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

[Linara]

If that's a Foxy poem I want one! Anyway back to the story...Poor Teresa, she so wanted to tell someone. I have to admit, it was a little unexpected to me. Her and Vols?! And shouldn't Methredel and Adanrel know Teresa well enough to know she wouldn't be selling herself to the Imperial Legion? Fools. Now what will Teresa do...

[Acadian]

What a superb display of many things here!

Firstly, nice observations on the Waterfront - Teresa obviously knows it well. Then the wood elf 'party'. Oh my.

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 swear it is indeed a wood elf thing. My elf was squirming throughout all of this as she could sooo identify.

"Listen to this guar-pie going on about her legion lovers!"

Oh, SubRosa! This is better than your patented imp chips (that I have on occasion borrowed of course).

"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?

Magnificently phrased - both wording and content. Wow!

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 more temper. I'd say it was the henna-died hair, but ya know, I get the same thing from my blonde.

This episode was a wonderful romp through what an unchecked rumor mill can generate. More importantly of course, it shows how much Teresa has grown/changed and some of the responsibility that comes from her gained lethality and confidence. Sigh, you can never go back. Poor Teresa just wanted to share the excitement of her night with Nerussa. Goodness, it almost seems that Vols might actually have been a more understanding ear hear than her old girl-gang.

[treydog]

Even though I knew what was going to happen, this was a hard episode to read. But, good writer that you are, you do not shelter your characters or your readers from the harsh realities of change. Yes, Teresa has become a killer- but not a murderer. And the sad truth is, the Waterfront is no longer her home. I will spare some sympathy for Methredhel, who played peace-maker as best she was able, and expressed doubts rather than accusations. But Adanrel, though she was never the brightest candle in the sconce, deserved the mash in the mush and a lot more besides. Good writing, like good art of any kind, makes you feel. No one ever said it always makes you feel good, though.

[Destri Melarg]

Chapter 19.3 – Dibella’s Dance

Add another to the long list of reasons why men should be thankful to women. Only a woman would come up with the idea for the Bloom spell. Body, hair, and teeth all sparkling clean with a single gesture. I wonder if it also cures hangovers?

Teresa’s afterglow was perfectly described, right down to the confusion that attended her realization that she had walked to the gates to Talos Plaza without her feet ever hitting the ground. I know that Teresa has the best intentions in honoring the way that Nerussa sees their relationship. But why do I get the feeling that Teresa’s heart might not be listening? Maybe it can’t hear her over that BOING sound that it is making.

Chapter 20.1 – No Going Back

I whole-heartedly agree with everything that treydog said. Like him, I can spare some sympathy for Methredhel, who after Teresa’s explanation expressed some doubt with her accusations. But it seems clear to me that this latest misunderstanding gave Adanrel the excuse to finally let her true feelings about Teresa be known. That little elf is so full of jealousy and hate that it will consume her if she is not careful. The tragedy of this chapter is that Teresa would have done anything for the two. The optimist in me can see room for Methredhel and Teresa to mend their friendship, but it is plain that Teresa’s friendship with Adanrel is at an end. I wonder will this play a role in the future?

[Doommeister]

Rosa I have to congratulate you. I've just finished reading Teresa of the faint smile and I love what you have written.

I see so many people in the game much differently now because of the work that you (and acadian I must add) have put in to lake them seem like real people.

I have laughed, smiled widely, and cried reading your story. You make the world of Tamriel sing.

Love your work, and keep it up.

Ps: please keep a certain stringy bosmer alive and well

[SubRosa]

D.Foxy: Looks like someone was reading Mary Shelly lately! Thank you for the inspiration!


Acadian: The whole time I was writing Heart of Steel I was thinking of how it would look to Adanrel's eyes. It is amazing how things can be construed to mean something entirely differently from a different point of view! You are right, Vols might have been a better ear for Teresa to share her good news with than her old pals!


treydog: This was certainly one of Teresa's lowest moments yet. Although sad to say, it only gets much worse in the future.

I loved your line about the torch in the sconce (not the scone), so much that I had to steal it!


Destri Melarg: BOING is right! You gave me a good chuckle with that. I think the hangover cure would be a separate spell, that also sobers people up at the same time. That is probably one all the Legion Battlemages have to learn!

I had not really thought about doing anything special with Adanrel after this. But now you making the wheels spin in my head. Perhaps after being bitten by a magical rat she will gain super-powers, make herself a costume, and become Rodentia Maximus! Naturally she would have to begin a reign of terror upon the Waterfront. Then Methredhel and Teresa would have to team up to stop her before it was too late.


Doommeister: Hi Doom, welcome to the TF! We don't have a wavey smiley, so here is Santa:


Next: In our last episode Teresa returned to the Waterfront to find she was no longer welcome among her old friends. Next she faces Methredhel once more.

