drawsblood | { psl for amelioratings }

{ psl for amelioratings }

Dead Man's Drink was meant to be a joke about Falkreath's large graveyard that happens to be its claim to fame, but Joric sees it as appropriate for the current atmosphere too. The tavern is dead, with only one other patron keeping to themselves at another table. He doesn't need a lively atmosphere, but it helps keep attention off himself if others are too wrapped up in their merrymaking to take notice of him. As it is, the barmaid's eyes are on him as she pretends to wipe down a nearby table and the innkeeper is leaning on the bar, his eyes passing between Joric and the guy in the corner who is close to passing out. It's not an ideal situation, but as long as neither bother him, things will be fine.

Briefly, he moves a hand to the leather pouch attached to his belt and reaches inside. There are several small potion bottles inside and it's become an obsession of his to check that they're still there. The little vials of liquid are all that can hold back his rage these days and he can't go without. He doesn't need them now, but if the barmaid gets chatty or the drunk starts yelling at him, he may need to knock one back to stop the rage from building.

He stares down into his drink, wondering where he might find work here. The innkeeper mentioned they might need a hand down at the mill, and that seems like his best bet for now. He only needs a little gold to ensure he'll have supplies as he moves on, looking for someone wise enough in magic to rid him of this evil spell on his mind. If he starts to think on it again, it will lead him down a dark path, so he does his best to focus on his drink instead. He hasn't bothered renting a room for the night yet — though he highly doubts there'll be a rush — and keeps his pack under the table at his feet. There's mud caked on his boots and dust from the road clinging to his pants. He looks like he's traveled a ways, and that's true. He's been exploring the south west part of Skyrim for months now in hopes of a cure, but he thinks maybe it's time to move on. Everywhere he goes to ask about a clever woman, hedge witch, or any other term that might set him on the right path, he's simply directed to the College of Winterhold instead, and since it was those fools who did this to him in the first place before the Nord troops left to fight in Cyrodiil, he knows they aren't the answer. He's already been back there once to demand they reverse their spell, to no avail. Idiots; all of them. All they knew were their stupid books and theories. They didn't know what they were doing, so he needed someone worldly; not someone who stayed locked behind stone walls sneezing into dusty tomes.

The barmaid approaches and he glances up to speak before she can. "Still working on this pint. I'll let you know when I need a refill." Then he lowers his head to stop anymore conversation. There was a time he would happily flirt with any barmaid in his sight. He'd tell her stories of his time in the army, of silly antics he'd done, and if it ended up with her in his bed at the end of the night, all the better. Now he simply wants to be left alone before he accidentally lashes out at someone.

The door to the tavern opens and he hopes the newcomer distracts the barmaid for him. He'd rather be left alone to drink and forget who he is for awhile.

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She figured that it was best to just get straight to the point. She wasn't the type to flirt, bat her eyes, or anything like that to get what she wanted. Perhaps it was because she'd been raised by her father and hadn't had the gentle hand of a mother. She'd had nursemaid's but they could never take her mother's place.

"Perhaps not as much as some." She'd traveled with her father before, plenty of times. But this was a different sort of traveling and truly, she didn't want anyone she knew knowing about why she was taking this journey. People talked and she knew that it might get to the wrong ears.

"Why do you ask?"

Speaking of flirts, the barmaid returns with Dina's drink, setting it before her and smiling expectantly at Joric.

"Ah," he acknowledges, picking up his tankard. "Not yet." She droops a little and meanders away once more while he takes a sip, debating how to answer her question. He's an honest man and he figures it won't do her any good to not bring it up.

"I could tell because you haven't considered who you're asking might not be trustworthy. You don't even know my name yet, and no one in this town knows who I am. Your virtue could be in danger out in the wilds with me." He gestures at her vaguely with his drink. "It's not in danger, but how would you know either way? Believe me, I can act as bodyguard better than most. I was a soldier and I'm always on my guard, but you need to be careful with these sorts of things." He's come across bodies in his travels. From their clothes and equipment, they were mostly hunters, but there were some well dressed bodies too, most likely besieged by bandits. He knows what he's talking about.

Dina just barely suppressed an annoyed roll of her eyes. She could not stand women like the barmaid... Which was probably why she hadn't had many female friends growing up. But, she supposed, the barmaid had to make a living, and flirting might have been part of it.

Her attention snaps back to the man, and her lips pull down into a scowl. He was lecturing her? She could feel her cheeks beginning flush - not from embarrassment but rather from anger.

"Firstly, do not talk to me as though I am nothing more than a child. I am well aware that I don't know you. It's precisely why I approached you. Secondly, if you try to compromise my virtue in any way, you won't have the ability to compromise anyone else's."

