Cycle of the Serpent

They decided that they'd meet Camilla in the morning. Helgen still rode the sore aches of their bodies, and they hadn't even purchased their supplies yet when they talked it over with the other shopkeeper. Camilla seemed satisfied with the arrangement, waving the elves goodbye as they paid for their supplies and quickly returned to whatever work she'd been absorbed in before the three had arrived.

The Mer budged open the door of the Sleeping Giant Inn, a high-pitched squeak loudly announcing their arrivals. Orgnar mumbled something to himself about oiling the door hinges, before leaving his perch behind the counter to check on the stew bubbling pleasantly in the cauldron. They all made their way to the room they were renting for the night, Emeros having to twist the key a few times in the aged and seldom-used locks before it finally swung open.

"Bloody thing," he muttered to himself as he propped the door open for the other two with the toe of his boot. His companions passed him and set about to sort out their supplies. Athenath tugged their knapsack from the chest and rooted around inside, making room for the bundles of food and potions, the new waterskin, double-checking that it all nestled neatly together. Wyndrelis did the same, pocketing an empty soul gem to give the precise amount of room he needed for a couple of necessities. Emeros raised his brow at this, but whatever curiosity or comment that half-breached his mind wound up dead on his tongue. Enchantment, perhaps, was the mage's specialty.

They sat on the stone floors as they sorted their supplies, warmed by the noon sun, the high windows, and the heat of the hearth that swept under the door frame. After some discussion on what to do, they decided to purchase a meal in the inn. This would be the easiest option, as it meant they wouldn't be digging into their supplies before the march to Bleak Falls Barrow, however long that took.

Bleak Falls Barrow. The name rambled through the air as the three emerged from their room and paid for quick meals, taking a seat at one of the long tables lining the hearth. Well-cooked slices of meat, vegetables grilled over the fire, and sliced eidar cheese on warm bread was enough to soothe the end of the day, the world melting into hues of orange outside as the sun began its slow march down the mountainsides. The memory of Hadvar describing the old barrow still haunted the group's minds, the task of plunging into somewhere entirely unfamiliar for someone's stolen belonging didn't seem like the best of ideas, but they'd sworn to Lucan and Camilla that they would. After all, he did say that he'd pay them, and if they were going to be on the road for any length of time, gold was worth more than the trouble they'd go through.

The door to the inn swung open again, a chill breathing through the wide room before it shut with a few firm, audible shoves. Two men said some quick words to one another, then the new arrival took a seat and began to warm up on the lute, strumming with delicate hands and easy motions. Athenath snapped their gaze in the direction of the music, meal entirely forgotten on their plate as he listened to the other man play. He looked between the other Mer, grinning.

"You think he'll teach me some local songs?" They whispered, the glint in their eyes growing in the hearthlight.

Delphine emerged from the cellar the moment she heard the lute, trudging over to the young Nord. Emeros looked to him, eyeing the man - Sven, he thought he caught the name - as he spoke with Delphine, the sharp gestures of his hands, his shoulders, the sneer of his lip that lasted only a moment. He turned back to the table and shrugged.

"I suppose you could ask," he replied, his ears catching the small, snide comments the Nord made under his breath when Delphine was out of earshot, the lute sitting idle in his lap as he drank from a bottle he'd brought in with him, "but I would advise against it."

Athenath knit their brow, staring at the Bosmer as he sipped something warm from a tankard. It smelled spiced and sweet, and Athenath half-wished they'd gotten some himself. "Why?"

Wyndrelis, leaning in so only his companions could hear, looked between them with his usual, plain expression. "He sounds... well, he sounds unpleasant, like..." he muttered to himself, searching for the word he needed, pushing his glasses back up his nose as he fumbled for the right phrase.

"He sounds like a bit of a bell-end," Emeros snorted, glancing back to Sven as he tuned his lute. Wyndrelis snapped his fingers quietly, as though his observation sufficed for what descriptor he couldn't find himself.

