you're capable of more than you think you are," she said. When the armor was mentioned, she looked over and scooted toward it, picking pieces up in her hands. She held each article in turn and set them aside, looking a bit thoughtful. "No, I don't think so," she muttered, shaking her head. "I don't get that feeling from it. There's something in it, for sure, but it isn't magic. I think it's had a long life."

Placing the cuirass aside, she moved back to her spot and sat again, running fingers through her hair in order to put it back to its normal ponytail. Arwen paused and furrowed her brow, lips pursed.

"We can enchant it if you want," she said, starting on the braids in the front. "It raises the value of an item significantly when it's enchanted. I only know a couple of helpful armor enchantments. I have a lightfoot one, and a flame resist spell. The lightfoot muffles the sounds you make when walking or otherwise moving. It comes to mind that I've never enchanted my own armor. I can do yours, if you'd like me to." Her face suddenly went blank, devoid of any discernible emotion. "I should make mine flame resistant," she said, looking at her feet. She'd paused braiding her hair to look ahead at nothing, eyes wide. A moment passed and she finally looked up, offering an obviously forced smile. "I can do yours, if you'd like me to," she repeated, eyes on Thessaly again. "It might be useful, yes?"

[E is for Enigma]

"You sound like an old priest I used to know," Thessaly chuckled at Arwen's insistance that the elf might be able to do more with her magic. It was true. The old Talos priest who had sheltered her and her urchin friends whenever they were hiding from the city guard had insisted time and time again that they could be doing more with their lives than theiving--but none of them had any desire to join the order.

Though she'd never admitted it aloud to her friends, Thessaly had considered more than once taking the priest up on his offer. The promise of comfort and safety for the rest of her life was a compelling pull at that age, when she'd felt so young and powerless in a world of uncaring adults. She was glad she hadn't, though. Her friends would never have let her live it down, and her life was much more interesting now--a little too interesting, sometimes. Not to mention she would have gotten killed on the spot by those Thalmor when they rolled into Chorrol. A Bosmer and a priest of Talos? She'd have been made example of on the spot.

She tested the edge of her blade with her thumb. Satisfied, she went to work on the other one.

"Enchant my armor?" Thessaly said, sounding a little unsure. What would that feel like? Would she be able to tell? "You have what you need to do that, here? More of those stones, I mean."

She took note of the strange face Arwen made when talking about it. It was an unfamiliar, pensive expression on the Breton girl. Thessa wasn't sure what to make of it.

"How can you tell, anyway?" she asked, figuring that if Arwen wanted to talk about something, she'd go ahead and blurt it like she did anything. "That there isn't magic on the armor?"

[Purplish Space Rock]

"How can I tell?" She looked a little confused at the question, frowning slightly. She paused again, trying to put her thoughts into words. "Magic has a driving force behind it like everything else," she said, hands up. "Swords and daggers have hands behind them that move them from one place to another, and arrows are shot from the taut bowstring. I suppose magic is unusual in that its driving force is itself. It could be considered an example of a circle, because there is no start and no end, I don't think." Arwen stopped again, looking into the fire. Her mood had dropped considerably. "Magic has an aura, I suppose. Not everyone can feel it, but those who are tuned to it can. Most people who aren't magically inclined are tipped off by the glow in weapons."

Scooting over toward Thessaly, Arwen brought her bow over and set it on the ground between them, fingers tracing the faintly glowing veins along its limbs. As she dragged her fingers over them, they grew brighter and duller.

"Armor doesn't have the same glow, really. Enchanted items that cause a visual, physical effect are obvious, but those that work passively don't." She looked around, as if trying to find something to illustrate her point, but came up with nothing. "I'm more inclined to magic than many others, so I can feel it in my fingers when there's magic in something. These lights, the bowls of fire we keep seeing that are lighting the halls here after decades of being left alone, they're fueled by magic. Fire salts and spells, if I had to guess. When you reach up, you can feel it. To me, it feels like...disembodied warmth, like running your hand over the surface of a freshly used grindstone. It may be different for others." She brought her hands to her collarbone, patting her chest.