Precisely why she approached him? Now that was interesting. And unexpected. He sets down his drink and looks her over once more. She doesn't have the physique of the women he fought alongside in the army, which could only mean one thing. Well, there could be a few things, but the one that was most likely...

"So you're a mage." Great. Of course he's looking for one with great power, but his kneejerk reaction to them is that they have the intelligence of a cow that keeps running into a fence.

He crosses his arms on the table and tilts his head at her.

"Then why do you have need of a bodyguard, and why do you want one you don't know?"

"I am no mage," Dina responds. At least she didn't think herself as one. When she thought of a mage, she thought about fireballs and bolts of lightning. "I am a healer, that is all."

But she did know how to use a knife and she wouldn't have a problem using it against anyone who tried anything with her.

She rounds her shoulders. "I am actually in search of a mage. I need... I need help with a problem my father is having." She doesn't bother to answer that last bit because, well, it's truly none of his business. But, if he was smart, she was sure he'd figure that out on his own.

"Magical healing," he replies, feeling that stupid bit of hope crop up like it always did when he had a lead that someone could cure him. Of course he wants to test it, because it's not as though he hasn't been experimented on already. He's used to the touch of magic on him, loathe as he is to feel it.

Sighing, he pauses to scratch at his beard a moment in thought. So now he knows why she needs the bodyguard, and she's confident she could get the drop on him if she had to (not too likely, but he won't bother wounding her pride). That still doesn't explain why this arrangement had to be with a stranger. He could come up with theories — maybe something to do with her father's condition — but that's a waste of time.

"As it turns out, I happen to be looking for a mage myself. One not trained by the College. I need a special kind of healing." Now here's the part where he has to decide how much he's going to tell her. The reason he's been alone for so long is he fears losing control. Fears the monster taking over and causing him to black out while it rips through everyone in front of him. He doesn't want to risk it, and ordinarily he wouldn't, but since she's a healer... this could work.

"I'm not sure you can cure me. I would gladly do the job for free if you could, but if you could at least heal me along the way when I need it—" Not if, but when. "Then I'm available for hire."

"I suppose," Dina replied cautiously. She still didn't think of it as magic. It just was. It was something she's been able to do for as long as she can remember. It's just a part of her, nothing she thinks too much about.

Her eyes narrow slightly because she's not exactly sure she wants to know what he thinks of as special healing. But, he's already said her virtue wouldn't be in danger with him and she hoped that what he said was true.

She relaxed slightly when he continues on. "I don't know if I can either." Her head tilted slightly. Along the way? What would need continuous healing? "I would need to know more about this illness -- I'm assuming it is an illness -- and I'd need to examine you before I could tell you anything."

His lips press together in a tight line for a brief moment, but he understands the need.

"Makes sense," he replies, looking around the place. Beyond them, it's still just the three others, but he still doesn't feel comfortable opening up about his condition. Especially with the way the barmaid keeps hovering about, desperate to refill his mug and to be around.

Turning his head, he looks at the barrels on tap behind the bar. No food. That means it must be kept elsewhere. Like downstairs? All it takes is meeting the barmaid's eye and she's over at his side in the blink of an eye.

"Do you have any eidar cheese?" he asks. When she replies enthusiastically that they do, he orders a wedge with a loaf of bread and, as expected, she heads down the stairs to fetch them. The innkeeper is sweeping the other side of the tavern and the drunkard in the corner appears to be asleep, so he leans in and speaks to Dina in a hurried manner.

"It's a magic spell. An experiment was done—" How to explain? "I'm a berserker in battle, and the spell was meant to enhance my battle rage, but it goes too far. I lose sense of time and don't know what I'm doing. And it's not just in battle. I take a calming potion to hold it back. It helps, but it's not as effective as it once was. Can you heal that? Push it back when I tell you it's starting?" The barmaid's footsteps pound loudly against the wooden stairs as she starts to ascend and his brow furrows. He's so uncomfortable right now, and he prays to the Nine that this wasn't all a mistake. He's betting on her needing his help as much as he needs hers to prevent her from shouting from the rafters what a monster he is.

"How do you do that?" Dina finds herself asking as she watches the barmaid sauntering off to get the bread and cheese he's just ordered. Stupid cow. She can't help but think that because she just cannot understand why women act like that around any man. She would rather slit her own throat than to behave like that.

But she swallows and leans in a little so she can better hear him. Her eyes widen as he tells his semi story. Berserker and a spell gone awry. Why is that not surprising? And he wants her to somehow cure him or at least push it back for him.

Part of her wants to straight out tell him no, no she certainly cannot. But, there's the healer part of her that wants to try because no one should have to go through anything like that. Her fingers twitch just at the thought of attempting to heal him in any way.

