Meet AZÉLIE

“Hello there Nibbles. How are we doing today? I mean, the same as always I’d imagine. Nevermind the world and what darkness lingers within it. Just as long as you get your head scratches ….”

This conversation and many like it have been taking place between Azélie and me – her all beloved pup. Ever since she had chosen the path of a werewolf she was able to communicate with me truly. Not just having to interpret my howls and barks, whimpers and whines but actually understand them as though they were the spoken word. An improvement to her life indeed, seeing as she did not have many friends. She used to, not anymore though. Throughout adolescence and the ruthless directness of children she had grown distant and reclusive. Only her dogs or well, if she then chooses to take on another form, wolves seemed to understand her.

“It’s not for a lack of trying either, you know. You remember the day I went up to Rikkard and took his head into a chokehold to give that mop he liked to call hair a good scrubbing … “ she reminisced “… not to speak of the time I helped that unthankful lot to get through all of Scalecaller Peak without any reviving necessary. It’s not like Soulgems are just thrown at you these days, is it? Then again, I guess it was time to continue on my own journey. Daggers are for children anyhow. When you’re all grown up – you get to play with swords instead.”

Over time Azélie had learned to hide her big heart, her giving nature and her kindness behind a mask of mystique and humor. Carefully curated to fit perfectly into whichever company she deemed to keep. Her only fault was that she is just – too beautiful. Not in the sense of the Argonian Maid, not in the commonly perceived sense of beauty either. Being a Bosmer, she was always on the smaller end of things, however her mother had given her just the right proportions to attract much more than just a hasty look while passing by.

It’s difficult to describe quite right, since I don’t concern myself with such trivial things. She didn’t want to be. Beautiful that is. In fact she hated it. It got in the way. In the way of true connection, in the way of people actually appreciating who she was rather than how she looked.

Have you ever tried forming a lasting, platonic relationship when the girls are frightened you could steal their man and the boys don’t see past your physique? Not as easy as most would think, I’d imagine. Beauty can be a curse. Particularly in a society in which everyone needs to trump the next person somehow. Everyone is trying to be the prettiest and everyone is trying to fit that one particular build, which is currently in high demand. Sorcerers such as The Faceskulpter are figuratively drowning in work at the moment. A genuine soul, a kind heart and a well mannered behaviour with deep rooted values and convictions means nothing in a world ever changing. You’d think Valenwood would be different, but parents are disputed, traditions altered and opinions formed without knowing the whole story.

Same with Azélie, she had always had an understanding for everyone else’s feelings. Yet no one seemed too concerned with hers. I guess everyone has their own problems.

“I did find a way to earn a living though, thank Hircine I figured that one out. Who would’ve thought I would ever forsake the light of Y’ffre and turn my gaze elsewhere? To a daedric lord no less, I mean not just for good luck, but as a savior? A savior, now I am making myself laugh seeing as Hircine was the one to not only ask a father to sacrifice his daughters and upon denial turn them all into trolls but then also see the need to bury them alive. Thinking of it now, I did leave Valenwood to find a more accepting home. What a coincidence it should be Bangkorai, the place where that horrific Story took place. Sometimes I wonder if Hircine used to be just like me – and just like me – got turned into a monster. By ridicule, mockery and rumors.”

Sometimes I wonder if all of this theatrical talk is really necessary. Then again I was not in her shoes. I did not experience the loss of a perceived friendship. I did not experience growing up with the impression of knowing true companionship and community and then losing it all just because I grew up. Much less because of which genetic traits I inherited. Laughable to think that would be possible. Unthinkable in a different time.

“Oh well, we all make our mistakes. But being able to have a real friend in you is definitely worth the trouble that comes with my choice! And I have yet to know an animal which is deceitful. Since I can’t talk to snakes I would’t know.” She chuckled.

