Her Libertine - Mordessa/Nayan Storytime

Silence.

Mordessa slowly opened her eyes, noticing her fur was wet with the dampness in the air. She felt like she had slept for an age. A grogginess fell upon her head as she lurched upwards, blinking in the dull light. Dull light? Wasn't she outside?

Mordessa looked about, recognising her situation. She had been laying on the dirt beneath her Mistresses' home for Gods know how long, and a thick, white mist had cloaked the surrounding area. The stony pathways that struck off in each direction ended in a milky gloom. Even the grasses on the hills surrounding the place seemed to disappear - the sky and sun were almost non-existent. Everything was dull and seemed to merge into one giant grey entity. Mordessa stood up, brushing dirt and grime off her clothing. She frowned, more perturbed than angry - mist was dangerous. The visual impairment was obvious, but it was the reduction in hearing that worried her. Khajiit have sharper senses than most, but she was as helpless as a smoothskin in this thick fog. Dulled ears and blinded eyes, whilst travelling up a mountain. She sniffed, smelling for any kind of sign - for a moment, she could've sworn she smelt something sweet, but then it was gone. Only the taste and smell of mildew.

Mordessa slowly scrambled up onto the wooden planks, her soft paws making them heave ever so slightly. Mordessa welcomed the feeling of the damp wood. Home was close. She took slow, deliberate steps as she began to weave her way through the fog. Strangely, the wood was not so damp as to impede her footing but the mist seemed determined to make her progress as slow as possible. As she clambered across the larger platforms, it was almost like wading through a thick soup. Yet across the dangerous and rickety beams, it seemed to dissipate slightly. As the hours drew on, Mordessa began to feel uneasy. Time almost felt as if it had stopped - no light or darkness would break through the screen of white haze, along with no sound. No owls or eagles, no insects, no soft breeze, no clopping of hooves down below, not even the howling wind which Mordessa was sure she would start hearing now, pierced the milky bubble around her. It was almost suffocating. Mordessa slumped against the rockface of the mountain on one of the innumerable larger platforms, sinking into the flea-bitten carpet her Mistress had so graciously left scattered about the platforms leading to her domain. She needed to see colour, anything but the pale around her. Her palm opened, and a tiny flame emerged - the colour almost blinding the small Khajiit's eyes. The vivid oranges danced in her palm, and Mordessa eased slightly. Fire. Warmth. Life.

In the veil beyond the sky, something laughed.

Mordessa was on her feet, fire dancing in both hands. The sound had come as quickly as it had left, but she had heard it. Was it Ra? No, Ra wasn't allowed near the mountain, somehow. Maybe even Ra was wary of Mistress. Was it Tsajasuna? Maybe. But Mistress had no patience for this kind of magic...and there was malice in that laugh. Evil. No, this was something unknown, something new. Mordessa's mind raced with possibilities, sweat beginning to bead on the fur of her forehead. Fire purred in her hands, ready to explode at a moment's notice. The long climb had allowed her to gather up enough magicka to fend off an attacker.

Suddenly, she could hear footsteps. The footsteps of something walking slowly. A person. They were distant, but carried unnaturally well in the fog. She realised, to her horror, where they were coming from. An icy chill ran down her spine.

They were coming from in front of her.

The mist had been a trap from the start, and Mordessa had walked right into it. Something knew she would be here, and found her sleeping at the bottom of the mountain. Something that was cold. Something that had laughed.

The noises became hurried - someone was rushing down the planks, faster and faster. Mordessa stepped back, torn between running back down the mountain or facing whatever was heading straight for her. Her breath was ragged, her small frame heaving with adrenaline. The noise was on top of her. She faced forwards, standing, bracing for whatever horror would emerge.

She was slammed to the wooden floor from behind.

