razaks-wheel

[razaks-wheel]

@sasslett Hi and thank you! I picked the drabble option and wrote a little thing about learning to love your old self. :) (prompt source)

---

"Foolish" was what she called it looking back, when she was around fifteen. In the face of the Red Year, a seven-year-old with a children's alchemy set could not have made any meaningful contributions with her watery, chunky health potions, she thought. The adults in Dreveni's life never made such claims, though. No, her mother, her great-grandmother, even Vivec regarded her potions with the same gravity as the Temple healers' skills. And two, five, ten decades later, Dreveni came to agree that her teenage self was the foolish one. She had a child's unwavering compassion. How could she disparage that?

[razaks-wheel]

[Talvini needs to fulfill a Daedric contract, which is totally chill and has never caused problems before.]

---

"I was thinking of taking a...pilgrimage, if you will. A sabbatical. To the Telvanni Peninsula," Talvini said over dinner.

"Is that so?" Milia asked with a raised eyebrow. She knew her partner well enough to know there was more to it that Talvini was just waiting to share. "What sort of pilgrimage-sabbatical?"

"Oh, you know. Check out the libraries on the peninsula, see my ancestors in Necrom, investigate the whispers that might be related to a Daedric contract I got myself roped into that deals with the fate of the world, that sort of thing."

Milia set her fork down and opened her mouth to protest.

"It's fine, though, really!" Talvini said before her partner could say anything. "It's not going to be a repeat of the Clavicus Vile thing. The Three trust us, right? When the world is at stake, we're allowed to go around doctrine by a little bit. I know that now." With the right words, she might even be able to convince herself.

With a sigh, Milia found her fork again, though it did not make its way back to her plate quite yet. "Well, it's not one of the Good Daedra or you would have led with that. Bad, then? Or neither?"

"Neither." She watched Milia begin to relax, almost reaching for a bite of food, and decided it was best to drop the identity before she could get too complacent. "It's Hermaeus Mora."

The fork went back down, and her shoulders rose and fell in a deep breath. "I'm sure I don't need to tell you why this is a bad idea, right?"

"I've...dealt with Daedra before."

"You're avoiding the question. You're a mage. He preys on mages."

"Which is why I'm going in knowing that I need to be careful. You know I'm not that reckless, as mages go. I have a good Tribunal education on top of my magical one. I know not to give into the temptations, no matter how much knowledge he offers. Plus," she reached out and took Milia's former fork-hand, "I might just have my Buoyant Armiger girlfriend there to help me if I get in over my head. I bet Vivec would approve you for a field mission."

---

"Your field mission has been approved!" Vivec said, completely unprompted, when Milia arrived at the temple the following day.

"Of course you knew about it," she mumbled.

"Of course I knew about it!" Vivec agreed happily.

"And you really trust Hermaeus Mora not to try to pull in a Telvanni mage?"

"No. I trust the protections my companions and I have over Morrowind, I trust Seht's Coldharbour Compact of which Hermaeus Mora is a part, and I trust the two of you." Still, hir usually confident smile faded somewhat, and ze leaned in and said in a quieter voice, "Just keep an eye on Talvini. I know that she knows not to give into Mora, but she doesn't know that. She's more afraid than she lets on. She needs you for more than just a jaunt to the tombs, romantic as that may be."

Milia nodded pensively. She didn't really need to be told, but it did help to have it laid out so concretely. "I will, muthsera."

"Good!" ze proclaimed, snapping back to hir usual jovial tones. "Enjoy your time in Necrom!"

[razaks-wheel]

[Velsa thinks Milia was hired by the Arendis family.]

---

Mivynea, Come to my garden as soon as you can. I need to talk to you.

The note was pinned to a post in the Thieves' Den and, to Milia's surprise and worry, was signed with a Daedric vehk.

Why is Vivec using my Thieves Guild alias? she wondered. And why is ze pulling me out of this assignment so suddenly? ...And when did ze get a garden?

But the confusion left just as quickly as it came, as she remembered that her Dunmeri colleague's name also started with a vehk.

So Velsa wanted to see her. Odd. She didn't seem like the type to spend more time with her colleagues than necessary. This must be important.

Milia carefully made her way to the garden, as she was told, hopping down from a neighboring roof. Velsa was nowhere to be seen at first glance, but there was a presence behind her. Her initial brush with death a few years ago had encouraged her to learn how not to get bonked on the head by unseen assailants, and so she sidestepped the blow, grabbing the...Dwemer rod, apparently...and tugging it free of Velsa's hands.

"Strange way to show hospitality to an invited guest," she said. "Aren't you an alchemist? Couldn't you have just offered me poisoned tea?"

"Please, that would have been obvious."

"Unlike your current methods, I suppose?"

Velsa glowered.

"Okay, clearly you see me as some sort of threat," Milia said. "I'm here on your turf, on your terms. Is that not enough? I'll even disarm myself." She tossed her weapons and the Dwemer rod on the ground in front of her. Velsa was more bark than bite. She was fairly confident she could handle herself against her if it came to it.

"You have magic," Velsa said.

"And you have my word that I won't use it against you unless you make me. Now, can you tell me why I'm here?"

Velsa sighed and motioned her to a table.

"Who do you work for, Mivynea?"

"I work for Zeira," she said nonchalantly, taking the seat across from her host.

No suspicion on the concealed identity front, then—or at least the name. That was good.

"Spare me," Velsa snapped. "A mysterious Dunmer with a glass staff and a Morrowind accent shows up, hardly showing her face, whose skills in stealth frankly leave a lot to be desired, and days later someone slips this letter in my pocket, and you expect me to believe you're not sent from House Dres? What do you want? To spy on me? To kill me?"

