All posts by Epicene Blue

Former journalist & editor, now a disabled gamer and occasional - when possible - gaming fanfic writer.

THE HOUSE OF DUBOIS

(ESO FanFic: House of Dubois – Intro)

House Motto: Strength & Prosperity
House Colors: Black, Blue & Silver

Although their bloodline stretches back to the first emergence of the Bretons, House Dubois was only established as its own distinct noble family name within the last few centuries. Rumor has it a poor but brave Dubois warrior did a very particular favor for a desperate queen, & was raised to the rank of Earl in reward. The family is rather secretive about exactly what kind of assistance their ancestor bestowed on their royal benefactor to receive such a boon, which has led to much wild speculation & theories, none of which have ever been confirmed. However, it is known that it very oddly had something to do with a crab apple tree, and one is planted at every property the family owns.

House Dubois started off humbly, but is now known as one of the most prosperous of the Breton noble houses in High Rock. The family’s wealth is largely based on shrewd business dealings and a thriving trading business that imports & exports goods all over Tamriel. They own an ample estate in Daggerfall, as well as a handful of other properties scattered throughout many territories, including personal homes, farms, rental properties, and trading outposts. The headquarters of the Dubois Trading Syndicate is currently located in the port city of Stros M’Kai, where they also house a small fleet of trader ships.

The family has spent much of their time over the past twenty years traveling all over Tamriel & living in various territories as they expanded their trading routes. Thus, they have been quite removed from the politics & personal lives of the Breton nobles in High Rock. However, they have now decided to settle down on a more permanent basis, especially as Earl Lazare finds it increasingly painful & difficult to travel.

Due to their trade routes across Tamriel, and their many connections in almost every territory, House Dubois often finds itself transporting more than just simple goods for sale. They have also been known — in certain quiet circles — to provide transport for persons and objects of great delicacy or value, as well as provide conduits for the careful transfer of dangerous information.

In re-establishing their home base in High Rock after several decades traveling & living in various places, Lazare & Elona hope putting down more stable roots may encourage their children to find their own mates & perhaps even provide them with some much desired grandchildren. While their children have recently established their own households outside of High Rock, they consider their parent’s estate there to be their home base and all visit extremely frequently.

The current living members of House Dubois have blood ties to several other Breton noble houses in High Rock, including House Tamrith & House Dorell, among others.

Partial List of Family Properties:
Dubois Estate – Daggerfall Overlook, Daggerfall
Hawke Manor – Strident Springs Estate, Reaper’s March
Training Outpost – Dawnshadow, Reaper’s March
Dubois Trading Syndicate – Hunding’s Palatial Hall, Stros M’Kai
Dubois House Farm – Moonmirth House & Farm, Khenarthi’s Roost
Permanent Rooms – Sister of the Sands, Sentinel, The Rosy Lion, Daggerfall

House Members

Earl Lazare Dubois (Patriarch)
Age: 46 – Race: Breton – Class: Former Templar
Gender: Male – Sexuality: Heterosexual
Primary Residence: Dubois Estate, Daggerfall, High Rock

Background: Earl Lazare was the eldest child and heir of his parents, who died in a carriage accident when he was 37. His father was the only Dubois child of his generation. His mother was a minor nobile from House Dorell. His only surviving close relatives, besides his children, are his brother Thomase and his two offspring. He was married at the age of 22 to Lady Elona Tamrith when she was 18. Before becoming the patriarch of the family, Lazare was a Templar Blademaster of Zenithar, the patron Divine of House Dubois. He retired from his duties as a templar at 35 after sustaining severe wounds that even now cause him great pain & difficulty in mobility.

Description: Lazare is classically handsome in that noble warrior kind of way, with a strong jawline, near black hair, and piercing gray eyes. However, he is also extensively scarred, although his face is mostly spared, due to his battle history & the extreme injuries he suffered that forced him to retire from being an active Templar of Zenithar.

Personality: Lazare keeps a serious facade, and fights depression & anxiety stemming from his chronic pain & disability. However, underneath he has a wicked sense of humor & a kind, generous heart. He has not picked up a weapon since he was forced to retire as a templar, but has written numerous books & training manuals on the art of battle, as well as essays and guides on the histories and cultures of various locations the family has lived. He rules over his household and his dependents with intelligence, grace, kindness, and a fierce protective nature.

Countess Elona Dubois née Tamrith (Matriarch/Spymaster)
Age: 42 – Race: Breton – Class: Sorcerer
Gender: Female – Sexuality: Bisexual but monogamous to her husband Primary Residence: Dubois Estate, Daggerfall, High Rock

Background: Countess Elona was a minor nobel of House Tamrith in Rivenspire before her marriage, and a cousin of Lady Aurine Tamrith. Before her marriage, Elona made a name for herself as a championship archer & huntress. She also received extensive training in the art of intrigue as a member of her family’s spy network.

Now the head of House Dubois’ spy network, Elona is also a secret member of the Thieves Guild, & a highly placed associate with the Ring of Daggers — which is known only to her husband & two daughters. She can’t, unfortunately, trust her son’s glib tongue with such dangerous information. Elona’s magical gifts lie mostly in the arts of concealment & illusion, although she can summon powerful storm magics if she is put under severe duress – but they are too strong for her and endanger her life.

Her marriage to Earl Lazare Dubois was arranged to strengthen the alliances & finances of House Tamrith & House Dubois. Although it was a political match, Elona & Lazare fell madly in love on their wedding night & maintain a passionate & unbreakable relationship.

Description: Elona is unquestioningly beautiful, although her deep, hazel brown eyes can sometimes seem sad. Her rich, silky brown hair falls just past her shoulders when loose, although she generally keeps it up out of her way. Her pale, near flawless skin does not reflect at all how much time she spends outside with her hawks & horses, riding & hunting.

Personality: Elona portrays herself as a somewhat fragile beauty to those outside of her immediate family. However, in truth she is deceptively strong, shrewd & highly intelligent, with a deep love of strategy, business management, falconry, and weapons work. She deeply loves all of her children, and would defend them all to her last breath – even her adopted Bosmer daughter, Rill. Although she tends to prefer to observe rather than participate in social situations, she is a gracious hostess and adept at putting people at ease with her gentle words and subtle cleverness. Her greatest sadness in life is knowing her husband suffers daily, and there is nothing she has been able to do to change that.

Viscount Tristane Dubois (Heir to House Dubois)
Age: 24 – Race: Breton – Class: Dragonknight
Gender: Male – Sexuality: Heterosexual
Primary Residence: Hawke Manor, Reaper’s March

Background: So far, Tristane has led a rather charmed life. As the heir apparent of a prosperous & wealthy house, Tristane wants for nothing. Even so, he isn’t lazy, and doesn’t just rely on the family name to get by. He was gifted with a strong dose of war magic, and spent much of his young life training in the ancient Akaviri martial arts tradition of battle-spirit. He never ceases learning as much as he can, and has an especially close relationship with his father due to the bond of their fighting hearts.

Despite being charmingly dashing, and irresistibly handsome, Tristane is not a ladies man. Although he has had his dalliances, he hopes someday to find a love like his parents have. They’ve vowed to let him marry for love, despite being the House heir, but he is feeling the increasing pressure to wed soon. Although he is birth twins with his sibling Lirielle, who is only a few minutes younger than he, Tristane is actually much closer with his adopted Bosmer sister, Amarie.

Description: Tristane is roguishly handsome, with dark brown hair just brushing his shoulders, but usually tied back out of his face. His gray-green eyes always hold the hint of a smile in them, even when he’s in the midst of a fight. His face is softer than his father’s, taking more after his mother in some ways, but he has his father’s generous, sensual mouth.

Personality: Although Tristane is serious about battle, he is anything but in regard to just about everything else. He inherited his father’s sense of humor, and his mother’s quick wit. Because of his frequent late night outings & love of hosting days long parties, Tristane recently purchased his own estate to spare his parents from his constant disturbances.

Laird Lirielle Dubois (Head of Dubois Trading Syndicate/Apprentice Spymaster)
Age: 24 – Race: Breton – Class: Nightblade
Gender: Non-Binary – Sexuality: Asexual
Primary Residence: Dubois Trading Syndicate Headquarters, Port Hunding, Stros M’Kai

Background: A prodigy in math & logistics, Lir took over as the head of the Dubois Trading Syndicate when she was only 25. For them, it is all about the challenge of the trading game, & the care of the people under their domain. Lir has little interest in the trappings of wealth & nobility, even though she is the guardian of both for House Dubois. They prefer not to be called Lord or Lady. Instead, they have taken on the more obscure title of Laird. They currently reside in a private apartment at the Dubois Trading Syndicate Headquarters in Port Hunding, Stros M’Kai, but visits and stays with their parents in Daggerfall quite frequently.

Lir is apprentice to their mother as the Dubois family Spymaster, as well as the House’s head of trade. The two are intricately intertwined as Lir has their ‘Ears’ integrated into the merchant business all over the continent. While passing along trade goods, the Ears also pass along information, and special items needing discrete transport. Lir’s magic is much like their mother’s gifts, which makes them far more suited for the role than either of their siblings. While Lady Elona relies more on her magic, however, Lir is more skilled in physical stealth, deception, manipulation, and a mastery of daggers and bow.

Description: Lirielle, or Lir as they prefer to be called, is delicate in feature, pale skinned, & lithe like their mother, but tall with strong hands like their father. They keep their near black hair long, but usually tightly braided up or otherwise bound out of the way. Their deep brown eyes reveal little, and Lir’s poker face is legendary. They rarely reveal any emotion on their face, except with close family, where they are much more willing to let their inner selves show. Lir is adept at passing for either a rather androgynous but attractive male or female with ease when the situation demands.

Personality: Quiet and unassuming, Lir is able to fade into the background any time they wish, but can also command the attention of a room full of soldiers if they choose. In general, however, they prefer to remain in the background and let others take the lead while holding the reins in secret. Although they have received marriage offers from men & women of nobility, and several wealthy merchants as well, Lir has no interest in wedding anyone or having children. While they are asexual, they are not averse to romantic or intimate relationships, as long as they understand their boundaries, and had a previous non-sexual, loving relationship with a fellow asexual male Breton merchant.

