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.
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 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.
Expect the Unexpected – Closed RP (Rusia Cassiana & Misto Thalos) Locations: House of Reprieve, Hawke Manor
Rusia wasn’t quite sure what had pushed her to visit the House of Reprieve, especially considering how much hearing beautiful music still hurt her soul and made her think of her lost father. Maybe it was the new lute she’d bought and tried to play, only to fail miserably and lock back up in a trunk out of sight. Some part of her wanted to reclaim her love of playing and singing, but it was a part buried deep beneath the sorrow of her parents’ murder so long ago.
If mother isn’t truly dead though… Could father also be alive? Rusia shakes her head hard to kill that torturous thought. She didn’t even really know if her mother actually had somehow faked her death, then sent a Daedric assassin to try to kill her own daughter a decade later. The truth is they probably are still both dead and that wicked creature lied just to taunt me for some reason.
Trying to clear her mind of all the misery and confusion swirling around, Rusia takes in the beautiful exterior of the bard’s college called the House of Reprieve. Had her life gone on the path it should have, she probably would have wanted very much to go to a place like this. But although she had loved playing several instruments, and had a passable singing voice, she never would have been skilled enough to actually become a bard. Not that her mother would have ever allowed that anyway.
They might have been minor nobility, but they’d been directly down the line from some Duchess or other in Burma. Cavorting about the countryside as a traveling bard might have been something Rusia daydreamed about, but her real life would have been a much more mundane path of marriage, children, and polite rounds of boring conversation with her ‘ladies’ over tea. Long ago, she might have even been happy with that life. Now, though, the very thought made her cringe.
Reaching the entrance to the House of Reprieve, Rusia gently pulls open the door and steps inside. She immediately hugs the wall to her back as she surveys the room full of colorfully dressed figures wandering about and gathered around a stage nearby. She had been a very outgoing and social child, but after her parents allegedly died, no one had stepped forward to claim her. Some distant relative had laid claim to her house, however, and every other bit of belongings and income her parents had left behind. She’d been unceremoniously dumped at an orphanage, never to see her home again.
Although the staff at the orphanage had been kind, it had been a place of training and discipline designed to turn out recruits for the mercenary company that served as its benefactors. Over time, Rusia had grown withdrawn in many ways. She was gregorious in battle, and often the first to strike a blow. Outside of combat, however, she preferred to stick to the companionship of only a very few close friends, and usually avoiding most social gatherings and parties.
Rusia understood in her head that her feelings of anxiety stemmed from a fear of doing something wrong, and somehow losing people she liked or loved yet again. Her twelve year old self still lived inside her, always believing somehow it was her fault her parents had been taken away. Her heart, though, didn’t like to listen to her head. So she was still filled with anxiety any time she tried to step out of her comfort zone to go to new places, or socialize with new people. No matter how much she told herself it was stupid.
“Mm! Ah! So many people!” An altmer woman reclining on a couch nearby exclaims a bit loudly, as though startled by those standing around her. “Indeed,” Rusia mutters under her breath as she slides slowly across the room toward a woman serving drinks at a bar. “So very many people.”
“Good evening Miss Selanwyn,” someone Rusia didn’t see replies to the altmer woman. Rusia guesses the sleepy altmer must be Dean Selanwyn Coreiel, who had signed the House of Reprieve open house flyer she’d seen at The Rosy Lion in Daggerfall.
“EVENING!” Dean Selanwyn proclaims even louder. “Oh, oh dear. My nap was only supposed to be a short one.”
Rusia leans on the bar and orders a glass of red wine. The woman behind the counter smiles at her as she passes her a cup, as though she can see how uncomfortable Rusia is. She tries to smile back but just ends up mumbling a slightly incoherent ‘thanks’ and retreating back to a dimly lit corner with her wine. She misses part of what Dean Selanwyn said next, but catches the tail end of her words.
“Everyone, please! Interact with each other and explore!” Dean Selanwyn gestures toward the crowd. “Just remember the House rule, no armor!”
Embarrassed, Rusia looks down at her armor, which at least was freshly cleaned and polished, and blushes not very prettily. She didn’t realize there was a dress code for the establishment. She must have missed that on the flyer that had prompted her visit.
“You may change into more suitable attire upstairs, in our student quarters, or down here, in our actor’s changing room,” the Dean continues. Another guest also in armor – thankfully she wasn’t the only one – speaks up to protest the dress code. “Hm, I’m afraid I have nothing else…”
“To this end, you may borrow our house costumes,” Dean Selanwyn says expansively, waving a hand toward the armored man, “but do be gentle”
Rusia doesn’t hear what the altmer woman or anyone else says after that as she puts down her goblet on the bar and heads for the door to leave. Not being comfortable with changing into borrowed clothing, she decides to retreat back to her manor, thinking it might be best to try this whole socializing thing another time.
Rusia swerves to avoid a fierce looking Dunmer elf coming toward her like he is about to speak and hurries outside as quickly as she can manage. Once she reaches the courtyard, Rusia swiftly invokes the teleport spell to her house.
Cursing as she arrives on the steps of Hawke Manor, Rusia berates herself for once again falling prey to her own inner anxieties. She contemplates going to sit by the pond and try to read herself into relaxing by candlelight, but just as she starts to take a step that way, Rusia feels the house wards ‘ping’ against her skin that someone else has arrived on the grounds.
