Teresa of the Faint Smile, Adventures of a Stringy Bosmer Options

[SubRosa]

Hi all, welcome to Teresa 2.0. Some of you may recognize the stringy wood elf this fan fic is about from another forum. I am going to start reposting her adventures here. However, I have taken this opportunity
for a fresh start to go back over the story and do some work on it. Starting with an entirely new scene, which you see below.

I have decided to give up the idea of breaking things up into separate Acts like I did with Not A Hero and Moving Through Darkness. It was probably a little confusing. Instead I am just going to go with a single title and let it go on as long as it needs to, hence the new name.

You will also find that the first half of what used to be called Not A Hero has been heavily edited. Hopefully an improvement! The rest of the story will also receive a facelift, although generally not as great. There will probably be a few more entirely new chapters turning up between some of the old ones as well. So this is not the same story you might have seen on the other forum.


For people new to the TF, you might find it easier to catch up with the cliff notes version in the spoiler tags below:




* * *

Chapter 1 –Warning

12th Second Seed, 3E433

The harsh croaking of a raven prompted Teresa to raise her green eyes from the only slightly bruised apple that she was eating. The alley behind the Tiber Septim Hotel was narrow, a thin gouge cut between massive stone buildings that loomed high to either side and cast its depths into dim shadow. Sacks filled with trash dotted the length of the lane, clustered in small islands near the back doors of every business and home.

The pale wood elf stood at one such mound of garbage, filled with slops and other castoffs. Rich people threw away the best food, she knew, making the back streets here in the Talos Plaza district a practical gold mine for street urchins like herself.

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Her scavenged lunch fell from suddenly nerveless fingers however, as she gazed down the alley and saw the figure of a man running in the shadows. He was clad in plain linens, the clothing of an ordinary plebeian. But there was nothing ordinary about the way he held a drawn sword in his hand, nor the blood that stained it.

Before the elf could bolt and run herself, the interloper was upon her. Now she could see he was an Imperial by his olive skin and dark hair. He reached out to her with his free hand, and as Teresa backed away she realized that it was not only his sword that was washed in blood, but the front of his tunic as well.

"You must warn them!" the Imperial croaked through the blood that flowed from his mouth. As she stared with wide eyes, Teresa was certain she could see tiny bubbles of air bursting up from the red flow. She had seen that before, from deep knife wounds to the chest. He was a dead man, she thought, he just did not know it yet.

His hand clutched at the shabby tunic of worn sack cloth that Teresa wore, grabbing a handful of the rough material. Teresa nearly jumped as his fingers pressed against one of her breasts. The sword fell from his other hand with a clatter of steel on stone, and the Imperial dropped to his knees, collapsing into her.

Teresa stared with wide eyes at the dying man, whose head was now buried in the valley between her small breasts. Her heart raced like a wild horse, and she felt her skin grow cold as Skyrim. Try as she might to flee, her feet seemed rooted to the spot however. All she could do was gape in growing horror as the man clutched at her willowy frame and spat blood over her already bedraggled clothing.

The sound of footsteps caused her to lift her eyes and gaze back down the way the Imperial had come. There stood a handful of figures wearing dark red robes, nearly black in the dim light. Hoods of the same material covered their heads, shrouding their faces in darkness. She saw blades in their hands as well. Not mortal steel, but rather monstrous, wavy knives, like the jagged teeth of some fearsome Daedra.

"They're going to kill the-" with that the Imperial's voice gave out, and she heard a rattling noise issue from his throat. It was like a dry breeze through an abandoned tenement. Then he fell limp at her feet, open eyes staring blankly back up at her from the pavement.

"Hey, what's going on back there!" came an iron growl from the other end of the alley. The clash of armored boots rang out between the high buildings, reverberating in the Bosmer's ears. Wrenching her gaze from the dead man, Teresa turned to see an Imperial Watchman charging down the alley toward her, dark eyes glittering like polished ebony within the 'T'-shaped slit in his full-faced helmet.

"You there! Put down your weapons and surrender." The legionary had his arming sword out now, and before the wood elf knew it, he was standing before her. He took a moment to first glance down at the dead man at Teresa's feet, and then the blood that washed her tunic.

"I didn't-" Teresa gasped, feeling her blood turn to ice with the understanding of how things must look to the watchman. Then the steel gauntlet of his left hand was reaching out for her, and the words slipped from her throat.

"You'll hang for this street meat!" the legionary growled.

With that Teresa finally felt her body come back under her control. Twisting away from watchman's grasp, she sprang for the other end of the alley. Her eyes saw that the red-robed figures were gone now. Then her view swam as her foot caught upon the corpse of the Imperial. She felt herself falling, and her head slammed against something hard as she came to a stop.

