18+ An Untold Tale: Skyrim in These Times

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Elekbe

New Member
"Whether or not I can say I know where I am going isn't certain, because I don't. I am only me... but I know--"

The thoughts were interrupted when Liella woke. She swallowed a hard, dry knot in her throat that didn't want to go down almost making her gag. She placed a hand to her pounding head, vision blurring in and out as the sun glared down on her half squinted eyes. She didn't even remember the thoughts that were being rehearsed in her mind at the end of her dream, really. She says a lot of things to herself in a half awake, half asleep state of consciousness that she always forgets. Taking the same weak hand, shaking and mustering as much strength as she could to pinch the temples of each of her forehead the pounding of her headache set in as she began to massage circles with her fingers on each side.

"It's not time for this," She cried inside her head, the thought echoing into a empty wasteland of mental space. "What the fluff happened to me..."

colovian-dress-example.png
(current clothing choice on character - not character herself)
(It's easier for me to write my story by providing visual examples of clothing, scenes, people, etc from the game to give a better picture of what I am trying to share... a little lazy, sorry about that, but I write these for fun and to escape. So, you will will see many visual examples throughout the story to give a better idea of details.)

The last thing she remembered was a sword in her hands, a healing potion, and three Thalmor guards from Northwatch Keep ganging up on her before she tried to run for it and it all went black. She tried to lean up, but then she screamed out in agony with tears pressing down her cheeks. Black hair muffled up with leaves and dirt from the forest surroundings being her temporary bed. In the moment of that "two second" leaning, she saw the glass arrow she was shot with firmly placed in the side of her abdomen. She could taste the iron on her tongue, and she felt the "sweet burning bliss" of the pain being inflicted upon her abrasions over each arm. Her blue Colovian dress was ripped and tattered in various places showing the visible signs of the struggle she had encountered as she ran and fought for her life. There was one brown merchant's boot on her left foot, and the one on her right foot was missing altogether. The steel dagger that defended her had been dropped a few feet away stained pure crimson in another's blood. Her thighs were revealed in the large patches torn open from the tumble down the hillside that commenced after being shot in the abdomen, and then again in the thigh. She had scrapes and bruises and dirt stains over every visible piece of skin available. Who knows how much blood had left her body, or if the wounds decided to start healing around the arrows in her flesh. Was she still bleeding out? At this point she had no answers or understanding.

"I need to..." She choked out, leaning up again to try and reach for the dagger flung a few paces away. She screamed even louder this time as she felt the arrow sear further into her flesh with every movement. "AGH!" Her painful cry echoed through the tree tops, and birds flew in the wake of the bustling noise escaping with alarm by the canopy above. "This is it, this is how it all ends, two arrows and a run for my life! And to live for what?! Go to Skyrim, they said, make your fortune as a merchant they said! All of this travel, just to be abducted by Thalmor guards because I had a Talos amulet for sale!" She coughed, blood coming from her mouth, very aware she was complaining to herself. She had no clue where she even was at this point in time but knew it was far enough from Northwatch Keep for the Thalmor to stop looking for her. They probably thought after two arrows and falling down a short cliff that her life was done in a second. Her vision began to fade in and out again. "And I don't even worship..." She moaned out, high pitched, her head turning to the side as she slipped into unconsciousness once again.
 

Elekbe

New Member
Water, the rushing sounds of water mixed with the sounds of a creaking wagon wheel was all that came into her mind. She was still not fully awake just yet. Her body rocked to and fro with the wagon she was lying in. She could smell the aged furs covering her chest. The temperature had dropped some, wondering for a moment as she gathered her consciousness more as to where she was now. Then all of a sudden the movement of the wagon stopped. The creaking of the wheels went silent. The sounds of the pounding waterfall had become distant.

She heard the snorts of a nearby steed, and the pawing at the dirt below. She opened her eyes some, and then they rolled back into her head once more as she struggled to wake. There was a creaking noise, a rocking movement from the wagon, and then a thud as two feet hit the ground. The two feet began to step further towards the wagon, not knowing exactly if they were coming towards her or not. She was in so much pain she couldn't tell. The noise stopped again, and then all of a sudden the wagon shifted a bit and she heard the sound of a ceramic container of some sort with a wushing noise jumbling from the inside of it being lifted into the air. A "pop" was heard as a lid was lifted from the jug by the carriage driver, and then WUSH!!! The water fell straight from the air and onto her face. Liella screamed and sat up in shock.

