The Tale of the Vulkhel Runner — An Eidetic Memory

The Argonian blocked the punch. With no clear semblance or care about her surroundings, she sent another swing at my head. My fucking head.

"Don't pull that on me! What about Thorn? Or your kid!"

Square in the jaw, I took a hit.
...
"You are fighting for your livelihood."
"Do you even care about those around you?!"
My temple. I can't see.

---

The ship kept crashing. Crashing on the waves. Make it fucking stop I can't sleep and I know they'll be back at d—

"Chief Mate, save the goddamned captain!
"Vulano, where in Oblivion are you? Help!"

No, I'm awake. I'm not here. Where am I?

What the hell is she doing?

No, not here again. It was on the coast. It was before I died.
I died? No.

It was some time after I was recruited into the Dominion. How did I get promoted so quickly? Better yet...why are we being attacked? Or. Why were we being attacked?

Jrisho was the only one that made it off, with me. But we didn't make it together. Did we? It's...hazy.

I woke up, it was some time at night. The moons were full...weren't they? I can't recall. But I recall...some ship. I killed the captain. It bit me in the arse, in the end.

"Vulano, the captain is dead! OUR captain!"

They were boarding...from the. Starboard...what?

Damn. I remember now.

"I'm going to rip your goddamned throat out with my teeth and stake your skull on the bow of the ship to use as a fucking warning to anyone else that tries something so pathetically moronic."

It was a stupid call. But I did it. I did it, and the ship wanted to throw me overboard. But they didn't get the chance to. Another ship came. And they wanted slaves, not heads. Not less numbers for the war. They just wanted slaves. And I had shown my cards. That kind of worship is punishable by death.

It wouldn't last. We had diverted far, far off course, and only two of us would live to actually tell the tale.

---

I wrapped my hands around her throat. I wanted to pop her head like a wine glass, but I kept a gentle grip. For once in my pathetic life, I kept myself from at least physically hurting a friend. I couldn't think, though. I was still out of it.

"If you try to pull that stupid shit again, I'll rip your goddamned throat out with my teeth and stake yo—"

I came back to myself. No clumps of gore, and no blood on me. Except for my own, of course. With nothing but my little girl on the mind, and a living friend.

"Say uncle!"
"Let her go!"
This isn't right. This isn't right. Defend yourself, you're dying. Defend yourself.

Your arm–My arm, it's free. One loud crackling noise, and my arm is free. A small price to pay for survival. One hook to the temple. Grab your dagger. Don't lose sight, now. Wake up, the hunt is still going. What would he think? Kill him. Make his blood spill, make it line the ground. Assert your leadership of the town with fear; prove that–

I can't see. I can't see.

---

Everyone on the ship died, that day, except for one Khajiit friend. One that was afflicted, as well. It was a terrible curse, but to see someone else in the Dominion with it–someone who had also slipped by the scouting for the afflicted. It was an impossible sight to see. I had a plethora of questions that would remain unanswered, for the time being.
Unfortunately, our cards were dealt, and the ship hadn't seen us turn. they never did. How? Maybe we ran belowdecks. Maybe they were too busy waiting for the flames to go out, that had nearly downed the ship. I woke up next to a gorged Jrisho in the captain's quarters, but I could tell he took his affliction in stride. A blood-tinted smile and lazy cat-eyes met mine.

"Do'jrisho thinks that Altmer Chief Mate has many guises, beneath muscled physique. This is why Vulano is so...defined, no?"

My gods, what a disgusting first impression.

"Don't fucking speak to me, you animal." I stood up and started for the door.
"Chief Mate, no! Wait a–"

I had already opened the door, but I recall. It was too late. Directly in front of me stood at least fifteen Dunmer, all with the same look on their face. It was the expression of desperation; the same one that expressed their need to collect something, anything, to profit from this disaster of a slaving expedition. They had finally found their prize, and it was in the form of a two hundred and sixty pound Altmer, and a just as equally large Khajiit. Perfect pairs for slave work.

I pulled my sword and sent it straight from the sheath, towards one of the Dunmeri slavers approaching me. I assumed it would've panned out much more impressively in my own head, but...it did not end up that way. Although I did cut him down from side-to-side on his torso, I was met with an incredibly anticlimactic jolt of lightning, which sent me spazzing onto the ground in a fit of rage, and into an absolute loss of control. I could hear Jrisho yelling in the back, but. I could not make out what was being said. I watched him, through foggy eyes, try to kill the same one that had attacked me. He almost managed it, but he was out just as quickly.

A few days later, we finally came to, on board a ship reeking of ash and sujamma.

---

"Just listen to my voice."

I can't see who you are, but I know who you are. I want to listen, but I can't see. I can't know that you are real.
Finally, after a dreadful moment, my sight returns. I can see. But I can still feel every ripple of the episode; I can't move, I can't dare to move. If I risk it, I could end up back in the arms of a slaver. A–

A Dunmer.

When my vision returns, I have to fight every impulse, and every instinct, to restrain my prejudice. It is not inherent; it is taught. It is not inherent. It is taught. And the one you stare at, is not a slaver.

If I just think of home, then the feeling mends itself. I'm holding someone, anyone. And it is all I care to feel, right now.