Marcurio winced inwardly at the memory of their last visit to Windhelm. As a man, he couldn’t abide by how she had been treated by the unsuitably named Rolff Stone-Fist. As her protector, she had made him stand by and watch her defend her own honor. And as a friend, he had stayed by her side in the New Gnisis Cornerclub, weathering the unpleasantness hurled his way to comfort her.
The elves there, however, had not been terribly generous in their sympathies. Ultimately, he had taken her to Candlehearth Hall, where even if there were no friendly faces, at least there was a quiet room that was actually clean. He had gone so far as to tease her, trying to goad her into attacking him, in an effort to shake her from her deep withdrawal from the world. In the end, simply holding her and waiting had brought her out. She had shed a few silent tears into his robes, before succumbing to sleep in his arms.
He had never been more homesick in his life. And watching her pathetic form, hand clutching feebly at his clothes, he found that he was not the only stranger in Skyrim.
“Her” F!DB/Marcurio 4/?
The elves there, however, had not been terribly generous in their sympathies. Ultimately, he had taken her to Candlehearth Hall, where even if there were no friendly faces, at least there was a quiet room that was actually clean. He had gone so far as to tease her, trying to goad her into attacking him, in an effort to shake her from her deep withdrawal from the world. In the end, simply holding her and waiting had brought her out. She had shed a few silent tears into his robes, before succumbing to sleep in his arms.
He had never been more homesick in his life. And watching her pathetic form, hand clutching feebly at his clothes, he found that he was not the only stranger in Skyrim.