Better a bird in the woods [Selkion and Elegia]
It is a particuarly busy day, shown by the way everyone from Initiates to High Inquisitors rush about the premises as if though they have the Councils whips lashing after them. There had been a riot the day before, and while no one important got hurt, it is still quite the shame for the Thalmor to admit. So here they are, whipping gossip out of prisoners and bribing inmates for information, desperate to be the first one to find out exactly what started it.
One mer, however, stands out amongst the bustling crowd.
He walks slowly, not quite limping but still walking with a cane, his back is crooked and his expression is remarkably calm. His skin is yellow like aged parchment rather than the golden yellow the Altmer so revere, wrinkled much as if though his skin had been made a bit too big on him and then made to hamng off his bones. He wears a pair of glasses, which is perhaps not that remarkable for a mer his age, and behind his glasses glint two pale, golden eyes.
He might have been handsome once, but truth is he was probably never much more than ordinary, and he probably looks far more interesting like this, with nothing but white tufts instead of hair, than he ever did in his youth.
No one bothers him, the ones who passes him gives him a nod in respect or acknowledgement, and he nods politely back, slowly making his way over the courtyard.
"Well met, Justiciar Yernadin," he says when arriving at the prison doors, which are large and unwieldy, guarded with so many enchantments the steel-enhanced wood creeks beneath its weight. He is adressing the young womer standing guard, her gaze slightly feverish and her back straight, like all young Justiciars these days.
"Sera Aldataur," she answers, inclining her head but not bowing at the waist, which is really quite rude but Selkion doesn't comment, "What are you doing here?"
Selkion reaches into his robes, mutters for a bit while he searches his pockets before pulling out a wrinkled, but still official looking, note. He gives it to the Justiciar, who raises an eyebrow, but takes it without a word. When she reads it, her eyebrows climb even higher.
"You can't be serious." Her voice takes a higher note, which makes the slight cadent accompanying a storm-mage more noticeable, "You can't just -"
"I assure you, Justiciar, that this is no joke." He shakes his head, resting his gnarly hands on his slightly bent cane, "So if you would give me the key, I will conclude my business with haste, and you can start guarding another door, and another prisoner."
"Justiciar." Selkions voice becomes lower, even if it is still as raspy as before, but behind it is the weight of an Illusion mage, which seems to make the Justiciar remember just exactly who she's talking too.
"Of course, Sera. My apologies, Sera." She bows, properly this time, handing a heavy looking key to Selkion, who takes it without a word.
"You are dismissed, Justiciar." Selkion concludes, turning round to open the door. It doesn't take long, even with all the enchantments, for him to turn the key the right amount of times. He has done this for ages, he could disenchant a door in his sleep, if need be. He does not open it all the way, though, because if he did, there is really no way of knowing how if would affect the womer inside. According to his reports, it has been some... time since she last saw sun.
"Good afternoon, Commander Hidra."