She curls her hands into fists and stares at him silently for a few long drawn out moments. Finally, she gives a small nod of her head. "I can try. I make no promises, but I shall try." She glances around and even though there aren't many there, this was not the place for her to lay her hands on him.

"But, I don't think this is the place to attempt anything."

It's a talent he's always possessed. Maybe it's his build, maybe it's the fact he still has all his teeth, but women generally take an interest in him unless they just don't like men in general. It's not always a primal interest, but he has a way of catching people's notice. Even the change in his demeanor since this spell was placed on him hasn't dissuaded them. One would think that a stern expression and sharp words would deter them, but it simply makes them all the more determined, it seems.

He nods his thanks to the barmaid as she sets his plate down and clasps her hands together sweetly. She asks if he needs anything else and he shakes his head no, doing his best to ignore her so she takes the hint as he starts to eat. Once more her shoulders slump before she backs off to grab a towel and pretend to wipe down utterly spotless tables again.

"I agree," he says, mouth full of cheese and bread. "When are you planning on starting your journey, and which direction are you headed?" They may as well plot this out, and once they're alone on the road, she can examine him.

She could see he was handsome, in a rugged soldier-y, hadn't had a bath in a week sort of way. She might have found him more attractive but, he'd been rude when she'd first met and so she wasn't even looking at him the way the barmaid was.

And the stupid cow hadn't even asked her if she wants anything.

Clearing her throat, she focused on him. "Today. After you eat, preferably. Unless of course, you have something that's keeping you here." If that was the case, she'd have to go on herself because she just doesn't have the time to sit and wait for him. She would need to find someone else then, somewhere else. "Markarth. I hear there's a mage who might be able to give me some information."

"Nothing." In fact, he takes his pack from the floor and pulls out a wrapped linen, untying the knot and opening it to reveal more food. He shoves the cheese and bread inside and ties a knot in the fabric again before shoving it back inside along his meager possessions.

"I wasn't really hungry," he murmurs lowly to her. It had just been a tactic to get their little eavesdropper away for a minute. "I'm ready when you are. Have all the supplies you need?" There's a pause before he realizes, oh right, they still don't know each others' names. "I'm Joric." With the J pronounced as a Y, in the Nord fashion.

This was actually going quite well and Dina can't help but feel rather pleased. Perhaps one of the Gods was looking down and helping things along. Though perhaps it's just good luck. Either way, she's very pleased.

"Ah." She doesn't understand but, it leaves him with more food to bring with them. "I've been ready since before I even stepped foot inside of here." To make her point, she pushes her chair back and rises to her feet. She picks up her own back and quickly shoulders it. "I do. I have enough to last several days." Hopefully, they'd be able to find a village before that to replenish.

She blinks. How have they managed to talk so much business without even giving their names. "Well met, Joric. I am Dina." Pronounced Dee-nuh. Even though it's not her true name, it's what she goes by.

Even though she's never received her ale, she tosses a couple of coins on the table. "Shall we?"

He pushes back his chair and drops his own coin for the food begin nodding and standing up, casually towering over her.

"I'm not as familiar with the Reach as other places, but I'll get us to Markarth safely." As long as she doesn't do anything stupid that draws the eye of the Forsworn.

Her eyes widen as he stands. She hadn't realized how tall he was... Or how short she was. Either way, there's a discernable height difference. She shakes her head though and checking the straps of her pack, she begins to head out the door. She isn't at all familiar with the Reach, so at least he's somewhat.

Dina looks over - well up at him - as they head down the few steps of the inn. She's figured it could take at least a couple of weeks to actually get to Markarth and part of her wants to confirm that with Joric, but, she doesn't. She just walks silently next to him as they head down the pathway.

She has no need to fill the silence. They have many days to talk and it just seems foolish to start in on it straight away. She's not even sure how far they've walked before they come upon a small clearing. She pauses and glances over at him.

"This should be a good place for me to examine you."

He's not much for talking these days. There's no telling what might set him off so he finds it best to have as little conversation as possible. If she prefers silence the entire way, he could probably comply.

Slowing to a stop, he glances around and nods. "Right. Do I just stand here?" For all the messing about the mages at the College did, he's still not sure what he's meant to do when a mage — healer, whatever — wants to look him over magically.

She's shrugged off her pack and is rotating her shoulders when he speaks up. She looks over at him and is quiet for a moment while she tries to decide the best way to go about all of this. She personally prefers to lay her hands on the area that hurts, but he's so...

She's just not sure if he's the sort that even likes to be touched.

"Well, it depends. Your ailment. Does it only affect your moods? Your temper?"