Milia ignored the barb. Of course her skills in stealth were lacking—that was why Vivec had sent her to train.

"May I see that letter?" she asked.

Velsa handed over the letter slowly, her eyes tracing Milia's every move. Milia tried to ignore the piercing gaze as she scanned the letter. It was a brief well-wish written in Cyrodilic. There was some strange residue on it, but she could ask about that later. She wondered what about it was so frightening to Velsa.

"First of all, Velsa, you're reaching," she said, softening her voice now. "Dres is a mainland house. I have a Western Vvardenfell accent. In fact, I am an upstanding member of House Redoran. I dislike House Dres as much as you seem to think they dislike you."

Velsa kept scanning her face as if searching for the lie, though none was to be found.

"In that case," she said after a long moment, "what brings House Redoran's most average thief all the way to the Guild?"

Milia smiled under her mask. She was starting to see why so many of her colleagues—thieves and Armigers alike—liked when they had a chance to engage in subterfuge. The reveal was exciting.

"Well, I suppose there's no harm in telling you," she said dramatically. "Assuming you can keep a secret, that is."

Velsa rolled her eyes. "I'm not in the habit of gossipping with guildmates."

She leaned in close and whispered, "My patron sent me to train my thieving skills with some of Tamriel's best."

Velsa raised an eyebrow, poorly feigning disinterest. "Your patron?"

Milia inclined her head pointedly toward her glass staff on the ground. "The Thief hirself."

Velsa's eyes widened. "You're a Buoyant Armiger?"

"I am," Milia said. "And in addition to training my skills, I suspect I'm also here to help you deal with this Dres issue. What else can you tell me about it?"

When Velsa had given Milia all the information she needed to pursue the half-naked Nord, Milia picked up her weapons and made to leave. She hopped up on the wall overlooking the garden, then paused and turned partway back to face Velsa.

"Oh, one last thing." She cupped a hand to her masked mouth and loudly whispered, "My name's not really Mivynea."

[razaks-wheel]

What an odd looking Telvanni tower, Ildari thought as Tel Vos came into view.

At first, she wasn’t sure if she was even heading in the right direction. It looked more like an Imperial outpost. But no, as it grew closer, she could see that it also had the distinctive mycological touch unique to Telvanni architecture. She cast her levitation spell, a spell that she had learned so early in life and yet used so rarely growing up in the Imperial City, and was now able to use more freely than ever before. The thrill of watching the ground fall away beneath her swept away most of her nervousness as she ascended to the tower’s entrance.

The tower’s wizard, Master Aryon, looked at her curiously until she introduced herself as Ildari Melas, and his eyes lit up in recognition. She wondered how much of that recognition was from the present task, or from her recent reintroduction to House Telvanni—this mage was, coincidentally, the one people had suggested that she consider seeking out as a patron for her studies. She assumed it was a mix. Either way, he took the package she had been instructed to deliver to Cosades and set about decoding it.

“Strange,” he said after a few minutes of work. “Normally the Imperials use the carrier’s name for these codes. This should be trivial to crack. Did they change ciphers…?”

He seemed to be speaking mostly to himself, but Ildari responded anyway.

“Try Llothri instead of Melas. That’s another name the Imperials might have used.”

“Llothri…yes, that might work.” He returned his attention to his work for a brief moment, but then paused and looked back up at her with the same curiosity as before. “Any relation to Talvini Llothri?”

“I’m not actually sure, serjo,” she said. “I don’t know my family very well, other than that I have some Telvanni ancestry. So if she’s from the House, then it’s possible.”

“She’s a Master rank in the House, as it happens.” His gaze fell back on the coded package as he spoke. “Has a tower over by, uh”—he waved a hand without looking up—“somewhere in the Bay. One of those cloaked towers. She’s not the type to get too involved in the outside world these days.”

He put his quill down, scanned his decoded copy quickly, and then slipped it into his robe pocket with just enough interest on his face to make Ildari even more curious than she had been.

“Come to think of it, I don’t even know if Serjo Llothri’s still alive,” he continued as though there had been no pause. “She must be around a thousand. Last I heard about her was probably ten or so years ago, when rumors say she got into a screaming match with the Tribunal after they got her wife killed on some Buoyant Armiger mission.” He chuckled. “She’s got guts, that much I know. I doubt she’d let anything kill her, least of all age.”

“She sounds…interesting.”

“Where’d you get the name Melas, then?”

As much as Ildari wished for the conversation to return to what was in the letter, she had a feeling that it was for the best to play along.

“From my mother—my adopted mother—Faryn Melas. A friend of my birth parents. They were…well, they died when I was a baby.”

Aryon’s eyes narrowed in even more interest for just a moment, but rather than explain, he said, “I’m sorry to hear that. I think Faryn Melas studied under Llothri back in the day; I remember reading some papers they co-authored. She probably is your ancestor.” He paused, his hand floating toward the letter in his pocket, and then added, "Don’t go seeking her out, though. She likes her seclusion and all that. I’m sure she’ll come to you if she wants to connect.

“That said, you might want to consider using the name Llothri, at least when it comes to House affairs. It carries more weight than Melas. And on that note, Ildari Melas-or-Llothri, I hear you’re looking for a patron.”

[razaks-wheel]

A child entered the palace, prayer book in hand, followed closely by a priest. Having been raised in the Temple for all eight years of their life thus far, they had met with Vivec plenty of times before. This time, however, was special. It was the first time they had come to make an offering of their own.

Vivec welcomed them with a smile and floated downward so that ze was just taller than the child. The child walked up to their god and knelt, just as the priest had instructed them, and opened their prayer book to the bookmarked page.

