The Wobbly Goblet Playground Options

[Darkness Eternal]

The bards with their plenty of songs played, gave way to the group of Altmeri troubadours from the Summerset Isles who eagerly sought attention. The age-old tune of mainstream Cyrodiilic drum and flute were placed by harps and violins. Instruments of a more sophisticated note, arguably rare in taverns.

As a patron of the arts and a supporter of elven style and an enthusiast of high cuisine and exotic music, Irvana’s attention was momentarily diverted to the high elves who took the side of the tavern to begin playing. The snobbish expressions on some of their faces were not missed, and it even turned the focus of others away in spite from their coming performance.

Irvana sat herself down in the nearest corner, hands clasped together, chin just above her interlocked fingers. Her golden eyes keen on the elven group. They began to play.

The song was soothing but somehow out of place in a tavern such as this. Irvana guessed they must have been employed by wealthy Breton from High Rock to support the festival with their song. Even so, Irvana enjoyed their songs.

This is music.

She never recalled hearing such thing in common taverns, first because she hardly ever set foot upon them, and secondly, the type of music only attracted different minds. This is something she’d been familiar with in castles or the Tiber Septim hotel that hosts special events on certain days. The Imperial Palace was no different either.

For Irvana, the Imperial City surpassed her expectations. Many years of traveling and adventuring in the provinces as an ambassador had given her flavor for the high life, and Cyrodiil was a spot not simply where her darkest desires could be fulfilled, but also where she could put her his unique talents to the test.

The Wobbly Goblet, with this festival full of people of all different stripes and walks of life, was just the same. While it was a lure for those lacking world-altering skills or promise, the heart of it was also a place of potential for those with overflowing coffers and connections.

Irvana looked across the room for an instant to see the nobleman, Draken, converse with a group of similar-minded people. Scions of wealth that, for some reason, stooped to the bottom of the chain in search for profitable results for their daily lives.

As a noblewoman, she only had the common thought that a coterie of cronies and servants of above average intelligence would be best suited for the task. For what need does a nobleman or a noblewoman have to be standing amidst less reputable members of society? The habit of blue-blooded individuals in the dance of rivalry was nothing more than everyone striving to outdo one another. The need that they only must dress well, dine in the appropriate places, associate with the proper company, and so forth. This was acceptable, of course. At the same time, however, she understood that in these times she could be almost as anonymous as she desired, simply by travelling up or down, garbing herself up or down, mingling with merchants and bards rather than politicians, or consorting with the purveyors, hawkers, shysters, and scam artists that populated the lower echelon of Cyrodiil’s society, as well as the genuine ones. In the end, coin is as useful as the secrets they can buy.

The key, of course, was to live incognito. To this degree, she was a legendary doyen.

She leaned back, took a few sips from her drink, and remained focused on the music players.

“You appear to be enjoying the wine.”

Irvana glanced at her side to see a tousle-headed youth with brown hair, stand near her table with eyes looking down on her. The faint smile on his face, the forced body language and almost dramatic tone in his voice suggested he was trying too hard to capture her interest and hold it.

He wasn’t physically imposing but she could see beneath his plain brown shirt that he sported a slightly muscular body which he seemed eager to display with the puffing of his chest.

“Exquisite,” she said, holding the man’s gaze for a fraction longer than might have been called for.

With a spreading smile, he interpreted her ready expression as permission to sit beside her. “Not too sour?”

“Scarcely a trace of bitterness.”

“I love your clothes. I saw you from afar and I must admit your sense of fashion is captivating.”

Clothes? She thought. He chooses to spend his introductory breath on the fabric of her clothes. Nothing about her lustrous black hair, that in this current weather, was a wonder why it was so straight and lively. Or her eyes that seemed to reflect the deepest fiery pools the skies of certain pockets of oblivion. Or her teeth that was white as snow.

She didn’t respond to his admiration. Certainly with the Telvanni insect-liquid upon her flesh, he would conjure more courage than to compliment her on the silk that hugged her body.

“Are you here for business or pleasure?”

Irvana smiled, but with her eyes on the inefficient fingers of the Altmeri violinist.

He missed a note. Terrible.

“As I would have it, both.” Irvana said, patting her inviting lips with a napkin.

“Same. Business has concluded, I’m afraid, so I’m just looking for pleasure.”

In the corner of her eye, unaware to his perception, she could see his gaze lower to her exposed neck, down the sharp division down her chest and to her legs, which thankfully, spared any lecherous men the sight of her long legs.

She turned abruptly in time to catch him moistening his dried lips. His eyes flicked from the area just between her legs to her eyes. She pretended she didn’t see that.

“What business would that be?”

“I sell horses. Festival brought in heavy numbers. I made lots of coin off these happy travelers.”