* * *

Chapter 20.2 – No Going Back

"Teresa!" Methredhel's voice rose up behind her, "wait!"

Not more, Teresa thought as she stalked through the winding path between hovels. Her knuckles were white as she gripped her bow stave, and her limbs still shook like a leaf. By Raven she felt like she had fought a battle, a real battle! Yet this did not end with the usual rush of euphoria that survival always brought her. Instead she only felt more dark and angry with every step.

"Teresa, stop!" Methredhel's voice was closer now, coming between gasps for breath. A moment later a hand tugged at her sleeve, and Teresa wheeled to face the other woman in the street.

"What's wrong, you haven't insulted me enough?" Teresa railed.

"I'm not insulting you," Methredhel said as she caught her breath, and it was plain to Teresa that she had been running to catch up. "I'm just trying to figure out what is going on with you."

"What's going on with me?" Teresa was still shaking, and she felt her eyes welling up with tears now. "I came here to share my good news with the people I thought were my friends, the people I trusted since we were kids, and how do you treat me?"

"Adanrel was out of line. I know, I'm sorry. She's never been the brightest candle in the sconce, and you know how high strung she is." Methredhel spread her hands in a conciliatory gesture. "But you were hardly diplomatic either. You didn't have to hit her, or draw an arrow on her. You have been so strange lately."

Teresa stood silent and closed her eyes, willing the anger to flow out of her and into the mud beneath her feet. She thought about the arrow that had been in her hand, and how it had gotten there without her even thinking about it. Was she really a killer? Is that what she had become?

"I guess you're right," she sighed and looked back up into Methredhel's eyes, "I shouldn't have. But what was I supposed to feel when she was saying those things? What would you do if she were screaming that at you?"

"I dunno," Methredhel admitted. "But I know I wouldn't be chumming around with the Imperial Legion either."

Methredhel held up her hands as Teresa's fingers curled into fists once more. "I know, I know, you aren't sleeping with one of them. Adanrel may be too thick to notice, but I know you're only interested in women."

"You know that?" Teresa was dumbfounded. It was not like she had ever shared her feelings about that with the other wood elf, or anyone else really.

"Well, it's kind of obvious," Methredhel chuckled. "I mean, you won't even touch sausage, let alone eat it. It's only fish for you…"

Teresa did laugh then, as did Methredhel. With that the tension from the fight began to finally ease out of her.

"Why didn't you say something then?" Teresa asked.

"Well, I didn't think you really wanted it going around the Waterfront, and if Adanrel heard it, then half the city would know," the brown-haired Bosmer shrugged. She gently put an arm around Teresa's waist and led her through the tangle of broken-down buildings that made up the Waterfront shantytown. "C'mon, let's go sit by the water and talk."

"I know I've been different from how I was before," Teresa said as they walked, trying to make sense of what was happening. "I guess I really am a killer now. In the last few months I've killed goblins, undead, imps, Daedra, and even people. Things happened to me when I went to the prison. I wanted to tell you before, but I couldn't. I couldn't say anything to protect Martin. Then afterward I didn't think you would believe me."

"Martin?" Methredhel asked, "who's that?"

"Martin Septim," Teresa said as they broke from the last of the hovels and strode out along the shore of Lake Rumare. The water spread out before them like rippling black silk under a canopy of stars. Far in the distance across it she could see a tiny cluster of lights. That was Weye, she knew, and somewhere in there Nerussa was pouring ale for thirsty fishermen. Was the high elf thinking of her?

"What?" Methredhel exclaimed. "You mean the Emperor Martin? Saint Martin? What do you have to do with him?"

"I was there when his father - Emperor Uriel - died," Teresa said, turning to look into Methredhel's eyes. "I was standing just as close to him as we are now. He gave me the Amulet of Kings, so I could take it to the Grandmaster of the Blades, and then he could give it to Martin."

Methredhel looked stunned as Teresa told her the entire story, from waking up in the prison, to meeting the Emperor, seeing him die, her harrowing escape through the tunnels, and the following journey to Weynon Priory. She did not leave out any details, and Methredhel sat in rapt attention beside her at the water's edge, until finally Teresa was finished.

"It's all true, it really happened," Teresa said as Methredhel looked at her with wide eyes. "I know it sounds like a load of guar-dung, but it did. I wasn't able to tell anyone because I thought if the Mythic Dawn found out about the amulet they might have killed Jauffre to get it before he found Martin. Turns out that happened anyway, sort of, because they had a spy at Weynon. I only found out after I talked to Baurus again a little while ago. They had to trick them into opening the Oblivion Gate at Bruma so Julian could get a special sigil stone from it, and use that so she could get to the leader of the Mythic Dawn and get the amulet back."

