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 14

Jeval had no idea what that meant. But Treads seemed to.

"Tiphannia? I swear, if this is a joke…" Treads warned.

"It's not a joke!" Tiphannia retorted. "I'm not stupid, okay?"

"I'm not saying you are. But how in the world could the Rowenis be with the Twin Lamps?"

Jeval tried to clear his head. "Wait, what are the Twin Lamps?" he asked.

"Abolitionists," Treads said. "The kind that actually does something and breaks the law to free slaves. How do you know this, Tiphannia?"

"Because I heard Satheri's mom mention it. I was at their house… Satheri was upstairs, and I was like… waiting for her to get ready. We were going to go shopping. This was like… a year ago. Her mom was talking about it with her dad. They didn't think I understood. But now I do."

"Does Satheri know?" Jeval asked.

"I don't think so."

But Jeval could tell that Treads didn't believe her. "Why the hell would the Rowenis, of all people, be Twin Lamps? They're in deep with Great House Hlaalu, and last I checked, Hlaalu has a lot of slaves."

"Don't get mad at me," Tiphannia said. "That's just what I heard. If you don't believe me, that's fine. But this is the only thing I can think of to help."

Treads shook her head. "It doesn't make sense!"

"What if we ask?" Jeval said. "Like at this point, how could it even hurt? Worst that happens is that they turn me in, and I'm probably going to get arrested anyway."

"It's hard to believe. The Rowenis have a ton of money. Though, now that I think about it, a lot of their investments are in importing goods to Morrowind. No slave labor in that."

"How do you know?" Jeval asked.

She made a high-pitched hiss. "Because Sera Roweni told me a year ago, hoping I'd be impressed and tell him he was one of the good ones."

"I know… what I heard," Tiphannia said.

"Okay, okay," Treads said. "Tiphannia, if I went over to the Roweni house to ask them about this, would you go with me?"

"I have work. But fine. Just make it fast."

"Jeval, stay here. We're going to talk with Sera Roweni and see what's up. I have no idea how they'll react to this."

He nodded. "Okay. Good luck."

Watching the two girls go, Jeval slunk down behind a barrel and hoped that no one would find him.

*********

Treads couldn't have been gone for more than an hour, but it felt like forever. Jeval jumped to his feet when she came back, carrying a blue cloak under her arm. He couldn't read her expression that time, and he braced himself for the worst.

"What'd they say? Where's Tiphannia?" he demanded.

"They are with the Twin Lamps, and they might help."

"Might help?"

"They're rich Hlaalu, what do you expect? Ulnar said you should come by the Roweni house during sunset but before nightfall. If there's a potted black rose by the front doorstep, you can go in and they'll help. If there isn't one, then don't go in because they'll turn you over to the guards if you do."

"[censored]." One way or another, he'd have to keep a low profile for this day.

Treads continued. "It turns out that Tiphannia can remember just about every little thing she's ever heard. That's how we wore down the Rowenis into admitting they were with the Twin Lamps. Tiphannia knew so many other random details that they couldn't deny it. Restoring her might have created a monster."

"Huh."

"She left for work right after. Think she's helped us all she can."

"It is a lot of help," he said. "Was Satheri there?"

"No, she was doing some temple thing. Hope she's handling all this okay. Oh, and Ulnar told me to give you this." She handed him the cloak, the blue wool fabric stained and threadbare. "People will be looking for the netch leather cloak. Which we should probably put farther away."

Jeval donned the new cloak and put up the hood, not feeling much more secure. Treads took the old cloak and jogged off, returning a while later without it.

"I put it by the river. Don't think anyone saw me. Hopefully, that'll mislead people."

"Thanks. What now?"

"Just wait. I wonder if we should be in Labor Town. There aren't usually beggars in this part of the Commercial District. Dammit, I don't know anything about being a fugitive," she said, shaking her head in frustration.

"I'll sit tight. You can go home."

