Stin

Planning

Xaliyah grunts as she swings her sword at the dummy, aiming for the head or at least the neck. But she drops the sword when it dismembers the dummy's arm. The sound of metal falling onto stone sounds in the room, "fuck," she snaps angrily, kneeling down and picking her sword up. 

"Well, you limited your enemy's attacks, lass," a voice interrupts her as she swings as the midsection of the dummy. She hits the dummy a few times before driving the sword through its chest, a few strands of straw falling out of it, "you okay, lass?" he asks after the scene.

Xaliyah steps back from the dummy, leaving the sword in it as she catches her breath, looking over at Brynjolf, sweat trickling down her face, "I'm fine," she mutters, using her sleeve to wipe the sweat away as she sits down on a nearby stool, "I think," she adds, not meeting his gaze as she stares at the floor, "just...how easily the Thalmor attacked Dawnstar, a town full of innocent people, without a single thought of remorse..Bryn, what if that happens to Riften?"

The thought of the Thalmor attacking her home was something she didn't want to think about. It is the only home she truly knew. She grew up on a farm near Whiterun that took in orphans, but it never was the home she yearned for. But she found it in the Thieve's Guild.

"The Thalmor won't attack an Imperial controlled city, you know that,"

She turns to look at him, shaking her head slightly, "it won't be Imperial help much longer," she explains and sees his confused look, "Ayla plans to free Riften from the Empire and return it to Stormcloak control," she explains further, running a hand through her hair as she stands, "that's a good thing in and of itself, yes. But that opens up the door to a Thalmor attack," 

Brynjolf just stares at her, taking in the completely different demeanor she is in. She completely abandoned her confident, bubbly personality that the entire Guild loves and replaced it with an anxious and worried Xaliyah. He feels like he is watching her lose herself in this war, fighting to protect those who can't be saved, thinking more negative thoughts than positive ones.

He feels like he is losing her.

So he takes five steps towards her and wraps his arms around her, holding her tightly against his chest and resting his chin on her head. Brynjolf feels her arms move to rest on his chest, waiting a few seconds before each of her hands grabbing a fistful of his shirt as her head rests on his shoulder.

They remain standing there, in the embrace for only a few moments, but it feels like forever. Neither one wanting to it to end but it must. Later. After the attack on Dawnstar, both of them witnessed what the Thalmor are capable and have simultaneously agreed that a group like that has no place in Skyrim.

"I should go help Tal with the funeral preparations," Xaliyah says softly though not stepping out of the warmth of the redhead's embrace. It also didn't help when Brynjolf only tightened his hold around her.

"You need to rest, lass," he points out, moving to step out of the embrace, but her hands tighten their hold on his clothes and pull him back towards her. He lets out a chuckle as he slowly wraps his arms around her smaller body again.

"I know, Bryn," she mumbles into his shoulder, "just...this is helping," he didn't argue after that.

~

"We do not know what Stormcloak asked for her presence for," Athena points out from her spot leaning against the wall next to the doorway leading from the library and into the large war room. She glances over at the other people gathered.

Tal and Xaliyah stand next to each other, studying the large map on the table. Vilkas paces the room, chin in his fingers, while Asteria is reading a few books from the shelves. Brynjolf taps his foot in boredom while Cicero runs his finger up and down the blade of his dagger.