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

[Acadian]

This was lovely! You wonderfully captured her awkward feelings as Teresa hoped and wondered about the dance she was getting into. I could feel the pitter patter of Teresa's heart.

Like rose petals spread across the surface of a hot bath, it beckoned one with the promise of its soft delights.

Very nice, and wonderfully expressive!

"Oh, it was not that bad, only a few skeletons and a ghost," Teresa did smile then, albeit only faintly. Not that bad at all, she thought to herself, aside from nearly being killed...

A perfectly timed injection of understated humor driven entirely by the situation. Hmm. . . Teresa is going to have to start rating her smiles. You know, like this was a 2. A hug from Simplicia merits an 8. I see she is hoping for a 9 or better tonight.

"Only one of those things would send me running and screaming to the nearest castle!" Nerussa exclaimed, her eyes brilliant with light, "you are so very courageous!"

"Look at me, acting like an ivory tower princess," Nerussa rolled her eyes, "I am sure you do this monster-slaying all the time. I could tell when I first set eyes on you that you were a seasoned fighter."

These two quotes show much of Nerussa. From a woman with less finesse, it would simply be the same buttering up one would use to attract almost any man. From Nerussa however, it is carefully calculated to have a predetermined effect upon the young wood elf quivering before her. Guess what, Nerussa? It's working.

This post has been edited by Acadian: Oct 12 2010, 06:56 PM

[haute ecole rider]

Acadian already said it all.

So I'll just say this: it was quite enjoyable to read this again. Whether one is straight or lesbian/gay, the emotions you described in the chapter are always the same. Wonderful job the first time around, and just as enjoyable the second time around!

[Linara]

That was a beautiful chapter. I've always loved the tiny villages and hamlets that you come across in Cyrodiil, I would rather live there than anywhere else. I agree with h.e.r. and Acadian, Nerussa has been written very nicely. And Teresa sounds like some high schoolers I know, when they try to talk to their crush! A very good read, indeed.
Nell

[treydog]

Teresa’s butterflies and doubts are universal. Even from the perspective of my great age (cough, cough) I can still remember those feelings which you describe so well.

And speaking of descriptions, the scene in the Wawnet Inn was so vivid that I could picture it even without the screenshots (which were an added treat).

The entire conversation with Nerussa was a brilliant bit of writing. Teresa’s running commentary had the ring of truth to it, as well. “Why did I say that? Why can’t I be clever and charming and relaxed?”

Nit:

“…lavender on the Altmer woman's hair and the scent pomegranates underneath it.”

Apparently Teresa was so caught up in the moment that she lost her “of.” Prepositions, propositions- eh, what’s the difference?

[D.Foxy]

The difference is you preposition yourself to deliver your proposition.

[Destri Melarg]

Like hautee said, everything has already been pointed out. It seems to me that Nerussa is at least as interested in Teresa as Teresa is interested in her. There were a lot of men in the common room. Most are in no condition to operate a horse (especially if they have been naughty in Nerussa’s absence)! I wonder what the sleeping arrangements will be.

[SubRosa]

Acadian: I have always liked that line about the rose petals in the bath too. I am glad you liked it.


haute ecole rider: Yep, as Willow once said "Love makes you do the wacky." The same is true for lust.


Linara: Teresa is a high schooler! Well, almost. More like a freshman. But yes, she is quite young, and quite under the influence of her hormones.


treydog: Prepositions, propositions... preparations?


D.Foxy: A long time ago you said you were worried that the Teresa 2.0 lacked the same feeling of vulnerability and wonder. I think this chapter will put those fears to rest.


Destri Melarg: Teresa is wondering what the sleeping arrangements will be as well!


Next: In our last segment Teresa finally made it to the Wawnet Inn and met Nerussa. Next, wooage ensues. This will be a long post, but I do not want to break up the momentum in the scene.

* * *

Chapter 19.2 – Dibella's Dance

Nerussa led the way back down to the common room, where she took up a chair behind the bar and invited Teresa to sit with her and share a bottle of Tamika's. The sweet wine was a pure delight on the wood elf's tongue, and she realized that it was the same that Jauffre had served her when she had been at Weynon. Had that only been three months ago? she thought. Somehow she felt years older than she had been at that time.

After just a few moments Nerussa filled a pitcher with ale and was off serving her patrons. Then she returned to sit with Teresa once more to talk, throwing the copper remans she was paid into a simple wooden box beneath the counter. From time to time the high elf would rise to serve more drinks. On occasion she would accidentally brush against Teresa when she did so, something which the Bosmer found very pleasant.

"You seem kind of out of place here," Teresa observed as Nerussa returned from one of her mug-filling expeditions. She gestured at the velvet gown the high elf wore for emphasis "I mean, you're so elegant and you have such nice things, but in this little village…"

"Oh, well I am not originally from here, and I was not always an innkeeper," Nerussa explained with a smile as she sat down beside the wood elf. "In a way you might say I am retired too, like Aelwin."

"You sure work a lot for someone who is retired!" Teresa exclaimed.

"It is just a different kind of work is all, but I really only do this because I want to," Nerussa said with a smile as faint as any of Teresa's. "When I was younger I always wanted to travel and meet people. I am not a brave warrior like you though, and to be honest, I am rather lazy. All that walking and riding around sounds exhausting. Then I realized, people from all over Tamriel come through this little village on their way to and from the Imperial City. So I bought this inn and let them come to me..."

