The Elder's Scrolls

Not Dead

The horrid sound of sobbing was the first thing she heard. It was a dull and strangely muted sound, but still held the sharp, guttural pitches of a distressed being.

Her senses were dull as well. It took a moment for the feeling of the cold stone underneath her to seep into her skin. With a jolt, she sat up, muscles tense.

An ear - splitting shriek escaped her lips as a wave of nauseating pain flooded her mind and filled her with an empty sickness.

The sobbing intensified as the young woman fell back against the ground, unconsciousness overtaking her once more.

--

There was a chill against her lips, then a deep burning sensation that spread throughout her face in a matter of seconds that woke her up.

On instinct, her arm flew upwards, knocking the silver goblet from her mouth. Greenish - grey eyes opened wide as the burning feeling festered on the back of her hand. A scream rose in her chest, and soon broke from her lips.

"Torra! Torra, thank the gods you're okay -"

The frantic murmurings of a familiar voice faded from the young assassin's ears as her senses came rushing back in a blur.

She was aware of the pain on her lips and hand; the smooth, stone floor beneath her; the sound of a wind draft somewhere near; voices.

Torra sat up abruptly, eyes narrowed against the sharp light of the chamber. Her eyes wandered around the familiar room, stopping momentarily on each face gathered around her.

Nazir.

Cicero.

Babette.

There were two faces she didn't recognize, belonging to a Dunmer and Bosmer, both females.

Cicero's high - pitched cry of joy ached deep in her ears, but she said nothing. Her throat was far too dry to speak.

Nazir's deep, accented voice soothed her ears.

"Torra, are you alright?"

She shook her head. Unable to speak, she motioned to her throat. Nazir nodded.

"Indrele, be a dear and go fetch some water for our friend here. Make haste."

The Dark Elf nodded and scurried off, dark hair flying behind her.

Nazir frowned at Torra. "What happened to you, girl? Everyone was worried sick."

Withstanding the pain, Torra spoke in a dry and cracked voice:

"I went out to find the elf. The mixed breed. She bested me. I thought I was dead,"

"You were. But I saved you."

Torra turned her gaze to Babette. The vampire's shoulders were shaking. Her chin trembled threateningly, and her eyes were swelled with tears.

"Thank you," Torra grimaced at the increasing pain in her throat.

Babette only nodded.

Cicero opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by Nazir.

"Cicero, why don't you go into town and get us some mead? We're running low,"

Cicero grinned. "Oh, yes, yes! Cicero will fetch the mead for the deadly assassins!" With a merry kick, the ginger Imperial skipped away.

Nazir turned to the Bosmer. "Thaurel, why don't you accompany our jester, hm? Make sure he doesn't do anything stupid."