The Last Days of the Fashion Club Options

[WellTemperedClavier]

Here's the novella I wrote this year as a companion piece to Outlanders. This one actually takes place during the events of the game, and follows Jeval as he deals with the dissolution of the Fashion Club and some pretty big changes in his own life (and in the world around him). I wrote this to explore some heavier themes that I wasn't really able to get to in the main story. It's sixteen chapters long.

Breaking Balmora, or The Last Days of the Fashion Club

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.

“I need to use it! Mom!”

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, swelled 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.

[SubRosa]

Neat, a spinoff series where Jeval becomes a drug dealer in order to pay for his medical bills. Well, something at least.

Jeval is sporting a new Patrick Swayze look, with the errant forelock of hair, and showing off some buff chestage.

Actually I am getting a lot of Saturday Night Fever/Staying Alive vibes from this, as we meet Jeval's family, and their criticism of his investing so much effort into his fit.

Between your stories and Renee's Joan Before Arkay story, I think once I am done with my current run through of Baldur's Gate 3 I might go back to Morroblivion again, with Silverlight this time.

So Jeval might be the guy I see in Skyrim, delivering a new letter to my toons, without wearing any clothes?

[Acadian]

Thanks for giving us your perspective on, and estimated length of, this novella right up front in your comments.

I had thought of Jeval as not much more than a cluelessly hot-for-Quinn J boy, but here you very quickly add a great deal of depth to him. By the end of this episode, I want to learn more of his story and already feel ‘invested’ in him. This promises to be an enjoyable read.

Good to learn that there’s more to his life than Quinn – though I was pleased to see how much he has learned from her. Outward presentation is important, especially for an elf seeking a mate. I like his dad and agree that being a courier could be a pretty interesting career choice.

[WellTemperedClavier]

@SubRosa - I have to admit I actually somewhat regret titling this "Breaking Balmora", since it gives the impression that it's a Breaking Bad crossover. Too late to do anything about it now, but if I were to do this over again I'd give it a different name.

@Acadian - Sure thing! The show character that Jeval is based on (Jamie) is pretty one-dimensional. But keeping him that way felt like wasted potential, so I decided to expand on him a bit throughout the series, and eventually gave him this spinoff.

Chapter 2

“I love what you did with your hair!”

Quinn clapped her hands together and leaned down for a better look at the lock of hair Jeval had let hang over his forehead. Jeval smiled back.

She looked like a goddess. More than that: she acted like one. She always knew what to do, what to wear, where to be. Sure, plenty of stuck-up nobles were the same. But with Quinn, there was always room for you.

Even if you were a Bosmer boy.

“Yeah, you look so dashing,” Satheri said. Her lips turned up in a smile that lasted maybe a second before going back to the worried frown she’d had for the past month. She was a Dunmer, gray-skinned and red-eyed, even though her features were so soft that Jeval couldn’t help thinking she had some human ancestry, somewhere.

Not that he’d ever bring it up, with all the stuff she had to worry about.

“Hair care… is so… like… important…” Tiphannia droned. She wasn’t even looking at him. Tiphannia stood out from the crowd, why shouldn’t she? Keptu-quey like her weren’t common on the mainland. Helped that she was gorgeous, with gleaming straight black hair and delicate little facial features that might even make Quinn jealous.

“It does look good,” Treads said. “Adds a little something extra.”

Treads-on-Ferns rounded out their little group. She was Argonian, which in her case meant vivid scales, mostly dark green and pale green (except for a cobalt band around her neck), a snout, and a long tail.

“That’s what I was thinking,” Jeval said. “Like, I’ve been keeping the same hair for the past few years and that’s kinda sad, actually.”

“Well, if it works it works. That’s the nice thing about hair: you can always change it, and even if it’s not great, it grows back!” Quinn exclaimed.

They were hanging out at the Glass Crown, a nice outlander cornerclub in the Commercial District. Used to be they’d get together every week. Nowadays, it was more like once or twice a month, and not always with the whole crew.

They’d all moved on from Drenlyn Academy back in late spring, and that already felt like a million years ago.

Jeval looked at Satheri. “Hey, Satheri, you said I look dashing: that’s kind of the image I’m trying to go for. Does the rest of the outfit work for that?”

“Um, I think so. What do you think, muthsera?” she asked, looking at Quinn.

“Oh, it totally does! Though…”

Her blue eyes narrowed slightly, the candlelight glinting off her gleaming, coppery hair. Jeval’s heart skipped a beat.

“Pin a flower to your vest. Something bright and bold. Not a stoneflower… I know! A fire petal. That’ll stand out and be a contrast to the cooler colors you use.”

Jeval nodded. A fire petal was perfect. Why hadn’t he thought of that?

Another thing he loved about Quinn: she’d never tell him to buy more clothes, because she knew he didn’t have the budget. She always made her advice fit the person, not the other way around. Quinn was what the Empire was supposed to be.

“Cool, I’ll comb the markets. But yeah, figured the dashing look was better for the ladies,” he said, forcing a laugh at the end. Since he wanted them to know he was interested in girls, but not, you know, interested in a way that’d make anything awkward.

“Any girl would be lucky to have you, Jeval,” Quinn said, and her words stabbed him straight in the heart because yes, she meant it.

Just not for her.

Would it be the same if he was some rich Imperial with a big Heartlands estate? A Redguard who’d gone all over Tamriel and had a crazy story for every situation? An Altmer who knew all the styles going back for eons and then some?

If he were anything other than the shrimpy Bosmer he was?

Whatever. Sooner or later, like Treads had told him more than once, he’d have to move on. He just didn’t want to. Not yet. Because Quinn was still single, and he could still pretend there was a chance.

Gods, that was pretty pathetic, wasn’t it?

“Any chance you know someone?” Jeval asked, mostly because dad was pushing him. But hey, Quinn knew lots of people. Or she used to, anyway, back in Drenlyn.

“I can look around! It’s just harder now. I hardly ever talk to anyone anymore except the Portollos,” she said. The Portollos were rich silk traders who’d hired her as a governess for their kid.

“Fire petals are… so… bright…” Tiphannia said.

“Tiphannia, maybe you know someone that Jeval could date?” Satheri asked. “Most of the girls I know are already in arranged marriages.”

“Huh? I thought… we were talking… about flowers…”

It was weird how Tiphannia always fell behind in conversation. Sure, she wasn’t that smart. But plenty of people weren’t that smart. They didn’t keep getting stuck the way Tiphannia did. There was something weird about her, but he couldn’t put his finger on it.

The five of them chatted as the Glass Crown filled up with the dinner and evening networking crowd. Candles burned bright as the sun set, but the thick adobe walls kept out the damp and the cold. There they were, warm and cozy as always. The world changed, but the Fashion Club stayed the same.

“I should probably get going, guys,” Satheri finally said. “I have to get up early tomorrow for a temple blessing.”

“Oh, Satheri! That’s so sweet. The first of seven, right?”

“Of six, actually. The first three for ALMSIVI, the fourth for the saints, and the fifth for my family, and the last for me. And then, well, I’m off to get…”

She giggled in a high-pitched tone. Her lips trembled.

