Once Michael was sure Charlotte wasn't going to drop dead, he gives her a quick explanation about what he'd been doing since they'd arrived. His venture into a crypt, fighting a vampire(which he'd had to explain to them as neither knew what a vampire was), and then him going off to help find Lohir...
"I know where a priest who might be able to heal your mother is, but... He's going to be kind of busy." he says, the duo nodding in understanding. Falkreath wasn't a very popular place to live, with its only real produce being lumbar and forest bandits. Thus only a single Priest or healer was really needed. Of course, there were other 'healers' around, those who dabbled in using herbs or making 'poultices', but from what Michael had seen, they were just people playing with First Aid and unrefined alchemy.
"I think the most important thing is to get you guys familiar with the local language. I don't know if there's any spells for that, I remember Colbert using one but whether or not you know it?" he shrugs, "So, unless you've got a spell for it, Illu can teach you what she's learned from Valga over the past couple of days." he says, knowing that Illococoo had been staving off boredom by getting Valga to tutor her. She'd actually learned quite a lot, but he just chalked that up to her being a Rhyme Dragon.
Charlotte frowns, "Do not know the spell... Square Magic?" she says with a questioning tone, sounding as if she were grilling herself for knowledge.
Michael shrugs, "Alright, you two get on that. I'll bring you to the Priest once he done with Lohir's funeral. For now, I'm going to check on Tiffania, I think you guys need to adapt to this new world's magic, and since Tiffania used a very intensive spell beforehand..." he trails off as he gets up, the rest not needing to be said.
Charlotte nods, and he could hear Illococoo begging to match Tamrielic to Halkeginian languages. For example, saying tree in one language, then the next. He wasn't sure how long it'd take Charlotte to pick up, but she was smart and still young.
He ducks into the next room and sits on the bed where Tiffania was sleeping. He stares at her for a moment before...
*Squish*
Poking her in the cheek and waiting for a reaction. Her face scrunched up as she turns onto her side, but no cigar, she wasn't awake. "Yo, Tiff, you gotta wake up... You're gonna miss out on Sweet Rolls and whatever other shit they've got here." he says while shaking her shoulder.
"NNNNnnnnnn..." the girl groans, causing the hairs on the back of his neck to rise...
He tries a few other things to wake her up, eventually leading to him dripping a few drops of cold water onto her forehead... Unfortunately, this doesn't get the response he was looking for... Tiffania sucks in air in response, her body beginning to hyperventilate.
"Oh, shit." he swears, watching as this continues for three minutes until finally slowing. "Alright, no more trying to wake her up." he mutters to himself, not wanting to see what else could happen if he persisted. Whatever was happening refused to let her wake up, so all he could do right now was wait and hope.
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Elsewhere :
"So, you say it was the boy who slew the animal?" Jarl Dengeir inquires from his throne, raking his hands through his beard in interest but also a concern.
Nenya nods, "That's what they say, this Michael has not been here long yet he has already contributed much to the Hold. There are even rumours of him slaying a coven of Vampires, though, that would need to be investigated."
The Jarl furrows his brows, "And what would a warrior such as he want here? They could have gone anywhere else for anything else. He wants gold? Riften. He wants fame? The capital. The boy wants a challenge? The companions in Whiterun... Nenya, I feel there's a plot afoot." he says with a dire expression, though, it doesn't last long as Nenya scoffs at him.
"You think there're plots everywhere my liege. Have you forgotten that most people visiting from the Empire on foot pass through here? Even if he intended to stay, I believe we should make use of him instead of scaring away an asset."
Dengeir lots out a huff of annoyance at his steward's disrespect, but doesn't comment on it due to how long they'd known each other. "You trust too easily Nenya, one day it'll be the doom of us all..."
The High Elf just shakes her head, "You with your excessive ideas."
"What would you have me do then? Throw a sword at him and name him Thane? Maybe hand him a bushel of roses while I'm at it!?"
Nenya gives him a look, "No, none of that. Just give thanks for his service when you have the opportunity. You do give me some ideas though, we are in need of another Thane after old Tsurand passed." she adds, "Maybe we could see if he's worthy of such a title? Even if he turns out to be a fool, having a strong warrior beside you when you journey to Solitude would be a boon."
Dengeir shakes his head, "No, I'd rather have a born and raised Nord take the position."
Nenya crooks a brow with a deceptive grin, "Oh? Then you must have someone in mind then?"
...
The Jarl coughs into his fist and looks away, "I was intended to ask Lohir again, but well..."
Nenya shakes her head, "Well, the way I see it is you either have to find someone else, or pick choose between a foreigner or a dead man who'd likely not trade Sovngarde for it, especially after he refused last time." she says, treading carefully around the subject as the Jarl and Lohir used to be quite close.
