Yarti/Snake/Cuo - An Arrival

Powder, like flour tossed upon a cutting board before the dough or sugar sprinkled atop an under-sweetened cake, it glided down from the heavens and danced betwixt us in what little breadth we gave it. As it was in these days, our nest free and with little ones becoming big ones with things of their own to do, Snake and I returned to our old ways. Hands clasped, we would go wherever the mood carried us, leaves on the wind bound by a bit of leftover vine. I found comfort in Snake and being able to accompany him at all times, but their absence was difficult. Fannah had but recently left home to follow Mara. She had taken her belongings, along with some of Fanar's, and sought carriage down to Riften to enlist in the temple. It was to be her calling and I was more proud of her than you could ever imagine. While her sights were set, Fanar, of age to be called a man in these lands, walked a more aimless road. He had found trade in monster hunting and simple work and seemed to enjoy his newfound freedom. He had found his bravery and took to it like a true Nord. He would visit often, as often as our travels would allow anyway. Our times at home would often synchronize and I am sure that he appreciated home-cooked meals as he was not likely to find anything comparable out there. He was a troubled young man, quiet, though he always was. He was happy to be with us, that much was certain, but his yearning was most obvious. His thoughts lied elsewhere. It seemed that something gnawed at him and no technique in the mother's skill book could pry his worries from him. I suppose Snake is the same way, though easier to discern. Marriage and fatherhood work wonders for it. I wished that Fanar could follow like-wise someday. But alas, there is naught but tramp and slattern as far as the eye can see. And that is here in Skyrim, I can only imagine the state of young women in the East. Utterly vile. There is none good enough for him and I fear he may walk his path alone. But I have spent enough ink on preface as it is, their stories are just beginning and should be recorded by their hands, not mine. Snake and I, we found ourselves in Dawnstar on that particular morning. Just a day-about-town as it were, until a blizzard had other plans. It swelled to block out the sun and hide everything beyond arm's reach. We stumbled blind until we found quite the comfortable deck and shade from harsher winds. A brief home-away-from-home, though biting cold, made perfect for a romantic evening behind veil of snow.

By midday, the storm had passed. We took it as a sign to move on and disappeared off into the wilderness hand-in-hand. Through thicket and woods, past ponds and farms. Morning mists and evening showers, nights devoid of light, naught but the skies above or that of my palms to light our way. Fumbling maps and fumbling forms in all variety of scenery, until we arrived at what would be the most interesting stop of this vacation. Descending a dreadfully cold hill as another snowstorm approached from the West, we came across the lonely silhouette of a Dwemer ruin nestled along the edge of the cliff below. Centuries of snow held tight to the exposed metal as I to Snake.

Once inside we made quick work of it, scouting out the sprawling chambers and clearing automatons and traps. Once deemed safe, Snake knelt in the center of a forgotten bedroom to catch his breath, and I behind him with a face quick to flush. I spied his brow lift, and with it, a brass bed and fur sheets beckoned. And so we made home of that place until the coming morning.

A pipe burst in an adjacent chamber in the middle of the night. We were busy and took little note of it until we were making our way out. The hiss of steam brought attention to what was normally a barren and quite uninteresting room. In the center lie a platform of sorts, adorned with a blue crest, but aside from that, the room seemingly served no purpose. We had a conversation about it. It was a curious thing, the crest in particular was not a common sight in these sorts of ruins. Concluding that it was a podium for gatherings or something else just as mundane, we continued on our way.

As soon as our backs were turned, the chamber bellowed and a blue light rose from the platform. With the light came blistering heat and the room drew muggy. The warmth of a summer day and a scent of smoke poured through the beam. The light folded and opened like a book and from it's center came a head, hands, shoulders, a chest then knees. A figure clad in brass stumbled into existence. Weak legged, it squatted and heaved. The light snapped shut behind it and it rose, clutching at it's head. Twisting and pulling, it writhed and pulled off it's helmet. From beneath, a young Mer with eyes of sapphire. She looked to us and us to her, her eyes at last meeting those of Snake. Instinctively, my palms pulsed, rising to greet her as I put myself between them.

