Aevelynne

I met her outside the Great Chapel of Julianos at dawn, the last day of Second Seed. She wore an odd smile on her face as she surveyed the cemetary, the first rays of sun glistening in her red eyes and copper-coloured hair. She told me I smelled wonderful. I told her of the impossibility; that my dress was stained with death. She would only smile. We spoke for many hours that day. An inquiry about my profession had me say that I worked a lot with dead people - a lie, technically. Once they were dead they were no longer of my concern, but the subject of death seemed to fascinate her and a part of me wanted to keep her interested, this Dunmer