“Now what,” she grumbles sullenly, putting one hand to the machete at her side. Rusia peers through the dim moonlight toward the entrance gate but it remains closed. She is pretty sure her steward, Lagrobt, is out for the evening, but the orc wouldn’t have set off the house wards anyway.
Keeping her blade ready, Rusia climbs the rest of the steps to the front entrance of the manor and slowly creaks open the door. Moving carefully inside, she sees a vaguely familiar figure standing near the entrance to the kitchen. From what she can determine in the dim light of a few lanterns Lagrobt had left on for her, they were not brandishing any weapons and were holding out their hands in a non-threatening sign of peace.
Rusia didn’t remove her hand from her weapon, but her gut tells her there was is immediate threat. She steps fully inside and lets the door close at her back. Whispering under her breath, she speaks the keyword to light the chandelier overhead so she can get a better look at her unexpected visitor.
“Um, hello? Can I help you?” Rusia says as she puts the foyer table and a chair between her and the mysterious guest. With the brighter light shining down, she recognizes the Dunmer elf who had gotten in her way as she was leaving the House of Reprieve. “Didn’t I just see you at the bard’s college?”
The elf raises his hands in a calming gesture. “Apologies, I didn’t mean to frighten you. And yes, you did.”
“Mmm, I’m not used to unexpected visitors,” Rusia said, tightening her grip on her machete. Especially ones that can just pop into her house through her wards with no trouble. “Is there a reason why you are following me?”
“Yes, actually,” the elf says, stepping toward her. Rusia sidles back and to the side instinctively, once again putting the table and chair between her and the intruder. “I saw you at the bard’s school, you didn’t look like you belong there,” the elf continues.
Rusia shakes her head sadly, releasing her blade to rest both hands on the back of the chair in front of her. “No, I suppose I didn’t look like I fit in at all.”
“You look more like a warrior to me,” the elf says inquisitively. He crosses his arms and waits to see how she will respond.
Sighing deeply, Rusia nods. “Uh, yes. Sorry. I’m afraid I’m not the best person for visitors. Please, um, take a seat if you like.” She follows her own suggestion, taking a seat in the chair she’d been formerly using as a shield, watching as the elf takes a seat across from her. “Yes, I’m a merc by trade. I was there for… personal reasons.”
The Elder Scrolls Online: Tamriel Unlimited_20190625143214
A loud meow from a nearby bench announces Hawke Manor’s resident cat has finally decided to acknowledge she is home and has a guest. Not that he cares about either of those things, besides thinking one of them might serve him dinner. “Not now Grimmy, I have company, I’ll feed you in a bit.” The large floofball makes an indignant sound, hops off the bench and wanders toward the kitchen in search of a snack.
The elf looks toward the cat with an odd expression, “Hmm, animal lover.” Turning again toward Rusia, he places his hands on the table and leans toward her to emphasize his next words. “Your business is yours, but I could use some help.” He exhales softly. “The Order wants to be all proper, but certain things need to be done now.”
Slumping back into her chair, Rusia lifts one eyebrow at the Dunmer. “I seem to be running into a lot of that lately. Helping people.” She cocks her head at the elf, deciding she will at least hear him through. After all, he’d already breached her house wards easily, so she strongly doubted she’d be able to toss him out unwillingly. “I’m Rusia, by the way, Rusia Cassiana, formerly of Bruma. And you are?”
The elf inclines his head at her, “Coldwater, and my home is long gone and forgotten.” Rusia thinks the elf means he is from Coldwater, not that he’s named that, but doesn’t get a chance to ask before the Dunmer continues. “But I’m not here about that,” he says, “I’m here about dragons.”
Well, that’s unexpected, Rusia thinks, although what else should one expect from an unexpected visitor? “Ah, dragons. I’ve heard rumors about these terrible creatures. But I’ve never visited the lands where they are supposed to be ravaging.”
Continuing to lean forward on the table, the elf speaks fervently. “There’s no suppose to it, they are in fact ravaging Elsweyr Northern to be exact, and all these nobles are sitting around doing nothing about it.”
The Dunmer slams his fist down on the table, making Rusia wince and nearly grab for her blade again. The elf sighs and leans back in his chair, placing his hands in his lap. “I apologize, that was rude of me.”
“I can’t say I approve of nobles doing nothing while the populace suffers,” Rusia tells the elf. “My family would not have stood by.”
No, she thinks, they would not have left the commoners to suffer alone. Her father would have brought everyone inside the walls of their estate to protect them, and her mother would have led the house guard and town soldiers to battle with sword and magic. Or, at least she thought they would have. She really didn’t even feel she knew her parents at all now after the revelation her mother might be alive and trying to kill her.
“Well anyways, the point is there is no pay,” the elf continues after a pause. “I’ve nothing to offer except a possible early death and there’s only so much I can do by myself.”
Rusia smiles wryly, thinking this has been one of the strangest weeks of her life and just getting stranger by the minute. “Something amusing?” the elf asks, a slightly dangerous edge to his voice.
“Frankly, that’s rather the story of my life lately I guess,” Rusia says, resting her head on her hands and studying the elf across the table. “Except the pay part, I usually do get paid. But at the moment, I owe someone a life debt and they won’t let me pay it to them,” she continues, raising one hand to touch a medallion etched with a bear paw at her neck. “So I need to pay it somewhere.”
