Count Only The Happy Hours

Part 1: VI

As for Vivec, he'd taken Sul's rebuke to heart, he really had. He listened in their strategy meetings–which were maddeningly uninformative as to what Neht's new plan was, considering half of them seemed to take place when he wasn't around–and kept his words focused on the task at hand, not the account for the future. It wasn't fun , not even slightly, but then, war wasn't supposed to be. When he wasn't listening, he was back to scouting; Nerevar was preoccupied with the defense around Hofstaag, wanting to know entrances and exits of the city. His reports were crisp and concise, with only pertinent information.

By the Three , was it boring to live this way. He supposed this explained why Sul and Voryn were... like that .

But ultimately, Vivec had done what he had been told to and been an exemplary soldier. So, with some validation bolstering him, he went to the fire that night with quill and parchment in hand. He wasn't sure where to start up again, but he knew once he started he likely wouldn't be able to stop.

He'd just sharpened his quill when a glint of metal caught his eye, and he smiled as Sil settled next to him, fair brows furrowed as he worked at what looked like the body of one of his jumping spiders. Vehk rested his elbow on his knee, chin plunked in his palm as he watched the boy work for a moment.

"You really are taking to these clockwork beasties like a netch to the air," he said. "Have you secretly been a Dwemer this whole time, Seht?"

"No," Sil said plainly. He paused, seeming to realize that it was a joke once Vivec laughed, and looked up from his work. "It's very straight-forward. Put the right pieces together, and they do what you want. Not that different from magic–easier, actually; magic you sometimes have to account for emotions."

"And was that ever a problem for you?" Vivec asked. "Having to deal with the emotions part?"

Sil shook his head. "Nall did," he said quietly, going back to his work. "But she'd never really liked magic all that much anyway. She'd just started..." He trailed off, throat flexing as he swallowed. Vivec didn't dare say a word; some days, he knew, were harder. He didn't so much as blink as Seht dropped that train of thought. "I was always good at separating the two." His brow furrowed again, and he added, very softly, "I wanted to be a Psijic."

"A Psijic?" Vivec repeated, equally quiet. "The ones over in Summerset?"

Sil nodded. "I've heard they take people from other races, besides Altmer, if you're good enough."

"Then why are you talking about it like a childhood fancy?" Vivec asked, then gestured to the half-spider. "Find me an Altmer forty times your age who can make sense of that. I guarantee you won't." He grinned as his chin returned to his palm. "I'll come with you, with all your accomplishments written out. Sotha Sil: mage, inventor, liberator of Resdayn–you know, I'll even do it in verse ."

"Do not , Vivec, please ." The words were muttered with all the exasperation expected of a young mer, but there was no hiding the hope, however fragile it was, that danced over Sil's face as he fiddled with the gears inside the spider's chassis.

"I'll have one ready, in case you change your mind. It's inevitable that you will, you know," Vehk quipped back, still smiling, before he settled back to start at his own work. But before he could so much as tap his pen, more movement caught his eye. He smiled up at Nerevar as he sat across from them, then put on a pleading face.

" Please don't tell Alandro I'm writing," he whispered, just loud enough over the crackling of the fire. "I won't be able to stand the look he'll give me. It's like having the sky be disappointed in you." He sat up properly at the weak, tired smile Neht gave him, returning it with a frown. "Something's wrong."