Teresa nodded, it was never something she would have thought of, but she could see the Altmer's reasoning.

"So how do you afford everything?" she asked, "I mean, to buy this place, and your clothes, and all the rest?"

The wood elf instantly regretted her words. What if Nerussa was a member of the Thieves Guild? she suddenly wondered. She could easily be a fence, or a smuggler. With all the people passing by going to and from the Imperial City she would have the perfect location. Or maybe she earned her money in something less savory?

"I'll tell you a secret," Nerussa said, leaning closer to Teresa and lowering her voice, "well, it is not that much of a secret, most of the locals know. I do not make any money from the inn. Well, I make enough to keep it going, but not enough for anything else. I earned my fortune when I was younger, and that is what I live off of."

"What did you do?" Teresa asked.

"I was a courtesan," Nerussa smiled.

Teresa nearly spat her wine all over her dress. As it was she had to cover her mouth with one hand and fought to keep from spilling her glass with the other. First Simplicia, then Adanrel, and now Nerussa! her mind reeled. Was there anyone she knew who was not a prostitute?

"And I used to think that I was full of surprises..." Teresa muttered as she wiped the wine from her chin.

"So why did you give it up?" the forester asked once she felt composed. Now she was starting to understand why Nerussa was so good at being... attractive. "It certainly seems to have done well by you."

"Oh it did, financially at least," Nerussa agreed, "in other ways too. I was no street corner or even brothel girl. I was the escort of councilors, patricians, and equites, the elite of society. If you had to ask how much my services cost, you could not afford them."

"It sounds very glamorous," Teresa admitted, admiring the way the velvet of her gown glistened in the dancing firelight, and the delicate patterns of flowers that its lace traced out across the hourglass of her figure. She remembered how soft it had felt under her skin when Nerussa had embraced her. What might it be like to wear velvet and lace? she thought, to have gold and jewels, and dine in palaces?

"It was glamorous, at first," Nerussa said. Her eyes took on a faraway look, and Teresa wondered what she might be seeing in her mind's eye. "I was taught how to walk, to sit, to stand, all over again, even how to breathe, so that everything I did was with grace and elegance. I learned to be witty and seductive, to sing and dance, and I memorized poetry and classic literature."

"You see being a courtesan is not simply about sex," Nerussa explained, her eyes now fixing upon Teresa once more, "it is about being a living work of art. We had to be able to accompany and entertain all manner of men and women at all times and in all places. To be honest, we spent more time talking to people, singing, dancing, reciting poetry, and just making them smile and forget all of their cares, than actually rolling in the sheets with them."

"That sounds wonderful!" Teresa said, her eyes sparkling as she imagined Nerussa surrounded by finely dressed nobles in some great manor, doing all of the things she had described.

"It was, at times," Nerussa's tone lowered now, and her eyes lost their sparkle, "but as time goes by the shine fades. You see how it tarnishes you, and the harder it becomes to put on a happy face for the crowd when you feel like crying. You find that your entire life is nothing but an illusion created for other people's enjoyment, and you wonder if there is any part of you that is not a lie."

"Is that why you left?" Teresa asked, trying to imagine what that must be like. The way Nerussa spoke, it sounded like she was more a doll than a person.

"No, not exactly," Nerussa turned he head, and seemed to be weighing her words before speaking again, "I was arrogant, I thought I was the greatest courtesan in Cyrodiil, and my hubris cost me everything. You see, I made the worst mistake any courtesan can make. I fell in love."

"What happened?" Teresa leaned forward with wide eyes. It all sounded like something from a bard's tale, or one of those silly books by Casta Scribonia.

"Oh, it is the oldest story," Nerussa looked back at Teresa, her eyes dark and distant, "his wife found out. Most women know when their husbands are with a courtesan. Sometimes they are even present as well. Most of them could hardly care. The wealthy marry for power, wealth, and status, not love. It is not unusual for one or both spouses to have lovers on the side, so long as it is discreet."

"She was not like that though," Nerussa went on, "she was even more conceited than I was, if that is even possible, and far crueler. She may not have wanted any part of her husband's bed, but she would not allow any other woman in it either. So she destroyed me."

Teresa knew better than to ask who it was. Even born in the gutter, she knew that a courtesan could not reveal who her clients were. She reached out and laid her hand on one of Nerussa's knees and tried to smile. She had always imagined bad things only happened to poor people like herself and Simplicia. It never occurred to her that people living in luxury might be just as desperate and hopeless as she was on the street.

"In the end I came here," Nerussa explained, taking Teresa's hand in her own and gripping it firmly as she looked back into the wood elf's eyes. "Here I can just be myself, and I can be with whomever I choose to, whenever I choose to. I can finally live my life on my own terms."

"I am so sorry," Teresa said truthfully.

"You are a dear Teresa," Nerussa smiled, not the seductive look she had become so accustomed to seeing on the Altmer woman's features, but rather a simple, warm expression of kindness. "I don't usually tell people that last part, not that it is much of a secret mind you. But you are easy to talk to. You seem like such a lovely person inside. You bring out the best in others, like someone else I once knew, a long, long time ago."

Teresa felt her cheeks grow warm again, and then it was her turn to look away.