"AHHHH! COLD! What the hell was that for?!" She screamed out of impulse reaction, drenched from now head to chest in water. The sun was bright and her deep green eyes squinted. "Oh my its cold!" Shivering, she saw the snowy mountain caps in the distance, but in the surrounding everything was sunny and green. she grabbed the furs covering her and pulled it close. In that moment, Liella realized she wasn't wearing her clothes. She had on what looked to be a man's miner's shirt and brown pants that barely stayed on her slim frame. She saw her dagger to the right of her by her knapsack and surprisingly both of her merchant's boots. Her hand moved to her side, which was wrapped up with clean linens. She moved her hand then to her thigh, which was also wrapped as well. The arrow had been expertly removed and her large wounds administered to.

"You've been drifting in and out of consciousness for hours now, and I can't heal ya if you're goin'ta stay dead." An old man's burly voice cried out, looking at her from his surprisingly large build.

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(This isn't my character, I found it in a google search, and I am only using his look as inspiration for the story and do not claim this as my own at all.)

"I--" Speechless for the moment as she tried to wrap her head around all of the things that transpired, only coming back fuzzy, eyes gazing upon this man. Bald head, long beard, built with a physique that looked like he knew how to handle himself in combat, but also had worked a hard labor job most of his life. His hair was a mixture of blondes and greys in his beard and eyebrows. No warpaint, simple trader's clothing, but his hands. She saw them. Despite being rough in appearance, they seemed calculated and tactical. He set the jug down now that she had awoken. His hands reached for a few small health potions on her right side. He held them up to her as she traced the veins which protruded from his arms and all the way up his muscled body. She looked straight to the potions, head still foggy and her thoughts and consciousness still dazed. She took the potions from him earnestly, and then looked back to his eyes. They were dark, amber and brown in color, and had many stories hidden behind them. "--Thank you," was all she could muster as she popped the top off of the first potion bottle, three in total, and drank it down handsomely.
 

Elekbe

New Member
"Don't mention it," He replied, knowing the grateful expression in her eyes all too well, "I've been in your shoes so many times I can't even count." He let out a small laugh as he walked away towards the right of the wagon. "I made camp before I found ya' at the bottom of a cliff by the river. You had two arrows, one in your belly and one in your leg. Not sure who you were fightin' but I've learned a thing or two about paying kindness forward in my day... caught some Salmon up the creek, if yer hungry." His voice was fading as he walked away and headed towards a small camp side with a large fire covered by a cooking spit and rotator for grilling your meat. She could smell the simmering onions, and cabbage, and leeks in the pot as he turned the ladle. "Not sure what kinda food you grew up on Imperial, but your wardrobe made me thinks you came from Bruma. 'Amirite?"

Bruma... At the thought of it, everything came back to her. She remembered kissing her father's cheek before climbing atop her paint horse attached to her merchant's wagon and heading up the Jerall path towards the border. She gave her legal papers to the guards, who pleasantly welcomed her into Skyrim, as common folk with legal entry trying to cross the border were a nice change of pace from the usual crap they put up with. Traveling alone seemed to most like a stupid thing to do, especially for a young woman, but she and her family felt pretty confident in the apprenticeship she had received in Solitude plus the period of quiet that came decades later after the Empire had regained Skyrim during the Civil War. Despite the fact that things were "on the mend" politically, or what so seemed on the surface and "in the news" that traveled, it was definitely still heated and under fire still in remote areas around the province.

