Islands on Another World (GW2)

[Quaxo9]

Nairn Tuckamore and Fira-Nar

Once the priest had been deemed safe to move, there had been a brief discussion amongst the Tamriel natives. Ulga knew the neighbouring town well and had offered to put the whole party up for the night at the local inn which had an upper floor perfect for their use. The vampires made their way back to their coven and the rest made their way to Leyawiin. Angus was bundled up against the night air, Drina seemed keen to do the same.

Nairn was admittedly uncomfortable going into the town proper, she was almost jealous of Angus and his hood. Towns had a way of making her feel so...exposed. The tundra was more welcoming. She shrugged into her jerkin as though it would help, her old habit of slouching making a bit of a return.

It wasn't until they passed through the noise of the tavern, up the first flight of stairs through a floor of rowdy occupants, then ... at the top of the stairs. It was a sight for sore eyes. A comforting light in a too-bright place. A large book case - and it was actually filled with books. If there were other people in front of her, Nairn didn't notice. She simply walked toward the books in long strides, swept a whole row into her arms, and just as swiftly departed to some corner.

Fira hadn't made it past the tavern. She made herself at home at one of the long tables, ordered herself a plate and took a tankard from one of the barkeep's servers. It had been a really weird day and she was going to do her best to forget most of it.

[Monkey Kitty]

When they passed through the gates of Leyawiin, Angus stopped abruptly. He stood, seeming almost bewildered, staring ahead blankly.

Drina stepped beside him and touched his arm. "You made it," she told him quietly. "You survived Coldharbour. You're home."

Angus closed his eyes, as if he didn't quite trust the evidence of sight. He drew in a deep breath through his nose, letting the smell of familiar air trigger memories. He seemed to wake from his dream. Angus turned to Drina and threw his arms around her, clinging tightly to the dremora. "Thank you," he whispered. "Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you..."

She held him close, gently rubbing his back. "Thank yourself, too," she said. "You never gave up. You never stopped fighting to get home. You were brave, and resolute. Give yourself the credit you deserve. Thank yourself for making it, not just me."

Tempest had hung back, giving them a moment, but once they'd had it, she said apologetically to Angus. "I'm sure you're very anxious to get home. But you could really use some more healing first. Would you consider staying with us, just for tonight?"

"Of course," Angus said - a little too hastily. Slightly chagrined, he added. "I... am not so anxious. I live at the church. I'm not sure I'm ready..."

He struggled to explain further - but Tempest didn't seem to expect any more.

She smiled reassuringly, and said, "I understand. Tonight will be at the inn, then."

Angus clearly wasn't ready for the dining room at the inn. He slipped up the stairs with a few of the others - including all of the Rutherfords, and of course Drina. Even the cloak that hid her horns wouldn't have been enough to ensure her safety in such a public place even if she had wanted to... which she didn't.

They ate a quiet supper upstairs. Then Ulga provided Cullen with a bag of coins to go purchase Angus some clean and better-fitting clothing to wear until he returned to his church. Despite the modest simplicity of the Orc woman's living situation back in Black Marsh - or perhaps because of it - she never seemed to be short of money when something was needed.

While Cullen was on this errand, Angus excused himself to take a bath. He was gone for a long time, which no one remarked on. It would take more than hot water to wash away the trauma he had experienced - but at least the water was a start.

Drina really had no more excuse to stay. She could no longer pretend that she was needed to ensure Angus was healed; even if for some reason Tempest abandoned him, he was in his home city now, and he would have his pick of alternatives. She should leave, before the Argonian came back and she was forced to fight her way out.

But it seemed wrong to leave without saying goodbye. After all they'd been through together, she couldn't just disappear. And what if he misinterpreted her departure and went looking for her, thinking something had happened to her?

No, she needed to talk to him one last time. They both needed the closure. When he returned, she would tell him goodnight... and also goodbye.

But the goodbye didn't go as she had planned. Angus returned with wet hair and night clothes, but he didn't seem inclined to go to bed. Drina could tell that he was exhausted... but he was forcing himself to stay awake.

"You should rest," she told him with gentle bluntness.

Angus suddenly looked embarrassed. "Uh. Later. I..."

She could see the fear in his eyes, and she understood. Angus hadn't been by himself at night since Coldharbour. When they had stopped to rest on the journey, she had huddled beside him, sharing the meager blanket. It had been for warmth, and for the practicality of protection. But belatedly, Drina realized it had been a psychological comfort to him too. It had made him feel safe.

