During the time between Sibyl’s arrival in Solitude and what she knew would later be an inevitable departure, the twenty-four year old had once more tried to enjoy her time in the city and adapt to the lifestyle of living within the walls. There was no need for hunting and rationing, for a trip to the market would easily replace her salted meats or stale breads and fill her basket with colorful fruit and fresh fish. Neither was there a need to rush through the roads with inexplicable urgency, but rather go about her day at a pace she deemed appropriate.

Yet it was not safe to fully accustom herself to such comforts lest she lose her instincts of survival and her willingness to push on. The capital was alluring and wonderful, but Sibyl could not leave her skills to soften while she partook in lavish meals at the inn or strolled aimlessly through the guarded streets.

It was this conviction that kept Sibyl from being able to truly find delight in the lull between the storm. She appreciated it, certainly, but there was an alarmed gravity with which she went about her days, a fear that kept her glancing over her shoulder at every sound and anxiously twisting the ring that encircled the third finger on her left hand. When out in the wilderness of Skyrim, the courier surrounded herself in a flurry of purposeful activity — simply waiting for an assignment to follow was perhaps the hardest part of her job. The knowledge of her assured leave-taking kept her from loosening the taut lines of her body.

Sibyl tugged on the reins of her horse, pulling them to the left as Cobalt slowed from his canter. Earlier that morning, after a generous helping of buttered bread, eggs and chilled venison, the girl had once more found herself with no productive task ahead of her. Thus, realising her uncharacteristic neglect towards her stallion since arriving at the capital, she had made the decision to further practice her riding skills while spending time with the dark blue-gray horse.

By the time the sun had begun to dip below the horizon, Sibyl was pleasantly flushed from the physical exertion. She rode soundlessly back to the gates of Solitude, one hand grasped loosely around the leather reins while the other stroked her stallion’s neck affectionately. The stablehand met her with a smile, and Sibyl handed him three septims before finally retiring her horse for the evening.

Sometime later, she returned to her room at the Winking Skeever, changed out of her gear into a lilac tunic of homespun cotton, and went to the floor below for her dinner.

The blonde took a seat by the wall to the left of the entrance after ordering the components of her meal. Her braided hair sat loosely over her right shoulder, a few loose strands curling lawlessly against her cheeks. Her chin rested against the back of her wrist, her elbow propped up on the table despite what faint teachings of etiquette she could recall from her mother all those years ago. Blue-green eyes scanned the unfamiliar faces of the other patrons before falling back upon the surface of her table. Around her, the faint chatter of the early evening was comforting. Later in the night, she knew, there was a possibility for the inn to grow far rowdier and far more uninhibited. Sibyl was unlikely to linger around the lower floor during those hours, but the din could oftentimes still be heard from the confines of her chambers.

Before long, one of the workers arrived and placed down a tankard of ale before her. Sibyl uttered her thanks and reached for the cool drink, checking its contents before taking a tentative sip. Contrary to popular belief, alcohol was something she was more than willing to indulge in every now and again. The only form of it that she truly disliked was mead — for she found its cloying sweetness unsavoury — but that did not restrict her on the various others available. Unlike quite a number of the other patrons, however, Sibyl knew when it was time to say she’d had enough.

With the smallest hints of a smile playing against her lips, the girl wrapped both hands around the tankard and nudged it around her table. Dazedly, she traced the brim of the metal with her index finger, then let her eyes wander the room as she surveyed her surroundings once more. Her body was somewhat limp and tired from the hours of riding earlier in the day, but it was the first time she had felt such satisfaction in a while — a few aches here and there were a small price to pay.

She knew with an unwavering surety that within a few days, if not by tomorrow, she would have to leave Solitude and its warmth. Leave the comfort of a bed for the bone-chilling night air, leave the gleaming shine of concrete for the green of the wilderness. It was a prospect she both yearned and dreaded, and though she had managed to spend her day with her mind on other things, her anxiety began to return as she sat quietly at the corner of the room.