Lady Amarie Rillisandra “Rill” Dubois – Adopted (Assassin)
Age: 21 – Race: Bosmer – Class: Warden
Gender: Female – Sexuality: Pansexual
Primary Residence: Hawke Manor, Reaper’s March

Background: Amarie, or “Rill” to her family & friends, is a Bosmer foundling officially adopted into House Dubois. She was discovered as an infant, left in a tree, by Countess Elona while the lady was on a hunting trip in the forests of Reaper’s March. Despite an exhaustive search, Elona was never able to find the baby’s family, and so decided to adopt the bright, bubbly infant as her own. She had been unable to have more children after the difficult birth of her twins, so the Bosmer babe seemed like a gift from the Divines.

Rill was given both a Breton & a Bosmer name to honor her heritage, and educated in both Breton & Bosmer culture, magic & weaponry. Rill was gifted with a strong, illusion-based magic and animal magic, which she finds very useful in scouting new trade routes & routing out bandits who dare to attack Dubois caravans or ships. While most Bosmer are far more comfortable in the forest than the city, Rill is equally at home in both the crowds of urban areas and the solitary peace of the deep woods.

Being a Bosmer in a noble Breton house has not always been easy. Rill has undergone her fair share of bullying & even cruelty. However, her family has always had her back, and so she has developed a strong and confident persona despite her ill treatment at the hands of others. As a way to ingratiate herself to others, Rill became quite skilled at playing a variety of instruments and has a lovely singing voice. She also uses these skills to masquerade as a wandering minstrel on occasion in order to collect information & observe persons of interest. Well, more than observe sometimes. Rill also serves as the family’s assassin – every noble house has one – and is a member of the Dark Brotherhood as well, although this is not something she speaks of with family or friends.

Description: Amarie, or Rill as she prefers to be called, is pretty for a Bosmer, although no one would call her striking. When dressed up in formal attire for family or social functions, she could almost be considered lovely, except for how many grimaces that pass across her face at being forced into uncomfortable dresses & pinching shoes. Rill’s most distinctive feature is her vibrant red-orange hair, which she tends to play with in a mix of Bosmer & Breton styles. Her light blue eyes are mischievous, and stand out against her slightly freckled skin. Rill’s parentage is unknown, but it is notable that she looks, especially in her eyes and less angular features, like she has a good bit of human blood mixed strongly in with the wood elf somewhere in her ancestry.

Personality: Rill has a sharp mind & a sharp tongue, but a soft heart for her family, friends, and those in need. Although it pains her not to know her origins, she feels much loved and beloved by her adopted family, especially her older brother Tristane. Although she is considered by most to be a wild child with little thought about the deeper world around her, this is a carefully cultivated act to disguise her true intelligence & constant observation of everyone and everything around her. Due to being raised by a Breton family, Rill does not find follow the Green Pact and honestly finds the whole idea rather tiresome — although she never expresses this out loud to anyone outside the family.

Niara Indoril (House Protector)
Age: 79 – Race: Dunmer – Class: Templar of Mara
Gender: Female – Sexuality: Lesbian
Primary Residence: Dubois Estate, Daggerfall, High Rock

Background: Most would find a Dunmer’s total devotion to a noble Breton house extremely strange, if not perhaps a little mad. Warrior-Mage Niara Indoril, however, owes no one an explanation for her loyalty. The only person she owes is Earl Lazare’s late father, who saved her life after nearly killing her when she attempted to assassinate him for a business rival.

Even though she had tried to murder him, he forgave her, healed her wounds, and nursed her back to heath. He also paid an exorbitant amount of gold both to his homicidal business rival, and her employers at the Dark Brotherhood, to free her from her contract. He never explained why, and he gave her a home & a purpose other than the path of blood she had been pursuing.

Before her encounter with the former patriarch of House Dubois, Niara had been raised to be an assassin and dealer of death by her daedra worshiping parents. They had never viewed her as a child, only as a weapon to be abused and used as they saw fit. After her metaphorical rebirth, Nirai threw Dunmer traditions aside and dedicated herself as a Templar of Mara, the Divine goddess of compassion, security, peace, home, & family. While she helped to train Rill in the arts of assassination, she herself is now dedicated solely to the personal guard and protection of the Dubois family members.

Description: Niara might be considered beautiful, for a Dunmer, if she didn’t look so fiercely intimidating. Her light gray skin is smooth & glows from within, with only a few scars from the very rare times an enemy or a target has gotten through her defenses. None of them lived to get through them twice. Her glowing orange-tinged amber eyes can shift from enticing to frightening depending on her mood. She is tall but graced with eye-catching curves, not that many have ever gotten to appreciate them.

Personality: Niara is a hypnotic presence, but in the same way a cold & deadly snake can be hypnotic and entice you to your death. Her interior, however, no longer matches her exterior. Although she is death incarnate if she is protecting her chosen family, Niara has evolved into a very kind and gentle soul. She is also humble, shy, and so very different in attitude & personality than the usual Dunmer that she has very little association with her own race anymore. In all honesty, she’d rather be wielding a garden trowel than a sword most days – although she could still easily kill you with the trowel.

Dubois Relatives:

Lord Thomase Dubois (NPC) – Brother to Earl Lazare Dubois

Background: As the younger brother of House Dubois, Thomase inherited no land or title when his parents passed. However, he was given the position of lord, liaison & courtier for the House by his brother. This is a role that suits him entirely, as it requires very little physical work, and he receives a generous salary to wine & dine nobles & merchants for the benefit of the House. He is currently stationed at Evermore Castle in the court of Queen Arzhela. Despite being repeatedly rejected, Thomase has an obsession with Lady Astrid Silane (NPC), and is determined to somehow woo her into marriage.

Description: Thomase keeps his brown hair cropped short in a vain effort to hide he is balding. His languid brown eyes are the color of dull leather, and his skin is marked with the leftover dents of a pox from childhood. He isn’t entirely unattractive, as most Dubois men have decent looks, and he is fastidious about his appearance, but he certainly isn’t anyone the ladies are clamoring after. His late wife certainly didn’t, although she did provide him with two children — from the very few times she ever allowed him into her bed, entirely for the purpose of getting with child.

Personality: Although Thomase can schmooze with the best of the courtiers, he finds them tiresome & often just entirely disgusting. He’s a bit of a lush, and spends too much time in brothels, but these bad habits are overlooked due to his effectiveness in negotiating alliances & trade deals.

Lieutenant Dubois (NPC) – Son of Lord Thomase Dubois
Jenna Dubois (NPC) – Estranged daughter of Lord Thomase Dubois
Lady Morrigan Dubois (Crisendorf01) – Distant Cousin
Lord Erathin Dubois (Crisendorf01) – Distant Cousin (family does not associate with him)

RUSIA CASSIANA

(ESO FanFic: Templar of Shezarr – Intro)

Race: Imperial
Gender: Female
Orientation: Pansexual
Age: Early 20’s
Occupation: Mercenary, The Gray Legion & Mistveil Mercenaries
Specialties: Sword & Shield, Fire & Earth Magic
Alignment: Neutral Good

Rusia was born into minor nobility but orphaned at twelve after her parents were apparently murdered. Rusia finished growing up in a mercenary funded orphanage in Stormhaven. She joined the Band of the Hawke mercenary company at 17, and rode with them for four years until the company was destroyed.Rusia was born to an noble family in Cyrodiil and lived much of her young life in the soft, easy life of wealth and prosperity. Her father, being of an open-minded nature, encouraged her natural gifts for sword play. Her mother did not care for the ways of steel, but loved her young daughter for her strength as well as her beauty. Rusia also inherited a touch of magic from both parents, and her mother helped to teach her how to nourish and control it.

That was before the destruction and terror of Molag Bal. Before The Alliance War turned to fury and flames. In the midst of the chaos and horror, Rusia’s parents became victims of the Daedric prince and his minions. Her father murdered, her mother taken as a slave and later killed, she was left alone and abandoned, with no one to turn to and no hope for the future. Distant and greedy relatives took over her parents’ lands and manor, throwing her out with nothing, leaving her starving and begging in the streets for enough just to survive.

Rusia was near death from a terrible beating by a gang of roughs when she was found by a member of the secret cult of Shezarr. After healing Rusia, the woman — who never shared her name — left the young girl on the steps of the orphanage at Whitehawke in Stormhaven with a note containing only one mysterious sentence: “Blessed by the 10th Divine.” Taken in by the Band of the Hawke, Rusia spent the last few years of her damaged childhood growing up in an orphanage funded by the mercenary company, learning the arts of war to someday avenge her father and rescue her mother, until the news reached her eventually that her mother too was dead.

At 17, Rusia officially joined the Band of the Hawke mercenary company, and rode with them for four years until the company was destroyed by the forces of Molag Bal, once again leaving her ‘orphaned’ and alone.

Rusia turned to work as a freelance mercenary after failing to find any other survivors, and spiraled downward into despair and self-loathing. An assassination attempt by a Daedra claiming to be sent by her supposedly dead mother nearly claimed her life. Rusia was rescued from death by Sindri Khan of The Gray Legion. Given a new lease on life, Rusia gladly offered Sindri her allegiance in helping to save and care for the refugees of war. Within the same week, she also joined the Mistveil Company of mercenaries under the leadership of Vermillion Fury.

What happened to the Band of the Hawke, and the attempt on her life allegedly directed by the mother she thought was dead, still plague Rusia’s mind every day. She didn’t know if either mystery would ever be solved, but she would never stop trying to find the answers.

Rusia is intelligent, well educated, gentle outside of combat, and strives to do good as best as she can define it. She is also, at times, painfully shy and suffers from attacks of social anxiety. To those she does not know well, it appears she has an icy shell and can be mistaken for being hard of heart and uncaring. In truth, she feels too much sometimes and masks her pain with a tough exterior. To her friends, however, she is a kind and caring soul. She has a terrible rage buried deep inside to seek revenge against those who destroyed her family, but she tries not to let it rule over her. For now, she is content to learn and help others, but some day that rage will likely break loose and fuel her need to strike out in vengeance.