She didn't know what she did wrong. She legally crossed, her belongings transparent to the guards as they searched her wares, and they too had even seen the amulet of talos which the Thalmor had squawked about before. She didn't have any problems with the Legion at her crossing, so why as she was making her route up to Solitude did these three Thalmor guards seem to care? She knew Talos worship had been outlawed, but wasn't it more relaxed here considering the strong loyalties most Nords had to the "once human god?" All of her former, ignorant impressions of what her family and her expected to be a light travel over a few days ended up nearly being a death sentence. The Thalmor saw her on the road, decided that they needed to check her wares, and when she showed them her legal documents and questioned the legitimacy to the claims they made--that was when they abducted her. She was stuck in NorthWatch Keep for 48 hours before a Nord prisoner in the cell opposite her schemed at night to break him and everyone else out. Following his lead, she ran with the group that fought their way out of the Keep's dungeon basement and back to the light of day for their survival Not really skilled in battle, she had some experience with archery and knew her way around a dagger. But, it was mostly to fend off thieves on the highway and not really to go up against trained elven soldiers. She watched her prisonmates fall one by one in terror mostly hiding within the group that promised to protect her as they made their way out of the Keep. By the time she and a few that remained made it to daylight, they were surrounded by many more soldiers within the walls of the fortress. Their leader, yelled for her and some stragglers to make a run for the gates. He and a few experienced fighters lead the main offense against the soldiers as they escaped. She ran with terror in her eyes, breathless lungs and the sounds of high elves trailing at her feet. She didn't look back, she didn't help anyone else as everyone split up and ran for their own survival. She was focused on living. A few soldiers chased after her yelling threats and then it happened as she started to near the cliffside without realizing it was there. One arrow shot in her side, the other in her leg, and then she screamed out in agony as she tripped forward and fell down the cliffside tumbling into what seemed like her demise. But here she is, sitting at the edge of a wagon, all of her own wares probably lost somehow or "confiscated for investigation into Talos Worship."

"Ugh-- I don't even," She put her hands to her head again massaging at her temples. Tears welled up in her eyes as she sniiffed them back. "Bruma, yes, I--can't go back." She knew that it had taken years for her to carefully acquire her inventory, and she spent most of her own savings to invest in many of the items she stocked up. Part of her apprenticeship was to build up a 20% investment into the shop she was employed into so eventually after years of learning the new trade, she could take over as owner. Her investment was that inventory, and it was all now gone. "I've lost everything," So many emotions came over her as she felt ashamed for what transpired, shame for what her parents could be thinking should she go back home, and guilt for the lives of so many "friends in chains" who lost their lives just so she could live. The emotions then swelled into her gut, creating nausea, as she tried to stand with her pale, bare feet on the lush grasses, dirt and moss beneath her skin. The nausea turned into upchuck in that moment as she thought about one of the lives she took in that fateful moment she and the others fought to escape. She didn't know these people, all she knew as that she had been unfairly treated, and they all had a common goal of escape. She didn't know if they were legitimate criminals or not, but that they had good in their hearts, for they risked their own lives to see her to her freedom along with the others. The man, who was about her age, that lead the escape and had the cell across from her. He was the one who listened to her story, and heard her crying the first night the loudest, and bared the burden of her selfish woes for freedom in the 48 hours they spent together. She had one last look at him as he yelled for her and the others to escape while he and a few older men fought for their lives. It was her, a teenager, an elderly woman, and two young boys that all fled for the gates. These memories stained her mind even more prevalent than the loss of her whole future to the hands of some bitter Thalmor Justicars and soldiers at their bidding.

After she finished vomiting, and all of those thoughts transpired while she spit out the remains of stomach bile she had left, the old man by the fire didn't seem to even flinch at her current emotional dilemma. Instead, he got up, and he walked over and handed her a clean cloth. She took it, not having any energy to smile, but grateful in her eyes nonetheless. He nodded, and then he returned to the fire side and picked up a bottle of cheap mead. He walked back over. He grabbed her pale, weak hand, and he placed it firmly in her grasp in a forceful way as if she had no choice but to take it. "Those were my last healing potions, and it ain't no medicine, but there ain't any healing liquid in the world that's gonna take away the aches and pains you'll be feeling after the healin's subside besides a good bottle o' mead."

She looked at the bottle of alcohol. Coming from Cyrodiil, mead wasn't something she was used to. She pulled a strand of long black hair back behind her ears as the pale girl examined the contents of the corked bottle. "I--I've only ever sipped wine before," she mentioned stupidly, in the moment, with so much in her mind and nothing feasible to form sentences out of her thoughts. She wasn't even a drinker anyways. Her parents loved cheese and wine and they enjoyed sipping purely for taste. That was what she grew up knowing alcohol for; a luxury treat for special occasions.

"You must be a noble's daughter," He laughed, taking a seat on a log by the fire. "Get your bearings girl! Mead ain't so bad. You have to try it before judgin'." The old man shook his head.

"I'm not nobility," She laughed, knowing her family didn't have to scrounge to make ends meet but she worked hard for every single septim she ever had. "I've worked for everything in my entire life."

"Workin' in a city and living off the wilds of Skyrim are two different worlds. What'sa girl like you doin' in the middle of the woods and battered up from a fight?"

