Jerric's Story, A Nord's Adventures in Cyrodiil Options

[Burnt Sierra]

Goody. Weekly update time!

I didn’t end up posting a reply for last weeks entry, as I wasn’t quite sure what to say. The entry stood totally alone, and I wasn’t certain how it fitted into Abiene’s journey at this point in the story, so I thought I’d wait for the next update and a little context, and post a reply at that point to both updates. Which has arrived and helps! And now you get a double length reply, you poor thing.

Now, gliding over her poor opinion of Altmers (I have an entire roster of ESO, Morrowind, Oblivion and Skyrim characters muttering away over here ), the diary entry tells of quite a harrowing examination and a commentary on how life, or the cheapness of life, is viewed. With the benefit of context from the next update, a couple of things then jump out at me a little more from that diary entry.

“Its life energy rushed into mine through my outstretched hands. Hot joy churned in my chest, mixed with a keening horror. I heard my victim's groan along with a shriek. The cry had come from my throat.”

Hot joy churned in my chest, mixed with a keening horror. First of all, I’ve got to say, what a sentence! And shows, so beautifully, the conflict between the wanting to heal, but savouring the power.

And now, back in Chorrol in the almost, I assume, present time, where let us not forget, an Oblivion gate is very shortly about to open outside the city when Jerric arrives:

“Though I knew a spell to clean my hands, I would save my magicka for the afternoon's treatments and utilize mundane solutions for ordinary tasks. I have a mage's pride in her spells and a healer's need to use them on everyone.”

And then jumping back to the diary entry:

“She reserved her sharpest disdain for those who dared question her. Though she far outranked me, I had done so at every opportunity. Then Curciel received her Mastery. Pride, ever my companion, was not my friend.”

Pride. A pride in her abilities, and a pride in proving them. A desire to heal, but an inner conflict to how Restoration can also be used. A discourse on how life is viewed, when it comes to Goblins and so called “lesser races,” at a time when Daedra might soon be swarming outside the city. Not to mention how Curciel and Raminus’s disagreement in the exam might suggest a link to the conflict between the Mage’s Guild and the Necromancers who left - Curciel really did scream Necromancer to me. And there was even time, even in a period of religious peace, to suggest a little conflict (which has been mentioned before too) between her devotion to Dibella and how followers of other Divines consider themselves superior. An awful lot packed in those updates.

Final note, like Acadian, I’m really enjoying your switch to first person, it’s allowing her personality to shine through so well.

Now, let’s finish with the pointing out of a beautiful imagery moment:

“But it kept the rain beading up and rolling off like water on a swan's wings.”

Oh, yes, that’s lovely. Not just the picture it creates, but the rhythm of the sentence is extremely satisfying too! An honourable mention to, "The smirk oozed through her voice", as well. Say that out loud with an elongation of the ooze and it gives such a clarity to their relationship.

All that’s left to say is S.G.M. and roll on next Tuesday!

[Grits]

Previously: Starting her mid-day break, Abiene walked through the rain to visit Seed-Neeus at Northern Goods and Trade.

Acadian: I love writing for Abiene in first person! She would have it no other way. Her voice has been strong from the beginning, even when she hadn’t even appeared in the story yet. It has also been fun to write for a character who is going about their own business for the most part with the Oblivion crisis happening around her. She still has a lot on her mind that has nothing to do with daedra. She makes me want to write some pre-crisis adventures. Thank you, Acadian!

SubRosa: I forgot until I looked in my notes that Abiene also has a Resist Frost + Resist Heat ring from Jerric. She is well equipped to deal with the weather even with her curly hair. Thank you, Rosa!

Burnt Sierra: I thought of how many times your ESO Altmers have picked Jerric up off the floor when I was writing Abiene’s opinion! I’m sure by now she’s softened (and grown up) a bit, especially after getting to know Carahil. I’m glad you shone a light on Abiene’s pride. It has been at the root of some of her big mistakes. Like when she experimented on Jerric’s scar back in Anvil so that Darnand could weigh in on how she did it – without first explaining anything to Jerric. The push-pull going on in Abiene’s head makes her fun to write. Thank you, Burnt!

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Chapter 21: Underneath, Part Two

No sooner had I reached the shop level than the door chimes rang again. Three women entered, pushing back their hoods. Two looked close to my age but younger. The third had gray streaks in her hair and a pregnant belly, obvious even under her cloak. Mud stained their hems at least two feet deep.

"Welcome to Northern Goods and Trade." Seed-Neeus's tone lacked its customary warmth.

The two younger women practically bowed out of the way of the third, then followed her up the stairs.

"Seed-Neeus," she said, "your delivery is late. I have come to make the trade myself."

"The rains have made the roads impassable for my wagon," Seed-Neeus said. A sharp note of musk hit my nostrils.