“Good for you, I suppose. Coin these days is hard to come by with honest work. Most seek the easy way. Thievery, murder, deception and treachery.”

Easy, sometimes, is synonymous for essential. But she had no need or desire to tell him that.

“Hmm. What kind of work do you do?”

“As of this week? A connoisseur of exotic cuisine. You may label me as a true oenophile, as well.” Irvana allowed herself to chuckle.

“Ah, so it is mostly pleasure, then?”

“Sometimes they are one in the same.” Irvana’s tone came light, as did her subtle shifting in her seat.

“That, we both share. I love to sample exotic tastes, too. Tell me, you’re not local, are you?” inquired the fellow with a firm touch above her knee that seemed to linger more than necessary. A tight squeeze followed. This, accompanied with the bold suggestion, struck Irvana as the results of the growing effects of the Telvanni bug musk. No matter her coldness toward him, he would only seek to thaw the ice with his advances. If she gave him any other indication of interest, the man would sooner climax in the spot than to continue to try and get her in bed.

How powerful something so . . . seemingly harmless can be.

Irvana was going to respond when a missed note struck in the assembled troubadours. That same Altmer with fingers too clumsy to properly play the violin. One single missed thread in the entire performance rendered the rest of it a catastrophe. To the commoners, such a thing went unoticed. But to those with keen ears, small scoffs and eye raises followed.

What in perdition's name was that?

Irvana bit her lip, placed her hand on the man’s hand that still lingered on her leg, and rose from her seat. “Pardon me for just a moment,” she said with a casual smile. “I’ll return.”

She passed through the crowd of people, some of which had interest to strike a conversation with the striking Imperial woman. But for Irvana, such things had to be perfected.

Before the group assembled to plan another song, Irvana approached the leader, a golden-haired Altmer with aquiline nose and wide eyes of the same color of hair.

“Hmm, yes?”

“I have a request.”

“We’re accepting requests after this next song.”

“No,” she said with a light touch on his arm and a disguised movement of her neck so that the bug musk could do its work. Of course, she didn’t require the smell alone. Persuasion and natural looks often helped, but this time the results would have lower chances of failure. She was sure of it. “I request to play a song.”

The altmer’s forehead seemed to lift and his eyes along with it. “Say, what? Young woman, have you even touched a violin?”

“I have. I have a song I wrote in mind.”

The altmer, entertained, gave her an amused look that reached his other comrades. They looked at him with curiosity and asked what he was smiling about.

“The girl here wrote a song and wants to play.”

They all chuckled. Irvana smiled with enthusiasm as she reached for the violin of the song-butcher, and grabbed hold of it. Before any words of actions of protest she began to play a small part of her song, which seemed to give them all surprised looks and slow nods of approval.

“Could you accompany my lead? Surely you’re talented enough, yes?”

The harp players and the violinists muttered amongst each other and nodded. Being led by an Imperial was something a high elf would frown upon, but with the soothing tone and gentle and majestic movements of her arm in that short piece, all prejudice was erased.

Most eyes of the tavern went to the sole Imperial woman amongst a group of pointy-eared Mer. Irvana began to play her own song she created years ago. Her movements and her subtle wiles and abilities also affected the players around her, and the music came out in a melody.

The Goblet silenced with the exception of a few whispers and one skinny brown-haired Breton who wiped away at his robes from a recent accident, who attracted had few curious eyes on him as well.

[King Coin]

“Does Tamika’s white suit you?” Darnand asked.

Something in his voice penetrated her concentration, and her eyes turned towards him. Realization struck her like an arrow. Oh gods…

His eyes were on her as he poured, oblivious to the excess wine now spilling onto the table.

“The wine!” she called. It startled him into motion and splashed her with some of the wine.

Before she could react, Darnand was dabbing at her arms and then her chest with his sleeve. She was stunned when he dabbed over her breasts. “What—!?” she began.

Her objection was cut off when Darnand’s sleeve caught the goblet and chilled wine poured into her lap. The sudden cold made her gasp.

She felt his hands all over now, dabbing at every part of her body. She moved her arms and legs to impede his progress, curling them over her body. “Stop!” she managed and pushed one of his arms away from her. The wine bottle on the table tipped with a hollow clunk, and the rest of the wine watered the grass beneath them.

She sat on her chair, knees at her chest and arms wrapped around her legs, staring wide-eyed at Darnand. I’ve just been felt up by Darnand.

He stood and started shaking his robe. “Just trying to get myself dry,” he said. “Oh gods.”

Oh gods, Aravi’s mind repeated, still shocked.

[Grits]

Darnand

Aravi wrapped herself into a defensive ball on her seat, staring up at him in shock.

