Taylor
A brief look of conflicted anger washed over Salen's face. His hand clenched itself into a fist. He stared with his dark brown eye into Varis, the blind one remaining impassive. The muscles of the scarred portion of his face twitching but unable to fully flex. Salen chewed on his words for a moment. 

"What I did was a lapse In my judgement. I needed to do something to get out of this oblivion-cursed tundra. Thirty years, Thirty god's forsaken years I have been stuck here. .. After I rise up, I will leave. Return to the Isle where I was born, and get married and die. The Thalmor was good to me before I was stationed here. A passing tolerance of my, condition. My loyalty to them is assured by my continued existence. Every little slight against them is another nail in my coffin. What I did for you was akin to me sticking my neck before the headman's axe. So yes, it is bad for me to choose for myself. I risked my life, just for chance to get back home. "

Within his words there was a pang of emotion, a subtle crack in his voice, a waver. Salen moved to rub the bridge of his nose, the dead milky eye stared ahead. He let out a sigh and looked almost defeated. Moving to take a sip from the water that the sever had left for the two of them. Once he refreshed himself he glanced over his shoulder, watching to see if any prying eyes, or lost ears, were attempting to listen in on his rant.
Mitchell
No onlookers or eavesdroppers were in sight, as the Altmer spoke. In fact, those that did look at them, an Altmer and a Dunmer at the same table, looked with passive interest, but as though they had no idea what they were saying. Even the closer tables. They carried on about their business, as if nothing was happening. 

Varis watched Salen, and said simply, "Hmph."

A simple, airy noise that could mean anything. Amusement? Disappointment? Irritation? All these things came to mind at the sound of that noise, and yet Varis only placed his arms on the table again, and looked at Salen. 

"Before, I heard you echo these words. Your loyalty was earned, or something to that affect. It was an obligation as a form of repayment. *A passing tolerance of my, condition.*" Varis gestured to Salen, "I don't imagine you mean your eye, as you got that lovely mark while here, meanwhile, your faith and obedience was earned in Summerset."

Varis placed his hands together. "In Port Telvannis, my mother had slaves when she was a girl. Abolition was on everyone's mind, and the great Nerrevarine was making a name for himself, with a cured affliction of the Divine Disease. Before he challenged Dagoth Ur, my mother, she had a slave Altmer, who was her butler, of sorts. He was a House Slave, one that did not work in the salt rice fields. He loved her, and her family, because he did not have to do such grueling work, and he had never known freedom, being born into servitude. He had worked for another plantation, but my family was, *Merciful* To him, she said. They took pity on him, but they *Never* Saw him as anything but a Slave. Better yet," He held up his finger. "A slave that would possibly out-live them. A perfect tool, to take care of their descendants."

Varis frowned. "He was completely obedient. Even when my family, once under my Mother's Matriarchy, turned our slaves into a paid labor force, he stuck around. He did not dare leave our side. Even now, he tries to deny every septim he is offered. He dotes on and obeys all of my mother's wishes, no matter what."

"When he began to look after me, I treated him like filth. He was weak. He was an obedient, weak, droning man. Utterly undeserving of my presence."

Varis frowned a bit more, the creases of his lips evident through his facial hair. "Even when I got these," He gestured to his face. "He elected to sit at my bedside, and perform his duties, to get me to feel better. To heal. He was so devoted, and on that day, I realized why. He was never free. He would never know freedom, because he would always choose the safety of the Home. Of the Hearth. Why be a free man, out in the jungle of civilization, when he could be fed, and given the creature comforts, of a House Slave?"

The Sorcerer shrugged. "It is a way to survive. Alas, I do not believe survival, and *Liviing*, are the same thing. I realized that, when I saw him at my bedside, where not even my parents attended as regularly. He was doing his best, to be at my side, so that he could be of use, for as long as he lived. Can you imagine? Over three hundred years of service, and, not a moment of unwavering loyalty?"

Varis looked at Salen now, directly into his eyes. "So, my business partner, he who dare not reject his Masters, *Are you a House Slave*? Do you really believe the Dominion is deserving of wielding your Headsman's Axe? For your betrayal to a people who hate you, *Do they deserve to decree your death*?"