Her vision narrowed, as if she were within a tunnel. She was vaguely aware of the thin, blue slit of the sky above her, flanked by the grey stone of buildings to either side. She thought she saw a dark bird spread its wings in that sliver of light. But then the shape dissolved, and turned into the steel helmet of the legionary, looming closer and closer. Finally, darkness consumed her.

This post has been edited by SubRosa: Jul 30 2020, 01:31 AM

[SubRosa]

D.Foxy: Well, if you meant fight a fish, that is coming up...


haute ecole rider: I was wondering how many people would spot that phrase. It was actually in the original, from long before I had ever heard of my most favorite Redguard from Anvil. But when retooling this chapter could not restrain a faint smile. Talk about serendipity.


Destri Melarg: Thank you Dest. I tried to portray Weynon as not only a chapel and chapter house, but also an entire infrastructure of peasants who kept the place going, growing all the food, tending the livestock, working in the smithy, etc... I also wanted to present it not only as a holy site, but also show that it was well-fortified due to its being the regular headquarters of the Blades.

"Could'a, would'a, should'a" is a quote I know best from Farscape. In fact, I think there was even an episode by that name. Since then it has always stuck with me.

I have not seen much at all about Uriel VII's wife. I am not sure if she is even alive at the time of the crisis. What I did see was not at all flattering. They way they portray her, she was a cold, viscous creature who would drive the most virtuous man to infidelity. Given that, I am sure that she would have any bastards she found out about assassinated. In fact, I have often toyed with the idea that Nerussa was one of Uriel's mistresses, and the Empress is the one who ran her out of the courtesan business.


* * *
Chapter 5a - Gone Fishing

24th - 31st Second Seed, 3E433

Teresa's journey back to the city was uneventful. Once again she stayed off the road and walked east through the forest, traveling mostly at night. She found the going was easier this time, as it was literally all downhill. Once more she gathered plants with alchemical properties as she went. A bear followed her for a short distance, but a use of her Command Creature ability convinced it that she was a friend, allowing her to easily slip away from it.

A week later she once more found herself on the western shore of Lake Rumare. She could not pass up the opportunity to strip off her gear and dive into the water. She had always liked to swim, but ever since her escape from prison it had become her special treat. It felt almost as if the water could wash the muck of her past away, and allow her to emerge from its depths a completely new person. Afterward she dried herself in the morning sun and laid down to sleep.

* * *

She was standing in a large cavern whose rough stone walls were carved out by the forces of nature. Shadows clung to the walls of the cave, the darkest of which were smaller tunnels leading further into the bowels of Nirn. Before her the cavern was open to the sky. Sunlight beamed through the gaping hole, illuminating the center of the chamber in golden light. Beneath this Teresa saw a large pool of water, whose crystal clear waves held a small forest of marine plants.

She had been here before, the wood elf knew. It was the same dream again. As before, she stepped into the light of the sun, feeling its warmth fill her. Then she sat, sliding her bare legs into the clear water. It too was warm against her skin, and she watched how the light bent the image of her legs as she gently kicked them back and forth under the waves.

Now it was time for her to look up. Doing so, she saw the dark figure across the pool from her. Standing at the edge of the shadows, she wore not a cloak, but rather was covered in black feathers from head to toe.

Still, Teresa's breath caught in her throat, and she quickly pulled her legs from the water. Leaping to her feet, the wood elf stared at the other woman. Yet the dark figure did not move. Teresa was still not sure if she even breathed.

The wood elf took a step forward. Who was this woman? she wondered. How was she in her dreams? The figure turned as Teresa approached and began to raise her head. The wood elf reached out her hand, and her fingers touched the soft down of the stranger's hood, pulling it up and away.

Within, she saw her own face staring back at her.

* * *

Teresa woke with a start. How many times had she had that same dream? she wondered. Half a dozen times? More? Every time she seemed to get further, to learn more, yet always it slipped away from her memory. This time she willed herself to remember, and wished she had something to write down what had happened.

It was her own face in the cloak of feathers, she thought. It was herself, standing on the edge of the shadows, looking back her. What did that mean? Was she going mad? Or was there some deeper meaning behind it all?

Out of the corner of her eye, she spied a raven flying past. Lifting her head, she saw it winging south, along the shore of Lake Rumare. She was not sure why, but somehow the bird reminded her of the woman in her dream. Of me, she mentally corrected herself, for she was the woman in her dream.

Yet the other figure she saw had seemed like someone else, the wood elf mused as she followed the raven's path. It had definitely felt like there was another presence in the grotto with her. Not frightening, she realized, only different. Somehow she had the feeling that it had something to do with the ravens and crows she had been seeing lately, as if they were somehow guiding her.

Watching the bird as it winged its way ahead of her, Teresa found herself wondering what it must be like to soar through air as it did, free of all constraints. She closed her eyes, and for a moment she could almost feel the wind on her face, and hear the rustling of feathered wings beneath her.