Her eyes went downcast as she wiped her mouth, taking in a breath. They welled up with tears as she thought about the face of the young man (about the same age as herself) who saved her life. "I--don't know anymore." Her head and heart pounded in rhythm of pain that they shared. She looked at the bottle, impulsively uncorked it, and then took a large gulp of the liquid contents.

The old man watched her and before he could warn, he opened his mouth "Don't take a big swa--err, nevermind. Heh heh." He chuckled, and turned his head away for what was about to follow.

She swallowed it down, immediately disliking its strong bitter taste with only slight hints of honey in the after taste on her tongue. Her stomach was already sour, and the quick drink ended up coming back out. She vomited again.

"I tried to tell ya, it ain't somethin' ya sip like wine but you don't chug it either..." He took a drink from his own mead, set the bottle down, and then stood up to rotate the cooking salmon and stir the ladle on the pot once more. "When yer ready I believe for tendin yer wounds ya owe me a story..."

She didn't fault him there, she knew she needed to talk to someone about it. Maybe letting it out in the open would help her wrap her mind around what transpired. She felt so bare in the man's obvious spare clothes and naked without her boots. She looked back to the wagon, seeing the scraps of what was left behind of her dress, her furs for winter travel, and then her boots and a fully intact knapsack. She wondered why she was able to keep her knapsack and personal belongings, but why they confiscated her horse and the rest of her inventory and living supplies. She would never understand why this attack and abduction happened, or what any of this meant. Or what she would do about it.

Swallowing back on her dry, vomit flavored throat, she grabbed a piece of her former dress and ripped it off. She tied up her curly black hair into a high ponytail so it was off of her face. She saw the jug of water at her feet by the wagon, and she dipped the cloth into it leaning over while wincing from the pain of her wounds. Liella used the now wet cloth to wipe the dirt from her face. She looked at the miner's shirt which went down to her knees and acted like a short dress, and she ripped another blue piece of fabric from her tattered garment. She used it as a belt and tied it around her waist. After that she put on her boots, and she adjusted the large brown pants that had belt loops using another piece of fabric to tighten them on her small frame. She knew she looked stupid, but all of her clothes were with her wagon. She now recollected the moment her father insisted she wore armor on her journey, and how she wished she had done so. Maybe she would have had a better fighting chance.

It was freezing, so she grabbed the fur scarf, gloves, and hood that were somehow still in tact with the remnants of her former attire. She put them on, feeling a bit better now that the clothes somewhat stayed on her body better and she made her way to a stump opposite the old man by the fire. He was now at this moment pulling the salmon off the rotator and pooling ladles of soup into some old wooden bowls. He brought some grilled salmon and soup to her side, and even left a cantine of water for her too. She grabbed the cantine earnestly and chugged down the cool liquid which drench the insides of her mouth, going down smooth and refreshing with each relieving swallow.
 

Elekbe

New Member
"I was supposed to apprentice to a new shop that opened up in Solitude by my uncle," Liella described as she took a few sips of the soup with her spoon. "I had years worth of inventory saved up for my apprenticeship to own a portion of the business and invest into it. We planned by letters a work-to-own deal where when my uncle retired, I would take over. But as I was making my way to Solitude, on my route, some Thalmor soldiers found me and decided I was a Talos worshipper just because I had an amulet of talos in my wares..." She sighed, shaking her head and wondering if the old man thought she was stupid considering the entire Civil War was nearly fought over this issue almost. "I explained to them that we invested in unique oddities for our stock, and this was just one of them. I showed my legal documents and approval to make the route and they weren't having it. They started to go through my things and say awful things to me and just because I questioned their basis for invading my privacy as they were, I was accused of 'obstructing justice' and then declared a Talos Worshipper. All of my belongings, my inventory, my wagon, my horse--everything I came with was confiscated! They abducted me, and they threw me into jail. A day later, this man in the cell opposite me hatched a plan with many long term prisoners to escape and they said tomorrow was the day. I was sentenced to prison for who knows how long for doing absolutely nothing wrong and so I decided to help in the escape. Many brave men and women fought for their lives, and died, just to escape Northwatch Keep... I don't know how long it's been since I ran from the gates, was shot by arrow twice, and fell down a steep cliff but obviously you found me and here I am now." She said all of that almost without breathing, silence covering the air the moment she stopped talking. She came out of the whole thing like it was a fast run on sentence and no pauses in between.

"Well, that was a mouth full," He said between bites.