"Baurus, you mean the new Grandmaster of the Blades? And Julian of Anvil, the fetching Hero of Kvatch herself? You know them?" Methredhel cried. "If it was anyone else telling me that I would say they were full of imp chips. But now at least some things are starting to make sense about the way you've been acting."

"It is our choices in life that define us, that is what the Emperor told me," Teresa said, "everything we do, or do not do, makes us what we are, makes the world what it is. Some people choose poorly. Some choose to be something better."

"All of my life I chose poorly," Teresa continued. "Well, no more. Emperor Uriel trusted me. He believed in me. I can still see him when I close my eyes. I won't betray that faith he had in me."

"You know who you sound like?" Methredhel cocked an eyebrow, "those priestesses of Mara who come down here every month to 'save' us all."

"Yeah, well maybe you should listen to them some time," Teresa said. "Some of them might act all high and mighty, but they are right. No one ever solved their problems in the bottom of a skooma bottle, or at a card table, or in a brothel. If you don't take responsibility for your actions first then no one else can ever help you."

"You really have changed," Methredhel said, "Adanrel was right about one thing, you've gotten respectable."

"I've gotten respect for myself," Teresa replied evenly. "I suppose that makes me the enemy now?"

"Of a lot of people, yes," Methredhel said honestly. "You know what it's like down here. You're either one of us or one of them. Now I know why you left that morning, after you came back. You really don't belong here anymore. I guess I just didn't want to see it."

"So then that's it then," Teresa sighed and stared out at the dark waves, understanding that her oldest friend in the world had slipped away forever.

"No," Methredhel said. "I don't plan to spend my entire life is this dung heap either. I just have a different way out than you."

Teresa turned back to face the other Bosmer, not sure what to think. Her heart was a swirling mass of conflicting emotions. This morning she had soared in the paradise of Nerussa's arms, this afternoon she had floated on the afterglow of her memory, and finally this evening she had lost her only friends in screaming and a bloody fist fight. How was she supposed to feel? What was next?

"The Thieves Guild accepted me a few days ago," Methredhel proclaimed with a grin. "I am now officially a Pickpocket!"

"They did!" Teresa's eyes brightened, and she clasped her hands around the other woman's with a faint smile. "That's great. I know how long and hard you've worked for this, you finally did it. How did it happen?"

"They had a contest between everyone up for membership," Methredhel continued to grin, "It was me, that Argonian kid Amusei, and some Redguard I never met. We had to steal this guy's diary. The first one to get it got in the guild. Let me tell you, that guy had some weird dreck in his house too. He was growing vampire plants in his basement!"

"What!" Teresa cried, still smiling ever so slightly as well. "Vampire plants? You didn't get bit did you?"

"Hey, I'm not the one here with the pasty white skin who never goes out in the sun!" Methredhel laughed, and her hands shot to Teresa's pockets. "Let me look at those plants you've been gathering. Do any of them have fangs?"

Teresa actually found herself giggling as she struggled to fend off Methredhel's mock pick-pocketing attempts. The two of them collapsed in a heap of laughter on the lakeshore moments later, and in those short moments all the troubles of the last hour slipped from Teresa's mind.

"We are sure some pair," the forester breathed after catching her breath. "I am now officially respectable, and you are officially disreputable!"

"Promise me something," Methredhel said as she regained her composure and looked Teresa in the eye, "no matter what happens, we'll always be friends?"

"That's a promise." Teresa did not hesitate to answer, and put her arms around the other woman and held her tight.

This post has been edited by SubRosa: Oct 21 2010, 01:48 PM

[Acadian]

I was laughing, then crying, then laughing, then crying again, before finally sighing in appreciation of your skill here. Fittingly then, let me use your own wonderful words:

. . . Instead she only felt more dark and angry with every step. . . .

"What's wrong, you haven't insulted me enough?" Teresa railed.

"I'm not insulting you," Methredhel said as she caught her breath, and it was plain to Teresa that she had been running to catch up. "I'm just trying to figure out what is going on with you."

"What's going on with me?" Teresa was still shaking, and she felt her eyes welling up with tears now. "I came here to share my good news with the people I thought were my friends, the people I trusted since we were kids, and how do you treat me?"

This passage shows the swirling turbulence found inside the brain of a young she-elf. Anger to tears at the speed of an arrow.

"Well, it's kind of obvious," Methredhel chuckled. "I mean, you won't even touch sausage, let alone eat it. It's only fish for you…"

Ah yes, the shot heard round the world. One of the most memorable passages in all of TF.

"Martin Septim," Teresa said as they broke from the last of the hovels and strode out along the shore of Lake Rumare. The water spread out before them like rippling black silk under a canopy of stars. Far in the distance across it she could see a tiny cluster of lights. That was Weye, she knew, and somewhere in there Nerussa was pouring ale for thirsty fishermen. Was the high elf thinking of her?

