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

[Grits]

haute ecole rider: I don’t know what it is about beautiful Gweden Farm that made me want to paint it with blood. Probably a combination of hideous draperies and the sour grapes of knowing I can’t get back inside!!

mALX: I was so paranoid about spelling “seamen” correctly! Well, Thurindil reportedly has the potential to scare the fish, so… Thank you, mALX!!

SubRosa: I can see it now. “Darnand, you seem upset. You should definitely bone me.” Then when people pass her on the street they could say she has the hoo-ha of a healer.

Acadian: Darnand is extremely difficult for me to write! He doesn’t talk much, and he’s way smarter than me. Thank you for your kind words about his quote.

D. Foxy: Thank you, Foxy! Darnand had kind of a rough night.

Thomas Kaira: Since he went from zero to daedroth, I’m sure no one will cut in front of him in line, ever again.

Captain Hammer: Darnand the playa, trying to pick up women without touching anything in the bar. I’m sure the dismemberments just sparked an overdue redecorating. Those curtains had to go!

ghastley: Looks like Darnand’s pimping career has had a setback. Still, I guess he could offer blood baths?

Where we are: Darnand ended his second real fight with death by daedroth. Up next: some girl time.


Chapter 10: Septims, Part 16

Abiene pulled the white wrap from her hair, straightening her back in a painful stretch. She thought by now it must be Sundas. An emergency patient had claimed the hours after Jerric had taken his leave. Their golden afternoon already seemed a distant memory. Now her patient was resting upstairs. Her magicka was depleted. She felt the emptiness inside her more acutely than the soreness from her muscles.

Yanerion finished wiping down the table. They had used the procedure room so that the boy’s cries would not disturb the patients sleeping in the main hall above. Now they were alone. The Altmer folded his cloth and placed it in the basin with the others. Abiene waited while he prepared himself to speak.

“I believe that lad’s parents nearly cost him his life,” he said quietly. “What recourse do we have when someone has been careless with a child?”

Anger and helplessness still twisted in Abiene’s stomach. Below it lurked the fear that the next time she would not be able to save him. “None,” she said shortly. “He is theirs.”

“You have exhausted yourself again.” Yanerion’s eyes remained downcast, his tone respectful. “I could have finished for you.”

Abiene leaned her hip against the high table. She watched Yanerion’s face carefully. “I had to cause him terrible pain. I wanted to be the one who took it away.”

Yanerion nodded. “I understand.”

“You already possess a delicate touch. Your skill is not in question.”

The Altmer’s golden cheeks flushed. “I thank you for the reassurance.”

Abiene found his formal tone irritating. She reached up and rubbed her neck. “You should go on to the guild hall. I know you’ve been here all day. Perhaps Hjordhild made a plate for you. You’re the only one she’ll serve after hours, and you could use a hot meal.”

“As could you.” Yanerion’s long face held concern. “How many days have you gotten by on soup and kahve? There is one more lesson I would have you teach me before you leave for Chorrol, Magister. How does a healer care for herself?”

Abiene’s mind leaped straight to Jerric. Find someone who loves you and don’t let them go, she thought. But I can’t do it.

Yanerion saved her from having to answer. “Hjordhild favors me because I help her with her back,” he continued. “She injures it repeatedly, and will until she accepts her limits or suffers permanent harm. I watch you exhaust yourself and wonder at the cost.” He stepped around the table and reached for her hands. Reluctantly Abiene gave them to him. “I may appear as a lad, but I am many years your senior. I hope you will take my words as coming from one who respects you, and not a student’s impudence. Please look after yourself in Chorrol. I fear that you will not last.”

Abiene had the urge to snatch her hands away and slap his face. Then she let herself feel his sincerity. Altmeri seldom touch, she realized. I don’t remember when Yanerion ever took my hand outside of lessons. I’m not being fair to him.

She squeezed his fingers. “I’m just tired. You and I are much alike, Yanerion. Healing is not a vocation, but a calling. I expect before long you will find your own way to Chorrol. Perhaps by then I will have found the answer.” She dropped his hands and walked briskly to the door. “Come, let’s go back together. I want a long soak in a hot tub, and you ought to put some meat on your bones. You may have twice my years, but I suspect you’re still growing. The guild hall has everything we’ll need tonight.”

They moved quietly through the dimly lit healing hall, careful not to disturb the sleeping patients. Yanerion took her soiled robe with his to the laundry. She waited for him outside the front door.

The cold night air bore a hint of low tide and wood smoke. Abiene stepped out from under the torchlight and looked up at the stars. Formed from the blood of Anu, she mused. The source of magicka from Aetherius. Another wonder that I take for granted until it’s gone. She shivered, wishing she had worn her cloak.

Yanerion joined her, and they walked in silence around to the front of the guild hall. They found Thaurron passing through the entry, chattering with Sparky the imp. When he looked over at them, his face filled with reproof. “Again, my dear? Go and retrieve your night clothes. I shall warm your bath.” Thaurron disappeared with the alacrity of his race.

Abiene felt herself flush and glanced up at Yanerion. His expression matched his neutral tone. “Good night, Magister.”

“Good night, Yanerion.” She gave him a small smile. “I’ve found that mother hens come in all shapes and sizes.”

“Indeed.” He smiled back and walked toward the kitchens.

Abiene stepped into Felen’s day room. The Dunmer sat with his legs crossed under a book, silver wine goblet in his hand. Green brocade and velvet provided a background for the lavish display of gold trim on his doublet. That outfit is worthy of Sidette, thought Abiene. She had only met a few folk who could out-dress her ostentatious sister. “Good evening, Felen.”

Felen smiled up absently. “Good evening, Abiene. You missed a lively dinner. Darnand and Gulitte were at one another’s throats. Highly entertaining.”

As much affection as Abiene had for Felen, she had no stomach for gossip. “It still smells like roast pheasant.”

“That is what we had. I shall not tease you with a description, other than to suggest you go in search of the apple pie that followed. Our Nord failed to join us this evening, so there may be a piece left.” They shared a smile. No mortal ever loved pie more than Jerric.

“Thank you for the suggestion. I’ll say good night.” She walked through to the stairs, knowing that Felen’s attention would already be back in his book.

Abiene collected her things from her bedchamber and walked down the hall in her dressing gown. The long bathing chamber contained three metal tubs, each with a small table beside it. White marble tiles covered the floor. Attractively carved cupboards hung on the walls, concealing general supplies and personal items. Folding screens could be moved to provide privacy, but Abiene doubted that anyone else would want a bath at this hour. Thaurron stood beside the tub at the end, trailing his fingers in the water. Steam carried the soothing scents of lavender and sage into the air. Sparky hovered near the open window, his wings wafting the last traces of destruction magic out into the night.