“… married!” Satheri practically shrieked the word, her hands balled up into fists.

Quinn threw her arms around Satheri and drew her close. “I’m going to miss you so much, Satheri! But we’ll be with you every step of the way. Especially when you plan your dress.”

Tears flowed from Satheri’s eyes now, and she nodded. “Thank you, muthsera. I wish you guys could all go with me.”

“We’ll be there in spirit,” Treads said.

“Definitely,” Jeval agreed. He and Treads looked at each other. Would an Argonian like Treads even be allowed in a Dunmer wedding? But bringing it up would just put Treads on the spot.

If there’s one thing Quinn loved talking about, it was weddings, so naturally they spent more time than they needed going on about it. Jeval zoned out a little; not like he had much to add. But somehow it still felt too soon when Satheri waved a little goodbye and left with Tiphannia. The two practically lived next to each other.

“I’m not that good at reading Dunmer faces,” Treads said after they left. “But even I can tell Satheri’s terrified.”

Quinn sighed. “I know. It sucks. I talked to her dad once about maybe giving her more time, but he said it had already been set up or something. She’s been with me since the beginning! I hope she’ll be okay. At least her husband-to-be is nice.”

“How do you know?” Jeval asked.

“Oh, I asked Mr. Portollo. He’s not a noble, but he works with nobles. And they all say the Lowendral family is nice!”

“But you never met him,” Treads said.

“No, but I know someone who knows someone, and that’s almost as good.”

“Let’s hope so,” Treads replied. “But we all know that you don’t get rich in Great House Hlaalu by being nice.”

“Oh my gosh you guys, relax. Satheri’s mom and dad would not make her marry someone mean!” Quinn said, a little too loudly.

And if they did, it’s not like the Fashion Club could do anything about it. Some days, Jeval felt more like an ornament than a person. Him all decked out in gaudy array: flashy and stylish and useless.

“Uh, changing the subject,” Jeval said, “does anyone know what the deal is with Tiphannia?”

Quinn blinked. “What do you mean?”

“Like why…” Jeval hesitated, searching for a nicer word. “… why she’s so slow.”

“She’s not slow! She just has, like, a way of doing things,” Quinn protested.

“It’s how she is,” Treads agreed. “Every group has one, right?”

“Look, I’ve met people who were, you know, slow. But Tiphannia doesn’t act the same way.”

Quinn frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Okay, this is going to sound crazy, but what if she’s been cursed? Curses can slow you down, make you weak. It happened to my dad once, when he hid out in an ancestral tomb during a storm. And I’m thinking maybe something like that happened to Tiphannia. Not the tomb part, just the curse part. And it messed with her brain.”

“But Tiphannia’s a sweetheart! Who would want to curse her?” Quinn objected.

“Because nothing bad ever happens to nice people, right?” Treads said.

Quinn rolled her eyes. “You know, I don’t even need to miss Daria when you’re around.”

Treads made a quiet hissing sound. It was how she laughed. “I always liked your sister.”

But Jeval wasn’t going to give up. Since if Tiphannia was cursed, like dad said, she could be un-cursed easily. All it took was a trip to a shrine or temple. Plus, unlike Satheri, he might be able to do something about this.

“I’m serious. I think someone, or something, cursed Tiphannia,” he said.

“Maybe she does act a little strange,” Treads concurred. “But when would she have been cursed?”

“Could’ve been anywhere. Maybe back on Cathnoquey, maybe her dad ticked off the wrong guy in the Imperial City, maybe it happened after she got here. She’s moved around a lot.”

“Everyone here’s moved around a lot,” Quinn said.

“Sure. My point’s that we don’t know. Like that’s a lot of time where something could have happened to her.”

Quinn got that so-sure-of-herself look that told the room she was done talking. “Guys, there’s no way Tiphannia’s cursed. If she had been, her mom and dad would have already taken her to the shrine to get it cleared up. Un-cursing is like, super-easy and cheap, so why wouldn’t they? We just have to accept her the way she is.”

Deflated, Jeval nodded. But somehow, he still wasn’t sure.


*********

“I’m telling you, I’m onto something with this curse thing!”

It was nearing midnight. Jeval and Treads-on-Ferns were crossing Duke Vedem Dren Bridge to Labor Town on the other side, where she lived with her family. They walked close, pulling their cloaks tightly around their bodies. It was one of those nights so cold that it sucked the warmth right out of your lungs.

“I don’t know. Seems like a longshot.”

“But you admitted it yourself! Tiphannia doesn’t act the way a—you know—slow person acts. Like she’s slow, but in a different way.”

They reached the other side. A row of grubby adobe homes stared at them from along the riverbank. People placed the torches farther apart in Labor Town so there were these big stretches of night between them. Perfect place to get jumped. Sure, they said Labor Town was safer than it had been before the riot, but he didn’t want to bet on that.

“Maybe. But what do you propose we do? Take her to get uncursed?” Treads asked.

“Let’s ask around a bit, first. Who do we know that’s smart about this kind of thing?”

“Daria. But she’s on the mainland.”

“What about Jolda? She’s smart.” Jeval hadn’t talked to her in ages, but he knew she lived on Silk-hawker’s Street.

“Oh yeah. And hey, she used to work at the guild. She might know.”

“That settles it then. We ask her tomorrow.”

“I have work tomorrow,” Treads said. She worked as a clerk for a riverside warehouse and hated every minute of it. Jeval didn’t blame her.

“Me too, but I can try to talk to her before my shift starts. And then we, uh, figure things out and talk to Tiphannia’s parents. Like they gotta be worried about her, too. She’s been relying on Quinn all this time, but who knows how much longer that’ll last?”

Treads was silent for a bit. “It wouldn’t hurt to check out. I have to admit: the more I think about it, the more I think you might be on to something. Simple stupidity doesn’t explain Tiphannia.”

They were right at Treads’s house when the door swung open and her father, Swims-Slowly-Under-Flowers (“You can just call me Mr. Flowers,” he always said), stepped out.

“Treads-on-Ferns! Why are you out so late?” he demanded.

Mr. Flowers was a big guy. He’d served in the legion and could have been the garrison champ or something. Even now he was a six-foot-three slab of scaled muscle, and in good light you could see the scars criss-crossing his biceps.

“I was out with friends!”

“You shouldn’t be out in Labor Town at night. It’s not safe.”

Treads drew back and hissed, flashing her sharp teeth. “Maybe it would be if the Empire cared about people like us.”

“Treads, it’s dangerous for anyone here, Argonian or otherwise,” Mr. Flowers said.

“Uh huh. I know exactly what you’re worried about, so don’t bullshit me. Dunmer and Imperials don’t have to watch out the way we do, and you know why!”

Mr. Flowers gave a long sigh and rubbed his snout with his thumb and forefinger. “We’ll discuss this later. For now, go inside. Your mother’s worried sick.”

Treads glared at him and disappeared into the house without a word.

“Good to see you Jeval,” Mr. Flowers said.