"What?" Methredhel exclaimed. "You mean the Emperor Martin? Saint Martin? What do you have to do with him?"

Again, the young elven feminine brain - see how it creatively flits by obtuse association in a way that makes perfect sense?

And Julian of Anvil, the fetching Hero of Kvatch herself?

WooHoo! The fetching hero herself!!!

Methredhel laughed, and her hands shot to Teresa's pockets. "Let me look at those plants you've been gathering. Do any of them have fangs?"

Teresa actually found herself giggling. . .

This was not only cleverly done, it brought . . . wait for it. . . a giggle to the face of faint smiles!!!!

What a joy to read!

[Destri Melarg]

Perhaps after being bitten by a magical rat she will gain super-powers, make herself a costume, and become Rodentia Maximus! Naturally she would have to begin a reign of terror upon the Waterfront. Then Methredhel and Teresa would have to team up to stop her before it was too late.

This made my day! Maybe she should be the Antagonizer, I hear the job is open!

I am so glad that you did not leave Teresa and Methredhel at odds for too long. The affection that the two elves have for each other is apparent in every sentence. You once remarked to me how you could tell that I really enjoyed writing about Cyrus. Let me return the favor, it is easy to see how much you like writing about Methredhel.

"We are sure some pair," the forester breathed after catching her breath. "I am now officially respectable, and you are officially disreputable!"

This was perfectly said!

A nit:

If you don't take responsibility for your actions then no else one can ever help you."

Teresa is so worked up that she is reversing her words.

[haute ecole rider]

As heartbreaking as the scene with Adanarel was, it was fate. I never liked her in the TF anyway.

Methredhel, on the other hand, is one savvy chick, and it's hard not to respect her.

I'm glad the two of them (Teresa and Methredhel) made up after Teresa punched out Adanarel (she asked for it anyway!)

One nit:

He heart was a swirling mass of conflicting emotions.

It looks like Teresa was so conflicted she lost her 'r'!

[treydog]

If I can write a line good enough for you to steal, I can think of no higher compliment.

Teresa stood silent and closed her eyes, willing the anger to flow out of her and into the mud beneath her feet.

That is so perfectly written that I can feel it.

This is an important crossroads for Teresa, as she brings her old life and her new to- not harmony- but closure. She has changed, but so have the people she knew. We want our friends to stand still, so they will be exactly as we think we remember them, but the world does not work that way. Bless Methredhel for her persistence and her loyalty. I hope the promise is one they both can keep.

[Linara]

Reconciliation. We knew it was coming, at least with Methredhel.

"We are sure some pair," the forester breathed after catching her breath. "I am now officially respectable, and you are officially disreputable!"

My favorite line, for sure. I never like Adanrel either, there was something about her smugness... A nice chapter. I'm glad Teresa still has her friend.

[SubRosa]

Acadian: Thank you paladin. Hope your trip to see your father is going well!


Destri Melarg: But Oblivion does not have giant ants! Unless they are the result of foul sorcerous experiments? Perhaps Ancotar fled from Aleswell before the mob could get him, and turned his research to animals rather than invisibility?

You are right indeed, I do enjoy writing Methredhel. She is one of my favorite characters in Oblivion.


haute ecole rider: I never liked Adanrel much in the TF either! But then again, I was always writing her with this in mind.


treydog: Indeed, Teresa closing the book on her past and setting her eyes forward was what that chapter was all about. It is something she always knew from early in the TF, but something she could never really accept until now.


Linara I always liked that line too. It was actually inspired by a line from Mad Max: Beyond Thunderdome. When Auntie Entity says "Well, ain't we a pair, Raggedy Man." to Max at the end.


Next: Teresa has learned that she is no longer welcome at her old stomping grounds of the Waterfront. Next she turns her eyes forward, starting with a conversation with Simplicia.


* * *

Chapter 21.1 – The Last King Of The Ayleids

6th - 8th Last Seed, 3E433

"So when are you going to tell me who this man is that you are seeing?"

Teresa nearly spat her milk all over her new clothes. The white chemise and brown bodice were not the same smooth and downy soft material as her burgundy outfit, but still linen nonetheless, and far from cheap. Stalling for time, she made an effort to smooth the gentle material of her brown skirt around her legs before looking back across the table at Simplicia.

"I'm not seeing any man," she insisted. It was true too, she thought gratefully. Granted, she was seeing a woman…

"Teresa, you will always be my little cherry blossom," Simplicia said with a smile that quickly fell into a frown. "But I wasn't hit in the head like Jensine was. I know when you are hiding something. Now out with it!"

"Honest mom," Teresa felt like she was ten years old all over again, and had been caught sneaking off to run interference for Methredhel as the thief picked pockets. "I'm not seeing any man. I never have, and it's not like I would ever want to."