"I don't need excuses. I need my supplies." The woman's protruding eyes and downturned mouth made me think of a bullfrog. When she scratched where one lower lid met a puffy cheek, dry skin flaked off. Even her hands looked bloated. The swelling combined with her age and advanced stage of pregnancy rang alarm bells in my head.

Seed-Neeus drew her skirts away from the woman. "Do you wish to receive your entire order?"

The woman gave a sharp nod, then frowned at the taller of the others. "Marta, see to— Ugh, useless. I'll supervise the packing myself."

"As you wish." With an apologetic glance at me, Seed-Neeus led her back down the stairs.

I was left faced with the two young women. "My name is Abiene. I'm a healer at the Chapel of Stendarr. Won't you come by the fire? I don't work here, but let me help make you comfortable."

"I'm Marta, ma'am."

I gave a little laugh as I took her cloak. "Did you just 'ma'am' me? Please, you'll make me feel old. Call me Abiene." Marta's wind-flushed and freckled complexion marked her as Colovian. She wore an undyed woolen tunic over a roughly-stitched skirt.

"I'm Ruby." She handed me her cloak.

Ruby was also an Imperial, but with the darker coloring and slimmer frame of a Nibenean. Her gray blouse had probably once been white, and the blue of her jacquard skirt was also faded with long use. Most striking was her bodice, loosely laced in the front with ties that had been repaired. The fabric's deep red meant money in any culture. Embroidered garden flowers and songbirds in every color under Magnus ran from the waist all the way up to the shoulders.

I draped the cloaks over a bench to dry. "Here, let's pull up this chair. Do you think your…" I paused for an explanation of who the third woman was.

"Sister-wife," Ruby said, her eyes on the rug.

"Ravenna," said Marta at the same time. The two shared a look of companionable misery.

I was not entirely certain what a sister-wife was, but I could guess. I mustered a pleasant tone. "You share a plural marriage? The three of you?"

"It's legal," Marta said.

"I'm just a healer at the chapel, not some priestess or constable. "

"Three of us and one husband," Marta said in a flat tone. "We're from Hackdirt. That's how they do it there."

"Have you always lived in Hackdirt?"

"No." Marta gestured at Ruby. "She's the newest. Ravenna found us at the same place. That camp south of Weynon Village."

Ruby's gaze shifted to some unseen distance.

I knew better than to pursue that subject. "Ruby, is that your needlework?"

Ruby nodded.

This told me more than she would have been comfortable sharing, I was certain. Ruby's extravagant embroidery demonstrated not only her prowess and the cost of the materials to make the garment, it also told of a solid support system in place around her. Only a family that could spare a daughter's time would have allowed her to develop such skill. I was a fellow gently-reared daughter. I knew the investment Ruby's family had made in her needlework. Displaying it reflected well on all of them.

But Ruby had clearly come down in the world since she had created her bodice. What had become of her family? Plural marriage could be the result of loving matches, but was most often a religious arrangement. My fingers curled against my palms as I looked at her chapped, dirty hands.

"It's lovely!" I said. "Such detail!"

Ruby smoothed her hands over her front. That's when I saw her little belly.

"Ruby," I said, "I see you are with child. Congratulations! When is your baby due?"

Her face crumpled. "Frostfall. Abiene. I'm due in Frostfall."

She was far too small at this stage for my liking. "Have you a healer in Hackdirt? I don't mean to intrude, but may I offer you assistance in any way? I work with…" Words failed me. How to suggest that these two could be counted among the unhoused and impoverished when they had just informed me of their home and family status?

Ruby gripped my forearm in her cold hands. "I cannot offer you payment. Please, if you could do anything, just to let me know… Is my baby… all right?"

Marta gave Ruby's shoulders a quick squeeze. "I'll head her off if she starts to come up here." She took two silent steps toward the stairs.

"I get the sense that your sister-wife would not approve," I said, "however that concerns me not one bit. Shall I give you a quick examination? You needn't undress. She'll never know."

Ruby replied by pressing my hands against her baby bump.

My magicka was still low from the morning's treatments, but I had enough to check. "Your baby is growing well for the time you told me. How much would you like to know?" I meant would she like to know if she carried a boy or a girl. Some religions looked down on mortal meddling in what they thought should be Mother Mara or some other maternal deity's realm of influence.

Ruby sounded breathless. "Does it have— I mean, its eyes. You've seen Ravenna. Is my baby going to be like that?"

"Your baby is developing normally. Is there a reason your sister-wife's condition would manifest in your child?"

"We think she really is our husband's sister," Marta whispered.

"They have the same…" Ruby made a gesture with her fingers around her face, opening her eyes wide to bug them out.

"Ah, I see." My stomach heaved.

"I suppose you wonder how we stand it," Ruby said. "Do not judge us harshly. Neither of us would have chosen this life, if we knew what was in store for us."

