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"So what does it feel like?" Phy said after the dust had settled. The two women had been on their way back from a job in Whiterun, a job from Vex at the Drunken Huntsman. Her Bosmer friend was acquainted with the two brothers, so few those from their homeland this far north, they made an effort to be known to each other. It was easy, they both came in and while Theodora pretended to browse for arrows as if she was competent with a bow, the other distracted the two. They waited for evening to come, when Anoriath returned from the market as the more lively one was key. In truth what was key was how different the siblings were, one brother still a skilled huntsmen, sold his game in the town square: a Bosmer living among Nords, but still Valenwood to his core. Theodora had spent enough time there to recognize the traditional types. Elrindir however, why he'd lived among Nords long enough to become indistinguishable from one himself. So that is where Phy began, asking his brother if he thought the Merchant was looking more pale, his face rounder, as if he was transforming.
"He doesn't even care for Rotmeth anymore!"
"We've got to make some and have him chug his weight's worth. That will fix him, Anoriath." They roared in laughter over it while Theodora had long snuck away, the circlet placed in her crossbody bag, a standard tunic covered up any traces of the armour that lied underneath. Phy bought a few arrows, they bid the brothers fair well and none were the wiser. The job was easy, what followed was not.
Or rather, she did not think it so. The aftermath of seeing her best friend's eyes wide, staring at her as if she had seen the unfathomable, for she had. Few beyond the borders of Skyrim were familiar with the stories, the Cryodiil-born Dragonborn included, an among those none living had witnessed the sight; until over a year ago. Theodora witnessed a dragon, felt the heat of its fire as the rubble collapsed. Then she took one's soul. Not the same one, not the obsidian beast that destroyed the fort, although it inadvertently saved her life from the block. Her nation prioritized efficiency to all Oblivion, never had she thought she'd be sentence to death for a crime she didn't do. The woman had done a treasure trove of acts against the Emperor's law, even born from a mother who broke the laws of her family to be with her father. The Gods were as cruel as they were absent, perhaps even crueler as the moment she made peace with death, they spared her. And the moment she sought an end to the confusion that followed Helgen; finding the Dragonstone, the Draugr, the strangeness of this land when she had been to Mournhold of all places, the Gods gave her a duty.
"Didn't you hear that thundering sound as you returned to Whiterun? That was the voice of the Greybeards, summoning you to High Hrothgar! This hasn't happened in ... centuries, at least. Not since Tiber Septim himself was summoned when he was still Talos of Atmora!" It was already so much, being arrested by the Imperial Legion, a near execution, two dragons, but the Court Wizard's mention of her in relation to the Septims? That had been enough to send her packing, accepting Thaneship from the Jarl, lying about how she would be going to these Greybeards, and stealing a horse to head for Morrowind instead. She got close, before she got caught under assumption the horse was what it was; stolen. It would seem a ragged woman on a horse is indicative of theft. So much time had passed between then and now, Phy joined her and the two of them were running with the Guild until they had the money to head West. Desperately, leave all this Nord nonsense behind. Yet, Theodora had the sneaking suspicion she would not be able to, that her time in Skyrim had only just begun. For now, the Bosmer had witnessed her fight a dragon, see the change in her as she went from merely a skilled fighter, to some frezied beast herself, not unlike the one at Helgen; their souls made of the same thing, supposedly.
"It's hard to describe." She said, an attempt to provide her dearest friend an answer. "I feel like I'm a horse…"
"You feel like a horse?" The mer cocked an eyebrow at her, the expression extreme as were many of hers.
"I wasn't done," a finger pointed loosely at her for emphasis. "I feel like I am horse drawn to a cart on a journey. I am the one moving, going through the motions, but I am not commanding myself."
"So you like, lose control? Over yourself?"