With a faint smile she opened her eyes and followed the raven. The wood elf eventually came upon a small village of daub and wattle homes near the great western bridge to the City Isle. The sign on the road leading into it said it was named Weye. The sun had set some time earlier, so rather than pushing on to the Imperial City she decided to stop for the night.

In the center of the hamlet stood a building larger than the others. The lower half of its walls was of small stones, and the top of daub and wattle like the other buildings in the village. A roof of thatch covered its two stories, and the large sign in front proclaimed it to be the Wawnet Inn.

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The common room was small, but the patrons were few. Teresa had no troubles finding herself an empty table and sat back over a glass of wine and a handful of fresh bread and Argonian olive oil. She had never drunk wine before Weynon, but ever since then she had been thinking about how lovely it had tasted. The Wawnet Inn's fare was not as exquisite as that of Jauffre's table, but it still tasted delicious after days of nothing but water.

The innkeeper was an Altmer woman named Nerussa, dressed in soft blue velvet. Her hair was a halo of golden sunlight, and her eyes a darker shade of amber. She had all the curves that Teresa lacked, and used them to deadly effect with every step she took. Teresa could barely take her eyes off the high elf, and every time she walked by the wood elf reveled in the gentle scent of lavender and pomegranates that followed in the statuesque woman's wake.

Teresa wondered what such a woman was doing in a simple hamlet such as Weye? Surely, Nerussa was from noble blood? the wood elf imagined, or at least a wealthy common family? What would bring such a person here, serving drinks to farmers and fishermen?

Just another mystery that she would probably never understand, the wood elf reasoned, like the dead thief and goblins in the sewer.

Teresa soon lost track of how much wine she had drunk. In any case, it was enough for her to work up the courage to ask the innkeeper about her wines. That prompted Nerussa to begin talking about how she liked to collect them.

Teresa liked how she kept her hair bound up behind her head with polished little sticks that dangled tiny jewels from their upper ends. It looked very elegant, and showed off the delicate curve of the nape of the Altmer's neck. Teresa wondered how Nerussa did it, and offhandedly fiddled with the unruly locks of her own crimson mane.

"So if you ever come across Shadowbanish Wine, you will be sure to remember me, right?"

Teresa blinked. She had been paying more attention to how Nerussa looked than to what she was saying.

"Yes, Shadowbanish Wine, in the old castles," Teresa replied, trying to remember what the high elf had been talking about. "If I ever find any, I will be glad to bring it to you."

A middle-aged Breton came in a moment later. He wore plain clothing of worn flax, and walked with a noticeable limp. Sitting down at a table next to Teresa, he gave her the same mildly interested glance that the other patrons had when she had entered herself. She got the feeling that they did not get too many Bosmer foresters in Weye.

"Bring me some of that pale ale Nerussa," Teresa heard him say to the innkeeper in that light, almost singing voice that all Breton's seemed to possess. "That'll ease the pain."

"Is that leg still bothering you Aelwin?" Nerussa asked a moment later as she brought him a tall glass of foaming liquid, which did not look at all pale to Teresa.

"Ahh, it still acts up," the Breton man fussed, rubbing his hip. "Never healed right in the first place the priest says, now they can't fix it 'cause it's too late."

"So what are you going to do about those fish?" the high elf asked as she returned to the bar.

"I dunno," Aelwin replied, staring morosely into his glass before downing a mouthful. "I was so close too, only a dozen more to go and I would've been set."

At that point the two of them looked over at Teresa, noticing that she was staring. That is when Teresa noticed that she was staring herself. Feeling like she had just walked naked through the Market District, she instantly lowered her gaze to her wine while her ghostly white cheeks blossomed a shade of crimson to match her hair.

She emptied her glass in one quick gulp. Feeling a desperate need to escape the common room, she rose and walked not a little unsteadily to the bar. Had she drank that much? she thought. This was only the second time she had wine. She wondered how much really was too much?

"You mentioned you had rooms?" she asked Nerussa, feeling proud of herself for not slurring her words. See, she told herself, she could hold her liquor.

"Yes, there are several rooms upstairs if you would like one," the Altmer replied with a smile that was like the sun breaking from the clouds on a rainy day. Teresa wasn't sure if she was smiling at her embarrassment, or if perhaps she saw something that she liked?

Probably the embarrassment, Teresa decided, taking Nerussa up on the room and passing several coins to her. Walking up the stairs was no challenge to a seasoned forester such as herself; nor was entering the room. Getting out of her cuirass was however, with all of its straps and buckles and laces. In the end she wound up spending the night in it and nothing else. In spite of how Teresa would have liked Nerussa to have come to visit, she was thankful that the Altmer did not.

This post has been edited by SubRosa: Mar 6 2011, 06:38 AM