Snippet #2149376

The Redguard woman wore a bright smile, the white of her even teeth a marked contrast to the dark red of her lips and the burnished ebony of her complexion. The sun was warm on her face, the thuds of the hooves beneath her were solid and steady, and the air smelled fresh and crisp. It was not the desert to which she was so accustomed, but it was lovely in its own way.

Aaliyah dropped the horse’s reins, stretching her arms up and above her, holding on with her legs alone. Whilst the horses of her people were most often built sleeker and swifter than these Skyrim shires, the basic principles of riding were the same, and she felt not unsteadiness or vertigo from such a simple action. Tossing her hair back with a swift motion of her head, she breathed deeply, letting the chill morning air fill her lungs, and laughed into the empty space with no thought for anyone who might hear or see. Life was good; why shouldn’t she celebrate that?

Leaning back down a touch, she felt for her horse, fingers brushing the base of its neck. Walking her hands upwards a bit, she wrapped her arms around and squeezed, not tightly but firmly, earning her what she chose to interpret as a snort of indulgence and a flick of his head. The metal pieces of the bridle jangled together with the leather, and she sat back up, finding the reins again by touch and holding them loosely in one hand.

The man who’d sold her the creature had promised her that it would be able to take her to Helgen, and she stopped and asked for directions just about every time she encountered another traveler on the road. When she’d first set to wandering like this, it had been more than a little awkward, and sometimes, people were downright rude about things like that. Since then, she’d gotten used to speaking to all kinds, from haughty Altmer to tricky Kahjit, and she often assuaged the less-frequent discomfort by treating the whole thing as a game: what will get the stodgy old Nord to talk? or something of that nature. She “won” her game more often than not, nowadays, and had learned a number of things about people in the process.

In this way, Liya proceeded to Helgen, wrapping her cloak and scarf about her when the weather grew chill in the mountains. Few people realized this, but deserts weren’t always hot, either. The Alik’r tended to drop far below what was comfortable when the sun went down, and though there was never any snow, it prepared her, at least a bit, for this sort of experience.

She stopped a few hours into the morning for a quick respite, having caught the sound of running water. Leading her horse (she was calling him Kareem) to the river, she gave him the opportunity to drink, and also took the chance to wash the accumulated trail-dust from her face and arms. It was far too chill to bathe entirely, and she hoped that these Watchers bothered with the luxury of hygiene, though she wasn’t sure she could count on it. From what she’d smelled, Nords weren’t exactly the most soap-loving people she’d ever met, which she found more funny than repulsive. Maybe they just wanted to emulate bears in every possible way: size, vocalization, and scent.

She chuckled to herself again, and then sighed. It really would be nice to be around people again, though. For almost six months, she’d been on the road, only stopping in towns or holds every now and then. Surely, these brief interludes in civilization were enough for a good conversation or two, a bard’s tale, a shopkeeper’s woe or the vicariously-gleaned happiness of a newly-engaged maid, but she lacked now what she had not known the value of when she acquired: friends, and something akin to a family.

If Matthias has taught her anything, it was that, and she was certain he wouldn’t mind a divergence from her world-trekking journey for the experience of having close friends once again. Not that this was her only motive, of course. Once, it would have been an easy thing to pass right through these mountains and let Skyrim’s problems remain here. Hammerfell had defeated the Dominion in the past and they could do so again if necessary, so why was she to be concerned?

Well, the answer was simple for all its novelty: perhaps she, as a person who treasured her happiness and recognized the value of her freedom, owed it to the rest of the world to give them a fighting chance to know life as she did. Which was what had led her here. The irony of her joining an organization called the “Watchers” was certainly not lost upon her, but Aaliyah was willing to let idioms be idioms and give it her best anyway.

At length, she caught the sound of voices, several in fact, and about the same time as the Argonian (the hissing accent gave it away) jumped out of the tree with a rustle and a thud, she approached the gathered souls in a much more conventional fashion, sliding from her horse and patting his withers, directing her eyes in the general direction of most of the others. “Well, seems like recruiting has been quite successful for the Watchers, no? Or are the Thalmor just incredibly unpopular?” She offered a light grin, evidence of her knowledge of the understatement employed there.

Of course, it seemed by this point that everyone was moving, and she suspected that all or part of what she said was lost in the confrontation between the Argonain and someone large- orc, possibly? Either way, it seemed that they were going to be funneled in eventually, so she trailed after the sound of others’ footsteps. Her detection spells were active, but those didn’t work for stone walls, so she undid the clasp securing her staff to her back and held it firmly in tone hand, passing it back and forth in front of her so as not to inadvertently stumble into anything.

She made it into the courtyard just fine, but the Guildmaster’s office would be another matter entirely. “’Scuse me for saying so,” she called, her tone polite but by no means meek, “But I doubt you want my horse in your office, ma’am. What should I do with him?”