"I'll stay with you tonight," she said.

Angus couldn't quite disguise his relief. "Thank you. I know I have to learn to sleep alone, but..."

"Well, you don't have to learn it tonight."

Once again, goodbye would have to wait. She refused to allow herself to consider why that was a relief.

***

Now it was Drina who was forcing herself to stay awake. She needed rest far less than mortals did, but the many days and nights that had passed since she'd gotten adequate respite were taking their toll. Angus was breathing softly beside her. The sound was peaceful; her eyelids started to droop. She caught herself with a start and sat up, so she wouldn't risk drifting off.

Drina heard soft footsteps and the rustle of clothing. It was Tempest, followed closely by Cara.

"I don't mean to interfere," Tempest whispered. "But you really need to rest too..."

Drina had to decline. "Thanks, but it's not safe. It's just a matter of time before your friend decides to send the trash back to Coldharbour, and I'd sooner be awake to face her."

Tempest shook her head. "We don't think you're trash. We aren't judging you for your origins, or your horns. I know what you did for Angus. And I can easily imagine what it cost you. You're among friends here."

The healer stood and moved to the door. She raised and dropped the latch, showing it was bolted.

Tempest then returned to Drina and said, "We won't let anyone hurt you. I promise. No one is going back to Coldharbour."

Cara partially unsheathed a dagger with each hand, showing a few inches of steel. "No one is going back to Coldharbour," she agreed, fierce but strangely businesslike.

Drina felt... oddly reassured. "Thank you," she said.

She lay back down next to Angus, and in moments, she was asleep.

[Monkey Kitty]

By the next morning, Angus seemed much more relaxed. It was easier for Drina to imagine what he had been like before Coldharbour, seeing him converse and smile, and even make the occasional jest. There was no erasing the past, of course, but Drina could see that her instinct had been right - this man had a future.

The dining room was almost empty in the morning, unlike the crowded chaos of the night before, so many of the group took breakfast there. Even Drina chanced join the others, with her hood firmly in place to hide her horns and shade her inhuman facial features.

"Oh, you asked about the destroyer knife last night," Angus remembered. "Unfortunately, I don't know much about it other than what I already told you. It was spoken of as a legend, or... a theory, I suppose. Not as something we were likely ever to encounter. It was described as a magical construct. It was to be placed in a vessel for safekeeping."

"What kind of a vessel?" Anakita asked curiously.

Angus shrugged. "I wasn't told that, as far as I recall. Perhaps another artifact, or..."

"Or a person?" Anakita suggested.

Angus looked surprised, but nodded slowly. "Yes, I... suppose so."

"Elabeth," the Ranger said quietly.

It was all coming together. This 'destroyer knife' fit what they had learned in the tower where Elabeth and Sellia had been trapped.

"But there's a way to bind it?" Ulga asked.

Angus nodded again. "Yes, I believe so. But I'm afraid I don't know the details of that. There's a library at my church. They would have books that--"

He was interrupted by two men suddenly walking into the dining room. They wore brown homespun robes and holy symbols on chains around their necks. Priests of Stendarr. Drina turned hastily to the wall, but the two men were ignoring her completely. Their entire focus was on someone else.

"So, the rumors are true," one of the newcomer priests said after a long silence. "Brother Angus has miraculously returned to us from Coldharbour."

For all the correctness of the words, the tone chilled Drina. It didn't sound like he considered Angus's survival a miracle at all - quite the opposite.

"Yes, Brother Andrew. I was... just about to go to the church..." Angus was clearly self-conscious, stumbling over his words.

"Ah, yes, I can see you were eager to be on your way," Brother Andrew replied, staring pointedly at the breakfast plate in front of Angus, and then running his eyes up and down his civilian clothes.

"I just got back to Leyawiin last night," Angus replied hurriedly. "I still needed to be healed further, so I couldn't--"

The other priest held up a hand to cut him off. "Spare us your excuses. You will present yourself at the church - alone - immediately, and you may explain yourself there for all to judge."

Brother Andrew was still staring at Angus, as though his eyes would bore straight through him. Angus shivered in spite of himself.

"You were gone so long," Brother Andrew said coldly. "We believed you were dead. I can only hope you have a good explanation for why you are not."

***

The church seemed to loom above them. It wasn't the largest house of worship in Leyawiin - that honor belonged to the Temple of Zenithar - but to Drina, the hulking stone seemed to overwhelm all who stood beneath it.

