#astarill

Oh, wouldn’t he laugh. I’ll have to tell him what I overheard. ‘A scream from the barrow! The soul of some long-dead woman haunting her resting place, begging for release...’

It would be a lie to say Raserei was above the racial tensions that have grown in Skyrim, at least with the Altmer. The golden-skinned elves made his jaw tighten a little whenever he saw one. 

He knew they weren’t all to blame for the current state of things, and surely not all of them give a damn about Talos worship, and to be honest, Talos wasn’t his main god of worship, but he was also one you gave praise to as a Nord. Even if you were a Nord originally from Bruma. 

Still, he did his best to hold reservation until he spoke to one; he didn’t want to sound or even be compared to UIfric and rhetoric he has been preaching on about. 

So when he noticed one of the tall elves near the gates of Whiterun the Nord could only imagine the growing panic and unease among the guards. He wouldn’t be surprised if they weren’t scrambling to Jorrvasker in hopes one of the Companions would deal with it to help up with this ever failing neutrality Bulgruff wished to keep.

“Hail!” Raserei called out, “We don’t see Altmer out this way too often; can I ask why you are here?” 

prompt

I’ve heard some of theother apprentices talking about him and his courses. They sound interesting. Ithought about taking one myself, but it wouldn’t be of much use to me.

@astarill

My Dearest Friend,

I hope this letter finds you well, and somewhere that isn’t currently being drenched in miserable rain despite the calendar, I’m quite certain, heralding summer. It’s been good for our garden, but difficult for getting business done otherwise, especially for travelling to Riften as often as we have been.

You see, we’ve finally taken the risk of expanding some of our business there. It’s a bit tricky – old Elgrim is a cantankerous bastard – but even he acknowledges there are problems he doesn’t care to deal with, that we can address. Our pest poisons are doing particularly well. I do advise you, should you visit Riften, stay away from the River Betty Bunkhouse. You pay out the nose for better, but from what I’ve sold to that Innkeep you’re like to lose a toe to a rat in your sleep.

I’ve also developed a good business relationship with a local hunter. Burly, doesn’t talk much, doesn’t take shit. You’d like him. Asked if I needed the ‘barbs of a sabre cat’s dick for some sad sack who can’t get it up’, I believe it was, when I first approached him. It’s nice to have a good supply of antlers and teeth, and Haelga’s fair taken with him. They’ve ‘knocked boots’ more than once, over the past year. It’s nice to see her not just withering away, locked up in a cottage full of dusty old vials and – well, a dusty old woman.

In fact, Haelga has really grown into her own as an alchemist this year, not to mention as a businesswoman. It was her idea to approach the locals inns about pest control. I’m exceedingly proud of her – frankly, she’s more hardworking and clever than half the students were in Winterhold. How goes your own teaching endeavors? I hope you haven’t endured too much exposure to nobility. Tends to numb the brain something awful.

To put it simply, all is well here. At times I crave a little adventure, but the occasional trip to Riften offers a nice change of pace when necessary. I am as content as I can be, if desperately in need of a lay. Can’t help but giggle every time I pass the barrow, even now, and honey always tastes a little sweeter when I think of you.

I know better than to fill this letter with the thousands of questions I’d like to. You’ll share as you feel appropriate, I think. I’ll just have to remember any particularly burning ones for the next time we meet in person.

I miss you terribly. Give my best to your family, and write back soon.

How strange.

It was good to be home, at least - although it was more that home now came to them, these days, thanks to Relmyna’s mastery of that particular ritual. A cavern, a forgotten ruin, a barrow - any sufficiently large space would work to bring the mimicry of Relmyna’s sanctum to them.

Familiar smells, familiar sounds. Prisoners wailing, screaming, thrashing in their cells and their experiments. The waft of smoke and blood and incense, strange flowers not found on this side of the planes. All familiar, comforting.

But he’d been familiar, too, and she found no comfort in that.