"Somewhat, more something is driving me, something that feels like me, yet not me at the same time." The muscles in her face were now tensed and Theodora relaxed them when she spoke next. "It feels nearly familiar in a way, I think so at least?" An effort to avoid discussing how it truly felt, the glimpses of it her mind allowed her to remember. How it felt primal, ancient, that after a life of sneaking around to get by, she finally felt that she had power. Power the likes of which people drive themselves to unspeakable ends for, domineering, the kind to break wills. Thieving aside, the Imperial was always more inadvertently powerful, speaking honeyed words and collecting a variety of people thus to have a variety of services available. Prior to coming to Skyrim, she was in the midst of a blooming career in the Arena, she did not have a shot at the Championship merely through her battle prowess. In part the sport was a performance, and she could perform well. Now however, whilst facing a dragon, she'd gotten a taste at how Tiber built the Empire; one that felt bitter on her tongue. An understanding that should the soul inside her take over, a new empire would rise from the crumbles of this one.
"It was probably hard to watch." Theodora states, grounding herself in her mortality for the two do not share humanity, or so the histories say. "I'm sorry you were there." Her earlier comment about her poor marksmanship should be retracted, apparently she had been quite capable with a bow then, it plucked from the body of a partially eaten guard. From what Phy told her it was violent, the creature circling over them and suddenly, the Imperial was possessed. The only thing preventing her from having bashed its skull in then and there was the fact she could not fly; perhaps that would come in time. She had to wait for it to land to impale it with her steel swords. The other had to wipe the dragon's blood off of her, it must have been frightening. "I hope it did not make you fear me."
"Oh, it did." Her heart sank. Phy was the not only the one person she had here, she was the only one she had anywhere on Nirn. The childhood friend whose mother had been kind enough to take her in and save her from a life on the streets as she was too old for the orphanage. Whereas the rest of Tamriel saw Man and Mer as staunchly different, inherently incompatible, the two felt so similar. When they met, all it had taken to bond was each missing a parent and the fact their birthdays were a week apart; such is the beauty of children, they don't need much. And as they are so similar, have known each other over a decade, the Bosmer can sense her hurt. "Oh no, Theo, don't get it twisted. I was fearful of you in a good way, it was awe-inspiring really. The carnage, the intense look in your eyes, how you took down a fucking dragon? I thought those were from long past or even made up tales."
"Really?"
I wouldn't lie to you." Relieved, she can't help but smile at her friends words. Of course Phy Willowrun, the woman born with to hunt large game, would enjoy seeing her closest friend do the same. What game could be larger than a dragon? She even sworn she remembered the other lamenting it turned to bone, intrigued to taste dragon meat.
As Theodora sat back, sloughed in her unofficial seat at the Flagon, the other placed her elbows on the barcounter, palms holding her face as she leaned over towards her friend.
"I didn't know you were capable of that. It was kind of hot, actually."
"Physandra." She playfully scolded the mer using her proper first name. "Don't go falling in love with me now, what would your father think?" What would her Thalmor father think of his bastard mixed daughter with a human? How enraged he'd be to learn that it had already happened many times, with women who were actually Phy's type.
"It may kill him, perhaps I should write to him about my time in Skyrim so far. Maybe he'd even open them." The two laugh, the pain underneath her friend's complex blood family absent for now. "But don't count on it, sweetheart. I know better than to fall for straight women… now." She snickered at her. "Although, you do like mer. Good to know that is in my favour." The sentence is ended with a wink, to which Theodora rolled her eyes, gently shoving her.
"Speaking of mer, do you feel a little guilty about stealing from the Hunstmen? They are your kin, after all." Now, it is her turn to joke, to which she received a lesson in Bosmer culture. One she had no doubt heard before, but being reminded did not hurt.
"Rite of Theft, Theodora. We were able to get away with so it's rightfully ours. Anoriath would understand."
"And his Nord brother?" She smirked and the Bosmer followed.
"I guess we have a blood feud now. One that will last for generations," she took a swig of mead and chuckled. "Too bad I'm not having kids."