"Are you sure you want to go back?" Drina asked - not for the first time. She was worried.

But Angus nodded. Forcing confidence into his voice, he said, "Stendarr is the god of mercy. They will understand. They just... haven't heard the whole story yet. Once they do, everything will be fine. After that's settled, I'll have the resources to look for a way to shield you from being summoned back to Coldharbour."

Drina was dumbfounded. She had assumed their acquaintance was quickly coming to an end. But this sounded like Angus planned for her to be an ongoing feature in his life?

She had no time to interrogate that. Angus had to go.

"Be careful," Drina said. "We'll be waiting right outside. And whatever happens... just remember what I said. You deserve to face them with pride. You have nothing to apologize for. You deserve to hold your head high."

***

The circle of priests and clerics were all staring at Angus. He was wearing his robes again, but somehow he felt almost... naked. He felt exposed, humiliated - and that feeling held echoes of Coldharbour. It was all he could do not to turn and run.

"We did not expect to see you alive, Angus," Father Lucius said. The old man's voice was a little kinder, but Angus noticed he had not called him 'Brother.' Lucius went on, "In truth, I am disappointed to see you among the living. We believed you had been courageously martyred for Stendarr. Instead, it appears you betrayed our faith to save your wretched mortal life."

"Father Lucius, no, it was never my intention to betray..."

Brother Andrew cut in. "Really? Then you preserved the purity of your body?"

Angus looked down at the floor, his cheeks suddenly flaming red. He shook his head. He couldn't meet any of their eyes.

Brother Andrew pushed on. "And what of the words of your tongue? Did you honor the name of Stendarr in all you spoke?"

Angus stared at the floor.

"I did not hear your answer, Angus."

"No, Brother," Angus whispered.

"Then tell us, Angus - why exactly are you still alive? You should have died before you allowed them to pollute your body and contaminate your soul. You stand here before us because you are weak. Because you are cowardly. Because you refused to sacrifice yourself to honor Stendarr and allowed these daedric abominations to do what they wished with you. What are we to do with you, now that you have been inflicted on us again?"

"Now now, Brother Andrew," Father Lucius said with mild admonition. "Do not forget that Stendarr is the god of mercy. That he is named the Apologist of Men, who cares for all his human family and regards the saint and the heretic alike. If Angus is repentant in his heart and does his penance, Stendarr will forgive him. Even for unchastity, blasphemy, and weakness."

There was a long silence. Angus didn't break it.

Father Lucius went on, "But I have another concern." He picked a book up from the pulpit, and began to recite. "Thus Stendarr looked upon the world of mortals, and he found it afflicted by Abominations. And he made it known unto his priests, resolutes, and templars, that these unnatural profanities are abhorrent in his sight, and are to be exterminated by the Righteous without halt or mercy. For these Abominations are each and every the eternal enemies of the mortals of the Mundus..."

Angus felt as if a chill had entered the air.

Lucius closed the book and stared at him. "Those who witnessed you entering the city reported that your consorting with daedra was not limited to Coldharbour. They say you remain compromised."

"I am not... compromised..."

"The dremora?"

Angus froze. "She saved my life."

"Undoubtedly. She had every selfish reason to prevent your righteous martyrdom. Now you are indebted to her and under her control."

"It's not like that!"

"Then prove it. Prove your soul is intact. That you are not yet given over entirely to evil. We cannot allow a compromised priest to infect our holy order with his contamination. If you are truly one of us, you will do as Stendarr commands and destroy this abomination."

"No," Angus said softly.

"What did you say?"

"I said no! I will never harm her. She saved my life. She saved my belief in who I am. I'm not going to murder her in cold blood to save my own position in the church."

"Then so be it. Angus Crispian, I banish you from the Brotherhood of Stendarr. You are nothing and no one now."

Angus tried not to react as they tore the robe from his shoulders, leaving him shivering in only the thin garments beneath. As they ripped the holy symbol roughly from his neck, re-bruising recently healed skin. He tried to go away in his mind. Tried desperately to ignore the physical sensations that so reminded his body of Coldharbour.

He felt numb as he walked alone out of the church. It was only when he had passed through the huge front doors for the last time that tears filled his eyes and he broke into a run, trying to put as much distance between himself and his former home as possible.

***

Anakita was not religious in the slightest. Oh, she believed the Tyrian gods existed, certainly. But mere existence did not entitle them to worship. Still, even she could tell things had not gone well for Angus at the church.