"You are you know, I could tell when I talked you into helping Aelwin," Nerussa said, sliding her chair closer. Teresa was keenly aware of the Altmer's finger as it gently touched her hair and traced a line down the edge of her cheek. Her hand was like a torch, leaving a trail of fire behind it as it awakened a deeper blaze within Teresa's flesh.

"At first I thought you were just a mercenary archer. But only a kind person would have helped Aelwin for nothing in return." Nerussa finished, taking her hand away from Teresa's face as lightly as she had placed it there to begin with.

"Well, he did give me this," Teresa mumbled, twisting the turquoise ring that she wore on one of the fingers of her left hand. Engraved with the likeness of dolphins leaping over waves, the light glittered from its surface as if it were made of water. "It is enchanted after all."

"But you did not know Aelwin would give you that, did you?" Nerussa pointed out, "I had no idea he even had that ring, or could pay you anything. Face it Teresa, you are a good person."

"Now I'm embarrassing you again, am I not?" Nerussa said, standing up and reaching for a pitcher and filling it from a keg of ale. "You must learn to take a compliment Teresa, because if you keep acting the way you have been, you will be receiving them for a long time!"

Then she went gliding into the common room with the ale and began filling mugs again. When she returned she paused beside Teresa and once more let her fingers fall into the wood elf's scarlet tresses.

"I have been meaning to mention since you first came in, I like how you changed your hair," she observed, "and quite an entrancing scent you have on it too, and the rest of you as well. Is that vanilla?"

"Yes, it's vanilla," she noticed! Teresa thought with a silent prayer of thanks to Dibella, even as her cheeks reddened from Nerussa's attention.

"That is a lovely outfit you are wearing as well," Nerussa went on, "Argonian by its softness. The burgundy goes so well with your hair too. You look so different from when you are in your armor, I almost did not recognize you when you walked in!"

Teresa wanted to close her eyes and just slip away into the feeling of Nerussa's fingers gently stroking her hair. She wished that time would stop, and she could spend the rest of eternity in that moment. It took an extreme effort of will, but she looked up at the Altmer woman and smiled.

"I noticed you use lavender, and is that pomegranate too?" she said.

"You are very perceptive!" Nerussa said, "most people notice the lavender, but not the pomegranate. I use it as a cream, it is very good for your skin."

"I know all about plants, that is what I do really," Teresa could not help but to smile as Nerussa's fingers continued to gently trace their way through her hair. By Dibella that felt so wonderful, she thought. "I gather alchemical ingredients and use them to brew potions."

"Oh, you are a mage?" Nerussa looked surprised and drew her hand away, much to Teresa's regret. "I thought you were a fighter? With all that armor you had on the last time, and the bow..."

"No, I'm not a mage," Teresa explained, "I just know how to make some potions is all. I'm still learning, to be honest. I'm not really a fighter either. I just carry the bow and the armor to protect myself."

"Oh goodness, I'm so sorry," Nerussa apologized as she sat next her. "When I talked to you about the wine and Aelwin's slaughterfish, I thought you were, well, a mercenary. I thought you fought in battles all the time. I never would have asked you to do either if I knew..."

"That's okay, I can take care of myself," Teresa replied. A moment later she wondered at that. She never would have said such a thing three months ago, let alone believed it.

"Promise me you will not go looking for more of the Shadowbanish," Nerussa said, once more taking Teresa's hands in her own. "Wine is just wine, but I could not live with myself if something were to happen to you."

"Don't worry," Teresa said, "I can handle it. I've always been good at watching out for myself."

"Oh you have been pulling my leg I see," Nerussa leapt to her feet, fixing her hands on her hips and casting a stern eye down upon the wood elf, "pretending to be a simple potion-mixer when you really are a warrior after all."

"I'm not," Teresa tried to explain. "I'm just an ordinary person. I'm no hero."

"You know what you remind me of Teresa?" the Altmer woman declared. "I have been trying to put my finger on it all this time, and now I see. You are just like the old soldiers I knew when I was in the business. They never talked about their battles, or their honors. The only time you could ever get them to say anything about the service was when they told anecdotes about the places they were stationed or their old friends there."

"Now the young ones, all they would ever do is boast about how brave they were," she went on, "they would never stop telling you about what great warriors they were. They were so full of manure. You could tell who the veterans were pretty quickly, because they were like you. They were quiet. They did not have to brag, because their actions said everything for them."

Teresa stared at her lap, having no idea what to say, let alone do. She was saved when once again a table of fishermen called Nerussa over for more ale. Was the Altmer woman right? Was she really a veteran? She had been in more than a few fights since meeting the Emperor. In the last three months had fought assassins, goblins, undead, magicians, imps, and even Daedra.

But she hardly felt like some veteran soldier. She only felt like... herself. She was just glad to still be alive after it all. What was a veteran supposed to feel like?

Teresa was glad that when Nerussa returned it was with a smile on her face. This time the high elf did not touch her hair however. She hoped that the innkeeper did not think that she was somehow trying to deceive her. She could see just how much Nerussa valued honesty in people.

"Nerussa I..." Teresa stammered, trying to think of what to say, but the other woman waved her explanations away.

"I am sorry Teresa," Nerussa said, "I'll never know what it is like to do what you do. But I do understand if you do not want to talk about it."

The two of them sat in silence for long moments. Teresa looked away, and wondered if she had botched everything with Nerussa. The high elf was such a complicated woman, Teresa thought, so much older than herself, and so much more, well, experienced in the world. What could someone like her ever see in a simple girl from the streets like herself anyway?

