Rhonda
The road to Markarth—Nchuand-Zel, Mirihil always had to remind herself—had been relatively fruitful. There'd been a higher variety of all kinds of jobs than she'd expected. Monsters, bandits, hauntings, curses... They all seemed to be on the rise. It was to be expected with times of contempt, she supposed.

However fruitful it was, though, it was still rough. Snow fell often now, and it was deathly cold. Maybe staying in Solitude would've been a better move, she thought to herself. Being antsy and bored was better than freezing to death. She planned to keep heading south and hopefully find some relatively warmer weather.

It was her second day in the city and she didn't have anything planned, but she didn't feel like staying in her room all day. So she left the inn and made her way over to Understone Keep, making the short walk to the Dwemer excavation once she entered. Magic and its applications might have been her forte, but she still loved history. Especially when metaphysical mysteries got wrapped up in the mix. 

She was at the excavation site now, lingering around the border between the public and restricted parts. She was obviously enraptured by the contraptions, mind swirling with theories.
Pamela
*There was a white haired dunmer standing next to Calcelmo, the court wizard. They were looking down into the pit. He yelled at a group of workers.*

"Be careful with that! It's been years since their limbs have actuated, the gears may break!"

*And then suddenly there was a loud thud. He put his mechanical right hand to his face and turned around to go take a break.*
Rhonda
When Byleth turned, he'd see Mirihil looking over at the commotion. She chuckled to herself a bit, memories of her own experimental mishaps floating to her mind's surface. 

"Nothing too significant's been damaged, I hope?" She said once Byleth got closer.
Pamela
"Hm? Oh, no not that I'm aware of yet. It's not actually that important... Just want to instill in them carefulness."

*He hadn't said anything about her not being an excavation member, he wasn't as much of a loser as Calcelmo. His body seemed split in half, the right side entirely constructed of brass. He also had brass lipstick on the right side of his lips.*
Rhonda
"Good, good. I've worked at a couple excavations in my time. Never damaged anything, thankfully," She said.

Byleth's appearance gave him a strange aura. It looked like he'd been temporally displaced—both from the past and the future. She was almost reminded of the Clockwork Apostles she'd read about. The half-split in his body certainly seemed to evoke Vivec, but she couldn't be sure if it was intentional.

"I'm Mirihil. Not here on any sort of business—just looking around," She confessed. She wasn't entirely sure if she was even allowed here, but she'd simply adopted the age-old strategy of acting like she was supposed to be here, and it had worked.
Pamela
"You seem competent enough, so I don't really care what you do. Just avoid the old, grumpy one. The old *Looking* Grumpy one, I'm much older than him. He's veey stingy about who should and shouldn't be here..."

*On his brass side, on his chest, the Tribunal ghartok was engraved clear as day. It looked like a separate piece which spun to open his chest. In the pit, a primitive Crane was being used to lift a massive piece of an automaton out. Some sort of drilling arm. The pit went down like a quarry, with multiple levels touching the actual dwemer ruins. There were tracks for carts set up to bring things to and fro.*
Rhonda
"Understood," She answered with a small laugh. This Calcelmo fit the cliché of a coirt wizard, it seemed.

Once she spotted the ghartok, she couldn't help but ask. "So... Brass for half your body, expertise in automatons, and a Tribunal ghartok... You a Clockwork Apostle, by any chance? I've read about you lot, but I thought you were all stuck in the Clockwork City."