Drina had hurried after him; Anakita was glad of that. But despite her sympathy for the priest, they still had other problems.

Most urgent among them was a possibly dying child - and they had just lost their primary source of information on how to save her.

"Uh, Nairn?" Anakita said casually. "Could you go in the church and... uh... do some research that we may not exactly have complete permission for?"

[Monkey Kitty]

It took Drina several blocks to catch up with Angus. Fortunately, the streets weren't crowded at this hour - no need to deal with curious bystanders. When she finally reached him, she put her hand on his arm. He startled at the touch, but then saw it was her and turn to face her. He looked devastated, and his eyes were red. Drina had known the moment that he ran that things had gone badly at the church, and now she could see how terribly they'd torn him apart.

"They hurt you," she said with soft anger. There were fresh red marks on his neck, which she touched lightly to heal... but the physical damage was not all she meant.

Angus was struggling to hold it together. "I'll be alright. You don't have to deal with this. You have already done more for me than I could ever have asked. I don't mean to continue to inflict myself on you."

That didn't sound like him - this word, 'inflict.' That sounded like... her stomach lurched. It sounded like something they'd said to him, that he was just repeating. How dare they? Had he not suffered enough already? Why were they so determined to leave fresh wounds on a man who so desperately needed to heal?

"Angus, look at me," she said, her eyes serious and fierce. "I'm still a dremora. We do not act out of pity. If I didn't want to be here, I would not be. You are not capable of inflicting your presence on me against my will. I'm here because I choose to be. Because you are worthy of concern and consideration. I'm sorry that those... people... made you think otherwise."

He seemed to consider this for a moment - and then to accept it. When she held out her arms to him, he received the gesture of comfort willingly.

"They said it was my fault," he told her softly.

Drina privately fantasized about desecrating a church and ripping apart some priests. She refrained from doing so only because she knew such an act would cause Angus more pain, instead of relieving it.

"They know nothing," she replied bluntly. "They were not there. It's easy to imagine yourself effortlessly sailing through the troubles others face, when you don't actually have to face it yourself. It wasn't your fault. None of it."

"They said I should be dead. That I should have given my life to honor Stendarr."

Once again, Drina was utterly stymied by mortal thinking. This fascination some of them had with martyrdom baffled her. When their quantity of existence was so short to start with, why were they so determined to hold it a virtue to throw it away?

"Then they are fools," she continued with equal candor. "You have only one life, so you should hold it dear. You are of no use to anyone if you are dead. Alive, there are a great many things you can accomplish. Your church has no apparent sense of strategy, if I may speak so boldly. They fail to understand your value, but there are others who will not make that mistake."

"Thank you, Drina. Truly. Without your kindness, I... I don't know how I could have gone on. But I just... don't know what happens now. They were my friends. My family. The church was my home. What do I do now? Where do I go?"

"You'll find new friends and family. You'll make a new home. You'll find a new purpose. There's no need to decide all of that today, though. These adventurers seem happy to help you. As am I. You have a place to stay for now. One thing at a time."

"Yes," he said thoughtfully. "You're right. This is going to sound crazy, but... I need to find a place to pray for awhile."

Drina glanced around. There was a small temple just across the way. The ways of the Divines were not her area of knowledge, but she knew enough to recognize them by sight, and the statue represented Mara. Fortunately, Mara seemed to be one of the calmer ones. Drina could probably even chance going inside - as long as she kept on her hood, but that was fairly universal in a human city.

"Here," she said, gesturing toward the door.

Angus found a quiet pew, and knelt in prayer, hands folded in supplication. Drina neither knelt nor prayed, but she did sit beside him in the pew, her hand on his shoulder in a gesture of silent support.

***

As Anakita and Nairn strategized, Ulga was doing some thinking too. Looking for books was all well and good... but she was curious about the stories Angus had heard, too. He had said they came from his fellows, not from a book in the library. They might need both to piece together a solution.

The problem was... well... all of them. Not many among them would be able to just waltz inside and get information. Surely an outsider from another world would be an immediate object of suspicion and would be told nothing. But those from Tamriel were not likely to fare much better. Just based on appearances, the reaction was likely to range from scorn to outright murder, depending on the member of the group who presented themselves.

Ulga thought back to the cave. To the ideals that had been on display there. Hmm. Perhaps there was one.

"Fira. Are you up for talking to some priests? We need to track down that story Angus told."