"Wh-"

Mordessa felt a body on top of her, and felt the brush of armour against her fur. She couldn't see who or what it was, but it was vaguely human-shaped. She called her flame, but nothing sprang forth - had she run out of magicka? Mordessa's mind went blank as she frantically flailed her arms, pure panic taking over. The thing had sapped her of reserves, somehow. A cold hand grasped the scruff of her neck - Mordessa felt claws dig into her fur, as she was pushed harder against the wood. The body behind her leaned close to her face, and Mordessa finally caught sight of her attacker - fear gripped her heart. Eyes as milky and nebulous as the evil fog that had snared the Khajiit stared back at her. Human-shaped was the only thing human about it.

Nayan had finally caught his prey.

----

"You would have walked these planks forever, had I not been gracious enough to laugh at your...ineptitude."

The voice was like black velvet, filled with aspersion and allurement. The Khajiit stared at the face of her attacker - that of a beautiful young...man? Woman? Mer? Man? Whatever it was, Mordessa was in trouble. For what she had noticed was the mouth of her attacker - fangs as sharp as arrowheads lined it, jagged silouettes against a slimy black mouth. A hiss emanated from its throat, as it bared its fangs - saliva dripped from them, as a snake-like tongue tasted the air. Mordessa had never seen anything like it. She didn't know what to do. The mouth closed as the tongue lapped up any errant drool, and the voice dripped down into her ears again as the creature leaned back on its haunches. Terror made Mordessa lay still now, although a hand still gripped her scruff.

"No thanks? No rage? No words for me?"

Her attacker snarled, like a wolf closing in on its prey. Mordessa gasped as she was heaved to the side and flipped, her thighs rubbing uncomfortably on the creatures as she was turned skyward. The hand clasped tightly around her neck again - she felt magicka emanate from it, and she felt her wrists grow unbearably heavy. A spell was robbing her of her magicka. She lay helpless, but decided to look upon the creature who had caught her. Her mouth fell open.

Black and white and silver. All teeth and claws and smiles. Whatever had caught her had skin as white as Secunda and eyes as black as the Void. It was clad in tight fitting - and rather skin baring, Mordessa noted - Ebony, but not a thick Ebony like Veitizion. It was more like the shell of a beetle, which clung to the soft white underbelly of its monstrous owner. Silvery hair fell about its cruel face, as its eyes stared into Mordessa's - haloed by the thick, glossy fur scarf it wore about its shoulders. It was kneeling over the docile form of the young Khajiit, holding her hips between its thighs. As irrational as it was, a small surge of embarassment blossomed within Mordessa - for she couldn't tell the gender of the damnable thing. Yet here she was, sprawled beneath it like some tavern wench, in cloths and rags that barely covered her. She could feel the expensive-looking black patterned cloth of it's skintight breeches against her thighs, and the feeling of metal - probably Ebony - heels digging slightly into her calves. Oddly, she was reminded of Tsajasuna's black heels.

Its smile could only be described as ungodly.

The hand around her neck loosened slightly, as Mordessa gathered her thoughts and closed her agape jaw. The creature spoke again, cooing slightly.

"Such a tender creature, and an easily tricked one at that. Tell me, what is your name? Why are you here on these steps?"

Mordessa could feel the disdain in its voice, as if it already knew the answers to its questions. Every word flashed those awful teeth. She decided - it must be some kind of Daedra, and certain Daedra love to talk. Tsajasuna had told her little about Daedra and their Princes, but some were willing to talk and more were willing to gloat. Otherwise she would be a red wet pile on the wooden beams right now. She would talk while a plan was formulated in her mind.

She hoped.

"M-my name is Mordessa, ser. I have been travelling up these steps to see my Mistress, the Great White Witch, Tsajasuna. Have you heard of her?"

The creature seemed pleased by this response, and caressed her neck with its hand. The smile widened - Mordessa noticed some sort of symbol etched onto the bottom lip. A strange wave of deja vu washed over her. Had she seen that symbol before?

"I have - I am related to Mistress Tsajasuna. I think I will be able to see her today as well."

The creature closed its eyes, heavy eyelids drooping over with lashes as long and heavy as any courtesan. Mordessa couldn't help but marvel at the prettiness of the creature, but it was a decadent and empty prettiness. Rotten glamour that it wore like a mask. The creature placed its other hand over its chest, like it was recalling a painful memory - claws as dark as the ebony, attached to blackened fingertips almost disappeared into the void of its breastplate. A few seconds passed in silence. Mordessa remembered - she had to keep it talking.