"Well of course you do dear," the old Imperial said in softer tone. "You've been old enough to notice men for a while now. I'm not so old that I've forgotten that! I just want you to be careful is all. A lot of men only want one thing from a girl, and they won't take 'no' for an answer. And they all lie. Believe me, they'll say whatever it takes to get in your skirt."

"It's ok mother, really." Teresa took a bite from the green pepper she was eating. Stuffed with rice and slathered with tomato slices and a tangy red sauce, it was simply delicious in her mouth.

"Just tell me you're taking silphium," Simplicia went on. "Even though you're an elf, you can still get in a family way after just once, especially if it's not with another elf."

"Silphium!" Teresa nearly choked on a spoonful of rice and pepper, and she was keenly aware of how other patrons of the Feed Bag were turning to stare. "The last thing I need is that," she said in a hushed tone. "Honest mother, I am not seeing a man."

"Well you sure as Oblivion are seeing someone!" Simplicia declared. "A girl doesn't get all Dibella'd up and disappear all night just to sell a few wine bottles."

Teresa bit her lip, and wished she had an invisibility potion with her.

"Just tell me cherry blossom," Simplicia said in a soothing tone. "You used to always tell me everything."

"It's a girl, alright?" Teresa sighed. "I'm seeing a girl. A woman really."

"Ohhh…" Simplicia's eyes widened in shock for a moment, but quickly settled back down. "I guess you don't need the silphium then! Well that's normal. Elf girls all like to play the field when they're young. Look at Queen Barenziah. From what that book about her said, she probably put her legs apart for half the girls in Skyrim when she was your age!"

"Simplicia!" Now it was Teresa's turn to be shocked. She had been expecting a lecture on Imperial morals, not a full-fledged acceptance of her sex life. Well, Teresa found herself thinking, Simplicia had been a brothel girl when she was young after all. She must still have the same open mind that she had then.

"Oh don't give me that," the elderly Imperial waved her hand for emphasis, then set it down gently on one of Teresa's. "I'm old, but I'm not dead! Like I said, I remember what it felt like to be your age. Enjoy it while you can. You're young, you should be out living life. Now tell me about this woman."

"Well, her name is Nerussa," Teresa said, feeling a smile form on her lips as she thought of the golden-haired Altmer. "She's a high elf, and she runs an inn just across the lake, right at the other end of the west bridge."

"So what's she like?" the Imperial asked, "is she attractive?"

"Oh she's beautiful," Teresa felt warmth flush through her features as she pictured the elf in her mind. One of her fingers slipped into her hair, and began twirling her crimson tresses as she stared into space. "She's tall, and has hair like spun gold. Her eyes are the same color too. She smells wonderful, and her skin is as soft as cream. And she's kind too, and thoughtful, and smart."

"My goodness, you certainly are quite taken with this Nerussa," Simplicia said. "She certainly sounds incredible. Well they say a girl's first is always Dibella incarnate. It never was for me, but I'm glad she was for you little blossom. It was your first wasn't it?"

"Simplicia!" Teresa felt herself pulled back down to Nirn once more, and stopped playing with her hair. "Yes, she was my first. It's not like that's ever been something people would want from me."

"Oh don't say that," Simplicia frowned over her milk. "You are the most beautiful girl in the world, even if I say so myself. I see how the men look at you, especially since you changed yourself and all. They're sniffing around you already no doubt."

Teresa shrugged. She had never really paid any attention. Although there had been that Redguard in the tower barracks, and that one guard at the Cheydinhal gate… "I don't really think about men," she replied. "I don't see why so many women get so excited about them."

"Well you just wait until you're a little older, and you want a family." Simplicia explained, and now Teresa did feel the lecture coming. "You'll want to find a good man then, and get married and have a baby or two. You'll see."

"But I don't want a man," Teresa made a face at the very thought of being in the same bed as one. "They're all hairy, and coarse, and smell bad, yuck! Besides, why would I want to get married anyway? I have all that I could ever want right now."

"You will feel different later Teresa." Simplicia chuckled across the table from her, as if she had just heard some secret joke. "You just wait. When you find the right man, everything will change."

"Well how do I know the right one?" Teresa asked, already knowing it would certainly be no man. Men had never caught her eye, but women on the other hand…

"For starters he will treat you right, instead of just taking you for granted," Simplicia paused to take a bite from her roast pork, then continued. "But most of all, you will love him."

"So how do I know when I love someone?" Teresa asked.

"You know how you can just look at someone and they make your blood boil with passion?" Simplicia asked. Teresa found herself nodding as she remembered Nerussa walking up the stairs in front of her. "Well, that's not it. That's just lust. Young people get their first taste of lust and always think it's true love. It never is."