Given how they had last seen Angus, it was unlikely their own priest could be any help in getting the information they sought.

[Monkey Kitty]

Sellia and Gwindor

Sellia was a short distance from any of the others, using the shadow of a building for shade. The sun wasn't high yet, but its rays were already more direct than she preferred. She wasn't trying to be antisocial, exactly - she was just accustomed to being alone, and didn't mind it. Sellia was also used to avoiding drawing attention; that was a necessary skill for a vampire in a human city, where she wouldn't exactly be welcomed if her nature were known, to put it mildly.

She was surprised, then, when someone joined her. It was Gwindor. Gods, it was Gwindor, the handsome elf who made her feelings so... unruly.

"Not fond of the sunlight?" he asked conversationally, leaning casually against the wall beside her.

Sellia wasn't quite sure if he was making fun of her. "No, I'm not," she replied cautiously.

"Nor am I." His tone remained pleasant, with no hint of mockery. "My home city was underground. That is not to say I never saw the sun - we did roam afield - but I never quite got used to brightness like here."

This surprised Sellia - both what he said, and that he was speaking of his home. He hadn't mentioned it before. "Why did you leave?" she asked curiously.

For just a moment, an expression of pain flickered across his face, then was gone. "I did not," he told her. "At least not in the way you mean. My city was destroyed. I was there until the end. There is nothing to return to."

"I'm so sorry," Sellia said - half sympathy and half apology. If she had known, she wouldn't have forced him to relive the memory.

He ducked his head in acknowledgment. "It was a long time ago."

For a moment, there was silence.

Then, because he seemed willing to talk about it, Sellia asked, "Do you miss it?"

Another long pause, so long she thought he wasn't going to answer.

Finally, he said, "That is a complicated question, Sellia. I miss how it was when I was young. By the end, things had... changed. No, that's not quite what I mean. I had changed."

"How so? If you don't mind."

"I don't mind. I haven't talked about it in a long time. I was taken captive. For seventeen years, I was a prisoner, used for slave labor in a mine. I escaped, eventually, and made my way home, but home did not feel the same anymore. I was too changed. Before, my people had looked up to me. After my return, people looked up to another."

"You had a rival?"

Gwindor smiled faintly, but his eyes looked all the sadder for it, somehow. "No. He was my friend. He did not mean to take everything from me... but I lost everything to him nonetheless."

"That's awful," Sellia said, her tone full of genuine concern.

Gwindor seemed to snap out of his reverie. "As I said, it was a long time ago. I can tell you more someday, if you wish - but not here. Not now. I came to speak to you of something else. I have seen your talents with plants and animals. I had thought to plant a garden one day, and I wondered if you might give me some advice about it?"

Sellia's eyes lit up. Gwindor had unknowingly hit on just the right subject. "Certainly! Are you thinking of something purely ornamental, or would you like to grow food?"

"Both, I think. And perhaps provide nourishment to the woodland creatures as well..."

Before he had even finished speaking, Sellia had a piece of parchment and a pencil out of her bag and was starting to sketch. They stood companionably in the shade, heads bent close together over Sellia's paper as they dreamed of Gwindor's someday-garden.

[Quaxo9]

Fira-Nar and Nairn Tuckamore

The Argonian had clearly been caught off guard by Ulga's request, blinking at her and turning her head to the side as if that would make the words clearer.

"Me? I mean, of course I will ask after the tale, for the child's sake."

It wasn't that she didn't want to be of service. That she didn't want to help little Elabeth and avoid the destruction of worlds. It was that, well, she wasn't certain how the priests of Stendarr would receive a member of one of the so-called beast races. Particularly one frequently in service to Azura. Truthfully, she had considered serving the Divine before she'd met the Daedric Prince. The former because his teachings seemed so clear - she too had seen the suffering inflicted on good people by daedra, vampires and werewolves - though the longer she spent chasing good deeds, the more she found that good and bad were rarely separated by clean lines. Azura had impressed her by her direct contact and her compassion for those that didn't even follow her, but worked for the good of all Tamriel. It was Azura who had taught her that not all Daedric Princes were alike - and therefore not all dremora.

So why her drive to exterminate the dremora in the cave? That could only be answered by recent experience. She'd been putting down a lot of dremora as of late. Molag Bal's miscreants had been plaguing town after town and she'd been aiding those towns for so long, she'd almost forgotten that good dremora existed. But how to tell? Fira couldn't even be certain that they had free will. All she knew was that ones in service to good Daedra rarely tried to kill her and she based most of her judgments on that. She almost didn't want to acknowledge that things could be more complicated than that. That the dremora caring for the priest was a resident of Coldharbour, yet stood by a priest of Stendarr...it made no sense.