“Oh? Whom do you owe it to?” the elf peers at her curiously. “A member of The Gray Legion, for saving my life recently. Their leader, Sindri.” Yes, that extremely generous, weathered Nord had gladly accepted her pledge to join and help his order, but he had refused to take on her life debt. He had simply wanted her to pass the kindness shown to her forward. Still, she felt she owed that life debt somewhere. Perhaps this might be a way she could pay it back, helping this stranger by putting her skin on the line.
“I see,” the elf said, considering her words. “I fear I don’t know them. But it matters little. All I truly care about is doing what I can without ruining the land and making things worse. Which is why I need steel. Magic and stealth alone won’t be enough.”
“Well,” Rusia says ruefully, “I can’t say I’d be much use against such fierce creatures as dragons. But it would certainly be an adventure to see one before it likely eats me.” If you are going to die a gory death, she thinks, at least you can tell people in the afterlife, if it exists, that you went down to a dragon and not some smelly merc or bandit dealing a lucky blow.
The Dunmer chuckles softly. “I can slow them down without tearing apart the fabric of nature, I just need someone to do the actual deed of killing them.”
“I don’t have a death wish,” Rusia says firmly.” “But I also don’t have much of a life either. I promised my father I would always try to help those in need.” She pauses, choking back the feeling of tears gathering in the corners of her eyes. “I haven’t been very good at that lately. Maybe now would be a good time to try to fulfill that promise better.”
Rusia clears her throat softly before continuing, “I suppose coming seconds from death and having a perfect stranger rescue you for no reason except their own kindness is a bit of a kick in the teeth to get my act together and try to do some good in this world.”
The elf stands up abruptly, almost as if he heard something Rusia doesn’t. “Good, I don’t desire death myself. I simply wish to make someone proud of me too. So when you’re ready, use this to get in touch with me.” He sets an odd palm size device on the table. “Just speak into it and I’ll hear you. As for now, I need to be off.”
Standing, Rusia nods at the elf. ”Very well…” But before she can finish her sentence, the Dunmer vanished in a swirl of floating lights.
“Damn,” Rusia says to the empty house, reaching for the device the elf had left on the table. “I still don’t even know his name…”
My Father’s Hands – Standalone Story (Rusia Cassiana) Location: Hawke Manor, Reaper’s March
I find it hard to remember my father’s face now, over a decade after his murder. His hands though, I remember those as if they were my own. Perhaps because mine remind me so much of his. The long fingers, strong yet oddly delicate, equally adept at song or sword. Yes, our hands were so much alike, my father’s and mine. As we had been alike in so many ways.
I missed him terribly.
Sighing softly, I set down the lute I’d bought in a marketplace on Betnikh. I’ve no idea how the orc trader had come across such a lovely, sweet instrument made for human hands. Whatever its origin, he hadn’t appreciated how fine quality it was, and had sold it to me for far too little. I’d tipped him an extra coin anyway, to appease Sai, the alleged old God of Luck for such a terrific find. Not that I was terribly superstitious, but it couldn’t hurt.
As beautiful as the lute was, I still had not been able to bring myself to try to play it. Not since my father died had I played an instrument. Even though I could still hear the music in my head, I could no longer feel it in my heart.
Being from a minor noble family, I’d been taught music and dance from the time I could toddle around. By the time I was twelve, I’d played several instruments, and started to develop a passable singing voice. After my father died, however, I just could never find the joy in music again. It had always been one of the special things the two of us shared. My mother had been much more interested in weapon training and magic study than playing the latest compositions from Cyrodiil.
Mother, oh mother, are you still alive after all? Did you not die next to your beloved, my father, as I have believed ever since that horrible morning? When my childhood ended forever, ripping me from my home and throwing my future to the winds. Did you really send someone to try to kill me, so many years after I thought you gone?
Shaking my head, I tried to clear my mind of the dark thoughts surrounding the recent assassin attempt that nearly took my life. Picking up the lute again, I laid the lovely instrument in my lap, forcing my right hand to pluck the strings while the left gently adjusted the tuning pegs. The quiet, nonsensical notes clenched my throat as I fought back tears.
Closing my eyes, I could see my father’s hands twisting the pegs on his own dear lute. He’d called it Mariaella after his aunt, who’d taught him to play so many years ago. I’d never met her unfortunately, as my father had said we would have gotten along famously. Tragically, all of his family had died in a terrible sickness while he was away studying at the University of Gylim. Where he’d met Sergianus, his best friend, my god father, and the assumed murderer of both my parents.
Damn it. This is why I don’t play. Every time I picked up a lute, or a flute, or sometimes even just hearing a bard singing in a tavern, I can’t get the picture of my parents’ beaten, bloody bodies out of my head.
Regretfully, I slowly loosened the tuning pegs just slightly on the lute again. Never put an instrument back in the case with full tension on the strings if you aren’t going to play it again soon, my father had always told me. But don’t loosen the strings too much. You have to keep the tension in the neck in balance.
Balance. Something I struggled with every day. Balance between past and present. Balance between warrior and healer. Balance between life and death.
Gently, I eased the lute back into its soft leather case. Rising to my feet, I turned and carefully placed the lute back inside a large storage trunk. Out of sight. Where it would not remind me every time I saw it of all that I had lost. My music. My family. My father’s hands.