The Khajiit yawned hugely, teeth flashing in the low light of the Arcaneum. He hadn’t been sleeping on a book this time, thank the Hist. He gave his jaw a little push, cracking his stiff neck and rubbing it, slowly adjusting to being awake.

“Don’ mind them, ‘cept the Thalmor whelp can go get lost in a blizzard for all I care. Sometimes he and J’zargo get competitive and it’s just best to leave the area before someone other than them gets singed.” J’hasi rubbed the side of his jaw, eyes flicking down to his text, glad that it was his homework he fell asleep on rather than his…unorthodox research. He cleared his throat, some of the raspiness in his voice giving way for a quiet roughness instead.

“I mostly keep to myself, but it’s…kinda difficult to practice some of our spells alone, so I try to find Brelyna if she’s free. At least she shows some remorse for when her spells go wrong and I have to deal with turning into a-” He snapped his mouth shut, shaking his head.

“Nevermind. Onmund is similarly easy to get along with, though J’zargo I’ve been trying to avoid when possible since the last fiasco.” J’hasi shuddered a little, shaking his head as if to clear the bad memories from it.

“I haven’t dealt with many other students at the College other than them. Koussikka seemed nice, but he doesn’t seem to stick around the College for long periods of time, or I just happen to miss him when I go off grounds.” The Khajiit shrugged.

“Tolfdir is a good teacher. Patient. Hist knows he needs it when it’s time for me to cast.” He stretched, his shoulders popping as his arms spread over his books and papers, clawtips just barely reaching some of the only bare space left on the table, then he arched his neck and back, a chorus of pops and cracks emanating from his spine. J’hasi huffed out a sigh, the barest hint of a smile on his lips as he rolled his shoulders.

“That’s better.” He swiped over his face.

“The other professors are alright. Collette…she tends to go onto tangents in lecture and it’s hard for me to follow if it’s relevant to what she’s actually trying to teach. My notes in her class are…difficult to refer back to because of how much I’ve had to cross out because she was remarking on something that happened earlier that day than the actual magic she was teaching.” The Khajiit yawned again, rubbing his trap in hopes to loosen it up.

“Most of the other classes go alright. As uh…alright as they can, I suppose. It’s difficult for me to cast anything, so I’m not sure if I’m misunderstanding the spell, or if it’s something in when I’m casting. Faralda’s classes always make me nervous, not so much because of her teaching, but because of when I have to cast and knowing that I’ll have to go to Collette afterwards moreso than with other classes. ...I actually…surprisingly...miss Astarill’s classes.” He swallowed.

“I mean, I’m fine around dead bodies so long as they stay dead, but when we’re working on them to prep them for reanimation…it’s physical, it’s there, I can be told outright if I’m doing something wrong because Astarill can see what I’m doing wrong. Though um…he did say that there’s something wrong with me when I’m casting so I guess he could see that too?” The topic of the mer’s apparent but possibly-not-actual blindness had been the whispered discussion of Onmund and Brelyna on more than one occasion. J’hasi sighed.

He arched a brow, turning his head to look at her. The small smirk curling the corner of his mouth was probably enough to convey to her what he would’ve said if he’d been in more of a joking mood: That he should bloody well hope she was glad, if she was still here. She accepted his invitation, after all, and it wasn’t even on pain of death.

But, he wasn’t in enough of a joking mood, so instead he had a sip of his mulled wine, nodded, and returned his attention to the crowd, people-watching.

“Feeling’s mutual.”

A little chuckle left her as he turned back to the crowd. She took the opportunity to rest her head against his shoulder, sighing contentedly aloud. “I’ve needed this. Gods, I’ve needed this. Just a chance to relax for a bit, you know?” She stretched out, flexing her fingertips and cracking her joints, then rubbing warmth into her arms. “I’m a damn mess at the shop lately. Keep forgetting little things. Overworked, I think, and this is the best possible cure.”