Rained In (Tres)

[Ande]

Ande wondered if his entrance appeared dramatic. As soon as he'd opened to door to the inn, lightning had flashed behind him and thunder had boomed over-head. He'd looked over his shoulder at the torrential downpour, wondering if the large pond in the middle of Morthal would overflow.

That lightning had struck almost directly overhead, which meant staying outside without shelter would be far too dangerous tonight. He was supposed to be on his way back to the College in Winterhold, but the extreme storm conditions had caused him to turn back and take a detour to Morthal. Hopefully it would only last the night.

The door was closed as the direction of wind changed, Ande wishing to stop any more rain from being blown inside. He wiped at his wet hood but did not remove it as he stepped inside, wiping at the more wet cloth of his robes as well before giving up and walking to the inn keeper,

"A room. And dinner please." he requested, offering a friendly smile as he pulled out the Septims to pay for his request. His smile curbed a little at the stony look given by the inn keeper, but his money was accepted and a key was given to him before the man disappeared down the stairs to cook. Morthal wasn't exactly fond of Mages... or Elves.

[Tres Luperica]

Tres yanked his dagger free from the frostspider's back with a complacent smirk on his face. He hadn't been in Skyrim long, but he figured what better way to make some quick Septims then raiding ruins? That and killing bandits who had already wrecked some caravans. Ah yes.... should have seen the look on their faces when a werewolf came rampaging through their camp in the middle of the night, simply glorious!

(We're lost.)

“No were not my Queen, I know exactly where we are!”

(And that is?)

“In a marsh.”

(Brilliant.)

To other it seemed that Tres was talking to himself, and well... he was, but those voices existed in his head! Yes they were there! Tres wiped spider blood off his dagger onto that dark gray cloak and then placed it back into the sheath strapped horizontally across his lower back. He could see the storm quickly approaching, he'd been able to smell it for hours and he was sure it was close. Thunder boomed overhead and lightning flashed, it was going to be a big one. There was a town close by he could remember that from the last time he was in Skyrim... about 40 years ago. Morthal... yes, that was it! It wasn't far now. His body moved forward in a light jog, ever vigilant. The storm would make it hard to smell if anything was ahead of him and his sight although sharp at night would be at a disadvantage in a downpour. And then it came... like the skies opened up to piss on him.

“Lovely... just what I need.”

The pace was increased and as he topped the next rise he could see Morthal's torches flickering. So close! Tres' agile body sprinted across the terrain somehow miraculously managing not to injure himself in doing so and in a few more moments he was jogging across the bridge to Morthal. Ahh... it would be nice to not have to sleep outside tonight! A guard eyed him warily as he neared, fingers touching the hilt of his weapon.

“Ho there! Where can a weary traveler find a bed and some hot food?”

“The Moorside Inn... right over there. Make sure you stay out of trouble here traveler.”

“Oh, I plan too!”

(Idiot.)

“You said it...”

The guard who's hand was still pointing in the direction of inn glanced at him again, obviously wondering what that last statement was about, but Tres was on his way with a pleasant smile. The Inn wasn't far and soon those doors would swing open to admit the Dunmer. He had decided not to wear his armor in public, figuring that it wouldn't be wise to go strutting around in Dark Brotherhood attire, instead plain clothes, a dark grey cloak which now looked black due to the rain, and a sturdy pair of mud splattered leather boots. His daggers were of course strapped to his person under his cloak as was his traveling bag. Eyes swiveled to regard the new patron and he would offer a nod, before pushing back the hood of his cloak to reveal obvious Dunmer features. His medium length platinum hair had been fashioned into braids and were tied bad with a piece of crimson cloth, which he quickly reached up untie and let them loose, shaking his head vigorously to disperse the water that had soaked through his hood. Those eyes lingered on him and Tres did the only thing he could think of, smile. There was a low growl of laughter in his head, signaling the amusement of the Red Wolf, while a sigh came from the Queen...

(Idiot.)

[Ande]

Ande ran a hand through his shorter, swept back hair, feeling water trail down his back as a result of it getting squeezed out from his hair. The door opening once again caused everyone to turn at least a little, mostly due to how loud the storm outside was. The Altmer blinked and smiled in return before turning back to the counter and realizing that he really didn't have anything more to do. So he shifted away from it and walked toward one of the long tables to take a seat and continue ringing water out of his hair and damp clothing.

He kept his head down while he was here, but his eye did trail back to the Dunmer as someone he could possibly talk with. Not that he would impose at all. But it was likely they'd get to talking before they turned in for the night.

The Mage claimed a seat before turning to the fire and trying to spread his wet clothes out. He didn't want to just take his robes off out here, so he settled with staying close to the source of warmth that he couldn't very well feel.

It was a few minutes before he glanced back at the Dunmer, and finally initiated conversation with a warm smile. He could be welcoming if it was called upon,

"Where are you headed?"