Someday, perhaps, I could find the joy again. But not today.
Finding a New Light – Closed RP (Rusia Cassiana & Sindri Khan) Locations: Port Hunding, Stros M’Kai & The Gray Legion
A pool of crimson slowly spreads out from beneath Rusia’s body, pumping sluggishly out of the thin but deadly deep wound in her side left by her mother’s assassin. Blood rising in her throat from her punctured lung chokes off her breath, plunging her oxygen starved brain into a chaotic stew of nightmares and memories.
So this is death, she thinks, as images from her past twist and intertwine with visions of lost futures in the blackness of her unconscious mind. So many faces. The ones she has loved. The ones she has lost. The ones she has sent ahead of her to early deaths by her own hands. Above them all, behind every other ghost, she sees the shadowy figure of her mother’s face. The mother she had thought was dead and burned, murdered with her father by their best friend in a shocking betrayal that had left her a penniless orphan with a minor title and no family.
Perhaps the Daedra lied, was the nebulous thought she tries to hold onto. But then how had it known her mother’s name? Caecilia. The origin of the name meant ‘blind one’, but apparently it was she who had been blind. She’d been twelve when she’d found her beloved father and wonderful, kind mother dead in their bedroom early one morning. They’d been beaten and bloodied almost beyond recognition. But her hair, I knew that hair, Rusia thought as the images in her mind began to break apart and fade away into the darkness. My hair. Those auburn red, wild strands always wanting to curl. She’d buried her small hands in her mother’s long, wavy hair, weeping frantically, curling into a ball next to her dead parents.
She hadn’t noticed for several minutes the other person in the room until he’d made a soft sighing sound that startled her out of her grief. Her mother and father’s best friend, Sergianus, standing frozen in the shadows by the east window, staring at a bloody mace held across his palms. She’d screamed and fallen backward off the bed where her parents’ bodies lie soaked in their own blood. This seemed to break through whatever had been holding Sergianus locked in place, staring at the weapon that had murdered her parents. He’d looked up sharply, meeting her eyes with a look of pure and endless rage, and taken a step toward her. She’d screamed again, and heard the distant sound of multiple pairs of footsteps running up the manor stairs in response.
Cursing softly, Sergianus had tucked the mace into his belt and put one hand up to his lips in the gesture for silence. With a swirl of his cloak, he’d turned and jumped out the window at his back. She’d run to the window as one of the maids and a member of the house guard ran into the room, but by the time she’d stretched on her toes to look down, Sergianus had vanished. Three stories off the ground and he’d just disappeared, somehow teleporting away in mid air.
Rusia tried to hold on to the memory, to her anger and need for revenge against the man who had torn her life apart. But even that was drifting away now as she plunged closer and closer to death. She had so many questions still. Why had he done it? Was it true her mother really was alive? And if so, why did she want to kill her own daughter? And why did she have a pet Daedra assassin doing her dirty work? But none of those questions mattered now as the last spark of her life dimmed. All that was left was the dying.
……………….
Sindri is walking by the side of the Screaming Mermaid tavern in Port Hunding, Stros M’Kai. Suddenly, an enormous burst of light explodes from behind the tavern like nothing he’s ever seen before. Out of the light, a strange, blue-skinned creature comes running, half on fire. The question flashes through Sindri’s mind… Is that a Daedra???
Before he can even react, the creature pops out of existence. Unable to resist his curiosity, he runs behind the tavern where the light had now faded away. Scanning the darkness, Sindri spots a young woman in tarnished armor sprawled on the ground, not moving. He can see even in the dim light of the moon she is moments from death and needs immediate, serious healing.
This day had been just like any other for the stout Nord who somehow managed to go from land to land everyday. In the moonlight Sindri’s grey metallic armor and black leather straps gave off a strange, soothing glow.
Upon noticing the female he quickly ran to her side. With deep controlled breaths he remained calm before checking her over to make sure he could move her.
” C’mon lass. It ain’t gonna end here for you. ” The stout Nord said before touching his Pendant of Ursa, a portal opening beside them to The House of Gray.
Quickly and carefully Sindri picked the woman up, attempting to not harm her even further, with a fee steps they were through the portal and the warm air of Craglorn bore down upon them as they stood outside the grey brick home.
……………….
A sharp jolt of pain flashed red through the darkness, followed by the swirling sensation of movement. Rusia had given herself to the inevitability of death, but something was keeping her on the very edge of life. A light was growing between her and the blackness beyond. Part of her resented the intrusion. She longed for peace and an escape from the horrors of her past and the tortuous questions of her present.
But she had always been a fighter. She didn’t have it in her to stop now. She gripped onto the light and refused to let go.
Time was meaningless in the between place her mind lingered in. But slowly, she began to feel new sensations from her torn and abused body. A clean, soothing, wave of tingling warmth spread out over her, followed by the rush of sweet, cool air into her lungs. The sharp, overwhelming pain in her side diminished to a dull ache.
Rusia moaned softly and tried to open her eyes but the effort seemed impossible. The soft murmuring of voices floated by her. One in particular cut through the dimness.
“You’ll be alright lass,” the voice said gently. “You can rest now. Best thing for you. Get some sleep, it’ll help the healin’.”
The voice calmed her restless attempt to wake, and Rusia allowed herself to ease her grip on the light that now surrounded her, keeping the darkness back down in its place. With a quiet sigh, she drifted down into the gray cloud of comforting, safe sleep. Thankfully, without dreams.