"Blessed are we who serve ALMSIVI," the child said. That was a phrase they knew without reading, though they kept the book open in preparation for the next parts.

"Rise, friend," Vivec said.

The child stood and turned their attention back to the page.

"I bring you an offering," they read. "Please accept the gender that was given to me at birth. I have no more use for it, and we Tribunal faithful know that you will find value in it and cherish it."

They skipped the next line, the one about having a new gender now. The priest had said that was okay to leave out if they wanted.

"Please also accept the name that was given to me at birth. I have kept it close for"—they filled in the blank—"eight years, but now I will be known by another."

They hesitated. The book didn't say anything about how to actually give Vivec these things they were offering. How could they give a gender? Or a name? They glanced to the priest, who simply nodded encouragingly. They knew she could not read their mind, and therefore could not answer their sudden, unexpected question.

Determined to do this right, they reached toward their chest and pulled out some invisible object, and then held it out for Vivec to take.

If this was the wrong thing to do, Vivec made no indication. Ze reached out and took the object from the child's hand with a grateful nod.

"By what name will we know you now?" ze asked.

The child lowered the prayer book and closed their eyes. They would do this part from memory.

"I will now be known as Adyn."

They opened their eyes to see Vivec beaming.

"Thank you for these wonderful offerings, Adyn," ze said. "I will treasure them unendingly and ensure that they burden you no longer."

[razaks-wheel]

Snippet from a way-future chapter of Journeyed Far

[After Ildari learns that she’s pregnant and is deciding what to do, she and Sotha Sil go to the Cavern of the Incarnate to ask Azura about her future plans for Ildari. (They don’t expect it to go well.)]

The Valley of the Wind was, predictably, windy. Combined with the cool dawn air, Iya huddled closer to Seht for warmth, wishing she had worn something with sleeves. It was also nice to finally have a friend close by at this place that was so entwined with her destiny, where she normally became keenly aware of how alone she was. Seht seemed to detect this—or at least that she was cold—and wrapped an arm around her.

“How are we going to do this?” she asked at the door. “I doubt you’re planning on kneeling?”

“I am not, but I would sit next to you if you choose to.”

“That works,” she said. “I’ll do most of the talking?”

Seht nodded. “I will follow your lead.”

The Cavern was quiet on the inside, save for the faint, wispy hum of ancestor spirits at the edge of her consciousness. Ildari let the gravity of the place fill her like she always did as they approached the shrine. She knelt; Seht sat down beside her. After taking a few moments to center herself, Ildari spoke in a quiet voice.

“My Prince, I have come to seek your counsel. As I am sure you are aware, I am pregnant, and in order to determine how to proceed, I need to consider what my future holds. Of course, my future is in your hands, and so I would ask you two questions: Do I have more prophecies to fulfill? And, how much longer can I expect to stay in this time?”

Before Azura could even respond, Ildari felt her rage rip through the ancestors and burrow into her chest. “That you would bring that usurper to defile this holy place is bad enough, but you would dare carry his child?” the Prince’s voice rang through the chamber.

“I would. Sotha Sil is my friend, and the revival of his House—a House that once served you before they were all killed by Mehrunes Dagon—would honor his ancestors.”

“You insult me by even entertaining the thought,” Azura said. “Rest assured that your prophecies are in your past. If you would disrespect me so blatantly, then I have no further use for you, nor for your profane spawn.”

Ildari let that hang in the air for a long time while she sat, choosing her next words carefully.

“My Prince, I recognize that we may not agree on everything, but I have served you loyally for four millennia.” She stood up and turned her gaze on the statue’s face, trying to keep herself from shaking while her heart pounded in her chest. “Know this, however: if you so much as look at my child wrong, I will see you disgraced in the eyes of the Dunmer again in my time. Do not doubt that I have that power.”

A chill settled over the chamber, and she stood there in silence, joined now by Seht who had also risen to his feet at some point while she was talking. The silence dragged on long enough for Ildari to begin to wonder whether that was the end of it, but Azura finally spoke once more.

“Five years, and then you will return to the Fourth Era. That is the generous reward I offer you for your loyal service.” The vitriol in her voice was almost palpable. “Do not expect to hear from me again, mortal.”

The energy coming off the shrine vanished suddenly, leaving only a stone statue devoid of divine presence. The shift was so jarring that Ildari felt like the breath had been ripped from her lungs. Even the ancestors felt quieter.

“Are you ready to go?” Seht asked carefully.

[razaks-wheel]

@nostalgic-breton-girl​ Hi thank you! :D

(Prompt source)

---

Tilora hummed along with the music box she had wound up and let play as she undid her hair before bed.

"Do you dance?" she asked her girlfriend with a glance over her shoulder.

"Not...typically," Llevura said. She, too, had taken her hair out of its usual braid and put on an oversized shirt in preparation for sleeping.

Tilora turned around to face her and leaned back against the dresser. "Why not?"

"Not really the type, I suppose," she said. "At least, I'm not usually seen as the type, so I never really got into it."

"What if I wanted to dance with you?"

Llevura smiled softly. "I wouldn't object."

Arms around each other, they began to sway to the gentle beat of the music box. Tilora led her partner around the room, twirling along a meandering path that she made up as they went. Llevura wished she could rest her head against Tilora's shoulder, but being the taller one, she settled for focusing on the feeling of their chests pressed together. When the music began to slow, Tilora let go of all but Llevura's hand and stepped up onto the bed, followed by Llevura, and they let themselves fall backwards onto the mattress as the final notes rang out.

Llevura turned her head toward her girlfriend beside her and kissed her on the nose.

"I could get used to dancing."

[razaks-wheel]

[Llevura and Talvini unpack Ildari being the Nerevarine following the events of Tribunal.]