A rare occurrence. A true laugh was almost never to be heard. Seeing as her humor was very dark and dry. She chose it in order to make fun of any dire situation. One does hear that people who have been hurt the most laugh the loudest. But for all her aches she didn’t really laugh. Not until the change happened. Now she laughs with me. I mean, I am a funny guy after all.

“Now did I ever tell you the story of how I got this house? I don’t think I did. It wasn’t long before I found you in the depth of Shadows. I took it!” She said gesturing a Maomer and sitting up straight. I have always loved her way of telling enthusiastic or heroic stories. She does the Voices and everything. It almost makes me feel as if I was there myself. And I don’t think that is an ability that comes with being a sorceress.

“This used to be an Inn, you know? A grumpy old landlord had a maid situated in it and would send mostly merchants or scholars to live in it. I was busy in the nearby Dwemer ruins those days and passed by often. So I got to know the maid a bit. She always seemed so very busy. Yet she always had a song on her lips and time for a quick chat with me. One day, the maid walked out of the house with a small bundle of things over her shoulder as if to embark on a journey of sorts. I was curious, but she didn’t stop to exchange even just a couple of words that day. She just moved on and in passing I noticed her crying ever so softly. Poor thing. I felt sorry for her – only briefly though as my pity soon turned into anger towards whomever would make such a sweet lady cry. Little did I know it was the grumpy Innkeeper.”

Azélie got up and went into the kitchen. I knew what this meant. Foodtime!!! Yes, I am all for that! Kind of difficult to concentrate on a story when food is being prepared, but I will do my best to listen. I wonder what she will prepare. We did hunt in the Archives of Hermaeus Mora yesterday. It might be that Twilight I helped finish off. Or maybe the bull which had my fluff scorched. Or maybe it was that flying thing that knocked me half way back into the shadowrealm – something, something “racer”?

“Are you still paying attention?” She said smiling at me leaning down with her hands stemmed into her waist. Of course I wasn’t paying attention. There was food involved. What in Hircine’s name would be more important than the fruits of our hunt? Anyhow, I have to listen.

“As I was saying, the lady was crying and I didn’t know why. Until I heard the Innkeeper rant to himself about how ‘this disrespect would be following him around til the end of his days. How he could never recover from an audacity like this.’ I obviously could not believe it. The young lady was always very polite whenever she conversed with me. I didn’t feel like talking to the rusty old Breton so I went about my day. Now later on in the Tavern is when I heard something strange. The old man had sat down in a fairly big round of people. The game named ‘Tales of Tributes’ was in his favor so he had ordered one round after the next. A bold move, I thought, since he had just lost his maid and the house must have been too messy to rent out again. I was sure of it. I sat down at the table, throwing my figurative hat into the fold.” She flung her pearl mask onto the bed and jumped onto it after. Stretching out on the sheets she leaned in and as if to plan a crime she continued: “Whilst sitting at the table he continued to drink, got louder and louder and started sharing what the maid had done. One of his clients had seduced his maid and when she was with child left her behind. The client had asked the Innkeeper to ‘handle it’, as he was already betrothed to a rather high ranking Altmer in Alinor. Now it was my turn to play. I was not a good player, barely knew the rules and so he won – which was going according to my plan. Since he was drunk and overly confident in his abilities I asked him with my sweetest voice and biggest puppy dog eyes – you know the ones – if he would be so kind as to grant me the chance to win back my belongings in a duel. Little did he know … “ She flung one of her daggers into the air and caught it pinching the blade between her fingertips, grinning at me. “ … that I had earned to be called Bloodletter long ago!”

Sometimes I can see a sparkle in her eyes, the kind of sparkle I see in my companions when we are about to pounce onto our prey. She is full of bloodlust and I think although she isn’t sure of herself most days and needs a steady hand to hold – she is stronger and more courageous than most.

“With a swift flick of my dagger the match was over. All his belongings: mine. As was his life, for he was playing with anothers.” Her grin grew wider, staring at the ceiling. What else is there for a dog to wish for, than a strong leader of the pack. And strong, my friends, is what she is.