A soft glow woke Rusia from a long, untroubled sleep. She still felt a bit drained, but otherwise well. A slightly odd tingling lingered just under her skin, which she recognized as a unique reaction to the aftereffects of healing magic. The pain in her side was gone.
Cracking open her eyes, Rusia found herself tucked into a comfortable bed, with the soft light of morning streaming in through a nearby window. She wasn’t sure if it was the morning after she had been attacked or days later. There was no way to tell the passage of time. Lifting off the blanket covering her, she sat up slowly, pivoting her legs over to rest her feet on the ground. Someone had removed her armor while was unconscious and stacked it nearby, clean and polished.
More than one night then probably, Rusia thought. If someone had time to go to the trouble of cleaning and fixing up my armor. This didn’t surprise her. She’d had powerful healing spells and potions on the field of battle that granted almost immediate recovery. But she’d never been this close to death before, and likely whomever had healed her hadn’t felt she needed to be on her feet immediately after.
Glancing down at herself, Russia found her body had been similarly scrubbed and dressed in a long, cozy nightgown. A little feminine for her taste, but she appreciated that at least they hadn’t left her in a strange place stark naked. Reaching one hand under the gown, she felt her left side where the dagger had pierced through almost to her heart. Nothing remained of the wound except a small, thin scar. Feeling it made her head spin with all the questions she now had battering away in her mind about what had happened, and why. Later, she thought, later I will have to think about my own mother allegedly trying to assassinate me, but not right now.
Her stomach suddenly reminding her loudly she probably had not eaten in quite some time, Rusia looked around for her clothes but didn’t see any sign of them. Considering the state she’d been in even before the attack, she wouldn’t be shocked if her rescuers had just decided to burn the whole lot. She thought briefly of just grabbing her armor and teleporting back home right then and there, but that would be incredibly rude to the person or persons who had no doubt saved her life.
Rusia decided since her rescuers had already seen her naked when they cleaned her up, they wouldn’t be too dismayed by her trying to find the kitchen of wherever she was in sleeping clothes. Just as she was about to rise and go on a quest to find something to fill her rioting stomach, she heard the door slowly start to creak open. Instinctively, she reached for the dagger usually hanging from her side, only to realize she had no idea where her weapons even were.
Standing quickly, Rusia put her hand on a pitcher of water resting next to the bed, the only thing within reach that might be used as a weapon. She didn’t think it probable that those who had saved her from death would try to kill her, but she’d just learned a very valuable lesson in being far more careful around strangers. Not that a water pitcher would likely be very helpful, but she had once killed a bandit with a large salmon after being caught skinny dipping in a stream.
I’m just constantly begging to get myself killed aren’t I, Rusia thought as she tightened her grip on the water pitcher. The door swung fully open to reveal a stalwart Nord man, built like a stone fort, and holding an incredibly welcome plate of bread, cheese, and fruit. Rusia couldn’t help it. She grinned, loosed the water pitcher, and sat back down on the bed as the man stepped forward and introduced himself.
……………….
” Hey lass, good to see you’re already up and ready to kick someone’s ass. ” The man said placing the platter beside the bed on the table.
” You’ve been out for a few days. Heard the floor boards Creek so I figured you woke up, you must be hungry. You had a pretty nasty wound. I took the liberty of cleaning your armor and weapons, repairing what I could, as for your clothing. The damned things were covered in so much blood I just threw em out, but don’t worry. I took measurements and went to town, I have some new clothes all fresh n’ ready for you from the tailor. ” Sindri said giving a kind smile.
For such a large imposing Nord he certainly was kind and very generous. His years of battle within the war had left their marks on his weathered face.
” Now I know what you might be wondering, who am I, why did I bring you here and what not. My name is Sindri Khan, and you were closer to death than an eighty year old guar. ”
……………….
Reaching greedily for a hunk of bread from the platter brought in by the Nord, Rusia let herself relax as much as she possibly could in the company of a stranger. This was certainly the most welcoming anyone had been to her in a very long time. The bread was fresh, soft on the inside, with just the right slightly crispy outside texture. She almost moaned aloud at how good it was. If she had a terrible weakness, it was well made fresh bread.
A polite cough interrupted her bread-induced revery and she swung her attention back to the battleworn Nord. “Thank you, ah, Sindri. I am honestly shocked to be alive. You have my abject gratitude for saving my life.”
Rusia tried not to blush over devouring the bread like an animal in front of her rescuer. “Uh, and thank you very kindly for the food. Obviously, I am indeed famished.” She eyed the rest of the food on the platter longingly but getting the answers to a few questions would be more fulfilling at the moment than putting more food in her grumpy belly.
Glancing over at her neatly stacked armor, Rusia smiled shyly at the Nord. “I also owe you a thanks for taking care of my things. I’m afraid I’ve been, um, how do you say… Out of sorts lately and a bit of a mess..” Her smile faded and a dark shadow passed over her face. “Which is partly why I ended up nearly bleeding out behind a tavern I guess.”
Shaking her head to put the assassination attempt out of her head for the moment, Rusia looked the Nord steadily in the eyes to emphasize her next words. “As I said, I’m eternally grateful for the rescue, and I firmly believe in repaying my debts. In this case, that’s a life debt. So you can consider my sword yours to command as you might need sir. Although yes, I would be quite curious who exactly I’d be giving that pledge to, and yes, where exactly we might be.”