"If all you ever do is roll around in the hay with someone, that is just lust," the Imperial went on. "Love comes from what you do after the rolling. A lot of people find out they don't particularly like the person they are with when that happens. Sometimes they cannot even stand them! Love comes from getting to know someone, and finding that you were never really complete until after you met them. It's like they were something important that you spent your entire life without. Sure, you will not always get along. You will argue, and some things about them might get you furious, but in the end, after all of that, you still feel the same way for them. When it's just lust, it's over when that happens, because there was nothing to your relationship than sex to begin with."

Teresa stared down at her half-eaten stuffed pepper and thought about what Simplicia had said. Did she love Nerussa? Or just lust for her? "Love is for poets Teresa," the forester heard the words of Nerussa echo in her memory. She knew right then that the Altmer was not the one for her. Not the special one. She liked Nerussa, quite a bit, but would never love her.

Teresa set down her knife and fork and reached out to take Simplicia's hands in her own. "Have I ever told you what a great mother you are?"

This post has been edited by SubRosa: Jan 7 2011, 04:04 AM

[D.Foxy]

And have I ever told you, Rosy, what a great writer YOU are?

[haute ecole rider]

And I echo Fox here.

I found myself nodding along with Simplicia. All she needed to do differently was switch the male pronoun for the female and everything she said is perfect advice for Teresa (except for the silphium, natch). It doesn't matter what your sexual orientation is, love is love, and lust is lust. Two very different things. Something Simplicia obviously learned a long time ago. Some people, though, never learn that most fundamental of lessons.

Seems to me that Teresa is humble and wise enough to listen carefully to the words of someone who's been there, done that. If I'm right, then Teresa will be fine in her romantic endeavors.

[treydog]

“A girl doesn't get all Dibella'd up and disappear all night just to sell a few wine bottles."

Two things- first, Teresa does! Second- I love the line!

Our parents often surprise us the most when we discover that they are more open-minded than we expected.

And it is good to see that Teresa grasps Simplicia’s wisdom.

And the ending was perfect.

Nits:

“Just tell me your taking silphium,"

You want the other “you’re” there, I think.

Elf girl's all like to play the field when they're young.

No need for a possessive.

[Destri Melarg]

I bet that wasn’t as uncomfortable a conversation as Teresa imagined it would be. Simplicia shines again in this chapter. We should all have someone like her to set us straight on matters of the heart vs. matters of the . . . er . . . loins. And I think that Teresa is in love with Nerussa, even though she knows that the Altmer doesn’t share the feeling. I see heartbreak in Teresa’s future. Even though the lesson learned may wind up being harsh, time will forever gild the memory of it in Teresa’s mind.

[SubRosa]

D.Foxy: Nope, never!


haute ecole rider: Is anyone ever truly fine when it comes to romance, especially when they are 18?


treydog: I am glad someone liked that line. I was looking for an ES alternative to saying "all jezzied up". Thankfully Dibella volunteered to take the place of Jezebel.

Hmm, looks like my elf girls got possessive with you're apostrophe...


Destri Melarg: This little scene was one I really welcomed doing as it gave me a chance to put a spotlight on Simplicia again, and show her being a mother. A role that Teresa has been outgrowing a need for as she finds her own maturity. Yet thankfully there are a few places like this, where she still needs mommy.

As for Teresa being in love. Well, that will happen, but I am not giving anything away just yet. Although the old forum will probably gives some clues to that.


Next: A lot of world-building, not only for the next segment, but the rest of the chapter. I promise we will get to the Ayleids eventually. First however, Teresa takes another step in her transformation from street urchin to regular citizen.

* * *

Chapter 21.2 – The Last King Of The Ayleids

Teresa wove her way through the crowds along Market Way, casting an eagle eye upon the cutpurses and other urchins that lurked along the fringes of the boulevard that arced through the Market District. Normally she would not feel so paranoid. But this was no ordinary day. For today she was carrying her entire life savings in the plain cloth bag in her hands. She had looped the drawstring of the now-heavy satchel around her wrist to be extra careful, but she knew from experience how sharp the small blades used to cut purses could be, as well as the skill in which many wielded them.

Good gods this must be how normal people felt around thieves! Teresa found herself thinking. How on Nirn had she ever gone from being one to the other?

The throngs eased after she turned onto Silver Avenue and made her way along the rows of gold and silver smiths. You needed money to come down this way, the forester thought to herself, precisely why she had rarely ever done so in the past. Passing by several blocks of insulas, she finally came to a wide basilica crowned with a bronze dome long since turned green with age. The stained glass windows that lined its walls depicted a wizened figure holding up an anvil in one hand, and well-dressed figures scurried to and from its towering oak doors.