"What is your name, u-um..."

Two white pearls glowed under the lashes of the creature as it looked down on Mordessa's face. Its hand stroked Mordessa's jowls and nuzzled her whiskers. A loathsome feeling.

"My name...is Nayan. I have been searching for Mother's apprentice for quite some time, as Mother wouldn't tell me where you were herself. So, you - Mordessa - are the Great White Witches apprentice? You're...smaller than I anticipated."

Mordessa was still, but her mind raced. Mother? Searching? The thought of Mistress engaging in the pleasures of the flesh gave rise to all sorts of ghastly images, but this Nayan wasn't a Khajiit. It wasn't an anything. It was quite obviously evil and had wicked intentions. Was it a creation of magic? A summoned creature from some Gods-forsaken part of the universe? It had been searching for her? Why? Mordessa noted that the voice the creature used was boyish in tone. Masculine. So she would know him as a boy-thing.

A sudden look of fury contorted Nayan's face, his hands clutching Mordessa's jaw like a vice. A single word was spat at Mordessa.

"Speak."

"U-uh, y-yes, I am, Ser Nayan! Forgive me, b-but I did not know the Mistress had such a u-unique relative!"

Nayan's face softened - fruitless as it was, he appreciated her clumsy attempts at flattery. He could understand why Tsajasuna had allowed her to stay with her as an apprentice.

"Well, I am her masterpiece. But there is something...unique about you too, little Mordessa."

His hand lifted from Mordessa's neck and his palm opened, his fingers resembling some horrific five-legged spider. The claws traced a line down Mordessa's neck to her scarf. His hand hovered over it.

"There. There is something here."

Nayan grasped the scarf and tore it away from Mordessa's chest. She cried out and closed her eyes, and instinctively tried to cover the Daedric brand below her neck with her hands.

It was a frightful, ugly thing that had been burned deep into her flesh after she had escaped Ra's clutches. It hurt to touch and Mordessa had tried her best to keep it covered at all times. A fellow denizen of Oblivion could perhaps sense it, she summarised. The cold air of the mountain reminded her of her lack of steel, the fur of her chest open to the elements.

She cursed her lack of armour, her lack of foresight, everything. Frustration began to grow within her, bleeding into her embarrassment and overtaking it. She gritted her teeth, and opened her eyes to see Nayan looking closely at the brand. Moments passed until he eventually leaned back on his haunches again. He seemed delighted.

"You have a brand, like me! I have it placed on my back. Now I see why Mother likes you - she likes broken mortals. Especially ones that are running from something they cannot change."

"What does that mean?"

Nayan arrogantly tousled his silver locks with one hand.

"Oh, please. Not just any mortal becomes the apprentice of an undead necromancer and witch, little Mordessa. Something must have attracted you to her dark arts...or maybe something worse chased you, all the way to the ends of this mountain."

Nayan leaned in close to Mordessa's face, his claws clutching at the fur around her brand. She stared into his eyes, anger welling up inside her. He was uncomfortably close. His breath was sweet-smelling, like stale fruit - Mordessa instantly recognised the odour as the one she had smelt for a moment at the bottom of the mountain. Nayan had been tracking her since she woke up - this was a game to him, and she was his prize.

He was enjoying this.

"Tainted forever, with no chance at redemption."

Mordessa hissed at him, her ears pinned back. Nayan saw the hatred and indignation in her eyes.

"You have no IDEA what I've been through! I have been to Oblivion and back, I have escaped things you couldn't...well, possibly could  imagine...and yet you dare to lecture me on being branded?!?"

The Khajiit was struggling widly now, threatening to throw Nayan off of her. No wonder Mother likes her, he thought. A tiny firebrand, this one. I like her, too.

"I did not ask for any of this to happen! I just wanted to live my life in peace! Undisturbed, with my closest friends! I just want to be a good and decent Khajiit and stay -"

"Pure?"

