Open thє вαnnєrєd mαrє - wнen laмвѕ вecoмe lιonѕ and тнe groυnd crιeѕ

[Wolfie]

Two figures walked up to the door to the Bannered Mare, talking in hushed voices.

"The world is dangerous, Isunder. This one worries for you." As the lamplight dawned on their faces, it could be told that the one here talking was a narrow-eyed youth - a Khajiit woman, with fur that was, in a state of surprise, a dry white. Her eyes were like clearing amber glass, and her ears were long and sleek, lacking backwards with obvious displeasure. She walked with a clear grace, like a sabrecat leaning into the shadows. Her voice had a very odd accent to it - a mixture between regular Khajiit accent and the Nordic tongue. She took great pride into her voice. The Khajiit's build was very slightly muscled - the tension mostly seemed to hang in her step and face.

"The only thing you should be worrying about is what time the sun may rise, my old friend," the other replied. His eyes were grey stones fixated into a deep-toned face, sharply structured and adorned with a beard that was as black as the armor of a Daedra and that matched his long, glossy jet-black hair that tumbled downwards into a rather manly low ponytail, with shorter strands of hair curling behind his ears and a swipe of them dancing on the side of his forehead. An Imperial, obviously, with a straight-standing persona to him. He was quite muscular, with eyes that curved upwards and quite the build to him - a warrior type of person, yet he partly lacked the step needed for one. "Really, Maj'riik," Isunder continued, looking at the woman with a laughing look to his expression. "I don't claim that much trouble."

"You'd be surprised," Maj'riik muttered. "Thank you," she added as he opened the door for her. The Khajiit woman walked into The Bannered Mare, eyes glancing keenly around the scene. Seemed rather normal. Siguard was sitting in his seat, staring down into his tankard of ale and muttering to himself. Others were scattered about. Maj'riik and Isunder headed to one of the benches, sitting down and falling silent for a moment. Maj'riik silently wallowed in her own silent world, albeit the noise that she ignored around her. Isunder, on the other hand, looked around, his expression partially unclear.

(Just jump right in, no form really needed. Look at my signature to further your knowledge of my characters, if need or wish be~)

 

[Patricia]

Myra stumbled in to the Bannered Mare, exhausted from her travels, but delighted she would be staying for awhile. She didn't have to cast a protection spell on anything in Whiterun, and was glad to have a safe bed to sleep in. She payed the inn-keeper her dues, and set her things in her room. Out of a bag she pulled a large bottle of Cyrodiilic Brandy and borrowed a mug from the Inn's kitchen, and poured herself some. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a pair of people; a Khajiit woman, who seemed lost in her thoughts, and... an Imperial man! Finally, someone from Cyrodiil! She hurriedly got another mug and poured some of her brandy in. While it's always nice to meet new people, I was even better to meet some one fairly close to home. She hadn't been raised in Cyrodiil, but she had studied it, and been on many trips with her mother to visit her grandparents. She looked enough like a purebred Imperial that the man would most likely feel at home, though her high and tilted eyes and long narrow face, and of course, her tall stature, might raise questions. But still, someone to meet from the mother country! She took the two mugs over to the Imperial man, and was a little nervous. How to strike a conversation in which she could ask so many questions and keep it going? Perhaps if she kept the whole bottle by her side... "Excuse me, would you like some of my brandy? It's from Cyrodiil, and I figured you could use a taste of home. I've been here for years, and still get homesick.", she asked with a smile, holding the mug out for him to take. "I'm Myra Aredreyna. Who are you?"

 

[Wolfie]

This brought a smile to Isunder's lips. "Ah! Brother Veralyn's brandy!" He looked at her. She looked much like a native Imperial, except for the tilted eyes, narrow face, and height. It was enough for him at the moment, though he could feel Maj'riik's eyes turn onto them. The Khajiit was always so wary - but he did understand. "You can call me Isunder," he indroduced himself, as not to be rude.

 

[Patricia]

"So, where in Cyrodiil are you from?", she inquired, sitting down at a table facing them. She didn't want to impose more than she already had.

 

[Wolfie]

"Bruma, originally. I traveled around home quite often," Isunder replied. He felt Maj'riik nudge his arm, and glanced at her quickly before looking at Myra again. "And you? You mainl look like one of my kin." Maj'riik watched, always curious and always wary.

 

[Patricia]

"Well, my mother is from the Imperial City. I grew up... Else where. But I've taken many visits to see my family. I go back as often as I can. Though, It does look different from when I was little. It seems more... worn. Less colorful. It seems the war has taken it's toll there, as well as here. Of course, from what I've heard, Skyrim has always looked so bleak. Are you part of a house? I'm not really allowed to, quote my grandmother, 'mingle', on my visits, so I don't know many other Imperials. I'd disobey her, but if you've ever even seen a painting or image of Lady Facian in her age, you'd stay where you're supposed to, too. Oh, but i'm rambling." Myra felt a little more comfortable talking to Isunder. He was friendly, and friendly was scarce in her travels in Skyrim.