"My magic feels like it comes from here," she said, bringing her hands together on her breastbone. "And when it's coming from me, it feels like...I'm not sure how to explain that one, actually. It feels natural, though. It feels like it's a part of my soul, and I suppose that's the best way to explain the force behind magic. Maybe magic is fueled by our own souls. Magic is used to capture souls, and souls are used to create magic, so it's an odd circle." Hands finally coming down to rest in her lap, Arwen's expression returned to focus on Thessaly, having gone blank for a moment. "If you limit yourself and if you believe that you'll never amount to any greater power, you absolutely won't," she said, looking more serious than she ever had. "You have to open up to the possibility that you can do better, or you stagnate and will never get to know the power inside yourself. It's how I have fun, anyway. I know I can press my luck time after time, and it's live or die, so I might as well see what I can do before I come to a screeching halt."

[E is for Enigma]

Thessaly's mouth took on a wry tilt. Perhaps she'd just never seen a magical weapon or armor before. Not a lot of what Arwen had said about force or whatever made sense to her, but she supposed when you were raised by mages....

Then she caught sight of Arwen's freshly-enchanted bow. Like the mage had described, the bow glowed faintly in the dim firelight.

"Oh!" Thessaly said, startled, and a little proud of herself. "I see it! So, that's not what enchanted armor would look like?"

Arwen's further description of her own magic both interested and puzzled Thessaly. She'd never thought about where her magic came from or how it worked--she'd always just accepted that she had what little she did. With this fresh perspective in mind, she reached for the power in her that called forth the mage light--realizing in the process that it was like reaching, but inward. It felt more like it came from her arms than from in her chest, like Arwen said, but maybe that's because she flexed them when calling magic. It was hard to tell.

She supposed she could learn a lot more about her magic if she joined a school or got tutelage like Arwen suggested, but Thessaly knew that was never going to happen. You learned spells by reading them out of books. They'd never let in a girl who couldn't read.

"Hey, you dry yet?" she asked, testing the edge of her second blade, suddenly itching to get away from what felt uncomfortably like one of the priest's old 'you can do better' sermons.

[Purplish Space Rock]

"Mm-mmm." Arwen shook her head, moving back to her spot to start putting things in her bag again. "No, enchanted armor isn't visibly so," she said, sweeping jewels into their little pouch. "It has more of a force behind it. You'd know it if you held it. It almost feels like it's vibrating. If you've ever touched armor that was unusually warm, that would be it." All her things were put away, and she started pulling her armor back on, humming lightly. Strapped in, she held up a finger while she pulled her hair forward and started tying it back up at the end. "A girl has to look her best going into battle, you know," she said, snickering and rolling her eyes. "Really, though, I'm ready."

Standing, she pulled her gloves back on and nodded, heaving her pack onto her shoulders. Something nagged at her- again, the feeling of being watched or pursued. She stopped and looked at the door, still like a dog catching a scent.

"D'you get the sensation that something is in here with us?" she said slowly, finally turning her eyes back on Thessaly.

[E is for Enigma]

Thessaly searched her memory as she packed up, stowing her newly-sharpened blades carefully and packing the whetstone in with her other gear. She couldn't remember off-hand if she'd ever picked up warm or vibrating armor before, and she was fair sure she'd have remembered such a thing. But she supposed it was possible that she hadn't know what she'd had at the time, and just didn't remember. Well, maybe she'd get the chance sometime.

"Can non-mages use magic armor?" she asked, almost regretting it once the question was out of her mouth. That must have sounded so stupid.

When Arwen asked about another presence, though, Thessaly paused, then glanced around quietly, more listening than looking.

"No," she said finally. She didn't hear anything, and her ears didn't miss much. "What, your phantom boyfriend come back?"