QUOTES

“Trust is something that does not come easily to me, nor friendship. But for those I count among my companions, I will defend them with my last breath.”

“I do not fear death, only a life without purpose. My sword arm is sure, my heart willing, and my word is true.”

“I know what it means to have someone step in at the darkest moment of your life and shine a light of hope. I strive to be that light for others in every way I can.”

CLOAK & STAGGER

(ESO FanFic: Templar of Shezarr – Part 1)

Cloak & Stagger – Standalone Story (Rusia Cassiana)
Location: Cloak & Stagger Inn, Whitehawke, Stormhaven

After days without a decent meal, Rusia wanted nothing more than a hot bowl of Olien’s stew and a mug of ale at the Cloak and Stagger before she collapsed into exhausted unconsciousness. Depressed, worn out, and angry after another fruitless search for information about what had happened to her mother, Rusia was just in a foul mood all around.

Before she cared for herself, of course, Rusia attended to Sayvil, rubbing the ghost pale mare down and leaving her with a warm oat mash and fresh water. Feeling a bit of a chill in the stables tonight, Rusia fitted a snug blanket across Sayvil’s back to keep her muscles from stiffening up after a night out in the cold.

Poor Sayvil, loyal war horse that she was, Rusia felt bad for constantly keeping her running day and night. Still, if her mother was alive out there, she had to keep looking, even if it was a hopeless cause. Her guild mates were at least understanding of her desire to go out searching every time she had a break in training, but that meant Sayvil rarely got any time off either.

The corner of Rusia’s mouth crooked up as she remembered winning Sayvil in a card game against a wealthy horse dealer who passed through two years ago. She was severely disciplined by one of the captains afterward for underage gambling, but it was worth it.

Flipping a coin to Callac to remind him to bring hay down for Sayvil from the loft, Rusia headed to the barracks to drop off her muck-covered armor and near-empty packs. She had been on the road much longer than she had expected following what turned out to be a fruitless lead. Her supplies had run out days ago and there had been no time to hunt.

Throwing her packs on her bunk and carefully laying out her armor to be scrubbed in a sand barrel in the morning, Rusia grabbed her great sword — always cleaned and sharpened before being sheathed — and draped it across her back. She knew it was relatively safe in Whitehawke with a whole company of mercenaries protecting the town, but Rusia had been caught without a weapon once… and it would never happen again.

Yawning hugely, Rusia trudged through the streets to the Cloak and Stagger, her mouth watering and stomach grumbling at the thought of getting her hands on Oli’s latest culinary creation. Her step quickened as she saw the sign for the inn and tavern ahead. Oli might have fresh bread too, and there was nothing in the world that made Rusia crazy with happiness than his fresh, crusty on the outside, soft in the middle bread.

Stepping through the door of the Cloak and Stagger, Rusia immediately spotted Captain Cromgrup and Commander Sias conversing with a strange orc at one of the tables. Over by the bar counter, Commander Kazya stood with her black wolf by her side and a ferret poking its nose out of her hair. Rusia didn’t recognize anyone else in the main area of the tavern except a few local residents. All the others of her rank were probably still out merrymaking elsewhere or visiting family during their break.

Tired, hungry and cranky, Rusia wasn’t sure if she should join her fellow guild mates or retire to a table of her own. She’d only just graduated to being a full member of the mercenary guild after her time in the academy. She had not yet fought with the company on campaign and wasn’t even sure the Commanders or Captain Kazya even knew her name.

Stalling her choice, Rusia sidled up to the counter as far away from Captain Kazya as possible and caught Bertrand’s eye. She wiggled her eyebrows at him and pointed at her mouth to indicate a begging need for her usual supper. He smiled in acknowledgement as he continued to pour out mead for several townies seated at the bar.

A few minutes later, with ale in one hand and a bowl of stew topped by a fresh quarter loaf of bread in the other, Rusia decided to step up and be brave. She raised her head and walked purposefully to the table where Crom, Sias and the orc she didn’t recognize were chatting over a keg.

“Mind if I take a seat gentlemen?” She tried to smile, get a grip on her anxiety, and not appear like she was about to run away as fast as possible.

“Ah, Rusia. Yes, please join us.” Well, Commander Sias at least did remember her name. Rusia almost actually smiled for real, but that urge quickly left her at the Commander’s next words. Suddenly, the smell of that beloved fresh bread went from heavenly to nauseating as he continued.

“I’m sorry to tell you this, as I know you have only just returned, but I’m afraid we have received what may be distressing news for you. I know you have been holding out hope, but we have confirmation from a reliable source that your mother did indeed perish several years ago. From what we know, it was mercifully quick. I hope this can bring you some peace. I have the letter, along with evidence of her death, back at headquarters. When you are feeling up to seeing them.”

Rusia slowly set down her bowl of stew and bread, and nodded stiffly at the Commander before quickly turning and walking out of the tavern. Her walk quickly became a jog, and then a full out run, and soon her tears were lost in the whipping wind against her face as she fled away from those who would comfort her if she would let them and back into the loneliness that had consumed her for so long.

BLACK WALL

(Fiction by Epicene Blue)

[To my father, who did not escape whole from Vietnam or his broken family, and so had to break everything else around him.]

He didn’t help her as she sprawled on the slickness of the bus stairs, her bag flung all the way under the driver’s chair.  He could hear her labored, rasping breathing as she tried to retrieve her now mud-slicked pocketbook from between the driver’s feet.  He was right there, front seat, could have offered a bare, hairy arm to the raincoated one that reached out to him.  But why should he; why should he?  Wasn’t his fault she fell. 

But there were her eyes as she looked up, staring, accusing; eyes pitted, echoed by stringy black hair so like. . .so like. . .  He turned away, daring his reflection in the grimy bus window to respond.  It refused for a moment, but his mind provided the words anyway.  She has to sit here you know, those dirt-encrusted, transparent lips seemed to say, there aren’t any other seats.  Ignore her, ignore her. . .

But he could not.  Should have helped her, should have helped, should have

Finally, she must have untangled the bag, he felt the bus lurch unsteadily forward, heard the woman grunt as the movement pushed her against the legs of the short, gray-haired man across the aisle from him. He heard the creak of the seat as she sat next to him, carefully avoiding casual contact.  The woman coughed, on purpose, blaming him, he imagined, for her dirty bag and her wrinkled stockings.

He pushed his face forward again, daring to glance at her under his greasy bangs as she dragged her bag into her lap–too color-bright against the dimness of herself.  The diffused light of the bus made her look like a rag-doll thrown on the ground and the green plastic seat made her thighs look jaundiced as they peaked out from under her faded raincoat.  Blaming, he knew, she had always blamed him.  He was not surprised to see her, she had followed him to this place; she had driven him here.  No, his reflection said in the window, calling him back to stare into its sinking eyes,  you don’t know this woman.

But I do, he said against the denial,  I do, I do. . .

A strange odor, musky, warm crept up on him, dragging thoughts of mimosas and of that other place; that place where he should have helped her.  For a moment, the bus became a helicopter flattening the green water-fields of a place he should have never seen.  The remembered itch of the metal bucket helmet made him reach to rub the bare scalp of his hair cut too short.  He nodded to his reflection, I knew it was her, I knew itNo, his smudged face replied, shot through with trees.  No, you don’t know this woman.  He almost smiled at the scared, avoiding mouth in the glass, he knew that no other woman smelled like her. 

The face shifted, rising and then falling again, blurring a little as the bus rounded a corner too fast.

The woman moved, making the seat cry out like a dying baby.  Yes, that was the sound, he had heard it before.  A sharp quick squeal and then a long sighing breath.  She glanced towards him with a tight frown under runny makeup.  Did she know he could see her, that he was watching her fading in and out next to his other face?  But his reflection would not fade.  Perhaps he was fading instead… Where are you going?

Where are you going?

Why would his face ask that?  Ah, not him, that woman, that woman that was not that woman.  He saw her full, drooping lips moving in the half-lit world of his window-world.

He wanted to answer, he needed to answer, but he was trapped in the staring of his eyes from the window—sometimes green with tree or blue-gray with sky.  So he whispered, instead, to the mirror of her, almost lost against the emptiness between buildings.

“I am following you, I am running from you, I am going to see the Black Wall and the white stones in rows on rows on rows.”  No, said his reflection to her reflection, he does not know you, ignore him, ignore him

But she hadn’t heard anyway.  He could see her as she turned away toward the gum-sticky aisle, angry at his lack of response.  Her yellowed raincoat made a slick sound against the seat plastic, reminding him of rain on wet rifles, just as they are being drawn.  He could see her back in the window, dull yellow suddenly on fire with the sun through her like blood, like blood from bullet holes, like blood from her…

No!  Screamed his mouth without moving in the plastic-glass, no, you do not know this woman!

Yes, screamed his hands, naked on imaginary black metal, fingers hovering near the trigger.  Yes.  I do know this woman.  He broke one hand from his remembered weapon and ran it down the pseudo-glass of the metal-framed window as if caressing the image of the woman’s hair.  It came away with a light coat of dust and oil. 

See the mud caked in her dead hair where she has been lying in the ashy mud of this burned village?  He squinted at the laughing sun being smothered by a dirty gray cloud, the light forcing it to pink.  See her blood seeping into the mud, turning it to red clay?  He inhaled like a man tired of fighting the water, drowning himself in the musky smell again, sipping it, analyzing it.  There, smell the heat of the humidity and the choke of the fire; the stink of the ruined rice patties and the flowers and the bodies?                                       

The woman turned again as the bus drew up to her stop, pulling her raincoat close around her, like a shroud, like a shroud…  Her rainbow bag made a dull, wet sound as she rose, bumping it into the driver’s seat before pulling it close to her chest.  She spared a glance at him as she gathered herself.  He could still see her, even clearer now against the slowly graying sky in the reflection of the smudged glass. 

He whispered again to her, but he was afraid she might her, that she might speak again. “Crazy Bastard.”  she muttered under her breath, not noticing that he could see her lips moving in the window.  He did not know those words. He turned to her to stop her, to ask her what she meant, to finally ask for her to forgive him.  She moved forward, without turning back as the bus came to a halt and carefully went down the steps, one hand on the railing, one protecting her handbag.  