Darnand found himself remembering the day they fought the spider daedra. He had fallen against Aravi and grabbed onto her for support. Onto her strong, armored hips. And her supple tail, so soft as it slid through his fingers…

Then she punched you in the head. Get a grip on yourself, man!

Abiene stopped at their table. Her face looked like a thundercloud, and her voice could freeze a man at twenty paces. “Darnand,” she gritted out.

Darnand followed her gaze with his own. To his horror he realized that he did indeed have a grip on himself.

Before he had a chance to pray for immediate removal to the Dreamsleeve, a miracle occurred. Abiene’s eyes snapped to Aravi. Her face flooded with concern and affection.

“Oh my dear Aravi,” she murmured, sliding into the seat he had recently vacated. She picked up the Khajiit’s hand and began to stroke it. “What did he do to you? I’m certain he didn’t mean it,” she shot a look at Darnand that should have flayed him on the spot, “and he will surely apologize right this instant!”

Darnand’s jaw dropped open in astonishment. He had seen Abiene dig her heels in on some issues, but hers was the way of sweet reason. Who was this terrifying creature?

[King Coin]

Suddenly Abiene was at her side, stroking her hand. Aravi leapt from her seat and put the chair between her and the Bretons. The three of them had the eyes of the crowd, and more than a few of them settled on her in particular.

“I had no idea this would happen, I’m so sorry,” she spoke in a rush. “I need to go now!”

She turned toward the inn and fled through the crowd, weaving and ducking through people. When she got inside, she was greeted by fine violin music. Irvana was playing with the accompaniment of some Altmer. The music was lovely, but more importantly to Aravi, Irvana was the focal point of the room. None but the closest patrons paid her any notice as she moved through the inn.

Aravi made her way over to the bar counter unmolested where she could get a room and a bath. Her clothing was a mess of spilled wine, and she needed to get the bug musk off.

She went to her room and waited for Hethilion to appear. When he did, he seemed less affected by the musk than other people were. It wasn’t until the water was filled that things started to go downhill.

“No I do not want any exotic messages, thank you, please leave,” she said as she gently pushed the man out the door. She locked her door, and realized that it might not be enough to keep the housekeeper out. He probably has a key.

She dragged a solid wooden chair to the door and propped it against the door handle. Then she looked towards the window. I don’t have to worry about that do I?

She decided no, and just pulled the curtains closed before entering her bath.

[Elisabeth Hollow]

Kayla slid out of the bathtub, freezing cold, her lips blue, but rid of the bug musk. She wrapped a warm towel over her tall, toned body, her hair still dripping, and dabbed some of her vanilla oil on her wrists and neck.

Ahhh. That's the scent I'll enjoy for a while.

She walked out of the bathroom to see Laegon still lying languidly on her bed, a pleased smile on his face.

"Clean now?"

She nodded.

"Ready for round two for me?"

"I don't know if I could stand a-"

She felt an odd sensation in her core, and her pupils dilated. Her lips parted, and Laegon's lustrous black locks slid past his shoulders like a cascading waterfall of shadow as he sat up. His eyes, amber pools of liquid honey caressed her figure as she dropped the towel and climbed on all fours onto the bed.

"You smell it, then?" He asked as she sat on his hips, still covered by her sheet.

"Smell...what?" She murmured. Her hands were everywhere, his face, his neck, his chest, lower. He let out an enthused grunt when she gripped lower.

"The bug musk!" he gasped as she began working. "Oh, my dear!" He said something in...Kayla couldn't exactly remember the name of the language Altmer speak, but it was lilting music to her ears as his cries grew louder. He finally spasmed between her hands and she buried her face in his neck.

"What did you say earlier?" she asked. His chest still rose and fell rapidly as he recovered.

"Bug...musk..."

"Is this how you felt when you saw me?"

He nodded, his breathing going back to normal. She still felt a tugging at her core. She crushed his lips with hers as she pulled him closer. Their looks suddenly matched as they eyed each other with intense looks of lust.

"I think I got some on you."

"Fine by me."

---

"I think we dented the wall." She remarked in a breathless voice. He checked, and sure enough...

"No one will notice. Where did you get this musk?"

"Dunmer merchant named Thals. I think I put too much."

"As did I."

"You put on enough for the both of us." She laughed. "I got some of yours on me."

He smiled down at her and gently patted her cheek.

"You can sleep if you want to." Kayla offered. "I've got friends out there, and I dont want them worrying about me."

She briefly pulled him closer, thankful for the brief sense of intimacy he was invoking. She let him go, knowing it wouldn't last very long. She put on her clothes from earlier after cleaning up once more, her hair still wet from her bath. She put on more vanilla oil, dabbing it on her neck and wrists before drying her hair off. with a smile, she slid out the door.

