Chapter Text
With a grunt, Eisa pulls her sword from the carcass of a frost spider, frowning at the mucus coming free alongside the blade, sticking to the metal. Gods, she hates these beasts. But then, is there anyone who doesn’t?
“Poor things, I wish there was another way.” She hears the soft voice of her charge close behind her. A glance reveals the young woman crouching net to one of the slain creatures, the regret coloring her voice easily visible in her expression as well, one hand reaching out as if to touch the remains.
Not foolish enough to actually touch them, thank Thalos, because their venom remains deadly long after their death and keeping this softhearted idiot alive is enough work as it is.
She really needs to stop getting herself into these kind of messes.
To be fair, the original plan had mostly been ‘get out of Frostmere Crypt alive’ and ‘lay low’. Which is why she stuck to Morthal in the first place – didn’t get much lower than that and Kyr’s gang wasn’t stupid enough to pursue her into a town crawling with guards.
So she stuck around Moorside Inn, made a deal with the inn keeper that she could have a room for half the coin if she made sure to get rid of the critters that occasionally found their way from the swamp into the cellar and tried to come up with a plan for her future that would not end on a headsman's block. Her best idea was to head for Bruma, hope that Cyrodiil would spare her more luck than her home country had.
“Do not blame the ground you walk on for the missteps you made;” Ra’jirr had once told her. She missed that foolish cat.
“Eisa? Are you alright?”
She blinks herself back to the present. Her companion has risen again, her wide, dark eyes now fixed on Eisa instead.
“I’m fine, my lady,” She replies. “We should keep moving.”
And they should, it’s quite a way still to Dragonbridge and Eisa would prefer they make it before nightfall. The road is dangerous enough during daytime, she has no wish to find out what additional horrors might arise with the sinking sun.
Idgrod nods and follows her lead, even though Eisa doubts she would mind a night spend by the roadside and under the stars. The young woman has been brimming with badly hidden excitement pretty much from the moment they crossed the town line, thrilled by each and every new discovery, no matter how minor.
Eisa can hardly blame her, Mortahl is not what anyone would call exiting, but still, she’d prefer not having to keep watch the whole night. And yet, she does not quicken her pace.
When the Jarl had first send a guard to fetch her she feared that there was a bounty out for her after all, or maybe one of the townsfolk took note of her occasional flirting with the Jarl’s daughter and seen fit to let the mother know. She still isn’t fully convinced it wasn’t the latter, something about the way Jarl Ravencrown had mused about meeting her husband during her own adventures, while she had pitched Eisa the offer of accompanying her daughter on a journey through the country.
To protect the young woman during her travel, for payment of course.
And Eisa agreed, because she was relieved not to be in trouble for once and because the pay was good and because lately she’d spend an embarrassing amount of her free time trailing after Igdrod anyway, so she might as well get something out of it.
Well, something other than the chance to bed the Jarl’s daughter and get gone before the consequences of such an act could catch up.
Not that that is still an option. Not the bedding, because a tussle in the snow is neither as romantic nor as comfortable as it sounds and it really doesn’t sound that comfortable to begin with, not the getting gone, because she has to get I dg rod back to Mort h al alive and also because every hour Eisa spends with her makes leaving sound less and less appealing.
This might just be the worst spot she’s ever gotten herself in. Ra’jirr would be so proud. Or smug.
Both, most likely. She represses a sigh.
“Have you been to Solitude before?” Idgrod asks, falling into step beside her now and Eisa shoots her another glance. Her cheeks are flushed, from the cold air or her overall delight, in a stark contrast to her otherwise pale complexion and Eisa quite likes the look on her.
“No, never,” She answers honestly. Not due to some conscious decision, but because live simply never swept her to this corner of Skyrim before. “But I’m surprised you haven’t either, it’s less than a days walk from your home.”
I dg rod shrugs, a little shyly, “It never came up, my mother doesn’t like to travel now that she’s older and it’s especially difficult for Joric, so …” She pauses for a moment. “On clear days you can see the windmill across the march, I always thought that would have to be enough.
Another pause, then. “But I’m glad I’ll get to see it now, not just Solitude, but all of Skyrim. And – and I’m glad you’re the one to accompany me.”
On the last words, Eisa could swear she sees her cheeks turn even darker. It’s still a lovely sight.
Gods help her, she’s really in it this time.