Climbing the stone steps, Fira paused reverently at the doorway before heaving on the brass door-ring and stepping inside into the cool air of the church's lobby. Several monks in long robes walked in pairs through the corridors, their voices in hushed whispers. She could well imagine the topic of discussion, considering Angus' swift departure moments before. Fira stood, hands folded in front of her, and waited to be recognized.

~~~~~~~~~

Nairn had managed to go to breakfast that morning and listen in on the conversation, despite having two more books tucked under her arm and one out in front of her. Angus' mention of a library immediately caught her attention. As events happened around her, Nairn paid no further attention to anything but the last three books - intending to visit said library at earliest convenience.

It hadn't been difficult to find the others, clustered around the large stone building as they were, and had every intention of simply walking up the front steps to find said library before Anakita spoke up. Of course. When people said 'library' they often didn't mean 'public', which was an affront to everything she believed in. Of course, she didn't let any random passersby into her own library, but she maintained that was completely different.

Nodding to Anakita, she continued walking past the church into a residential area where she found a series of back lanes. There, she cloaked herself and made her way back to the chapel, walking around the outside, looking for a way in. There was a side door up a flight of wooden steps and Nairn began sidling up them when two priests suddenly plowed through the door. Nairn barely managed to avoid them, hanging on the banister with her toes on the edges of the steps and her body out in mid-air. Still, their presence afforded a great opportunity, which Nairn made use of. She was back on the steps and through the door before it swung shut behind her.

The sudden dark took some adjusting to, affording her some time to try to figure out where this library was. She lifted her nose to the air and drew a deep breath. The scent of paper was distinctive, though many would not notice it, Nairn had made a point of learning to discern its scent. Fortunately, the trove of books she'd found - and read - the night before had given her a lot of information about the local churches and lore. It gave her a series of search parameters which she moved to employ with extreme prejudice. She'd learned the hard way that if she didn't force herself into search mode, it was too easy to forget that she wasn't welcome in the space. This was a matter of getting in - getting the right information - and getting out.

If she was successful, she would have a much higher probability of coming back.

[Monkey Kitty]

Angus prayed in the church for awhile, then stood and indicated to Drina that he was ready to go.

"Do you feel better?" she asked.

Angus nodded. "Yes, I... think I do, actually."

"You know, Mara might need a priest," Drina suggested. "You could get a job here instead."

Angus looked at her for a moment, trying to figure out if she was speaking in jest, but he saw no indication that it was anything other than a serious suggestion.

"Hm," he said, considering. "That would be... something to think about."

As they left the church and strolled down the street to head back to the inn, companionably arm in arm, Angus noticed a market stall selling flowers. He really ought to get some, he thought, as thank you gifts. He could give some to Tempest, and... for Drina, but that seemed inadequate. How could a bunch of posies repay days of care and support? Well, it was only a token, anyway, and a token was better than nothing. He stopped and bought a couple of bunches, and presented one to Drina.

"As thanks," he told her. "It's so little, after all you've done for me, but..."

Drina regarded the flowers uncertainly, and took a tentative sniff. "Thank you. That's very kind. But... uh... do I eat these? Or...?"

Belatedly, Angus realized that despite her polite acceptance, she had no clue what the purpose of the gift was. Apparently people in Coldharbour didn't give flowers. He smiled.

"Apologies. I should have been more clear. They're a customary gift for humans, but they have no function other than to look nice. They're a decoration."

Now that she had been given some direction, Drina seemed much more pleased with the flowers. She admired them, and smelled them, and her grin suggested the token - small as it was - had gone over well.

He gave the other bouquet to Tempest, with his thanks for the healing she had provided. For her, no explanation was required - she had been given flowers before by grateful recipients of her magical assistance.

"Thank you," Tempest said. "That is so kind. I was happy to help."

Thoughts of what had happened back at the church flashed unbidden through Angus's mind, and he shivered involuntarily. "There is one other thing I wanted to ask. I appreciate how discreet you've been about all of this. Thank you. I hope that you might continue to be so regarding my state when we met..."

"Of course," Tempest said. "You don't even have to ask. Your medical information is private between us. It isn't a healer's place to gossip. But... Angus, I do hope you understand that nothing that happened to you is your fault, don't you?"

"I... am trying to," Angus replied honestly. "Thank you. You're the best healer I could have asked for."