Gods, I'm insanely hungry. She wiped her palms on her pants, then rubbed her arms nervously. She walked back downstairs and headed out the door, unaware of the heads she turned as she slipped out the door.

I think the musk wears off after a bit. She thought to herself. She hoped. She saw her group of friends sitting at some tables, Abiene comforting an obviously distruaght Aravi. Kayla's face lined with concern as she began to approach the table, but felt an invasive hand grope her breast.

"Hey baby, we should-"

He didn't finish the sentence as her elbow knocked a few teeth from his mouth. He gripped his mouth and made another advance on her, his face unreadable to her as he reached out, blood dripping from his lips. he was a big, dark-haired Nord with meaty hands. He outweighed her by several stones, his chest three times her width. Her eyes narrowed as she slid under his grasp, grabbing his wrist and using her foot to trip him. His own weight toppled him as he fell forward, and she pressed a knee into his spine once he fell.

He cried out in pain as he thudded heavily to the ground, and she looked around, wild-eyed and hoping for help. He sputtered on the ground, angrily blowing dirt in puffs and coughing when he inhaled it.

This post has been edited by Elisabeth Hollow: Sep 1 2013, 04:56 PM

[Grits]

Darnand

As Aravi fled Darnand took the seat beside Abiene. He gripped her arm hard enough to bring her attention back to him.

“I should think that Sanguine himself has taken an interest in this celebration,” he said.

The anger slowly faded from Abiene’s eyes, replaced by that familiar warmth and humor. “Or perhaps Sheogorath.” She took his hand and pressed it between hers. “I need to speak with you, my friend. Will you pour for us?”

This time Darnand’s hands were steady on the task. They shared a moment in silent enjoyment of the wine. Then Abiene leaned forward and spoke softly near his ear.

“Did you notice the Dunmer man who wears a black hand on his face? He’s sitting over there with that striking Imperial woman. She has to be his wife.”

Darnand nodded. He didn’t need to look.

“I told you I had been poisoned,” Abiene continued. “The threat has been removed, so we needn’t go over the details. And frankly I’d rather not relive them.” She took a sip of her wine. “You know Maxical and Eyja, of course. I told you I would be dead if not for them. Well, that man is Sethyas Velas. I want you to know of him, because he is the Alchemist who saved my life.”

Darnand watched Abiene’s face as she spoke. Her tiny lift of brow on the word Alchemist told him more than her words, though he was sure she had not intended it.

He picked up her hand. “This ring is not known to me. May I read the enchantment?”

Abiene gave her assent. When he finished they spent a long moment in silence. He would not ask what she hadn’t told him. If she was at liberty he would already know.

“He would say there is no debt between us,” Abiene said, “but you know my heart.”

Darnand wanted to hold her, shake her, and stride across the tables to demand answers as to what had occurred. The shadows under her eyes told him she was still troubled. This could not be the cause. Abiene possessed great pride in her skills, but she also had the humility to accept help when she needed it. She would not lose sleep once the matter was done, even though her life had been at stake. She would simply extend her help in return whenever and however it was needed.

“I understand,” he replied, his tone matching hers. “If ever I may aid him, I will do so.”

Abiene looked into her goblet for a time. Darnand waited for her thoughts to arrange themselves.

“Regarding souls,” she finally said. “What would it look like if a person’s soul was taken while they still lived? Is such a thing possible? I know ‘you are not a necromancer,’ but you still visit that awful leech in the Imperial City who makes you sell yourself for access to his library, do you not? I thought perhaps you might have learned…” Her voice trailed off. She already looked contrite.

It would take the rest of the day and then some to explain all of the ways she was wrong in her thinking, so he took the most expedient approach.

“Yes,” he agreed, “and as ever I have quite recovered.”

Abiene chewed her lip. Her knuckles showed white as she gripped the goblet.

And now I know. “Abiene…” Darnand took her hand again. “There are many ways a soul can be stolen upon a mortal’s death. Most often it is simply the energy that holds the sprit to this realm that is trapped, without which the consciousness is transported to another place entirely. However, the spirit can be bound to the soul at death and both taken. What you ask is outside my learning, and certainly not what I have personally experienced.”

Abiene’s eyes glistened with unshed tears. She looked utterly lost. “I can’t rest. I can’t forget what I saw.” She shook her head. “I don’t even know if I saw it! To think that you…”

“That is not what happens to me. His… feeding is an affront to Arkay and all that I believe in, but it is reparable. Abiene. Whatever has occurred, you must face it. I will stand by you. Do not add my troubles to yours.”

She nodded, lifting her chin and blinking her eyes to clear them.

Then she managed a smile. “That roast smells delicious. Will you share a plate with me?”

A struggle nearby brought them both their feet.

“Kayla!” Abiene cried out in surprise. Then she suddenly sounded furious. “Leave her alone, you ruffian!”

