Dawn
Fa'jirr thumbed his hood over his head, and prepared to enter the idle streets of Solitude through the yawning gates that felt like fangs closing on his neck.

The night was pleasant, fresh, and blessedly *Quiet.* Whispers of conversation reached his ears as runaway streams flowed to the creek, snippets of secrets bitten out into the crisp twilight, lost in white puffs of warm air from lips and in the conscience of those who cared to listen. Fa'jirr tilted his head to the starry sky, allowing the wind to kiss his nose and rustle the thick fur on his cheeks. There was a trick to telling the potential that lay in the shadows, he thought, a finesse that came with reading the darkness. Today, it told him this; tonight was a good night.

Fa'jirr had a job, though, as one often did in the wallows of Solitude. There was no peace to be found in the fidgeting fingers that lay at his sides, or the way his gaze darted along pockets and knapsacks lying at the waiting hands of guards. There was no placating temperance in the way his lips tilted upward into the slightest of smiles, russet muzzle turned brown in the light of sputtering torches. The night was good, and equally as profitable for deft hands. He only hoped his charisma would carry him through the night, and leave him able to afford breakfast tomorrow morning.
Robert
This deafening silence would occasionally be broken by the gentle tapping of wood against the stone streets of the capital, but the source of this disturbance could not be determined. 

Arel had finally made the most crucial life decision up until this moment, choosing to leave home and chart his own course through the sea that was life. It would not be an easy adjustment to make, quite the contrary, but he was willing to do anything if it meant being free of the stranglehold his family had on him. However, he could not stay in Solitude for fear that he would be caught and face inevitable retribution. He had to leave as quickly as possible and not draw any attention to himself, not even that of the guards, so he stuck to the shadows as much as possible, managing to leave the Avenues district and come so close to reaching the main gates. From there, he could wait for the guards to temporarily leave their posts and escape undetected. 

Despite the stress surrounding him, it did not inhibit his ability to devise a structured action plan.

One issue, however, the street leading to the front gate was as open and inviting as the plains of Whiterun hold, enveloped in the bright torchlight. He had no choice but to expose himself, hoping that those who walked the streets this late at night would be occupied with their respective tasks and not take notice of him. 

The young Nord adjusted his hood to cast a somber umbra over the upper half of his face and started down the road, clinging to the shadows as best he could.
Dawn
Fa'jirr was often penned for his curiosity and habit of being utterly unable to stay out of his own business. Nosy and uncouth with a tongue painted in silver that allowed him to slink his way out of trouble, he made far too much coin knowing things he shouldn't, and so investigating what was outside the norm was certainly not outside of his book of contract. In fact, it was entirely his business — selling secrets was a tough job that not any man could come across. A sellsword couldn't divulge the greatest weakness of a man, just as he was not able to bring his blade to the jugular.

This, of course, was precisely why a paw caught the nape of Arel's hood, barely enough to do much besides stop him in his tracks unless he chose to pull away. Petulant nosiness got the best of him once more, and a suspicious, gangly stranger hustling in the pale light of the city's guardian nighthawks that watched the shadows with a cat's eye was certainly one of the things that he could not ignore. Now, of course, he had to figure out if this figure was of any interest, and perhaps he'd strike gold — or find a soul he'd either be inclined to help or harm.

"If you intend to get out of the gates unnoticed, rushing through the shadows only makes you look more suspicious." He spoke, voice thickly accented and hushed slightly, unable to heard by any prying ears. It was his pride to have the exceptional hearing of a khajiit — to know how to temper one's voice to only permitted ears. The boy he had caught was proving to be scrupulous simply by how he avoided being seen by the common wanderer. No normal citizen wore a hood over their face and kept their shoes in the shadows, and they certainly did not have the scent of stress *Reeking* From them. He did have to give him some credit, though — he had hidden himself well. It was only thanks to his instincts that he stood out, and the fact that he mirrored his own antics when hiding something.
Linda
The sound of magic could be heard not too far away, like something was conjured then banished not too long after, purple light flashing briefly, it's not quite visible what exactly came out, but it was small, no larger than chicken, it hops up onto a barrel, making it easier to see, it's a cat, wearing a collar with blue cloth attached covering its back, it sits and licks it paw, looking at the two as they pass
Kathy
Raising his paw he waves, "*Dras'kay, trevan*" He says, speaking Ta'agra, "*Vara jer do?*", he says toward the cloaked figure, "Are you okay?"
Robert
With a soft yelp, Arel stopped dead on the spot, and his fragile heart skipped a beat as he gripped his hood with a clawed hand to keep his face from becoming exposed, fully believing himself to be compromised. However, upon hearing the unfamiliar voice of the Khajiit, his fears of somebody who knew him personally discovering him were alleviated. With how little he engaged with others in conversation, he was always listening and observing their individual accents, impediments, and the like, rendering him capable of swiftly determining who was speaking to him with a shocking degree of accuracy. 

The figure reluctantly turned to his captor, head hanging low out of shame and hands trembling as if he was barely supporting his own weight, even with his cane. While very little of his frail frame was visible, one would inevitably take notice of his deathly pale skin, pointed chin, and messy blonde hair that protruded from the seemingly infinite abyss of his robes. 

He refused to speak as the dim purple light illuminated the pair, if only for a moment, and drew Arel's attention away only to meet eyes with a feline licking its paw before... Speaking? It spoke in a language he recognized, Ta'agra, so he could only assume this was a second Khajiit, perhaps associated with the one who held him hostage? He could not be sure and this uncertainly chilled him to the bone more than a bitter Skyrim winter ever could.
Dawn
He would be lying if he said he wasn't caught unawares by the feline suddenly appearing behind him, but he should have known that he would not go undiscovered for long. Biting back a sigh, he studied the figure standing before him, claws still gently pinching the fabric of his hood between his thumb and index. What a curiosity.
The boy looked frail, sunken eyes and pale skin with hollow cheeks that cast shadows underneath the complexion of his face. His skin was nearly transparent, and the veins he could see under the translucent skin of his eyelids worried him, he could not deny. This was no normal resident striding out onto the streets with business to attend to. This was either a boy escaping a life in prison, or a *Very* Good liar.

"*Dras'kay. Kaaka vaba jer sarik etofor*?" He returned to the other khajiit in an unfamiliar tongue, the words coming as naturally as blood was let from a wound before his eyes returned to scrutinize the mysterious hooded figure, eyebrows furrowing and leaving a hardened look in his eyes. 

"You are weak." He began, bluntly. "Khajiit would be foolish to haggle a vagabond such as you." A frown tugged at his face. While dishonest, lacking entirely in integrity, and known for being overzealous with his antics, he was not cruel. His sharp eyes returned to watching the guards, a familiar pace he had studied from the times he had chosen to slip jeweled rings and circlets from pockets in Solitude before.
Kathy
He lets out a laugh, "I rarely do these kinds of things, brings too much attention to me, but this situation caught my *Dosana*." He looks Arel, "Is everything alright?" He says, hopping down from the barrel and inspecting the boy, "*Kha'jay*..." He mutters, seeing the boys face, he shakes his head, "No need to make a spectacle, do you have somewhere to stay?" He asks, in full teacher mode