……………….
” Aye lass, eat all you want. We have enough food. ” Sindri said to her, giving a kind smile. His eyes focused on her own.
Slowly he sat down on a chair across from her. He stroked his beard slowly before speaking.
” Currently you’re in The Gray House. The main base of The Gray Legion, we work to aid the refugees of this futile war. I was a soldier within The Pact, I’ve sent the bloody sides of it all. And I just want to help those who cannot help themselves. “
Sindri spoke as if The Gray Legion was his pride and joy. His eyes sparkling with excitement at the mention of it.
” But you do not owe me anything, I do not hold things against people. You are free to leave or to stay. It is purely your choice. ”
……………….
“… And that’s how I ended up joining this Gray Legion,” Rusia told her steward. “I swear, Lagrobt, I can’t even keep track of all the madness that’s happened in the last week. “First the attack, then being rescued by this Sindri person, joining the Gray Legion, then joining these Mistvel Mercenaries, and then that debacle at the House of R? Bard’s College last night.”
Leaning back in her chair, Rusia inhaled the deep, rich scent of a coming storm through the open sides of her manor’s main watchtower. She loved to be up here whenever she could. It was just so open, and so quiet, but still protected from the worst of the weather even when it did get nasty. She’d stay here all night if she could, but there was just so much to do. She sighed deeply, dropping her head into her hands.
“Sounds like you are in need of something stronger than that tea you’re drinking honey,” Lagrobt said, rising to grab a bottle of fine brandy sitting on a sideboard near the table. He poured a generous portion into her half empty mug and sat the bottle down next to her. Taking his seat again across from her at the table, he pushed a plate of ginger cookies, Rusia’s favorite, closer to nervously restless hands.
“Stop fretting and eat, you’re too skinny.” He frowned at her, wiggling his eyebrows and making his classic ‘terrible orc face’ until she finally picked up a cookie. He kept making it until she ate half of it and finally cracked a small grin around the rest of the treat in her mouth.
“Lagrobt gro-Nolob you are going to make me choke doing that!” Rusia said after she swallowed the last sweet bite. Waving her crumb covered finger at his face, she downed a large gulp of brandy and leftover tea to clear her throat. “Anyway, sorry I haven’t been around very much! Hope all has been well on the home front.”
“So you told me all about this terrible attack — I can’t really believe you dead mother is involved! — and being rescued by this Sindri from The Gray Legion, but you also joined a new merc guild and for some reason tortured yourself by going to a Bard’s College for… you don’t even know why?” Lagrobt paused dramatically and leaned toward Rusia across the table. “And you say someone followed you back here and breached your wards and invaded our house all uninvited?”
Rusia grabbed another ginger cookie and slowly nibbled on it, making Lagrobt wrinkle his prominent nose at her to continue. He never could resist a story and he hated to wait, so she delayed as long as possible in contuining until he looked just about ready to murder her.
“Well,” she said with another grin. “That’s just a whole other story now isn’t it?”
Lost Hawke – Character Intro (Rusia Cassiana) Imperial, DragonKnight, Daggerfall Covenant Current Location: Port Hunding, Stros M’Kai
“I used to be a Templar,” she mumbled soggily into her cup, waving vaguely at the barkeep for another dose of Old Clear-Eye Whiskey; the most oxymoronic name for a liquor ever created. “But that was before…”
Razzaq, the Redguard chef roped into bartending duties that evening, pointedly ignored both her mumbling and her request for another drink. He had a firm policy about how drunk strange women with swords were allowed to get in his establishment and she’d definitely reached that limit. Especially considering this one looked rough even before she started downing liquor. Her blue & silver armor might have once been expensive & possibly even of Noble origin, but now it was a filthy, dented, gashed up mess. He didn’t want to know where all those dark, russet colored stains came from.
Pushing a greasy strand of bright, auburn hair out of her face, the woman dropped her forehead onto the bar with a long sigh. Razzaq winced as her dirty skin came in contact with his freshly wiped counter. She might have been pretty, the degenerate, if she’d been clean. Not beautiful, but tall & willowy, with a face some might call strong, or handsome, or even striking in the right light, if one was being generous. Right now he wouldn’t touch her with a 10 foot pike, even if he wasn’t of an entirely different persuasion anyway.
Groaning slightly, the woman crossed one arm over her face, trying to block out the flickering candlelight hurting her eyes, while continuing to mumble out loud to no one in particular. “That was before they all left me. All gone now. All gone.”
A rustling beside her made the woman instinctively drop her arm and slide her hand down to the pommel of a wickedly curved machete hanging at her side. Her dulled blue-green eyes attempted to focus on the stranger who now occupied the dingy, red velour covered chair next to her, but they weren’t behaving very well. She thought she glimpsed a brief smile coming from the darkness of their hooded face before they turned to order a cup of mulled wine, but everything was a bit too blurry to be sure. Encased in a voluminous dark gray robe, she couldn’t even tell if it was a man or a woman, although from their shorter stature & general shape, she guessed it was likely either a short human female or maybe a Bosmer. Not that she particularly cared at the moment. She would rather they just go away, whomever they were.