“Thank you,” Abiene said fervently. She placed her towels and nightdress on the table, then retrieved her basket of bathing supplies. “Will you stay and chat?”

“I’m afraid I’m not very good company this evening.” Thaurron gave her a sad smile. “I planned to go fetch you a cup of soup from the night hearth. I can tell you don’t have an appetite, but you should drink it anyway. You look worn out, my dear.”

“No soup tonight, I dined with Jerric. You look tired, too, Thaurron.” Abiene slipped out of her dressing gown and stepped into the hot bath. “Perfect,” she told him. He smiled wider at the praise, keeping his eyes averted. Abiene knew her bare skin held no interest for him, but he was unfailingly polite. She ducked under the water and reached for her shampoo jar while she still had the energy.

“I am tired,” he said. “Today I taught Flash Bolt to an adventurer from Cheydinhal. He kept burning his own hands, and I had to keep healing him so he would have enough magicka to practice the spell.” Thaurron plopped down on a low stool and leaned against the warm tub. Sparky flew over and tried to land on his shoulder. “Close the window first,” Thaurron told him. Abiene shut her eyes and rubbed shampoo through her hair. She heard the window latch click, and Thaurron chuckled. “There’s a good lad.”

Abiene ducked under the water again, working the suds out with her fingers. She emerged and sighed, leaning back against the tub’s high back. “I don’t know how you get the water just right. I always leave it too cold, or the tub gets too hot to sit in. You have a gift.”

“I have the gift of practice.” Sparky crouched on Thaurron’s narrow shoulder, his wicked claws folded under his hands. He had his wings folded back and his arms wrapped around his raised knees. He closed his glowing eyes and leaned his small head against Thaurron’s.

“Even your imp is sleepy. Better get him to bed. Shall I come in to say good night?”

“I hope you will.” Thaurron reached up to brace Sparky with one hand while he rose, but the imp jumped off and flew ahead of him. “Otherwise I’ll think you’ve fallen asleep in here, and I’ll have to send Gulitte in to check on you.”

Abiene snorted. “I can’t imagine less welcome company.”

“That thought was shared by others at dinner.” Thaurron’s eyes held a glint of amusement. “It was the Battle of the Bretons.” He stepped out into the hall, closing the door behind him.

Abiene worked conditioning cream through her hair, pulling out the tangles with her fingers. She breathed out her stress, and drew calm into her body with the scented steam. Her hair piled onto her head to keep it out of the water, she leaned back and closed her eyes while the conditioner did its work. Her mind drifted as she enjoyed her soak.

The holidays are nearly upon us, she thought. She wondered how the guild celebrated Saturalia. An exchange of small gifts would be customary, but Anvil may have different traditions than Leyawiin. No doubt there would be a great deal more drinking, particularly on the Waterfront. The healing hall would see an increase in business, she guessed.

New Life Festival might find her already on her way to Chorrol. I’ll send my trunk as soon as I receive confirmation, she decided. Then I’ll follow when I can by express carriage. I don’t want to miss any time with Jerric. Her mind wandered through thoughts of him while the bath water cooled.

She stood and reached for her soap before she could talk herself into a midnight walk to the beach. Her bath left a trace of oil on her skin, and she rubbed it in firmly. Rinsing herself without soaking the floor held her attention. Her tired mind stayed blank.

Pleasantly warm and relaxed, she stood on the tiles and worked the hand pump as the tub drained. The handle was enchanted with a charm to increase the operator’s strength, so she easily sent the water up through the pipes to the cistern above the adjacent necessary. Bath water flushed the waste away there. The system made indoor facilities possible in a warm climate.

She tidied the bathing chamber and rinsed her hands in cool water before she slipped her nightdress over her head. With her dressing gown belted around her waist again, she padded down the stairs to the kitchen in her slippers. She had no cure for Thaurron’s melancholy, but she did know how to make his favorite tea.

She glanced at Darnand’s door on her way back to Thaurron’s chamber. Still no light under it. He’s probably in the basement, she thought. Or still out with Jerric, wherever they went. Small noises from the bathing chamber gave her another possibility for his whereabouts. She tapped on Thaurron’s door and entered, balancing her tray.

Thaurron’s chamber held a double bed, a relic of the days when he shared it with his late wife. Her clothing still hung in one of the wardrobes, according to the chambermaids’ gossip. Sparky lay at the foot of the bed, curled in the shreds of a velvet lap robe. Letting Sparky keep his stolen prizes only encouraged his bad behavior, but Abiene could understand the idea that a living creature was more important than material things. Of course she kept her own possessions under lock and key. At least since the time he ate her skin cream, then regurgitated on her rug.

Thaurron sat up with pillows at his back and a book on the coverlet in front of him. He beamed at Abiene in the candlelight. “You made my tea.”

She handed him the cup, and he slid over on the bed. “Stay comfortable,” she told him. She placed the tray on the bedside table and climbed up, pulling one of his bare feet into her lap.

“Won’t you have some?”

Dear gods, no, thought Abiene. Roasted bones steeped with salt and powdered sinew. “No thank you. I’ve already cleaned my teeth.” She took Thaurron’s small foot in her hands, kneading the ball with her thumbs. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Thaurron sighed. “No, my dear. It is a sorrow that comes and goes, like clouds crossing over the sun. Recent losses bring old ones near again.” He sipped his tea and leaned back into the pillows. “Your sweetness is light enough until the shadow passes.”

“I’m going to miss you, my friend. You have been a refuge to me.”

Thaurron’s keen gaze seemed to pierce her. “There is much you are not saying. Heat in your eyes and sand in your shoes this past week. What will you do, Abiene?”

“I’ll go to Chorrol.” Abiene found herself blinking back tears. “And he’ll go on to who knows what. I can’t think about it, Thaurron.”

The Bosmer pulled his feet back and leaned forward. “No, my dear. What will you do about Darnand?”

Abiene stared at him in surprise.

Thaurron nodded thoughtfully. “Then the fool has still not declared himself. Well, until he does, he cannot deserve you.”

“Did he say something to you?”

“No. I know only what my eyes can see.” They sat in companionable silence until Thaurron finished his tea. “Do you wish to stay tonight? I am prepared to overlook wet hair on my pillows.”

Abiene slipped off the bed, smiling. “I’ll go to my chamber. You snore awfully, and I need rest.”

“It’s the imp.” Thaurron leaned toward her.

Abiene kissed him on the cheek. “Shame on you, blaming the poor creature. You must give him silk to shred as an apology.”

Thaurron tucked his feet under the coverlet. “Leave your door open, and I am sure he will find some. Good night, my dear. May your dreams be sweet.”