Llevura arrived at Tel Galen and triggered the alarm rune at the door to alert the tower's mage-lord to her presence.

"It's Llevura," she called up the tower's shaft once she was inside.

"Oh, how nice! Come in!" Talvini called down to her.

She cast a levitation spell and floated up to the next level to meet her friend.

"Would you like some coffee?" Talvini asked. "I have a pot that's just about ready."

"That sounds lovely."

She sat down at the table while Talvini poured two mugs of coffee. Knowing Talvini, it was likely more than "just about ready." She had a tendency to forget about coffee she had brewing while she worked on her projects. It was sure to be nice and strong—and, thankfully, kept hot with magic.

"So, what brings you all the way to Vvardenfell?"

"Would you mind casting a rune?" Llevura asked. It was a phrase uttered between them enough that she knew Talvini would know what she meant: a rune to block any divine onlookers from perceiving potentially dangerous conversations. As soon as the request left her mouth, however, she realized how futile it would be. Still, it was a source of tenuous comfort, and so she let Talvini cast it anyway.

Talvini joined her at the table once the rune was cast and looked at her expectantly, with a hint of worry in her eyes. Of course she knew that Llevura would not have asked her to cast a rune if she did not have something important to talk about.

"The Nerevarine—Ildari—she's your granddaughter, isn't she?" Llevura asked.

Talvini took a sip of her coffee and nodded slowly, as though she had been expecting the question for some time.

"She is. But she doesn't know about me. She can't know about me yet," she said. "Do you remember the Ildari we knew in the Second Era? Ildari Melas, she called herself."

"Melas...like Faryn," Llevura said. She did remember her, at least vaguely, but she had not put it together before today. "Faryn, who raised your granddaughter. But, how is that possible?"

"Several years from now, she'll travel back to the Second Era," Talvini said. "I don't know the details, since it hasn't happened yet."

Llevura sat in thought for a few moments as she sipped at her coffee. It was no wonder Talvini—and Milia, when she was still alive—had grown so evasive over the years. They had a timeline to protect.

"So you've always known what she would become? What she would do?"

"We knew she would be the Nerevarine, and vaguely what that would entail," Talvini said. She looked more closely at Llevura with a question in her eyes. "I assume there's something I don't know?"

"I suppose so," Llevura said carefully. She wondered for a moment whether she should even tell Talvini what had happened, but as Ildari's ancestor, she should have some special rights. "Ildari may have killed both of our patrons."

Talvini set her mug down quickly, barely wincing as a few droplets splashed onto her hand, and leaned in.

"Sotha Sil and Almalexia are dead?" she asked. There was a mixture of incredulity and devastation on her face. Although her orthopraxy from her younger years had faded with age, there was no doubt that her gods still held a place in her heart. "And...Ildari...?"

"I don't know exactly what happened," Llevura said. "I'm still processing it all, myself. What I know is that Almalexia told Ildari that Sotha Sil had gone mad and had to be dealt with, and that Ildari might have to kill him. She sent her to the Clockwork City and followed her soon after, saying that she might need help. Too much time passed, and my colleagues and I all lost access to our divine-granted abilities, and then Ildari returned alone.

"The next day—yesterday—Ildari came back to Mournhold with Vivec. They spent some time with Fedris and Archcanon Gavas; I suspect they may have all gone to the Clockwork City to see to...the remains. Then, when they were done, Vivec addressed the Hands and confirmed that both ALM and SI were dead."

She steadied herself with another sip of coffee, letting the heat on her lips ground her. This was not the time for a breakdown; she had done that enough already.

"They haven't told us exactly what happened. If Sotha Sil had truly gone mad as we were told, then perhaps he killed Almalexia, and tried to kill Ildari, who defended herself. But—Three forgive me—I don't know if I believe that.

"Almalexia said that Sotha Sil released fabricants to attack Mournhold. But she went to the Clockwork City immediately before the attack. It is...possible, if unthinkable, that they coordinated the attacks together in order to lure Ildari to the Clockwork City, where they could face her together. I got the sense that Almalexia resented Ildari's role in Azura's prophecy, and maybe Sotha Sil felt the same, and they wanted to...remove her—if you'll forgive my coarse phrasing—but thought they would have a better chance if they teamed up against her.

"On the other hand, Almalexia had her reforge Nerevar's legendary blade before sending her to the Clockwork City. So maybe everything she said was true, and Sotha Sil was beyond reason." She sighed. "I shouldn't try to understand the intentions of a god."

Talvini, who had been listening intently for the whole explanation, her face difficult to read, simply asked, "How are you doing?"

"Honestly? Not great," she said with half a laugh as if it would help draw attention away from her pain. "I won't pretend I didn't notice their decline; Almalexia had been struggling to hold on for some time. And while I don't know exactly what happened when Ildari defeated Dagoth Ur, I do know it changed them. Still, I wasn't expecting something so drastic to happen so soon. I've been trying to process it on my own when I can, but it's hard to mourn someone I loved and devoted my whole being to when I have to act like she's not really gone."

Talvini nodded sympathetically. "How is Tilora doing?"

"Tilora doesn't know," Llevura said quietly, as if she could otherwise hear them all the way from Mournhold. "She noticed that something was upsetting me, of course, and she knows I can't tell her the details, so she might have some guesses. But she has her duties as a priest, and priests are generally not supposed to assume their gods are dead. She'll learn what happened soon enough, but in the meantime, I'm more or less on my own." She took another sip of coffee. "What about you? Sotha Sil was your patron. Are you okay?"