Darnand glanced around to see if the Nord had any friends about to come to his aid. Kayla was tall but not heavy. The Nord would shrug her off easily once he regained leverage.

Darnand readied a spell to paralyze him as soon as Kayla dismounted. If he used it now they would both be affected.

The Nord was on his belly spitting dirt and blood. Abiene dropped to her knees and took his big face in her hands. “There’s no need for such a fuss,” she told him. Her voice sounded like cool water. “See, doesn’t that feel better? You seemed to have fallen down. Don’t worry, it happens.”

She glanced up at Kayla, eyes a little wild.

She cast that spell I made for her, Darnand realized. Charm and Calm together. Abiene called the spell ‘Brawl Breaker.’ He privately titled it ‘Jackass.’ He had used it on Jerric more than once.

.

This post has been edited by Grits: Sep 1 2013, 05:10 PM

[Black Hand]

Sethyas saw a large Nord apparently getting ready to manhandle the birthday Altmer, and was quick to rise and unsheathe his dagger.

Serene's eyes followed him as he got up, wondering where he was going so quickly, only to follow up with seeing to where he was headed.

A man attacking a woman, shameful. No wonder he's going crazy. She knew that over-protective aspect of him all too well. While she herself was fortunate enough to not have seen the lengths he would go to when pushed, she had heard the stories.

Abiene and her friend seemed to get the situation under control quickly, and he sheathed his weapon. No need to add further to his crimes here, or to spill blood at an innocent festival.

We're all just here to drink and celebrate... He chided himself.

He returned the sudden glance of Abiene with a nod, and walked over to them.

"Everything all right here?" He asked, staring at the Nord.

[Elisabeth Hollow]

Kayla looked from Sethyas, to Abiene, to Darnand, her eyes still wild. She relaxed as the Nord did, knowing that whatever Abiene did to him, he wouldn't try to buck her off like an untamed horse. She reluctantly released him, untwisting his arm from behind his back and standing up and slipping through the crowd, embarrassed again.

She crossed her arms and ducked her head, her face red as she tried to shrink to the height of the Imperials and Bretons she was pushing through. Her vision was blurred as hot tears streamed down her face.

You're a grown woman. Stop crying.

Her eyes disobeyed her as the droplets stained her shirt. She walked away from the festival, away from the people, further from the inn towards the woods.

[Grits]

Abiene

Abiene stood, brushing off her skirt. Thankfully Darnand had not summoned his daedroth when the Nord got rough with Kayla. She had heard enough stories about his disobedient summonings to not want to ever see one in action.

A Nord woman shouldered through the crowd. She glared at the dark-haired man as Kayla climbed off of him. Her face wore the universal expression, ‘You are a dead man.’

Sethyas had appeared. Abiene realized her eyes had sought him out in her panic. Now she gave him a look of rueful appreciation.

“Everything all right here?” Sethyas asked, looking at the Nord.

Abiene took a quick breath as Kayla ducked away through the crowd. Her head and shoulders remained visible despite her efforts to disappear.

“May I present Darnand Penoit?” she said to Seth. “Darnand is a dear friend. I was just telling him how you helped me.” She turned to Darnand. “This is Sethyas Velas, the Alchemist whose potion brought me back to health.”

Both men’s eyes were still on the Nord couple. Abiene bit the corner of her lip. Kayla appeared to be heading for the woods.

“I am pleased to make your acquaintance,” Darnand said to Seth. “You have my eternal gratitude. If ever you need a mage at your side, I would be honored to assist you.”

You might get your chance right now, thought Abiene. The Nord was on his feet. It was obvious that he had lost some teeth. His woman might haul him away first, but when her spell wore off he would not be happy.

[Black Hand]

Sethyas nodded and smiled to Darnand and offered a hand in the Cyrod fashion.

"It was nothing outside the realm of my expertise." He replied to his gracious offer. "What kind of person would not offer their assistance if one's life was on the line? Especially if all it was boiled down to boiling a few ingredients in a pot?" He smiled at Abiene.

"If anything the favor was returned when they made some of Maxical's coffee, we're even and then some: that coffee was fantastic."

The Nord had his significant other show up and give the requisite cold stare he'd suffered himself from Serene on more than one occasion.

When they took off and the man turned around for one last look Sethyas threw in a look of his own to him.

Try me.

[minque]

Serene rose just enough to see where Seth was heading, of course he wanted to be of some help..as always she yhought with a faint smile.

She decided to head over to the table where the Breton couple were sitting, apparently Seth knew them and she thought it would be appropriate to introduce herself.

When walking over she noticed the tall Altmer woman, the one who was attacked and skillfully wrestled down the Nord-brute, rapidly walk away

Serene stopped...she could feel the woman's distress, something was not completely ok with her

A name popped up in her mind..."Kayla..." She was susceptible...she had to be Serene could feel her distress so closely.