Tempest smiled. "I hope that you also consider me a friend?"

Angus smiled back. "Yes, I do."

For all he had lost, he was realizing just how much he had also gained.

[Monkey Kitty]

The Church of Stendarr

The church was in a quiet state of uproar. It wasn't every day that a priest of the Order was dramatically banished - and especially under such titillating circumstances.

Theories and speculations were on everyone's lips. Not directly to Fira - she got only a few curious glances - but she would hear snippets of conversation about the tainted priest who had engaged in carnal relationships with daedra and blasphemed the holy name of Stendarr as he swore allegiance to Molag Bal.

Their disgraced member was the primary object of discussion, but there were a few whispered suggestions about hunting down and slaughtering the dremora who had followed him back from Coldharbour and was holding him in her thrall. No one seemed afraid, though. Quite the contrary; this was the best entertainment some of them had had in years.

Eventually, Fira was noticed, and a monk made his way over. "Welcome to the Church of Stendarr, God of Righteous Might and Merciful Forbearance. How may we be of service, Miss?"

The phrase 'destroyer knife' didn't seem to ring a bell, but after a brief conference with one of his fellows, the monk said, "I believe Father Lucius can be of assistance to you. I am told that in the past, he was part of an expedition that bound the destroyer knife and saved Tamriel. I will see if he is available to speak to you. Please wait here for a moment."

The 'moment' would last long enough that Fira might wonder if the monk was coming back, but at last he did return. "The Father is in his office and is ready to receive you. Please follow me."

As the door opened, a conversation in progress could be heard.

"...Doesn't matter what happens to him now. He made his own bed when he lay down with daedra..."

A chuckle, and then, "Are these intentional puns, Brother Andrew? You're quite full of witticisms today."

"Forgive my levity, Father. My point is, the dremora should be our primary concern..."

The monk escorting Fira cleared his throat.

Father Lucius stopped talking abruptly, and regarded Fira benevolently from his seat at his desk. "Please, my child, come in and take a seat. Brother Andrew was just leaving. Brother Herdren, thank you for your assistance. You may go."

When the two monks had departed, Father Lucius said with cheerful candor, "I understand you have come seeking information about the destroyer knife? That is an old story, and it has been many years since a visitor expressed an interest. I am happy to satisfy your curiosity if I can. What do you wish to know?"

***

The library was unguarded, in the sense that there was no one specifically assigned to secure it. There didn't seem to be any concern of unwanted visitors - particularly given how far a person would have to proceed through the church to access the sanctum where the books were kept.

That didn't mean, however, that Nairn's job would be easy. She would face two main challenges.

First, although the books were carefully organized, there was no indication of what system was being used to catalogue them or where information on a particular subject could be found. It was assumed that anyone who needed to use the library resources already knew.

And secondly, although not secured per se, the library was far from unoccupied. Priests and monks bustled back and forth from shelf to shelf, or sat at long tables reading. Nairn would have to be careful to avoid bumping into someone - possibly literally - and alerting them to her presence.

[Monkey Kitty]

Drina

It seemed that for a time, the others would just be waiting for Fira and Nairn, so it was decided that some of the group would return to the inn. A few of their number would stay just in case things became difficult, but the possibility of an outright brawl erupting in a church seemed low - especially if there weren't so many people loitering outside that they gave the impression the church was surrounded.

It went without saying that Angus would not be staying at the church. No need to rub salt into the wound. He took one last glance at the building, then steeled himself and turned his back. Drina was also not inclined to linger; a dremora lurking outside a temple of Stendarr was not a safe proposition.

The Rutherfords and Ulga also returned to the inn. Drina noticed that Cullen was going out of his way to be friendly to Angus. Although Cullen didn't know exactly what Angus had been through - Tempest would not have revealed information about a patient even to her husband, and Cullen would never have asked her - it was clear that the priest's ordeal had been painful and traumatic. Pain and trauma were things both Tempest and Cullen could relate to. It was also clear to Cullen what the reception at the Church of Stendarr had been, and he frowned and shook his head... but he didn't look surprised.

As they walked back to the inn, Cullen briefly clasped Angus's shoulder in solidarity, and said, "My sympathies, friend."

"Thank you," Angus replied with a sadness-tinged smile.

Back at the inn, everyone seemed inclined to try to cheer up instead of dwelling on how the morning had gone. Ulga and Angus attempted to teach Cullen to play a complicated Tamrielic board game, with much good-natured laughter all around. Meanwhile, Drina sipped tea and chatted companionably with Tempest and the Rutherford daughters.