Talvini's eyes drifted far away, and she offered a pensive shrug. "I knew he would die sometime between the prophecies and Ildari's jaunt into the Second Era. I didn't know it would be immediately after the prophecies, and I certainly didn't know Ildari would be involved—or, could be involved, anyway." She brought her eyes back to the present. "It's a lot to unpack."

"It is," Llevura agreed.

"Maybe someday Ildari will tell us what really happened."

"Not sure I want to know," Llevura said. "On the other hand, guessing is worse."

Talvini raised her mug in solemn agreement. Her eyes floated into the distance once more. "The weight she was carrying...the whole time we knew her..."

"I can't imagine."

"Nor I. Poor thing." She snapped her eyes back to present and added, "I mean, assuming she didn't just murder them both in cold blood, but I highly doubt that's what happened."

Llevura shook her head. "No, I can't imagine that's what happened. She looked as devastated as I felt when she returned to Mournhold. Hers was not the face of a foul murderer."

"Good, I suppose," Talvini said. "I just wish I could offer her...anything. Instead, I have to keep pretending I don't exist."

"You'll see her again someday," Llevura said. "How old was she in the Second Era?"

"Thirties, forties? I expect it'll be in the next decade or so. Good thing I'm not going anywhere."

Llevura smiled. "Good thing, indeed. Hope I can say the same." Her smile faded slightly. "Everything is going to be very different, very soon. I'll admit I'm afraid of what our world might look like tomorrow, let alone in a decade. But I'm glad to have a friend I can talk to. Thanks for having me, Tal."

She stood up to leave, and Talvini joined her.

"You're welcome any time. It gets lonely out here in a tower that's blocked off from most prying eyes. Bit of a self-imposed loneliness, granted, but I enjoy the company nonetheless."

She offered a hug, and only in her friend's embrace did Llevura realize how much she needed it. It lasted a bit longer than one might have expected, but she hoped Talvini wouldn't mind. They did just lose their gods, after all.

When they finally let go, Llevura took a step back.

"Thanks again, Tal. See you soon," she said as she cast the recall spell to take herself home.

[razaks-wheel]

[Llevura loses access to her divine spear shortly after Almalexia leaves for the Clockwork City.]

The Hands of Almalexia waited.

And waited.

It was to be a quick trip, no more than an hour or two. She was just going to follow the Nerevarine to the Clockwork City, in case she ran into more trouble than she could handle and needed a god's intervention. This was Almalexia's divine truth as given to her Hands.

So they waited.

Several hours passed, according to the tiring of Llevura's legs and the grumbling of her stomach. The Hands fidgeted quietly, awkwardly. Llevura, for one, was thankful that her helmet hid her concern. She wondered how many of her colleagues felt the same.

Finally, Llevura said, "Let's take breaks in shifts." As one of the older Hands, her words carried some weight when their god was not present to give orders.

She motioned for Drals, a younger Hand who had been fidgeting the most, to leave his post with her. They obtained some food from the Temple Ministry and then headed toward the front of the building.

"Let's eat on the front landing, if you don't mind," Llevura said. "I know it's ashy out there, but I'd like to keep an eye out for...anything."

For what, she was not even sure herself, but Drals offered no objection, and so they sat on the stone floor outside the entrance to the Temple with their kwama eggs and saltrice. Her old joints complained, but she had a feeling that no amount of cushions would bring her comfort right now.

"Don't look so nervous," she chided quietly when she noticed after a few minutes that Drals had hardly touched his food. "There's nothing to worry about, and you'll set a bad example for the priests and templegoers."

"You're right," Drals said with a forced smile. "Most likely the Clockwork City's defenses were more than the Nerevarine could handle, and the Sacred Lady in her unending mercy intervened to help her. They're probably fighting through fabricants as we speak."

"Exactly," Llevura said. Perhaps if she tried hard enough, she would even believe it herself.

They finished eating in silence. Llevura had to remind herself a few times to stay present and avoid worrying, just as she had reminded Drals. When they were done, they stood up and stretched, and replaced their helmets to block out the ash from the ongoing storm.

"You could take an hour or so to rest," she said. "I, however, don't feel much like resting right now, and might stay out here and train. You're welcome to join me, if you'd prefer."

"Training sounds good," Drals said. Despite not being able to see his face, Llevura thought she could hear some relief in his voice to be offered an alternative to being alone with his thoughts.

Llevura retrieved blunted weapons from inside, and they descended the steps to the yard. They positioned themselves across from one another, with the front door of the Temple in their view, in case any news should arise.

Llevura drew back her hands and called forth the spear of light granted to her by Almalexia. No spear appeared.

She glanced up at her training partner and laughed nervously. "Off day, I suppose."

She relaxed her hands, and then drew them back again. The same motion she had made every day for almost eight centuries, a motion as natural to her as breathing. Her hands remained empty. Her stomach lurched.

Drals clapped his hands together to cloak himself in burning light, an ability also granted to him by their patron. Nothing happened. He tried once more. Nothing.

Llevura's heart and mind raced. Perhaps it was simply due to Almalexia technically being in a different plane? No, Llevura's divine-granted abilities had worked during her own trips to the Clockwork City in ages past, and so the reverse would also be true.

There was only one explanation. One impossible, unspeakable explanation.

They stood facing each other, neither wanting to be the one to say it.

"Let's just stick with physical weapons for now, hm?" Llevura managed to say after what felt like an eternity.

Drals nodded. And so, despite the fact that Llevura could barely feel her limbs, she drew her practice sword and they fought. What else could they do?

After a few bouts, they were distracted by movement on the Temple landing. A mer who Llevura recognized as the Nerevarine stood talking to another mer in a blue dress, whom Llevura could not identify at this distance. Actually, as Llevura approached, it looked more like the woman in blue was doing all the talking, but she seemed to finish her speech and disappeared before Llevura reached the steps. She stopped in her tracks for a moment as the ash storm cleared up all at once, and then removed her helmet and continued her approach.