“And yours.” Abiene closed the door behind her and stood in the dim corridor.

Thaurron’s words confirmed her suspicions, but now it brought no joy. Instead she hoped Darnand would never mention it. As much as she cared for him, her heart knew that her answer would be no.

Now light flickered under Darnand’s door. She wondered if he was reading in bed, or sitting up at the small desk in his chamber. She imagined him bent over a book, shadows playing over his features. When I think of him, he’s never looking back at me, she realized. But yesterday morning in the healing hall, he had. The respect and admiration that had filled his face still gave her a thrill. She knew in that moment Darnand had seen the deepest part of her, and he had embraced it.

Then the dark hall faded away, and another vision filled her mind. Her Nord’s face lit by the sunset, with eyes the color of firelight through Cyrodiilic brandy.

The man I wanted might finally turn toward me, she thought. But I’ve reached for the one who’s going to walk away.

[haute ecole rider]

That was a chapter for the girls, indeed!

The interactions between Abiene and her Guild mates was interesting and heartwarming. Here we see Abiene at her maternal/sisterly best, looking after the men around her.

And Sparky the imp is quite the trouble maker, I see. Thaurron needs to do a slightly better job training that creature! Though his treatment of Marc in an earlier post was a lot of fun!

[mALX]

*

Thaurron’s chamber held a double bed, a relic of the days when he shared it with his late wife. Her clothing still hung in one of the wardrobes, according to the chambermaids’ gossip. Sparky lay at the foot of the bed, curled in the shreds of a velvet lap robe. Letting Sparky keep his stolen prizes only encouraged his bad behavior, but Abiene could understand the idea that a living creature was more important than material things. Of course she kept her own possessions under lock and key. At least since the time he ate her skin cream, then regurgitated on her rug.

Perfect imagery you gave this scene stealing imp!

“You snore awfully, and I need rest.”

“It’s the imp.”

“Shame on you, blaming the poor creature. You must give him silk to shred as an apology.”

“Leave your door open, and I am sure he will find some.”

ROFL !!! Sparky has become quite the celeb ... er ... personality!

Then the dark hall faded away, and another vision filled her mind. Her Nord’s face lit by the sunset, with eyes the color of firelight through Cyrodiilic brandy.

The man I wanted might finally turn toward me, she thought. But I’ve reached for the one who’s going to walk away.

Powerful ending to the homespun feel of the chapter! The reader may have seen this blow coming, but gets the feeling this is the first time Abiene has realized the impact of her actions/heart. It also seems Darnand won't be the only one missing her when she goes to Chorrol, she has a soothing effect on all the men and may evoke a pilgrimmage of the Anvil chapter to Chorrol behind her when she goes, lol.

Great Chapter, wonderfully written !!!


*

This post has been edited by mALX: May 26 2011, 04:00 PM

[SubRosa]

Edit: That all came out wrong, not the way I had intended it to appear at all.

But now back to the current episode:
How does a healer care for herself?”
Abiene’s mind leaped straight to Jerric. Find someone who loves you and don’t let them go, she thought
Ahh, the classic mistake. That of course, only makes things worse. Because it only adds one more person she has to take care of. Back in my Human Sexuality class in college, I learned that married women are the most unhealthy people in the world, because they have to spend so much time taking care of everyone in their household, that there is literally no time for them to take care of themselves. And of course no one else is going to do it for them.

Formed from the blood of Anu
A nice touch of world-building there.

No mortal ever loved pie more than Jerric.
Yes, hair-pie!

All in all, a lovely segment, giving us a look into Abiene's life at the guild hall, her ordinary trials with the abused child, etc... Thaurron really shines here. You have given him a great deal of depth and personality in a very short space, making him and his pet imp leap off the page. I wish I had someone like him to warm my bath water. I always make it too hot, or too cold as well...




nits:
And he’ll go on to who knows what.
I am thinking you wanted to end with a question mark here.

This post has been edited by SubRosa: May 30 2011, 04:16 PM

[mALX]

* Gripe removed. I just wish the adults on here would remember that this site is primarily here for and filled with minors. Our attitudes in everything we say and do on here as adults should reflect that and be cognizant of and responsible with the impressions we are leaving with our words.

This post has been edited by mALX: May 26 2011, 10:13 PM

[SubRosa]

I probably should have clarified what I said about Darnand getting some action now. Before he was always a decent guy who treated Abiene and other women with respect. You know a nice guy, and hence destined to die a virgin. OTOH it is Jerric's bad boy status that got Abiene into his bed. He's a thug, unlike all the other men in the Mages Guild. So it makes sense that any straight girl would notice him quick (and given what we have seen so far, that happens a lot, pierced labias and all!).

Now the ultimate bad boy is of course not merely an a-hole and a thug, but a killer. That is as bad as it gets. Well almost, the only topper is man who not only kills, but kills women. Prison is filled with murderers of women like Richard Ramirez who have gigantic female fan clubs who are literally dying to have sex with them. Don't ask me to explain why, it's a straight girl thing. But it's very real.

Darnand just achieved that ultimate level of bad boy-ness. He did not just kill 3 people in one fell swoop, but 3 women. He is definitely not a nice guy any more. You can't be considered nice with that on your resume. Now he's a dangerous man. To quote Jerric's own self-reference: a man who looks like he is on his way to a killing, and he might stop to do some raping first. He is going to be beating straight girls off with a daedroth from now on.

I have seen you spout this "anti-straight women" generalizations repeatedly on numerous threads in this forum lately, and they are as ridiculous as it would be for anyone else on here to say "all lesbians are like this, all gays are like blah blah, all blacks are ____"

What you are spouting is a predjudice one does not expect from someone as educated and supposedly open-minded as you are.

Not every straight woman is a baddie-chaser, and I (for one) find your generalization offensive. Please resist categorizing people of which you obviously cannot know the majority of, nor find the inclination to know about. I don't like being pigeonholed with the few you have learned of through whatever means. This site is filled with minors that should not be exposed to predjudice of any kind by the adults on here.

I am sorry that you take it that way. I do worry about people thinking something like that, and often bite my lip. But the fact of the matter is that I have never met a woman (who was attracted to men), who was not attracted to bad boys. And I have met a lot of women! I do not think of that as degrading or demeaning of them. It just is what it is, and I am not the first person to notice it.

But since you commented, in the future I will refrain from making any remarks about the subject. I am not here to offend you.

[Acadian]

Grits, this was a delightfully written episode. The style is both silky and subtle, while the content was simultaneously relaxing and powerful. Just some examples:

'The cold night air bore a hint of low tide and wood smoke.'

