Long Days, Longer Nights

[EVDUL]

If you were to ask Evdul, who considered himself a quasi-expert on the subject of racism and general prejudice, the Nords and the Altmer were one and the same. They both made haughty claims about themselves, the Altmer thought they were the closest to the Nine, while the Nords clung to a sense of honor that apparently exonerated them from treating non-Nords like fellow humanoids. Although the Nords frequently forget the ruthless slaughter of the Snow Elves, the Altmer forgot of the atrocities they committed against all races aside from their own - the Nords especially, what with the Great War and everything. As he passed the border into Eastmarch, he pushed his steel plate helmet back down onto his head, partly due to the frigid winds assaulting him on all sides, but also to shield his face from Nords who might not look upon him kindly. So, each race was just as stubborn as an old sow, neither would back down from their pulpits until the other threw them down. Evdul sighed, how he wished things between the Altmer and Nords weren't so....messy. It wasn't that he despised either race, Evdul knew better than to blindly make assumptions now. There were bad apples-

Hmm....what he wouldn't give for a sweet apple right now. He'd have to wait until he made it to Windhelm, or perhaps a small Inn on the way. Ahhh, Windhelm...what a wonderful place, no? Despite what the Nords there might think of his people, Evdul thought Windhelm would be his safe haven from the Thalmor. Surely, the radical elves that had infected every other part of Skyrim would not be granted access past Windhelm's ice-covered walls. Credit where it's due, Nords had a great knack for driving back the Thalmor. If only he had been born a Nor- well if he had been born a Nord he wouldn't be having the problems he was currently dealing with, now would he? Evdul smiled to himself at the thought and pulled out his map. It would be dark soon enough, and he was hoping there was somewhere to spend the night before he got to Windhelm. The high elf let out a disappointed sigh, there was only Kynesgrove, but that was so close to Windhelm that it was almost useless to stop there.

He folded his map back up and slipped it back into the pack he wore. The high elf squinted his blue eyes, trying to peer past the glare of the sun. A mammoth slowly turns its head to look at him from across the barren tundra, he stared back at the creature for a moment before cautiously continuing along the path. The first time he had seen a Mammoth was...memorable, to say the least. His curiosity had gotten the better of him and he tried to get closer to grab a better look, only to be intercepted by an angry giant. He had never run so hard or fast in his life. He was extremely wary of those things nowadays, knowing very well that they could crush him easily - regardless of whether or not he was wearing armor. Even if he ran into a lone Giant with no mammoths to take care of, Evdul made sure to keep a twenty-foot radius between him and the creatures. Being squished was not something that seemed very....appealing to him.

A howl broke his myriad of thoughts. Evdul froze and warily glanced around him, seeing the hungry canines melt out from the broad shadows. Just three, at least this 'pack' was small. The wolves of Skyrim didn't seem to make travelling in a large pack a priority. A blue flame sprang forth from his hand and took the form of a sword, in the other an actual flame appeared. Ahh, destruction magic. How he adored it. The wolves launched themselves upon him, one taking the time to circle while the other went for his neck. The elf swung his sword quickly, slashing the wolf’s shoulder as the other bit down onto his armored boots. Evdul turned, kicked the beast away and cast a fireball at it. The wolf yelped as the flames, unaffected by the frigid winds trying to snuff it out, overtook its body. A whine reached the elf’s ears as his eyes flickered up to catch sight of the first wolf fleeing into the forested edges of the tundra. Sadly, the wolf would most likely be picked off by a bear, it couldn’t survive with those wounds. Evdul sighed and continued walking, perhaps he would end up stopping in Kynesgrove…

[DAERON]

Truthfully, the only thing that Daeron found appealing about Eastmarch was the fact that it housed Windhelm. That was the only reason he’d ever passed through the eastern region, and he couldn’t see himself returning there any time soon on different grounds. It wasn’t as much that he had anything against the place, but rather, he much preferred the other parts of Skyrim. Eastmarch just seemed somewhat barren compared to them, what with its stretching plains and mountain ranges. No, Eastmarch wasn’t the place for Daeron, and he couldn’t wait to see the towering walls of Windhelm ahead of him.

