William
The Dunmer had always been critical of Nordic literature, or whatever these mongrels decided to call it. Alas, he has business within the Bard's College that could not go unignored. When that piss-mer had walked up to him, asking him if he wished to be admitted, Varis had shot him one look that let him know *Exactly* What he thought of the curriculum. With enough said, Varis walked through the college, careful not to damage any of the books. While he found all of their collection mundane, he would never damage a book. Such was the only purpose for the College, in his eyes; to safekeep all the books. 

Such was why he had come at all. His own library, full of philosophy, arcane theoretical manuscripts, mathematics, and enchanting proofs were not enough for him, today. As he strolled through the Bard's College, he glanced about, seeing the famous Bards of Solitude. They were strapped at the hilts, with instruments along their backs or wherever seemed most accommodating. His eyes narrowed as he witnessed a group of adventurers, more than mewling minstrels. Some wore lavish garments, but the majority seemed armed and armored.

It brought some, small, measure of impression unto Varis. He still saw the Bard's College as a mongrel institution, but, a group of armed librarians? Now *That* Was something he liked the idea of. 

Eventually, Varis found a book that caught his attention. Or rather, a Collection of Volumes, titled, *The Song of Pelinal.* The Sorcerer been taught of Pelinal as a child, as all mer were, but he had never read the series. He took no time selecting the pig-man's book and inspecting it idly by the shelf he was at. Which, was also home to a collection of poems and songs, made from various times in the Imperial History, some surrounding the legend of Pelinal, and others surrounding legends of other men with great power. Some were beautiful and sweet, but it was a wrack for battle hymns. 

Varis simply idly read the books, his eyes scanning the pages.
Willard
*Corron looked now visably diffrent, he feelt like an idiot not realising that his clothes made out of velvette and silky, dyed in some of the brightest colours available in Highrock, made him an obvious target for pick pockets, so in Whiterun he exchanged them for more simpler clothes, ones that were made out of linen and homespun wool. He made some coin during the process too, but it was also no fortune. Their he also took on the task to escort some bard to Solitude. An easy job for a sellsword, even though he still did not see himself as one, but if the world did it was maybe for the better, at least for the time. If everything works out as he intends to do, than the mummers farce will soon be over with or at least he will be able to act again as if he were someone.*

*But the Bard seemed to be an annoying man, he claimed now that he had his the money for Corrons wage deposited in his quaters, so with annoyance he went with him. He was approched if he wanted to join the College, which he politly declined.*

*Well the Bard actually held his word and brought him 20 Septims. Now that he was here he could look for some poems, after all the Bards College is the only larger instetution in Skyrim that supported the high arts, a chance to read something more cultivated would not come again quickly, although he saw that even his mothers collection had some better works than the college. While looking for an intresting book he thought about his chances to join the Imperial legions. Skyrim finally become quite after years of trouble so they may not need more recruits.Yet his knightly education made him a professionell fighter already, so they are probably more inclined to safe time to train him and could use him for the cavelry.* 


*He found a copy of the Poetic Edda, Corron recalled that he read it once but he wanted to refresh his knowledge, maybe when he himself writes poets about Skyrim he will finde some Inspiration here.*

*He payed little attention to the dark elf in lavish lavender robes, who seemingly had a simmular thought. One thing he noticed right away was that said elf was not a member of the college, seeing things like this was a skill many breton nobles posessed, as it was needed to navigate the aristocratic society of Highrock.*
William
While Corron had replaced his foreign garb with that of the common Nord, Varis was...*Belligerently* Foreign. A transplant, through and through. Silk robes spun by spiders and nurtured by Telvanni Tailors. Jewels, necklaces, rings, and chains that were made of silver and amethyst. Some were made of Bone-Mold, like the Bone-Mold tablets that hunt from his ears. Such organic accessories hinted to his origins, depicting the sigils of House Telvanni, while others were clear indicators of his faith to the Reclamations, particularly the spindling depictions of Mephala. 

Varis' lips pursed as he read the Song of Pelinal, clearly unimpressed as he read through the pages. 

Though, footsteps neared the shelf, and a book was selected by a tanned, human hand as he stood to the side. His eyes shifted, their dark sclera and vibrant Azuran irises honing on the man before him. 

The Spellwright's head raised a tad, before he glanced to the tome Carron had selected. *The Poetic Edda.* Such had been a source during his research of Skyrim before coming to the wintry province. It was an excellent collection of the Nords' parables, fables, and hymns. As well as, one, or, two, well put sonnets. Though, the man before him, as he took the book and looked at it, Varis's eyes narrowed a tad. While Varis had not been raised with the aristocratic eye of a Breton Knight, he had the eye of a Telvanni Scholar, who had to know where a weapon was concealed at all times. 

The man had a good sword, and his rugged appearance seemed to have come from traveling. And yet, he was not particularly *Haggard*. 

Thus, the man spoke, with a deep voice and a smooth tongue, "A well-picked book. There's *Some* Good stuff there. A fan of the arts?"