'Green brocade and velvet provided a background for the lavish display of gold trim on his doublet. '

“There is much you are not saying. Heat in your eyes and sand in your shoes this past week. What will you do, Abiene?”


My heart aches for Abiene (and Jerric and Darnand, and our Bosmeri widower).

Sparky tends to the steal the show whenever he graces anyone's fanfic, but your content here was so good that even the Sparkmeister could not upstage Abiene.

In case it isn't clear, I thoroughly enjoyed this!

[Thomas Kaira]

Very, very enjoyable, and I don't say that lightly here. Abiene is fast becoming one of my favorite characters ever. You are competing with published authors now, Grits, that is how well you have done with her.

Of course she kept her own possessions under lock and key. At least since the time he ate her skin cream, then regurgitated on her rug.



I am at loss for words. All I can say is don't stop now, cause I'm having such a good time. (I'm having a ball!)

[Grits]

haute ecole rider: Indeed, this one could have been titled “Abiene’s Slumber Party.” If she ever visits the guild in Bravil, it will be estrogen overload. I have to give TK the credit for the scene where Sparky lit Marc’s shirt on fire, that was in Light Through Darkness. He hasn’t attacked anyone in this story, I’m afraid my Carahil would draw the line there! Still, Thaurron has shown that taming a creature is far from training it. He could use a visit from the Imp Whisperer.

mALX: You’re absolutely right, this is the first time Abiene has really faced what she knows, that the two of them are heading off in opposite directions. She would take Thaurron with her to Chorrol if she could! I’m glad you enjoyed Sparky’s antics!

SubRosa: I hope I can clear something up about the way I have portrayed Jerric. I don’t think it’s coming across. Jerric drinks, gets in fights, and has a lot of casual sex. Sometimes he has to kill people. That does not make him an alcoholic, thug, bully, rapist, or murderer. It also does not make him a good candidate for priesthood. If I haven’t objected to the term bad boy applied to him, it’s because I did not think it was being used as a synonym for evil man.

One of the things I’ve tried to show is Jerric not cashing in on his dangerous appearance. (Meaning physically imposing, scarred, and generally armed to the teeth.) He shut down Astia in Skingrad because he thought she was misjudging him. He decided that Anette in Weye was too young to make an informed decision about him. The tweenage girls in Weye are an example of people who saw his character. They judged him based on his behavior, smiling and helping a local fisherman. They would not have been giggling and sneaking peeks if they felt threatened. I hope I showed that Abiene was drawn to him because he reminded her of her sweet boyfriend from home that she still has feelings for. She found out quickly that Jerric is likeable, and he made her laugh. Score. I would say that being a decent guy got him laid that day. She didn’t think he was a thug at all, and that appealed to him.

Here’s the context for his killing/raping remark:

They wandered toward the edge of the crowd, sipping their drinks. “You are outrageous,” Abiene said. “Is there anyone you don’t flirt with?”

“I have to compensate. Folk don’t tend to like me right away.”

Abiene looked at him over her cup. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah. I mean, folk look at you and think, ‘Here’s a nice woman. Sweet face and the hands of a healer. Dibella must love her.’ They look at me and think, ‘There goes a man on his way to a killing. Maybe he’ll stop and do some raping first.’ So I start off with a smile.”

He’s explaining the disadvantage of some people assuming the worst of him. They would have those thoughts and go to the other side of the street when they see him. When Jerric talks about some people thinking his scars must mean he is a monster, he is unhappy about it, not bragging. Other people (like Abiene) know that the scars only mean that something hurt him, and he survived it.

There would be some women who are now drawn to Darnand as a result of his new reputation. Presumably these women would be straight, but that should in no way imply that all straight women would fall into this category. This is something Jerric would anticipate based on his own experience. He would also anticipate that Darnand would not see this as a positive development, as he does not. But they haven’t had a chance to get into that yet.

I have to say, my first thought about women who would want to sleep with men because they have murdered women is “They must be bat-poop crazy,” not “They must be straight.”

I’m glad you enjoyed Thaurron. He has been important for Abiene, but I haven’t had much chance to show it. She would not have thrived in Anvil without a mutually nurturing relationship like she had at home with Ilonea. As Darnand said, she thinks the whole world is her patient. Good catch on the pie.

Acadian: Thank you so much, Acadian! I wanted this episode to have the feeling of Abiene, and your words tell me that it did. I appreciate knowing that the friends have touched your heart, especially Thaurron. It will be hard to leave him in Anvil. No matter what they say about Bosmeri, I find they can be quite winsome.

Thomas Kaira: Thank you so much for your kind words about Abiene. She keeps giving herself a bigger role, and I’ve stopped arguing. I am so honored by her appearance in your story!

Where we are: A long Loredas ran into Sundas morning at the Mages Guild.


Chapter 10: Septims, Part 17

Jerric opened the front door of the Mages Guild and followed his nose into the dining hall. Sundas breakfast was worth getting up for. A Nord cook knew how to make the most of winter ingredients. He blessed Hjordhild’s heritage as he filled his plate. Potato cakes with sour cream and applesauce, ham chopped into cubes and fried with onions and potatoes, pumpkin muffins, cheesy eggs baked with sausage and sun-dried tomatoes, and a slice of cornbread with strawberry preserves to balance on top. He reached for the tall pitcher of kahve. One large pottery mug now waited behind the cluster of regular-sized ceramic ones. He smiled as he filled it. Hjordhild likes me, he decided.

Jerric turned to the Imperial next to him at the sideboard. The lad’s grey eyes were wide with the expression Jerric was still not comfortable seeing. He looked at the lad’s plate.

“Don’t be shy,” Jerric told him. “At your age, even Imperials have a hollow leg.” He poured another mug while the lad heaped more eggs on his plate. “Here you go.”

The Imperial took the kahve, eyes even wider. “Thank you, sir,” he gulped. He quickly moved to sit at the long table with the other young associates and students. Just this summer I was sitting there, Jerric thought.

He sipped his kahve as he made his way over to Carahil’s table. There was a space on the bench opposite Darnand and Thaurron, next to Gulitte. He folded himself into it, careful not to bruise Felen in his customary spot at the foot of the table. Nods and murmured greetings did not interrupt the conversation in progress. Darnand looked pale, preoccupied, and a little tense. He’s back to normal, Jerric thought. Though the shadows under his eyes were perhaps darker than usual.

“I heard the Anvil Guard finally put a stop to the gang of women who have been preying on the town’s men,” Felen was saying. Jerric decided Felen must have been up gossiping before dawn.

“What has occurred?” Carahil’s voice was as smooth as glass. Jerric glanced at her. Even at the breakfast table she looked ready for an audience with the Countess. I bet every part of her is polished, he thought. Then he had to hide his smile in his mug.