Treads thought about it a bit. "I'll check in with my mom and dad, but I'm coming back."

"I don't want you to get in trouble for me."

"Yeah, and I don't want you to get in more trouble, period. It's like I keep telling my dad: None of us is safe when things are this screwed up. And nothing's ever going to get better if we keep pretending that things are okay."

She departed. Jeval slunk into the shadows, trying to make himself invisible behind the barrels. One nice thing about being small: it was a lot easier to hide.

It was at around noon that he heard a commotion in St. Roris Square. There was shouting and chatter, which was normal, but there was also chanting. Loud, droning, chanting. Curious, he got up on legs numb from being in one position for too long, and went to the mouth of the alley.

The priestess he'd seen at the temple, Muthsera Sadri, stood on a crate in the middle of the square. Acolytes and a few guards stood around her, and there were a ton of Dunmer all around. Some of them knelt on the flagstones, some of them chanted and raised their arms in the air, others just waited. There were outlanders, too, all looking as confused as Jeval felt.

Then Sadri spoke.

"I come to you in the spirit of revelation. For our gloried lord, Vivec—Holy Vehk—has revealed a new truth unto us! The outlander known as the Nerevarine… "

Her voice shook. She paused to take a deep breath.

"… the outlander called the Nerevarine is indeed Lord Indoril Nerevar reborn! Garbed in new flesh, the hero of old Resdayn has returned to restore Morrowind. Three houses and four tribes call the Nerevarine hortator, as the prophecy approaches fulfillment. Now the Nevervarine prepares to march on Red Mountain and slay Dagoth Ur!"

The Dunmer in the crowd erupted. Screaming, crying, beating the ground with their fists.

Jeval didn't get it. To him, the gods were something you worshipped just as a practical thing. He'd never seen anything like this for religion. Like waves of power emanating from the crowd in that square.

The outlanders in the crowd backed away.

"Stay true to ALMSIVI! Stay true to the Temple! Morrowind shall be restored!"

Jeval slunk back into the alley. He didn't know what that meant for him or his family. When Dunmer talked about the glory of old Morrowind, they usually meant it as a place for only the Dunmer and their slaves.

Not people like him.

Did the Nerevarine being an outlander make a difference? No way to know, he supposed.

Balmora had felt practically deserted the past few days. But now it was packed. All the Dunmer who'd been hiding rushed out onto the streets, chanting and praying. The Commercial District was so noisy that Jeval felt like the entire town had turned into some enormous temple sanctuary.

Treads returned at midafternoon, her eyes a little wild. She carried some bread and a full waterskin, which they split between them.

"It's crazy out there," she said.

"Did anyone hassle you?"

"No. Actually, this whole Nerevarine thing might be good for us. They're so focused on it that they won't notice you. I just hope the Rowenis aren't too caught up in it to help."

"Same."

They waited in that narrow alley while Balmora went crazy all around them. Smoke from burning incense filled the skies, so it almost felt like last year's riot all over again. But through the haze, he saw the sun reddening as it descended into the west.

Soon, he'd know.

"Time to see if they'll help."

Jeval walked out of the alley, standing on tip-toes to look a bit taller and making sure the blue hood covered his features. Treads followed close behind. A column of Dunmer slowly moved through the street, carrying a big litter with a statue of some saint or god.

No one noticed them.

The Roweni house was nearby. Jeval steeled himself as he got close. His whole future depended on the presence of a black rose. If it wasn't there? Then he'd just have to wing it. Try to escape or accept arrest.

It helped knowing that he'd do it all again if he had to. Saving Treads made it worth it. Because he knew she'd do the same for him.

"It's there!"

Treads had seen it first. A little blue vase lay outside the Roweni door. Something (probably a passing pilgrim) had toppled it, but there was still a black rose inside.

Maybe he'd go free after all.

This post has been edited by WellTemperedClavier: Jul 12 2025, 06:03 AM