Instead of walking over to the table as intended she ran after the Altmer...

Kayla! wait...I want to talk to you! she sent trying to reach her mind

"Kayla!!!"

[Darkness Eternal]

The nobleman shook the hand of a property-owner of the nearby farms. Once more, quicker than anticipated, the deal was nearly complete.

“Are you ready to make coin, Lord Draken?”

“Rather than be a casualty of it,” the undead man told him.

The gentleman grunted in amusement. “Well said, young sir. Needless to say, many are counting on you. You have done great things in the past.”

Draken smiled. “Better many than all, because you know we cannot please everyone,” he tapped the old man on the shoulder and politely excused himself. "I'd sooner burden you when we're more sober. Enjoy the festival, my friend."

He felt at home in the tavern, where entertainment was usually costly and life was cheap. He mingled with the crowd but with grace and proper etiquette, unwilling to be swayed by the effects of the drinks. His height alone was enough to draw attention, and his clothes and of course his face that might have been familiar to many. Getting imbibed was not part of his plan.

After extensive hunting, seduction and invitations to his personal abode Draken was lured by the sound of music rather than the blunt suggestions of women.

The instrument playing was the violin and the harp, and he did notice the Altmer group take place earlier but this song was too familiar to him. He only knew one person who played it flawlessly.

Irvana.

He turned to see the woman at the center, drawing sleepy and curious eyes from the tavern. There was admiration there, secret applauds, and of course the lingering gazes of lecherous men.

Draken averted his attention from Irvana and back into the crowd. In the short distance he spotted a woman whom he’d expected to be gone by now. Kayla.

Perhaps I will . . .

Draken saw the sight unfold before him. A commonly large person of the north, too drunk to make sense of the repercussions of his actions, felt the dying need to touch the breast of a woman. A woman who he has seen fight before.

My, aside from being doomed to stand as Meridia's eternal walking lamp she is she cursed to fight men all her life, as well?

As expected, Kayla retaliated and it resulted in the overfed man on the floor coughing dust with blood on his lips. Served him right. Any fool who doesn’t know how to properly handle a female deserves every bit of a woman’s retribution. Any son of Molag Bal knows he either dominates her mind with seduction . . . or simply gets her from behind. Both, perhaps, is either acceptable.

Draken took a step forward but held it there as he saw another woman and her Breton companion help Kayla. The woman knelt to the injured man and muttered a few words, and the man was utterly calm.

Clever, he thought. She used a charm spell.

Any Nordic brute too bold to make two advances on a woman and to make a show of unsheathing his blade would be brave enough to continue to seek bloodshed out of frustration of a rejected [censored]. But he was allayed by the Breton’s powers.

And Kayla . . . well Kayla fled from the scene and even brushed past him with tears moistening her eyes, unwilling to confront anyone in that moment.

Beneath all of that womanly bravado lies a fragile heart . . .
From his brief time with her in those caverns she tried to save his life more times than he deserved all the while he was writing plans for her death in the parchments of his mind.

The man got to his feet and turned to leave but offered the Dunmer one last glance, a threatening one. Almost as if the spell was somehow diminished. Draken took the cue and headed toward him.

Cold fingers bedecked with ancient rings touched his shoulder, and the man nearly jumped from the touch. “Excuse me, good sir,” Draken said politely as he walked past the man and blocked his view from the Dunmer, breaking any attempts for a rage-induced brawl.

The man left for now, and Draken seized the opportunity to approach the group that was acquainted with Meridia’s champion. Draken’s mask smiled to the Breton woman.

“This may seem out of place but I wanted to personally let you know that I found what you did a brave and noble thing. It is a pity that most other taverns would erupt in violence if such similar situation transpired but you prevented that.”

To ease the abrupt approach, Draken let himself chuckle lightly. “I’m afraid I’ve been around too many taverns and each new experience yields the same results; bloody noses, cracked lips, blackened eyes and so forth.”

[Elisabeth Hollow]

Kayla's vision was blurred with tears, so she took a moment to halt her running and wipe her eyes with the collar of her shirt.

Kayla...

She looked around and saw she had reached the edge of the wood.

Kayla! I want to talk to you!

Kayla whipped her head around, confused. She turned to see a few people milling about, but no one else seemed to have heard the call. She turned to see a beautiful Imperial woman jogging towards her. The warmth of the air made her running a bit more strenuous, her dark hair sticking to her forehead with sweat. Kayla wiped the moisture from her eyes and forehead, then onto her pants. she waited for the Imperial woman to reach her.

[minque]

The Altmer woman slowed down and stopped at last...Serene approached her, panting from exhaustion(sp?), she stood a few seconds to catch her breath..

