What Is Yours Can Be Mine (PM / Invite)

[Jessamine Moonflower]

The morning had a routine. It began as it always did, she was torn from sleep as a weight pounced upon her formerly relaxed stomach, with a grunt of protest from her. Opening her eyes would reveal a pair of bright green ones peering insistently right back at her.

"Ooof.. Good morning to you too, Nicodemus." Closing her eyes once more, she muttered sleepily.

The large grey tomcat bounced off her chest, and across the furs covering her double bed. After a lingering moment of remaining comfort, Jessamine rose. Her eyes glanced to the single bunk against the wall where the bent form of her Aunt still dozed quietly. Creeping past on the balls of her bare feet, she made no sounds to wake the older woman. The floors were icy cold beneath her toes. The fire had burned low in the hearth during the night, all but out now. Only a few glowing coals remained.

Nicodemus was raking his claws down the door impatiently when she arrived. Opening the way for him, his sleek form slid out the door to prowl for breakfast, most likely at the Fishery. Pushing the shop door open wider, Jessamine stepped out onto the boards. It was early still. The merchants and vendors would still be setting up the market. The lake lapped quietly beneath her as she breathed in the morning air. Fish guts. Old mead. The faint odor of blood, and the unwashed bodies of the beggars who roamed the streets deftly picking the pockets of anyone they could.

Ahhh, Riften!

As one of the shop keeps, Miss Moonflower of The Curative Crucible had to prepare to open up for the day as well. Keeping the door closed and locked for now, she first knelt to restore the fire and bring some warmth to the chilled space that was both shop, and living area partitioned by a stone wall. Once that was done, she carried a flame with her, to relight the sconces and candles. While she could move in total darkness unhindered, customers did like to be able to see what they were buying. She warmed two bowls of.. mostly runny.. porridge for herself, and her Aunt Naeva, before gently waking the older woman. After eating, and getting her Aunt settled at the small table by the fire with a blanket across her lap, Jessamine readied herself. A neat white apron was tied over her simple blue dress. Auburn hair tied back from her face, braided down her back. An amulet of Mara hung about her neck, the thin black cord lost in the pink puckered skin there, and the myriad of scrolling lines inked into her flesh.

Eating the cooling porridge quickly, she made sure that she was ready to open the store. Everyday brought someone new needing something. Some potions she had ready made, the ones most in demand, but other items were special order and required seeking out ingredients. She sent a courier to those customers when their order was ready, and she had three of them coming in today, in addition to whoever else walked through the door. She yawned, truly not a fan or mornings.. but the store had to be maintained. Behind the counter, the strongbox kept some coins on hand, in case anyone stopping by had any specimens not found around Riften to purchase. It happened that she was always in the mood to buy some things not easily acquired.

Everything in order, Jessamine unlocked the door and returned to her work. Tomorrow would bring more pick ups.

[Variel Armenius]

The noise was, in a word, deafening; War-horns sounded over the thundering hooves of hundreds of horses, the furious screams of their riders, the clanking of armour plates. An audible, concussive boom rang out as the silver-clad horsemen collided with the golden lines of their foe... and then the screaming began; the screaming of dying men, elves and horses. So loud were their screams that they almost drowned out the shrieking of blades rending through armour and the drumming of shields deflecting glancing blows. This, surely, was the music of some gruesome orchestra summoned from Oblivion itself.

One of the riders had his horse taken from under him by an elvish spear, throwing him violently into the mud. He felt the wind knocked out of him and at least one rib crack, but he scrambled to his feet. To stay down was to die, as no fewer than three gold-clad elves rushed him, eager to finish him off. He ripped his sword free of its scabbard, having lost his lance in the fall, parrying the first attack just in time. The second found its mark, but luckily the thick steel of Variel's armour protected him from most of the moonstone blade's bite. Pain seared through his flesh and mind.

Waking with a start, the former Legionnaire reached for his weapon, feeling its reassuring grip before remembering where he was... and when he was. Muttering to himself, he rubbed the sleep from his eyes, sitting up beneath the canvas of his makeshift shelter.

"Every fucking night..." he grumbled, reaching for his canteen of water and quenching the morning's thirst.