Yet when she looked up into Nerussa's eyes, they seemed so earnest in the way they glowed back at her. Was that nothing but her courtesan training though? Teresa wondered. Was everything just a disguise with her?

"So there is no Lord Nerussa then?" Teresa finally asked. It had been something she had been wondering since she first set eyes upon the innkeeper. It had seemed hard to imagine Nerussa without someone before, but given her story, she wondered if the Altmer woman would ever want to be anyone else again?

"Thank Dibella no!" Nerussa snorted, "love is for poets Teresa."

Teresa's heart sank like a lump of iron in Lake Rumare. It was exactly what she wanted to hear, but the way Nerussa had said it sounded so jaded, so cynical, that she wondered if the Altmer woman would ever feel anything for anyone again, such as herself...

"Don't you get lonely?" Teresa practically squeaked as she looked down, afraid of what the answer would be.

"Not at all," Nerussa said, taking Teresa's hands in her own once again and squeezing them gently. "As I said, I can be with whomever I want, whenever I want, with no entanglements. Every day brings someone new, and sometimes they are a real treasure. If I want them, I have them."

Nerussa lifted one hand and cupped it under Teresa's chin, raising her features to meet her own. The Altmer's eyes fairly blazed, and Teresa felt her heart leap as heat spread through her body. No one had ever looked at her that way before. It made her feel nearly giddy.

"Do you ever get lonely, when you are out harvesting plants?" Nerussa's eyes continued to burn with fire.

"Sometimes," Teresa admitted, lowering her eyes for a moment. Why did she feel so bloody awkward? and worse, how was it that Nerussa's stare was able to strip her so completely bare? "I've never been with…"

Her words trailed off as she realized what she was about to say. I've never been with anyone, she thought. It was hardly the thing she wanted to say to a woman so worldly as Nerussa. By Dibella, how clumsy could she be?

She saw Nerussa lean closer to her, and then she felt the Altmer woman's soft lips upon her forehead. The wood elf breathed in the scent of lavender and pomegranates and sighed in contentment.

"Nature's first green is gold," Teresa heard Nerussa whisper softly as she stood up. Then the Altmer's hands were slapping down on the bar and her voice rang out across the common room.

"Last call!" she cried. "Drink up now, because I am too tired to put up with the lot of you ruffians anymore!"

A chorus of half-hearted yells and rude gestures erupted from the fisherfolk in the common room. The legionaries had long since retired to their rooms upstairs. Nerussa simply grinned and gestured back at them. Teresa was amazed at how she could go from being the epitome of elegance and refinement at one moment, to being as rough and crude as any street rat the next.

Teresa rose herself as the last of the other patrons shuffled out the door. More than one of them cast a leering glance in her direction, and she caught a few mutters about "Nerussa's latest..." Somehow she did not feel the slightest bit embarrassed. They could mutter all they wanted, Teresa thought, just as long as it was true...

"So, about that room..." Teresa looked to the innkeeper. Her heart raced as fast it had while staring down her arrows at the ghost in Castle Magia, and she wondered how Nerussa could seem so cool and composed. Did the Altmer really feel anything for her at all?

"Oh no!" Nerussa slapped her palm into her forehead with a look of horror. "The rooms are all booked up! Those legionaries got here before you and took them all!"

"Oh," Teresa whispered. Her heart sank like a stone. It all really had been just game on Nerussa's part after all, she thought.

"There is nothing for it then," Nerussa's voice sparkled with mischief. She stepped closer to Teresa and put her hands on the wood elf's hips, "you will just have to spend the night with me!"

"Why you! I'll get you for that!" Teresa sputtered, feeling her heart leap higher than Mount Taygetus.

She raised her eyes to meet the fiery gaze of Nerussa. Lifting her arms around the high elf, she laid one hand behind the Altmer woman's head and pulled the taller woman's face down to her own. Nerussa did not resist, and tilted her head slightly to one side as Teresa drew her closer. The scent of lavender enfolded Teresa as their lips met, and the rest of the world just slipped away...



Note: "Nature's first green is gold," is a quote from the poem Nothing Gold Can Stay by Robert Frost.

This post has been edited by SubRosa: Oct 16 2010, 07:59 PM

[haute ecole rider]

It just hit me why Nerussa's tale is soooo familiar!

It has the flavor of Memoirs of a Geisha. I read that book quite a few years ago and was fascinated by it.

One nit:

Yet when she looked up into Nerussa eyes, they seemed so earnest in the way they glowed back at her.

I think you lost the possessive 's there.

I truly enjoyed this the second time around. Yes, it's a mite long, but you really can't break it up into shorter segments, so it's just fine the way it is. Like others have said, when it's this well written, you don't really notice how long it actually is.

[Linara]

Cheers! After nineteen chapters it's finally happened! Poor Teresa, second-guessing herself at every step. A very natural chapter. I agree with Nerussa, Teresa is very humble when it comes to her skills. Very nice.

[Acadian]

Simply beautiful, SubRosa! You really do justice to Teresa's myriad of confused hopes, fears and passions here.

WooHoo! Tamika's!

Teresa observed as Nerussa returned from one of her mug-filling expeditions.

I loved how you phrased this!

Teresa nearly spat her wine all over her dress.

See, Teresa, I suspect Raven suggested you wear a burgandy outfit.

