Jacob
**Felbjorn just blinks once, before grabbing her boot to shove it back onto her foot.**

"I don't mean to be... Y'know... But maybe that's a long-term effect of some... Skooma? I've known some whose haven't touched a bottle, but their parents did. Makes them have all sorts of issues."
Michael
He shakes his head vigorously. Of course she didn't understand; nobody does.

He animatedly explains, "J'kir never knew his parents to do skooma. He knows some of the voices are just his mind playing tricks on him, but there are real ones, he assures you. They tell this one things he shouldn't know and gives him signs. Like you, you are one of many signs that it was time for J'kir to leave Falkreath."
Jacob
"Well, yeah, considering I'm literally here to drag you out of the town by your ears, I'd say I was a pretty clear sign of your time to leave."

**She manages to struggle the boot back on and stomps it on the carriage, which shutters the wood beneath.** 

"Look I'm not saying what you're experiencing isn't... Real. I'm not in that head of yours. But there's probably different explainations than dozens of Daedra and Aedra duking it out in your brain."
Michael
"They do not fight. They guide J'kir through life. Sometimes the Adversarial Spirits and Dark Spirits tell him to stray from his Path, but he is very good at ignoring them. He is also good at ignoring Sangiin and Alkhan," He continues.
Jacob
**Felbjorn opens her mouth to argue further. It wasn't really clicking for her. But instead, she shuts it and sighs. After a moment she just nods and speaks,**

"Alright. I won't pretend to understand what you're experiencing but, the Divines speak to us in a myriad of ways, and I'm sure... There's something behind what you're experiencing."

**She shrugs.**

"As a priestess I should keep myself attuned to peoples spirituality, regardless of how it manifests."
Michael
J'kir grinned widely. Finally, someone may not understand, but they're willing to believe him. It's been a long time since he was given that level of courtesy.

"You are a priestess? Of who?"
Jacob
"Kynareth. But I think you cat-folk call them something different."

**Felbjorn nods.**

**She continues,** "I'm... More of a lay-priest. Its a side-duty. I assist the other priests and priestesses. The Companions of Jorrvaskr have captured my full heart. Full respect to Kynareth, but priestess duties does not contain the same thrill as punching someone's lights out."
Michael
"This one believes you speak of Khenarthi, Goddess of the Winds. She is usually quiet, very busy moving the moons along and escorting true cats to Llesw'er," He says.

He nods as she speaks.

"J'kir has never been the fighting type. He only knows how to use a dagger. But it is good that you have found a place for yourself."
Jacob
"I've had many families over the course of my life. Got my biological parents... Probably old by now. Maybe dead. Never got to figure that one out."

**She shrugs.**

"The Forsworn that took me in. The Wilds. The Priesthood. But the Companions are the first family that feels truly like a family I've been missing. When I came to Jorrvaskr, proved my worth, it was like they were already my kin, waiting for me to come home."
Michael
"Biological family is... Not always the best. Mother, father, and siblings sent J'kir away because they could not hide him."

He looks downcast for a moment before perking back up slightly.

"The Forsworn... Those are the wild men out by Markarth, yes? It is good you got away from them. It is even better that you found a place you feel accepted. J'kir is still looking for that, himself."
Jacob
"Well... Despite what I'm told now, I was raised to admire the Forsworn. And there's still a part of my heart that yearns for them. But that's the past, and the Reachmen are stuck in it."
Michael
"This one supposes they live a freer life than most. Maybe that is what you are missing? A life away from cities and jobs?"
Jacob
"Maybe. There's a purity in life within the wilds. You do your part to sustain the tribe. There's no... Greater system that exists beyond what you have. You care for you and your own, and for others as they come."

**She nods.**

"They also demand strength. Competency. Weakness is understood but not accepted. Its sought after and widdled down until even the most pathetic whelp can stand for their own. I suppose that's what gravitated me to the Companions so."
Michael
"This one can see how someone could come to miss that life. Although, J'kir would not survive it," He jokes with a chuckle.

"How did you come to join the Companions? There must be a story there. The little he has heard of them, they are a prestigious band of warriors."
Jacob
**She smirks and leans back, hands behind her head. Her legs kick out; with not enough room to spread them in the cart, she kicks them up onto the seat across from her, boots crossed just beside J'kir.**

"Well... If you want to get very simple and technical... We're mercenaries, basically."

**She glances to J'kir.**

"We're fighters and warriors who get paid coin to resolve fighter and warrior problems. But its rooted in deep traditions of the Nords..."

**She glances forward and closes her eyes, chuckling.**

"The Nords... Heh. Sorry, that's my Reachman heart seeping through. But its a family, I think. Not just to me. Its the closest thing to comradery you can get next to Sovngarde."