He drew back against the lukewarm seat, turning back to his reflection, watching the light fade from its dark hole eyes.  That man in the window never noticed when she left, she had only faded from beside him.  She would be back, he knew; maybe in the glossy surface of the Black Wall, her eyes accusing between the names.  Or flashing, briefly, on the polished white stones laid so neatly in rows on rows on rows.

No, cried his image in the window, unnoticed, no, you never knew that woman!

But he knew her, his hands remembered the feel of her cold stiffness.  I have always known her

THEY WILL BLOOM

(Songwriting by Epicene Blue)

For C.

My stories came pouring out
A river of bitter wine
I wanted your lips to taste every drop

I could not say the truth
I could not tell a lie
I don’t know how this happened
And I couldn’t say why

I don’t want anything from you
It’s not something I can explain
I’m at loss for words this time

Your stories came crashing down
A cascade of falling words
I never wanted those words to stop

Too many walls between us
And too much history behind mine
I want to break through
But there just isn’t enough time

There are so many stories to share
And you’re too far from me
I’m missing your touch even now

But I don’t want anything from you
I don’t know if I have anything to give
I’m at a loss for words this time
Oh, just give it a little more time

If they’re roses, they will bloom

IF THEY’RE ROSES

(ESO FanFic: Templar of Shezarr Part 8)

If They’re Roses… (Standalone – Rusia Cassiana & Ishira Rose) 
Location: Hawke Manor

Rusia slumped in the chair at her desk and stared down at the parchment in front of her with a mixture of anxiety and sadness. She didn’t want to write this letter, but she just felt she had no choice. For a brief moment, she had thought maybe she was ready to open up the walls of her heart and let someone in. Then that cursed Bard, Sabine, had interrupted the almost kiss between her and Ishira at their picnic by the pond. The moment had been broken, and her walls had slammed back up so hard and so high she had no idea how she’d ever breach them again.

*My Dearest Ishira…* Rusia started, and then stopped. She waved the magicked feather of her quill over the words and erased them. *Dear Ishira. I felt what I wanted to say should come in written words, not by hesitant and halting speech whisked to you through a floating message orb. I wanted to apologize once more for what happened the other day at my home. Again, I had no idea my steward’s guest would be there, and certainly not that she would be parading around in the buff inserting herself where she shouldn’t have.*

Rubbing her forehead with her hand, Rusia absently set the tip of her quill in her mouth and then quickly spat it out at the bitter taste of the ink against her tongue. She reached for a glass of wine on the desk and gulped down a hefty swallow. This was really so much harder even than she had thought it would be. It wasn’t just her anxiety and fear she was battling against though. There was just so much going on right now, she just couldn’t allow herself to get involved in some likely doomed love affair as well. It was an excuse, and she knew it, but she tried to lean on that justification as she continued writing.

*I want you to understand that I have grown in a very short time to care for you a great deal. You are a powerful, beautiful, fascinating woman. I am flattered and humbled that you felt I was worthy enough to waste even a small amount of your attention on. In truth, I very much regret the rest of what I am about to write, but I feel I have no choice at the moment.*

Pausing to dip her quill in the inkwell again, she considered her next words. There was no easy way to say any of this. The best she could do is just to tell the truth, or at least as much of it as she was able to let herself. Although, to be frank, even she didn’t really understand half of why her brain acted the way it did. Or why she would rather throw herself bodily in front of a dragon, quite literally, than attempt to form any kind of intimate relationship even with someone who apparently really was interested in her.

*I tried to tell you, as best I could, how hard it is for me to open up to new people. Especially if there is any chance there might be more than just friendship involved. I swore a long time ago to myself not to let people in if I could help it, because in my heart I just can’t shake the fear that something will happen to them; that they will abandon me somehow. You have to know that you are just so entrancing that I started to break that oath to myself. But, Ishira, I am sorry, I just can’t. I’m not ready.*

Rusia set down the quill beside the letter, dropping her head into her hands, trying to fight the warm, tight feeling in her eyes as they strained to hold back tears. She stared forlornly at the rose Ishira had given her, magicked to stay fresh and standing encased in lighted glass on the edge of her desk. That flower held so many promises that she was now pushing away. She might not ever get another chance like this, and yet she still could not accept the opportunity that rose presented to her.

*I hope that you can forgive me if I ask that we put any thoughts beyond just friendship aside. I would still like to know you and possibly to be friends if you don’t find that too awkward. Anything else though, at least right now, is just beyond my ability to handle at the moment. I know it is a terrible cliche to say that line, it’s not you, it’s me, but in this case it is so very true. Please know that I am deeply sorry and that I have nothing but the most abject admiration and respect for you.*

She had no idea what else to say, even though the letter sounded impersonal, bland, and frankly awful. Sighing heavily, she shook her head at her own folly, and signed the letter with a flourish. *Sincerely, Rusia Cassiana, Hawke Manor, Reaper’s March.*

Rusia carefully cleaned the ink from her quill, stopped up the inkwell, and stretched her arms over her head until they gently popped. Taking an ocean blue ribbon from her desk drawer, she rolled the letter carefully and tied it. Snapping her fingers together, she summoned a tiny flame to melt a small container of sealing wax. She banished the flame, rolled her personal seal in the wax, and stamped the wax onto the scroll to secure it shut.

Standing, Rusia walked slowly to the stairs, down to the first floor, and across to the kitchen. She found her house steward, Lagrobt, bent over the oven with his hair done up in a tight bun and wearing a flour dusted apron. A delicious smell of ginger cookies wafted toward her and she smiled despite herself. Somehow he always knew when she was feeling down and his response was usually to throw himself into baking just the right treat to lift her spirits.

“Lagrobt, you are just a sweetheart you know,” Rusia said as he straightened up and turned toward her. He smiled and wiggled his eyebrows, provoking a small chuckle out of her, which he knew it would. “Would you be a total dear and make sure this gets delivered to the mercenary Ishira of the Mistveil Company?”

The orc carefully wipe his flour covered hands on a kitchen rag, took the rolled letter from her outstretched hand, and tucked it inside the vest under his apron. “Consider it done love, but are you absolutely sure you want to send this?” Lagrobt looked at her with obvious concern, his rich, amber eyes peering far too deeply into her soul.

“Yes. I just… I can’t right now. There’s just too much.” Rusia looked down at her feet, shuffling her boots against the stone floor of the kitchen. “I’ll get there Lagrobt. I hope. Some day. Just… I just can’t right now.” He nodded gently, grasping her by the shoulders, pulling her softly against his muscled, flour-covered chest, and resting his chin on her head. “I know. It’s okay honey. It’s okay to not be okay. I know you will find love my Rusia. I believe it. When you are ready.”

Rusia let herself sink into his warm arms as Lagrobt gently petted her head like her father used to so long ago. *I hope you are right my friend,* she thought to herself, *I really hope you are right.*

*****************************************

Later that night, Rusia pulled the beautiful lute she’d bought on Betnikh out from the trunk where she’d been hiding it out of her sight. She uncased the instrument and carefully tuned it the way her father had taught her when she was just eight years old. For the first time since he died, she plucked out chords on its strings. In the beginning, tunes she had not played in over a decade. Then, gradually, those notes morphed into a new song. The first she’d written as an adult. It wasn’t very good, but it helped to ease her heart to put her emotions into words she hadn’t been able to say in her letter to Ishira.

My stories came pouring out
A river of bitter wine
I wanted your lips to taste every drop

I could not say the truth
I could not tell a lie
I don’t know how this happened
And I couldn’t say why

I don’t want anything from you
It’s not something I can explain
I’m at loss for words this time

Your stories came crashing down
A cascade of falling words
I never wanted those words to stop

Too many walls between us
And too much history behind mine
I want to break through
But there just isn’t enough time

There are so many stories to share
And you’re too far from me
I’m missing your touch even now

But I don’t want anything from you
I don’t know if I have anything to give
I’m at a loss for words this time
Oh, just give it a little more time

If they’re roses, they will bloom

———————————-

Ishira read the letter twice blinking back tears but let them fall her face hardened. And she wrote her reply.

Rusia I’m sorry that you feel this way ill keep it short…your amazing…and for once I thought i found someone who saw me for what I am…but if you continue to hide behind insecurities and what ifs…you wont know true happiness…they are chains holding you back…we all die eventually but its the moments that we are living that we should take advantage of….i just wish you learned this lesson sooner.

Be well.

Ishira

KEEPING PROMISES

(ESO FanFic: Templar of ShezarrPart 7)

Keeping Promises – Closed RP (Rusia Cassiana & Misto Thalos AKA Coldwater)
Locations: Hawke Manor and Northern Elsweyr

Rusia had been overwhelmed by a lot in a very short time. She was still considering the contract she wanted to put out for information about her apparently murderous mother. Perhaps someone in the Mistveil Company mercs she’d joined might be better than she was at finding previously assumed dead people trying to assassinate their offspring… Hmmm. She had also promised to lend her help to The Grey Legion in their quest to help war refugees after their leader had literally saved her life, but kept missing opportunities to join their missions. She really needed to rectify that. 

Then there was her visits with the beautiful Ishira from the Mistveil Company mercs. She still wasn’t sure exactly where that was going. Plus, she was now playing indefinite host to one of Lagrobt’s old ‘friends’, a bard by the name of Sabine who Rusia believed was far more than she seemed on the surface.

Still, even with all of that, she couldn’t forget the odd visitation she’d had from a Dunmer elf who had somehow decided she could help him with the dragons ravaging Elsweyr. Rusia had dealt with a lot of nasty creatures in her rather short life as a mercenary, but dragons? She was afraid her short life might end up never growing much longer if she tried to take on giant, flying, fire-breathing creatures. 

She had made promises though. To her father, to try to always help those who asked. To Sindri of The Grey Legion, that she would put her sword between the terrors of war and those who suffered from its wrath. And finally, to the mysterious elf who had come to her asking to defend the helpless against a threat they had no power to fight. 

“Well dammit, I guess that’s that then,” Rusia muttered as she picked up the glowing device the elf had left after his surprise visitation. “Let’s see what this Dunmer wants from me regarding these dragons. Besides, it will be distracting, if not pleasant, vacation from everything else driving me absolutely nuts right now.”