Dusk had settled in Solitude, the blue horizon darkening as the first twilight stars appeared. The market stalls were near empty as buyers and sellers went their separate ways home. The roads relatively quiet beside the hollow echo of boots on cobblestone and the scratching of gravel as it was crushed underfoot. With the setting the sun the temperature had fallen as well and it was getting too frigid even for a Nord like Esca. He never particularly liked travelling this far north around this time of year. The seemingly endless cold descending down from Atmora was uncomfortable. He could not wait to bury himself under a layer of blankets near a warm hearth, and his room at the inn would do the trick. He was somewhat of a regular at the Winking Skeever as he always rented a room there whenever he had a job in Solitude. He knew the innkeeper Corpulus Vinius well since they had an arrangement to allow meetings of Thieves Guild members. It was always pleasant to be in the company of friends, or in this case, allies. That way Esca had to worry less about backstabbing. Clasping the freezing doorknob and pushes the door open, he entered the warm inn. The room was heavy with the scent of charred wood and cooking food. It was utterly comforting after a long day. He pulled his hood down and shook his head slightly in a show of his weariness. An empty table sat by the wall furthest from the counter, and its solitary chair was very inviting to Esca.

With a sigh he sat heavily and rested both arms on the table in an improper fashion. A quick motion to one of the servers brought him a tankard full of ale. Clasping his fingers around the handle and brining the tankard to his mouth he took long, steady gulp. The golden froth burned its way down his throat, warming his insides and giving Esca a pleasurable buzz. He hoped the lull of alcohol would melt away the troubles he had encountered today. He had spent almost the entirety of the day arguing with the Guild’s inside man of the East Empire company over cuts. The constant bickering and accusing for hours until a resolution was found had left Esca mentally exhausted and his throat dry. That stupid lizard was always asking for so much in exchange for so little, it was simply maddening. He had only managed to find a middle ground by offering to clear up some of his debts in exchange for continued flow of income to the Guild. Utterly drained, his eyelids were heavy and his eyes ringed with dark. He took another swig of the ale to cleanse his parched throat.

A young woman entered the inn, Imperial by the looks of it. She took the corner table closest to the door where she was surrounded by three walls. The maiden ordered herself a meal and received a drink, but Esca did not pay much heed. He was too busy drowning in his own thoughts. But for an odd reason he decided to pull himself out from the maelstrom and to observe this girl. He made it very discreet and was careful not to draw attention to himself. Light blonde hair was slovenly braided, resting on her shoulder. Though an attractive woman, Esca couldn’t help but notice she smelled strongly of horse and the outdoors. Judging by this and her appearance, he gathered she travelled a lot. A glint of metal brought his attention to the expensive looking ring. Pondering about how he could possibly get that off her finger, he also figured that someone with such a magnificent ring must be carrying some septim in their pockets. After all, a traveler must have the coin to constantly find lodging and food. And the escapade earlier that day had left his pockets depressingly empty and hungry for gold. Seeing as she bore no obvious weapons she couldn’t possibly be a hunter. Even at this inn Esca had a quiver and bow strapped to his back. In a fit of boredom, he began to tap his fingers against the wooden table and stared blankly ahead, fantasizing different scenarios of him stealing her ring.

Minutes past by, and he noticed something odd about the girls behavior. She seemed nervous, unknowingly fidgeting. Esca was no stranger to this as he saw it all the time when cornering a target. Instantly, he saw his chance at her gold and ring. Seeing as the inn was near empty he could easily initiate conversation with the girl. Get close, win her trust, filch the ring and leave before she notices. Near foolproof. He grabbed the tankard and brought it to his lips

“You just roll into Solitude?” He gulped down some more ale. “You seem a little nervous, lass. No need to be, th’city is one of the safest in Skyrim,” Reassuring the Imperial with a small smile, he placed the tankard back down.

As the Imperial’s eyes wandered further, she caught sight of a small gathering by another end of the room. There weren’t all that many patrons, so the minuscule crowd was hard to miss. Their evening meal was long-finished and their plates empty, but they stayed on, deeply attentive to each other’s tales and jokes.

Rarely did Sibyl ever dine with company. During the infrequent occurrences when she joined the soldiers at a camp for a meal or was invited by acquaintances for a casual outing, she would eat in pensive silence, preferring to listen to the other’s discussions over her own feeble attempts for conversation. Every mouthful of berries, every swallow of venison became tasteless through her edginess, but she would eat it unthinkingly, as though she would never stop. When the group was finally left to ponder the last heel of bread, wondering who would reach for it first, Sibyl would take a final sip of her wine before politely excusing herself and retiring to her chambers.

That was not to say that the blonde was inept when made to interact with others, of course. She was expressive and animated when given an ear to talk to, but there was simply something so warm and intimate about sharing a meal with someone that Sibyl tended to grow uneasy. In the most basic of terms, she believed that a company of men and women gathered around a table together signified something much closer than associates from work or familiar names from the streets — it was the actions of a family or a close-knit community, and it reminded her far too much of what she didn’t have to be anything but unpleasant.