The young Bosmer paused to make sure that the laces on her light brown bodice were snug, and that it rode evenly upon her willowy frame. It was tight, but she had to admit that she liked how it made her waist seem so much more slender, her breasts larger, and especially her hips wider where the long skirt she wore flared out dramatically from underneath it. If an ordinary bodice could do this, Teresa thought, what changes might an actual corset work?

Screenshot

It was such a strange feeling after a lifetime of wearing rags. Teresa had never imagined she would ever be fussing over how she looked. She had never even imagined having clothes worth fussing over! The forester could not help but to smile faintly as she thought of Nerussa, and what the high elf might think if she could see her now.

The clanking of an Imperial Legionary marching by pulled Teresa from her reverie. She was not here to daydream about Nerussa, but rather for business. With that in mind, the forester set her shoulders and strode up the steps and through the front door of the temple.

The air within was cool and brightly illuminated by the golden sunlight slanting through the clerestory windows high overhead. The walls of the temple were decorated with frescos depicting the same bearded man in the windows. In some he held the picks or shovels of a common worker, in others the compass and drawings of an architect, and in still more the hammer and tongs of a smith. The great bronze dome she had seen outside rose over the apse at the far end of the temple, and she could see the same figure depicted there in pebble mosaic, now holding a hammer in one hand and an anvil in the other.

"Blessings of the Nine upon you goodwoman," a smooth voice came from Teresa's left. Turning, she saw a bearded man wearing a plain brown monk's cassock. The hood was thrown back, revealing his graying hair and dark black eyes. His olive features were worn and pitted with time, yet showed a gentleness all the same. "I am Father Celsus. How may the Temple of Zenithar serve thee today?"

"Umm, greetings," Teresa replied. Her heart beat faster in her chest, and she had to resist the urge to lick her lips. She had no idea why she felt so nervous. She was only planning on handing over every septim she had nearly died to gain in the last few months to a perfect stranger. How did regular people do this? she wondered.

"I'm here to deposit some money," Teresa offered when she realized that the priest was waiting patiently for her.

"Ah I see, and is this madam's first visit to our temple?" The priest motioned for Teresa to follow him as he made his way along colonnades lining either side of the long, central hall of the basilica. Teresa could see desks set up in the alcoves that lined either wall, staffed by more priests. People of all races sat before them and conversed with the priests. Yet they all had one thing in common. They wore clothing of good linen, fine velvet, or shimmering silk, and all of them had coins stacked up in front of them. There were no sack cloth beggars here!

"Yes," Teresa answered, trying not to stare at the merchants and artisans counting out their money. Now she understood why she was so nervous. It was all the money. She could not shake the nagging image of the priest suddenly whirling and fixing an accusatory finger upon her, branding her a thief and liar. Then the armed men would come and drag her away. There were always armed men in places with this much money…

With that thought the wood elf's eyes darted to the forms of the mail-clad Orisimer standing at attention along every fourth column that lined central aisle. They held spears tipped with glittering steel in their hands, and maces of brilliant mithril hung from their hips. Not one made a move toward her. In fact, they stood so still that they almost appeared to be statues. Yet Teresa could not shake the feeling of the their eyes boring a hole through the back of her head as she followed the priest by each in turn.

"Sister Honoria shall see to your needs child," the priest intoned as he ushered Teresa into one of the alcoves near the apse. Within she found another Imperial, also wearing a brown cassock. Her black hair was tied up behind her head in a simple bun, and her dark eyes were framed by crow's feet. Other than the latter, her smooth, olive skin bore few signs of age.

The priestess rose from across her rosewood desk. Putting her hands together in prayer, she nodded her head to Teresa. "Welcome to Resolution of Zenithar," she intoned. Then she sat once more and motioned for Teresa to do likewise in one of the chairs before the desk. The forester nodded back and slid onto a padded seat. "And how may we be of service today goodwoman…?"

"Teresa," the forester replied, realizing that she had yet to introduce herself. "I'm here to deposit some money. Um, I've never been here before." With that she lifted her sack and set it down upon the desk. It made a satisfying thump as the heavy coins settled upon the wooden surface.

"So this will be your first time reserving currency with our depository." It was more of a statement than a question. As Teresa sat and tried not to fidget, the priestess went on to explain that after her money was deposited, she could withdraw it from any temple of Zenithar in Tamriel. Although she did caution that that would take several weeks until that was possible in other cities, and at least a month in other provinces.

The thought of being able to withdraw the money somewhere else had never occurred to Teresa. She had just wanted someplace safe to keep it. Life was so strange. Just a few months ago she had never touched a gold coin. Now she had so many that she could not carry them all around with her! Yet she knew all of it could vanish with just one picked pocket or sticky-fingered chambermaid. Teresa was not going to let what she had worked so hard to gain slip through her fingers that easily. Hence her visit to the Temple.

