Behold the Future! Behold the Thalmor!

[[We’re doing the moving of the items and belongings thing this weekend, so I’ll be pretty AFK for a little bit until I get settled. :D Super excited to move to a new place [just closer to work]. I’ll let you guys know how things go, but until then I’ll be in lurking Manny-Mun mode. Love you guys!]]

Perhaps that was all that they’d done…? The thought seemed wrong, somehow, but as Sier approached the growing cluster of mer and noted their overall lack of concern, he began to feel as though he were in the wrong.

 The mer swallowed again, this time feeling silly. Humans walked and talked exactly like elves… yet they weren’t the same… were they? Weren’t they? He couldn’t wrap his mind around either thought.

He locked eyes with his mentor and, suddenly, decided it didn’t matter. The older mer’s eyes bored into his, a cold, calculating stare that sent chills down Sier’s spine.

  Don’t mess up, the stare said, or you will be sorry.

Sanyail turned slowly to see the younger mer hesitating and he frowned slightly as he watched him with a confused expression, ears pinned back in his befuddlement. He waited until Sieralon had caught up before affectionately shoving the smaller elf forwards towards Estira.

The womer gave him a restrained, but kindly smile, inclining her head towards the shaky looking mage. “Well done.” She said to the mer standing around her. “Dispose of the bodies and make sure that there are no other bandits lurking about.” Several groups of mer split off to take care of the aforementioned grisly business. “Then set up a watch on the surround and raise the colors. The fort is ours.”

Sanyail chuckled lowly in his throat, slapping Sieralon on the back with one huge hand, giving him a broad grin.

“Erm… Well, this is an old Nord city,” she says, scratching the back of her head, “That man’s pretty… enthusiastic, isn’t he?”

Firiel’s attention and curiosity, once caught, were not easy to dispense with and he soon approached the statue of Talos with a puzzled expression. It was quite an odd sight, to see a Thalmor staring at a priest of Talos with a confused look, as though he was not quite sure what to do with him.

“What is strange shouting man doing?”

ϟ “Wonderful.”

Tone as dark as ever, he didn’t look back at Faeron to say if he was against the idea or not. He’d do whatever he pleased anyways, right? Sighing, he made it outside, moving as calmly as he could before he tried to ease into the situation. He wasn’t the first and probably wasn’t the last they sent to Northwatch for re-education, so why did he feel so… touchy about it? He couldn’t place a finger on it. Opening the door, he walked through the main entrance of the Embassy, into the cold, before taking a deep breath. He could smell a blizzard rolling in soon to the area on the wind and hoped that wouldn’t stop Faeron from going back where he belonged. Out of here, he thought grumpily. ϟ

❂

Faeron fell into step after the older Altmer, bowing his head against the feeling of embarrassment that welled up inside his breast. This was just marvelous. Usually he did not encounter those he reeducated at Thalmor parties, and the whole situation was completely and utterly foreign to him as he followed the other mer. 

The younger Elf ducked his head as a gust of cold Skyrim wind blew his pale hair back. The Thalmor Commander stepped over to the railing and rested his arms on it, watching Estormo out of his peripheral vision. He supposed it was useless to ask how the other male was feeling, no doubt that would open an entirely new can of worms. 

She gestured for Firiel to follow, giving the mer an encouraging smile, “They should let someone with your status in, at least. Only one way to know for sure though.”

The mage had no doubts that a member of the Thalmor could pretty much go wherever they liked in Skyrim. Though his presence was likely to stir up rumors and make some Nords uncomfortable. Especially the crazy old want-to-be priest that spouted off about Talos at the city’s center.

“Oh, does Lielle really think so.” Firiel asked as he fell into step alongside her. “Firiel is only a Thalmor Commander. He does not have that much political power.“ At least without a proper warrant for it, derived from the White-Gold Concordant. 

The Altmer’s large ears twitched as he heard distant shouting about maggots and filth, and his emerald eyes flickered over to where a large statue of Talos stood, a man dressed in yellow robes standing before it. 

“What is that?”

Nosy by nature, the womer couldn’t help but lift her head to glimpse again at the other Altmer and whatever he was jotting down, after she had settled down and opened her book. Elerrína hadn’t expected him to look up at the same time as she did, which caused her cheeks to lightly flush and her ears to slightly flatten, as she responded with an equally gentle smile and a nod of her head.

Firiel allowed a smile towards the womer, resting one of his hands on the edge of his book and tilting his head to one side as  Elerrína spoke to him. 

“It is my research on Dwemeris and its dialects between Morrowind and Skyrim clans of Deep Elves.” He said, making another note in the margins with a quick scratch of his quill. He did not notice her flush, moreso engrossed in his work. 

“Ah.” Faeron said softly, his brows furrowing. An expression akin to uncertainty flickered across his face before completely disappearing. “That is good.” He added, glancing off to one side. He relieved a passing servant of a glass of wine and downed half of it in one gulp, before nodding. “I was thinking of doing the same, actually.” As much as he loved parties, Elenwen’s little soirees were not really his cup of tea. 

Another bracing sip of wine saw the younger Altmer following suit, his steps muffled on the thick, plush rugs that covered the floor of the Embassy. “I hope you would not mind some company?”

The continued small talk was nice, and made the trip to Whiterun much more pleasant. Not that the trip was all that long, but any trip could feel as such when spent in silence. 

“Oh.” The Altmer beside the mage lifted a hand to shield his eyes from the glare of the sun. He had smiled and talked animatedly throughout their entire venture, and it had not stopped since they had reached Whiterun. Despite the suspicious glare of the guards and peoples’ mutterings, Firiel seemed undeterred. “Firiel sees it. Does pretty Lielle think they would let us in?”

The taller mer sighed softly as Sieralon leat back against him, before he clapped a large hand on the younger mer’s shoulder, before gently pushing him forwards, gruffing something affirmative to the mage as he walked slowly behind him.

Sanyail looked about him for a few seconds more, his green-gold eyes moving over the ramparts and battlements in search for more foes, before he gave a soft snort of satisfaction upon seeing none. Hefting his huge battle-axe in one hand, the large mer began to wander off along the wall, looking for Estira, who could be heard dispensing orders in an adjacent courtyard that held a ramshackle shack for stables near one bulwark.

      { ❂ Forcing a swallow, the Thalmor Commander allowed his gaze to drift to the floor, something akin to embarrassment running through him; he did not usually forget such details lightly. He cleared his throat roughly, before stepping after the retreating mer, walking cautiously so as not to startle the other male or make him feel threatened. Without a doubt, he was most likely already on edge, clearly having recognized Faeron. ❂ }