"None of that now, Yarti." Snake whispered, stepping past me.

The young girl peered on with an ill and perplexed expression. The arm holding her helmet fell limp and a sudden light beamed out from the midst of her neckpiece, scrawling out Dwemer letting into the very air. With the lettering came an otherworldly voice, speaking words unknown to me, though her mouth moved not. Once it had finished, she looked to us as though we were to respond.

"Huh?" I questioned, again putting myself between the two.

She wrung her hands, looking more sickly by the moment. Another series of words manifested before her and a voice to accompany them. She took a step then crumpled over. Another step, and down she came. Snake and I leapt to catch her but she slammed into me, throwing us both to the floor. From atop me she wobbled to her feet and I took her by the shoulder.

"I think you need to lie down for moment." As soon as I touched her, the neckpiece began again. Frantically spewing letters and words, a cacophony and racket. As the voice called out in an ever-more distorted tone, she began to weep and comply with my urging. The poor girl was just as confused as we were. Snake took one shoulder and I the other and we lead her to the bedrooms from whence we came. We laid her down and I helped her out of her armor. Beneath it she wore a simple top and bottoms, sewn of a silk I did not recognize. After many tears and much noise from her neckpiece, she grew quiet and found sleep.

We let her be for quite some time then set about for the long trip home with her in tow. She trailed behind me like a duckling, rarely lifting her head skyward. She was addled and would need much time to recover. Back at home, Snake went out to town to replenish our supplies as I tended to dinner. I showed her the bed downstairs and tried to signify that it was hers. She immediately fell asleep and was out cold until evening. She ate as though she were starved near to death, despite the brief meals I had prepared on the road. Over the next week, as it all unfolded, we came to some conclusions. She was Dwemer, though we knew not how she came to be among us. She was mute, and the box about her neck communicated in her stead. It would project Dwemer lettering and speak whenever a particularly strong thought crossed her mind, not necessarily when she wished to speak it. I could think of many a situation where such a thing could lead to embarrassment, but any option to speak is better than none, I supposed. Thirdly, that she had a sweet tooth and found sugar to be worth it's weight in gold. On the second day at home, I gave her a sweetroll. She held it aloft and stared at it, taking small nibbles at first. To her, a spectacle and rarity. She devoured it then wrapped her arms around me, eyes beaming, presumably asking for another. I had no other to give, much to her disappointment, but it seemed to do little to dampen our budding friendship. We tried out best to understand her and help her to understand us. At times it was easy, she was quick to learn words and attempt to use them, though her device struggled to speak languages other than her own. She would not leave the house unaccompanied, being outside scared her. It was as though she had never seen a blue sky or fields of grass, they were as alien to her as she was to us. Snake dove into his old library in search of any and all documentation on Dwemer and before long, we were able to figure out her name. Cuolenya. A common name it seemed. She pointed to it in a book. She offered no last name that we could tell and was obviously confused that Snakestone was his name and also attached to my name. She would shake her head and her device would fire off a barrage of words and sounds any time we came to such a subject. She sat about tinkering with her neckpiece for hours on end and would often request books, which she would hold before it and flip through the pages. I am unsure if she even understands what a book is.

One day she awoke and came upstairs to greet us just before breakfast. It seemed she had found the tunic I had finished the night before. It suited her well. Out from the box sprang those Dwemer letters, but instead of the otherworldly voice that we had grown accustomed to, from the depths of her device came words in our tongue. An unnatural accent, but at last, words known to us. Above the chattering box, a smile crept across her face, ear to ear. Seemingly pleased to hear the success of her tinkering.

"My name. It is pronounced ""Quo Len E Uh"" but you may call me Cuo."