“You too, Mr. Flowers. Me and Treads were in the Commercial District, mostly. You know, up by the Glass Crown. It’s pretty safe there. We weren’t going through Labor Town.”

“Sure, but she does live in Labor Town, so she has to go through it a little bit to come home. I’m glad she’s with someone. But Jeval?”

Jeval tensed up, not sure exactly what Mr. Flowers would say. “Yeah?”

“Don’t let her stay out so late.”

He didn’t sound mad. But Jeval didn’t think it’d be a good idea to defy him.

“Uh, well, I’ll try. But Treads does what she wants, you know? I’m her friend, not her boss.”

“Just try to get her home earlier. Please. Things are… unsettled right now. Anyway, I’m sure your parents are worried as well. You should get home.”

“I told them I’d be out late. Plus, my dad’s a courier, you know? Think he likes me to have adventures, and stuff.”

“Suppose I can see the logic. But I don’t want my daughter to get in trouble. The Empire protects its citizens, but we’re in a very distant corner of it. And Argonians are not always accepted here. It’ll change for the better, one day. Until then, we have to be careful.”

“Okay. I’ll, uh try.”

“That’s all I ask. You’ll be okay going home? You can spend the night if you need.”

“That’s okay, Mr. Flowers. I’ll be fine.”

“All right. Stay safe, Jeval.”

Mr. Flowers went inside and quietly shut the door. Jeval shivered under his cloak (a nice green number he’d gotten at a great bargain from Clanler’s shop). Behind him, the Odai’s dirty waters lapped up against the levee.

He turned around and started walking back, already thinking of the next day. It had to be a curse. He was sure of it.

This post has been edited by WellTemperedClavier: Oct 8 2023, 04:21 PM

[SubRosa]

If you want to change the title it is not too late. Just let Acadian or I know, and we can rename the thread. Just tell us what you want to call it.

[Acadian]

A dashing new look for Jeval! Bosmer-maids can try to use their diminutive height to try and lay claim to ‘petite’ or ‘cute’ but I’d imagine Bosmer-boyz have a tougher challenge trying to fit in among the tall folk (that would be everyone except fellow Bosmer). Buffy’s heard and been the brunt of every short joke on Nirn we think. And Jeval’s doing his dashing on a budget as well. He’s right – Quinn is uncanny when it comes to tailoring fashion advice to her target, regardless of their situation/limitations.

I find myself once again hoping that Satheri is matched to a worthy mate who appreciates the beauty of her naïve/childlike nature.

Wow, Treads’ dad is a pretty cool dude! I instantly liked him.

An interesting possibility that Jeval raises about Tiphannia. I’d tend to thing that’s ‘just the way she is’, but won’t hurt (hopefully) to check it out.

And SubRosa is right. No problem for either of us to change the title of your thread if you like.

[SubRosa]

Hey, its the Fashion Club! Jeval is right, in that Quinn does use her powers for good, and makes an effort to make everyone else feel seen and appreciated. It is a stark contrast to Sydna (from your writing and the TV show), who only keeps others around as objects she can use, or as an audience to bask in her glory.

Any girl would be lucky to have you
Just not you. Ouch Jeval. I felt that one too. Unrequited love is a most unpleasant experience. But I don't think it is because he's a shrimpy Bosmer.

I think time dilates around Tiphanna, so that it moves more slowly for... her... than... everyone... else.

So Satheri is getting hitched? I wonder if she had had the chance to meet her betrothed yet?

I kind of doubt that Tiphanna is cursed. But, I am looking forward to the hijinks that Jeval gets up to trying to un-curse her!

And a nice walk home with Treads that reminds us of the not so nice fact that not everyone in Morrowind or the Empire is equal, and that some people have a lot more to fear than others.

[Renee]

There definitely is a difference between a man and a guy, at least in American society for sure. Guys are just males, like a common word for males, while men actually stand up and make some sort of a difference. "BE a MAN", we've heard so many times. Same could be said for blokes and dudes and all the other slang-words used for males in English-speaking areas. "Be a MAN, not some bloke from Southhampton!"

There is no equivalent for us women though, is there? 💁 Perhaps here and there someone might say "BE a WOMAN", meaning whatever "be a man" is supposed to mean, but it's never become as much of an actual catchphrase as "be a man!"

How old is Jeval by now? And why would Quinn be able to 'work some kind of magic" at getting him dressed? All of this implies they've had some history, Jeval and the Mall Princess.

Locks of hair falling are hot (imo). As long as it's just that: a lock.

Ha ha this is funny. He's spending all his time on clothes and appearance. Sounds like Jeval is Metrosexual!

Heh, I like dad. Dad's on his son's side. The conversation between them while they jog is awkward and hilarious. Dad also wants to build his son's Endurance. Because son's probably putting all his points into Personality (maybe Luck, maybe a bit of Agility), right?

Actually I am getting a lot of Saturday Night Fever/Staying Alive vibes from this

Exactly, Miss Rosa. SNF is definitely a great movie to check out at some point, Clav, if you haven't seen it yet. Full of guys who aren't afraid to strut their stuff. But beyond that (and beyond the fanstastic dancing scenes) it's just a really good story. It actually has a plot and some themes underlying, and stuff.

And here's a thought. A male friend of mine who used to parade around in colorful clothes, even as he'd occasionally be called "f4gg0t" and such, once told me his reason: in the Animal Kingdom, males are often more colorful than females. I'd actually never considered that at the time. Being an urban hippy in my 20s, this guy often dressed more outlandish than I ever would!

I admit Breaking Bad did cross my mind, which is fine with me. If you want to change the title though, you can always contact the admins! Acadian transferred the entire Joan of Arkay story from the common Morrowind thread to Fan Fiction, for instance. Because I used to be reluctant to post in FF.

Yeah, see, Quinn's got it. Fallen locks of hair are HAWT.

“Well, if it works it works. That’s the nice thing about hair: you can always change it, and even if it’s not great, it grows back!”

As the (male) writer of this story Clav, you've definitely got a pulse on some great fashion tips.

Damn. Quinn can't see what's going on right in front of her, can she? Or maybe can can see Jeval's attraction toward her, but chooses not to acknowledge.

Tiphannia is not slow, just eternally stoned! Anyway, what an entertaining tale this is, Clav. My desire for some Outlanders has been sated.

This post has been edited by Renee: Oct 10 2023, 08:36 PM

[SubRosa]

And here's a thought. A male friend of mine who used to parade around in colorful clothes, even as he'd occasionally be called "f4gg0t" and such, once told me his reason: in the Animal Kingdom, males are often more colorful than females. I'd actually never considered that at the time. Being an urban hippy in my 20s, this guy often dressed more outlandish than I ever would!

He is right about males often being very colorful, and competing to get the attention of females in order to mate. Very often the males a species are the bright and colorful ones, and the females are dull, drab colored in comparison. Take ducks for example.

Jeval is a peacock spider. Though at least Quinn is not going to eat him if his dance is not entertaining enough.

[WellTemperedClavier]

@SubRosa - Thanks for the offer! I think I'll reduce the title so that it's just "The Last Days of the Fashion Club". That gets the idea across.