With a mixture of disappointment and melancholy, Sibyl turned her head away from the sight. Bright irises fell to her tankard and, when lifted once more, locked onto the gaze of a stranger. The girl could feel the apples of her cheeks begin to burn red almost immediately — how long had he been there? She wasn’t anywhere close to being as spectacularly observant as those who claimed it as a skill, but she liked to think she would’ve noticed the presence of another in such close proximity.

A long, drawn-out heartbeat later, Sibyl realized she was staring. She blinked, then cast her eyes downwards as her face flushed pink. Though she had never been given an abundance of guidance or advice on the matter, she knew at least the bare basics of good manners. After the small shock and minor embarrassment had died down, her mouth twitched heavenward in an apologetic smile, and she dared to look back up to gauge his expression.

She’d expected the man to turn away, maybe mutter something in response and then leave her be. Needless to say, she was more than surprised when he opened instead with a question at his tongue.

“You just roll into Solitude? You seem a little nervous, lass. No need to be, th’city is one of the safest in Skyrim.”

Nibbling lightly on the corner of her bottom lip, Sibyl shook her head in disbelief as a soft chuckle reverberated form her throat. Was her troubled discomfort so obvious? She spared another second to examine him, then tilted her head her side in bemused contemplation. It was interesting, she thought, that he had managed to sense what she felt just from a mere few moments of looking at her. She smiled, both out of courtesy and spiked intrigue, her hands coming to rest on the back of her chair as she turned to face him better.

“It is not the city that I fear, but the days I must spend outside of it.”

Eyes lit with strong hints of amusement, Sibyl made no move to elaborate on her statement. Instead, her hand reached for her metal tankard and spun it around its spot on the table. She was, of course, speaking in reference to her suspenseful intermission between tasks. Her expression shifted into a smirk, and she continued, “But what of you? You don’t look like you’re from here.” She paused, then threw in another query alongside a curious glance at the bow he carried. “Do you travel?”

Now that she was not afraid to look him in the eye, Sibyl could tell she had never once seen him within the city walls before. True, she did not linger in any one Hold for too long a time, but she had been in Haafingar long and often enough to recognize most of its native faces.

Behind her vivid smile and polite inquisition, however, lay a rather heavy trace of confusion. Had he sought to converse her by his own decision, or because she had studied him for an almost unnerving period of time and he felt compelled to speak? Although she was, for the most part, pleasantly surprised with his unexpected company, to say that she wasn’t at least a little unsure of his intentions would be something of a monstrous lie.

“I’m not, you’re right.” He said rather sheepishly with a grin

“I guess one could say I get around a lot. I tend not to stay in one spot too long,” It wasn’t a lie. If he wasn’t at home in Riften he was usually running all over Skyrim on missions for the Guild. Since guards tended to be suspicious of thievery that started when a certain individual entered town the day before, he didn’t stay for more than a couple of days. His current objective in Solitude was different however. Current relationships between the Guild and their informers had been strained due to lapses in payments from them. Esca had been sent to set the record straight and return the flow of income to normal levels. So much arguing back and forth nearly drove him mad and he was very much ready to go home to Riften. He’d been at the walled in city for nearly over a week at this point.

He wondered at what the Imperial girl was afraid of beyond the walls. Was she running away from someone or something? Or maybe she was a Solitude native who despaired at the thought of leaving the wall’s safety. A small smile crept up his face. Whatever her plans were, she was scared. And that left her vulnerable. For some odd reason though, he could not focus on the idea of stealing her valuables. Somewhere inside of him was being tugged uneasily and he felt the need to know more about her. Shifting in his chair, he addressed the Imperial again

“Don’t mean to intrude, but…why are you afraid?” Voice lowered and an intrigued expression, he politely asked. Since she was an Imperial in Solitude, after all, perhaps she was afraid of being targeted by Nords or Stormcloaks? Being a Nord himself, Esca was rarely met with resistance anywhere in Skyrim. However, he himself had not chosen a side to the Civil War, and this caused some anger in certain Nords who felt Esca was betraying his country and people by not picking. It’s not that he didn’t care for the war; it was in fact that he could not decide which faction he favored. Esca, though a thief, was somewhat devoted to the Divines. He grew up praying to Talos, and he was offended that he could no longer do so openly. Bitter at the Empire for giving in was one reason to join Ulfric. Such a decision would certainly gain him favors in those Stormcloak heavy areas. It could also give him more reason to steal from the Imperial supply caravans. However, deep down he knew that the Empire wasn’t Skyrim’s true enemy. The Thalmor were. And he knew that if Skyrim seceded it would just give more power to those damn elves, and make it easier for them to exterminate humans. Pressing his lips together, he asked cautiously again

“Is it because of the war? I’ll admit, travel’s been hard even for a Nord like me,” Laughing slightly at the though of a Nordsman having trouble passing through Skyrim was ironic to him. He didn’t know if the Imperial would get the joke though, so he kept his laughter quiet and short.

