Like I've said: Quid pro quo. So, no, Farion hasn't exactly cured me of my vampirism, far from it, but I respect a deal when made. And the agreement was that Lisin would help me deal with my vampirism, and I have to admit it sounds pretty straightforward. I just have to find a black soul gem.
But since we're within walking distance of the tomb--well, all of Skyrim's within walking distance, I guess--Lisin suggests I go ahead and get that horn the Graybeards were talking about.
It's a perfect night with perfect weather. All in all, I'm actually feeling pretty chipper, considering the sun's just set and I might be able to get to an inn to sleep off the day whenever it arrives.
So I'm fairly businesslike getting into the tomb, clearing away the various necromancers and draugr in my way. It's easy work, but it's nice to be back in the rhythm of things after all those months lounging around in Riften.
Lisin keeps pace, but she's smart enough to stay out of my way when it comes to a fight. I didn't spend six months becoming the deadliest person in Skyrim by making accommodations for friendly fire, so I can't be held responsible for a stray blade or arrow.
But she's not just a nuisance. No, it really is nice to have someone to share the view with.
At the bottom of the cave I find another word of power--which I can't pronounce--and a secret room behind a waterfall. There's also a draugr there. Figuring he must've slept in, what with the waterfall keeping him from hearing the commotion outside, I wake him up.
I lose track of Lisin at some point and suppose she must be exploring the cave on her own, so I keep on my way through the crypt. There's a pretty obvious passage just off the south side, so I--
Hmm.
Fortunately, I remember what the Graybeards taught me--screaming in a foreign language makes you run faster, and it does the trick.
The draugr at this point have all gone the way of...well, the draugr, so I dispatch the one spider standing in my way and reach the end of the crypt.
Dragon statues designed by people who've obviously never seen a dragon emerge from the water to acknowledge my passing. Yes, yes, I'm important, I get it. Now to find that horn...
To my surprise, there's no horn on the pedestal. Instead, there's a note telling me that I'll only get the horn if I patronize the Sleeping Giant Inn in Riverwood. Seriously? Extortion? In a draugr crypt? I've heard of the criminal underworld--heck, I own it--but this is ridiculous.
Feeling appropriately rustled, I climb out of the crypt and head to Solitude to grab a carriage.
But as I'm nearing the lovely back entrance I discovered a few months ago, a familiar feeling rushes over me. No, it's not the sense that Lisin is finally catching up after being absent for an hour, but it's that dread notion that my vampirism has progressed again, progressed to the point where people will attack me on sight. Look, I've got freaky vertical pupils now and giant fangs, and people don't seem to mind. What's different? Do I smell bad?
So it looks like this is going to be another one of those nights. Hiding in the base of one of Solitude's towers, I take Lisin aside. "Listen," I say, hiding my grin, fangs excepted. "You're not cut out for this."
She frowns at me while I explain what I'm going to have to do, and how she's not the master of darkness and subterfuge that I am. Basically, she's going to get me killed.
But she's the understanding sort, so she nonchalantly strides out of the tower like nothing's amiss and heads for the gate, while I take a quieter approach.
That's right, girl...act natural.
Lisin disappears, presumably to take a carriage back to Riften--or to Ivarstead, who knows? Maybe she really likes that place--while I'm picking the lock on someone's house. I make my way inside and my throat catches--these crazy northerners aren't even asleep yet! It's almost one in the morning!
But a woman this old's got to have a husband, so I go upstairs.
Jackpot.
I suppose it'd only be fair to do it to the wife as well so they can grow older-er--ahem--together, but she isn't coming to bed. Domestic disputes, I guess. Well, I'm not a marriage counselor, so I slip out the door and back into the night.
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