Now that she did think on the priestess' words, she could see how being able to draw upon ones account in another city would be helpful. It meant that merchants would not have to lug around chests full of gold and silver everywhere they went. She could even sell loot she had won in another city and deposit the money there. Saving her from having to carry it all back to the Imperial City. Such a brilliant idea!

The priestess wrote out a pair of small forms which Teresa not only had to sign, but also supply a lock of hair for. The latter the priestess snipped from the wood elf's head with a small pair of scissors. As Teresa watched, the priestess said a prayer to Zenithar over the documents. Laying one hand upon the parchments, she raised the other over her head with a clenched fist in the classic spellcasting pose. Opening her fingers, a purple star burst from her palm and swept down her arm, finally dropping into the papers. The parchments glowed as the magic ground into them. Then a moment later the light faded, and they were just ordinary documents once more. Yet now Teresa noted that her hairs had vanished.

"This will be duplicated, and sent to each of our chapels," the Imperial explained, putting one of the parchments aside, but handing the other to Teresa. "This one is yours. It is your account slip. Bring this with you in all of your future visits, and it will facilitate things enormously."

Teresa took the small piece of parchment in her hands and stared down upon it. There was not much to it. Just her name, race, age, and a place of residence - in this case Jensine's shop as she had no regular home - and some text about it being a proof of her account at the temple. "What if I lose it, or something happens to it?" Teresa asked, looking up from the small document.

"We will still be able to verify your account," the priestess explained. "One of our clerics will just need another sample of your hair to confirm your identity. This is how we insure that only you may withdraw your funds. You wouldn't want some smooth-talking imposter to walk in and take all of your hard-earned money after all!"

Teresa smiled faintly at that. She had no idea the temple went to such extremes. Now that was well worth the hair! she thought. It also made her wonder how many people had tried such schemes in the past? It sounded like just the kind of thing Methredhel might do.

At the direction of the priestess, Teresa then emptied out her bag of coins, trying to keep the gold and silver from spilling across the Imperial's neat and tidy desk. The coins shone brightly in the sunlight, and Teresa could not stop herself from catching her breath at the pile of currency.

The priestess on the other hand, was unfazed, and Teresa imagined that she must deal with far larger piles of gold on a regular basis. The Imperial counted it all out in front of her, and when she was finally done she went to work creating more documents, these to show the amount of her funds. Afterward she once more gave one to Teresa so that she might use it to keep track of her transactions, and placed the other with the first document.

Two hundred and three septims, Teresa thought as she stared down at the slip of parchment, or over two thousand drakes. All from the plunder of three ruins. If she kept this up she would not even have to get the eight remaining Ancestors to buy Simplicia her country house. She just had to pick the right places, and perhaps by the Old Life Festival at the end of year she could make the old woman's dream come true at last!

This post has been edited by SubRosa: Oct 27 2010, 12:01 AM

[haute ecole rider]

So that's what we need to do with all that money!

It always seemed incongruous in the game that we can't stash that gold somewhere safe, and equally ludicrous that no one ever pickpockets your purse, no matter how large it gets!

Loved the touch with the hair. DNA typing, ES style! (BTW, that's now required to register Morgan horses, and I'm sure many other horse breeds as well)

Noticed a couple of typos:

"I am Father Celsus. How may the Temple of Zeinthar serve thee today?"

It's Zenithar.

Although she did caution that that would take several weeks until that was possible in other cities, and at least a month in over provinces.

Did you mean outer provinces?

Laying one hand upon the parchments, she raised the other over head with a clenched fist in the classic spellcasting pose.

Seems you're missing a pronoun here - over her head. Or perhaps you meant overhead?

[Destri Melarg]

It seems that your knowledge of the Tamrielic pantheon has improved. Making Zenithar’s Temple the gold depository is wonderfully appropriate. I especially loved the touch of the priests and priestesses saying a prayer over the money. That doesn’t sound like the actions of the clergy at all!

I imagine that the lock of hair came into play after some old greybeard dismissed the idea of using a vial of the depositor’s blood. Given the liberal use of magic throughout the Empire, the use of a few strands of hair is pretty benign compared to what might have been used.

And now Teresa finds herself amongst the moneyed gentry. She should bring Methredhel with her on her next visit!

A nit:

People of all races sat before the them and conversed with the priests.

[Acadian]

I got to read two stories!

I.

"But I don't want a man," Teresa made a face at the very thought of being in the same bed as one. "They're all hairy, and coarse, and smell bad, yuck!

No worries Teresa. I feel exactly the same way!

Oh, you make us love Simpicia! Bravo, SubRosa!


II.

Teresa looks lovely in her outfit! Thanks for the screenie. That blouse looks great on her!

I love your banking with biometrics! How wonderfully magical! Clever indeed!