The Altmer took a second, turning in time to catch Sven rolling his eyes as Orgnar told him something about the ale, another snide remark muttered under the Nord bard's breath. He deflated, groaning quietly as they returned to their meal. "Fine, alright, I guess I see your point."

"Chin up," Emeros smirked, "you'll have plenty of time to hone your craft without needing people like him to teach you."

Athenath knit their brow, looking up at him. Then, they looked to Wyndrelis, who'd chosen to sit at the end of the table. He'd pulled a chair over, refusing to put his back to the flames, and after today, no one thought to question it. This day had been hard enough, and affected each of them in it's own unique and vicious ways. If Wyndrelis wanted to never let the flames out of his sight, who were the other two to judge him?

The bed would need to be negotiated.

Emeros, once the door was shut and locked, piped up with the issue that none of them had wanted to address. "We need to discuss sleeping arrangements."

"Agreed, who takes the floor?" Wyndrelis questioned briskly. Both of the other Mer looked to him, confusion plain on their features. As he caught the looks, gaze flitting back and forth between them, the tips of his ears warmed. "So, I do, then."

"No...?" Athenath lowered a brow, arching the other high. "None of us take the floor. But we need to figure out who sleeps where, y'know."

"Besides," Emeros chimed, spine leaned against the wardrobe, "sleeping on the floor means less quality sleep. We agreed to meet Camilla in the morning, which means we need all of the rest we can get. And, of course, that's not factoring in breakfast, the journey to Bleak Falls Barrow, and inside the barrow itself. Gods know how long we'll be in there, so lets get as much rest as we can."

Wyndrelis shrunk back. "Hm, I suppose that makes sense."

"So, how do we decide this?" Athenath slid into one of the chairs at the small table, leaning his chin onto their palm.

"Draw straws, simple." Emeros grasped a fistful of straw from under the mattress, the bundle clutched tight. "Close your eyes. Shortest takes the wall, largest takes the edge."

Shrugging, Athenath closed his eyes. Wyndrelis followed suit, Emeros shutting his own as the three plucked a straw from the Bosmer's fist. "Everyone ready?" He asked. When he got no reply, the Bosmer said, "alright, open your eyes."

They laid the straws on the table. Emeros got the smallest. Wyndrelis the largest.

"Which means," Athenath stretched, sitting on the edge of the bed and digging through their pack, "I'm in the middle. We should get ready for bed if we're gonna get any rest." He retrieved an old comb and a small bottle of what appeared to be a diluted oil, dropping the smallest amounts onto the comb and brushing it through the ends of their hair, curls bouncing against the ivory teeth. Emeros shrugged and examined the map, taking his time to study it.

"Should any of us keep watch?" Emeros suggested. Athenath snorted, Wyndrelis quietly tittering at the question as well. "What? We don't know these people, this inn-"

"It's an inn, not the middle of the forest. What, you expect a scamp to appear out of nowhere and fireball us in our sleep?" They teased, Wyndrelis struggling harder to hide his own amusement.

"Do you truly trust this place?" He quirked his brow, looking up from the table.

"I've slept in worse. Relax, we'll be fine."

The bed was much softer than anticipated. Athenath pulled the blankets and furs up to their shoulders, bedshirt warm around them, it's long linen sleeves feeling more like security than they had expected.

This had been a horrific day.

Wyndrelis laid awake, staring at the ceiling, the group listening idly to the conversations that filtered in. Orgnar and Sven were bickering, but it sounded more friendly than not. The firelight danced beneath the door, creating shadows unfamiliar and long, and outside their windows, Secunda and Masser twisted in orbit, the sky still, and night alive.

Athenath looked to the Dunmer, then to the Bosmer, and even if they didn't want to admit it, he wasn't ready to leave their sides. He knew the group would split apart in Whiterun and go their separate ways, but he wished for more time with them. Maybe going through Helgen together had solidified something between the three, like amber around an insect, preserved in time. The inn smelled of ale and cooking food and too much of the dust that had managed to settle on some corners of it, but in this moment, with these two, it was comforting.