That could be for a while yet, however, especially since the Wood Elf was taking his time to get to the city. He didn’t like walking into a busy town in broad daylight. It was better to just enter while the guards were half asleep on late night duty, book a room from the bleary eyed innkeeper, do what you needed to do and leave the following light. Dae much preferred to keep on the low down in most business situations; that was, until a few tankards of mead got into him, of course. He’d almost failed a few jobs in his line of profession from nothing but such complacency.

The Bosmer wasn’t on a job this time, actually, but he’d still rather not let the guards see his face any more than they needed to while he was in the city. But, enough of planning ahead, he couldn’t even see the city on the horizon yet. Pulling his map out and frowning at it slightly, the copper-skinned elf realised that he’d completely lost track of where he was. Well, that wasn’t very good, especially since the sun was rapidly travelling westwards. Although he was fairly fond of the darkness and how well it could conceal a person, it did make travelling a pain.

A soft howl reached his ears, carried by the breeze. Fingers instinctively flexing to the daggers sheathed at his waist, he crept forward, brown eyes narrowing as he tried to locate the source of the sound. He saw the slender black wolves soon enough, heckling somebody else nearby – another mer, by the looks of it, although judging from the height he wasn’t a Bosmer. Daeron relaxed slightly, as the wolves clearly weren’t interested in him, and continued silently slinking towards the scene of the battle. If he wasn’t going to be able to fight in it himself, he may as well enjoy the show.

Dae had to admit, he was quite impressed by the elf’s fighting skills. While he’d never been a great fan of using magic himself, he could admire the skills needed to master destruction magic and other spells used for fighting. It required just as much practice and concentration as, say, sneaking, and he could see the appeal of it. However, the Bosmer himself didn’t quite trust himself on what he’d do with two fistfuls of fire, so he left well enough alone. It was for the best interests of the community, really.

He watched idly as the other man successfully fought the small pack of wolves off, sending them scattering away and continuing to walk along the path. Wait, maybe he was heading for Windhelm, too. After all, what else would anybody be doing in Eastmarch? It had barely anything else to offer. Daeron quickly set off after the elf, careful to keep his steps quiet – it was hard to tell if a fellow traveller would happily accompany you on your way, or attempt to gut you and steal your belongings. To be honest, when Dae had first spotted the other person, he’d considered doing the latter, but he could see now this mer was a force to be reckoned with. Had the Bosmer gone ahead and attacked him and lost the element of surprise, he’d have been doomed.

Catching up to the taller man, the Wood Elf stopped and cleared his throat loudly. His position was tense; he was completely ready to either spring away or spring into battle at any moment, for the possibility that he was about to get a fireball to the face was very real. “Travelling alone at such a time?” he queried, his voice smooth compared to the harsh winds that buffeted around the two mer. “That’s awfully dangerous, you know…” Daeron arched an eyebrow, taking another step forward and grinning wryly. “You can never tell what might be lurking in the shadows.”

[EVDUL]

The High Elf went rigid at the sound of another voice, his sword arm tensed and the flame reappeared in his hand, swelling as he turned around. A Bosmer? He bit his lip from under his helmet, well he wasn't exactly an Altmer...but that didn't mean he couldn't have been working for them. Evdul let the flame die down and disappear, not wanting to instigate a fight or to seem overtly hostile. The Bosmer hadn't even seen his face - so even if he was working for the Thalmor, there would be no plausible way for him to deduce that it was him. Evdul let the sword fade, leaving both his hands empty. Still, the Bosmer seemed just as rigid as Evdul was. He was either there to rob Evdul of all of his valuables [as if he had any], or the Bosmer also knew of the dangers of traveling alone in Skyrim - without horse or carriage that is. Bears, bandits, necromancers, Spriggans...all were daily threats to your average traveler. The stables and carriage drivers must get good business then....or the bears must eat like kings.

