The Last Days of the Fashion Club Options

[WellTemperedClavier]

Chapter 1

A single lock of blond hair fell down on Jeval's brow, just a little left of center. He zeroed in on it, seeing his black eyes reflected back at him in his mom's polished brass mirror.

Is this what he wanted?

Because that little lock said a lot. It changed the image he'd sported for the past three years, made him look more daring, more relaxed. Not some kid any longer, but a man. Or at least a guy. A guy girls would want (he hoped). He'd already fixed up his outfit to reflect that: undid the two top buttons, loosened the threads around the cuffs. Enough to make him look chill without looking messy.

Quinn worked magic with this kind of thing. Jeval wasn't as good, but he'd picked up some tricks from her, things like how to take a tunic or a collar and get it to tell the story you wanted it to tell.

"Jeval, are you still at the mirror?" came his little sister's voice.

"Yeah, obviously," he said.

"Mom, I need to use it!"

Jeval sighed. Okay, he had to figure this out pretty quick. He brushed the lock to the side, giving the bare brow look one more chance.

"Jeval! Why in the world do you need to spend so much time grooming yourself?" Mom demanded, her voice carrying up from the kitchen, where she was busy heating up yesterday's stew for breakfast.

He turned his head to the door, where his sister Seleynia glared at him, and spoke over her. "Because looking good is important!"

Screw it. He didn't need this. Jeval let the lock fall, studied himself one more time, and stepped back.

"All yours, sis," he muttered.

"Weirdo," she muttered back.

He ambled down the adobe stairs and into the cramped kitchen. Mom looked at him through the steam rising from the big cookpot.

"Jeval, I know you want to look good, but isn't it a little odd for a man your age to spend that much time at the mirror?"

Jeval shrugged. "Shouldn't a man my age look good?"

Not like he had much choice. Skinny little Bosmer guys weren't exactly in high demand among girls in Morrowind. He had to make the most of what he had.

"A man your age should be working at a trade."

"I have a job!"

"Cleaning tables isn't a trade, Jeval. And you spend all your money on clothes and cosmetics!"

"Are you kidding me? I stretch every septim I get. Meanwhile, Seleynia breaks the bank each time she goes to the market—"

"Clothes are important for girls. They shouldn't be so important for you."

"Yeah, well, I dunno how to break this to you, but this isn't Valenwood. In Morrowind, people expect you to look sharp."

"Always good to look sharp!" Dad declared, stepping in from the street. He'd just come back from a big courier job to Gnisis the other day.

Dad pointed to his horns and flashed a file-toothed grin.

"Yeah, see?" Jeval said. Not like Dad didn't have his own agenda on this. But right now, Jeval would take whatever help came his way.

Mom frowned. "It's strange for a boy to spend that much time in front of the mirror. That's all I'm saying."

"You say that now, but just wait until he brings home some gorgeous Dunmer girl from a rich family. I bet he'll punch above his weight. Same as his old dad," Dad said, leaning in to give his wife a quick peck.

She rolled her eyes but smiled as she did it.

"You staying for breakfast?" Dad asked.

"No, I gotta work. Then I'm hanging out with my friends."

"Good, good."

Okay, he was free from them until late evening.

"Let's walk a bit," Dad said.

Or not.

Jeval and his dad entered the street outside their home, packed with the midday crowd. The autumn sun shone weakly above Balmora's sprawl, all its hundreds of brown adobe boxes and the thousands who lived inside them.

Jeval picked up the pace. He wasn't mad at Dad or anything. Just kind of didn't want to talk to anyone.

"Uh, no offense, but I might be running kind of late."

"We can jog," Dad offered.

Dad was a courier, so yeah, that'd be a cinch for him. No avoiding this parental conversation.

"Have you made any friends at work?" dad asked.

"I'm usually the only guy there my shift," Jeval lied.

"So still hanging with Quinn and the other girls?"

Jeval's heart sank. He knew where this was going. "Yeah. What's wrong with that?"

"Nothing! Having friends who are girls is a good way to get girlfriends. But you've never dated any of them? Quinn, Satheri, uh… Tiphannia?"

"Uh, no. It'd be kind of weird." But even as he said it, he felt the warmth creep into his cheeks. Since yeah, he still kind of wanted Quinn. Not as much as he used to, but the feeling never totally went away.

"Don't get hung up on her, Jeval. There are a lot of girls out there. I'm sure Quinn can introduce you to someone. You're not interested in, uh, Treads, are you?"

"No," Jeval said, squeezing the word out between his clenched teeth.

"You do spend more time with her than the others. Look, I know things are done differently outside of Valenwood. And I'm open-minded. I'm just… not sure there are good long-term—"

"I'm not attracted to Argonians. She's not attracted to Mer. That's why she's my best friend. We can just chill."

"Okay, I believe you," Dad said, in a tone that suggested he did not, in fact, believe his son.

