Haleth's heart beat in her throat, and she pressed herself closer to the tree; it had been a mistake to follow reports of vampire activity so far from home, but— how could she resist? She was Dragonborn, hero of legend. Protector of Skyrim. And the daughter of a woman slain by one of the bloodsuckers, a mother that might be in Coldharbour even now because of Movarth Piquine. The little Dunmer drew a short, shallow breath, and gripped the blessed glass dagger in one hand. "The dead are just that— dead. Nothin' scary about 'em!" she called, thu'um bouncing off the trees, off the snow-capped mountains, in an effort to distract the vampire.

Haleth walked alongside the older Dunmer atop a fallen log; surely, he'd been sent after her, sent to drag her out of whatever old Nord ruin she'd dug herself into in search of more Words. Every now and again, she kicked at the rotting bark of her pearch, though Dalamus's words— praise?— nearly made her slip. "My parents?" she asked with a scoff, brows flicking up in surprise. "Anovis— Ata— he barely knows anything about me, and my Alma…." Her ears flicked back, and she looked away, turning to walk down the log, but not before giving a knot on the fallen tree's trunk a mighty kick. "If my Alma has any feelings about me, she's been awfully quiet at the Waiting-Door."

The little elf watched the Imperial as he loomed over her, sure that at any moment he'd decide she was little more than a filthy thief, and end her life right then and there. Her eyes squeezed shut, breaths still light and quick in fear... but the expected blow never arrived. Her heart was still in her throat, of course, and she squirmed against the wall in his grip, and under his watchful eye.

Now, in the dim candlelight, she could, indeed, tell that this man who'd caught her was the very same she'd helped; and now he was surely going to snitch on her to the man in charge. She'd be dragged into the dungeon, never be able to return her books to High Hrothgar, or say goodbye to her family. So much for gratitude, she thought to herself, though she bit her tongue even as he released her; she brushed herself off, though the young Dragonborn kept close to the wall, like a frightened animal, and looked down, ears pinned back. "I wasn't doing anything wrong!" she cried. "I— I mean..." She was trespassing, to be sure. In the middle of the night. With the General still here, surely. Haleth would be in trouble no matter what, or who, she'd run into that night. "I wasn't going to do anything important."

@dalamusrex

With the rising of the sun came the waning of the New Life celebrations; food and drink, all strange and new to the young Dragonborn, and dancing, all through the night. Haleth's head lulled against her Ata's friend; the Telvanni had entrusted her to Dalamus, after all, to see her home now that the celebration was over. And, truth be told, she was glad that the older Dunmer was strong enough to carry her back to her father's Tel; so tired was she that she didn't even mind the fungal stench that came along with living in, as she put it, a 'big, smelly mushroom'.

@shadows-of-almsivi

The New Life was strange this year; smaller than usual, with just her great-grandfather, newly-found father, and one or two long-lost friends— at least, friends of her parents and grandparents; and now, even a cousin. A much older cousin, but a cousin nonetheless. As the clock struck midnight, Haleth flitted from guest to guest. She'd been told, once, that it was Dunmer tradition to share kisses with family upon the New Year, so she'd vowed to do just that; she moved through the small crowd gathered in her great-grandfather's home a quick kiss on the cheek, before moving on to the next person.

At long last, she arrived at the last guest, one who remained in the corner, shy of the rest of the party; likely the last to show up, though she hadn't really even seen him enter. "Happy New Life!" she said, hopping up to give the older mer a kiss, before hopping up to sit on the counter next to him.

The older mer might not have even sensed it, had she not been awake to hear it and warn him. The younger Dunmer coiled closer to the ground, like a little garden snake caught by a larger predator. The dragon's booming Voice echoed in her ears and made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. Her heart thudded in her head, and the girl's hands flew to cover her ears, eyes squeezing shut. Whatever this dragon was saying, all the way up there in the clouds, she wanted nothing to do with it. And with any luck, it hadn't seen them. Haleth frowned, a hand falling away from one ear as she tried to listen for the beast's departure. That was the only thing that would make her feel better about the situation. 

She looked over to her companion, hiding in the brush, and winced; she'd dragged him to such a dangerous situation, and for what? Still, if nothing else, at least he could tell his fellow Dunmer that the dragons were, in fact, real. She opened her mouth to whisper something to Dalamus, but her breath caught in her throat. She recognized that shout the dragon used; it was the very same one the Greybeards had used to call her to High Hrothgar. The beast wasn't hunting them, it wanted a challenge. Rage bubbled in her stomach, and she almost took the bait. Almost. She sat perfectly still on the ground, away from the dying fire, gripping her cloak as she squeezed her eyes shut.

answered || @dalamusrex

It was with some hesitation that she traveled with the older Dunmer; after all, he had a strange energy to him-- one that made her itch, like there were something wrong with his life force. Still, traveling with a friend of her estranged father was better than traveling with no one at all: dragonborn that she was, the young elf was still learning to control her magic, to speak nothing of actually using it in a proper battle. She'd fallen fast asleep though beside the fire, her back to the warmth of the flame.

The young Dunmer frowned, eyes squeezing shut as she tried to feel the ebb and flow of magicka through her hands, from her mind to her fingertips, just as he ancestors had instructed. Instruction and practice, however, were two very different things. With the summoning circle etched out in a fine chalk, each small soul gem in its bounding place. Just a simple scamp, that was all she was to summon. It was a basic summoning, something that shouldn’t have taken longer than an hour and yet the girl had been at her studies for far longer, distracted by the snow that drifted sluggishly down from an overcast sky. With a final glance to the old book she read from, Haleth stood, walking over to the window and peering out, absently breathing on the glass and drawing a small tree in the condensation, then a three-storied house, then two stick figures. 

There was a sharp knock on the door, and the sound of a young Nord outside, demanding to know when he could practice his summoning. Haleth yelped, stumbling off her ledge on the windowsill. “One second! One second!”