Thinking about everything that transpired, Liella, stopped eating and set the food down. Her vision was stained with memories of a dagger to the throat of the guard that pulled back on her long braid yanking her from the safety of the rebel's numbers. She remember instinct drove the dagger out from the sheath of the soldier's side and rammed into his neck. Immediately, he was down and blood was pooling below him as he choked on it. She stood there, in that memory, with the steel dagger stained in dripping crimson liquid as her heart pounded and the fray of battle ensuing around faded into just noise. She watched him bleed out, his eyes roll back, and the life of the soldier escape into the invisible places of the ethereal beyond the physical limits. She couldn't eat anymore, having taken her first life. Her already pale face grew paler. She picked up that bottle of mead, and she chugged it swallowing hard once more. But this time, she didn't vomit, despite the scrunching reaction of her face to the bitter aftertaste and pale sweetness of honey leaving much to be desired.

"Well hey, ya held yer own!" The man clapped at his thigh, and he let out a small laugh. Realizing the moment wasn't light, he saw her eyes as she relived that memory over and over in her thoughts. His expression became solemn, and he sighed. "How old are ya girl?"

"I'll be 28 in a few months." She said, almost robotic as it came out without much thinking and will.

He sighed, pondering the obvious going on. "And ya always lived a comfortable city life?"

"I guess comfortable and normal are two different things." She replied, sighing, and dropping her head. She shook her head and tried to snap out of it. "What you say is comfortable is what is normal to me. Not everyone grows up to be a mercenary or has to adventure to make a living. I worked hard for everything I had, like I said before. I may not have been trained to be soldier, but it doesn't mean I was what some Nords around here call what.... a 'milk drinker?' Just because I had a family that loved me, and I lived in a city, and worked and had a city lifestyle?"

"Whose callin ya a milk drinker here?" He laughed, almost spitting up his mead. He swallowed. "I just asked ya if you always lived comfortable.... you Imperials generally do comin' from Cyrodiil and any city life whether Skyrim or Cyrodiil or whatever is a comfortable life. Ya'ain't have to fight or hunt for what you bring home's all I'ma sayin."

She thought about the echoing voices of prisoners from her cell that first night hollering at her to shut up because she was crying due to being put in a situation she had never experienced. "Quit yer hollerin ya milk drinker!" Could you really even fathom the thought of being abducted in the middle of your what was supposed to be your brightest future at the very beginning of your travels? And then thrown in jail what seemed like a hopeless situation? Of course she was going to cry! Anyone who was normal, and never knew this side of life, would cry. She wouldn't fault herself for that.

"I don't know, I-- I am lost in thoughts. So much has happened so quickly. I don't even know what day it is or where I am or how I am going to get my stuff back... I can't show up in Solitude without my inventory. I can't face my parents in Bruma with only rags back to my name. They'll never trust me again! The first thing that happens when they finally let me off on my own to live my own life is that I get attacked and all of my stuff is stolen. And I come back with nothing..." Her eyes welled up again.

The old man had a look of pity for her situation. "Seems like you oughta fight back to me. Take back whats yours."

"And how am I going to do that?" She chugged another swallow of the mead.
 

Elekbe

New Member
"I can't tell ya how," He chuckled raising his shoulders, "It don't seem like the kinda thing I should be involved with."

She narrowed her eyes. "What was the point of bringing it up then?"

"Just thoughts, I always love me a good adventurin' story," he kept on chuckling until he swallowed the mead down the wrong way and began coughing it up.

She laughed, "Well that serves you right!"

In the distance, not too far from the campsite, her laughter though faded could be overheard. The hearer of such things was toddling back and forth as his head spinned from dehydration. There was a large skyforge steel greatsword sheathed on his back, and on the handle was a piece of red linen tied to it that waved in the soft air. Long black locks fell over his sweating face, to which his dirty, blood stained calloused hands swept it away. He took both of his meaty hands to his hair, and he tightened the knot on his head that held back the tresses. Not looking where he was going, a lifted root from a tree nearby hooked onto his swaying foot and brought him tumbling down. He was on a hill, and from that point began tumbling further on the way towards the campsite. Both Liella and the old man could hear the sounds of twigs and branches snapping with movement in the distance. It was paired with grunts and frustrated sounds of pain that were trying to regain their bearings. When the traveler met the end of the hill, it flung him through some foliage right into the base of the camp on the opposite side of the wagon.