Casting off the fur cloak he had been using as a makeshift blanket, Variel climbed out from his shelter, casting his gaze around. Mist hung low over Lake Honrich, the first rays of sunlight breaking through the trees that dotted the shoreline. It was eerily quiet, save for the calls of birds flying overhead. He had always felt more comfortable out in nature than in the hustle and bustle of a city, which is why he had approached Draven and his wife, the Dunmer owners of Merryfair Farm just outside Riften, seeking their permission to camp between the farm and the lake. They had been more than happy to accept and, in return for their generosity, he had been assisting them with various tasks around the farm.

After retrieving some clean clothes (https://vignette.wikia.nocookie.net/elderscrolls/images/8/8b/TESV_Faendal.png/revision/latest?cb=20120929000323) from the line he had rigged up above his campfire the night before, Variel walked down to the water's edge. He quickly bathed in the frigid water of the lake, eager to push away the last vestiges of sleep in the process. Once dried and dressed, he set about reigniting the smouldering embers of last nights fire in order to cook himself some breakfast. Checking his bags, Variel decided on a meal of eggs, some salted pork and a hunk of bread. His supplies were running low, so he made a mental note to visit one of the stalls in Riften's market later in the morning.

As he sat eating, the mist began to clear and he could now see the docks and fishery across the water. A few Argonians and Dunmer wandered sleepily up and down the boardwalks, obviously knowing their Nord employers were likely still slumbering. He allowed himself a smile, remembering how Legion camps had been in the early hours of the morning, before the officers had begun their shouting. Hearing a door open some distance behind him, he turned to see Draven emerging from the farmhouse.

"Morning!" He shouted with a wave, "I'm heading into town soon, need anything?"

"Think we're okay thanks, Variel, you mind your coins in that place!" Draven replied, laughing.

Chuckling, the Bosmer finished his meal and cleaned up before making sure his bags were repacked and stashed in front of the house. Could never be too careful in the Rift. His first stop was the same as every morning, the stables to check on Freya, his trusty steed. The mare had been with him for nearly a decade now and was still very much in her prime.

"Morning girl, you okay?" he asked, smiling as she whinnied in response, "Course you are. How's that hoof? You gonna let me take a look?"

Freya had, unfortunately, ended up with a limp a couple of weeks earlier thanks to an abscess. While it had almost healed, Variel was keen to accelerate the process before the next wave of Khajiit caravans arrived. It wasn't beyond the realms of possibility that one of them would end up hiring him to act as extra security, seeing as he had been employed in such a role several times over the years. If he was hired again, he would need Freya to be fighting fit. This, in addition to restocking his food supplies, had been what prompted him to make a trip into town. Draven had told him there was an alchemist's shop down on the edge of the canal that would almost certainly have something to speed things along.

As he leaned down and inspected Freya's hoof, he felt something rubbing up against his own leg. Glancing down, he was met by the sight of a large grey cat looking exceptionally pleased with itself, a mouse clamped between its jaws.

"Breakfast eh?" he laughed, giving the feline a scratch behind her ears before she wandered off, presumably to find somewhere quiet to eat her meal.

Leaving the stable and giving a nod to the guard who opened the gate for him, Variel made his way down the rickety stairs to the canal, careful not to slip on the damp planks; while he was happy to bathe in the lake itself, the waters inside the city were an entirely different matter. Soon enough he spotted the sign bearing the pestle and mortar insignia of an alchemist and, as he got closer, was able to read the name of the establishment, 'The Curative Crucible'. Musing on the fact that it was a far less ostentatious name than most shops of its kind seemed to possess, he opened the door and stepped inside.

It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the change in light, despite the candles burning in their sconces and the warm glow of the fire burning in its hearth, but when they did, he found himself face to face with a young Nord woman with dark auburn hair and intricate tattoos adorning her pale flesh.

"Good morning," he said, a polite smile upon his rugged face.

[Jessamine Moonflower]

Jessamine was at the far end of the counter, speaking in hushed tones to a young, disreputable looking male Breton, dressed in tellingly nondescript brown linen. Behind her, the sunlight coming through the door briefly illuminated the prism effect of the colored-glass bottles gracing the shelves behind her. Above the room, various herbs hung from the ceiling in different stages of drying, giving off a pleasant aroma.

"They are worth more than that." The Breton protested, attempting to haggle.

