"I cannot believe you brought a Bosmer here, Wenselyr! Do you even know if he's purely bred?"
"As charming as ever, Eldafire." Wenselyr sighs quietly, and resists the urge to rub his temple. It would only serve to make his sister that much more unpleasant to be around. At least they were alone- Elda had lead him away from the family for this conversation. 'Catching up,' indeed.
"Your adopted son." Eldafire interjects sharply.
"My son. As I informed mother and father when I wrote to tell them we would be attending, and they no doubt informed you." The corners of his mouth twitch down for a moment, the only expression of irritation Wenselyr allows himself. "I had his purity checked when I took him to the healers as an infant. He is not of mixed parents." Mostly. It had been a move of preservation to have Bielrin's bloodline checked as well as it could be when Wenselyr had realized he'd be keeping the boy. The healer, at least, had agreed to reinforce that Bielrin's heritage if asked.
Eldafire's mouth thins. "Thank Auri-El for small miracles. He is well behaved, at least."
"You are taking this remarkably well." The shorter altmer snorts and turns away from him, facing her desk instead.
"I'm being realistic. You never were quite right when we were children. Always trying to be different in your strange way. Better. There's no reason you should be normal now." She puts a hand down, brushing the tops of the potion bottles littering her workspace. Eldafire frowns. "Finding him in the mountains, indeed. It sounds like something out of a storybook, Wenselyr, surely you realize that? But then, you always did like being dramatic."
"Dramatic is a strong word, 'Fire."
"Don't call me that!" Eldafire whirls to face him, scowling.
"Ah. Still sensitive, then." Wenselyr doesn't react when his sister scowls and snarls something angry at him. "I had thought after two hundred fifty years, you would be less upset by the name."
"Shut up, Cryomancer Wenselyr. This instant."
"I am not one of your soldiers, 'Fire. Do not order me. It is hardly my fault you didn't fulfill your own prediction of magical power. Siblings of Ice and Fire, indeed."
"Shut UP!" Blind with anger, Eldafire flings an arm out behind herself and catches her fingers around the first potion they touch, and throws it.
----------------------------------
"And that's when the kraken grabbed my best mate, dragged him screaming towards the edge of- Ah! Wenselyr, my boy, we've been wondering where- Wen, lad, you.."
"I am alright, Grandfather. Though I think I should see a healer shortly." Wenselyr ignored the startled shout from Bielrin, in favor of concentrating on not stumbling into something. He reached out a hand to brace himself on the wall.
"Shortly my soggy beard, boy, you're seeing one now! Who did this to you? Your eyes look like someone threw acid in them!"
"A.. miscalculation. Don't worry about it, please."
"Don't worry about it! I-"
"Grandfather, the healer?"