Mordessa stopped her rant, and seethed with rage. Nayan's face was twisted into a cruel smile.

"The only thing pure about you, little Mordessa, is -"

His tongue quickly licked the air, as if he was recalling something he had smelt before.

" - purely biological in function. Your flesh and soul belong to Oblivion, where it will be blackened and defiled for eternity. You reek of the dark, of the profane, of fire."

"NO! NO! NO! NO! I will never return there, ever! I am pure! You could never understand! You're not even human!"

"You're about as pure as I am, Mordessa! No Aedra would ever accept a tainted soul like yours!"

"At least I have a soul, you abomination! At least I have the choice! You think you can pretend, but you can't! I don't know how Tsajasuna made you, but you are evil and you are UGLY. I see through your front, Nayan! You are just as lost and conflicted as I am! But you know what? One day, I'll overcome this brand. I'll overcome Ra and you and everyone, and I'll learn all of Big Hats' secrets, and I'll become a great wizard and you'll be left behind! You'll be cold and alone because you Daedric scum are all the same! You're like marble, you can't change and you can't grow! You'll be left to rot and fester, just....just like I bet Tsajasuna left you to rot!"

Nayan was taken aback, but the Khajiit continued. His smile became a scowl.

"If Tsajasuna wanted to see you, she would've called for you but she DIDN'T! She didn't, did she? I bet you've been skulking around this mountain like a big gaudy RAT for months, haven't you? It must've killed you, knowing that I was free to enter and leave, but you weren't! Did it hurt, Nayan? Was it like a knife to the HEART?! That I am living with Tsajasuna, I am her apprentice and you aren't?!

There was silence. Mordessa gasped and heaved as her anger receded, her eyes locked with Nayan's. She had hit her mark with her words - if this thing was even Daedric in nature, she knew her slander would hurt its' pride. If she was going to die on the doorstep of her ally, she was going to go out fighting and screaming and kicking.

"I didn't survive the bandit camp to die to a....genderless freakish monstrosity here!"

Nayan was still, but his mind was ablaze with fury. Ugly? Rat?...Monstrosity? This little slut dared to call him these slurs? What had cut the deepest was the awful realization behind her barbed words - she was telling the truth. Everything she had said. Nayan knew it, of course, that Tsajasuna had disowned him and then turned him away, but wasn't his fault. It was the peoples' fault for not accepting him, for chasing them both for all those years. Why couldn't they just accept him? Why couldn't they just be as cattle? Hadn't he tried hard enough to fit in with them?

It wasn't his fault.

Mordessa silently watched the creatures's face contort into one of hate. Full of adrenaline as she was, Mordessa realised that her words had angered Nayan. A range of emotions ran across his face as he filtered her insults - then, it was gone. Nayan's stone-cold face looked down on the Khajiit, pale eyes writhing with anger, dots in his black eyes. His stare made Mordessa even more nervous.

Then she felt it. Like a Sabrecat pouncing for the neck of a deer, she felt fangs pierce her flesh. Nayan had fastened his jaws around her left shoulder, his cold claws grasping Mordessa's wrists. Blood pooled out from the wounds as he chewed through her flesh. Mordessa didn't feel anything at first - this nightmarish sight didn't feel real, it couldn't be real. Then the pain.

Mordessa had been bitten before. Some of her bites had been unpleasant - Vince could give a nasty nip if disturbed - but nothing compared to this. This was agony, and every tiny movement made her senses reel. The bite felt unbearably cold, as if she had been gouged by an Ice Atronach. The cold was spreading throughout her body.

Venom, she thought. His bite has venom. Just like her. Like his mother.

The crushing of the teeth hadn't stopped - they were cutting through the chunk of flesh. Fur, skin, flesh and muscle were all being ripped away from her. The thought of vomiting entered Mordessa's mind as the back of her head was bathed in a warm, wet feeling.

This...this is hurting me. This is...unbearable.

Mordessa screamed.

----

A sound.