 

[Wolfie]

She was rambling, but the sound has relaxed Isunder into a calmer state of mind around this strange woman. His long black hair, drawn into a low ponytail, glinted like obsidan in the lighting from the social (meaning that it's placed as a means of a place for friends and strangers to gather) fire, and his grey eyes were focused on her in a base, thoughtful kind of way. "It's fine," he told her. "This is ... one ... of the first time I've seen another from beautiful Cyrodiil." He smiled slightly. "Where the grass is green and not white. I'm not part of a particular house, but I did spend quite a period at the Mages Guild in the Imperial City. I studied the lore of the Oblivion Crisis there But the lycanthropic lore and the ancient archetectual history drew me here, and I haven't been able to find my way out yet." His facial color rose slightly. "Look at me, rambling on." He chuckled lightly at himself.

Maj'riik looked at him. "Really? Usually you are as quiet as the wolves when they stalk their prey."

Isunder looked at his companion with a bemused look. "That was a delicate time," he complained in reply to her.

To which Maj'riik shook her head slightly at him and looked at Maya. "To be 'sociable'. You can call this one Maj'riik," she introduced herself. Shortly afterwards, she fell silent again, which she seemed very comfortable with. Being inside was so limiting - nobody could see the landscape stretching onward for ages - but she looked at it differently it it was raining. Or if lightning was caressing the ground. Her ears were tilted back slightly, the base white shadowing into a light grey. Myramak, her silver bow, was slung across her back, and she was presently carrying a set of Orcish arrows in a quiver attached to her left thigh.

 

[Patricia]

Myra wasn't quite used to the way Khajiit spoke, all in metaphors, but something about it felt warm. A little cheesy, but warm. She thought about offering Maj'riik some brandy, but she figured it would put her in an uncomfortable place. She didn't seem to like to talk. She almost asked how they had become friends, but realized it would have been rude. "I came here for... You know, I'm not sure why I came here. I guess to seek new places and meet new people, and perhaps enroll in the college. Though, the Nords don't seem to like me much. It's kind of amazing how they can identify my heri-.", she stopped cold. She wouldn't go in to her family matters unless she was asked. It'd be impolite to make a conversation all about herself. In what sense would it be a conversation then? "Anyway, I don't have many friends. Of course, I wouldn't make many friends anywhere. Usually I prefer to make friends with the flora and fawna. When I was small, all of my grandparents were afraid I was a mute I was so unsocial. But, I grew out of it. I have a lot of fond memories of spending all my time mixing potions and tonics and spreads. I once made a paste out of a spadetail and a patch of weeds I found. Never found out what they were. My father, being the generous man he is, let me put some on a burn he had. Turns out the concoction was acidic. Made it even worse... He was fine, though, it wasn't a quick reacting spread. And then he had an allergic reaction to the lotion the REAL healer had him use. What a year... What was your childhood like, if you don't mind me asking?". Myra loved to talk, but she loved to listen more. She poured more brandy in to their mugs, and sat back with open ears.

 

[Wolfie]

Isunder took a sip of the brandy, closing his eyes momentarily. It was definitely a late vintage, maybe been in for a good several years. In Cyrodiil ... he mentally shook the thought away and replied: "I didn't play with people my age. I liked to be with the adults, but they didn't like me being with them. So instead I took to reading and slipping out from home whenever my parents weren't home. It wasn't until my father and I got separated by a bear attack that I realized wandering was not always the best option. He fell ill by disease and couldn't be cured in time. I escaped in a better manner." He turned so that she could see two faint, long white lines of scars that stretched across the base of his neck. "Anyways - after my father died, I took to staying in my room long periods and studying deeply about lore. It saved me - and led me here, to where we now sit and talk."

Maj'riik watched as he paused and looked at her. "I first met Maj'riik when I was exiting the Mages Guild; she was trying to sneak into the building for a scroll, but I had mercy on her soul." The nightblade's eyes - a fierce burning orange-amber - met Isunder's for a moment, but she didn't reply. This was why so many nicknamed her 'Silence', after all. More like silent havoc at times, but at the moment she felt calm enough.

 

[Patricia]

Myra looked down at her cup shamefully. Here she was happily remembering her father, who was in good health, and still alive for that matter, when this man had such a tragic story to his own. She often forgot of the hardships of other people. One of the drawbacks of being brought up in a happy home. "That sounds like a good thing to do, but I think you've embarrassed her. She appears to be trying to light your head on fire with her eyes. Oh, my turn. I jest, of course. Sort of.", she laughed, and immediately regretted saying. Her mind raced for a way to get on track again. "Ah, one of my mother's sibling married a Khajiit. Nasty man with huge teeth and jagged nails. Hairy and crude, and I saw him lick himself once. My mother's brother. Never was there a more disgusting Imperial man."
She discreetly looked a Maj'riik, hoping for some kind of smile. "Myra, you've dug an even deeper hole!", she thought to herself, taking a large gulp of her drink. "Sorry... I'm not good at jokes..."

 

[Wolfie]

Maj'riik respected her attempt, but it wasn't exactly a joke to her ears. She gave a slight acknowledging smile to try and put the woman at ease, though.

"It's fine," Isunder shrugged, though looking a slight more expressively-sober.

