William
*Talia at-Tura had now discovered she was a woman of simple pleasures.*

*She simply liked to enjoy the pleasure of dancing.*

*A crowd had gathered yet again as a group of minstrels from the Bard's College played an upbeat jig. Talia found herself dancing in the middle of a large group of passerbys when she had unexpectedly been pulled in. Despite her initial intention of waiting by the city gate, two little girls, one Dunmer and one Nord, had pulled her in and Talia couldn't refuse their smiles. Children, adults, and even a few elders all danced in a round to the tune, and as the song neared its end, Talia found herself smiling. As the song finished, the street was filled with cheering and laughter. Talia slowly waded her way through the crowd as everyone stopped to tip the players before they continued.*

*But as much fun as it had been, Talia had business to take care of.*

*She was once again in her common garb with her large hair pulled back, but this time into a braid that had come a little loose in the time she spent dancing. Talia didn't notice as she watched a fresh group of supply wagons come through the gate. Flustered, she ran a flat palm over her hairline and wiped her hands on the apron of her dress as she started examining the wagons, searching for her quarry. At last, she saw the wagon with the East Empire logo on its side. Excellent.*

*The wagon's steward leanded over in his seat to talk to an Imperial Soldier. Presumably checking in with the shipment he had brought. Talia patiently waited her turn before the man finished his business with the guard, turning and spotting her on the other side of his wagon.*

*After a short exchange, the driver handed over an envelope with a wax seal, which Talia promptly put in her dress before moving off the main road and letting the man on his way, smiling back at the bard's playing and opting to watch the new dance exchange this time. She didn't want to sweat through the letter's writing.*
Mitchell
Not even those haughty elves at the Radiant Raiment could compare to his style. When he stepped in, they gushed over the silks and fabrics he wore, but ultimately, they could not compare. What use was a bit of linen compared to the silk of a Kwama, or a Spider Daedra? The latter was far more difficult to come by, even for a Conjurer like himself, but it was the greatest of qualities. Thus, he would not even dare *Let* Them touch his ingredients, and instead had to go to a Dunmer man in the city, who had retired, and offered him a job. 

What self-respecting Dunmer would dare to deny a Telvanni Homelander? Though, it also helped, Varis supposed, that the ingredients and components he had were top tier. Plus, he only needed a few robes, given that he could simply whisk his hand and cast the filth away from him. Showers, baths, laundry, it all seemed like such a waste of time. Especially as he watched the people of Solitude, and how little time they had to waste. Every second was a hustle for life and survival.

Varis walked through the streets, unashamed of his alien attire and materials, baubles and trinkets, and gladly recieved glances of disapproval and envy. He cared little for their wants and needs, their attention. He preferred his garments well made, and his trinkets enchanted to his liking. Though, the occassional peasant, who thought it wise to pickpocket the mage, gave Varis great satisfaction. 

Especially, after they found nothing in his pockets, and his jewels unmoving, it only took a few moments before the pickpocket's hands would begin to melt. A prolongued fire-rune. Something forgotten by the flashy wizards of this province. Seering pain, incrementally picking up over time, was far more satisfying. 

Though, recasting those spells did take time. But, in his mind, it was worth it.

Varis, however, did not walk through the streets to merely terrorize the criminal element. No, instead, he was headed for the gates, to pick up a shipment. The East Empire company was supposed to deliver a package the day prior, but after a friendly chat with the Officer on duty, he found out that his package had been set back by a week. Good thing their chat had ended with it arriving today, as Varis made his way to the gate, and paused. 

Beyond the celebrations in the streets, he saw Talia. His eyebrow rose as he clasped his hands behind his back. She was acquiring a letter from the carraige driver that had his shipments onboard. He raised an eyebrow, but did not wish to pry. He knew her to be loftier than she wished to appear, in her common clothes. Maybe she preferred the job of a spy, though she had affluence in her breath. He shrugged, meandered toward the carraige, spoke to the driver, and offered a few gold for the shipment to be delivered directly to the Winking Skeever, and taken up to his room. 

The extra gold was to ensure that it was safely handled. Ritual components were not cheap, and certainly not as durable as he'd hope. 

Though, Varis did not return to his room just yet, as he was curious. What had Talia ordered, or recieved, that made a letter so important so as to visit the front gates? He chose to stand still, plucked his notebook from his robes, and began to write. To occupy himself, he decided to write some observations about the music. Drivel, as far as he was concerned, *But*, there were chords that had their merit. Particularly ones that spoke of the commoner's plight. Knowing these things made it easier to connect with them, so to manipulate them. From afar, of course. No peasant wants to see someone like Varis speaking to them about a business opportunity.
William
**There's something in the air.**

*It was a pinging taste, like a citrus that had been left out for too long and now was not only sour, but a tad bitter. Talia's spine began to tingle slightly as she looked around from where she had wandered back toward the crowd. A slow glance over her shoulder and the familiar collection of robes and ashen skin told her all she wanted to know. A sly smile slipped over her face, and she turned around to meander back towards the wagon. Both her hands folded themselves behind her back as she walked up to her recent acquaintance.*

"It's been a while, Just Varis." *Talia says gently, but with an air of teasing.* "You sure know how to keep yourself busy. I haven't seen you since your arrival in Solitude." *Her accent sang of sunlight and her smile played with warmth. It was quite the sight, the beaming redguard and the brooding dunmer. No doubt it made the ghosts of Stormcloaks past roll in their graves.*
Mitchell
His eyes shifted, a sleight of face, as his eyelids did not move, but he peered through his eyelashes. His knitted brows spoke of studious focus, but his irises were locked on Talia, as she waded her way through the stream of lives. It was impressive, how even in such common attire, she could command herself with such grace. 

Meanwhile, the brooding Dunmer had no knack for grace. Only subtlety of the smallest regard. He could not expend a smile of great joy, nor a look of seductive wariness. He was direct, cold, calculating, and when he wanted something, he demanded it. 

Varis raised his chin, looking up from his notebook, and at her. The slightest of smirks formed, barely visible through his facial hair, as he tilted his head and raised his eyebrows. The man chuckled a little at her jest, to keep a touch of lightness. He appreciated her presence, for he could tell when someone was *Too* Good at conversation. 

"Idle hands are the servants of Bal. My work takes me all over the city, from the docks, to the Castle Dour, and even, sometimes, the Blue Palace. But, I must comment, that the Blue Palace, as renowned as it may be, as beautiful, as it may be... Lacks. Hm. An odd place, that one. The docks, the Dour, they all have purpose. Known and true. The Blue Palace? Such... A combination of so many ambiances. Hm. Impressive, how one might stay on top of it all. Just, impressive." He smirked, and closed his notebook, using a sash to hold his place.