**She sighs, happily,** "As though Ysgramor himself left a little piece of it when he left. That's what the Companions is."
Michael
He nods and listens closely as she speaks. At the end, he smiles.

"That sounds very lovely. This one understands a family is a wonderful thing to find. But how did *You* Join? With all of that, you must have a story."
Jacob
**She snorts.**

"Sorry. Got carried away. I rattle sometimes."

**She sits up.**

"Wasn't the plan originally. Don't think I ever even heard of the Companions until I came to Whiterun."

**Despite sounding callous about it, she was beaming as she recalled the story.**

"When I got there I was serving at the temple. Cleaning, assisting in healing, small duties... Well, being right across the way from Jorrvaskr, and being a practical giant of a woman, it didn't take long for one of the Companions to approach me. Farkas was his name."

**She pauses for effect, letting J'kir chime in if he wanted.**
Michael
He listens intently, elbows on knees and leaning his head on his hands. His eyes are wide as he stares at her while listening.

"No offense, but you *Are* As big as a Cathay-raht."
Jacob
"I 'unno what a Cathie Rat is, but regardless, Farkas challenged me to a drunken challenge of might. Wanted to prove his strength... Pushups in the Bannered Mare. Customers cheering and placing bets on who would do more... After that was an arm wrestling challenge, then a brawl."

**She holds a finger up, as if trying to recall.**

"I won the pushups, lost the arm wrestle... And we split even on the brawl."

**She smirks, staring up at the sky with one hand behind her head.**

"So he asked if I'd have the guts to join the Companions. And the rest is history."
Michael
"A Cathay is the type of khajiit most commonly seen outside of Elsweyr. Cathay-raht are bigger, stronger, and more agile."

He hums as he listens, tapping his fingers along his jaw.

"That is quite the tale. Is Farkas as large as you? If so, this one may be more out of place in Whiterun than Falkreath," He chuckles.
Jacob
**She shakes her head.**

"He's big, but I'm... What's the smart word for it... Anomalous."
Michael
"Maybe you are giant-kin," He snickers.

"You know, J'kir glad to have met you. He might have never made it out of Falkreath if you had not come. Of course, your kindness is the real thing to applaud."
Jacob
"I was just doing my job. But... Thanks."
Michael
"You did not have to give J'kir a ride out of Falkreath. This one saw how you paid for his passage."
Jacob
**She tsks.**

"I still made a profit on this trip."

**She was insisting that she was simply doing her job... But she knew better.**
Michael
He shrugs.

"It is still a nice gesture. I appreciate it."
Jacob
**She finally concedes, nodding in silent acceptance of the appreciation. She goes to a sachel that she had left on the cart earlier. It wasn't particularly large, but she digs out a bottle of Black-Briar Mead, popping the cork.**

"I have a bottle after every successful job. Sorta a ritual, I guess. Want some?"
Michael
He perks up and nods.

"This one would very much like some."
Jacob
**She had used her teeth to pull the cork off. The ale inside was only slightly bubbly, the gorgeous black, syrupy substance inside getting downed as Felbjorn lifted the bottom toward the sky, funneling the liquid down her throat. After a good amount was drank, she wipes her lips with the sleeve of her arm, and offers the bottle over.**

"Y'know, khajiit are not usually allowed in cities... Least not in a trading capacity. Though since you're a different kind of Rat, you're probably less likely to draw attention."
Michael
J'kir takes the bottle and takes a good, long swig before handing it back. He leans back on his hands and taps his fingers along his jawline.

"That usually only applies to the caravans. This one does not have any skooma or moon sugar on him, so he should be fine."
Jacob
"I'm not sure the caravans do either. But eh."

**She shrugs, taking another swig. She offers the bottle to the carriage driver, who takes the bottle and swigs up himself before handing it back empty.**
Michael
"Oh, the caravans usually do. Moon sugar is a key part of khajiit culture and many dishes, while skooma is used by moon priests for their visions. Though, most caravans are just smugglers."
Jacob
"Thought skooma was made by dark elves?"
Michael
"It was initially, but some khajiit have fallen to its influences as well."
Jacob
"Skyrim has had a skooma problem since before Ri'saad came by. Trust me, this whole business is just a scapegoat."

**She makes a gesture with her head toward the foresting areas, eastward.**

"Out by Riften there's a nasty skooma den. I know cause I've had to deal with a fair amount of skooma addicts."
Michael
"Ri'saad is a good man. This one traveled with him for a time before J'kir left the caravans. It is true, khajiit are blamed for many things we did not do, and cultures do not transfer well. In Elsweyr, quick and nimble fingers are considered highly prized. Here, they get you labelled a thief."