Holding the device up to her face, Rusia peered into it and spoke as the elf had instructed her to do when she was ready. “Uh, hello Mr. Dunmer. I guess, if it’s a good time for you, I’m available to help if you still want me to. Let’s try not to get me killed though, if that’s at all possible. Thanks.” She put the device down on the nightstand beside her bed and grabbed her sword belt to strap it on. The device she’d spoken into whirred softly as it began to glow even more brightly.

“This should be interesting…”

The glow of the device slowly forms into the image of a blue face lacking hair and no definitive male or female characteristics. The image flickers as the head rotates looking about the room an autonomous voice speaks from it as it settles it’s sight on Rusia, “Rusia Cassiana, female. Racial origin Imperial. User has been identified.” The image flickers as it continues, “Message from user Coldwater.” The image shifts to a familiar face that of a dunmer elf with white hair, the image of Misto looks directly at Rusia, “Sorry about this but things are a bit hectic at the moment and so I left this recording in case you should try to contact me. The device your seeing this on is know as a Personal Temporal Spatial Device. I know big long name which most likely doesn’t mean anything to you but simply put it will allow you to travel to any location of your choice.” The image of Misto flickers as he continues, “Anyways I’m head to speak with the Order once more about the issues in Elswyer, you may join me or ask your device to deliver you to the command post. If you should decide on the later upon arriving ask for Do’inna or Cresciu Sosia. They’re going to need someone with your expertise to help with patrols and so forth.” Misto’s image flickers once more, “Oh and feel free to select whatever image and voice you wish for your Personal Temporal Spatial Device to have.” The image of Misto flickers and is once more replace by the blue face. It stares up at Rusia, the autonomous voice speaks once more, “Greetings Miss Cassiana as per Master Coldwaters orders how may I assist you?” The image falls silent and stares at the young imperial woman.

“Well, I was right. This is going to be interesting,” Rusia said, cocking her head sideways at the strange little device. “So I guess Coldwater was the elf’s name, or at least what he’s going by.” She turns the thing around and upside down, the odd blue face turning with it, before raising it up to her face. “Uh, I guess my image would be whatever I look like right now? And you can call me, or it can call me, Ru I guess? And, hmm, well, this is my voice, so that would be my voice, okay?”

The device whirred in her hand, and an image of herself replaced the plain blue face. She stared at the magical reflection, smoothing back tendrils of auburn red hair trying to escape from the tight bun she’d tried to contain it in. The device whirred once more, and then asked if she wanted to confirm her choices. “Uh, yes, sure. Confirmed. That’s me. Thank you?”

Rusia’s face faded and was replaced again by the genderless blue face, which seemed to be waiting expectantly. “Hmmm. I don’t want to interrupt, uh, Master Coldwater if he is in the midst of some kind of negotiation or business. Probably better to just transport myself right to where I’m needed.” She set the device down on her nightstand again, double checking her armor was tightly lashed, her weapons strapped on properly, and her field kit pack closed and latched. Slinging the pack over one shoulder, she grabbed the device once more and held it up to her face again.

The Elder Scrolls Online: Tamriel Unlimited_20190620165011

“Take me to the ‘command post’ please,” she instructed the object. Rusia braced herself as she felt a tingle all over her skin and the walls of her bedroom phased away. She closed her eyes to avoid feeling seasick during the transition. She knew she’d arrived at her destination when the tingle faded from her skin and the quiet of her manor was replaced with the sounds of multiple voices having conversations not far from her new location. Opening her eyes, she immediately caught the attention a Khajiit standing against a wall just a few feet away.

The Khajiit stepped toward her with their hackles raised, but relaxed when she held the orb up she’d just used to transport there. “Um, hello, my pardon, but could you direct me to…” Rusia searched her memory for the right names the Dunmer had told her in his message. “Do’inna or Cresciu Sosia? Master Coldwater sent me.”

What was formally a few weeks prior just a few small buildings has now turned into a village on a mountain side. People bustle about with buckets of water and various tools, some carrying bags of grain. Others carrying weapons, saddle bags. Everyone seeming to have a sense of purpose and calm presence to them. Southern cool wind blows down off the peek of the mountain.

The Khajiit nods and points off towards the west along a dirt road that leads between some buildings, “Those ones will be at the command tent on the edge of the village. This one would be happy to show the five claw the way.” The Khajiit gestures for Rusia to follow them.

As the two wind between the buildings the laughter of Khajiit and imperial children can be heard, the smells of various aroma’s drift from some of the buildings. As they approach the edge of the village over the outer buildings a large canvas tent with four flags baring blue dragons can be seen fluttering on the corners of the tent.
A man with shoulder length dark hair tied back in a pony tail steps out of the tent, his armor marred and scuffed sports a blue dragon on the chest. He pauses as his green gaze falls upon Rusia and flashes a roguish smiles at her, “So Miss Cassiana I presume? Are you going to be our new hero?” His roguish smiles widen ever so slightly towards the end as he offers a partial bow to her.

Startled, Rusia sketched a quick bow back to the man. “Ah, hero, no. Most certainly not the hero type I’m afraid. Just a dodgy merc looking to pay it forward a bit.” Rusia cleared her throat softly, resting one hand on the pommel of her sword, Grayswandir. “I have some experience in being a merc company lieutenant. I’m not really sure how Master Coldwater would have known that from our brief interactions… but he does seem the mysterious sort. Anyway, he thought I might be helpful in planning out patrols and the like.”

The man raises an eyebrow at Rusia and smiles again, gesturing for her to proceed him into the tent behind him. “Well, let’s get to work, shall we?”

*******************************************

Rusia rested her head on her hands and stared over the map spread out across the middle of the table. “Too much territory, never enough warm bodies,” she muttered to herself. She’d been planning out patrol routes for hours, trying to cover as much ground as possible with the forces on hand, but she was feeling a headache coming on. “This will have to do for the time being.”

Stretching her arms up, Rusia felt her spine pop in several places and yawned loudly. Behind her, a young Khajiit cub wearing a tabard sewn with a blue dragon hopped up off a cushion in the corner of the tent and ran to her side. “Does m’am need anything? This one is happy to fetch food, wine?”

Rusia smiled at the eager cub, always so keen on being helpful since she and her parents were rescued from a burning village after a dragon attack. “Thank you Ma’isha, but I am well. Why don’t you take yourself off to bed now, it’s very late.” The cub bowed and started to leave, but Rusia called her back. “Oh wait, I’m sorry, I’m exhausted and forgot.” She dug through her belt pouch for a handful of coins and then poured them into Ma’isha’s paws. “Your wages for the week dear. Take those back to your parents and tell them you have been incredibly helpful.”

The Khajiit child beamed as she tucked the coins into a sash at her waist. “This one is pleased to be of use! Will return again as the sun rises!” Rusia smiled at the child again, and leaned toward her as if they were sharing a secret. “Now, you be sure to keep one of those coins at least just for you! You’ve earned it dearling and there are lots of lovely things you might like in our growing little market. I hear,” she whispered very seriously, “they might even have… pocket pies!”

Ma’isha squealed just a tiny bit and clutched at her sash as Rusia waved her out of the tent to return home. “Such a sweet little thing,” she said to herself after the child had left. “Amazing she is so good-hearted and happy after all she has been through.” The thought turned from pleasant to sad as Rusia thought of the other children who had not survived to try to recover from their trauma. She carefully gathered up the map she’d marked with chalk so as not to smudge it and rolled it up to take to the strategy meeting in the morning.

Rusia considered popping over to the new headquarters of The Gray Legion again for a brief visit, but last time she’d been there, Sindri had been deeply entrenched in trying to get the place in some semblance of order. Rusia had tried to help or get him to rest, considering he’d just nearly died, but he’d just waved her off. She had no idea yet what being named his Second while he was injured meant, but so far it mostly seemed to be chastising him for over exerting himself.

Meanwhile, however, the Legion had proved invaluable in helping funnel some of the more badly injured refugees they’d taken in to places of healing. For now, serving both Sindri and Master Coldwater had been a happy convergence of duties, even if rather exhausting flitting back and forth. Thankfully, she hadn’t been asked in on any bounties for the Mistveil mercs lately as the company was on a well-deserved break from group contracts at the moment. .

If she wasn’t going to check in with the Legion tonight, Rusia contemplated porting back to her house for a truly good night’s sleep. She hadn’t had one in days. The cot in the tent was hardly comfortable. But then she remembered that slinky bard friend of Lagobt’s was still probably crashing in their spare room. She really didn’t want to deal with her right now, especially after the scene she’d made when she interrupted Rusia having a picnic with Ishira, the beautiful merc she’d met while on a contract with the Mistveil Company. The Bard Sabine, as she always self-importantly introduced herself, had seriously mucked that up.

No, Rusia thought, even if not for the bard, it was better if she stayed here anyway. There was always the chance of an unexpected attack or a new group of bandits brought in to be put to the question: fight or be put down like the dogs they were. That was Master Coldwater’s orders, and as bloody as it might be, she saw the logic in it. Bandits were scavenges, feeding off the weak and dying. She had no mercy for them in her heart.

Turning down the lantern by her cot, Rusia stripped off her boots and leather jerkin, taking care not to snag the blue dragon pin stuck through the shoulder. The rest of her clothes she left on, just in case. She laid down and tried to find some sort of comfortable position to sleep in. Her mind, however, just kept racing around. This conflict seemed to stretch out endlessly ahead, and she worried herself sick about all those who might lose their homes or their lives.

Rusia was tired of spending her days in tents and inspecting the patrol lines before they were sent out. She would speak to Master Coldwater tomorrow, if he was available, or to Do’inna or Crescius. It was time she stopped just using her brains and put a little more brawn into this battle. She could almost hear her blade ring softly in agreement from the weapon stand by her cot. Satisfied at the thought of actually putting her sword to work personally in defense of innocent kitlings like Ma’isha, Rusia finally fell off to sleep.