Tsajasuna blinked in the darkness. One of her many senses had awoken her. Sound was not allowed in this space. She must have misheard.

There it was again. A sound. A cry. A scream of absolute agony.

It was the cry of one on the verge of death. Or worse.

Tsajasuna felt with the tendrils of her mind, the long arms touching all manner of things real and unreal. Movement was difficult in this space, but she could feel out from the centre. Like a spider reading the movements of a great web.

A mountain. A girl. A golem. A magic mist that concealed everything. Red water. Her mountain was bathed in it. The white moon glowed haughtily behind the mountain, having won. Like a great pallid eye.

A voice. An old crones' voice. Her voice.

He is killing her.

Tsajasuna closed her eyes in the gloom. She concentrated her magicka.

For the first time in millenia, she prayed. She prayed she wouldn't be too late.

---

Nayan clamped his jaw shut one final time, and pulled his head backwards. The sound of tearing muscle and popping tendons was music to his ears - and the taste of Mordessa's flesh was even better. No matter how many times he fed on the people of Nirn, every time was like the first time. He greedily devoured the chunk of flesh, the sinewy tongue and keen teeth making short work of it. Her lifeblood oozed from his mouth, and down his armour, dripping onto the now-dying Khajiits' belly. Mordessa had stopped screaming and lay quiet, her breathing shallow. Her wound was gushing blood, but what worried her more was the rot that was spreading throughout her body. Her gaze was fixed on what remained of her shoulder. She could see the edges of her flesh around the hole in her shoulder turning a putrid black.

I don't want to die rotten.

Nayan snarled victoriously, and lay on top of the Khajiits' faltering body. He brought his hand to Mordessa's head, and twisted it brutally to face him. He leaned close to her face. Even with her vision beginning to fade at the edges, Mordessa could see the unabated madness behind the creature's eyes. His voice was like that of some horrifying serpent.

"Mor...deh...sssssa..."

Mordessa stared balefully at the monster on top of her, her eyes glassy. This miscreation was the true face of Nayan, drawn out by the fury he felt at her words. Speech was difficult with the viscera and blood in his mouth, but Mordessa wondered if speech was something those lips were ever meant to learn. Nayan donned a maniacal grin, the white of his skin and teeth now a deep crimson.

"I may not be...a true man...like you say, but I am...enough of a man to...strip you of your purity."

Mordessa felt his thighs tighten around her, his left hand grab her left calf, and pull her towards him. His claws stroked the fur on her leg, creeping upwards, following the curves of her figure. Her body was now completely under his. He leaned down further, almost whispering in the Khajiits' ear.

"No one can hear us...inside my Illusory mist. We're...all alone. Maybe there is...enough time before you die, hmmm?"

Oh gods.

Oh gods.

I am going to die on these steps. I am going to die as a plaything to this abhorrent disgusting creature. Jo'Sien. Veit. Osborn. Cries. Tsajasuna. I hope they don't find me here later. I hope I just disappear. Please, please just let me die. Anyone.

Mordessa choked on tears and blood in anguish, as her body shivered. Even the tiniest, most personal part of herself was to be destroyed by this world. She hoped the poison would dull the pain.

Yet nothing happened.

Mordessa felt nothing press against her. No clothing but her ragged scarf lay on the wood beside her, even as it slowly became dyed in her blood. Her vision swam back into view for a moment, and she saw Nayan. He was suspended in the air in front of her, seemingly immobilised. There was something else. The mark. The mark on his lip she had seen earlier.

It was glowing a vivid green, so vivid Mordessa could see it through the gore on Nayan's face. The green colour was a strangely familiar tone. Then she heard footsteps. Footsteps which immediately calmed her.

Clip. Clop. Clip. Clop.

I know those sounds. I know those gaudy heels only too well.