Evdul wiped some blood off his armor nonchalantly, never taking an eye off the Wood elf. "I suppose, are you one of those things that hides in the shadows?" Evdul's eyes narrowed from under his helmet, his voice; however, gave away his suspicion. Most of the people who had spoken to him in that tone, used those loaded questions...well they were usually bandits or robbers or...well there was this one vampire necromancer - but that's a different story for a different time. The high elf's hands dangled at his sides, a few sparks flying toward the ground in a warning. "If you're here to steal from me, then I'm sorry. I don't have anything for you to take." Did he really just apologize to a possible thief? Awkward. The Altmer bit his lip, hoping the Bosmer, if he was here to steal from him, would simply carry on down the path rather than outright attack him like many other thieves seemed keen on. Evdul didn't want to fight the Bosmer either, most battles in Skyrim tended to be to the death. Well, all battles in Skyrim were to the death, unless someone turned tail and ran for cover. In a land filled with honorbound Nords; however, that rarely happened.

(( So short, I'm sorry. If you 're having a hard time responding cuz I didn't give you enough to work with, tell me ;A; ))

[DAERON]

Daeron was just about ready to either make a getaway or defend himself as the elf turned around, flames and magical swords ready. His hand half flexed to his own dagger, but after a moment the taller man ‘sheathed’ his weapons by letting the fire sputter away and making his sword disappear. Dae visibly relaxed, but there was still some tension in his stature. He was all too familiar with sneak attacks, and lulling your enemy into a false sense of security before striking – gods, the majority of the time, he was the one pulling dirty tricks like that. Nothing personal, just business.

There was no point of the Bosmer even trying to brainstorm how or if to rob the other elf now. He’d lost the chance of a surprise attack completely by this point, which was something he always relied on. If he picked a fight face to face with this Altmer, he’d inevitably be dead in two minutes flat – and on the off chance he survived, or maybe even got away, he didn’t exactly fancy a faceful of fire. Besides, if his predictions were right and this stranger was travelling to Windhelm, it could be nice to have some company on the way there. When not on the job, Daeron was actually a very sociable person.

The Wood Elf chuckled lightly at the question shot back at him: ‘Are you one of those things that hide in the shadows?’ It was a fair question, he supposed. If somebody had snuck up behind him and made a few vaguely foreshadowing comments, the first thought he’d have had would be that the person wasn’t approaching them for friendly conversation.
“Ah… I’ll admit, usually I would be, yes.” Dae smirked a little, shrugging. There wasn’t exactly any point of pretending he was some kind of angelic peaceful traveller, because, well… he wasn’t. “I’m taking the day off today, though. Completely honest motives right now, I promise.”

His dark brown eyes warily followed the small sparks that leapt from the Altmer’s hands, half preparing himself for an attack again. It was always better to be safe than sorry, after all. For all he knew, those sparks could escalate into lethal fireballs – you really never could tell how quickly a conversation could casually curveball into a fight to the death. They seemed more than a reminder and a soft warning more than anything else, so Daeron remained unarmed for now. He couldn’t help but laugh at the High Elf’s next words, though. Apologising for not having anything of value? Well, that was a new one.

“Saying sorry because you don’t have anything I could rob? That’s definitely a first! But, don’t worry; I’m not trying to steal from you. I appreciate your politeness, though.” Grinning again, Dae extended one of his hands, hoping the Altmer would accept the handshake as a sort of mutual peace treaty.

“Name’s Daeron.” He paused, briefly wondering if giving a fake name would have been a better idea, but decided not to bother. If the other elf knew anything about him, they were alone right now, and he was fairly sure he could find a way to keep the Altmer’s mouth shut. (Then again, Dae was a very confident individual despite his weakness in face to face combat, and the taller mer would probably be able to beat him into the dirt in an honest fight.) “I’m travelling to Windhelm. What about you?”