She had packed her gear and stowed her saddlebags on Snow, but Rusia found herself reluctant to leave. These past few weeks she’d led a frenetic life, porting between home, The Grey Legion headquarters, and the camp turned village in Northern Elsweyr where she’d been assisting in the fight against both bandits and dragons ravaging the countryside. One would think she’d be ready to leave one of those sets of duties behind. Instead, Rusia found herself feeling regret.

Coldwater had things under control and his operation here now running very smoothly indeed. So much so that he had allowed himself to be pulled away to other responsibilities for the time being. She believed she’d served him well, both in the strategy tent and out on the battlefield, rounding up bandits and rescuing those they could from marauding dragons.

At this point, however, Rusia felt superfluous with all the new recruits coming in with much more experience in both dragon hunting and large scale conflicts than she had. Plus, she was feeling the call to spend more of her time helping with The Grey Legion affairs, especially after temporarily serving as Sindri’s second while he was recuperating from a terrible attack.

Speaking of attempted assassinations, Rusia also needed to stop hesitating out of fear of what she’d find and actually try to discover if her mother really was still alive — and had tried to kill her just a few weeks ago. She’d intended to put out a contract for information, maybe to the Mistveil Company where she occasionally picked up bounties herself. She’d kept putting it off though, with the excuse she had so many other things going on. Time to buckle down and get it done.

Scouting out people who didn’t want to be found wasn’t one of her strong suits. She needed help. Her steward, Lagrobt, had also hinted that his friend — and currently her rather unwelcome houseguest — the Bard Sabine might also prove to be useful in that regard. If she could stomach asking for the woman’s help. Lagrobt was like family to Rusia, but she was not fond of his Bard friend in the least.

Sighing loudly, Rusia carefully took one more look around the tent she’d been using to make sure she didn’t miss anything. Her little helper Ma’isha had done an excellent job of collecting all her things and cleaning up. She’d rewarded her with a hefty bag of coins. Rusia was very pleased she’d been able to work with a Grey Legion contact to find Ma’isha and her parents a safe place to settle down on a little farm far away from dragons and relatively bandit free. They would be leaving shortly after she did.

Leaving the tent, Rusia whistled her particular call for her glaringly white warhorse Snow. He’d wandered a few tents down and was busy begging carrots from someone making stew over a cook fire. Mouthing his successfully won prize, the overly large equine sauntered back to his mistress looking quite pleased with himself. She playfully swatted at his ear before setting her foot to a stirrup and mounting.

*Time to go home,* she thought to herself as she rode out through the camp to find a safe, open spot to port her and Snow back to Reaper’s March. *Or at least, time to go back to the closest thing to home I have. And time to have a talk with Lagrobt and that Bard. Even if she is willing to help me out, I really need her to get the hell out of my house before I throw her smug, arrogant self down the well.*

THE LYNX & THE TIGER

(ESO FanFic: Templar of ShezarrPart 6)

The Lynx and the Tiger – Closed RP (Rusia Cassiana / Sabine Aldwyr & Ishira Rose)
Locations: Hawke Manor

Rusia hesitated as she considered the message orb she’d just recorded. She wasn’t sure if she was really ready to try to make new, close connections again. Whether as friends… or anything else. But the memory of nearly dying just a short time ago urged her to try. She couldn’t just stay holed up in Hawke Manor forever, with only the company of a snarky Orcish steward. She’d made good strides toward rejoining life again by joining The Gray Legion and signing up with the Mistveil Company. But this was… more personal.

The contract to hunt down cultists with the Mistveil Company mercs had involved a lot of chaos and frantic combat. But in the midst of it, she couldn’t help but notice one of the company members in particular. Ishira. At least, Rusia thinks she heard the name right. Beautiful, powerful, vibrant, irreverent, brash, and… intriguing. Very much not at all like herself. Rusia was a wallflower, shy and awkward in social situations. Only in combat did she truly emerge from her cocoon and blossom into a fierce and ferocious warrior woman.

Ishira. She’d shared a few glances and a few words with the gorgeous mercenary. Enough to think perhaps she might have found someone she could find common ground with. Possibly form a friendship. Maybe… beyond that Rusia wasn’t ready to think about quite yet.

“Well, if you don’t send this message, you’ll never know will you?” Rusia muttered to herself. She finalized the spell on the orb, closed her eyes against her inner anxiety, and let it go to seek out Ishira, wherever she might be.

****************************************

A message orb popped into existence next to Ishira, glowing brightly in her face until she captured it and told it to play.

“Um, hi, hello. This is Rusia, uh, from the other night at the hunt for the cultists. The Mistveil Company contract. Oh, I’m sorry I’m terrible at this. Um, I just wondered if you were free, if you might wish to join me for a drink. Anywhere you might like. The Rosy Lion perhaps. Or here at my house, or yours. Wherever. Um, or not if you don’t want to. That’s fine too. Just send the message orb back if you would, either way. And, it was lovely to meet you. Uh, thanks.”

****************************************

A soft chime and swirl of light announced Rusia’s arrival in the courtyard of Hawke Manor. The bright light of the full moon poured down on the polished stone under her feet.“Well,” she said out loud to no one in particular. “That was… awkward.” Not Ishira, she had been delightful. But Rusia was quite sure she’d been about as boring and bumbling as she possibly could have been. “Ah hell,” Russia muttered as she strode up the steps to the house. “I’m just really bad at this people stuff.”

At least Ishira had been more than gracious, and certainly had enough personality to fill a room all by herself, no matter how lame her conversation partner might be. She had seemed genuinely disappointed when Rusia had to leave, so that was something at least. Rusia had wanted to stay and try to get to know the fetching merc better, but she’d been due at the Mistveil Company headquarters about another possible contract. 

After she’d left Ishira at the tavern, however, she’d been overcome with a feeling of lightheadedness and nausea. Maybe it was the wine she’d drank far too rapidly, or just the stress of trying to interact on such a personal level. Regardless, she was in no shape to be taking off after some bandit or cultist or whatever at the moment. She needed a quiet bath and a good night’s rest. She’d think about sultry mercs and fresh bounties tomorrow.

Pulling open the front door of Hawke Manor, Rusia instantly sensed something was a bit odd in the house, but she chalked it up to her steward, Lagrobt, probably playing with odd little magics in the kitchen again. She had no idea what weirdness he did when he took over the kitchen from their regular chef and housekeeper. Frankly, she didn’t care because no one could concoct the astonishingly delicious breads and pastries Lagrobt could when he was in a baking mood. She dearly hoped maybe he was whipping up some of his delectable fruit tarts. She’d have to check after her bath now that her stomach was starting to settle down and play nice again.

Climbing the stairs to the second floor, Rusia stripped off her jacket and tossed it on a bench in the stairwell, followed by her shirt and dagger belt. Lagrobt would yell at her later, but she was tired and her bedroom was on the other side of the floor. Stripping off her boots, she kicked them under the bench and walked toward the bathing room, starting to unlace her pants as she turned past the screen in the hall shielding her specially made, magically heated, giant tub.

“Well hello there lovely, I wasn’t aware my bath came with an attendant, but please do come in. My back could desperately use a pair of extra hands to scrub.”

Rusia stopped in shock at the entrance to the bathing room, her hands still tangled in the ties of her pants. Sprawled inside her tub was a stunning, dusky-skinned woman with long, ebony hair spilling across her voluptuous and very naked breasts. The Redguard beauty stared back at her with an amused expression, her full lips just barely parted in a roguish smile. As she opened her mouth to ask the woman who the hell she was and what she was doing in her bath, the amber-eyed stranger dropped her eyes to Rusia’s also very naked chest.

With a squeak, Rusia threw up her hands to cover her breasts and nearly fell over her own feet backing out into the hallway. “LAGROBT GRO-NOLOB!” She yelled down the stairs. “WHO THE HELL IS IN MY BATHING TUB?” Rushing back over to the bench where she’d dropped her shirt and jacket, Rusia hastily threw them both back on. She heard a soft, silky chuckle follow her down the hallway from the woman currently enjoying the steaming hot water she should be relaxing in. Furious and embarrassed, Rusia shoved her feet back into her boots and stomped down the stairs.

She met her steward Lagrobt, an orc one might even classify as rather ‘dashing’, halfway across the main foyer as he was striding from the kitchen toward the stairs. Rusia stopped about two inches from his burly chest, hands clenched into fists on her hips, and glared up at his somewhat contrite looking face.

“Would you care to explain why there is a strange woman in my tub right now who just suggested that I might want to SCRUB HER BACK?” Rusia pointed an accusing finger at Lagrobt’s prominent but well-shaped nose. “Did we NOT have that discussion about how overnight guests were to be agreed upon BEFORE their arrival?

Even though Lagrobt could easily have broken his employer with a strong hug, or knifed her in the back before she even knew he had drawn a dagger, the orc looked down at her with a sheepish expression of apology. “I’m sorry dear, it was an emergency, and I didn’t want to interrupt your date darling.”

Rusia took a step back, took a deep breath, and tried to lower her voice from strident to just merely indignant. “It was NOT a date.” She pulled out a chair from the gaming table next to her and abruptly sat down. “We were just getting drinks. As fellow mercenaries getting to know each other a bit. That’s all.” Still glaring at Lagrobt, she gestured for him to take seat across from her. “Besides, that’s beside the point. Now will you please explain to me exactly what is going on?”

“Ah, yes, okay dear. Not a date, of course,” Lagrobt said as he gently lowered himself into the delicately carved chair across the table, the corners of his mouth twitching slightly. “I deeply apologize for the surprise guest love. She’s an… old friend who found herself in an unfortunate situation and needed a place to, shall we say, get herself together?”

Lagrobt reached across and patted Rusia’s hand gently where it rested on the table “You’ve always said Hawke Manor was a place for those who needed respite, for whatever reason. I am sorry I did not let you know in advance, but time was short, and I thought you would not turn away someone in need of assistance.”

Sighing deeply, Rusia took Lagrobt’s giant, manicured hand between both of hers and squeezed gently. “It’s okay. You’re right. I’m sorry. I was just startled and it’s been a long day. Our home, emphasis on OUR, is always open to anyone in search of sanctuary. That is how the Band of the Hawke raised me after my parents…” Rusia paused, swallowing and sitting back in chair. “Well, you know. They took me in and gave me everything I needed when I had nothing. That’s a debt I can never repay to them. So I strive to pay it forward in whatever way I can.”