"You see being a courtesan is not simply about sex," Nerussa explained, her eyes now fixing upon Teresa once more, "it is about being a living work of art.

Beautiful!

You bring out the best in others, …

Teresa, you certainly do.

[treydog]

Once more, you show your brilliant skill with conversations and with giving your characters stories that sing. The fact that there are so many other things going on during this conversation is a testament to your ability. It is all real and seamless and wonderfully rich, as we find ourselves in the dim tavern, watching all the intricate patterns of all the dances that are taking place simultaneously. Nerussa keeping up with her customers; Teresa hoping (more than trying) to be interesting; and again Nerussa responding to the beauty that Teresa has always had, whether she was aware of it or not. And it is all completely immersive.

it is about being a living work of art.

The way Nerussa spoke, it sounded like she was more a doll than a person.

Your description of the objectification that is at the heart of Nerussa’s former profession is excellent- and I am glad that Teresa recognizes the pitfall, even if she never had any intention of following that path.

Nit?:

"I just know how to make some potions is all. I'm still learning to be honest.”

Without a comma, that second sentence scans as if she is still learning not to be dishonest. “I am still learning, to be honest.” Alternatively, reversing the order would serve the same function- "To be honest, I am still learning."

[Destri Melarg]

I wonder how the Reman Dynasty would feel knowing they were relegated to gracing the Empire's lowest unit of currency. Kind of like Lincoln I would imagine, if he could see his face on the penny (though from what I remember about him, he would probably laugh louder than anyone).

I love Nerussa’s reasoning for choosing to buy the Wawnet Inn. Impartial self-assessment followed by the most expedient of solutions. Now we find out that she is a former courtesan . . . sounds like someone perfectly suited for the business of hospitality! Her story is at once powerful, tragic, and strangely familiar. Hautee is right, it does have the flavor of Memoirs of a Geisha.

“You must learn to take a compliment Teresa, because if you keep acting the way you have been, you will be receiving them for a long time!”

Hallelujah!! Can I get an Amen??!!

[haute ecole rider]

AMEN!!

[SubRosa]

haute ecole rider: Memoirs of a Geisha was one of my inspirations for Nerussa, as was rl Veronica Franco (the film Dangerous Beauty is about her). I never read Memoirs, but it was one of the first movies I bought on blu-ray when I got my hd tv and blu-ray player. That and Alexander Revisited in fact. Which shows a lot about my tastes!


Linara: You are right, it took her 19 chapters to finally score! I guess Teresa really is a late bloomer!


Acadian: I still remember my first time, and did my best to channel all that awkwardness and uncertainly into Teresa.


treydog: But Teresa is still learning to be honest!

Throwing in other things going on while I do conversations and other long scenes is something I have to really work on. I try to do it to show that while the characters may be focused on one another, there is still a whole world going by around them. Hopefully that makes the characters themselves more real.


Destri Melarg: I was originally going to use some term for the Akaviri Potentates for the copper coin. I never did come up with anything I liked, so just decided to one-up them, and make it a reman.

How about an awomen?


Next: Teresa has (finally) lost her virginity. Next, the afterglow.


* * *

Chapter 19.3 – Dibella's Dance

Nerussa woke with the sun in her eyes. That meant one thing, she had overslept. She knew that she should have been up and making breakfast for the legionaries at least an hour ago. Well, they were probably not only awake, but long gone on their mission by now, she realized. She would just have to listen to them grouse about it the next time they stopped for the night.

Teresa's arms were still around her, and thanks to decades of practice Nerussa was able to gently disengage herself without waking the wood elf. Sitting up in bed alongside the other woman, she let the silk sheet fall from her bare chest and stretched her arms above her with a silent yawn.

Still rubbing the sleep from her eyes, Nerussa slid from the wide bed and gracefully walked to the full-sized mirror beside her wardrobe. She looked at her naked body in the mirror. She was not the woman she was forty years ago, she thought glumly. Others might not notice it, but her eye certainly could note the tiny effects of time and gravity. But she still had a few more good centuries left before her elven body began to really show age, perhaps even longer if she continued taking good care of herself.

Closing her eyes, she focused her mind upon the symbol of her Bloom spell, an unfolding rose whose petals beaded with moisture. A moment later she raised a hand over her head and closed her fist, imagining the flower clutched within her fingers. Drawing forth the magicka within her and channeling it through the rose, she opened her fist and let the glowing white energy fall around her body.

Suddenly she felt refreshed and clean all over, as if she had just emerged from a warm bath. Her ivory teeth sparkled in the mirror as she smiled, her breath felt fresh, and her hair took on that glossy sheen that only comes after washing.

Stepping to the dressing table, she drew forth a jar of dark cream and began applying it to her skin. The smell of pomegranates filled her nostrils as she worked the lotion into her flesh, and she did not stop until every inch of her skin had been covered with the balm. Then she turned to her hair while her body dried, dipping a comb into a solution of lavender and water and running it through her golden tresses.

Turning to the bed, she saw that Teresa was still fast asleep. The wood elf lay on her side, one hand under her head and the other stretched out across the empty bed. Her red hair was spilled across her pillow, the sunlight turning it a brilliant crimson as it trailed across the silk and velvet.

She looked so peaceful and content, Nerussa thought as a feeling of warmth spread through her breast. The pale elf had seemed so very sad the first time they had met, as if she had forgotten how to smile. Then even when she did the joy never reached her eyes. What pains have you endured, that their ghosts still haunt you so? Nerussa wondered as she stared down at Teresa.