"I'm Serene Catraso-Velas, you have already met my husband Sethyas I presume?" She continued; "You're Kayla, right? I apologise for approaching you like this but I got this feeling you maybe need some help or something?, I saw the assault on you and....well I'm a Mage and...and I can ..sort of...sometimes know what people are thinking"

"I hope you're not offended..." Serene stopped talking, hoping the young woman would understand....

"wonder if Seth has told anyone he's married to a mind reader"

[Elisabeth Hollow]

Kayla stared at Serene for a brief moment. She chewed her lower lip in thought while studying the Imperial woman's face. She saw no treachery or anything to make her distrust her.

But she can read minds. What type of magick is that? She thought to herself in Nordic. Can she understand Nordic? Does it matter? Does that translate over? Stop being silly and ask.

"I-"

She clamped her mouth shut, still giving the woman an odd look. "You're Sethyas' wife? You're lucky. He's attractive for a Dunmer." She turned red and covered her face. "Not that Dunmer are unnattractive, just they're not my type. Not that Sethyas would be my type-" She sighed and shook her head, giving the woman a helpless look.

"I seem to always have my boot in my mouth. It's like I can't stop myself from saying stupid things. I'm sorry."

[minque]

Serene smiled
"You're not saying stupid things! gah Here I burst in on you, probably scaring the shit out of you by telling you i can read minds!..But all I want is to be of assistance to you, if you let me"

"oh and Dunmers have always stolen my heart, Sethyas is the second dumner I've married"


" oh and I do understand Nordic,..."

[Grits]

Abiene

Abiene looked for Kayla as Sethyas and Darnand spoke. The Imperial woman she assumed was Seth’s wife had taken off at a run after her.

Perhaps they are already acquainted. She decided not to interfere.

Sethyas guided the talk away from the assistance he had provided. Darnand followed his lead though he was no doubt choking on his questions. Abiene smiled at both of them. She had known she could trust Darnand’s discretion.

A good-looking Imperial man approached them. Very good-looking she amended as he drew near. “This may seem out of place but I wanted to personally let you know that I found what you did a brave and noble thing,” he said to Abiene. “It is a pity that most other taverns would erupt in violence if such similar situation transpired but you prevented that.” He continued, speaking of the injuries that one often witnessed in taverns.

Abiene returned his smile. “It’s such a glorious day for a festival, I should hate to interrupt the celebration for bloodshed.” She nodded at the wrestling pit where an unknown number of brawlers were engaged in mangling one another. “Apart from the violence that’s agreed upon, of course.”

She hesitated. The man’s clothing was among the finest at the gathering, and his manner and jewelry suggested he held some rank in Cyrodiil’s nobility. It would be presumptuous for her to introduce herself even though he had approached informally.

Darnand raised a brow at her. Abiene realized she had not acknowledged the man’s compliment.

“Thank you,” she said to him. “What a lovely thing for you to say.” She included Sethyas and Darnand in her smile. “It is easier to act boldly when one has the support of friends.”

[Elisabeth Hollow]

Kayla's tight-lipped expression suddenly turned sunny. "You do?" She asked in Nordic. "It's so hard to find someone who isn't from Skyrim to understand Nordic!" She walked closer and firmly grasped the shorter woman's hands in a friendly manner, still smiling, white teeth showing.

"I'm just startled, not scared. I knew a man in the College of Winterhold who could...well, the closest he got to what you can do is make people think thy were hearing voices. Is this a natural gift or a spell? How long have you been able to do this?" She squeezed the woman's hands a bit tighter, then let go.

"I'm sorry. Tell me to shut up if I'm being nosy."

[Darkness Eternal]

Irvana finished her song with majestic grace and bowed to the assembly of people. There was a thunderous applause from those near her that did not compare to the earlier conclusion of the last song.

The altmer troubadours themselves received a bit of gratuitous sums from the people because of the last performance. Irvana truly did not believe it was that extravagant. Her playing was as simple as she could be. No true effort was put into it and yet it was something of interest that turned heads away from a small brawl of Nordic men fighting each other playfully.

Irvana handed the man’s violin with a smile and thanked him. For a moment they exchanged information. Even others whom she had not met came to greet her.

“I must say! Impressive work of music. Where have you learned this?”

Irvana regarded all of those around her with a charming grin. “My mother used to play the violin in High Rock and the Summerset Isles, many years ago. I learned everything I could from her.”

“You’re mother was a talented woman and blessed to have such a skilled daughter. Would you be willing to play in the tavern at Skingrad?”

“I’m afraid you mistake me for a bard, good sir.”