“That is a most admirable and beautiful sentiment,” a beguiling voice murmured from behind Rusia. “Perhaps a bit naive in this harsh and uncaring world, but still, most laudable.”

Her back stiffening at the implied accusation she was ‘niave, Rusia stood quickly, tugging her jacked down to cover her still unlaced pants. She turned to see the stranger exiting the staircase and saunter slowly over to them, her ample hips swinging in an almost hypnotic rhythm. She was wrapped in nothing but one of Rusia’s large, fluffy towels, with another snugged around her head to restrain her wet hair. Lagrobt also stood, his eyes shining with a strange gleam, and beckoned the stranger over to his side.

“Ah my love, I am glad to see you looking yourself again. Please let me introduce you to my employer, and my dear friend, the Lady Rusia Cassiana, formerly of Bruma.” The woman curtsied ever so slightly toward Rusia, her damp skin gleaming like burnished gold from the light of the chandelier above them. “And my dear Rusia, this would be the renowned Bard Sabine Aldwyr. Desert Rose of the Alik’r, daughter to the great poet Weltin of Sentinel and warrior chieften Ariana At-Fara.”

Rusia blanched, giving Lagrobt a scathing look. “A Bard, you say?” Sighing again, Rusia looked to the woman again, bowing modestly toward her. “Welcome to Hawke Manor. My pardon for the, uh, intrusion earlier. I was unaware of your arrival. I am pleased to offer a safe haven to any friend of Lagrobt, of course. He is as family to me. Our home is yours for as long as you like. Is there anything you have immediate need of?”

The Bard smiled charmingly, taking Rusia’s forearm in her delicate hands and caressing it gently. “Thank you ever so much dear Lady for your generous hospitality.” Her eyes glowing a deep, rich umber, Sabine released her arm and tugged forlornly at the towel wrapped around her torso, flashing a copious amount of cleavage. “I must admit, I have arrived in quite a dreadful state. You see, I was taken captive by this horrid orc bandit and forced to abandon everything when I fled at the first opportunity.”

Her white teeth gleaming between dark, crimson lips, the bard grinned at Rusia boldly as her eyes traveled over her body from boots to collar. “I would be so very grateful if you might have something, anything, I might borrow to wear until I can get out tomorrow to retrieve some belongings I have hidden away. Other than that, if you might just be willing to offer up a spare bed or couch for a night or two while I get my affairs in order, that would be incredibly kind.”

Sabine was several inches shorter than Rusia, and quite a bit curvier, but she had a closet full of gowns she never wore. One of them could likely be tweaked to fit the bard, especially in Lagrobt’s hands. He was a master of magical tailoring, among his nearly endless plethora of skills. She wasn’t particularly thrilled at having a bard in the house, as the whole subject of music right now was particularly painful at the moment, but she couldn’t turn her away. It was just not in Rusia’s nature.

“Very well,” Rusia attempted to smile back at the bard, fully aware it likely came across far more likely as a pained grimace. “Lagrobt, if you could show Sabine to the spare room and help her with finding something appropriate in the storage wardrobe there? Also, if you could kindly reset the bathing room for a fresh bath for me, I would appreciate it.”

“Bard Sabine,” Rusia said, bowing again to the tawny desert lynx wrapped in towels. “Please do call me Rusia, or Ru, not Lady. That was my mother… and I am no lady. You have free range of the manor and the grounds, I just ask you to respect the sanctity of my private bedroom please. I sense Lagrobt has already set the house wards to recognize you, so you should be able to teleport in and out with no issues. Just let Lagrobt or our housekeeper Malva know if you should require anything. She is usually here around dawn and leaves at sunset.”

Nodding toward Lagrobt, Rusia turned toward the kitchen. “I am going to grab a bite to eat while you get the bard settled in, and then I will have my much delayed bath. I would much appreciate it if you might join me in the morning for a private breakfast, Lagrobt.” She turned her head back to the orc and raised one eyebrow in his direction. “We still have a few things to discuss.”

With that, Rusia stepped away from the two and headed across the room into the kitchen. She heard them whispering gently behind her as they moved toward the stairs. Shaking her head softly, Rusia followed her nose to a platter cooling on the counter near the stove. Her steward was far too aware that sometimes the right treat could be a far better apology than words. Filling her hands with two still warm fruit tarts, Rusia took a seat at the rough-hewn table along one wall of the kitchen.

Downing one fruit tart like a hungry wolf, Rusia slowed down to nibble the second in order to truly appreciate it’s delicate but powerful berry flavor. What a day. What a night. Her mind wandered back to her meeting with Ishira. She and Sabine were both captivating women, but something about the bard had instantly pushed any thoughts of her attractiveness out of Rusia’s mind. While Sabine had seemed warm, inviting, and agreeable on the surface, there was a lingering coldness in her eyes and calculated movements that sent warning signals up her spine.

Ishira, on the other hand, was less of a seductive lynx and more of a sensuous wild tiger. She glowed with life and vitality, a woman who didn’t slink in the shadows, but went after life and love full force out in the open. Or at least, that was Rusia’s impression of her so far. That was something she admired and respected. In fact, she found it irresistibly compelling. She wasn’t sure what that meant yet. But she very much hoped she would hear from Ishira again soon, if she hadn’t been totally put off by their first meeting at the bar.

Stuffing the last of the second tart in her mouth, Rusia cleaned the crumbs off the table and threw then into the fire under the cooking pot. It must be well after midnight at this point and she was damn well finally going to get that bath. Everything else she just needed to put out of her mind until morning.

And maybe, just maybe, she might find a message orb from a certain ravishing merc waiting for her when she woke up…

****************************************

Ishira woke up and stretched. Feeling well rested after her most recent contract her thoughts lingered around Rusia she was pleasant beautiful and even her shyness was something that Ishira found adorable. There was something compelling alluring about her that made Ishira thirst to know more about her. She decided to record a message and see how things would progress.

” Good morning Rusia its Ishira i hope you slept well…i was wondering if yiu wanted to meet again…..i…..i really enjoyed our time and didnt want it cut short so soon respond back if you do…ill be waiting” she said and smiled as she sent the orb to it’s destination .

****************************************

“Well Lagrobt,” Rusia said around a mouth of sweet, buttery scone covered in thick cream and tangy fruit jam, “I would appreciate it if you could ask your guest not to play or sing in the house while she is staying with us. I’m just… not up to having music in the manor right now. She is welcome to come up here to the watchtower to play if she likes, or by the pond if she’d be more comfortable.”

Frowning slightly at his friend and employer, Lagrobt steepled his hands and rested his formidable but well-shaped chin on his fingers. “Perhaps this might be an opportunity for you to rediscover your joy in music my dearest. Sabine could help you to get back into playing. I’m sure she would be more than willing.”

Rusia pushed her breakfast plate away and gazed over her steward’s shoulder down into the morning mist cloaking Reaper’s March. “No. I’m not ready for that. Just… just ask her if you would.” Lagrobt nodded as he stood and started collecting their breakfast plates and leftovers. “Oh and um, I think I’ve decided to put out a contract on my mother.”

Lagrobt stilled, looking down at her with concern. “Are you sure about this Ru? Do you really think she truly is still alive and actually sent a daedra to try to kill you?”

Rusia rose and stepped over to the wide, open side of the watchtower, staring off into the distance. “Didn’t just try Lagrobt. A few seconds more, if Sindri from The Grey Legion hadn’t found me, and I would have been quite dead.”

She paused, still shaken by how close she’d come to the end of everything. “Yes. I need to find her. If she really is out there. I won’t make it a death contract. Just an information contract. If I can’t find her, and you know my skills are more in bashing my way through things than sneaking around trying to find those who don’t want to be found, then I need someone more skilled to do so. I want to know where she is… and then I will figure out where to go from there.”

“Very well love, just be careful. You’ve been doing so well lately,” Lagrobt said gently. “You were in a pretty bad state when I found you face down on the floor of that bar last year. To be frank, honey, until that assassination attempt, you were still pretty much a total mess. It’s wonderful to see you out and about without a sword always strapped to you side. Joining a new company, getting involved in charity work, and now even going on… NOT dates.” The orc grinned at her, showing his perfectly aligned and scrupulously polished ivory teeth and tusks. “I very much like this new Ru.”

Turning fully back to her steward as he magically whisked the dishes back to the kitchen, Rusia let herself chuckle softly at the orc’s enthusiasm. “Yes, well, we’ll see if there will be any more NOT dates in the future, I don’t know how…”

A soft chime interrupted her as a glowing message orb popped into view between her and Lagrobt. The orc laughed lightly as he opened the hatch door to the watchtower stairs. “I believe that is my cue to leave and find out what our new guest is up to this morning and how long she intends to be crashing in our spare room.” Rusia shooed him down the stairs as she reached for the blinking orb to play it.

She listened to Ishira’s lovely voice as it emerged from the message orb, inviting her to meet up again. Rusia was honestly a little shocked that she hadn’t completely blown any hope of seeing the enthralling merc again. “I wonder…” she speculated out loud, “if I could get Lagrobt to take his bard friend out for the afternoon. Perhaps Ishira might be willing to come over for a picnic by the waterfall.”

Rusia nodded to herself and strode toward the hatch after her steward. She pulled open the door and yelled down the stairs as she started taking thing two at a time. “Wait for me Lagrobt!”

****************************************

Sitting on an intricately embroidered pillow under the Khajiit vacation tent by the pond, Rusia fidgeted nervously. She surveyed the plates of snacks and bottle of chilled Nereid Wine, hoping Ishira would like them. Adjusting the cushions beside her yet again, she checked once more to be sure the house wards were set to open for visitors to be able to teleport in. Rusia had received a chime back that her message orb had been received and read. She just hoped that meant Ishira would accept her invitation to join her for an early dinner.

———————————

Ishira was thrilled that she accepted smiling at the orb she showered and dressed a bit light a beautiful silk red bottom with a slit down the middle and and a matching top both pieces fitted her curves well. She immediately squeezed the teleport rune and was there her sun kissed skin truly radiant in the afternoon sun.