Yet there was no trace of darkness in her features now, Nerussa observed. She could not stop herself from stepping to the bed and reaching down to run her fingers through the wood elf's hair, gently drawing the errant locks from her face. Teresa's nose wrinkled as she did so, and her body shifted under the silk sheets. Yet she did not waken, leaving Nerussa to simply bask in the warmth she radiated.

Nature's first green is gold, the high elf thought, and you are golden dear Teresa, at least for now. Even in spite of the darkness that followed her steps, the wood elf still retained the glow of innocence, at least where the heart was concerned. She wore it so plainly on her sleeve, Nerussa thought, there for all to see.

Had she ever been so young, so awkward and wonderfully naive? It had been so long ago that Nerussa could hardly remember. Yet when she gazed upon the archer's sleeping form those memories did come rushing back. It was a time when the world seemed wide and filled with wonder and possibility; a place where anything could happen, where she could be anyone or anything.

Nerussa sighed. By Dibella this girl was beautiful, she thought as she stared. Not physically, her body was too wiry and hard, her hands callused from the bow, her face too angular, and her skin far too pale. But the brilliance of her spirit shone through all of that, and Nerussa pitied those who could not see it.

Nerussa walked to her wardrobe and slipped into an outfit of green velvet. Moving back to her dressing table afterward, she sat and began pulling her hair up behind her head. That is when she saw Teresa looking back at her in the mirror and nearly jumped from her seat. She had not even heard the wood elf get out of bed, let alone step across the floor.

"Teresa!" the high elf exclaimed, letting her hair drop around her shoulders and twisting around in her antique chair. "You nearly scared me to death!"

"I'm sorry," Teresa bit her lower lip for a moment as she came up behind the chair and slid her arms around Nerussa. "I guess I am used to being quiet, long years of habit."

"I forgive you," Nerussa smiled as she looked up at the willowy elf. Goddess she was so adorable when she bit her lip like that, the Altmer thought, and she probably had no clue that she was even doing it.

Then Teresa leaned her head down closer and their lips met. Her kiss was soft as the morning dew. Nerussa closed her eyes and reveled in the feeling. She felt Teresa's hands sliding across her chest and her heart began to race. The forester's kiss turned more insistent, and Nerussa was intensely aware of how warm and firm her skin was against her own. She gave herself completely over to the feeling as Teresa pulled her from the chair and back into the bed...

* * *

The noon hour had come and gone before Teresa finally took her leave of the Wawnet Inn and Nerussa. She could not stop smiling as her feet took her across the great western bridge and back to the Imperial City. The sun had never seemed so bright and warm on her skin, the birds had never sung so clearly, and the water below had never shimmered so delightfully as it did at that moment. For the first time in her life, everything seemed right with the world.

Her eyes glazed as she thought about the night and morning she had spent with Nerussa. The Altmer had sung for her, danced with her, and whispered poetry in her ear. Then there were the other things she did with her in bed. Teresa had no idea that someone could touch her the way Nerussa had. She thanked Dibella for placing those wine bottles in Castle Magia, otherwise she might have never known such pleasures.

Goddess that woman was incredible! Teresa thought. She could understand why someone would pay to be with her. It would be worth every septim, and more.

She had seen Nerussa looking at her in the morning, when the Altmer had thought she was still asleep in bed. Nerussa had not known that she was watching her in the mirror. The high elf had just stood there looking down, and her face had such a glow to it that Teresa had barely been able to remain still. It was not that fiery gaze she saw during the passion of the night before, but rather something warm and comforting, as if somehow gazing upon Teresa had sparked some memory of happiness long-buried within her.

Nerussa does like me, Teresa thought, she likes me, and that is real.

But Nerussa did not love her, Teresa knew. The Altmer had made that very clear during the morning, even though she never said so directly. Her life was one without entanglements, and if love was not an entanglement, Teresa could not imagine what was!

Did she love Nerussa? What did love feel like anyway? Teresa wondered. Yet love or not, she knew that Nerussa would always be special. When she was younger she had heard that a girl's first was always magical. Yet when she grew older she found that Adanrel never acted like her first time was anything remarkable, and Methredhel never really talked much about the men she had been with at all.

Maybe she had just been lucky to find someone like Nerussa. Or to be found by her was more like it, Teresa chuckled inwardly. It was not as if she could pick and choose lovers like someone with Adanrel's looks or Methredhel's confidence could. The three of them were all about the same age, and yet the other two had been seeing men years earlier.

"Good afternoon ma'am," the voice of a soldier pulled her from her reverie, "I hope you had a pleasant journey." Teresa looked up to see the Talos Plaza gate in front of her, and a single legionary standing beside its open doors. Even under his helmet, she recognized him as the same man who had been there the previous day, when she had left the city for Weye.

"Hi!" she beamed in response, surprising even herself with her cheer, not to mention the wave she gave the soldier. Goodness! she thought to her herself, what had Nerussa done to her?

What had the Altmer woman not done? Teresa asked herself, and could not contain a laugh. The legionary gave her a confused stare, but still smiled and nodded as she walked by him and into the Imperial City.



Note: "Nature's first green is gold" is a quote from the poem "Nothing Gold Can Stay", by Robert Frost.

This post has been edited by SubRosa: Jan 18 2011, 05:29 AM

[haute ecole rider]

Afterglow is right! They don't need to open the shutters just yet!