The Telvanni shook his head, as he leaned back. "No. You chose yourself, and thus, you may *Never* Have a Master again." He remained still, watching Salen intently.
Taylor
Salen stared in a shocked silence as Varis spoke, he listened as the other mer told his story. Salen grit his teeth, his eye darting to the side every once in a while. As Varis finished, and posed his question Salen could only sit quietly. He heard a ringing in his ears, the comparisons to a house slave. 

Salen's thoughts were spinning, his vision focusing on the grain of the table. He leaned forward, shrinking in his seat. Realizations were bubbling up, and so were emotions. He felt a bulge at his larynx, he gulped. It did not go away. He wanted to cry, an ache in his gut. But he didn't. Salen hadn't shed a tear in almost twenty years, the last time he did he was staring up at the sky, a massive chunk of flesh burned away from his face. He sullenly sighed. 

"I suppose you have a point." He spoke the words as if it caused him pain to do so. "But, this is not something I can simply run away from. This is the Aldmeri Dominion, the Thalmor. I have been taught nothing but loyalty to them since I was a child. My mother, who bore my tainted flesh into this world is in the same situation as I. If I stumble, if I mess up. It's not just me, it's her, it's my sisters. My entire lineage. Gone, due to my errors..." Salen took a moment to compose himself. Choosing his next words. 

"You, Varis Xai'Shen. Are correct. I am comfortably under the boots of my superiors..." Salen let out a deep sigh. Before continuing his thought, "I want to live." Salen stared out past Varis. "It, is hard to see any alternatives beyond the path I am on. There is, safety, moving with in the shadows. Biding my time, waiting for pieces to move into the correct places. But the god's have seen it to damn me themselves. Miserable luck for the past Thirty years.

I was confident once, that when I lost my eye there would be no more use for me. I would be medically discharged and sent home. I knew that was not the case when I woke up, half blind and delirious. I waited for my papers to be processed. And by the time I was healed enough to return to duty, my rejection was handed to me. I schemed, I begged, seemingly everything I tried was not at the right time."

Salen groaned and leaned back in his chair. Face returning to it's neutral expression. "Perhaps the stars have finally aligned. My leash is short. I can only do so much without incurring fatal suspicion."
Mitchell
The Sorcerer watched. He watched the pain it took to admit these things. He raised his chin and leaned into his seat, observing. Listening. 

And in the end, Varis nodded. 

"I can tell you value your family. But, I must wonder, how valuable are you, that they would threaten your family? Should you disconnect from the Dominion, would they use your family to lure you back? When you and your tainted flesh was conceived, why not kill your mother then, if you were only a thing meant to tolerate? I know of Altmer Purity, and the belief of it within the Dominion. This suggests she is powerful, indeed. So, why waste her for your sake?"

Varis frowned as he said this. "The first step to acquiring freedom, is to know your worth. Once that is known, the plan begins. And I, Salen Jaelinoth, am an avid Abolitionist."

The Wizard raised his eyebrows. "You admit yourself to being a House Slave, in this regard. Thus, I wonder, the *Possibility* Of your family being slain, and thus continued servitude, or the assurance that you die on your own terms?"
Taylor
Salen looked down. 

"I'm not sure what the extent of the punishment would be if I defected, or if I was caught. I know that I will be killed. But all defectors and traitors are. I care about my family, but I know that they will be dragged in as well for my crimes. Will they be killed? I'm not sure. I've always assumed that the worst will happen. Because that is how things are."

Salen locked his fingers together, and looked up at the ceiling for a moment. "I have seen things, terrible things. Say what you will about the Thalmor, but they are efficient when it comes to torture and massacre. I'm sure you will gaze upon the wounds of the bodies I collected for you. And that is just scraping the surface. I have been spared the direct viewing of what they do in Dominion Territory. But the reports I have read have left me feeling sick."

Salen took a moment to take a sip of water before continuing. "It is why I fear repercussion. Why I attempt to do things on their terms. This new justiciar, may be my saving grace. But I will have to be savvy when navigating the social ladder from now on."