I suppose as long as I'm a vampire I should go about finding ways to mitigate this problem. Also, I'm a complete failure at magic and that unkind gatekeeper at the college will never let me pass if I can't make her stupid "fear" spell. Am I not scary enough as I am?!
Farengar seems to think so, reacting with no small amount of alarm when I urgently wake him at two in the morning, asking him for advice on how to augment my magical ability. And, while I'm at it, the debilitating sickness that overtakes me in the sunlight.
His help doesn't come free--while he doesn't have any enchantments on hand for solving my vampire problem, he's happy to charge me through the nose for a ring that will amplify my pathetic magical ability. I don't fault him for that, though--it's what I'd do. It's what I do do.
Anyways, the ring works well. Enough.
On my way back to Winterhold, I stop by my property and finish putting together the frame for my house.
*sigh*
I'm also more aware of my limitations, now--apparently hard work accelerates the rate at which my--ahem--specially advantaged dehydration--advances through my body.
So, lest I become too repulsive to escape notice by the city guards, I stop by my neighbor's house down the road.
Now, while I can't say I'm bringing banana bread or sweetrolls like another good neighbor would, my true offerings aren't that much worse.
Okay, it's much worse. But hey--I don't kill her. And I don't take anything. Except her blood. But I don't take any of her stuff, even though I totally can. I'm not a monster.
Besides, if she realizes what I'm doing, she'll probably move and then I'll have to go break into Windhelm or worse, Riften. Again.
I head back to Whiterun again for some more supplies. I meet another old friend of mine on the road, though to be honest, I can't really place the face.
So maybe I don't know him. Probably better for him, because as we all know, the closer people are to me, the worse it goes for them.
Take this old crone at Whiterun, for example. She's lucky I didn't take up the Jarl's offer for me to move into the city. I'm not sure her poor body could take it.
Then again, I think I just made her immortal... I hope that doesn't come back to bite me.
It's mid-morning now, so I suppose I'll duck my head, take a carriage, and spare myself the agony of a daytime hike across the Pale.
The carriage man, blissfully unaware of his passenger's tragic state, drivels on and on about how "nice" the sunshine is for the entire ride, even after the sun's gone down. I want to break his neck, but there's already a shortage of drivers in Skyrim and I don't need to make it worse.
My mood perks up a bit though when Farengar's ring does its thing and the gatekeeper gives me the okay to come on in to the college. I'm about to hug her in joy when we're rudely interrupted.
The twin spectres of Anga's Mill and Dawnstar float before my eyes. I hope there's no one here that the Brotherhood wants dead, because dragons don't collect or pay on contracts.
And then I learn why Noses fear mages.
My feeling of catastrophic emasculation is appropriate, though, because after I pick over the dragon's bones and head into the college, I'm given another haughty dressing down by the headmistress, for just about everything: appearance, bearing, snowy skin. It's quite horrid.
I can't believe I paid 2000 septims to get into this place. At least housing is included.
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