Seven, the brave pirate captain, shouted orders at the young men who were loading the cannons and showing their pirate flag. "Hoist the colors and fire the cannons! Simon, man the crows nest!" Seven said to his imaginary caterpillar. Seven had a large tricorn hat, and a long coat that reached down to his knees. Underneath the coat was a large tattoo of a ship, his ship. It was large, with hundreds of cannons. "Captain! Ship approaching from the starboard side!" Simon called down. Seven turned the wheel of the ship, making a sharp turn. The two ships met, side-by-side, and fired. Cannonballs flew this way and that, and the enemy ship started to sink. The pirates cried out, as Seven stood triumphantly, in victory. Then, the feeling of falling. Falling ever so far, and ever so fast. He would surely hit the ground at any moment! Seven awoke, sitting up in his prison bed, seeing that the iron door that held him prisoner was open, and a Solitude guard stood in it's place.
"Time to go. Your jail sentence is up." "Intruder! Fire at will, men! Simon... Attack!" Seven yelled, angrily. "No, you need to leave. Now. Get out before we force you out." The guard said, irritably. There was no way Seven was leaving without Simon. "Can my friend come too?" There was a long pause, before the guard finally spoke. "Whatever. Your belongings were taken, but we can provide you with the value of your items in gold." He said. They had recently auctioned off the rest of Seven's belongings. "How much?" Asked Seven, referring to the gold. "Twenty septims." That surely wouldn't be enough for a house, or even a few nights in an inn! What will you do now? You have no place to live, not enough money for food, and your being tossed out of the only place you call home! Said the imaginary caterpillar. The guard threw a small coin purse to the floor, the small amount of gold spilling onto the stone floor.
The large door to castle dour opened, light spilling through the doorway. Seven's eyes burned harshly, and his skin felt like it was melting off. A decade in a cold, dark, stone room will make anybody sensitive to the sun. Seven felt scared, being free. He had always dreamed of freedom, to be out of that stone room he had always called home, but now that he had the entire world in his fingertips, he felt as if it was too much to handle. The man huddled into a ball in the middle of the cobblestone road. Seven had attracted many stares, as the sun burned him and his eyes were rendered useless. Freedom. Why is it hurting us? It used to be so nice before they took us away! Seven grabbed Simon, and put him to his chest, shielding him from the sun's harmful rays. The furry caterpillar squirmed in delight, as darkness returned from inside of Seven's hand.
He had spent about a half-hour in the road before someone cared enough to help. It was a man from the bard's college. He put a hand on Seven's back, but it was soon swatted away. Seven ran. It felt like he was running away, but it was everywhere. Everything was so open, everything was so... bright. Seven barged through the closest door he could find, sending himself into a wooden floored room. It wasn't dark enough for him to open his eyes, but it didn't burn as much. He crawled around until he had found a corner, and hid himself in it, putting his head where the two walls met.
Open your eyes. Open your eyes! Seven tried to open them, but it was no use. He peeled his eyelids from his eyes and made an attempt to use his vision. He could see, but the inside of his eyes hurt. He slapped himself in an attempt to meet with the real world. He was in a building. There was a wooden counter with men sitting on one side, and a man serving drinks on the other. The people in the room had stopped staring at him after the first ten minutes he had been in the corner. Suspicious eyes still followed him, and it made Seven paranoid. Just sit down like everyone else is. You'll blend in just fine. said Simon, always so helpful. Seven sat down at the bar. The man next to him shook his head, then looked at the barman. "Gimme an ale." The man said, almost angrily. Learn by example. Just order an... ale? "Gimme an ale." Seven copied. The man next to him stared in pure disgust at Seven's face. His eyes were red and his skin was pale as snow. His hair, which used to be brown, was now a not-so-lovely shade of pale yellow. Seven was served a bottle of brown liquid. It was nothing like he had drank in his cell. In the prison, he was only offered water and bread. He put a few septims on the table, and the barman took them, cautiously. Seven watched as the man next to him took a big swig from his drink. Seven attempted to do the same, in an attempt to fit in. Passing over the lips, the liquid felt like water, but touching the tongue, it turned Seven's stomach inside out. After much vomiting, crying, and making a scene, Seven figured that sitting down would be the best option. He took the table in the corner that was shaded, with no torches or lanterns nearby. Seven watched as the first people he had seen in ten years joked amongst themselves at his expense.
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