They turned the corner, going along the riverside market packed with the morning crowd. The thick and sour smell of roasting kwama rose from dozens of outdoor grills, mixing with the damp riverbank air. The Odai flowed thick and black beneath the Foreigner's Span, swollen by the recent rains. Nearby, a Dunmer priestess stood on a crate, denouncing the cult of the Nerevarine.

"Stay true to the Tribunal and the Temple teachings!" she proclaimed. "Heed not the lies from the House of Troubles, who take the memory of blessed St. Nerevar and twist it to their own foul ends!"

Jeval had been hearing a lot about the Nerevarine lately but didn't get what it was about. Something to do with an old prophecy that the Tribunal Temple didn't like. But he wasn't a Dunmer and he didn't worship the Tribunal, so whatever.

"What about coming with me on my next trip?" Dad asked.

"Huh?"

"You know, go with me on the job. You don't want to be serving drunks at the Lucky Lockup for the rest of your life."

Jeval thought about it a bit. Working as a courier would be interesting, at least. He didn't know if he wanted to hike that much. But he'd get used to it, right?

"Uh, maybe. When's your next job?"

"Don't know yet, but not long from now. I think you'd be good. Just have to build up your endurance. And I know all the tricks: how to figure out if a storm's coming—"

"Lift a finger to the wind and see if it's going to push the dark clouds toward you," Jeval said, remembering the many stories Dad had told him about his adventures on the road. He used to love those stories as a kid.

Hell, he still did.

"—how to negotiate with bandits—"

"Give a little cash to make them happy, but never let them corner you or take your cargo."

"—and why you should never camp out in an ancestral tomb."

"Because you'll get cursed or killed."

"Of course, you can always get un-cursed. But getting un-killed isn't usually an option. Sounds to me like you're ready for the job."

Jeval chuckled. Dad had charm. Jeval wished he could be like that.

"Can I think about it a bit?"

"Sure, but not too long. It's been months since you graduated. It's fine to rest a bit, but you have to keep moving forward."

"Uh huh. I know."

They turned the corner again, keeping some distance between them and the Council Club, where Dunmer gangsters glared down on them from the roof. The Lucky Lockup, haven to outlanders and weirdos, lay right next to it.

"Have a good one, son," Dad said.

"Yeah, you too," Jeval said.

He'd spend the rest of the day scrubbing corkbulb tables and serving drinks to rude people from all over Tamriel. At least he'd look better doing it.

He hoped.

This post has been edited by WellTemperedClavier: Jul 12 2025, 05:38 AM

[WellTemperedClavier]

Chapter 3

Jeval always liked going to Silk-hawker's Street. It was the most colorful part of Balmora, what with all the streamers in reds, blues, violets, and more going between the buildings and tumbling down the walls. Adobe brown wasn't bad, but you got sick of it after a while. The place had plenty of great clothes from Cyrodiil, too, though not at prices he could afford.

It was still early in the morning when he arrived the next day, keeping an eye out for Jolda at-Armand. She'd left Drenlyn a few months before him and was already doing some high-level Empire stuff. As high-level as you could get at her age, anyway.

He wondered if she'd even remember him. It's not like they'd talked much.

He spotted Jolda just as she left her house. Jolda had always had a knock-out sense of style. That day, she wore a magenta dress made of fine wool with a black moth-silk coat over it. Stood out without being too loud. Her black hair was still done up in cornrows, but now she'd tied them into a braid behind her head.

"Uh, Jolda!" he called out.

She blinked and looked around. Jeval cursed. She probably hadn't even seen him in the crowd. No point in getting mad; Bosmer weren't easy to see with taller folk around.

He hurried out of the crowd and called out again. That time, she saw him.

"Oh, hi! Jeval, right?"

"Yeah, that's me. Uh, how have things been?"

Jeval wanted to get to the point, but he had to be polite.

"Fine. But with how you ran to me, I'm guessing this isn't just a social visit."

He shrugged. "Yeah, you got me. Uh, you used to work at the Mages Guild, right?"

Jolda nodded. "I interned there for two years. But I'm not with them anymore. Why do you ask?"

Jeval scratched the back of his neck, and then put his arm down. You only scratched the back of your neck when you were confused, and dad had always taught him to look like he knew what he was doing. Especially when he didn't.

"So, I'm doing some research on curses. I think a friend of mine might be cursed. But I don't know for sure. That's why I wanted to ask if you knew anything about that."

"Hm, well, most of my internship was administrative. I don't know that much about magic. Though I do know that technically, what most people call a curse is professionally known as 'attribute damage'."

"Come again?"

"In other words, a curse is a spell that damages a person's traits, like their strength or their speed."

"What about their intelligence?" Jeval asked.

Jolda nodded. "That can also be a target."

"Okay, so I think that's what happened to Tiphannia."

"Oh." Jolda's eyes suddenly got big. "Oh my gosh! I never thought about that. But her behavior is consistent with that kind of spell."

"Can we get like a mage to check her out?"

"Well, the simplest solution is to take her to the Tribunal Temple or to the cult shrine up in Moonmoth. They can fix the damage. It'd be cheaper than the guild, anyway."