From the moment Hadvar had mentioned Bleak Falls Barrow, Athenath had wanted to explore it. They had never considered himself an adventurer, but maybe here in Skyrim, that could change. He could be the person he'd wanted to be for so long; fearless, brave, ready for anything. They thought back to that massive, black shadow of the ancient ruins. The arches snaked through the snow, piercing through the rocks and giving the whole place the feeling of impenetrability, of looming what-if, or moreso, what-was-and-is-not's. Living dead, the stone corpse of an age long passed.

Athenath intended to charge through into its depths, and find its heart.

Emeros should have taken the edge of the bed. Less chance to wake up pinned like a spider between another person and a wall.

He mentally cursed himself as he awoke, the Altmer's long hair sprawled across the pillow, prickling his face and smelling faintly of rosemary. In the cold morning light that slid into the room, he reminded himself how fortunate he was to still be alive after the events of Helgen, but this did little to stop the ache in his legs from the Altmer kicking him in his sleep. Fitful sleeper, he figured, and this was proven when the other rolled over, facing him, eyelids flickering with the slightest movements of deep sleep. Emeros laid there in silence, thinking about how he might have found the situation strange and somewhat amusing under any other circumstances. But for now, he was simply tired, and wanted to get up and prepare for the day ahead. Gods knew it would be a long one.

As for Wyndrelis, the Dunmer had rested his glasses on the table atop the map, and he'd chosen to sleep in his under tunic, a dark grey that complimented his pigeon blue complexion. If there was ever a being committed to a specific color scheme, it was him, dressed in greys and blues, accented with gold and silver. A wintry palette, muted as the snow that drew to mind his destination. Winterhold would have to wait, they had duties here in Riverwood, then to Whiterun, and if the group didn't set out soon, then the day would get away from them like a fleeing bird.

It occurred to him, as he took note of his companions and their closed eyes, that he was the first to wake. He sat up slowly, carefully, so as not to disturb them, rising first on his elbows, then his palms. He softened at the sight of them, deep in a well-needed sleep that all of them had deserved. Bruises from yesterday would ripen into dark splotches along all three of their bodies in the coming days, but in this moment, none of it mattered.

He was still alive. And all of them had made it.

Everyone had been exhausted, including himself. Helgen still bled fresh in his mind, but he did his best to shut the memories away for now. He could mull them over later. He could have his nightmares in the evenings like everyone else. For now, he gingerly peeled the blanket up off his form, meticulous as to not wake the other two Mer as he slid down to the edge of the bed, down atop the chest, then to his boots waiting on the floor beside it, woolen socks making contact with the stone floors. He shuddered at the cold, then stretched, and started his morning. He checked his belongings, meditated, and readied himself for the day ahead.

When Wyndrelis rose, he blinked his bleary eyes, allowing the world to tumble back into his mind's focus. He looked to Athenath, still fast asleep, then to the table, where Emeros sat, sipping a tankard of watered-down coffee. He turned back to Athenath, reaching a hand over and shaking their shoulder lightly. A few more shakes and the Altmer startled, springing upwards, their eyes frantically darting around the room until they landed on Wyndrelis, who shrunk back slightly at the sudden motions. He locked eyes with the Dunmer, then with the Bosmer, and exhaled a breath he hadn't realized had been choked in his throat. The morning light hit their skin, comforting as the blankets he pulled back around himself.

None of them commented on this. Wyndrelis crawled out of the bed mournfully, and Athenath followed with murmured protest about the bed being warm and soft, and the room being cold at this hour. All of them were wishing for nothing more than to curl up back under the linen and furs, but the day was starting, and they had much laying ahead. After all, they told Camilla they'd meet her outside the Riverwood Trader, and that's what they planned to do.

"Morning," Athenath yawned, raking fingers through their tangled hair. They reached for his knapsack, and finding it at the edge of the bed, retrieved their ivory comb and began to methodically untangle his curls.