Razzaq dropped a goblet in front of the stranger within seconds, while continuing to offensively ignore her weak hand gestures for more whiskey. Giving up on getting another drink, the woman considered just attempting to work a teleportation spell and try to get home without accidentally teleporting to the wrong destination again, and waking up the next morning in bed with a Seadrake. The thought seemed like a more difficult quest at the moment than taking on one of those massive dragons rumored to be terrorizing the Khajiit homeland of Elsweyr. Solo. While armed with a broom and a chamber pot. The floor was starting to look like a reasonable alternative destination.
“A Templar you say?” A strong and slightly amused voice prodded her from the brink of passing out right there in the middle of the Screaming Mermaid and embarrassing herself even more than she already was. “You certainly don’t look like a Templar now.”
A flush of anger roared into the woman’s ears as she snapped upright again, nearly falling off her stool as a wave of dizziness spun through her head. She faced the stranger, blinking rapidly while attempting to focus on their mostly hidden features. “How dare you! I’ll have you know I wasn’t just a Templar, I was the chosen Templar of…”
The woman’s mouth snapped shut suddenly and a brief look of clarity passed over her eyes. “Nevermind. You wouldn’t understand and I really don’t care what you think.” She laid her head back down sideways on the bar, her check pressed into the cool wood next to her mournfully still empty cup. “It doesn’t matter anyway. I’m not a Templar anymore.”
The voice was softer this time, more soothing. “I’ve never met an ex-Templar before. I thought that was kind of a lifetime sort of thing, no?”
Her words slurred both by alcohol and half her face being flattened against the bar, the woman sighed, “I suppose yes that is how it is supposed to be. But I couldn’t do it anymore after… After I lost them all. I just couldn’t anymore. How can you be a healer when you couldn’t save the people you love? How can you be a leader of light when you can’t even keep your own family together?”
The stranger’s eyes sharpened slightly as they leaned in. “Your family? Poor dear, what happened to them?”
A wall that had been eroded by drink and exhaustion crumbled a little in the face of the stranger’s seemingly kind attempt to engage her. The woman drew herself upright again, pushing her shoulders back and steadying herself against the bar with one hand, while the other shot up to touch a small medallion hanging around her neck. A light rose within her eyes, making them almost glow with an unnatural and slightly disturbing shine.
“They were the Band of the Hawk. They saved me. They rescued me after my parents were killed. You never knew a more noble group of people, even if they were mercenaries. They took me in as an orphan, as they did many other orphans of war. They raised me and trained me, gave me a purpose and a family to replace the one I had lost.” Her shoulders slumped, and she fell forward again, resting her head in her hands. “And then they left me. They left me alone with no one.”
Leaning even closer, so close they could have rested an easy hand on her shoulder, but didn’t, the stranger crooned gently to her. “Oh that sounds terrible dear. I’m so sorry.” They paused to slowly push their goblet of wine over in front of her empty cup. “Please have this, I am not really very thirsty.”
The woman grabbed the wine eagerly and downed half of it in one long gulp as the stranger continued to offer their condolences. “How terrible for a young woman to lose two families in such a short lifetime. Although, haven’t I heard of the Band of the Hawk?”
Touching her medallion again, the young woman took another long drink of the stranger’s wine. “Maybe. There are some out there riding under that name, I think. They may call themselves that, but I don’t know them. They are not my people. They are not my family. All of them are gone.” Raising her eyes to the ceiling as if she is striving to somehow connect again to the spirit that once drove her as a Templar, the woman braced herself against the bar with both hands as she continued.
“I looked for them. To try to find those that vanished. To see if any had survived after the orphanage & our home base of Whitehawke in Stormhaven was leveled by the daedra. But it was if they had never existed except for me… And the bodies of those who didn’t make it. I looked for a long time for anyone else who might be left. Then I put down the mantle of a Templar and went to study with the Dragonknights.”
She looked down at the stranger once again. “After all, if I couldn’t save the ones who died in my arms, and I couldn’t find any of those who had vanished, what good was I as a Templar? How can you be a Templar anymore if you’ve lost your faith?” The woman’s hand strayed back to the hilt of the razor sharp & impeccably clean machete by her side again. “Turns out I’m a much better killer than healer I guess.”
Shifting on their chair again, the stranger moved in so close their knees were pushing into hers like a pair of lovers. “Yes, yes. You’ve always been a killer, haven’t you Rusia?” the stranger whispered under the noise of the tavern’s loud, drunken patrons. “Rusia Cassiana isn’t it? Originally of Bruma?”
Rusia jerked backwards from the stranger at hearing her name slide out of their mouth, but they grabbed her arm and pulled her back close again so hard she nearly lost her whiskey & wine filled stomach at the jolt. Her machete trapped between her leg and the stranger’s, she tried to reach for the dagger tucked into a sheathe on the other side of her sword belt. With a hiss, the stranger grabbed both her wrists and yanked her in even closer.
Weak from too much liquor and too little rest, Rusia struggled against the surprisingly strong grip of the diminutive stranger. They held her tight though, and after they whispered a few words she didn’t understand, she found herself slumping helplessly against them. Her befuddled mind tried to open her mouth and yell out for help, but she couldn’t even grunt in protest of the stranger hauling her upward off her chair. Somehow they had rendered her nothing more than a limp doll they could drag around at their leisure, despite the protections against magic she had imbued in her armor. All of it happened so fast, she still couldn’t even process what was going on.
