The World-Eater's Eyrie

Cerise; The Most Casual of Days

Thwap!
There was a soft thud as the small prairie rabbit collapsed and slid through the dirt to a stop. Cerise brushed away a few of those incorrigible baby hairs that always seemed to fall right into her eyes. She sighed as a cool breeze ruffled the stray hairs back down into her face and frowned at herself. The nord woman shook off the thought and made her way to retrieve the dusty brown rabbit from the clearing a few yards ahead.


She held it up by the furry limbs and examined the death blow. Right through the eye,like always.She smiled at herself, taking a cord of twine and wrapping it around the feet of the corpse and looping it through her belt. She quietly recollected on the thought of gauging a few septims for it when she reached her next destination.

While securing the rabbit, she did a small inventory check, counting the game she had bagged and then over her personal food stock.She was doing pretty well, actually. She had left Helgen not long ago, and Riverwood was less than an hour walk away. When she got there, she would sell the game she had bagged this morning, purchase a room at the inn, and then take requests from anyone that preferred fresh, cleanly killed meat. She would stay anywhere from a few days, to a fortnight, depending on how well they paid and how much she couldn't stand them. But, the longest she had ever stayed in a place since she left Falkreath, was two weeks. In a way, that was her self-imposed deadline.

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She reached the town around noon. The sun was beating down harshly on her neck as she trudged up the main street. It was unseasonably warm this time of year and it was a faint reminder that the winter could possibly not be as harsh as it usually was. The woman had grown accustomed to the strange stares the civilians and guards always gave her. Perhaps it was the hideous scars that mauled her face, or maybe, it was because she was an outsider walking their judgemental streets. The town of Riverwood grew increasingly tighter-knit every time she ventured over and many seemed to dislike the thought of a wanderer waltzing through their midst. The only reason she ever felt lucky to be so scary to sheltered townsfolk, was because nobody ever seemed to bother her, she liked that.

The Inn was near the center of the nearly vacant town, and she stopped before the steps that led to the door. It was made with some sort of old wood. Maybe a maple tree. The windows were covered, but even being covered, she could still see the film of grime that came from years of buildup of tobacco smoke. The roof was shabby and the plants all around the whole building seemed to be lifeless and dull. It wasn't just this building though, the whole town looked as if it were in desperate need of a good fix-'er-upper. She frowned at everything around her. If the town was in bad shape, that meant so were the people, and the coin. Cerise sighed through her straight teeth, eyeing the golden gaze of her canine companion. He looked up at her expectantly as she stood in the threshold of the Sleeping Giant inn. Bruse gave a soft whine in compliance with her own thoughts and she wondered for probably the hundredth time if his presence would affect her bartering with the local townspeople.

She slid into the small inn quietly. The room smelled strongly of smoke and faintly of food. Bread maybe? She passed by the rows of nearly empty tables and took a seat at the bar. Without even glancing up at whoever was servicing her, She dug a few septims out of her sack and placed them on the smooth countertop.
"A cup of whatever tea you serve, preferrably lavender, and something filling."

Her blue eyes glanced up into the dark brown of the nord's and he silently collected the stack of coins from the polished counter and went to work preparing her meal. Cerise watched him briefly before turning to survey the inn. It was pretty vacant, beside another woman who was carelessly sweeping the floor and watching the only other patron, an old drunk who casually drank from a tall mug of ale.

The woman would comment every so often on his pacing and he would grunt something incoherent in response. She swiveled back in her chair as food was presented. A small helping of salmon steak and snowberry tea. She ate slowly, eyes focused on her meal as the silence of the inn weighed down on her heavily.