The Dragonborn crossed her arms. “You didn’t answer my question. But since I don’t expect a real answer, by all means, ask away.”
“Now who’s pouting!”
“Just ask your question.” She groused.
“Why did you leave?”
Her eyes bore into his, but he did not respond. “I think you know better than to expect a real answer to that, just as I know not to expect one from you.”
He didn’t flinch. “Do you miss it?”
There was a long silence, and he held his breath waiting for any sort of response.
The Dragonborn heaved a heavy sigh and looked into the hearth. Her eyes were unreadable. “Some days, yes.”
Marcurio put down his mug and heaved a sigh of his own. “I suppose neither of us have an easy road home.”
Her eyes found his. “Is it? Still home, I mean?”
He didn’t have an answer for her, and she didn’t expect one. So he played with his mug, turning it this way and that. Inspecting, without real interest, the marks of use all over its polished surface. It was why her next question caught him unawares.
“Why do you hate caves so much? You used to like exploring them at one point.”
He smirked, “I might be more interested if you weren’t always finding ones intent on killing us.”
She looked at him curiously, “You don’t find the relics of the Dwemer fascinating?”
“I would find the Dwemers' mechanical guardians fascinating if they didn't try to kill everything on sight." He said dryly.
“Fair enough.” She chuckled.
“What about you?” He asked. “Why do you like exploring them so much?”
Marcurio did not expect the amount of emotion that came over her before she subdued it.
“Sorry, I…” He fumbled for an apology, “I didn’t think it was such a personal question...”
The woman waved him off, and he sat there, motionless. The Dragonborn never lost control, not like this. She got angry, frustrated, and sometimes even laughed more than necessary, but this…
“Some Call it Foolishness” F!DB/Marcurio 15/?
The Dragonborn crossed her arms. “You didn’t answer my question. But since I don’t expect a real answer, by all means, ask away.”
“Now who’s pouting!”
“Just ask your question.” She groused.
“Why did you leave?”
Her eyes bore into his, but he did not respond. “I think you know better than to expect a real answer to that, just as I know not to expect one from you.”
He didn’t flinch. “Do you miss it?”
There was a long silence, and he held his breath waiting for any sort of response.
The Dragonborn heaved a heavy sigh and looked into the hearth. Her eyes were unreadable. “Some days, yes.”
Marcurio put down his mug and heaved a sigh of his own. “I suppose neither of us have an easy road home.”
Her eyes found his. “Is it? Still home, I mean?”
He didn’t have an answer for her, and she didn’t expect one. So he played with his mug, turning it this way and that. Inspecting, without real interest, the marks of use all over its polished surface. It was why her next question caught him unawares.
“Why do you hate caves so much? You used to like exploring them at one point.”
He smirked, “I might be more interested if you weren’t always finding ones intent on killing us.”
She looked at him curiously, “You don’t find the relics of the Dwemer fascinating?”
“I would find the Dwemers' mechanical guardians fascinating if they didn't try to kill everything on sight." He said dryly.
“Fair enough.” She chuckled.
“What about you?” He asked. “Why do you like exploring them so much?”
Marcurio did not expect the amount of emotion that came over her before she subdued it.
“Sorry, I…” He fumbled for an apology, “I didn’t think it was such a personal question...”
The woman waved him off, and he sat there, motionless. The Dragonborn never lost control, not like this. She got angry, frustrated, and sometimes even laughed more than necessary, but this…
“Her name was Katria.”