"Yes, I know." She nodded her agreement over the mysterious item, or items, concealed in the satchel on the counter between them. "I also know where you got them. While I commend you for not getting caught, or killed, in the process.. I want no trouble with Goldenglow Estate. Keeping these here implies that I was behind the act. A risk I am not taking on without some insurance of my own. Hence what I am offering. You are welcome to take them elsewhere. I wish you the best of luck." The Alchemist held firm on what she was offering, and pushed the satchel back toward the young man.

"Miss Moonflower will be right with you." The too-wise looking woman by the fire greeted the Bosmer who had just entered.

While the door had been open, the tomcat ran back inside, straight to the lap of Naeva. He turned in a slow circle making the old woman wince, before settling down to purr contently. She stroked his dark fur and looked up, scanning the elf with shrewd eyes.

"Feel free to look around. If you don't see something you are looking for, she may have it stashed away somewhere..", she told him.

At the counter, the Breton knew he was at the end of the rope. He pushed the satchel back and nodded. "I'll take the ten gold."

"Then we have a deal." Jessamine took the satchel and stowed it beneath the counter for now. Unlocking the strongbox, unseen behind the wooden counter, she took out the promised amount and counted it out for the Breton. He took the gold and left, with a slight scowl at the Bosmer on his way out.

"And what brings you into the Crucible today?", Jessamine directed her full attention to the single remaining customer.

[Variel Armenius]

"Thank you," Variel replied to the old woman sat before the fire with a smile.

Noting with some amusement that that cat he had met out in the stables had also made its way here, the Bosmer pondered the concept of coincidence for a brief moment before examining the various potion-filled shelves around him. Truth be told, he was no expert on the various alchemical solutions arrayed before him, so he was content to browse until Miss Moonflower had concluded her business with the Breton.

Being a 'half-breed', Variel was no stranger to receiving dirty looks from almost every race. In his early days in the Legion, and then later during the Great War, such visible disdain had been quite common. It was understandable, of course. Their enemy were elves, albeit of a different kind, yet there he had been; fighting for the Legion. Such prejudices had faded somewhat over time, but there was always an element of distrust for his kind, so the general dislike of elves here in Skyrim had not been much of a shock to him. Thus the Breton's scowl had barely registered to him.

When Miss Moonflower addressed him, he turned away from the brightly coloured liquids and crossed to the counter.

"I'm looking for something that will be suitable for use on an injured steed," he explained, "She had an infected abscess that's healing up, but I'm probably going to need to get back on the road soon; I was hoping you had something to speed up the healing process?"

The bond between Variel and Freya was strong, considering how heavily they each relied on the other for their survival and well-being. He'd had many horses over the years, some lost in battle, others retired due to age or infirmity, but Freya had been with him the longest.

"I'm not really familiar with alchemy, so I figured I would be better consulting an expert. Last thing I need is to poison the old girl," he added with a chuckle.

Standing closer now and his eyes having adjusted fully to the low light, Variel noticed the scars that interwove between the tattoos on the alchemist's neck and arms. In an effort to be polite, he did not let his eyes linger on them for more than the briefest of moments.

[Jessamine Moonflower]

The moment the half-Bosmer mentioned his purchase today was for a horse, Jessamine's demeanor changed from mildly curious, to completely professional.

Dragging a piece of parchment in front of her, with quill and ink she took notes while they spoke, to make the best judgement later.

"The abscess. What was it's original cause? Animal bite? Rock in her hoof, what precisely?"

At the table by the fire, Naeva smiled and stroked the cat. Confident in the abilities she had passed down to her niece, she knew what to do.

"You made the smart decision.", the alchemist nodded. "Others might have just retired the mount.."

[Variel Armenius]

"Plant material I think; a fallen branch or something similar. When I lanced the abscess there were several large splinters in there, too large to have come from a bush or undergrowth."

Variel was impressed by the professional diligence Miss Moonflower was showing, already feeling considerably more at ease with the choice he had made. Entrusting the skills of a stranger to handle a matter like this was not easy for him; he had seen the effects of poisons in his time, some of which had started out as badly-mixed potions. As if to echo his thoughts, the alchemist offered some reassurance, causing him to smile.

"It would be a crime to retire a steed like Freya; She's been the key to my survival and my livelihood for nearly a decade, since I arrived in Skyrim," He explained with a shake of the head.