Good to see Teresa finally get lucky. Nineteen chapters, huh? That's not long for me, but that's just me!

I have not seen the movie Memoirs. I'm trying to remember the first DVDs I bought when I got my Mac G3 (could play movies in its Superdrive) - I think it was Toy Story and Silverado. Don't have Blu-ray, and am not inclined to go that route at the present time.

[treydog]

So many wonderful passages here that I cannot quote everything that sings- because the whole episode is a symphony.

Yet when she gazed upon the archer's sleeping form those memories did come rushing back. It was a time when the world seemed wide and filled with wonder and possibility; a place where anything could happen, where she could be anyone or anything.

I will content myself with highlighting that moment, because it speaks so clearly to the old doggie that I have become- and the young pup that I stil recall.

[Acadian]

I had more than a faint smile during this entire beautiful episode. Magnificently done, my friend!

I heartily agree on your well-mangaged switch from Nerussa's pov to Teresa's for the latter part of the chapter. As you say, when changing pov, make it worth the reader's while. You certainly did so here. How wonderful to see both their perspectives!

[Linara]

Sigh. Wonderful, I can say nothing more.

[SubRosa]

haute ecole rider: I loved Memoirs. Especially in high def. It is a treat just to look at. Ziyi Zhang is just mouthwatering, and Ken Watanabe is his usual fantastic self. Even I would give it up for that man. That reminds me, I should watch Letters from Iwo Jima again, now that I have it on blu-ray as well.


treydog: Thank you dog, that was also a poignant scene for me to write as well, for the same reasons.


Acadian: Did I say that? It does sound like good advice, so I guess I will pretend I did even if I didn't!


Linara: Thank you Lin.


Next: Teresa has spent the night in the arms of Nerussa. Now she returns to the Imperial City to catch up with old friends.

* * *

Chapter 20.1 – No Going Back

5th Last Seed, 3E433

Returning to the Market District, Teresa found Simplicia working with Jensine in her shop. Both women made a fuss over how happy she looked, not to mention her new clothing. Jensine said she was practically glowing. Teresa wanted so badly to tell them why, but held her tongue with an effort of will.

Simplicia was not her real mother, but she might as well have been given how the elderly Imperial had taken care of her all of her life. How was Teresa going to tell her mother that she spent the night and all morning romping through the sheets with another woman, and a former courtesan at that? Simplicia's own terrible history in the sex trade would probably only make the news worse, rather than better, Teresa thought.

So the wood elf contained herself and made her way across the street to the Merchants Inn. There she changed back into her leathers, strapped her quiver to her hip, and slung her bow stave across her back. Then she was back on the street and heading across the city to the Waterfront.

She had to tell someone or she would burst, and Methredhel and Adanrel were just the people. It was not like she had any other real friends in the city, in spite of having lived her entire life there.

Pausing to string her bow in the tunnel from the Temple District, Teresa found herself in the Waterfront as the sun dropped over the horizon. Few people wandered the docks at this hour, the stevedores and sailors having long since headed for either their homes or the taverns and brothels deeper inland. The latter two roared with noise and light as she made her way past them through the streets, then continued on to where the cracked pavestones gave way to the simple dirt and mud of the shantytown beyond.

Teresa forced herself out of her thoughts and into the same alertness she maintained while in a ruin. She knew too well the dangers of the shantytown after having three years of living there. The Imperial Legion never went there for a reason. She drew the bow from her back and laid her free hand upon her quiver, just in case.

She received more than one hard stare as she made her way through the maze of dilapidated shacks, crude huts, and even tents. She had become used to that from the gangsters, pirates, and other thugs that haunted the Waterfront. Ever since she had taken to wearing armor and carrying her bow they had been looking at her that way, as they would another predator.

Yet what surprised her was that many of the people who were not fighters by nature were giving her that cold look. They were people whom she recognized by their faces if not their names. Some she had known for years, ever since she went to live on the Waterfront when she was fifteen.

Contrary to what everyone in the better parts of the Imperial City believed, the district was not filled to the brim with cutthroats, Teresa thought. Most people here were simply regular folk trying to get by after losing everything they had, if they ever had it to begin with. The real trick to living in the shantytown was learning to tell one from the other, and staying clear of the dangerous ones.

Teresa was still pondering the strange behavior when she came upon Methredhel's shack and knocked on the door frame. She heard the floorboards creak within, and a few moments later the thief opened the door with a dark look and let Teresa in.

"You won't believe what just happened to me!" Teresa gushed, unable to contain the news of the last night within her any longer. "I met someone, and we spent the night together! It was the most incredible-"

"Well if it isn't the respectable lady come back to spy on the lowlifes!" Adanrel's words spat like venom from across the room, cutting Teresa off in mid-sentence, "how much is your new lover paying you to turn us in?"

"What?" Teresa was too stunned by the vehemence of the blond-haired wood elf's words to fully comprehend what she was saying. "What in Oblivion are you talking about?"

"Oh, we all know about you and your new boyfriend in the Imperial Legion!" the wood elf declared as she crossed the room to confront Teresa directly. "Even the soldiers are saying it!"

"Methredhel, has she gone mad?" Teresa looked to the third Bosmer in disbelief.

