Divine Indiscretion

"Uuuuggghhhh..." Michael groans as he wakes up, his head pounding with a fierce hangover. "Urgh, wasn't my passives supposed to heal this?" he questions aloud, only then realising that he was snuggled up in bed with Tiffania. He was holding her in the big spoon position, which is probably why Shadow Dance hadn't been working.

Eventually, he pulls himself out of bed, once up, he goes to wake up Charlotte, her mother, and Illococoo so they could get ready to see Runil. Charlotte's mother is a bit rowdy, refusing to leave the room, but that's solved fairly quickly as Illococoo somehow convinces.

When they're ready, Michael picks up Tiffania in a Princess carry and carries her out of the inn and towards the Hall of the Dead. Fortunately, Runil is present, and crooks a brow at the small group as they enter. "Ahem... Apologies, but usually people not personally carry their dead to me..." he says, glancing at Tiffania in Michael's arms.

"W-what!? She's not dead! Just in a coma!" Michael sputters in both indignation and worry, walking over and gently placing her on a nearby stone plinth. "We're here to see if you can do anything to wake her up!"

...

The High Elf frowns as he walks over and begins examining her, his palms glowing golden as he waves them over Tiffania's sleeping form. Charlotte watches on with rapt interest, her eyes locked onto the unfamiliar focus-less magic.

"Beg my pardon but," Runil starts, seemingly confused by what his spell had found. "What is this girl?... She isn't human, nor is she an Elf... I've never seen anything like it, if the Dominion-er, the Thalmor-" he corrects himself, "Gets word of her, they'd feel honour bound to eliminate her at all costs." he mutters, causing Michael to scowl.

"They can try." he mentally intones before focussing on Runil, "Why?" he asks, surely the elf supremacists would celebrate a new race of elves, right?

"You know the differences between Men and Mer, correct?" he asks, but upon seeing Michael shake his head, goes on to explain further. "We Mer believe ourselves to all be descended from the First-Folk, the descendants of Aedra and the first Elves to arrive in Tamriel. Altmer, Bosmer, Dwemer, even the now fallen Falmer knew this... Though whether or not the latter still remembers is debatable.

The reason why the Thalmor would hold such animosity against your friend here is because, from what I can tell. She holds no resemblance to any elven race in Tamriel, indeed, she doesn't seem to be related to Mer at all. But, I can tell she possesses similar traits to we descendants of Aedra... They would regard her as an abomination and insult to Mer as a whole."

"Did your spell tell you this, or are you just making assumptions?" Michael inquires, hoping to find a way to avoid the Thalmor's attention that wouldn't include cutting Tiffania's ears shorter...

Runil nods, "Both. Her ears match none of the records I know of, and the spell only confirmed it for me. Do not worry, I have no intentions of revealing this information to anyone... I only want you to be careful with what you now know, I wouldn't put it past the Thalmor to take her apart to see what makes her 'tick' as it were."

Michael frowns but relents, knowing that this information could very well help them further along the road. "And her coma?"

Runil's lips thin, "Ah, that... It's strange. A phenomenon I've not ever encountered before. It appears as though all of her Magicka had been pulled out of her, her reserves are slowly refilling, but she'll not awaken until it does. I would suggest using a Magicka Potion to expedite the process, but... I believe letting nature run its course would be for the best. Who knows what would happen if you drowned her in Magicka that her body is steadily adapting to."

Michael lets out a long sigh of relief at the news, smiling as he rests a hand on the top of Tiffania's hand. "So she'll be fine? That's a huge relief, thank you."

Runil smiles back, "I'm glad I could be of assistance. Was there something else you needed?" he asks, glancing to Charlotte's mother who was twitching erratically and looking around with a paranoid expression... Yeah, dragging her through a graveyard probably hadn't sat well with the manic woman.

"Yeah, actually... This is..." he pauses, realising he'd never actually gotten the woman's real name, "Er, Charlotte, what's your mother's name?"

"Maria de Gallia." the short girl quietly answers, not wishing to draw the attention of her mother.

He turns back to Runil, "Her name is Maria, she was poisoned years ago and hasn't been right ever since. To be put it simply, she's lost her mind and barely remembers or recognises anything." he explains.

Runil nods, "I see, well, let's have her sit down so I can take a look at her... If that is possible." he adds, seeing the woman scowl at him as he tries to approach.

It takes a bit of work, but thirty minutes later, Maria de Galia is lying unconscious on a stone plinth nearby the one Tiffania was lying on. Runil went through his usual process, holding his glowing hand above Maria's head. "Hmm, no... That's not- right?" the man says with a frown.

"How is it?" Michael asks after Runil goes silent.

"It is worse than it appears, I'm sorry to say. Whatever poison she ingested has, to put it mildly, caused not a small portion of her brain to atrophy. It isn't within my power to heal, nor do I believe anyone else would be able to do anything to help either. There are limits to what Restoration can do, sometimes we can heal mortal wounds... And sometimes an emperor can fall from his horse surrounded by the most talented mages and still perish. It's in the hands of the gods now." he sadly says while shaking his head.

His solemn expression hits Charlotte hard, but Michael takes something else from his words entirely. "The Gods, huh?"