Gray eyes narrow and he looks off down their path as he thinks on how to answer. In truth, he really doesn't want to talk about it anymore, but how can he expect her to hold it back if she doesn't know what she's dealing with?

"It usually starts if something irritates me. It could be anything. It's like the spell is waiting for something to latch onto so it can do its work. Then it gets worse and there's a point of no return. That's when I black out and it takes over. I'll kill anything in my path until my body's too exhausted to continue, then the rage disappears again and I know my surroundings once more." He pauses to reach into the pouch on his belt to show her one of the vials he carries. "I can recognize when it's starting, so I'll drink this to stop it. And I just... tend to stay away from people, just in case." But a potion is just a temporary solution. A healer by his side is the same. He needs a cure to get his life back.

Dina's eyes widen and for a moment she's wondering just what she's got herself into. But it was a spell, nothing that he had control over. He obviously wanted it gone and she wished that it was within her to pluck it from him. Still, she figures she can at least help him keep it at bay.

She pushes her hair over her shoulder as she turns and looks around the clearing. Not far from where they are is a fallen tree and she motions for him to follow her over to it. Once there, she motions for him to sit.

"You're so tall..." she begins to explain. She chews for a moment on her bottom lip and then continues on. "I need to touch you, most likely your head, that way I can try to help you."

He sits down, suppressing the urge to comment on how short she is in return. It's probably for the best not to insult the one trying to help him, so he simply sits quietly, waiting for any instruction she might have for him. He has no clue how she does her healing and even if he asked her to explain it, he probably would fail to understand.

"You tell me if it's in any way painful, and I'll stop." She says, glancing down at him.

Dina rubs her hands together and then blows on them. Taking a deep breath, she steps right in front of him and places her hands on the sides of his head, her touch gentle. Instinctively, her eyes close as she feels a familiar surge of heat go through her hands and passes right into him.

She's not quite certain how it works, she's never bothered to question her abilities. But she concentrates as she gently pushes her power into him, trying to find the source of the spell. It doesn't take her long, it's there and she almost recoils when she encounters it. It's dark and just... pure rage.

She could feel the strong force of it coiling before it tries to push forcibly past her hands and into her own body. But the energy in her hands enveloped it and she works at pushing it back and erecting a shield of sorts around it, keeping it from taking him over, at least for a while.

He can't understand what the magic feels like to someone else who's used to it all; he can only say what it feels like to him, and he can definitely feel a quick surge of it when she examines him. That's unsettling, because as he revealed to her, the rage needs a trigger to take hold. Had her examination triggered it? But as soon as it crops up, he feels it recede again in the same manner as the potion, albeit a little faster. There's also a feeling of warmth left behind that the potion lacks and he can't help but find it soothing.

One of the mages at the College had likened the rage spell to a twisted bramble patch. It had gone beyond what they had planned for and expected, almost taking on a life of its own. That was why it resisted removal — or so they said. It's made Joric come to think that no mage should mess with magic they don't fully understand, and can't fully control.

Lifting up his gaze, he waits to see what she says. Does she see what those other mages had seen when she looks inside his mind: a twisted, gnarled mess that wraps around each decent part of him, slowly eroding it to dust?

She exhales and opens her eyes. She shakes her head and then drops her hands to her side, hardly noticing that they're trembling. She had never encountered anything like what she had just now.

"It's almost as though it's alive," she whispered before bringing her gaze to meet his. She couldn't even begin to imagine what it was like to have to live with that all the time. She's only just dealt with it for a few brief minutes and she felt drained by it.

"They should have never done this to you." She had a feeling there was more to the spell than anyone has ever bothered to tell him.

It's something he already knows and has had confirmed before, therefore little in his expression changes. Dealing with this day after day has just become his life now and yet each day he feels more and more of himself slipping away.

"Mages do love their experiments," he replies. "They said it was to help us win the war, but the truth is they just want to see what happens if they mess about. They don't care what damage they do."

Exhaling a breath through his nose, he stands back up and shoulders his pack.

"Shall we keep going?" He's had far longer than she has to come to terms with this part of himself, so he already wants to push it aside and move on with their journey.

This was one reason she doesn't see herself as a mage. She works to help people, not harm them in any way. The mages who had done this to Joric, well, in her opinion they should have answered for what they'd done to him. She half wonders if they had paid in some way, but she's not entirely sure that's something she wants to know.

Running a still trembling hand over the front of her skirt, she nods. She actually needs a couple of minutes, but she doesn't wish to appear weak and make him question what he's signed himself up for.

Leaning over, she grabs her pack and shoulders it. Adjusting the straps again, she manages a small smile.

"Right. Lead the way."

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