Part of the reason I decided to write this from Jeval's perspective is to show how beauty (handsomeness?) standards can affect men as well. While I think you're right in this case--him being Bosmer isn't the reason Quinn's not interested in him--he does know that Bosmer men are shorter and skinnier than what the Empire normally considers attractive, and that even if Quinn doesn't buy into that, plenty of other people do. It'd also lead to non-Bosmer men underestimating him.

Satheri's arranged marriage was mentioned a few times in Outlanders, though it never played a big role. The epilogue showed that the marriage was indeed a happy one, though cut short by various world events.

After finishing writing Outlanders, I realized that it did explore the setting from a pretty comfortable perspective. Yes, Daria's an outlander, but she's also Imperial (half-Nord, but close enough), upper middle class, and has a supportive family. While she's cognizant of the problems in Morrowind and the Empire, they don't necessarily affect her the same way they'd affect people like Treads-on-Ferns or Jeval. Hence, me writing this.

Peacock spider is a good match! Or some of those birds in Papua New Guinea, who put on crazy displays. Valenwood might be a place for critters like that.

@Acadian - Thanks! I put a note for SubRosa to change the title.

It's a double-bind for Bosmer. Bosmer women are more likely to match the Empire's beauty standards for women than Bosmer men are for their equivalent. In one of the Outlander episodes, where Jeval and Treads first bond, Jeval actually thinks about this.

Satheri's husband did turn out to be a good guy according to the Outlanders epilogue. Sadly, he did not live for very long due to events post-Red Year.

Treads's dad will show up a few more times in this story. He has a small but important role.

@Renee - Jeval's 18-19 by now, along with the rest of the Fashion Club. He's been with the club for a good few years by now, so he knows everyone in it pretty well.

Ha! I haven't heard that term for a while, but yeah, Jeval probably is.

Jeval's dad is a good guy. He's supportive, but also offers some guidance.

I've not seen SNF, but I've heard that the movie is actually far darker and grittier than its somewhat camp reputation suggests. Yes, the disco might be flashy but it's still within the context of 1970s New York City, and that wasn't an easy place to live in (though more affordable than modern NYC, at least).

Glad you approve of the fashion choices! I kind of went off my gut impression for what would look good. Maybe I have a better instinct for this than I thought.

I think Quinn believes Jeval is over her and just sees her as a friend. All I'll say now is that Jeval himself doesn't quite understand his own feelings here...

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 describes 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 do. 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 when she rejoined the guild after leaving Drenlyn.”

Come to think of it, no one he knew except Jolda had a great job. Maybe Karl, but he’d already been working at the EEC because of 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 being 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 old 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 Magistrate 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, 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, or 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: Oct 12 2023, 03:54 PM

[Acadian]

It occurred to me during the break between your episodes that Tiphannia’s problem might be more mundane that a curse. . . skooma?

So Jolda believes it could be an attribute damaging spell. That could make sense. First gotta deal with them mages in the guild. As a rather accomplished mage, Buffy ascribes to Arch-Mage Shalidor’s thoughts on the matter of mages: ‘Mages are envied their power, and reviled for using it.’

Looks like the book Jolda borrows may be quite useful for Jeval to hopefully coax Tiphannia’s loaded parents into paying to have their daughter checked out.

I like Jeval’s thinking. He recognizes that he has a sharp eye. I also like his logic about the benefits of working as a courier. I see he still harbors dreams of both the Fashion Guild and Quinn.

[SubRosa]

Name changed.

It is always nice to catch up with Jolda again. She was always one of the most mature and level-headed members of the show. And had her own seriously heavy crosses to bear.

Two years in the Mages Guild? We have moved ahead in time. Administrative duties? So she was rolling scrolls alongside Daria then. Well, it beats licking stamps all day.

I don't think it's Tiphanna's Intelligence, but rather Speed that might be damaged. If that is the case. Acadian does bring up an interesting possibility though.

As ever, I see Jolda is doing four full-time jobs at once. *sigh* She's going to burn out if she cannot find a way to slow down.

So it looks like Drenlyn was even less than it was cracked up to be. A zillion drakes in student loans, and it has gotten Jeval a dishwashing job and likely the same career path as his Dad. Thankfully that has never happened to anyone IRL...

And Jolda comes through with the goods. Somehow I doubt it will be as simple as how this looks however.

[Renee]

'Rosa: Yes, exactly! There's some bird with a really hilarious dance as well. Several birds.


Clavier: That's a good word to use for SNF: DARK. It's got a dark side for sure. It basically is more than just dancing. The NY drug scene is portrayed, a bit of light-hearted family life and goofing around, there's a suicide (sort of). John Travolta was HOT! He was also in Grease, another great movie, an onscreen musical in fact, which had nothing to do with disco, but also had some great dancing in it.

And then the 1980s began and all the sudden Disco was DEAD. It was literally out-of-fashion, just like that it was uncool. New Wave and rap and later electronic music (what became known as House music, Trance, dub-step, etc.) took over. I was 10/11 years old and really kind of bummed, as I'd just taken after-school disco lessons with my friend Lia. 💃

Off-topic already, sigh. Let's dig into LDotFC.


Hmm, Jeval. Now Jorda. He's thinking about Jorda graduating (or dropping out?) from the academy. Is this leading where I think it is?

Attribute damage. Interesting how the story tiptoes across to the Player's side of the game. The metagaming side. However, Jolda's speaking in such a way that it doesn't come across like that. It's just something a H4rdc0r3 g4m3r like myself notices. Anyway, so wow. So Tiphannia really has some problems, and this is why she's sort of slow.

“You’d do that? Thanks, you’re really cool.”

Mm hmm. Mm 'kay.

Mages Guild as portrayed in LDOTFC == medical practices here on Earth. They're supposed to help people (at least the Restoration side of the guild). It's like that lady in the College of Winterhold, the Restorationist. She's always complaining how everyone looks down on her school of magic. Because that side of the guild is probably getting put aside, as so many folks show up wanting to learn about conjuring dead things and blowing stuff up instead.

Dang, what was my point? Right, so it's like here on Earth, sometimes it seems like the money's all that matters, right?

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

Ahh.. MM hmm. I see.

And yet he's still obssessed with Quinny.

Well anyway, this chapter's got that classic sitcom "what could go wrong?" feel to it now. Like something's gonna happen with that book in clumsy Jeval's hands!

This post has been edited by Renee: Oct 15 2023, 04:31 PM

[WellTemperedClavier]

@Acadian - Heh, skooma would have been an interesting option for this.

As for the guild, there will always be a lot of politics that get in the way of doing the job.

@SubRosa - Thanks!

Jolda doesn't play that big a role in this story, but I thought this would be a fitting cameo. She'll be in Hammerfell just a few years from now. As for the timeline, this takes place before the lengthy epilogue episode, but after the Balmora Tax Revolt.

Yeah, I got some "inspiration" from the various real-world educational disappointments that people have suffered. Drenlyn always seemed kind of fly-by-night anyway, so it fit.