 

[Patricia]

"Thinkthinkthinkthinkthinkthinkthinkthink", Myra thunk. (That was intentional. Also, this is really fun!) "Have you ever used a bound sword? I major in Conjuration, but I've never done more with them than give it a swing to make sure it was corporeal. I don't run in to trouble, much, so I don't really have a use for them. When I do, it tends to be a bear or a wolf, and I don't like hurting them, so I use a taming spell mostly. It's one of the few spells in the Illusion school I can do easily. However, I hate rabbits. I'll kill them if I see them. Beady eyes, creepy teeth... Makes my skin crawl. And Antronach's... Those are really useful. They get out of control quickly, though.", she said, drifting off. She felt she had, for the most part, patched things up, and now she had made certain he was a fellow mage, she wanted to talk magic. Most of the mage's at the college were not advanced, and got nervous easily when she brought up something they hadn't learned about. He had clearly graduated, and seemed to know what she was talking about. The innkeeper stoked the fire and she unpinned her cloak. But, due to the thickness of her Winterhold college robes, which had several different pieces, she was still too hot. She unwrapped the shawl and took off the sleeves, and felt a bit more comfortable. (Trying to make it more realistic... I imagine the College robes are a bit like Airbender robes from Avatar, which shown by LoK, are made up of different parts.) Were the Inns in Skyrim always kept so hot? She couldn't remember.

 

[Wolfie]

"I'm not big on conjuration," Isunder replied. "More of restoration and alteration magic. Maj'riik focuses more on illusion - I was just at the Mages Guild for lore study."

Maj'riik looked at Myra and shrugged. "If they don't see you, they never will." Obviously, she was a sneak-mage type.

 

[Patricia]

"When in illusion magic, that is always true. Unless you're low leveled... One of the novices at the college tried to retrieve a staff he had been studying from a frost troll. I'm not certain what he was doing with it outside; Winterhold doesn't exactly have 'springtime weather'. So, he had a more burly adept come with him for back up. HE made it back. Half way to the staff, his invisibility spell faltered, and the troll got ahold of him. The adept hit him with a few well places fire spells, and took the staff back to the college to tell what happened. I think he was lying about the "well placed" fire spells. It's far more likely he flailed about like a doll shooting it everywhere.", she said matter-of-factly. "Illusion magic is beyond my skill, for the most part. You must be very well studied, or very gifted. Either way, you are most impressive. Perhaps I could see you in action some time?", said Myra to Maj'riik.

 

[Fevershaking]

*OCC:Hope you guys don't mind me joining in. If you do ill delete my post*
Gen walked into the doors of The Bannered Mare. He didn't drink much but he knew after the contract he just completed, He needed it. He walked up to the Bartender and asked"Could i get an Argonian ale please?" . He sat down, waiting and ready to purchase his drink and leave.

 

[Wolfie]

{{Ah! I was afraid that this thread was dying out! Thanks ^^)

"Maj'riik would be ... pleased ... to show you an example," the fiery amber of the Khajiit's eyes disappeared and reappeared like a young fire as she blinked. Her ears pressed back slightly. Cool air brushed against her fur faintly as the door opened, bringing in the fresh scent of an Argonian.
She did not know of any Argonians in Whiterun, so this one must be some kind of traveler. She glanced over at Gen at the corner of her eyes.

"Of course," Hulda replied warmly, fetching him a bottle of Argonian ale and setting it on the counter between them.

 

[Fevershaking]

(OCC: Sweet . Oh btw im on mobile right now cant color my texts.)
Gen looked up when he heard the bottle of the cold drink come down on the counter. He pulled out some septims, ready to pay. He handed the money over, and opened his ale. He then realised he had someone observing him, A khajitt? 'Hope i didnt blow my cover on a contract' he thought to himself. Then he realized shes probably just a traveler. He looked towards her. 'Maybe i should just try being freindly and come to the conclution shes not trying to kill me' he thought. "Hey?" He yelled to her. "Want a drink?".

 

[Wolfie]

Maj'riik's ears slid back in disapproval at the loud ... Sociable ... Sound.she shook her head slightly at him and replied "I don't drink."

(Lol same...I'm on mobile, so can't color or otherwise change my text. It's so annoying!)

 

[Fevershaking]

He was suprised by her anwser. Gen was a little annoyed 'You try to be nice to someone...' He said to himself. 'Oh well, less money out my pocket'. "Okay" He said "Suit yourself". His suspicions then arose. Is she a assassin of some kind? Was he so careless that he led someone right to him? He knew Khajiits were well known for there assassin and thievery skills, and she didn't look like a theif to him. He hastily tried to finnish his drink, but didn't leave right away. Last thing he wanted was to be ambushed. He observed her curiously for a moment. He found it strange to find a Khajiit with completely whit fur. Then he immediately stopped staring at her, Knowing she would notice him.

 

[Patricia]

(I had completely forgotten about this thread *pokerface*)
Myra had apparently sunk in to the floor, and was none too impressed with this new stranger. She was standing right there. She shook her head and turned back to them. "Thank you. But... Might I ask, why you've come here? To Skyrim?", she asked, twisting her wedding band on her finger.