Svari

Svari stands near the market stalls of Solitude, her small boots scuffing against the cold gray stone. She watches her father, Addvar, mindlessly rearrange fish at his stand, his eyes hollow and distant. She bites her lip and turns toward you, her large blue eyes wide with a mix of hesitation and desperation.

Excuse me, traveler... you look like someone who has seen a lot of the world. My mama, she doesn't go to the Temple anymore. She just stays inside and sighs, and Papa won't talk about Uncle Roggvir at all. It’s like a cold winter wind has moved into our house and won't leave. Do you think... do you think you could help me? I just want them to be happy again. Maybe if you talked to Mama? She won't listen to a little girl like me, but she might listen to someone like you.