@Renee - Oof, bad timing there! I've read that disco's death came about partially due to the rise of hip hop, and also because of the early '80s recession. All that glitz and glamor had a high price tag.

Heh, yeah, I wanted to keep it in the realm of the "real" while also making a nod to the gameplay mechanics. Jeval's definitely stumbled onto something with this curse idea.

(Interestingly, in Episode 31, Quinn briefly wonders if Tiphannia is cursed, but she's too distracted by the whole Balmora Tax Revolt to think about it very much).

There are definitely some parallels with the guild system and various dysfunctions here in the real world.

Oh, so that "all the colors of the rainbow" line was actually just me trying to think of a way to describe how colorful it was. Didn't realize the implication. The epilogue does mention Jeval having a wife, but given how long Mer like him would live he might well have explored other possibilities before that point.

Chapter 4

The passage Jolda had picked out was perfect.

The target whose intelligence has been damaged will indeed be diminished, though not in the way associated with a person of subnormal intellectual acumen. The effects are best described as a kind of slowing. The target will struggle to complete sentences and will often be entirely unable to follow a conversation. In an example that I have observed, the target continually addressed the conversation’s opening topic, seemingly unaware that the participants had moved on. At times, the target may show flashes of their original intelligence, but these will be rare.

He might as well have been writing about Tiphannia.

Jeval stashed the book at his house and spent the rest of the day working at the Lucky Lockup, not able to concentrate but doing his best to scrub tables and serve patrons. He bolted the moment his shift ended, ran home, grabbed the book, and rushed to the warehouse where Treads worked.

The sun was settling into the west by the time he reached her. Workers busied themselves lighting the grimy lanterns that hung over the levees, their reflected glow like soiled stars in the dark water. Treads was already standing outside with a few other Argonians that he’d never seen before.

“…don’t mind doing it, actually. Just wish it didn’t take so long,” Treads said. She lifted her head as Jeval approached. “Oh, hey!”

“Treads! Jolda got me this book. You gotta take a look, this describes Tiphannia 100%!” he gushed, panting and out-of-breath.

“Who’s this?” one of Treads’s friends asked.

“Jeval,” she said. “I told you about him.”

Jeval skidded to a stop and put his free hand on his knee, gulping in the air. He needed to work on his endurance if he was going to follow in his dad’s footsteps.

“Hey. Yeah, I’m Jeval. We go way back.”

“I’m Damp-With-Dew,” said one, his voice so deep it seemed to shake the air. He wore a hood, and it was too dark for Jeval to make out any details.

“Acclesia,” said the other, her voice thin and whispery.

“Looks like Jeval and I are going to help an old friend,” Treads said. “See you around?”

“For sure,” Damp-With-Dew said. “Good meeting you, Jeval.”

The two Argonians walked into the thinning crowd. “New friends?” Jeval asked.

“Relatively. Can I see the book?”

“Yeah,” he said, handing it over. “Page 45.”

Treads took the book and stood next to the nearest torch, squinting as she tried to make out the text. Her throat bulged for a moment, and the tip of her tail curled up like it always did when something surprised her.

“This does sound like Tiphannia.”

“Right? I say we go.”

“Doesn’t it strike you as a little creepy that the author of this book keeps referring to this person as a ‘target’? Like did he cast a spell on them to study the reaction?”

Jeval shrugged. “Uh, kinda? I didn’t read the whole thing. Anyway, there’s nothing we can do about it now.”

“Wait, hold on. Did you keep reading?”

“No. I went to work after I saw Jolda.”

“It says that the… target,” Treads growled out the word, as if it tasted bad, “is still on some level aware of what’s happening around them while under the spell. And they’ll remember it all when the spell’s reversed.”

“Even better, right? We won’t have to like, fill her in.”

“Sure. But you know, we sometimes treated Tiphannia like a joke. I’m… probably guiltier of this than most.”

Jeval thought about that a bit. “I mean, that’s what friends do, right? We mess with each other.”

“Because we’re all in on it. I’m not sure Tiphannia was. My point’s that, if she’s enchanted in this way and we reverse it, she might not be entirely happy with us.”

“Nah, it’ll be fine. She’ll just be glad we fixed her.”

“Hmm.” Treads looked out along the river. “We have to do it anyway. But she might not be as happy with us as you think.”

They made good time on the way to the Blumius home, up north in the nice part of the Commercial District.

“Oh, shoot,” Jeval said, as they got closer. “Uh, your dad doesn’t like you wandering around at night. I don’t want to get you in trouble—”

“I don’t like wandering around at night, either. But I know how to handle myself. And my dad needs to accept that so long as things stay the way they are, it’ll never be safe for Argonians, night or day.”

“Huh?”

Treads shook her head. “I don’t want to talk about it now.”

By the time they got to the Blumius home, Jeval was wishing he’d dressed a little nicer.

“So, I’ll lay it out,” he said, standing in front of the door. “Keep it simple.”

“You know, we should’ve probably asked Quinn to do this. She knows how to handle people better than us.”

“You want to wait and bring her in?”

Treads thought about it for a moment. “No, we’re already here.”

“Then let’s go.”

Jeval knocked on the door. Tiphannia opened it, staring at them with her usual expression of dull surprise.

“Oh… it’s you… guys…”

“Hey, Tiphannia!” Suddenly, Jeval wondered if they should talk to her first. But there was no way to explain it to her. “Can I talk to your folks?”

“Why… do you want… to talk… to them?”

“Some business stuff,” Treads said. “Nothing to do with fashion.”

Jeval gulped. He hadn’t really understood what Treads had meant earlier, about Tiphannia not being “in on it”, but now he did. This felt awkward.

“Dad… Jeval wants to talk to you… about business…”

“On my way, dear!” came Mr. Blumius’s cheerful voice.

Tiphannia wandered off, and her father, a red-faced Imperial with a bad combover, took her place.

“Ah, always good to see my daughter’s friends,” he said. “I’m a little surprised you want to speak with me, however. You never struck me as especially, well, business-minded.”

His smile was big, but Jeval noticed that he didn’t motion for them to step inside. In fact, he was blocking the doorway with his bulk. Mr. Blumius wasn’t that tall, but he was still pretty strong. He’d served in the Imperial Navy when he was young, and said he still did the daily exercises.

“Uh, hi, Mr. Blumius. I, uh, wanted to talk to you about Tiphannia.”

The smile didn’t go away but his eyes turned hard. “Oh? You’re not a… suitor, are you?”

Blood rushed to Jeval’s face. Because no self-respecting Imperial would let his daughter marry a Bosmer. Skinny stunted jungle-elves like him were the lowest you could get before hitting beastfolk, right?

Beastfolk like Treads.

Jeval exhaled. Dammit, now he was buying into their bullshit. He shook his head.

“No. I already have a girlfriend,” he lied. “It’s more, well…”

Instantly, Mr. Blumius relaxed. His smile no longer seemed fake. “Ah, beg your pardon then.”

Treads decided to step in. “We think Tiphannia might be cursed. We did some research, and the way she behaves is exactly like someone who’s been targeted with a ‘damage intelligence’ spell.”

“A damage… excuse me, what?”