"Good morning," Emeros replied, sipping again from the tankard. Coffee was a rare treat in some of the places he traveled, but it seemed that even this Civil War hadn't stopped the trade of it in Skyrim, whether through local merchants and their shipments, or Khajiit caravans.

Wyndrelis dragged on his tunic and cape, murmuring a quiet good morning and fastening his belt, the ornate, star-shaped buckle glinting in the light. At last, he seized his glasses, pushing them up the straight bridge of his nose. "I suppose we should eat, then find Camilla?"

"Precisely." Emeros confirmed with a small nod. He flitted a glance to the door, gesturing with a quick tilt of his head. "There's breakfast being served right now, alongside entertainment, if you wish to listen to Sven and his... Singing." If the Nord's ululations could be called that, Emeros thought. He had a fine voice for some of the songs, but the aspiring bard had a habit of reaching into ranges he should keep his hands well away from.

Athenath tugged their own day clothes on, buckling a dark brown belt. While there was nothing remarkable about his choice of dress, Emeros did note the Colovian style of clothing they wore, with a fawn-light tunic and a suede vest that he realized matched the material of their trousers. He set his comb away and laced his boots, stepping out after the promise of a warm breakfast.

Wyndrelis sat in the empty chair, and offered his comb to Emeros, who gladly took it. "Thank you, it seems I can't find mine." The Bosmer raked his fingers through his tangled, dark hair, taking the comb and gently picking at the sparse knots.

"It happens," Wyndrelis replied in his usual, perpetually tired voice. He always sounded on the verge of annoyance, but the Bosmer had learnt quickly that he simply sounded that way, and not to take it to heart. The Dunmer sounded unlike most Dunmer he'd met, his vocal cadence flat and quiet most of the time, but hadn't he said that he grew up in Cyrodiil? That must have made him younger than the Red Year, and he looked it, with a face still brushed with youth despite the high arch and definition of his cheekbones, the circles under his eyes and melancholic draw of his brow, the exhaustion that was more mental than physical now.

The mage folded his arms over his chest, trying to think of something to keep the conversation flowing between them, but words swimming away from him like tiny fish in a net woven for much larger catches. "So, you're an alchemist?"

"Yes, I've been practicing alchemy for many years." Emeros worked his fingers through his hair and finished picking out the tangles, combing through his straight, chin-length hair. He pointed to a jug he'd filled with water earlier, while the others had been sleeping, "if you wish to brush your teeth, there's water in here, and a basin under the table."

Wyndrelis seemed relieved, muttering something quickly that sounded almost like a thank you, and when Athenath returned with breakfast on a platter and two more coffee-filled tankards, the group brightened. Wyndrelis quickly folded the map and tucked it into his pocket, Athenath setting the platter in the center of the table, the tankards after, before dragging in another chair from the inn. The Altmer had done their best to find anything all three might like, with hot bread and a wedge of cheese pressed to one end, fried eggs to another, and another end containing meat that had only just been plucked from a hook over the hearth.

"So," Athenath started, sipping from the still-hot tankard and jerking back slightly when it was, unsurprisingly, still hot, "I guess once we get ready, we head out?"

"That'd be the best option, yes." Emeros pulled some of the items closer to himself. Plates would have been nice, but the platter was large enough that each of them could move food to their own corners.

Wyndrelis piped up, "if we time it right, we'll be out of the ruins within a day."

"Within a day?" Athenath furrowed their brow. Wyndrelis looked to them, almost as baffled by their reply as they were that the ruins would take so long.

"Have you ever been inside of the Ayleid ruins, back in Cyrodiil?" When Athenath shook his head, Wyndrelis nodded sagely, picking at the eggs he'd dragged over with a fork. "I have. They are much, much larger than they appear on the surface, and with how Bleak Falls Barrow appeared even from a distance..." He trailed off, but it seemed the Altmer got the message.