"Everyone's been talking about it," the brown-haired woman spread her hands and shrugged. "From you holding hands with some legionary in their barracks, to Adanrel seeing you with him on the street the other day. It seems hard for me to believe, but what are people supposed to think?"

"Just yesterday I saw you and him holding hands outside of Rindir's Staffs, and then you were running your fingers through his hair!" Adanrel taunted. "Couldn't you have picked a better-looking boyfriend though? He looks like he fell asleep in the fire!"

Teresa felt her cheeks turn hot, but for once not with embarrassment. Her teeth clenched together and her fingers curled into fists. It took her several moments to master the rage building within her enough to form words.

"I don't have any boyfriend," she growled in a low voice. "I went to see one of the legionaries because he saved my life and Simplicia's in the Crisis. His arm was broken, his guts torn out, one of his eyes fried to Oblivion, and his face burned off! He's a damned freak now, all because of me. I went to thank him for saving my life. He was laying in so much pain that they had to fill him with enough opium to flatten a minotaur!"

"You thanked him?" Methredhel said through raised eyebrows, "he's a legionary! What in Nirn has gotten into you? Have you forgotten who they are?"

"He's a bloody person dammit!" Teresa nearly shouted back, jabbing a finger into Methredhel's chest for emphasis, "they all are! and if it wasn't for him and the others like him you would be dead!"

"And you too big-mouth, you would be dead too!" now she poked a finger into Adanrel's chest as well, with enough force to send the curvy wood elf reeling back a step, "Everyone down here would be dead, this whole place would be gone, just like at Kvatch. The Daedra would've killed you all after they were done with the rest of the city. Except the legion went out in the streets and died while you were cowering down here in your filth!"

"Listen to this guar-pie going on about her legion lovers!" Adanrel shouted back, "First you get too good for any of us here on the Waterfront, and now you start whoring for the Imperial Legion! How many of them have you spread you legs for, just the one, or everyone in the Market District?"

Teresa's sight turned red, and before she knew it her fist was crashing into Adanrel's face. The smaller, softer wood elf crashed to the floor with blood pouring from her lip and quickly pooling on the rough wooden boards of the floor. Adanrel seemed too stunned by the sight of it to do more than gasp as she desperately tried to staunch the flow with her fingers.

"Teresa!" Methredhel yelled now, stepping between them and grabbing the forester by the shoulders. "What in the blazes is wrong with you?"

"What's wrong with me!" Teresa screamed back in the dark-haired Bosmer's face and knocked her hands away, "I thought you were my friends, and this is how you treat me?"

"Get that legion tart out of here!" Adanrel cried from the floor, crawling to the chest against one wall of the room and pulling a rag from it to hold up against her mouth.

"One more lying word out of you and by the gods I swear I'll..." Teresa shoved past Methredhel to tower over Adanrel, one hand pulling a steel-headed arrow from the quiver at her hip.

"You'll what, kill her?" Methredhel's voice was quiet now, and somehow because of that her words sliced through the lava flow of Teresa's fury to a more rational part of her being. "Is that what you are now Teresa, a killer? What happened to you in prison?"

Teresa shook, staring down at the arrow in her hand as Adanrel screamed more invectives from the floor below. She had not even realized that she had drawn it forth. Would she really have used it?

Teresa stepped back, feeling dazed, and Methredhel once more moved between the two. The thief bent down to look at Adanrel's bloody lip and told the blond elf to shut up. That only brought forth another torrent of curses from the smaller woman, and Teresa shook her head in disgust, at them or herself even she was not certain.

"I thought you were my friends," her voice was shaking now as she looked at the two women who had been her closest compatriots for a decade. "Was I ever stupid. Simplicia was right about you all along. You were just using me."

With that Teresa turned and flung the rickety door open so hard that it threatened to fly from its hinges. She stormed out without another word, and found that people had gathered in small groups in the alley outside. They stared at her with wide eyes, pointed, and whispered among themselves. Teresa even recognized a few of them as being members of one of the local street gangs, dressed in leather and carrying maces at their hips.

"What are you looking at!" she growled, and they all scattered as she approached, even the thugs.

This post has been edited by SubRosa: May 14 2011, 06:50 AM

[D.Foxy]

I kissed you in my dreams before I ever saw your face
I wrote you in my heart before I held your flesh as art,
In sparkling light I held your eyes as coals of my desire
And have spread their jewels wide to reflect of my fire -

Now I tremble. Your face, half hidden in purple shadow
haunts me in reproach of a word I cannot know:
For I wrote your words before you ever knew to speak
And now your mouth finds no truth to set me free...

Kiss me, then, I implore to the speaker of silence -
And she does with all the ardour that my mind has created,
and I know each touch, each tendril of taught texture,
steps in a dance that I created for mine own pleasure.

Your breath is as warm as the solid flesh that I caress,
Yet I know that nothing which I hold is truly real:
I hear myself in the your moans praising my strength,
I feel my greed in your gifts opened to my loins -

And even in the tidal roar of truimphant flesh
I know lost is the mystery that it should have blest,
while my blood sings with triumph of flesh untamed,
my soul weeps for the mystery which I have shamed -

For I have not only written, but breathed life unto a lie,
And from common clay made a mockery of the divine,
No Eve have I made, but a lumpen, gibbering gholem
but common clay for all that I have painted it gold:

Now weep in silence, for your work is done;
your creation wanders the world in hunger
thirsting for the humanity it no longer has,
seeking water from the desert that once was your heart.