One of the altmers studied her from head to toe, not seduced to her lustfully yet but out of intrigued curiosity. His eyes began looking at the black ring in her finger with the family insignia. “You’re not just any noblewoman,” he said almost gasping. “You’re - -“

“Yes,” she said. “I am Irvana.”

One of the high elves nodded. “I had a feeling I had seen you from somewhere. The Imperial City. You were part of that play at the Elven Gardens District: A Hypothetical Treachery. You played the part of Inzoliah!”

“Yes. That was me.”

“Never have I seen a human woman play the role of a dark elf so well. And now you surprise me against with the violin.”

The human man among the mer appraised her openly, and then arched an eyebrow. His tone changed from admiration to something more. “You come from a privileged family. You should truly be proud. You’re line has accomplished so much. You yourself has funded many of the chapels in Cyrodiil and helped the beggars of the Imperial City. All one-hundred and seven of them! I nearly wept when I read the Black Horse Courier. My oldest sister often told me of you all this time and I never imagined I would meet you, here of all places. I am inclined to believe you may be the only woman with relation to the High Council that may be able to make a positive difference.”

“You do me too much honor.”

Irvana turned to answer the question of a woman that came along, only to notice the same man looking at her more than required. Irvana turned to him, wondering if her own gaze might help the man realize his social behavior.

“Excuse me for staring my lady, but the descriptions and accomplishments said of you led me to expect someone much older.”

So it wasn’t just the bug musk.

“I disguise myself well. My age, that is.”

“Either way,” he added. “A talent required by your position.”

“An ignoble truth, good sir. But I strive to remain faithful to my conscience.”

“Hold tight to that, young lady, dabbling in politics will surely test your resolve.”

Don’t I know that?

With a spark in her eye, she answered. “And I am inspired to face whatever circumstances of the field throw at me.”

“Just a curiosity. Why here, my lady, of all places to stride about? Most nobles wouldn’t give a single concern of walking among the lower-class citizens.”

“I believe we’re all people and that I shouldn’t allow my title to inflate my head to the clouds. Sometimes it the less privileged people who often need more attention. I am here to enjoy new customs, that is all. And to meet the wonderful people the festival brings.”

“Well, as I’ve said, I admire you. It isn’t wise to proclaim your true station, though. There are people in the world looking to harm those who do not deserve it.

This she knows, too. All too well.

"My lips are sealed. I make great efforts to protect myself."

"From the bottom of my heart, I hope you do. Be safe out there, my lady. And may the gods bless you."

“Gratitude.”

Irvana was conjuring words to excuse herself to the others when the same brown-haired horse-seller came to her once more. Unlike the others, this one’s desires was heavy with lust. She could see it in his eyes.

Oh . . . how should I deal with this?

****

Draken nodded in partial agreement to her words and acknlowged the two men around her with a gracious nod. “Indeed. Society can be a difficult place to endure, but friends make it worth it.”

He cleared his throat. “Pardon my manners. I have not properly introduced myself: I am Draken Decumus.” He extended a hand toward her. “And who might you be?”

He wasn’t entirely sure if the telvanni bug musk was working its properties, but he could detect the smell of it lingering nearby, changed by the body scent of another. The Breton man’s favorite bits seemed to be a bit . . . extended, but Draken hid the fact that he noticed this. Not to mention the increased rate of blood flow in his body as well.

That merchant has been running rampant with his wares, has he not?

With his hand out in waiting, Draken's eyes in that same customary almost cold stare, picked up the woman's features. The brown hair, the eyes . . . something seemed familiar. She bore resemblance to a social climber in the Leyawiin court sometime ago when he was tasked with keeping eyes on the border of Black Marsh and conflicts with the Whet-Fang Sodality. He was given opportunity to meet many important figures of the region, such as the Metonne family. Though holding no rank they were well-known and respected. This woman looked just like a certain woman who'd met of that family, but one with less signs of age upon her skin.

Not only that, she also seemed to share in likeness to a young woman named Sidette, which he had to confess to himself was more desirable. Sidette, like her mother madame Metonne, was involved with society just as he was.

Hmm, can it be that this is her other daughter?

"You wouldn't have any relations to Madame Metonne, would you?"

This post has been edited by Darkness Eternal: Sep 2 2013, 03:29 AM

[Grits]

Abiene

Decumus. Abiene had heard the name before though she couldn’t place it. As handsome as he was, she would have remembered meeting him. Especially those eyes.

“You wouldn't have any relations to Madame Metonne, would you?” Draken asked.

Abiene didn’t try to contain her surprise. “Why yes, she’s my mother. My goodness, do you know her? How did you meet? Forgive me, I’m Abiene.”

She took the hand Draken had extended. It felt cold on hers, as if he had just set down a goblet of chilled wine.

.

This post has been edited by Grits: Sep 2 2013, 03:52 AM