“They were killed by a powerful mage.” Felen’s words silenced the room. “Their bodies were dismembered. I suspect it was a summoning.”

Jerric saw Darnand staring down at his plate.

“Who?” gasped Gulitte. “Was it murder?”

No one loves a sordid tale more than a mage, thought Jerric. Here come the theatrics. “I’m sure he, or she, had a good reason,” he said.

He found that all eyes were on him, except Darnand’s. Gulitte’s voice swelled with anticipation. “Do you know who did it?”

Dammit, thought Jerric. “I’m just saying, maybe they were working with the Anvil Guard. Or something.” He tried to hide his discomfort by using his napkin, but he hadn’t picked one up. “I mean, they’re probably not a murderer, no matter what people are saying.” He stared at Gulitte, hoping to shut him up.

“Was it you?” Gulitte asked. The air in the room seemed to disappear as folk sucked in their breath.

“I wish. I can’t summon anything that could do that.” Jerric’s sustained glare was making his eyes burn.

Gulitte’s eyebrows had shot up his forehead. He opened his mouth to speak again.

“It was I,” Darnand said quietly. “Please pass the salt.”

Abiene walked over during the babble that followed. She placed her plate and mug on the table between Thaurron and Darnand. “Good morning,” she said in a clear voice that carried over the talk. She rested her hand on Darnand’s shoulder and lifted her skirt to step over the bench. Jerric looked, hoping to catch a glimpse of thigh. Then he quickly looked away, hoping he hadn’t been caught.

Thaurron’s eyebrow spoke for him. The Bosmer didn’t miss much.

Jerric cleared his throat, trying to think of something to change the subject. Abiene’s plate held only a pumpkin muffin, but he knew that was not a suitable topic of conversation. He watched her break off a piece and raise it to her mouth, lipping the crumbs from her fingertips.

“What brings you to us so early this morning, Jerric?” asked Thaurron. “Will you join us at the chapel?”

Thank you, little mer, thought Jerric. “Uh, no. The gods will find me if they want something.” Carahil gave him a sharp look for that piece of impiety. “I need to spend some time with my horse. And do some training. Then I have to pick up some things in Westgate.”

Abiene’s tone was casual. “Training at the Fighters Guild?”

“No, here. Do you have some time for me?”

She sipped her kahve and appeared to be thinking. “I will be busy at the healing hall after chapel, and then I have some errands that will take me to Westgate. Shall I find you there this afternoon?” Her eyes smiled at him over the rim of her mug.

Jerric felt heat rising in his face. He became acutely aware that Gulitte was still looking at him. “Uh, yeah. That would be great. It’s, uh, going to be a nice day.” He took a gulp of kahve. “For being outside.”

“I’ll look for you at five of the afternoon watch, under the evergreen oak in Westgate. Will that give you enough time?”

“Yeah. That sounds like a great plan, Abiene. Thank you.” He guessed that if she meant something else entirely, she would have the sense to tell him in private.

“What happened?” Gulitte asked Darnand eagerly. Darnand’s knuckles were still white on his kahve mug. Jerric considered kicking Gulitte, but he couldn’t get an angle.

“They died. This subject is closed.” Darnand looked over at Jerric. “I am at your disposal, if you wish to conclude our business today.”

Jerric nodded. “After chapel?”

“Right away, if you like. My presence today would not please Dibella.”

After breakfast Jerric followed Darnand out the front door. Abiene caught his hand in the doorway, whispering that she would be at his hut by three bells. He gave her fingers a quick squeeze of acknowledgement as he left.

Darnand was quiet on their walk to the castle. He had been a shield for Jerric on the day he returned to Anvil, and Jerric wished he had been able to think more quickly at the breakfast table. Then he realized that Darnand had handled the situation on his own. He tried to find the words that would express his regret without sounding as if he doubted Darnand’s competence. He also wanted to give him an opportunity to talk without needling him with questions. Arvena’s lessons hadn’t taken him this far. He decided to speak from his heart.

“About last night. I put you in a bad situation without a backup plan. You did well, but I failed.”

Darnand kept his face forward and continued walking. “When we speak of high-risk work, we are accepting the potential for such occurrences. Someone had to be first. I would not have chosen to kill those women, but I did not choose to die instead.” His voice had the resolute tone of a practiced speech. Then Darnand looked over at Jerric. His eyes betrayed his vulnerability. “I was surprised at how quickly their malice fled. One moment they would have murdered me, and the next I had blood on my hands.”

Jerric reached out and steered him around a lamp post. “Yeah.”

They walked in silence for a few moments before Darnand spoke again. “Perhaps in our future endeavors, I might take a more active role in determining our course of action.”

“Yeah,” Jerric agreed fervently. “About that. There’s a Nord up in Whitmond, name of Maeva. The Buxom. She needs help, something about her husband ran off on her. Maybe you could come with me when I talk to her.”

“I think that would be well advised.”

Gogan and Maelona had their report ready for Darnand’s and Jerric’s signatures. The Guardsmen emphasized the need to keep their identities secret. Jerric supposed it was too late to keep Darnand’s name out of it. The chapel was no doubt buzzing with mages confiding their latest story to just one friend. The news would surely reach Valenwood by lunchtime.

He watched Darnand exchange his signature for a pouch of gold in the Steward’s office. Then he handed some of it back to be kept in his account. The county taxed such savings, but it was far less than the thieves’ tax. Jerric wondered if the gold in the Kvatch vaults had been recovered. Surely the records would have burned.

Walking back across the castle bridge, Darnand handed the rest of the gold to Jerric. “Your half,” he said.

“I didn’t do anything,” Jerric objected.

“You got us the job, and you provided support. I refuse to quibble over such matters. In the course of our partnership I expect that our roles will vary. Over time, there will be a balance. Do you agree?”

“Yeah.” Jerric weighed the pouch in his hand, smiling. He had enough to make several merchants very happy.

Jerric left Darnand at the guild hall and walked out the Main Gate. He found Flash in the large pasture behind Horse Whisperer Stables, grazing with a group of horses. He leaned on the fence and watched for a few moments. The red-headed stable hand joined him at the rail.

“You’re Flash’s friend,” the Nord told Jerric, smiling broadly. “I remember.”

“That’s right, Kado.” Jerric smiled back at him. “How’s he doing?”

“Good, good.” Kado nodded firmly to emphasize his words. “He’s doing good.”

“Do you think he’ll come over when I whistle?”

Kado’s face lit up with anticipation. “You taking him out today?”

“Yeah. Will you help me get him ready?”