---

When she was younger, Tsajasuna had created the abomination known as Nayan in a fit of terrible inspiration. Tricking and trapping the Daedric Prince Namira in order to help the Khajiit witch fulfill her ambition for but a few moments, Tsajasuna had created a golem with the qualities of both parents. Nayan inherited the neverending hunger and evil of the Prince of Revulsion and the resilience of the undead Great White Witch, as well as her talent for magic. Unfortunately, the mind and body of the construct were warped from the nature of its birth and from having no soul to speak of. It was quickly that Tsajasuna took great pride in her work, her masterpiece, but the long-term effects of Nayan's creation took root after only a few years.

Nayan was proving difficult to control.

For Nayan was not created in love and birthed in the natural way. He had been created with no blessing from Aetherius, was not born under a star and was not born from a natural love. Nayan had been born from blasphemy and coercion and the blackest of magic. Nayan was not blessed with a heartbeart or a soul or life - he was created with unlife, and what shaped his form was the crawling black putrescence of Namira and the dual-gendered ivory skin Tsajasuna had wrapped him in. And like most creatures who would never know death, Nayan craved the warmth of life. Again and again, the two of them were chased from settlements and cities all over Tamriel. Again and again, Nayan would be unable to control his urges and devour some noble's heir in their manor, or even some lowly harlot in the city square. Tsajasuna had to come up with a fail-safe for her wayward progeny, to keep him under control at critical junctures.

After years of research into the magical nature of runes, Tsajasuna created a subjugation rune, simply christened "Subjugation". This rune, wholly known only to her and Nayan, would prove fruitful in their remaining years together. However, it would need to be seared into the flesh of those it would be used by and those it would be used on. Inscribing the rune into a bony finger on herself was effortless - if uncomfortable - but Nayan was another matter. She would need to lure him to an altar in the image of Namira, trap him using magic, and then mark the rune somewhere on his body. Prey was procured from a local village and then placed in an appropriate cave, one that was deep underground and situated away from where any kind of interruption would occur. Nayan was easily lured to such a place, and gorged himself on the victim Tsajasuna had cruelly taken. Now at his most docile, Tsajasuna trapped the creature easily and quickly inscribed the rune where it would respond to her call the quickest. The rune - after many bites and scratches - was finally carved onto Nayan's bottom lip, where it would stay forever.

For once, Tsajasuna was grateful for her foresight, all those years ago.

---

Nayan felt like his face was about to crack open. He despised that stupid mark Tsajasuna had tattooed him with, years ago. It was ugly and he hated it. Painting over it with any kind of colour made it hum uncomfortably, and make-up came off so easily with the blood and viscera constantly splattered on his features. In the end, he had just accepted it. It became a painful reminder of what would happen when disobeying Tsajasuna...or when trying to outsmart her, and again, she had outsmarted him. Like she did every single time.

"How did she see through my Illusion? I chose daytime specifically so she wouldn't be awake." Now it was time for Nayan's mind to race, as feeble as it was. "The mist silences any sound made within it, so why...?"

A jolt of what felt like lightning raced through his body as he hung in the air, subjugated by the rune. His eyes had also taken on a greenish hue, and his vision was becoming stifled as the runes inscribed on his eyes worked against him. Runes that would never fade. Runes that were a constant reminder of the old witches' complete ownership of everything he was.

"Stupid magic! I suppose I'll never be as clever as She. Still, it was worth it." The tang of Khajiit flesh and blood lingered on his lips, as he remembered Mordessa. Surely she was dead, either through shock or his rotting venom. Although another part of him wished she wasn't. She would make a nice pet.

"A shame I couldn't have all of her."

A figure loomed in front of him with a great wide-brimmed hat atop its head. A figure Nayan knew all too well.

---

Tsajasuna walked slowly past Mordessa, holding out her inscribed hand. The Mark of Subjugation upon her finger burned painfully, and even the much-lessened rays of the sun were surely damaging her delicate fur through the fog. She didn't care, however.

This was her fault. Nayan was her mistake, and Mordessa was her apprentice.

Mordessa looked weakly up at the old witch, and saw something incredible.

A lone tear trailing from under the hat, glinting in the glow of green magics, and a lone sentence that rang in Mordessa's mind.

"I am sorry."