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It's the day after Lohir's remains had been recovered, and Michael was awakened with yet another visitor. It wasn't Valdr this time though, instead, it was Ari, she was standing at his door with crossed arms and an unusually firm posture. "Morning, Michael. I'm here to see if you were willing to be present for Lohir's funeral, I know you didn't know him very well, but you more than anyone should be there to celebrate his life."
Michael shakes his head with confusion, "Eh? I only killed a bear though?" he mutters, not really understanding why he should be involved at all.
"You didn't just slay a bear, you avenged him and bested the creature that put him down. By all rights, that's a higher honour than most of us attending have. We all wish for you to be there, and I am sure Lohir would have as well." she offers with a small, tame smile.
Michael brushes a finger over his upper lip in thought, "I'm not really one for funerals..." he utters, realising that he hadn't actually been to a funeral before... "I don't think the mourning and prayers would suit me well..."
Ari gives him a weird look before her brows raise as if she'd had an epiphany, "Oh! You think it'll be like one of 'those' funerals?" she shakes her head, "We're Nords, and we'll sends Lohir off the Nord way... With drinks, music, and tales of his life!" she exclaims while holding out her fist, "You might even be challenged to a few brawls after you tell the tale of how you avenged Lohir!" she explains with a grin, obviously having planned to do such a thing herself.
Michael hums, beginning to like the idea of it the more he heard. Nord funerals sounded less like mourning and more like partying at a nightclub... A Viking nightclub. "I'll... Tell me when it's happening and I'll come-" he starts but is caught off guard when Ari laughs and wraps her arm around his neck in a headlock.
"You'll be coming with me then, because it's starting now!" she exclaims as she begins to drag him out of the inn.
"Ah! Valga! Let the girls know I'll be go-" he tries but isn't able to finish as Ari slams the inn doors behind them... Eh, she got the idea, probably?
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Ari dragged Michael over towards the graveyard, and he was finally able to see many gazebo-looking tents set up just outside of it. Long tables with many chairs were positioned under them, and they'd all been set up around a large pyre.
Under one of the tents Ari was dragging him towards, Michael could see Valdr, Niels, and many people he didn't know already having some drinks... Seemed like they planned to start getting shitfaced by having beer for breastfast...
Michael greeted them all, and the other guests tried to get him to tell them the story of how he slew the bear that got Lohir, but Valdr scolded them, saying that he wanted the story to be told once everyone was present, not before it.
Luckily for Michael and his lazy nature, he wasn't required to help out with anything else as it'd already been set up. So, instead, he just drank and made small talk with the other people present while they waited for the Priest of Arkay, Runil to arrive.
Soon enough, the High Elf Priest arrived, his long grey hair, sickly parlour with dark bags under his eyes making him look more like a necromancer than anything else. Indeed, Michael was more surprised that these Nords would allow a High Elf to oversee Lohir's funeral.
The man was greeted with great familiarity and respect however, Michael asked about it and Valdr explained that Runil had been with Falkreath for many years, and had helped them a great deal. He'd proven himself different from the other High Elves and Thalmor. Apparently, the people of Falkreath didn't care what race you were, more that you were an outsider and could bring strange traditions, practices, or other things that might alter or damage the Nords own traditions and way of life.
Michael understood it to a degree, despite not having a horse in any race concerning discrimination. It'd be like being wary of vampires moving into your neighbourhood because they have a high likelihood of being bloodthirsty monsters. The Nords weren't overreacting either from what Michael had heard, the Nobility in the Empire of Cyrodil had been continually trying to make changes to Skyrim and the way it operated... Some even attempted to have Jarls removed altogether and replaced with an Empire representative.
These attempts were quickly rebuffed obviously, as such drastic and swift changes would have Skyrim rebel in an instant, not just from the people, but from the rulers and Jarls who'd resist having their positions challenged. Still, the Nords felt their and their ancestor's history were on the precipice of being forgotten.
With this understanding, Michael promised himself to teach the girls about what he'd learned thus far to make sure they wouldn't annoy the locals... At least, not until they moved to the College of Winterhold.
Once Runil was here, he had a small group of the strongest people who were close to Lohir to follow him. Not five minutes later, they returned with a large wooden platform where a huge bear pelt rested, the one that Lohir's remains were stored within. For obvious reasons, it wouldn't be an open casket funereal...
The platform was lowered atop the unlit pyre, and many people made their way forward to lay down flowers and other things atop and next to the bear pelt, some laying down parchments with things written on them, some with delicate wooden sculptures and carvings. Most notably, Valdr stepped forward and laid down Lohir's broken bow, his quiver, and the arrows they had managed to find.
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