“I’ll help you! You watch, I’ll do everything right!” Kado’s grin was infectious. It’s good to see a man who loves his work, thought Jerric.

Jerric’s whistle brought Flash over to them, though Jerric suspected the carrots in his hand had something to do with it. The three of them walked toward the stable, crunching their carrots.

“I have some business with Clesa first,” Jerric said. “I’ll meet you.”

“Mother is in the house,” Kado told him. Jerric tried to hide his surprise.

He exchanged glares with Ernest on his way into the stable house. Jerric had nothing to say to Clesa’s husband. After he handed over some coins, Jerric eyed Clesa as she made a record of the payment. He saw no resemblance between this beautiful Redguard and the grown but child-like Nord outside.

“Your account is paid through next week,” Clesa said. She handed him his receipt.

“Thank you. I’m taking Flash out for a few hours, Kado’s with him. He’s your son?”

Clesa returned his look, unflinching. “A fever left him simple when he was just a lad. Ernest and I took him in, his mother died from the same illness. He’s good with the horses. Do you have concerns?”

“No, I just wondered. If you trust him, so do I.”

Clesa’s face softened. “I don’t often hear that.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say it of your husband.”

Clesa snorted. “That I do tend to hear.”

The hours passed quickly until it was time to meet Abiene at his hut. Jerric built as lively a fire as he could risk in his fireplace. Leyawiin was about as far from the Western Reach as he could imagine. Abiene had grown up in an Argonian climate. She did not relish the cold.

When Jerric heard her light step on his wooden porch, he couldn’t help grinning. Or his other reaction. Keep your trousers on, he told himself. At least until you learn the spell.

[mALX]

My interest has been perked by the focus on Clesa's son Kado. I've always liked Jerric's easy way with children, and to see it extends to the less fortunate as well reveals a lot about his character. Children, dogs and cats - they can usually determine someone's true nature better than adults, lol. Another wonderful addition to an AWESOME character driven story!!! Your ability to develop deep characters is amazing, a huge gift !!! Great Write !!!

[haute ecole rider]

I loved the uncomfortable scene at the breakfast table, between trying to keep what happened the night before secret (and protect Darnand, which turns out to be a misplaced intention) and ogling Abiene without being obvious. Darnand definitely can handle the consequences, as dreadful as they may be, because he's got a pair, all right.

I also enjoyed sharp-eyed Thaurron and suspicious Gilette. And the gossipy Felen! Not like my Felen at all! But I still enjoyed them anyway.

And the scene at the horse stables was wonderful. I'd trust a simple man with my horse before I'd trust a former knacker! Poor Clesa! At least Cato Kado is good for something!

[Acadian]

Thanks for a great southern breakfast!

Your delicate skill with your characters continues be a joy to read.

“What has occurred?” Carahil’s voice was as smooth as glass. Jerric glanced at her. Even at the breakfast table she looked ready for an audience with the Countess. I bet every part of her is polished, he thought. Then he had to hide his smile in his mug. '
Wow! Is this ever Carahil! Oh, and a lovely touch of humor about her polished bits!

'Thaurron’s eyebrow spoke for him. The Bosmer didn’t miss much. '
This would have been so easy to overstate. Perfect example of the delicate touch I mentioned you have. And another reason to like the endearing mer.

'Jerric reached out and steered him around a lamp post.'
The imagery of this brought a big chuckle!

'The chapel was no doubt buzzing with mages confiding their latest story to just one friend. The news would surely reach Valenwood by lunchtime. '
Yup. Just one friend. . . .

Gosh, Jerric, Darnanad, Thaurron, Abiene, Carahil all shine here!

The dialogue you gave Kado was perfect. I enjoyed his enthusiasm and how very Jerric to return simple kindness in kind, and even extend it to Clessa. The scene says much about Jerric - all of it good! Yum, carrots!

This post has been edited by Acadian: May 30 2011, 01:02 AM

[D.Foxy]

Girl, if ever Hemingway met Kathleen Woddiwiss, you would be the product - a writing style that has both the masculine hard hitting style with the delicacy and insightfulness of the feminine touch.

[Grits]

mALX: Thank you so much, mALX! You picked up exactly what I was hoping to show with Kado. And now of course I have a whole bunch of Kado story buzzing in my head, argh! Jerric may never get out of Anvil.

haute ecole rider: I’m glad you enjoyed the breakfast scene. Jerric was definitely in over his head, and it was nice to let Darnand take care of business. I had to give Clesa some help, no way was I going to let Ernest get his hands on Flash! Thank you for your approval of Kado.

Acadian: The lamp post is one of my favorite Jerric and Darnand moments, I’m so glad you pointed it out! Thank you for your remarks about Kado, he had a lot to say in a few words.

D. Foxy: I am astonished and humbled. And also Thank you so much, Foxy!

Where we are: Abiene has arrived at the beach hut to teach Jerric some illusion magic.



Chapter 10: Septims, Part 18

Abiene swept into the hut, pink-cheeked and breathless from the wind. Her cold nose pressed into Jerric’s open collar made him laugh. He lifted her over to stand in front of the fire.

“Business first,” she said resolutely, even though she already had her arms around him.

He decided that meant he should quit grinding against her. He stepped back and crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m ready when you are.”

Abiene removed her cloak and hung it on the wooden peg by the door. “At the guild hall I would give you a potion first, so that you could feel the spell’s effects before you try to cast it. I’m sorry, I forgot to bring one. Do you know how to make a potion that will light the area around you? I don’t remember. I’m afraid I haven’t spent much time with illusion magic since University.”

“Sure. White seed pods and alkanet flowers. I’ve never used one, but I’ve made plenty. Let me check my bag.” Jerric dumped his gathering sack out onto his small table. “Look, here’s… Well, there’s a lot here. No alkanet. I know I found some dried ones, must have given them to Felen.”

Abiene looked away from the jumbled mess, smoothing her skirt. “I’ll cast the spell then, and you try to read it. Like an enchantment. If Darnand is right, you might be able to do it. Are you ready? Here it goes.”

Abiene raised her hand and whispered a word. Green light spilled out of her open palm and seeped into the space around them. Jerric stretched out his magical sense, reading the spell.

It was in his mind. The sense of wrong forced the breath out of him, and he reached out reflexively to shove Abiene. He stopped himself in time, barely. The green light winked away.

“What is it?” she gasped, taking a step back.

“I’m sorry! It’s just… The light was in my head. It’s a trick! There is no light.” He ran a nervous hand through his hair.

Abiene’s eyes were still wide and startled. “You’ve seen a light spell before, haven’t you? You must have!”

“Yeah, but I didn’t know what it was doing. Are other folk all right with this?”