As the night crept further in, the crowd in the tavern had increased. The sound of hearty laughter and shouting had made it harder to hear. Luckily the crowd was centered near the hearth and a good distance from him. Having to speak louder was now no longer a security threat with the crowd so far off. He didn’t want to go announcing himself if there were potentially people in the crowd he had cheated or stolen from. The events of the day had left him in no mood for a public scrap. Though he rarely gave out a name and even rarer giving out his real name, for some reason he felt as if there was no harm in telling the girl his name. She appeared nice enough and he had no reason to suspect she was secretly plotting him harm. Somehow he still needed to poach her ring and gold and he had trouble concentrating on the topic. Trying to think up ways only got him suddenly disinterested and continued talking to the girl. An interesting thought made its way from the bottom of his mind. What if this whole time this girl was conning him? Her charms could have been useful for making him lower his defenses and when he was fully in her trust she would strike. He struck the idea from his head, noting how stupid it sounded. HE was the thief here in this situation. And he was clever enough to spot a scam, and this was not one. Clearing his throat as to expel the awkward thought, he looked at the Imperial girl again and smiled

“How rude of me, we haven’t been properly introduced. Th’ name’s Esca.”

The Imperial could only quirk her lip skyward at the male’s sheepish grin, his seemingly confident and open disposition a warmth in the night’s gentle chill. It was not until he spoke again that Sibyl shifted her gaze from its fixated spot on him to glance at her tankard. She lifted the chilled drink and took a healthy gulp before nodding in misplaced understanding. Sibyl interpreted the man’s words to mean that he was a traveller, perhaps a hunter of some sort — such was neither unheard of nor uncommon, after all, and it was a reasonable assumption. An obviously wrong one, but the most rational conclusion she could come to without the advantage of knowing the truth.

Mild and tender as she often come off as, Sibyl was certainly not naive by any means of the word. She’d seen a lot, learned a lot, and knew a lot, and could hardly be considered a sheltered child. However, for all her experience and knowledge of life, she had an oddity that she simply could not grow out of, no matter how many times it had been proven to be a flaw in her interior: though not entirely trusting, she tended to give strangers the benefit of the doubt when it came to their character until they’d shown her otherwise. It had caused the girl some grief in the past, if in small amounts, but she continued in her belief that it was better to pray for the best than to assume the worst.

Perhaps it was true — for many had told her before — that it was a simple minded way of thinking, but truth be told, she had no plans in trying to correct it.

Placing her tankard down, Sibyl folded her hands over each other on the surface of the table before addressing his question with a laugh. How was she to answer that? That she was afraid to walk the streets? Afraid to come across the people who slaughtered her uncle? Afraid to even look in the eyes of the men she so strongly wanted to fight against? She cast her gaze towards her fingertips, nails tracing indistinct shapes her skin. It was an innocent old habit that then took on an anxious urgency and also a fickleness, an indecision about what she could tell and what she must keep to herself.

He spoke again after a moment, and Sibyl couldn’t help the amused smile that graced her lips, wide and genuine enough to dim her worries, but not fade them away completely. The almost satirical notion was not lost upon her, and she shook her head slightly in incredulous laughter before calming herself with a deep breath. “I think travel can be hard on everyone, these days.” Her shoulders lifted themselves in a shrug, her blue-green irises never leaving contact with his as she continued on.

“There is much I fear,” Her head tilted slowly to one side, eyes darting off to the whispering flames of a nearby light before finding their way back to him. “The war itself is a small part of it.” At that, the tone of her voice altered into a more pensive tone, but her eyes and lips were still alight with light-hearted merriment. She once more failed to expand on her meaning, preferring not to talk of the events that led her to where she was that day. They were long, possibly uninteresting tales to hear of, and she wasn’t familiar enough with the Nord to tell them and expect him to listen. Her expression showed clearly that she was hiding something, but her smile disguised those bitter thoughts as a more teasing mirthfulness — almost as if she wasn’t letting him in on a joke.

