Post by Coulson pike . on Nov 16, 2012 19:00:40 GMT -8
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WE MUST LOOK TO FIND ANOTHER WAY TO
- - - - THAT KIND-HEARTED LIGHT
”Excuse me.”
The man at the counter of the Sleeping Giant Inn looked up from his conversation long enough to take Cole in for a few seconds, before he shifted his elbows out from in front of the group of Nords he spoke to and in front of the speaker. ”Evenin’, Breton. What can I get you?” Unfolding the piece of parchment in his hands, Cole shook his head and peered down at it to read the name written down for him by Elmira. ”I don’t need anything, but I was wondering if a Veissalyn Wintervoss came in and asked for Coulson.” After a few seconds of pondering and muttering the names to himself, the man shrugged. ”Can’t help you there. Don’t think I’ve had anyone by that name, and I’d remember it.” Well, Cole definitely couldn’t argue with that fact. Obviously, being a Breton himself, he was used to Breton names (meaning Veissalyn was Breton) and it rolled off of his tongue easily. The Nords, with their harsh names, stumbled all over the smooth syllables of Breton names at times. He pushed the note across the bar to the man. ”If she does come in, send her my way.” The barman agreed to, and Cole, feeling as if he was loitering if he didn’t buy a drink, asked for a mead before pulling away and making his way to an isolated seat on the side of the hearth, facing the door. Elmira had provided him with the general appearance of the fellow Breton he was to meet here in Riverwood, so chances were that Cole would recognize her right when she walked in. There was no surplus of Bretons in this little mill town, after all.
Cole took a burning sip of his mead. He was taking a lot of what Elmira had convinced him of during their encounter for granted by simply being in Riverwood. Her facts were arranged nicely, at least, and as a student of history Cole had spent his couple of days in Solitude before receiving her note in looking up information on the Blades. He, however, saw no reason for her to believe that the Blades existed anymore. She’d be given a few points for pursuing them, though…and for getting Cole, and apparently this Veissalyn character, to join her in the pursuit. His face fell into his hands long enough for him to wipe his disbelief at himself from out of his eyes. Taking the word of a woman who shows up in camps to ask for food for no particular reason and ending up in the middle of Skyrim to meet a strange woman from Windhelm – Cole being the type of man he was, flowing freely from place to place, it wasn’t an absurdity that he would make the trip to Riverwood out of pure curiosity. Curiosity, after all, was what had gotten him into proximity of the only elder scroll that he’d ever seen in his life…and while that incident had gone horribly awry, he didn’t regret it. What stood in absurdity was the fact that Cole trusted the fact that Elmira and the woman from Windhelm had his best interests in mind. Well…Cole couldn’t quite be considered “trusting” yet, but he didn’t exactly have his crossbow in his lap ready to fire in case Veissalyn opened the door only to spout a fireball at his face.
…With an inn-full of people, such an action dwelt within the realm of the highly unlikely, but Cole could sit and wonder over his mead, staring at the door every time it opened and a random Nord or elf would come in. No female Breton as of yet.
The man at the counter of the Sleeping Giant Inn looked up from his conversation long enough to take Cole in for a few seconds, before he shifted his elbows out from in front of the group of Nords he spoke to and in front of the speaker. ”Evenin’, Breton. What can I get you?” Unfolding the piece of parchment in his hands, Cole shook his head and peered down at it to read the name written down for him by Elmira. ”I don’t need anything, but I was wondering if a Veissalyn Wintervoss came in and asked for Coulson.” After a few seconds of pondering and muttering the names to himself, the man shrugged. ”Can’t help you there. Don’t think I’ve had anyone by that name, and I’d remember it.” Well, Cole definitely couldn’t argue with that fact. Obviously, being a Breton himself, he was used to Breton names (meaning Veissalyn was Breton) and it rolled off of his tongue easily. The Nords, with their harsh names, stumbled all over the smooth syllables of Breton names at times. He pushed the note across the bar to the man. ”If she does come in, send her my way.” The barman agreed to, and Cole, feeling as if he was loitering if he didn’t buy a drink, asked for a mead before pulling away and making his way to an isolated seat on the side of the hearth, facing the door. Elmira had provided him with the general appearance of the fellow Breton he was to meet here in Riverwood, so chances were that Cole would recognize her right when she walked in. There was no surplus of Bretons in this little mill town, after all.
Cole took a burning sip of his mead. He was taking a lot of what Elmira had convinced him of during their encounter for granted by simply being in Riverwood. Her facts were arranged nicely, at least, and as a student of history Cole had spent his couple of days in Solitude before receiving her note in looking up information on the Blades. He, however, saw no reason for her to believe that the Blades existed anymore. She’d be given a few points for pursuing them, though…and for getting Cole, and apparently this Veissalyn character, to join her in the pursuit. His face fell into his hands long enough for him to wipe his disbelief at himself from out of his eyes. Taking the word of a woman who shows up in camps to ask for food for no particular reason and ending up in the middle of Skyrim to meet a strange woman from Windhelm – Cole being the type of man he was, flowing freely from place to place, it wasn’t an absurdity that he would make the trip to Riverwood out of pure curiosity. Curiosity, after all, was what had gotten him into proximity of the only elder scroll that he’d ever seen in his life…and while that incident had gone horribly awry, he didn’t regret it. What stood in absurdity was the fact that Cole trusted the fact that Elmira and the woman from Windhelm had his best interests in mind. Well…Cole couldn’t quite be considered “trusting” yet, but he didn’t exactly have his crossbow in his lap ready to fire in case Veissalyn opened the door only to spout a fireball at his face.
…With an inn-full of people, such an action dwelt within the realm of the highly unlikely, but Cole could sit and wonder over his mead, staring at the door every time it opened and a random Nord or elf would come in. No female Breton as of yet.
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