"That depends," Emeros sipped again from his tankard, cutting a slice of meat in half, "we're still not sure what's even inside. If there's traps, we'll need to navigate them. If there's bandits, as we should be anticipating, we'll have to be prepared for a fight. And, of course if there's, gods forbid, draugr in there as Hadvar mentioned to us, then we'll have to be fully prepared to fight for our lives."

Athenath swallowed. "Uh, what are draugr, anyways?"

"Undead Nords, some say they protect the tombs," Wyndrelis stated calmly, "I have only heard of them a few times in my research, but they're not to be taken lightly."

"So," Athenath inhaled, expression marred now with tinges of anxiety, "we gotta be ready for bandits, traps, and draugr?"

"Precisely." Emeros winked.

"I don't think I like this idea anymore."

"Well, you volunteered us," the Bosmer pointed out, sipping his coffee, "so we'll simply have to be prepared."

They tidied the room and gathered their belongings, finishing their morning routines and double-checking that they left nothing behind. They fastened the Imperial armor over their forms - better safe than sorry, even with Delphine's warning - and headed to the Riverwood Trader, Camilla already waiting on the porch.

"Great," she said as she laid eyes on the approaching travelers with a broad smile, "you know, it's... Good, actually. Strangers coming into town who actually want to help. It's a nice change of pace."

"Yes, I believe it would be," Emeros replied in a polite but curt manner, "shall we?"

"Oh, right. If you're going after the claw, you'll need to know the way." The Imperial marched onward, down the stone path and to a bridge, the elves trudging behind her as quickly as they could. Emeros could feel the other two's apprehension, and did his best to conceal his own, as well. It wasn't as though he wouldn't help people, but the idea of plunging into these ruins was eating away at him. Who knows what was in there, and what they would find? Gods knew it was dangerous enough already from being likely thousands of years old, but bandits made it worse, and if there truly were other things lurking in there...

Wyndrelis shared in this hesitance, but there was something else in those bright eyes, a sort of determination. Perhaps he thought he might find his book, the one he'd mentioned to Hadvar. Emeros shifted his gaze to Athenath, the Altmer keeping a grin on their face, having made several comments before they met with Camilla about the item being made entirely of solid gold.

Emeros made a mental note to remind Athenath that this was a retrieval, not something they would be keeping.

"Those thieves must be mad, hiding out there. Those old crypts are filled with nothing but traps, trolls, and who knows what else!"

"Do you have any idea why they may have stolen the claw alone?" Emeros inquired, raising a brow. Camilla shrugged.

"Not a clue. I mean, it's not like we don't have plenty of other things in the shop worth stealing."

The stones thudded under the boots of the men behind her, the three taking in the scenery as they walked closer to the path out of town, the bridge already in view. The light blue of the sky was beginning to gain its daylight hues, tinging deeper, the water mirroring with its clarity. It was the sort of clarity perfect for an afternoon swim, or to simply dig around looking for interesting plants. Emeros thought to himself that he may decide to try searching its shores for Nirnroot later, should they come back earlier than expected.

"This is the bridge out of town. The path up the mountain to the northwest leads to Bleak Falls Barrow." After a moment lingering at the bridge with her hand gesturing the direction of the road, she spoke again, "I guess I should get back to my brother. He'll throw a fit if I take too long. Such a child..." She rolled her eyes as she headed back in the direction of the shop. "Good luck. We'll be waiting for your return, you three."

The Mer watched her make the slow walk back down the road, the mill nearby having begun its operations an hour or more ago. The sun lit the way, the trees casting long, warm shadows along the earth, animals distantly rushing through the thick woods. Birds swept their wings over the water, some eager to catch small fish that leapt occasionally from the surface.

Then, turning in the direction of the path, they strode across the aged stone bridge, anticipation brewing with their curiosity. Whatever this golden claw was, however much value it held, none of them could argue that all they wanted now was a chance to see it up close. And, even more so, a chance to see just what Bleak Falls Barrow was truly hiding.