Gilmyn gave a great yawn, jaw cracking as he stretched his arms above his head. Abandoned caves were the absolute worst place to nap – for one, the floors were rarely if ever comfortable, and for two, sometimes the term ‘abandoned’ was up for debate. Still, there were no good inns lying between Eastmarch and Winterhold. (And even if there was, he wouldn’t be able to afford one. Since he’d paid for that repair to his enchanting table, his pockets were lighter than air.)
The good news was that the godsforsaken little city of Winterhold was very close by. Tugging his ridiculous fur cloak around himself, the Dunmer set off towards the cluster of rundown wooden buildings in the distance. He’d managed to get into contact with someone at the College selling cheap enchanting materials, and could only pray to Azura that this trip up north was worth the trek and potential frostbite.
Gilmyn entered the Frozen Hearth, shaking off his cloak and earning himself a long-suffering glare from the barkeep. “Don’t mind me,” he grumbled as he sat down at a nearby table to wait for the mysterious merchant.
The Khajiit shivered at the rush of cold darting up his robes from someone entering the inn, ears pricking as he roused from his nap on…ah damn, he’d drooled over his textbook again… He sniffed drowsily, finding his half-bottle of mead and taking a drink, tipping it back…back… He set it down, empty, rubbing his face for a good few moments, mumbling a handful of Dunmeri curses at his headache. He’d been studying, hadn’t he?
“Need another, or are you heading back?” Dagur asked. J’hasi took a deep breath, then let it out in a hiss.
“Yeah…’nother.” May as well. He wasn’t understanding the text anyway and he really wasn’t looking forward to heading back to the College just yet.
vvardenfellcat 