"Callum?" Liella stood up, and she rushed over forgetting her own wounds moving in ways her body wasn't ready for. She stopped halfway towards him, wincing from the pain. The old man stood up, and he waved her off to sit down as he headed over to him.

"The name is Callum, eh? That was the name of me own son!" He let out a small chuckle at the familiarity as he leaned forward and stood the man up. "But you're certainly not a boy!" The old man eyed the tall, burly man now standing over him. He was much taller in comparison, and he definitely put his aged physique to shame.

Callum took in a breath when he heard a familiar woman's voice call his name. He stood with the assistance and began to shake his head and dust off the branches and leaves in his wake. He was wearing a navy blue tunic v-neck cut that had twine lacing around the chest. It was billowy, and light in material, but had been covered in blood stains, a few holes from battle, and it revealed wounded flesh but only superficial. There was an amulet of Akatosh around his neck, and he had on a pair of simple brown pants, but one leg had been ripped off so while the left fully extended the right stopped at his knees. There was a tattoo coming up his right calf, starting on the front of his foot and traveling all the way up to the center of his knee. It was a cobra, very detailed and lifelike in appearance, in black ink that had it's whole body wrapped around his calf. That was the first time that Liella had noticed it. She looked to his face, remembering that long black hair and those icey blue eyes. There was a scar that rested right underneath his eye, almost as if a saber tooth cat had flung a claw right to his face. She wondered the story behind that one. But otherwise, the battle scars dotting areas on his chest, arms, and available flesh to be seen were either newly opened or what seemed to be past remnants of battle.

"Liella?" He said in surprise. His eyes darted away from her as he saw a jug of water sitting by the edge of the wagon. He looked to the old man, "If you don't mind--"

The old man raised his hands up. "Nah, go ahead. That's just extra." From there, Callum immediately moved towards the large jug and began to chug it. After having enough to drink, he dumped the rest on his head and cleaned the blood off of his face.

Callum swept back his wet hair. The clothes now somewhat drenched by the dripping water clung to his muscular abdomen. Liella saw the wet hair and clinging shirt, taking in a deep breath as her chest tightened. Quickly she looked down, and she realized his eyes had never left her despite the awkward gaze.

"You made it out alive!" He laughed in a somewhat joyful, yet surprised way. He then saw the wound on her exposed thigh where the linen wrapped around the clothing and on her abdomen. "But you're hurt, what happened?"

Liella's smile seemed pained. "What do you think happened? I got shot." She clutched her side some more as she slowly sat down again. "It seems you got out okay though."

"This wasn't my first show down with the Thalmor," he said plainly, "ruthless lying bastards." His disdain for them could be heard in his voice. The camp went silent, and Liella decided it was probably best she didn't ask any further about what that meant with company she was unsure of.

Callum looked to the old man. "Do you know Liella personally?"

"I found her almost at death and helped her heal. Got a problem?" The old man was stirring the ladle in the soup by now, filling himself a second bowl.

Callum was taken aback by the simple kindness. "No--I--"

"I get it boy," the old man laughed tapping the ladle against the pot, "people aren't usually that kind."

"It's just not common someone would go out of their way to save someone, especially a stranger. So I am just a little surprised is all."

"Selfish people wouldn't," the old man sat down and took a spoonful to his mouth and then swallowed, "but that's more and more with them younger generations. We were raised to help out a neighbor and expect nothin' back."

"I can admire that." Callum eyed the leftover salmon sitting on a nearby plate and the bubbling stew.

"Help yourself boy," He chuckled.

The entire time this small interaction happened, Liella was just in silence. There he was, right in front of her again. It's not as if she didn't think he was going to make it. She had more confidence in him being alive than anyone else, especially herself! But, he just tumbled in out of nowhere as though the divines had thrown him back in her lap. Why? She would never know. She wasn't sure if fate was really all it was cracked up to be, but this encounter certainly had her curious. She watched the old man accept another complete stranger as though they were family into his campsite and share food that he had gotten for himself. Her heart was warmed by the generosity and selflessness of his character. Callum, though. By now he was serving himself some soup and some fish. He said down near the old man and the two continued to carry on conversation which was a blue to Liella at this moment. She was drinking him in, now that the darkness of her prison cell wasn't obstructing a complete view of him. He was the one who was kind to her from across her cell. She didn't know if it was because she was a girl and she was crying and he was just trying to be a gentleman, or if he really cared about her. Her thoughts began to fade back to that night, briefly, all the while staring at him...