————————————

Rusia felt the house wards ping against her skin lightly as her visitor arrived. She stood quickly, tugging down the fancy waistcoat she’d let Lagrbot dress her in, after she had absolutely rejected the vibrant green dress he’d attempted to get her to wear first. She would wear a gown if the situation absolutely required it, but when she wasn’t clad in armor, she’d much prefer to just go about in her leathers.

She spotted Ishira arriving in the courtyard and whistled briefly to capture her attention. The bewitching merc, dressed head to toe in form-hugging red silk, waved in acknowledgement and began walking toward her down the path to the pond. Rusia thought Ishira’s beauty more than rivalled the newly planted flowers she’d magicked along the trail in anticipation of her guest.

As Ishira arrived at the lounging tent, Rusia held out a hand to guide her up the step to the platform. Smiling, the merc placed her warm, lovely hand into hers, squeezing it gently as Rusia guided her to the cushions gathered around the light meal she’d laid out. Trying not to blush or stammer, Rusia exchanged greetings with her guest, complimenting her on her alluring outfit and thanking her for coming.

Releasing Rusia’s hand slowly with a soft caress, Ishira settled onto a large blue cushion, her outfit contrasting perfectly to the material like she had planned it to stand out. She leaned against another pillow, her long legs stretching out to the side as if she was preparing to be painted by some great master.

Sitting down cross-legged on a cushion next to Ishira, Rusia pulled the wine from it’s cold-ensorcelled container and offered Ishira a glass. “Yes, please. Chilled wine on such a wonderfully warm day would be delightful,” the merc purred, pickup up a goblet and holding out to be filled. “By the way, may I say I think it has just been terribly adorable how we have been sending messages back and forth. Although I’m glad we finally get the chance to actually be face to face again.”

“Ah, yes,” Rusia cleared her throat gently as she poured her own glass of wine. “I must admit I’m much more comfortable conversing by magical means long distance than I am in person.” She looked down at her cup, trying to explain without sounding ridiculous. “People just make me nervous. I’m… always afraid I’m going to say or do the wrong thing. Drive them away, or end up the butt of someone’s jokes. I guess I have a bit of abandonment issue, you could say.”

Taking a deep breath, Rusia looked up into Ishira’s eyes and smiled softly. “For the right people, though, it’s worth battling my anxiety though. But enough about me. I know almost nothing at all about you. Please, tell me about yourself, if you would. I didn’t get a chance to hear much about where you are from and how you ended up here and with the Mistveil Company. From your skills in combat, I would say you could go anywhere you want and probably have your pick of positions.” Grabbing a small, crustless half sandwich from the platter in front of her, Rusia leaned toward the enchanting warrior woman. “Tell me more about the mysterious Ishira.”

“Well im from Abahs landing so the heat is something i am quite used too i was always the warrior even when i was young my father would always practice with me eventually my mother fell ill and my father wouldn’t pay for the medical bills himself so i took on Merc contracts…my father didn’t approve but understood the situation eventually. Stumbled upon Mistvel when it was still ran by kadir = she smiled softly her beautiful eyes meeting hers.

Rusia blushed furiously as Ishira grasped her free hand, caressing and kissing it gently. She relaxed into it for a moment, her heartbeat skipping at the delicious sensation. Then the anxiety monster in her belly roared into life and slowly pulled her hand away from Ishira’s tantalzing grasp. The merc’s mouth twitched sideways in what seemed like a cross between amusement and something else Rusia couldn’t quite pin down. She quickly covered her movement by picking up her goblet and taking a swift sip of wine and munching on her sandwich.

“Sounds like you have had quite the adventurous life,” Rusia said between mouthfuls; trying desperately not to talk with her mouth full. “I haven’t had a chance to do much work with the Mistveil Company yet, but if you are any representation of the mercs under their banner then I think I will be well pleased to be associated with them.”

Swallowing a final bite of sandwich, Rusia washed it down with a hearty gulp of chilled wine. She wasn’t used to having to draw people out in conversation. It was probably good for her, but she always found it difficult. She paused to offer Ishira a small bowl of fresh berries, which she accepted graciously. That proved to be rather distracting, however, when the enticing merc started slowly, delicately nibbling on the bright, red fruits while staring at her in what Rusia could only call a rather provocative look.

“Oh, uh. Sorry, what was I saying?” Rusia realized her wine goblet was empty when she went to take another gulp, but decided it was probably best not to refill it. “Ah, yes, you said your mother was ill and that is why you got into mercenary work? I assume that was some time ago. I hope that she is doing better now?”

She nods taking a small bite of the berries her eyes brightened from the sweet succulent taste.

“She is now but i found that i liked Merc work….im not tied down toany one faction its easier for me to move around” she said softly.

Ishira smiled that radiant smile her eyes meeting Rusia’s it was like a dance between them to see which would buckle under the pressure that would ignite the flames of passion.

“I also enjoy reading on my downtime….and im glad you decided to join….such beauty”

Rusia ducked her head, trying not to blush from the compliment, or from the intensity of Ishira’s gaze. She quickly seized on Ishira’s words, glad there was something else the two had in common besides mercenary work.

“I love to read. I’m trying to build a library here at the manor, but I find I have little time to collect books. Any time I can though, I will pick up a tome or a scroll to add. I find the histories of Tamriel and the stories of its many peoples fascinating.” Rusia paused to refill Ishira’s cup when the lovely merc held it out for more wine. “Although I admit I do love a roaring adventure story or… something a bit more romantic now and then.”

Rusia tried to smile at Ishira, hoping it didn’t come across more as a wacky grimace. “It’s funny though, you like being a merc because you like the freedom. Becoming one for me was more about finding a way to root myself to something. Well, with my old company at least. They were more like a second family. Very tight knit and always up in each other’s business,” Rusia chuckled softly with a slight edge of sadness. “I don’t know enough about the Mistveil mercs yet. I’ve only been out with a group of them once so far. They seem far more of a diverse and independent group of folks, like yourself.”

Her bowl empty of fruit, Ishira reached across Rusia’s leg to set it down on the blanket she’d laid out for their picnic. Her arm brushed gently across Rusia’s knee as she drew it back, sending a warm shiver up her spine. “Anyway, um, I would be happy to show you the library sometime, although again, it’s a bit bare still. You are always welcome to borrow anything you like.”

Still struggling with her anxiety over both trying to talk to someone she liked, and be at ease with her attraction to the beautiful merc, Rusia tried to relax and shake off her nerves. “You said you like to be able to move around, but do you have somewhere you call home?” Rusia gestured around here to the grounds of Hawke Manor. “I love to travel, and I enjoy the freedom to see the world, but I have a need to have somewhere I feel I can always go back to that I know will always be here. It helps keep me from feeling lost… sometimes. But perhaps you don’t need that?”

=Ishira smiled softly= “Im not selfis h if thats what you meant…ive just….i dont know i want to belong somewhere…unlike my sister i want to be grounded…freedom is nice but i want to share it eith someone” she said the intensity in her eyes great as she looked at Rusia.

“I have a collection if maybe you would like to come over one day…there is something about you…” She said softly caressing her cheek.

Rusia leaned into Ishira’s hand, pressing her cheek against the woman’s warm hand quite without even realizing she was doing it. She looked into Ishira’s piercing eyes, trying to convince herself not to pull away, but to lean in. There was nothing wrong with wanting to be close to someone. Not every person she allowed into her life was going to end up hurting her or leaving her alone. Even if they did, she would survive it. She had always survived it.

Nothing risked, nothing gained, Rusia thought as she tentatively shifted around and raised one hand to gently caress Ishira’s beautiful hair. Closing her eyes, she leaned forward, hoping Ishira would close the distance between them and anticipating the soft press of the merc’s lips on her own.

“Oh my! I do hope I haven’t interrupted anything my dears!” A sultry, almost sickeningly sweet voice invaded Rusia’s ears and immediately sent her scrambling backward away from Ishira. A dusky-skinned, Redguard beauty wearing nothing more than a thick drying cloth over one shoulder strolled around a tree and down the wooden dock by the pond. “I had just thought to come out for a swim on this warm afternoon. No idea you had another guest, my dear hostess!”

The ebony-haired, lusciously curved woman stopped in front of the tented platform where Rusia and Ishira had been moments away from…something. A deceptively innocent look on her face might have fooled many, but Rusia saw through it to the calculated cool underneath. “My pardon, of course. I can leave if you wish… Or perhaps…” the unashamedly naked bard looked over Ishira’s reclining form with languid eyes, “you might care to join me for a dip? The water looks so very refreshing.”

Rusia scrambled to her feet, knocking over her empty wine cup with a foot. “Ah, no, Sabine, ah, we were just about done with our lunch.” She turned to Ishira, her face flushing an embarrassed red, and helped the merc to her feet, squeezing her hand apologetically. “Let me escort you to the gate Ishira. I am sure you have places to be, things to do.”

Ishira eyed thecoffering bard giving her a cool gaze.

“Manners are an important thing it seems that your lacking in that…the only person i would want to take a refreshing dip with is Rusia…” She said coolly her eyes narrowed at the bard before her gaze returned to Rusia her eyes softening as she caressed her cheek.

Looking over her shoulder at Sabine as she walked Ishira down the dock, Rusia leveled a steely gaze at the slightly smirking bard. Sabine shrugged, dropping her towel, and dove into the pond with barely a splash. Oh yes, Rusia was definitely going to have to have a talk with Lagrobt about their new houseguest.

“I’m so sorry Ishira,” Rusia said as they arrived at the gate to the estate. “I, uh, obviously didn’t know she was going to be here. She’s a guest of my steward, and apparently has an issue with boundaries,” Rusia hissed a bit at the end of that obvious statement.

Feeling her walls creeping back up, she avoided looking into Ishira’s eyes as anxiety and the feeling of being overwhelmed crashed over her again. “Um, I have some things I have to take care of. Promises I’ve made I need to be keeping. But, ah, I will send you a message when I’m free.”

“How About my place….soon when your free yes? I look forward to it my dear” she said smiling to Rusia.

She hugged her goodbye and left, leaving a small rose as a gift for her.