"Yeah, but I want to be sure before I tell her parents."

Jolda stroked her chin and nodded. "Yeah, that's a good point. Unfortunately, the guild will charge for that, and they've raised their prices. Again."

"Tiphannia's parents are like, loaded. They can pay if they need. But I want to have a good case, you know? I don't want to sound like an idiot when I tell them about this."

"I get you. How about this? There used to be a book in the guild office that described what happens when intelligence gets damaged. I can go by the guild office now and see if it's still there. Steward Athrys isn't friendly, but she likes my dad, so she'll let me borrow it."

"You'd do that? Thanks, you're really cool."

"Heh. I just think the guilds should sometimes help people the way they were designed to. Come on, let's go."

Jeval fell in next to Jolda as they passed under silk banners in all the colors of the rainbow.

"Uh, so how have things been after Drenlyn?" Jeval asked.

"Really busy. Right now, I'm acting president of the local Young Citizens for a Better Empire chapter, working as an almoner for the Imperial Cult, and organizing my dad's research. I'm also applying for a job at the Hammerfell Mission in Old Ebonheart."

"Dang. I, uh, wait tables," Jeval said with a laugh. "Guess Drenlyn worked out pretty well for you, huh? If you got all that."

"My dad made me—I mean, he connected me with all these jobs. Drenlyn Academy doesn't have many meaningful institutional connections."

"Huh?"

"As in, I'm not sure going there helped people get good jobs."

"That's not true," Jeval said. "Like Quinn, she's governess for the Portollo family."

"Did she get that through Drenlyn?"

Jeval blinked. "Uh, no. Actually, I think she got that through her mom, now that you mention it. But what about her sister? She's with the guild."

Jolda shook her head. "Drenlyn did set Daria up with an internship, but she quit before it was done. She got the actual job through connections she made. On her own."

Come to think of it, no one he knew except Jolda had a great job. Maybe Karl, but he'd already gotten that EEC job through his dad.

"Are you saying Drenlyn was like… a scam?" he asked.

"Legally speaking, no. They did provide some opportunities. Internships, mostly. I know Agrippina got a decent position at the Imperial Historical Society through them. But I don't think Drenlyn helped many people. Plus, they're only legally accredited in Morrowind."

"What does that mean?"

"It means that no place outside of Hlaalu territory will recognize our education as valid. That's why I'm making up for it with all these jobs."

"Huh," Jeval grunted.

They reached Guild Row, the world snapping back to the same drab brown and beige you usually saw in Balmora. Once at the sign with the stylized eye that the Mages Guild used, Jolda motioned for him to stop.

"Just wait out here," she said. "I don't think this will take long, assuming the book is still in the office."

"Cool. I'll wait."

Jolda went inside. Jeval crossed his arms and leaned against the wall to wait, watching all the people walk by. But he kept thinking about what she'd said about Drenlyn. Mom and Dad had spent a ton on the place. Dad had even done some free courier work for then-Director Lli to get a discount.

And what did they have to show for it? A son who waited tables. Maybe it wasn't his fault. But he was kind of amazed his folks weren't pissed at him.

Probably meant it was time to follow his dad into the courier business. At least put some more money back into the family coffers. It scared him a little. On the other hand, life on the open road might be pretty cool. He'd have all kinds of adventures he could tell Quinn about…

Jeval smiled, thinking back to all the times Quinn had talked about starting the Fashion Guild. She hadn't mentioned it in a while. Somehow, the older they got, the farther away it seemed. But hey, crazier things happened, right? As a courier, Jeval would get to know people, make connections, see interesting styles in other parts of Vvardenfell and maybe beyond. All stuff Quinn would need to make it real.

Maybe this was the beginning. Screw Drenlyn. He didn't need that place. None of them had.

Jolda came back with a slender blue book under her arm. The title, embossed in black ink, read: "The Causes and Nature of Attribute Damage." It sure sounded official. And boring.

"Found it!" she said.

"Oh wow, thanks so much!"

She handed it to him. "Look at page 45. I took a quick read when I got it, and it describes Tiphannia exactly. I'm a little embarrassed I didn't think of this before."

"Hey, no one else did until I got a lucky thought yesterday. You really think Tiphannia has this, uh, attribute damage?"

"I couldn't say for certain. But it looks likely. Show this to her parents, and I'm sure they'll pay to have her restored."

"Will do. When do you need it back?"

"The sooner, the better. And please be careful with it. Steward Athrys values her possessions. Highly."

"Got it. I'll try to talk to Tiphannia's folks tonight when I get off work, and then I'll give it back to you tomorrow. Thanks again!"

He hurried off, feeling brighter with each step. Yeah, things were messed up. Maybe he wasn't the tallest, the strongest, or the smartest. But he was sharp. He paid attention to things most people missed.

Jeval was the kind of guy you wanted around. And he was about to prove it.

This post has been edited by WellTemperedClavier: Jul 12 2025, 05:43 AM