“There are spells that can mess up a person’s traits,” Jeval explained. “Including their smarts. Here, I got this book from the Mages Guild. Look on page 45.”

He handed the book to Mr. Blumius, who took it and opened it up. His eyes went back and forth as he read the passage, his brow furrowing like someone trying to concentrate on something strange and boring.

“This is interesting,” he said. “But what proof do you have?”

“We don’t have proof,” Treads admitted. “But you have to admit, that does sound like your daughter. It’s not too expensive to have these spells reversed with a blessing at the cult shrine: 35 septims, I think. And if she is under a spell, clearing it will make a big difference for her.”

“Well, perhaps. But you may be overthinking this. To me, Tiphannia seems perfectly normal for a girl her age. She loves clothes, baubles, talking about boys. I’ll concede she’s a little slower than most, but her future will be one of respectable wifehood and motherhood. She’s certainly capable of that. Her husband and servants can take care of the details.”

Jeval’s jaw dropped.

A long, vibrating sigh escaped Treads’s mouth. That meant she was pissed. But she knew better than to show it. “Of course. But it might still be more helpful for her—and you, and her future husband—if her intelligence is restored.”

“Which again, assumes she been magically diminished. I still don’t see proof.”

“I mean, I get that her interests are, uh, normal for her age,” Jeval said. “But she is kind of, well, off. Like compared to Quinn.”

Mr. Blumius laughed. “Quinn’s an altogether remarkable girl. I wouldn’t even expect most boys to reach her level. You also have to take Tiphannia’s background into account. Yes, we raised her in the Imperial way, but her blood is Quey. Who can really say what goes on in those peoples’ heads?”

“I’ve met another Keptu-quey,” Treads said. “He did not act like Tiphannia.”

“Tiphannia is fine for her position. I appreciate you bringing this to my attention, but unless an authorized mage can confirm she is indeed cursed in this way, I don’t see any reason to take action. Your concern is laudable. But misguided. If there’s nothing else?”

Jeval tried to figure out a good response. But nothing came up. Gods, what would Daria or Quinn do? They’d think of something.

“That’s all, Mr. Blumius,” Treads said. “Thank you for your time.”

“Have a good evening, then!” he said, waving before he closed the door.

Jeval stared at the closed door, not quite believing what had happened. He’d always gotten kind of a weird vibe from Mr. Blumius. But he hadn’t expected that. Thinking Tiphannia acted that way because of where she was from, not caring since her being dumb didn’t affect any of his plans.

Tiphannia wasn’t smart, but she wasn’t the stupidest one in her family, that was for sure.

“He’s not going to listen to us,” Treads said.

“We should’ve gotten Quinn.”

“I’m not sure he’d have listened to her, either. Though maybe she could’ve figured out a way to get him to do what she wanted without him realizing it.”

“Yeah, she’s scary good at that. So, what now?”

“How much would it cost to get a mage to check Tiphannia?” Treads asked.

“Jolda didn’t say, just that it’d be more expensive than taking her to the temple and getting her restored.”

Treads nodded. “Then let’s pool our money together and, uh, take her to the altar. So to speak.”

“Temple or shrine?”

“I don’t want to give money to either of them. But the temple’s closer, so let’s just do that.”

That surprised Jeval a little. Treads hated Morrowind and the Tribunal. Seemed like she should prefer the Imperial shrine, but apparently not.

“You sure?” he asked. “Is that allowed? Because Tiphannia’s family follows the Nine. Same as mine.”

“Positive. The Imperial Cult says it’s okay to use Tribunal Temple services for this sort of thing. Probably because they don’t want outlanders to have to march six miles to Moonmoth every time they get sick.”

“Guess that makes sense.”

“It will be tough to explain to Tiphannia why we’re taking her.”

“Let’s have Quinn do that,” Jeval said. “She’ll know how.”

“Agreed.”

This post has been edited by WellTemperedClavier: Oct 15 2023, 05:33 PM

[Acadian]

’Skinny stunted jungle-elves like him were the lowest you could get before hitting beastfolk, right?’
- - Ouch! Tiphannia’s dad’s accusatory question to Jevel had to smart. Buffy’s heard it all: ‘Scrawny bark-biting acorn elves.’ ‘I’d rather sleep with my horse than a Bosmer.’ Sigh. Jeval’s right though that our tailed friends have it worse.

’Tiphannia wasn’t smart, but she wasn’t the stupidest one in her family, that was for sure.’
- - Yeah, Jeval has the right of it here. What are Tiphannia’s true friends supposed to do?

Sure enough, Treads and Jeval come up with ‘mod one’ to their plans – an intervention, using Quinn’s finesse to help pull it off. What could go wrong?

[SubRosa]

Treads' new friends seem a little sus. Has she joined a resistance movement? The Twin Lamps?

Treads has some self-awareness here, in realizing that they have not always been charitable to Tiphanna. Jeval of course, completely ignores her valid concerns...

Okay, Treads has decided to do something about the prejudice and violence that people like herself face. She must have joined the Scale Panthers.

Hmmm, maybe they should have just talked to Tiphanna about it directly, instead of bringing her parent's into it?

Skinny stunted jungle-elves like him were the lowest you could get before hitting beastfolk, right?
Ouch, some real internalized bigotry poor Jeval has. Unless that was meant in an acidic, sardonic fashion. But it did not feel like the latter. It is not hard to see why he would feel that way. The games themselves make male Bosmer out to be the objects of ridicule. And they clearly show that beastfolk are outright oppressed.

I am not surprised that Mr. Tiphanna put up a roadblock to doing anything. At least he did not take their theory as a personal insult. He seemed to have some of his own when it came to Mrs. Tiphanna's ethnic heritage.

So, Plan B. Maybe they can convince Tiphanna that the Temple is having a sale on the new ecclesiastical fashions?

[WellTemperedClavier]

@Acadian - And not only do the Beastfolk have it worse, Jeval realizes he's mentally buying into stereotypes harsher than the ones people apply to him. These kinds of things are insidious.

As for what could go wrong... read and see.

@SubRosa - You'll see more of Treads's new friends later on in the story.

This is one element I'm not sure I did enough to set up, since I don't think Outlanders ever showed Treads being especially mean to Tiphannia. But I do think it matches somewhat with Treads's personality. She's a lot like Daria in that she's sharp and sarcastic. And Tiphannia just made for an easy target.

Yeah, that was definitely internalized bigotry. The Bosmer aren't as marginalized as the Beastfolk, but they are definitely marginalized.

My schema for this is that the Imperials and Nords are the most privileged groups. Imperials slightly more so outside of Skyrim, but not by that much. Then there are the Bretons and Redguard, who are both a bit Othered: the Bretons for having Mer heritage, and the Redguard for coming from a different continent.

Gets a little blurrier after that, but I figured the Altmer and Dunmer are both fairly high up since they come from societies that are either influential on the Empire (Altmer) or relatively intact despite colonization (Dunmer), and have surviving noble families/institutions. This power only grows in their home provinces. Bosmer are a bit odd since they're actually better integrated into the Empire than the other Mer, so they're culturally more accepted in some places, but also taken less seriously. The Orcs might also be in this level; despite being Beastfolk, the Empire finds them useful as soldiers, which gives them a bit of cultural capital.

