Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-24449631-20140901211815/@comment-3293219-20140903131447

Nadira awoke on a similar style bed to the one that Emarrel had slept on the night before, a stretcher, with some straw and padding on it, the straw was kind of itchy but she had slept in a barn before and it wasn't anywhere near as bad as that. She slowly sat up, yawning as she did so and immediately checking her arrow wound, thanks to those healers at the temple, it looked ancient, like it had always been there. Nadira was rather indifferent about scars, she wasn't exactly squeemish, so long as her injuries weren't too serious.

She pulled her clothes back over her shoulder and stood up, examining her 'room,' which was more of a cage. It looks like fights used to take place here. Dogfights? Cage fights? Or maybe that chief used to transform in here or maybe it was some strange combination of the three. Either way, it now served as Nadira's bed chamber, somehow it made her feel safer, sleeping in a cage, knowing that nobody could get in to harm her as she had the key.

The Breton slowly stepped out of the cage, not noticing that someone was stood beside her, hiding in the sadows. Only his legs and one of his elbows, which was jutting out of his folded arms, were visible.

"Mornin'... How's the wound?" Azarath asked, slowly stepping out of the dark and approaching her, his red eyes almost glowed as his face came into the light.

Nadira froze on the spot, gently scratching at her arm as she stared at him, somewhat put out at the fact that he had been hiding and observing her.

"How long were you stood there?"

"Not long, I was lootin' that office thing and you started stirring... So, how is it?"

"Erm... Fine, doesn't hurt anymore, it's fully healed from the looks of it." Nadira replied, with a shrug, giving him a bit of a smile as she started to relax.

"So... How's everyone else?" The Breton asked, suddenly remembering Em's episode and Rowan's dilemma, however, her question was cut off as Azarath had more pressing matters.

"Kid... I've been thinking about us, about what we're doin' and somethin' occured to me."

"Erm... Okay?"

"If anyone goes looking for us, they know what we look like, they know our hair colours and the way that we shape it. If we want to throw the trail, we're going to have to change that. Do something to our hair, to confuse them." The Dunmer explained, folding his arms and glacingin around before drawing a pair of scissors.

"So... You want to cut my hair!? Now!?"

"Now's the best time, yeah... We'll make our hair shorter and I'll shave my beard, might keep the tache..."

"What if I don't want to be bald?" Nadira asked, indignantly, folding her arms and narrowing her eyes, she wouldn't trust Azarath with anything as delicate as pruning. Hell, she wouldn't even trust him to cut her toe nails as he'd probably amputate her foot.

"You won't be bald, just tell me how short you want it and I'll make it so."

The Breton paused to think on it, she looked more than a little troubled over the idea...

"And you promise that you'll be careful?"

"I promise."

"And you'll stop if I tell you to?"

"Of course..."

"And..."

"Nad?"

"Yeah?"

"Just sit down and let me do this before I have to subdue you..." The Dunmer sighed, all these questions were starting to annoy him. Nadira didn't want to piss him off before he went near her head, with a sharp object, so she complied and knelt down. The Dunmer stood behind her and drew a comb from his other pocket, both of which he had found in the fort, though he wasn't going to let her know that.

Especially when he found them in the dog kennel...

-

Namira emerged from the keep, some time after, her hair was a lot shorter. She kept her fringe and she had it parted, making it look quite elegant. It turned out quite well for her, if she was honest but she wouldn't admit that to Azarath.