Splitting of Moonshadow, Chapter 3

• Posted by SophieTheFeared February 27, 2017 - Filed in TSC: Skyrim - 520 views

  Week 3, I guess that's pretty decent. Let's see how this one goes.

   

  Chapter 3

  (Getting moving now?)

   

  Pethara was shaken and dizzy. Scurrying through the halls and tunnels of the guild, she made a point not to disrupt anything else, as to not attract the attention of any more gods. Reaching the back exit, she stepped outside. It was surprisingly bright for a day in Morrowing, and the cool white light hurt her eyes. It occured to her no that she had no where to go. She had been aware of her lack of a place to stay, but had pushed it aside while planning her escape, like a closed box full of snakes that she would deal with later. Being careful not to loiter anywhere for too long, she began wandering through Blacklight, half hoping that she would get lost.

   

  I could go anywhere, but it feels like the opposite. Blacklight's walls and cornerclubs are just a bigger guild hall, keeping me inside. If I look, I'm sure I could find something exciting, but seeking out just isn't right. I feel like it should come to me, but not like Azura did. Not a god playing with my fate, but a instance of fate itself. If Azura is the Daedric Prince of fate and transition, maybe I should have seen what she could do for me.

   

  She was realising now, as she moved through streets and alleys without a thought to where she was going, that perhaps Azura was her fate; perhaps what was special about her was her destiny to serve the Lady of Twilight. This epiphany kept trying to form in the back of her mind, but it was always smothered by her pride before it could fully form. She was in a part of the city she had never seen before, but as a result of her childhood cooped up in a guild hall, that wasn't saying much.

   

  The people moving about seemed to move quicker, and with more purpose. Not like the old scholars she knew, always ambling about, but more like strangers, having an important debate in a language she didn't speak. They were oddly graceful, like dancers moving together, but the seemed pointedly unaware of any connection they may hold. They acted like adversaries, but moved with elegance that seemed like it could only have been planned by allies. She ducked under a colored cloth awning and watched for a while.

   

  Perhaps this is normal. I've never been outside central Blacklight, and perhaps this is what I've been missing. My father, Reclamations bless him, is a product of his books, and so are is cohorts. Their studious, stumbling demeanor could have been what wasn't standard the whole time. But I'll need to investegate further, these strangers that have lived so close to me my entire life.

   

  Pethara crossed the narrow street in search of a cornerclub, and, as is the nature of cities like this, found one almost immediately. The room was packed, but most people resided at the back, gathered around a table and passing around a bowl of moon sugar. She headed up to the bar and ordered a sujamma, which she nursed warily as she examined the characters around her. A woman sat at the other side of the bar, she looked disinterested in her surroundings, but slightly unnerved. Two men, one an Imperial, were arguing with one another on the other side of the women, and the air was getting tenser. Pethara had never seen a barfight.

   

  I'm as much a warrior as I am a scholar, but I ought to try my hand. Will these men come to blows? And what are the rules? Perhaps I can just join in. Yes, and what's the worst that can happen? What I lack in strength, I make up for in stamina, and in willingness to flee. That has already been proven.

   

  The Imperial abruptly stood up, grabbing the Dunmer by the wrist. They were of about equal size, and both much bigger than Pethara. As the Dunmer threw the first punch, the Imperial countered with a deadly looking blow to the jaw. Pethara moved over and pretended to make conversation with the woman as the two ugly men rained blows down upon eachother. The Imperial looked ready to give up, and the Dunmer's strength appeared to be waning too. Pethara had only a dagger, but she was fairly sure weapons weren't used in bar brawls anyway. Rapidly choosing the man closest to her, she dove at him, wrapping her arms around his waist and digging her hands into his kidneys. 

   

  When am supposed to stop? He can shake and spin around all he likes, or bend over to try and throw me off, but I'm staying put.

   

  The Imperial was watching, clearly perplexed. He had kept his fists up, but he appeared unafraid of either fighter. Not knowing what else to do, Pethara slid off the Dunmer's back, and then hopped a few feet away. He wheeled around, and she moved as quickly as she could behind the Imperial, who seemed unsure about what he should do. He stepped aside, tripping his winded opponent up, and Pethara used this opportunity to enact the only realy fighting technique she knew, kicking him right between the legs. He looked pained but didn't cry out, and instead crouched down. Pethara was about to go in for another blow, but the Imperial held her back.

   

  "You fight like a monster," he said, grinning, "you're lucky he hasn't called the guards. What buisiness did you have in that fight?"

   

  "None at all," she replied, "I simply wanted to see if I could do it, and I can."

   

  "You're a cheat. Punches only, didn't you know, fetcher?"

   

  I clearly helped the wrong man. I don't know the character of the Dunmer, but anybody would be better than this s'wit. What a snob. I don't know what game he's playing, insulting me with that disgusting smile, but I guess that just means I'll have to be careful to give him absolutley nothing. Look at him, ugly even though he hasn't been beaten. Does he know who I am?

   

  Internally, Perthara had no idea who she was, but that was uninportant. Puffing her chest out, she left the cornerclub with a scowl.

   

  This is a day late, guys, but thanks to anyone who gave it a read.

  -Sophie