Now comes the groups without full provincial reputation: Reachmen, Rimmenese, Keptu-quey. A lot of people wouldn't even be aware of them.

Then you have the Khajiit and Argonians.

Yeah, Mr. Blumius isn't a great guy.

Chapter 5

It took a few days to get everything set up for restoring Tiphannia. Job schedules were way tougher to get around than the old school schedule. Satheri and Tiphannia didn’t work, but Satheri was so busy with wedding stuff that she had less spare time than anyone else. But they finally nailed a date for it. They all agreed to pitch in seven septims for the restoration, which was pretty trivial even for Jeval and Treads.

“We should’ve done this in the first place,” he’d said.

Treads was already waiting at St. Roris square by the time Jeval got there on a bright but cold Loredas morning. She stood at the edge of the square, where the sun met the shade, her eyes on a ragged Dunmer staggering around the middle with his arms outstretched.

“Remember gloried Resdayn and the ways of old!” he bellowed. “In the days of Lord Dagoth! In the days when law ruled the land. And know that these days shall return! Blight shall drive the foreigners from our sacred soil! Woe to you, Empire! Woe to you, beasts-that-walk-like-Mer!”

Crazy drifters weren’t rare in Balmora. Except he’d been seeing way more guys like that lately; all talking about weird Dunmer stuff. They usually got shut down pretty quick, but it seemed like each time one got taken away, two more popped up.

In fact, there was already a pair of armored guards marching up to the preacher. He didn’t seem to know they were there as they took him by his arms, still shouting about Dagoth and Nerevar and outlanders.

Jeval took position next to Treads as the guards marched him away.

“Weird stuff,” he said.

“It’s always reassuring when I see someone who hates me arrested by people who hate me slightly less,” Treads remarked.

Treads had changed over the last half-year or so. She’d always been mad about how badly the Dunmer treated beastfolk like her. But her anger was getting deeper.

It wasn’t fun for Jeval. But he got why she felt that way. And she wasn’t wrong. So, he stood by her.

They’d only been waiting a few minutes when Satheri’s dad, Ulnar Roweni, arrived with his wife, Naldra, both of them decked out in embroidered silk that they must’ve imported from the Imperial City. Between them was what looked like a walking pile of purple and red fabrics.

It took Jeval a few seconds to realize that the pile was Satheri herself, wrapped up in religious clothes and veils.

“Hi!” Satheri said, her voice muffled behind all the veils. She struggled to lift her arm and wave.

“Hey, Satheri!” But why were her parents there? “Uh, hi, Sera Roweni,” he said to her dad. “Sera Roweni,” he repeated, to her mom.

Kind of awkward that Dunmer didn’t use gendered titles. But it didn’t seem to bother them. Both the Rowenis smiled.

“Good to see you, Jeval. Treads-on-Ferns,” Sera Ulnar Roweni said.

No one in the Fashion Club would ever say it, but Satheri’s parents had a better sense of style than her. Sure, Satheri dressed great, but only when Quinn coached her. Satheri’s mom and dad always put on the finest fittest silks and looked like they each spent a big chunk of the day getting their hair just right. They looked the way he imagined rich people in the Imperial City would look.

“Hey,” Treads waved.

Jeval looked back to his friend. There hadn’t been any talk about Satheri’s parents coming.

“Oh, I’m sure you are wondering why we’re here,” Sera Ulnar Roweni said. “Quinn told us about the situation with Tiphannia. We decided we’d cover the restoration fee. Tiphannia’s been a good friend to our little girl—as you all have—and there’s no harm in trying this.”

Of the five of them, Satheri had the richest parents. If some of the rumors were true, richest by a lot.

“That’s really cool of you! Thanks,” he said.

“It’s nothing. Also, the temple is crowded right now, due to the recent… controversies. We already have a space reserved for our daughter’s second blessing—Vehk be praised—and we can get you in as well.”

“I love Tiphannia no matter what. But the curse thing makes a lot of sense. So yeah, we should try,” Satheri said.

It was Quinn who brought Tiphannia, putting her arm over the Keptu-quey girl’s shoulders like she was guiding her. Quinn wore the yellow dress she loved, the one where the shade matched the red of her hair just right, and that had white lace on the hems and ends of the sleeves. No way would she ever be upstaged.

Though Tiphannia came close. Her turquoise dress stood out from the boring old adobe and was made of the kind of silk that shimmered a bit when the light hit it. The spell might have messed up most of her brain, but it hadn’t hit her fashion sense.

“But… I don’t even… worship… the Tribunal…” Tiphannia said.

“I know, Tiphannia! But we’re not going for worship. It’s just to, you know, clear things up for you.” Quinn turned to the rest. “Hi guys. I tried to explain it.”

“We should go to the… shrine… but Moonmoth… is so boring… and dusty…”

“Exactly! Which is why we’ll go the temple, instead!”

*********

The temple was packed.

Jeval hadn’t been there before. But there was no way the place usually had so many people. Hundreds of Dunmer stood shoulder-to-shoulder in the grounds outside the sanctuary, and through the gate he could see a bunch more waiting in the courtyard. It smelled weird, too. They’d been burning enough incense to put Red Mountain to shame.

“Patience is a virtue,” an elderly priestess said. But it didn’t look like it was a virtue many people cared about. Around her, the Dunmer talked and shouted over each other. Some knelt on the dirt with their heads bowed, muttering prayers.

“Whoa, this is weird,” Jeval said. “Satheri, what’s going on?”

She whimpered. “Uh…”

“There are some theological matters being discussed, right now,” Ulnar explained. “They aren’t things you need to worry about. Stay focused. Muthsera Sadri!”

He drew himself up to call over at the priestess, who stopped mid-lecture to look at him.

“Muthsera Roweni. A moment.”

The priestess put her hands in her sleeves and hurried toward them. The Rowenis all gave slight bows the way the Dunmer did, with Jeval and the other outlanders doing the same a second later (though Quinn had to push Tiphannia a bit).

“Forgive me, Muthsera Roweni. I knew there would be many faithful here today, but I did not anticipate this many. I fear we simply cannot perform the blessings properly.”

Satheri gasped. Jeval didn’t need to see her face to know she was about to cry. It didn’t take much with Satheri.

Quinn took Satheri’s hand. “Hi. Not to interrupt or anything—”

“You are interrupting, outlander!” the priestess barked.

Stunned, Quinn said nothing.

Ulnar intervened. “I understand these are trying times, Muthsera Sadri. But my family has a great deal riding on this. Could we maybe perform the ceremony outside the temple? It’s mostly symbolic—”

“Death to false doctrines!” shouted a Dunmer woman in the crowd. A bunch of other people cried out and lifted their arms to the sky.

This was getting creepy. What’s worse: they were scared. He wasn’t sure of what, but it was plain as day.