The stranger held her up with one arm around her waist while they threw some coins on the counter for their drinks. “Apologies for my friend here, I’m afraid she’s rather a sloppy drunk. I’ll make sure she gets home before she ends up taking a nosedive under one of your tables and you have to call the Watch to be rid of her.”
Razzaq looked at both of them with a suspicious furrow between his brows, but grabbed the coins and nodded as the stranger turned to guide me through the crowd & out the tavern door. Anyone who might have witnessed the entire encounter likely would have just thought they saw two lovers have a brief moment of quarrel before the sober one decided to drag the drunk one away. The stranger had orchestrated the whole thing very carefully. Rusia should have known much better than to allow herself to get so trashed outside the safety of her heavily warded home.
Home, she thought to herself groggily as the stranger bumped her though the door of the tavern, down the stairs and around the right side of the building. Not really home. Just a house. A house on the Strid River in Reaper’s March she’d bought & decorated with what was left of the Band of the Hawk’s emergency stash. She’d hoped at first she might find other survivors of her mercenary family to fill the empty rooms. She never had. Now it was just an echoing reminder of all she’d lost. And yet she had never been able to let it go. Well, she contemplated as the stranger moved her off the main street and down into a dark alley, no use worrying about it now because she was probably never going to see it again anyway.
Pushed and pulled by the stranger, her will quashed by the stranger’s magic, Rusia was dragged through a stand of palm trees and around to the unlit rear of the tavern. Finally, the stranger stopped, one hand propping her up by the chest against the back outside wall of the Screaming Mermaid. She noticed the body of a freshly killed wolf lying nearby. Soon she would be nothing more than it was, an empty, rotting bag of meat. A random and sad place to die, she thought. Not in battle or in your own bed, but in the piss smeling, rat crawling back alley of some nowhere town. One more time she struggled to free herself from the compulsion laid on her, to understand how and why she’d ended up here. As the Stranger pulled a long, incredibly thin glass dagger from under their cloak, she managed to croak out one word through dry lips.
“Who?”
She couldn’t really see it in the darkness behind the tavern, but Rusia almost felt the stranger smile again as they stepped forward to press their body against hers. Even that close, she still couldn’t tell if they were male, or female, or anything other than human shaped and about a foot shorter than she was. The stranger looked up at her, their eyes glinting with a strange reddish tint out of the darkness of their shadowed face.
“Oh dear Rusia, it has been my honor to track you, to follow you, to wait for you to fall to your own weakness. So easy it was to slip a catalyst into the wine that would allow my spell to work against you from the inside out when you thought your magicked armor would keep you safe. A bit disappointing though that the end of my chase was so anticlimactic. Ah well. But you didn’t ask about any of that did you? No, you asked the most important question. Who?”
The stranger pressed the tip of their dagger against her side, just at the seam in the side where the thin blade could slip between the two joined halves of her armor. Just in line with her heart. At least it would be quick, or so she thought. Gently wiggling the blade to pass through the armor seam, padding, and shirt underneath, the Stranger pressed the dagger against her skin so softly it felt only like the tiny pinprick of an ant at first.
“My name, dear girl, is unimportant. And I was not told it was yours to know before you die. There is another name, however, I was told to make sure you hear before the last breath passes from your lips.”
All Rusia could manage was a soft gasp as the stranger slid the paper thin dagger ever so gently through her skin and muscle, maneuvering it perfectly between her ribs like a hot knife through butter. Then she choked as the blade punctured her left lung and moved inward. She swore she could feel it now hovering a hair’s width from her rapidly fluttering heart. All the fog in her mind from drink and lack of sleep had melted away, leaving her with a painful clarity in the last moments of her life.
The stranger paused in their glacial execution, rising on their toes to whisper into her ear. “Please accept regards from your mother. Caecilia said to give you her love.”
Shock coursed through her body as Rusia heard her mother’s name. The mother she thought had died alongside her father in a murderous betrayal by their best friend when she was only twelve. She felt the stranger tense to drive the dagger into her heart at last, and sent up a last desperate arrow of sorrow in her mind to the God she had abandoned when she turned away from being a Templar.
I’m sorry. I’m sorry I lost my faith. I’m sorry I couldn’t save them. I’m sorry for whatever I did that turned my own lost mother into my murderer. Please take me back into your light as I pass beyond. Please let me find peace.
Rusia shut her eyes and waited for the final strike as blood rose up from her pierced lung and cut off her air.
Then everything exploded.
The most brilliant light flared outside of her closed eyelids and some incredible force shoved Rusia sideways away from the glass dagger embedded in her body. She fell, hard, onto the reeking pavement as the light flashed over her and the stranger, who had been thrown in the opposite direction.
As the harsh glow faded, Rusia opened her eyes one final time to see the stranger struggle to rise from the ground, their hood askew, a look of abject terror on their newly revealed features. Not a short female or a small Bosmer male at all but a stunted, blue-skinned Xivilia. It must have been wearing an illusion to keep her and others from realizing what it was, even with the concealing cloak and hood.
Her mother had sent a daedra to murder her.
Rusia’s eyes fluttered closed again as the Stranger hissed loudly at something behind her, turned, and ran out of the alley like it was on fire. Which, she thought as the world faded to black, it actually might have been. A smile ghosted her lips as the darkness descended.
Shadow and Song by Epicene Blue 