Marta spoke over her shoulder. "When you're gettin' done to by many and out in the cold with no one to speak up for you, it ain't so bad to only do for one and have a roof for shelter."

"That's what she told us," Ruby said. "First Marta and then me, when she met us at the Weynon camp."

"Was there no guard, or—" I stopped myself. Obviously there was no better solution, or either one would have taken it. The situation at the Chorrol refugee camp was no less dire. Guards were spread thin by the crisis and spent little time inside the camp. Some folk came to Chorrol for the sole purpose of preying on displaced people. Young Valdi had sought treatment at the chapel and been turned away, but found me for help. Many others lacked the persistence. Even with my intervention such that it was, Valdi continued to suffer at the camp.

Marta motioned Ruby over to listen at the stairs, then took her place at my side. "I don't want to have no goggle-eyed frog baby. I know I promised I would take whatever the… gods gave me, but you're a healer. Can you help me?"

"Marta, are you with child?" Her sturdy figure could hide several months, unlike Ruby's underfed frame. I had herbs that would bring on a woman's cycle, but that could end the promise of a life. As much as I held up a woman's right to determine her fate, I was loathe to be the agent of ending someone before they began.

"I don't know." Her voice was a whispered wail. "With Ravenna pregnant and now Ruby he's on me every day. I ain't never had no kid before. Maybe I can't have one, gods willing." She drew a hiccuping breath.

I placed my palm on her belly. "No, and it feels as if your cycle will begin within about week."

"Thank you. Every time my moons come around, I don't even know who to pray to any more."

Most human women shared a similar cycle. There was some variation over time, but our bodies' tides ebbed and flowed with the moons that marked their beginning. Elves were different from humans of course, and the tailed races varied even from one another. It was difficult to tell whom to believe about such matters, however. Despite a large amount of first-hand testimony on the subject, there were numerous tomes no doubt written by males that contradicted even my own findings.

Regardless, there were steps that Marta could take to prevent pregnancy. Some were simpler than others. All required at least some preparation.

"Marta, what do you know about preventing yourself from becoming pregnant?"

"I know to make the boys spill their seed on your legs or on your belly, but that don't work with Bertollo. He's tryin' to put his baby in me."

"Does Bertollo have any other children?" We were running out of time, but I wondered about the possibility of birth defects.

"He did but the boys up and died. His girl run away I heard, but that's just what they'll whisper. There's no daughter of his buried in the boneyard, at least not marked."

There was so much to follow up on in that statement, I didn't know where to start. "Did you ever see any of his children? Did they have the... " In an admittedly unprofessional gesture, I waved my fingers in a circle around one eye.

"Ain't no little ones left, not in any of the houses. Only my brother, and he's no relation. That's why they're after wives. And why we had to walk here for Ravenna's goods. It's only two days til their ritual."

Ruby made a hurry-up motion, eyes wide.

"If you can cast spells—"

"I can't," said Marta.

"All right. I'll send some herbs in a packet with instructions, and some seeds so you can grow your own."

"Ruby can read it for me. Miss Abiene, you can't just send it to us on a shipment. They'll kill me if they think I'm tryin' not to get with child."

The clump of Ravenna's boots preceded her voice. "You two've lazed about long enough. Get down here before this lizard tries to cheat me again. Move it! We have ground to cover before nightfall."

Marta and Ruby scurried down the stairs, fastening their cloaks. I followed, at a loss. Ravenna showed signs of a potentially dangerous condition that could cause early labor. Another hard day's journey would not be healthy for her, but I had no grounds to tell her what to do.

I thought quickly as they sorted their bundles. "Would you like a hand with your packs? I can help you as far as the stable."

Ravenna didn't spare me so much as a glance. "What do I have at the stable? Even a cart won't get down the creek banks. Keep your hands to yourself."

Seed-Neeus flicked her fingers through the air. "The bridge is out? You did not mention this. I planned to bring the rest of my shipment once the rains stopped."

"I ain't your town crier," Ravenna said. "Bring the rest or don't, no matter to me. I got what I need, and not a day too soon no thanks to you. Our gods won't wait."

"You will carry all this on your backs?" Now I was alarmed for all three of them, hiking through the muddy woods with no magic at all to protect them.

Ravenna curled her lip at me. "We ain't your soft, city type. We never had walls and we don't need 'em. You keep your heads down and pray for your hides, and we'll live free and fear no one."

Ruby staggered a step when she shouldered her pack.

"It's half her weight," I said to Seed-Neeus while Ravenna hectored her sister-wives.

"She will not wait for delivery," Seed-Neeus said.

Ravenna led the two young women out the door without a word of farewell.

Seed-Neeus let out a sigh that collapsed her shoulders, then straightened. "Let us adjourn for our pot of tea. I feel the need for refreshment in body and spirit."

"Tea and warm company is just the prescription." I followed her down the passageway.