"Serjo Ildari," she called up to the Nerevarine as she ascended the steps to meet her.

The Nerevarine turned to face her. Her eyes were puffy, and her stance was that of a mer who was exhausted in much more than the physical sense. The poor girl looked like she would rather be anywhere but here.

"Good to see you've returned," Llevura said, because she could not think of anything better to say. "I assume everything went as expected?"

There was a look in Ildari's eyes, a pain well beyond her purported twenty-some years. It was all the answer Llevura needed. Her world shattered.

"Right," she said softly. "Carry on."

The girl nodded with some relief, as though she had feared being detained in any sense of the word, and channeled a spell to depart. Over the whoosh of the recall spell, Llevura barely heard her whisper, "I'm sorry."

[razaks-wheel]

[Llevura says “Tilorbas” for 1,000 gold.

This is a joke and also not very serious. It’s also like 16+. (It involves a euphemism for boobs.)]

Llevura stood atop the steps to the Tribunal Temple in Mournhold, dressed in her civilian clothes. Her friend Milia had been doing some adventuring that had brought her to the area, and so she had decided to stop by at the end of the day. They spent some time catching up while Llevura waited for her girlfriend to finish her own duties for the day.

"Doing anything fun tonight?" Milia asked.

"Actually, yes," Llevura said. "I have plans with Tilora this evening."

"Ooh, date night?" Milia said. "Gonna get a fancy dinner? Snuggle? See those Tilorbas?"

Llevura raised an eyebrow. "'Tilorbas?' Is that supposed to be in reference to my girlfriend's breasts?"

Milia looked like she had amused herself more than anyone, and was barely holding in a giggle.

"What, you don't call them that?"

"Why in Oblivion would I call them that?"

"I'll give you ten gold."

"What are you, a child?"

"A hundred, then."

Llevura folded her arms. "It's not going to happen, Milia."

"A thousand gold. Just have Tilora tell me you did it."

"A thousand gold for what?"

The door to the temple had opened while they were talking, and now Tilora joined them, leaning vaguely against Llevura, waiting for an arm to be wrapped around her. Llevura was happy to oblige.

"Something incredibly immature," she said. "No need to concern yourself."

"I asked Llev to say a simple word," Milia said, apparently having ignored her. "If she deigns to say it, tell me and I'll give you—or her—a thousand gold. Oh, and it has to be in context. She can't just say, 'The word was whatever,' and think that's good enough."

"And what's stopping me from just saying she said it so we can split the gold?" Tilora asked.

"Llev's honor."

Llevura tightened her jaw and said nothing. Her friend knew her well, unfortunately. Tilora smiled up at her, looking faintly mischievous, despite not even knowing the terms.

"One word for a thousand gold? Sounds like a bargain."

Milia looked satisfied. "I'll take my leave, then. Enjoy your date, ladies."

---

And so it happened as predicted. They went on their date, had a fancy dinner and a couple glasses of shein, went home and had a snuggle that soon escalated. When Tilora's shirt was partway off and covering her face, Llevura swallowed her pride. For a thousand gold.

"Ah, such lovely...Tilorbas."

There was a pause. Llevura's face was already burning.

"Did you just—" Tilora put her shirt back on. "Did you just call my tits 'Tilorbas?'"

She didn't look angry, luckily. Incredulous, maybe, but mostly laughing. Then it clicked.

"That was the dare?"

Llevura nodded, her face still as hot as the pit of Red Mountain.

"I'm so proud of you!"

Tilora tackled her to the bed and kissed her. Despite her embarrassment, she was happy for the kisses, and to have a girlfriend who could tolerate some silliness, even if Llevura could be a bit rigid herself.

Tilora sat back up and took her shirt off, for real this time.

"You can touch my Tilorbas, if you want."

---

The following day, Milia came by the temple again on her continued adventuring business. She caught sight of Tilora and veered in her direction.

"Anything to report?" she asked.

Tilora pointedly cast an energy orb in her direction and held out a hand.

"Pay up."

[razaks-wheel]

[Adyn returns to Vivec after the events of Tribunal and expects to die.]

Adyn kept their eyes low as they entered Vivec's palace. This was not a time for confidence, and certainly not for talking as equals, even if this affected Nerevar even more than it did Adyn's present self. Their negligence had killed one of Vivec's closest companions, and their blade had killed the other. They could beg for mercy, but Mercy was dead by their hand.

They knelt before their patron, their one remaining god, and whispered their death rites.

"Blessed are we who serve ALMSIVI. Death does not diminish; the ghost gilds with glory. Blessed ALMSIVI, through birth, life, ghost." When they were ready, they raised their eyes to Vivec's and said, "I submit myself to your judgment."

Vivec looked deeply concerned, but not angry.

"Adyn, what happened?"

"You can't hear my prayers anymore, can you?" they realized out loud. "Or watch over me?"

"No," ze said. "Not nearly as much as I could before."

They nodded slowly as the weight of that truth settled in: they would have to relive the events in order to be judged appropriately.

"Well, as it is said, keep no secret from your Judge's scale." They tried to center themself to tell the story, but immediately broke into a sob. "I killed Almalexia. And Sotha Sil...gods, it's complicated."

They took another moment, now resigned to the fact that they would be crying, but trying still to organize the story into its relevant parts. They told Vivec of the Mazed Band and the fabricants and the ash storms and Trueflame, of the Clockwork City and the fateful confrontation. When they were done, they took Trueflame from their hip and Hopesfire from their bag and set them down in front of them.