“Of course.” Abiene stepped toward him again. He let her take his hands. “When I’ve healed you, I’ve sent my magicka throughout all of you. It didn’t seem to upset you at all.”

“You weren’t tricking me. That light spell changed my thoughts. It made me see what isn’t there! How can you do that to someone?”

“Jerric, I…” Abiene looked embarrassed and confused. “Illusion magic is… No one means you harm with a light spell.”

Jerric squeezed her hands, still disturbed by his reaction. “I know you don’t mean me any harm. You can cast light around me any time, I trust you. I just won’t pay attention to it, or something.” He drew her closer and ran his palms up to her shoulders, trying to shake off his uneasy feeling. Somehow her hands got under his shirt.

“We should try again,” she said with determination. “You learned your first alteration spell so quickly. I know I can teach you an illusion spell.”

“All right.” He stepped back. “How about one that only I can see by. ‘Eyes at Night,’ or something.”

“That’s an apprentice spell. Light is the one everyone starts with.” She looked thoughtful for a moment. “A weak charm spell isn’t too difficult. I’ll do it first, like before. Are you ready?”

Jerric nodded, and she cast the spell.

It could have been hours later, or only one. Jerric’s head pounded as if he had tried to drown himself in flin. His neck burned with tension, and his legs needed to run. Abiene looked ready to weep. He still had not learned any illusion magic.

“Once again,” Abiene said hopelessly.

“Never mind, I’ll keep using torches.” Jerric reached over and opened the door for some air, then closed it when he saw her shiver. “It’s getting late. You should stay, and I’ll cook us some dinner. I’ll go kill something. There’s always a crab nearby.” He rolled his shoulders, letting go of his tension.

Abiene took a deep breath and let it out. She looked at his hearth dubiously. “Can you even cook here? There’s no… thing you hang the pots upon.”

“It’s just like cooking on a campfire when you don’t have a crane. The hardest part is hauling the water from town. The well here is foul. Sometimes I just use seawater.”

“Eew! Fish — I’m not drinking seawater!”

“Not to drink.” Jerric laughed, his strain easing. “To boil things and wash with.”

“No, thank you! Seawater is dirty.”

“I’m surprised to hear you say that, considering where you’ll put your… That is to say, what you’re willing…” Abiene’s look did not encourage him to continue. “Never mind,” he concluded.

“That’s different.” She smiled up at him, sliding her hands back under his shirt. “I mean there’s the bedchamber, and then there’s what you’d put in the soup. I don’t mind seawater in the washbasin. I just don’t want to swallow it.”

Jerric decided to let that statement go unremarked upon. “I’ll try to remember to bring more water from town. I just keep forgetting the damn bucket.” He began to lose track of what they had been talking about. “Look, my head is killing me. Let’s open the wine.”

His clay mugs were less than elegant, but the vintage was good. He handed Abiene her cup and watched.

“Tamika’s 415!” She was clearly surprised. “This wine is excellent. You shouldn’t, Jerric. It must have cost you more than anything in this room.”

“Well you don’t like beer or ale, and I’m not going to give you cheap wine. Don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re too fine for this hut. I mean, whenever I picture you in my mind, you’re always in a nice place. Like your room at the guild.”

“You picture me? When?”

“Whenever you’re not here. Last night, for example.” Jerric grabbed his crotch and grinned at her.

Abiene threw her head back, laughing. “You are so rude!”

“Just how you like me. I love to hear you laugh like that, Abiene. Why aren’t you always this way?”

The smile left her face. “People are always measuring me, checking to see if I’m doing anything wrong. Not everyone, but sometimes it’s too much. When you look at me, I know you just see who I am. I don’t have to guard myself with you, Jerric.”

“You can be yourself with anyone. Who you are is good enough. The rest of them can go hump themselves if they don’t like it.”

“I know that’s how you feel. I suppose I just can’t let go of all the expectations. I’m afraid I’ll disappoint them.”

“Disappoint who?”

“I don’t even know any more.” Abiene looked away, chewing her lip.

Jerric took her cup and set it with his on the cluttered table. “Abiene, I don’t mean to upset you. But this is pretty important, I think. Is that why you don’t want people to know about us? Are you ashamed of me?”

“Jerric, don’t.” She wouldn’t meet his eyes.

“Because I’m a Nord? It’s all right to say, I know I’ll never be smart like Darnand. I’m not angry, Abiene. I just wonder, that’s all.” He tried to turn her face toward him, but she pulled away. “Is it the drinking? I haven’t been on a real bender since I got back.”

“Please stop, Jerric.” Her face crumpled in distress.

“Look, don’t cry. Dammit, I’m sorry.”

“There is nothing I would change about you. Nothing,” she choked.

“All right. Hush, Abiene.” He reached out to draw her to him. “I won’t ask again, promise. I’m not going to start saying no to you.”

“You should say no to me!” She hit him on the stomach. “You should say no, because I won’t, I won’t say it! And you’re going to go, and I won’t be here when you return! And what if you don’t? How will I know what’s happened to you, if you never return?” Her words ended in ragged sobs.

Jerric caught her hands, bewildered by her outburst. Everything she had said was something that they already knew. “We’re both here now,” he said softly, trying to soothe her. “This is borrowed time, we should just enjoy it.” He doubted that reasonable talk would help the situation. Instead he held her close until the storm passed.

Eventually Abiene sniffed deeply in the folds of his shirt. Her voice sounded thick with tears and a stuffy nose. “I don’t want them to know that I lost you,” she said in a muffled tone. “When everyone looks at me, it will remind them that you left. It’s too much to bear.”

Jerric didn’t have an answer for that, but he understood it. A sudden glance of pity could feel like a punch in the throat. He still hadn’t been able to face Rhano’s parents, knowing that he stood for everyone they had lost.

He decided there was nothing to be gained from that kind of talk. Maybe he could tease a smile out of her. “Look, you’re making me upset too,” he said, keeping his tone light. “Come on, let’s get our clothes off. We can go swimming, it’s only a little dark and cold. Unless you have a better idea.” He tried not to grin, but he couldn’t help it.

Abiene started laughing through her tears, her hands still twisted in his shirt and shaking. Jerric thought that was a good beginning.

Later he held her in his bed, watching the fire die down. Her skin warmed the length of his side, but he could feel the cold creeping through the wall. She was so still, he thought she had fallen asleep.

“What did you mean, you’re on borrowed time?” she asked him softly.

Jerric wound his fingers in her hair and tried to look at her face, but she kept it turned toward the fire. He spoke quietly too, as if a normal voice could cause the moment to break. “I don’t belong to myself any more. What I need to do, I won’t live through. I’ve seen it in my dreams. There’s no future with me, Abiene. We should go ahead and say goodbye.”