The bond between horse and rider was always a special one, but the bond between cavalryman and his mount was stronger still. So strange, that beings from two so vastly different species could trust in one another so completely, that they would plunge into Oblivion itself together. Whether or not it was his Bosmer half that gave him such insight into the feelings of an animal, in turn forging a deeper connection, he did not know. Such deep-rooted feelings had never been something he could articulate very well.

"Plus I think she enjoys the road even more than I..." He added with a chuckle.

[Jessamine Moonflower]

Completing her notes, Jessamine kept the parchment in hand as she turned to the shelves behind her, speaking over her shoulder to the Half-Bosmer. "You mentioned wanting to be gone soon. I do have some remedies already mixed that should be sufficient."

Rummaging through the various bottles she moved three to the counter top between them.

"Least to most costly.", she explained, touching each bottle, counting on his fondness for his mount to guide his decision on just how many coins he was willing to part with.

"This is the basic healing draught. This one is made with more costly ingredients, as is the last and most costly, but this one does not simply heal, it heals and continues to heal over time. It also has the properties of curing minor diseases, should there be any lingering contagion from the wound."

Tilting her head, Jessamine watched him weigh the decision. "You tell me..."

[Variel Armenius]

Had Variel been aware it was happening, he would have been impressed by Jessamine's flawless attempt at gauging his quality as a mark. In truth, he remained blissfully unaware of the subtle undertones their conversation had been developing.

"Yeah apparently a guy up at Shor's Stone is looking for someone to clear some spiders out of his mine. If Freya's well enough I can be there and back before the first of the Khajiit arrive in a couple of days," he said, explaining his eagerness.

The start of the new caravan season was fast approaching and the mine job would keep his coffers healthy enough to make any preparations for any travelling he would undertake. For now, he listened intently as the alchemist explained the differences between the three bottles she had placed on the counter in front of him. Her assumptions, of course, had been spot on; when it came to Freya, no expense would be spared.

"I'll take the last one," He said with very little hesitation, reaching inside his tunic and retrieving his coin purse, "How much do I owe you?"

[Jessamine Moonflower]

Jessamine nodded along as the Half-Bosmer provided her with a great deal of free information on which direction he would be taking out of town when he did manage to leave.

"Sounds like straightforward work. Shor's Stone is not far. Your mount would do well to be decently fed and stabled during the duration of your stay there. That leg needs rest.", she advised, making a few additional notes, tallying up his cost.

Before settling on a price, Jessamine took down a few fresh bundles of wheat and a few other ingredients. Expert hands crushed the ingredients together quickly in a mortar and pestle, before pouring the dried mixture into a parchment envelope. "I assume your Freya is stabled close now? Take this mixture to Shadr at Riften stables. For a few coins he will show you the proper way to mix it with her food. He'll administer the potion as well, if you require it. That Redguard is a wonder with horses."

He was also in the debt of the Thieves Guild, and until he'd paid it off provided the members with intelligence on who was coming and going at the stables. Jessamine knew where the Half-Bosmer was heading, when he would leave - courtesy of Shadr, and most important, that he carried a heavy purse.

"You can have the potion, and the feeding supplement for two hundred gold pieces."

With extended healing properties, and the cure for minor diseases included, it was less than what they were worth... but she would be taking the rest soon enough.

[Variel Armenius]

"I knew a few Nord and Redguard that used to mix mountain flowers in with their horses' wheat. It was difficult to keep a steady supply while we moved around as much as we did, so I didn't really try it..." Variel commented as he watched Jessamine preparing the mixture, stroking his chin in thought, "Guess I should have."

"Unfortunately, when it comes to Frostbites, nothing is ever straightforward," he chuckled, "Although rather them than Draugr."

Listening carefully to the alchemist, he nodded when she enquired whether she was stabled nearby. He had spoken to the stable-hand on a couple of occasions and could tell he knew what he was doing.

"Aye, Redguard certainly have a gift with steeds. Shadr appears to be no exception," He agreed, smiling, "I'll speak to him today."

Reaching into his purse, he rummaged through it before plucking out several brightly coloured gemstones. The concept of travelling light was so well ingrained into his mind that he often preferred to trade in precious stones rather than carry round hundreds of coins.

"Tell you what, while I'm here... If I give you say... two garnets and an amethyst," he enquired, placing them on the counter, "Would you throw in some more of the wheat and mountain flower on top? Wouldn't hurt to have my own stock of it on the road."