"I disarm myself. If you decide to kill me, I will understand, and I will not fight back. It would be your right as my god, never mind as my friend and as the friend of those I wronged. What I did was...unforgivable. Unimaginable." They took a breath that they knew might be their last. "Do what you will."

Vivec's feet lowered to the floor. They closed their eyes and hoped that the killing blow would be swift.

Arms under theirs lifted them up and pulled them close. Vivec shook as ze wept against their shoulder, and Adyn too began crying again, even more this time, as though this unexpected display of tenderness had unblocked the foyada. After a few moments, they sat down beside the blades, holding hands, a mess of tears and emotions, very, very mortal.

"It is very sad that it should end this way, something that began in such glory and noble promise," Vivec said.

"I know. I'm so sorry, Vehk. I should have trusted my instincts about the Band. And failing that, I should have let her kill me. I—What I did—"

Vivec held up a hand to quiet them, and then returned it to theirs. "As my Buoyant Armiger, you are sworn to defend me from all threats, are you not?"

"I am," they conceded.

"And Almalexia told you she would kill me, did she not?"

"She did."

"Then you acted as you needed to."

"I...guess," they said. "It just feels like I had to have done something wrong. I couldn't have done all of that and still be right."

"'Right' and 'wrong' have as little meaning here as 'right' and 'left,'" Vivec said. "They are labels we create to rationalize reality after the fact, to limit it to a concrete form. They mean only what meaning we impose. There is no need to define what happened in those terms. It is enough to feel your truth, beyond words. It is enough to simply be sad."

Adyn thought about that, and about their multitude of feelings, and then tried not to think about it too concretely.

"I am sad," they said. "I'm...a lot of things."

Vivec carefully brought their heads together so that their foreheads touched, closed hir eyes, and took a breath.

"As am I."

[razaks-wheel]

[In her research into Imperial-funded overhaul events, Meryse contacts the Nerevarine. This probably isn't canon. Unless]

3E 432

Meryse set up a sound wall around the projection room she had booked for the afternoon. She wished she could do this somewhere more private, like her own home, but even the "modern-style" projection that many mages made use of was still a little ways beyond her current skill level, and so she was stuck using a device at her local Mages Guild.

It was a dangerous game, she knew, doing research that could be considered anti-Imperial in an Imperial-funded facility, but she was fairly confident that she knew how to take the appropriate precautions. Besides, if the rumors could be trusted, the person she was going to be talking to was at least nominally considered a friend of the Empire, and so even if the projection could be tracked, she should be safe.

In their brief exchange of letters, they had provided each other with a pointer gem, a tiny crystal infused with a small amount of magicka, to make it possible to target each other with a projection. When the designated time came, Meryse placed Ildari's pointer gem in the device's slot and powered it up with a bit of her own magicka. She sat at the desk in the rune on the floor and set her notebook down in front of her while the device whooshed to life and sent its projection to what she imagined was a fabled mushroom tower all the way in Morrowind.

A few moments later, a translucent form appeared in front of her of a Dunmer woman with hair flopped to one side of her head. She had heard that the Nerevarine had been young, but she was still surprised to see that this mer barely looked older than she. Of course, it was hard to gauge an age from a projection, especially of a mer. Maybe she was older than she looked, or maybe Meryse was really just older than she felt.

As they exchanged introductions and pleasantries, Meryse noticed a ring on Ildari's finger decorated with Azuran symbology. She had heard of that ring, Moon-and-Star, in her studies when preparing for this meeting. It was said to give Nerevar, and only Nerevar, a substantial boon in interpersonal abilities. She wondered whether Ildari was wearing it for symbolic reasons, or if she was just as nervous to be interviewed by a stranger as Meryse was to be conducting the interview. Either way, Meryse wished she had a ring like that, though preferably one that wouldn't kill her.

"So, I'm studying some of the major events that the Empire has seemed to have a hand in, as part of a larger research project, and I wanted to talk to some of the key players in those events," Meryse said. "You were employed by the Emperor himself to fulfill your Nerevarine prophecies, correct?"

"Ah...not exactly," Ildari said. "The Emperor selected me, yes, and tried to get me into his service, but I never even ended up talking to the guy the Empire wanted me to go to."

"Oh," Meryse said, her pen hovering above her notes. "Can I ask why?"

"Someone intercepted me outside the Census and Excise office and gave me a better offer if I would take the orders they'd given me to his boss instead of the Imperial contact I was told to meet. His boss was on the council of House Telvanni, which I wanted to connect with anyway, being my ancestral House, and it gave me the option not to work for the Empire, so I took him up on it."

"And the Empire was fine with you not following their orders?"

"'Fine' would be a stretch." She laughed. "Let's just say that when I visit my mom in the Imperial City these days, I stay clear of Green Emperor Way. They probably know better than to mess with me, honestly, but I also know better than to dangle myself in front of them."

Well, that was a deviation. Maybe this was more dangerous than Meryse had anticipated, if this Ildari was less of a friend of the Empire than she had previously believed. On the other hand, it might mean that her answers would be more useful than she expected, as long as any of the questions she had prepared still applied. She probed her wards to make sure they were holding up, and then glanced down at her notebook to decide where to go next.

"You were still initially set on your path by the Emperor, right? Do you know how he picked you?"

"Oh, Uriel absolutely orchestrated my involvement, even if I broke away the second I had the chance," Ildari said. "Certain entities have the ability to identify 'Heroes'—agents of prophecy. Gods can do it. I suspect Moth Priests can, too. Something about it being written in the Elder Scrolls. I assume an emperor has connections and probably makes it his business to keep tabs on any Heroes that pop up.