It suddenly struck Drina that she was... happy. The happiest she had ever been in her life.

That realization was bittersweet, because she knew it couldn't last. She couldn't linger forever in Angus's shadow. It was impossible to pretend that he still needed her. Physically, he was healed. Emotionally... that would take time, but he had the support of his mortal friends now. Surely that was what he wanted - to have his mortal life intact again, not anchored to grief by the presence of a dremora.

Ultimately, the Argonian - Fira, the others had called her - was right. Drina didn't belong here. She was an intruder. Forever an outsider. She couldn't stay, and this... happiness... had clouded her judgment. She didn't know exactly where she would go. Somewhere remote, where she could be alone. Involvement in mortal life could only end painfully for her.

It was time.

But as she was about to announce her intentions, her face must have clouded, because Tempest touched her hand and whispered, "Are you alright?"

Without thinking, she looked over at Angus. He couldn't have heard Tempest, but he must have been looking over anyway, because he met her eyes and smiled.

Her resolve cracked. That damn smile. He still didn't feel safe at night, and he needed his sleep. She couldn't leave just yet. But she had to start preparing.

She had to go. There was no choice. This life wasn't hers and never would be. Just... a little longer.

[Quaxo9]

Nairn Tuckamore

So many books. It would take years to go through every tome. Around her, heads bent in study and students young and old alike browsed the stacks. For the first time in a very long time, she felt like she was home.

The last destroyer knife event had happened not so very long ago - she could ignore the oldest looking scrolls for now. If she could figure out the organization, she'd be able to focus hopefully on one or two sets of shelves. Nairn began moving through the stacks, picking books at random, flipping through them to get an idea of their contents, then moving on to the next. Once she found one that seemed to have some of the history she was interested in, she stopped and pulled a few more books from that shelf as a secondary level check.

Finally, she seemed to have found the right section. Tamriel history with a Church of Stendarr bend. In it, a reference to the earlier occurrence of the destroyer knife - and an allusion to the the methods of binding. Unfortunately, that tome didn't house the actual information, but at least she had a name for the person who devised the method and about how long ago they had been written down. The old scrolls, after all.

The scrolls rested in individual cubbyholes at the heart of the library and Nairn took great care in removing them, pleased to find protective containers around the parchments. A library with archival knowledge was less prevalent than one might expect. Of course, it was much more difficult to check the contents of a scroll versus that of a book, which was both frustrating and terribly distracting. She'd skimmed several scrolls, becoming slowly more thorough with each new discovery. She was most of the way through the ninth scroll before she realized it was the one she wanted. Nairn went partway back through the scroll and began re-reading the section of interest when suddenly she became aware of an entity approaching her.

It was far too late for her to move out of the way. A young priest ran headlong into her satchel, his armload of papers spilling into the aisle even as he caught himself around her waist like she was a tree and he a midnight drunk. Surprised on a number of levels, Nairn let her cloaking spell fall, revealing to all a 9 foot tall barbarian woman holding a scroll in the middle of the library. There was a collective gasp. Two older priests immediately came toward her from either side, confusion replaced by stern admonishment.

"Halt, thief! Unhand the holy scroll!"

As one man reached his hand toward the paper, Nairn did the only thing she could do - she raised her arms in the air, carrying the scroll out of reach, and continued reading. The younger priest finally lost his footing and slid down, arms still wrapped around her, but unfortunately got his elbows stuck on her sheathed daggers. His hands ended up in a most untoward location, as did his face.

Nairn shuddered, turning a ghostly shade of pale. Releasing the scroll's edge, she reached down with her right hand to seize of the of the man's wrists and pull it up and away. Her breaths were coming so quick and shallow, she realized. It was as though she couldn't control her body - like her mind was stuck in another place up above her, watching. Watching as bodies pressed up around her, some apparently trying to help the young man out of his position, others attempting to get her to release him - and one priest who dared reach for the scroll.

His breath was hot on her neck as he reached, his toes tucked into the scroll shelves as he attempted to retrieve the stolen property. It was just...too much. Too many. They needed to stand away. She could hear words coming out of her mouth, but now she couldn't tell what they were. The breath on her neck. Too close. Nairn bared her teeth and sank them into the man's shoulder.