Interlude - Whiterun - 17th of Last Seed 4E 201 - Ralvas
Willow was taught like a bowstring ready to let loose a hail of arrows. It was clear by the way she would somehow stand up and walk back and forth, checking over the shoulders of Sharrum, or of Ocheeva. Both were the most uncomfortable of the siblings in the inn, and thus her sure walk had the undoubted effect of calming them.
The rest of the inn's patrons had learned to give her a wide berth, even the bard who was incessantly singing his songs had learned not to try his hand when he had woken up one morning with three of his fingers dislocated. He hadn't felt a thing, but Willow's alchemy skills weren't just for show. She could dull the pain, break a bone, and then eagerly wait the morning to hear the screams of pain of those who'd wake up with a newly busted kneecap, or an arrow stuck in their sides.
Usually it took the combined might of Umbra and Tsavi to hold her back, and since the first was missing, the latter was trying her best busying herself with a book. It was harder than it seemed, since she had the unnatural reflex of letting loose her claws whenever she was stressed, and the poor book had already been ripped in more than one spot.
Ralvas knew deep down that there was nothing to worry about. Dragnor was a braggart, a drunken brawling fool most of the time, but also the oldest brother, and he had spent years fighting in the Arena. If was still alive, then nothing short of a mountain avalanche would kill him, and he'd probably stand back up to kill the mountain in turn. Rae was the voice of reason, and with those two, Umbra had nothing to fear.
Unless Dragnor threw Umbra to do something definitely unsafe, because while he was most definitely the youngest, and had a good tongue in his mouth, it didn't mean he also wasn't impulsive just like some of his older brothers.
"I'm bored," Ralvas said as he calmly sipped his mug of mead. "I heard the court mage is looking for some adventurers to recover something from a tomb."
Willow's eyes snapped away from Ocheeva's scale-covered head ridges, much to the Argonian's relief, and settled on him, much to his dismay.
"How far?" Willow asked.
"One day and half by foot if we travel light," Ralvas said. "We'd be back before the others arrive."
"Hirume and Mansel aren't here yet," Willow said, "Someone has to wait for them."
"I'm going," Sharrum said, "Before I rust in my armor, I need to oil it in the blood of my enemies."
"Poignant," Ocheeva said with a short chuckle, "One of Umbra's verses?"
Sharrum nodded, "Does it make me look...knowledgeable?"
Tsavi closed her book and sighed, "I want to stretch my legs too," she mumbled.
"More like meddle with those vagabonds by the gates," Willow said with a click of her tongue against her teeth. "I'm not letting any of you out of my sight until Hirume and Mansel get here," she continued flatly. "Sharrum, Ralvas, come back in three days or I will ensure you spend five nights straight without dinner."
Ralvas nodded, "Of course big sister, of course."
Sharrum grumbled, but stood up with a nod, "We'll be back."
"Also, Ralvas, you're the older one. Anything happens to Sharrum, you're the one I will deem responsible," Willow said as a final parting word, and Ralvas in turn stiffly walked out, barely nodding at the words in turn.
"Sharrum," Ralvas said. "This won't be like that time in Bravil, will it?"
"I promise not to stick my hammer inside a daedra statue," Sharrum answered most seriously. "But it was Umbra's idea."
Ralvas said nothing.
Some things were best left forgotten, after all.