Once more, Sibyl found her attention drifting to the bow that the man carried. This time, without as much concern for what he used it for, she found herself admiring the recurve. She knew very little about weaponry or smithing, but the sleek sheen of glass was recognizable even to her. Archery was the only form of combat she was vaguely knowledgeable in, and she found that a question had begun to form at the tip of her tongue. Before she could voice it, however, the dark-haired man’s voice cut through her curiosity.

She turned her face away from the bow and met his gaze with her nonchalant, level eyes. “Sibyl,” she said in way of response, her lips returning the smile in earnest. Her eyes shone with quiet fascination, tinged more with interest than caution now. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

A small nod of her head served as a substitute to what would have regularly been a curtsey; her soft blonde hairs fell around the sides of her face at the motion. Hastily, she tucked the loose strands behind her ear, then gestured tentatively towards the object of her earlier captivation. “Tell me, Esca,” she said, voice soft with hesitant reservation, testing the sound of his name upon her tongue, “Do you always carry that around?” Her eyes flickered from the bow to him, her lips quirking playfully as she added in jest to his earlier statement, “Even in one of the safest cities in Skyrim?”

“Heh, well I guess I’d rather be safe than sorry,” Esca said in an amused tone. In fact, he carried his bow around for two reasons. Firstly it was personal; as he is paranoid about misplacing it. Secondly, it was for security reasons. Having a weapon on you discourages clients or victims from fighting back. And Esca could never be too sure about when a hold guard may recognize him from past run-ins with the law.

“And I’m good with a bow; I can string a quiver and find my target in less than 5 seconds if the need arises.” A childish boast, but Esca was always for boasting.

The ale now was nothing but shallow froth in his tankard, so he set it off to the side. Placing both arms flatly on the table and clasping his hands, he scrunched his shoulders inward and leaned a bit forward.

“Even the brightest places cast shadows, Sibyl,” he warned in a slightly mocking tone. Dark recesses and suspicious alleys did not frighten him as they were he spent most of his time while on duty, so to say. He had learned long ago that dark was not filled with ghosties and ghoulies that elders warned you about. No, the real monsters strutted about in the open pretending to human. And the ones who could genuinely pass it off were the worst kind. Noting the Imperial’s lack of apparent weaponry, he raised both eyebrows

“In fact, it may be wise for you to start carrying a weapon wherever you go. Not that I think you’re incapable, but let’s face it. Travel anywhere south of the Reach and east of Hjaalmarch, and people are going to start growing suspicious of an Imperial.” It was the truth, an ugly truth if anything though. There was no intent of scaring her and his tone was even, if not a bit lecturing. It really was unwise for anyone to travel so unarmed in a time where anyone who wasn’t a raging Stormcloak supporter or outspoken Imperial sympathizer could get you killed-or worse. Sibyl did not appear weak and helpless though. Her lithe appearance suggested as much as she had said, that she travels far and wide for a living. Esca knew from experience that living on the road constantly had no allowances for luxuries such as guaranteed meals. For some odd reason, he had opted to walk from Riften to Solitude. He felt that travelling by horse wasn’t the same. Preferring his own feet to touch the ground and feel every pebble, depression, and crack so he may truly get a feel of his surroundings. Though the journey took much longer, almost a fortnight, he felt it was worth it. He now knew almost all landmarks and subtle details of the road to Solitude, which would no doubt aid him some day. But as a drawback he had arrived scrawny and tarnished. It did not bother him much; after all, a bath and a good meal would restore him to his former stature. However, he would most likely return to this state once he arrived back in Riften, which was another journey in itself. Retreating out from his thoughts of home, he glanced back at Sibyl. When the girl had mentioned that a lot gave her fright, she had a quick shift in expression. Undetectable to the untrained eye but as clear as the morning sky to Esca. Mirthful and coy, and avoiding the question.

Esca couldn’t help but allow a small smile to creep up his face. He loved the feeling of knowing what someone was trying to hide. And the girl was obviously hiding something. Whatever it was, he knew he could use it to his advantage somehow. Play off her fears or prescribe some silly advice and make it sound genuine. But he had to be careful. Any slip ups or underestimating her would result in an instant failure of his task. He brought his arms up off the table and folded them under his chin

“So if the war doesn’t scare you, what does? If civil war doesn’t make you flinch, I dread what does,”