Tsajasuna looked up from Mordessa, and walked closer to the dangling body of her creation, Nayan. Even when suspended and completely immobilised by her magic, she could still see the whisper of a crooked smile on his dainty face. His eyes were looking at her, even though the runes written in his eyes would have blinded him by now. She felt her magicka on his body shift slightly, as he tried to speak. However, Tsajasuna was not interested in what Nayan had to say for himself this time. She would not be interested in anything he had to say for a long time to come.

"Nayan."

She felt her magicka shift again, as the emotions of the homunculus surged. A mixture of fear and love and jealousy, and the intense longing he felt for Mordessa - a dark, obsessive craving. The instinctual need he felt to be with Tsajasuna again, to learn from her and live with her, and the hope he held that maybe Tsajasuna would grant that wish.

The witches' skin crawled with disgust.

She looked upon his face with scorn.

"You are...such a disappointment."

She flung him off the ramparts of the mountain and into the depths of the mist. The mixture of shock and hurt on Nayan's face was not an expression Tsajasuna would ever forget. Not that she would look upon that porcelain visage for a long while.

Quickly, she turned around. The mist would now part very quickly, and both her and her novice witch would not survive much longer bathed in the rays of the sun. She stooped low, and very gently, she cradled the frail body of Mordessa. The novice turned her eyes to Tsajasuna, but the old witch knew the rot of Nayan had to be expunged quickly - her eyes had already taken on the tell-tale milky white hue his venom instilled in his prey. Tsajasuna concentrated her magicka once more, and teleported into the house at the top of the mountain. She would have to work quickly and diligently if Mordessa was to survive this terrible ordeal.

---

Silence.

Nayan's eyes darted open, the black orbs severely contrasting against the vista he found himself in. Everything around him was white. He leaned upwards, cradling his head with his hands. What had just happened? Where was he? A vast snowy plain stretched out around him, featureless. The sky was heavy with falling snow. Wherever he was, he was far away from the sprawling valleys of The Reach. Was he even in Skyrim anymore?

His tongue darted out to taste the air, and a lone snowflake fell upon it.

I can't feel anything. Everything is cold and tastes cold.

The runes. They were burning. His lip ached, the glow of Tsajasuna's dominion not yet faded. His vision was truly stifled - the snow and sky made everything a dull grey blur, but the brands on his eyes rendered him almost blind for the time being.

Nayan looked at his body and was horrified - even semi-blind, he expected to see the usual black he adorned himself in, but all he saw was white. The embrace of Ebony had left his body. All his jewels and rings and baubles were gone. His armour and furs were gone. His shoes were gone. All that remained were his breeches, stained with Mordessa's blood. His feet, arms and breasts were completely bare. His skin was almost the same colour as the snow he lay upon. Strangely, he felt something deep inside him - was this "embarrassment"? He remembered Tsajasuna chiding him for not wearing clothes when he was freshly created.

Bandits? Perhaps. No, people travelling had simply thought me dead. I've been stripped of my belongings.

He bared his teeth in frustration, and buried his head in his hands. Defeated, he slumped back down onto the freezing snow. He noticed the tell-tale signs of footprints around him, smelt the tang of people and their boots. A tear trickled down his cheek and sunk into the cold ground. The frustration gave way to despair. Sadness began to well within him.

No, no. It's fine. I'll just find them and kill them. I want my things. I want what is mine. It's fine. It's an excuse to kill.

I want what is mine.

He closed his eyes again and saw Mordessa's face, a seductive look in her eyes as she lay below him on the wooden rampart, rags barely covering her chest and thighs. He remembered the warmth of her body, so close to his. He saw Tsajasuna, her eyes gleaming with fury and hatred, as she cast him from the mountain - not the eyes she had looked upon him with all those years ago. Her emotions had been clear when she said those words to him. Words filled with utter disgust.

A disappointment.

Emotion overwhelmed him. A single word repeated again and again in his head.

Why.

Why. Why. Why. Why. Why. Why. Why. Why. Why. Why. Why. Why.

Nayan wept uncontrollably as the snow fell upon him.