Sadri shuddered but kept her focus. “With respect to your generous donations, Muthsera Roweni, no. It is not mostly symbolic. It is the soul of our people! Come tomorrow, at sun-up. We will clear a space for your daughter. But please be on time. We cannot reserve it for long.”

“But… but what if it’s too crowded again?” Satheri cried. “Maybe that means I can’t be married!”

Satheri wasn’t much of an actor. If she sounded sad and scared, well, she was. But he already knew the marriage scared her, too.

Maybe this was good?

“Nonsense, dearest,” Ulnar said. “It only makes things a little more complicated, but we’ll find a way. And your husband-to-be is a very modern Dunmer; we made sure of that. He won’t mind a few irregularities in the rituals.”

“Oh, okay,” Satheri said, sniffling.

“Wait,” Treads said. “We still need—”

Ulnar brightened up. “Of course! Muthsera Sadri, one of my daughter’s dearest friends is in need of healing.” He gestured to Tiphannia. “We fear she may be cursed. I know the crowds are thick, but I’m sure there’s something that can be done.”

Sadri looked back and forth between Ulnar and Tiphannia. Then she nodded. “Yes, of course. We have set up a few temporary altars to ALMSIVI,” she said, gesturing to the edge of the temple grounds. People already surrounded the altars, placing coins and jewels and flowers on top of them.

“Make way, make way!” Sadri proclaimed. She angrily gestured to a pair of bulky Dunmer in robes, low-ranking priests maybe, who ran up and took position on either side of her. The three slowly pushed through the crowds to make a path for the Fashion Club and the senior Rowenis.

Most of the Dunmer didn’t notice. But a few did, shooting angry glares at the outlanders moving through.

“We should’ve gone to Fort Moonmoth,” Jeval muttered.

But no one did anything worse than shoot them nasty looks. Sadri chanted as she went.

“Remember the agonies of flesh and bone so suffered by blessed St. Seryn, all so others might be whole in mind and body! The pain we take is spared others! Contemplate this and grow strong!”

“It’s so… noisy…” Tiphannia said. “Like those… riots…”

“We’re almost there, Tiphannia,” Quinn said. She didn’t look scared exactly, but Jeval could tell she wanted to get out.

Hell, they all did.

“So, like, how does this work, Sera Roweni?” Quinn asked.

“Perhaps honored Muthsera Sadri should explain,” he said.

The priestess frowned and stepped behind the altar. “I will simplify this since you are not temple adherents. Pay 35 drakes, and I will restore your friend.”

“I’ll assume the cost for this,” Ulnar said, and handed the priestess a pouch bulging with coin.

“Have her kneel before the altar.”

“Okay, Tiphannia. Just kneel down like this,” Quinn said.

“But my dress… will get… dirty…”

“I know, but we can clean it later!”

“It’s… moth-silk… from Locutta… which is like… really high… quality…”

“Just do this for me!” Quinn fumed. She pressed down on Tiphannia’s shoulders, and the girl finally knelt in the grass.

Sadri raised her arms. “May you be restored in mind, and body, and soul. May your afflictions flee to the Four Corners of the House of Troubles! All blessings come from ALMSIVI.”

Jeval sensed it then. That weird prickly sensation in the air that always came with magic. Sadri’s hands glowed with white light. A second later, so did Tiphannia. She gasped.

The light vanished. Tiphannia still knelt, her eyes open and her lips quivering, like she’d seen something wild.

Then her eyes rolled into the back of her head, and she slumped onto the altar.

This post has been edited by WellTemperedClavier: Oct 19 2023, 03:48 PM

[Acadian]

Satheri’s parents willfully joining in and lending their support certainly helped. A lot, as it turns out. Especially given the semi-hostile crowds at the temple. It must be the local ‘hate everyone but Dunmer’ day.

Wow, even Quinn’s getting flustered as they all wonder if Fort Moonmoth might have indeed been a better idea.

Well, whatever Priestess ‘Shut up, outlander’ did, something happened for sure. I’ll hope Tiphannia recovers for the better.

[SubRosa]

Uh oh, it looks like one of the Sleepers has Awoken in the square. Joan of Cheydinhal will set that right...

I love the description of Satheri as a walking pile of silks!

Wow, sounds like Satheri's parents are pretty dope.

Well, we would not want to go to that dusty and boring fort.

At first I was wondering if it was a holiday that everyone forgot about. But it looks like more of Dagoth Ur's cult is stirring up trouble at the Temple. That dusty and boring fort is starting to look pretty good right now.

Oh my that was certainly quite the show that the Temple healer and Tiphanna put on. It sure looks like something was going on with her after all. But what remains to be seen.

[Renee]

Ha ha yeah, sometimes friends mess with each other, sometimes!

Everyone is concerned about Tiphannia. But what does Tiphannia think? Does she think she has a problem?

The red-faced Imperial with a combover sounds like a Mike Judge sidekick! Like the gym teacher/sergeant guy on B&B. WOW he immediately assumes Jeval's a suitor. Hello.

Blumius doesn't freak out when they present him with their spiel. I thought maybe he'd kick them out or something. Fortunately, not so.

Okay, father's not mad, but he is clueless. 🙄

Don't worry about the dad, just do what you have to so you can see if the slow-one is cursed or not! (sorry, talking to my monitor screen). OKay yeah, Treads got it. Sometimes you gotta take care of things yourself. So assuming they go through with this and the Tiphannia actually IS cursed, and this curse gets reversed, wow. We could see a whole different person during the next few chapters.

Lemme finish the next chapter in the morning. I'm wasted right now.

Edit, I'm back. Went out to Baltimore last night to see a friend's band. Two drinks, that's my new mid-life limit, Clav! 🍷 Wasn't actually wasted, but yeah, good thing I switched to water during the second act. "Tipsy typing" I used to call it, back in the early days of the Internet when chatting was all the rage.

Anyway, Where was I? Uh ... somebody is bellowing. Sounds like you've got Sleepers in your Balmora too! Presumably, all the events of the Nerevar have already occurred though, right? ... Yeah, sounds like it. The bellow-er is talking in past-tense.

OH my gosh, look at Satheri! All decked in purple.

No way would she ever be upstaged.

This sounds so much like my aunt. My family (mom's side) were involved with a fashion studio, mostly for black women in B'more. I never participated much, I was forced to walk a runway when I was like 6 or 7, and didn't like it. Kinda wish I had gotten into it more, now that I'm older. But this is sooo true... about the divas not wanting to get upstaged! 👩🏾‍🤝‍👩🏻 you really have the pulse on how that all works, Clavier.

Whoa, Ulnar and Satheri are trying to get married on this day? Sheesh, what a mess. Dunmer practices, man. Guess this is the way they do things. This sounds sort of like Vegas marriages though, right? Like, in LV, it's possible to get married with groups of strangers (from what I've heard, maybe Acadian can clear this up), married by Elvis, even! I'd rather have THAT than getting married in this stuffy, steamy dark elf temple.

Anyway, now I kind of feel a little bad for laughing at Tiphannia earlier in this story. She's got an actual, legitimate disorder or curse. Guess we'll find out.

This post has been edited by Renee: Oct 21 2023, 06:23 PM