"Hey!" There was a whisper in the silence.

Liella was held up in the corner, picking at a open gash on her arm. She heard the call, but didn't know where it came from. The sounds of water dripping through the cracks in the wall hit the ground in the distance. The prison was cold, damp, and dark.

"Hey you there! Across from me hey!"

She was sure it was being directed to her now, she turned and sniffed to get rid of the tears as she wiped away her eyes. There were two torches that lit up the hall between each cell. The only thing she could make out was a figure of a man, who looked to be younger like she was, but she could barely see his face. Just those eyes. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," she sniffed getting closer to the door as she was sitting on the ground. She grunted in pain from the open wound. "I'll be fine."

The torch that was on her side of the hall revealed her beauty quite well in the firelight. She had long, black wavy hair with beautiful emerald eyes. She was a petite imperial with skin almost as fair as the snow. Her lips were plump, her jaw narrowed in an elegant way, and she had the tiniest nose. The amber light of the fire surrounded these facial features and almost made her glow. You could make out the remnants of her deep blue Colovian dress and the white furs which so elegantly covered her neck and fell around her chest. Callum took in a breath, almost thankful to be lost in the shadows of his cell. He didn't say anything for a moment as he just looked at her.

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"Come on, it's not so bad," He said, almost impulsively knowing it wasn't going to make her feel any better.

"Are you kidding me? We're in prison!" She whispered back, but everything was amplified down here. "I might as well be the only woman in here, and for what? Traveling legally?!" She was still emotionally tense considering she had only been thrown in there a few hours ago. "My entire life.... is ruined."

"Why did they stick you?"

"Stick me?"

"Ya, come on. Why did they stick you in here?"

"They said I am a Talos worshipper." She said as softly as she could.

But, then there was an eruption of voices whispering, some scoffing, and some laughing. A Nord man a few cells down yelled out "Half of Skyrim worships Talos you blind girl!"

"But aren't you not from here?" He asked, ignoring the others.

"Yes," she sighed, "I'm from Cyrodiil. If you don't mind, I'd rather not talk right now." She moved away from the light and got list her own cell's darkness.

Callum sighed to himself, enjoying her beauty and something different from the past two years he'd been here. He didn't want to see her stuck in this place tormented like he was. Only the gods had known how long it'd been.

"I know things seem tough right now, but hold your head up, we aren't going to let someone like you stay in here. Just don't lose hope!"

She turned her head back to the light, a confused expression. He smiled at her from which she couldn't see. He just wanted to look at her. "Don't lose hope? Getting out of here? Are you insane! This is the Thalmor. We're up in the middle of gods know where and you're telling me we're going to get out of here?"

"Shhhhhh! Not if you alert the--"

In that moment she snapped when Callum called her name. "Liella? You all right?" She came back to the moment and she realized she had been staring at him the whole time.

"Uh, yeah I-- I'm fine I am sorry." She was now the one doing the looking, and there was certainly a lot to see. She moved her eyes to her feet, and she took in another breath at the max capacity of her lungs right now just kind of holding it. She was drawn to the loud thundering of her heartbeat in her chest.

"I told you not to lose hope," He smiled, weakly.

"Yeah, you did, but now I am a wanted criminal and my entire life's savings have been taken from me." She stood up and shook it off herself as she hobbled away again towards a cleared path the old man had made through the woods.

"Well now where you goin?" The old man squawked. He stood up, "You got your friend back it looks like, and you're not in any condition to be walking yet what if you open those wounds?!" He started making his way to her when she turned and put out her hand.

"I won't be gone long, I-I'm fine I just need some air." She turned away and made her limped movement towards the riverside nearby. The old man shook his head, and then he began to clean up the food she left behind barely finished. He muttered to himself, "We're outside there's air all around us..."

She sat down at the edge of the bank, watching the water ripple at the sides of a rock poking out from the depths. She swallowed back a sigh, and then she looked to each individual blade of grass. There was so much running through her mind. But mostly, the only thing she could think about was how she stabbed a knife through a man's neck. A real living breathing person who had his own life, his own family, and his own story. She couldn't erase the thoughts in her mind of his blood pooled body laying on the ground seeping out from the elven armor he'd worn. "I wonder if he had a name..." She choked as tears uncontrollably left her eyes. The water started to become all that she could hear as she tormented herself over and over with the thought of the life she had taken to spare her own.
 

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