“It’s what they say about you, isn’t it. Lionheart. You’re going to save us from the daedra when they come.” He saw the firelight gleam on her silent tears.

“Not just me, and I have to try. That’s why I’m still around, my purpose. You saw how I was when I got here. You helped me pull myself together again. I’m so sorry that it hurt you.”

Abiene turned her face toward him now, letting him see the depth of her grief. “Don’t you want to live?”

He knew what she was asking. “I can’t hope for us and still do what I need to. I guess a better man could. I’d just keep wanting to take you away somewhere and keep you safe.” He brushed his thumb under her eye, gathering her tears. “There’s a lot for you to live for, Abiene. It’s going to get darker, but there’s still a way through it.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean don’t give up, no matter what. It’s not for me to explain.”

She was silent for several minutes. Jerric listened to the embers crackle and the surf outside washing up onto the shore.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t teach you the light spell,” she finally said.

“I couldn’t learn it. There’s a difference.”

“I wish there was more I could do for you.”

“If you think of something, I know you’ll do it.” I wonder when the message will come from Martin, he thought. Each time I hold her could be the last.

Abiene lifted her head to look at him again. “What do you see in your dreams?”

“Fire. Teeth and claws. A daedroth kills me, I think. It’s always the same.” Fresh tears slipped down her cheeks. He felt relieved that they had stopped pretending it would somehow be all right. Better to face this now together than later when she’s alone, he decided. “Don’t worry, I’ll go out fighting.”

“You must go to Leyawiin, Jerric.” Her voice held a desperate note. “You’ll need to for your recommendations anyway. Dagail is the Chapter Head there, she’s a powerful mystic. Dreams can tell you all kinds of things, it might not be what it seems.” She pushed herself up, taking his face in her hands. A burst of pain sent his breath out in a grunt.

“Abiene,” he gasped. “Your knee —”

“I’m sorry!” Her frantic scramble cost him more agony. By the end of it he lay curled around himself, groaning. She sprawled on the floor, rubbing her hip. “I’m so sorry! Let me heal you! Oh, this floor is so sandy…” Her voice trailed into giggles, unsuccessfully smothered.

The pain faded into glittering light, and he rolled onto his back. He found Abiene’s hand still on his side. She held her other hand across her mouth, tears and laughter spilling over it.

Jerric sighed and looked up at the hut’s exposed rafters. “I know this is only temporary. But we could stand a bigger bed.”

This post has been edited by Grits: Jun 1 2011, 03:26 PM

[haute ecole rider]

A bigger bed never hurt anyone. I have a queen size bed, and yet somehow my three-legged cat manages to push me into one little corner of it. How a little thing like him can hog the whole thing is beyond me.

I laughed at the little interaction at the end when Abiene accidentally - uh, kneed Jerric. A little bit of comic relief to balance all the angst that went before.

Poor Jerric - he doesn't understand where the storm is coming from. Typical man - thinks just because they talked about it rationally means that she's fine with their relationship being temporary. Rationally speaking, yes, she's fine with it. But emotionally speaking - uh, no. And it's the emotional part that Jerric is missing out on.

Illusion magic can be quite hard - after all, it's altering another being's state of mind, much as restoration is altering another being's state of - well, being. I always thought it odd that the game treats illusion as being easy to master, while restoration is appropriately difficult. Weird leveling system!

I'm liking Abiene more and more. The reason? Because she loves Jerric just the way he is, and doesn't try to change him. Apparently unlike most women I know, she recognizes that not only is it a futile waste of time, but also if she were to be successful in changing him, she would lose the thing about him that she loves so much in the first place.

[D.Foxy]

“No, thank you! Seawater is dirty.”

“I’m surprised to hear you say that, considering where you’ll put your… That is to say, what you’re willing…” Abiene’s look did not encourage him to continue. “Never mind,” he concluded.

“That’s different.” She smiled up at him, sliding her hands back under his shirt. “I mean there’s the bedchamber, and then there’s what you’d put in the soup. I don’t mind seawater in the washbasin. I just don’t want to swallow it.”

Jerric decided to let that statement go unremarked upon. “I’ll try to remember to bring more water from town. I just keep forgetting the damn bucket.” He began to lose track of what they had been talking about. “Look, my head is killing me. Let’s open the wine.”


This is confusing...

I mean, where is she going to put what? The only thing I can think of connected to seawater is seamen - and it's not possible to swallow seamen, is it?

Huh?

Why is everybody coughing and choking?

Bah! This internet thing is too newfangled for old men like me. And that's why I hate typing on these computas. Why in the old days I would write everything down with pen on paper - and since my pen is quite thick and long, I could write for a long time - and of course the sensation of my pen in my gave me much more pleasure than typing...




Let that be a lesson to you Grits - awaken not the Daedra Dhirtee Innu Endo!!!!!!!

[haute ecole rider]

Bah! This internet thing is too newfangled for old men like me. And that's why I hate typing on these computas. Why in the old days I would write everything down with pen on paper - and since my pen is quite thick and long, I could write for a long time - and of course the sensation of my pen in my gave me much more pleasure than typing...

. . . my pen in my whut?

[mALX]

A burst of pain sent his breath out in a grunt. “Abiene,” he gasped. “Your knee —”

SPEW !!! ROFL !!! Abiene really knows how to kill a mood, ROFL !!! The evening would have been spectacular if she had just allowed Jerric to lead when he was humping her leg. Between her casting (what I am assuming was "Frenzy" on Jerric), crying, then kneeing him in the groin - GAAAAAH !!! She was all out of whack this night !!!

An Awesome write, you really delve into the frailty of Abiene and the inner strength of Jerric in this - huge !!!

[Acadian]

Once again, you display a style that can best be described as silky. I love your ability to show your characters interacting so smoothly and naturally.

“You should say no to me!” She hit him on the stomach. “You should say no, because I won’t, I won’t say it! And you’re going to go, and I won’t be here when you return! And what if you don’t? How will I know what’s happened to you, if you never return?” Her words ended in ragged sobs.'
Perfectly done!

This episode was an absolutely magical blend of serious and sobering thoughts with light humor.

Jerric's nightmares about fire, teeth and claws sent a familiar shiver.

[Ceidwad]

I have to say, I am not 100% up to speed on Jerric's story, but I have been enjoying it so much! I think my favourite bit so far was the prostitution episode in Skingrad - especially when Jerric asks the first guard 'Hello sir, are you a chapel-goer?' before turning to his more worldly comrade and simply stating 'A brothel.' Brilliant! Jerric is very easy to sympathise with - no saint, but very human. You have a great gift for humour, and I look forward to reading more of your story. Well done!