"Here's the thing, though: they did have to mess with my life to make it work. They killed my parents before I was old enough to remember them, because the prophecy said the Nerevarine has to have 'uncertain parents.' And they made up the charges that landed me in prison, because apparently being in prison is important to trigger the start of a prophecy, at least according to my friend Vivec. That tells me two things. First, they identified me as a Hero early on, long before the prophecies were actually set to be fulfilled. Second, they're willing to force a prophecy's conditions to be met, if it suits them."

"Wow, I...didn't realize they would go that far. Not that it's surprising, exactly. I guess I just didn't know they had the resources and the drive to act on prophecy so long before it's relevant."

She took a moment to consider the implications for her own research, and jotted a few notes down. She looked at her next question. It would sound strange, she knew, but Ildari seemed open-minded enough. Clearly, she was already aware of the implications of prophecy; she might not balk at a question about the nature of time and the aurbis.

"Did anything...strange happen while you were fulfilling your prophecies?" she asked. "I know that's broad. Anything that's hard to explain or understand, maybe relating to the flow of time?"

"That's very broad," Ildari agreed. "There was the part where I got all my memories back from my past seventeen incarnates' lives. That was strange and somewhat relates to the flow of time. But that's pretty specific to me. Probably not what you're looking for." With half a smile, she asked, "So, you're studying the Warp in the West?"

"Ah...yes," Meryse said with a nervous laugh.

"Don't buy the idea that it was a miracle from the Divines?"

"Not exactly," she said. "Not even a little bit, really. I want to figure out what really happened. Everyone sort of waves their hands around what happened, and no one seems to remember it. I do, sort of, but I was a kid, so no one believes me. I want to know what the Empire is hiding, and what else they might be hiding—who else they've hurt."

"Well, if you're looking for people the Empire has hurt, you've come to the right place," Ildari said dryly. "Be careful, though. The Empire doesn't always look kindly on its opponents, much less on people trying to uncover its secrets. I can say what I want, within reason, because quite frankly, I have power—both politically and in terms of combat ability. If you can't say the same, you should take care who you say these sorts of things to."

"Oh, I am careful, don't worry," she said. "I've got wards set up right now, I obscure my notes, and I keep my exact research questions largely to myself."

Ildari nodded. "That aside, though, you said you remember the Warp? The whole thing?"

"I remember three distinct days, when everyone talks about it being one or two. And when it was over, we were bending a knee to Uriel, and suddenly everyone was talking about the Nine like Talos had been there all along."

That seemed to interest Ildari. She paused, brow furrowed, and opened her mouth a few times as if to talk, but changing her mind each time.

After a few moments, she finally said, "I wonder if you're a Hero."

That was, somehow, not what Meryse was expecting.

"Me? I doubt it. I'm not strong or powerful or...special in any particular way, and I've never noticed the Empire messing with my life specifically, like you say they did with yours." She shrugged. "I'm just a mage, a researcher."

"So was I, before they shipped me off to Seyda Neen."

Meryse considered it for a moment longer. "I don't know. If that's all it is, it just feels like such a disappointing answer. And even if it is true, I still want to know how it happened. I guess I'll keep researching until I know better."

"Good idea. I'm sure there's plenty that the Empire is hiding; you being able to tell that they're hiding something is more of a compass than a solution," Ildari said. "Still, you might want to consider picking up some survival skills, maybe learn how to use a sword or armor, just in case you get tossed on an adventure without warning."

"Yeah, couldn't hurt," Meryse said. "Well, thank you for taking the time to talk to me. This has been...enlightening, really, even if not in the ways I expected." She added a small laugh at the end.

"Research is never boring, is it?" Ildari said. "I hope you find what you're looking for. And if you publish your work, I'd love to read it."

"I will be sure to send you a copy. Thanks again, Ildari." She waved awkwardly and disconnected the projection.

Once the projection device was back to its inert state and she had taken Ildari's pointer gem out of its slot, she glanced down at her notes one more time. There was not much there, but she still felt like she had learned a lot, and come out with more questions than she had entered with. Naturally.

She added one more note about picking up some new skills, and then passed an encryption spell over the page. When she was satisfied that her notes were sufficiently obscured from prying eyes, she closed her notebook, slipped it into her bag, lowered her wards, and headed back out into the Mages Guild as though her concept of the world had not just been shaken.

[razaks-wheel]

[Milia finally talks to Vivec about her PTSD from getting killed/vestiged. Content warning for depictions and discussions of self-harm.]

---

Talvini was finishing making dinner when Milia arrived at home. Despite her exhaustion, Milia put on a smile for her girlfriend. She did not want to burden her with the weight of the day she'd had.

"How was work?" Talvini asked. "You went on a raid, right?"

"Yeah, it was fine," Milia said. "I died, but no big deal."

She immediately regretted disclosing even that much when she saw Talvini's response: the falter in her preparations, the softened expression with the raised eyebrow, waiting for more, but not wanting to press. As much as she appreciated the concern, it was really the sort of thing she would prefer to forget. Still, she knew Tal would worry until she talked about it.

"I was trying to scout ahead, but I messed up. Got sort of...gutted by one of the cultists. My squadmates got me to safety, but I was still bleeding out. I tried to tell them to just stab me in the heart and get it over with so that I could reform, but those s'wits didn't have the stomach. Took the better part of an hour in a haze of agony and spitting up blood before I finally died."

Her hand floated down to her stomach as the pain came back to her.

"Anyway, I need a few minutes to get changed."

She tried to avoid Tal's gaze as she headed upstairs.

The emotions finally reached her once her armor was off and her fresh clothes waited for her in a pile on the bed. She wanted to fight it, but instead lowered to the floor and wrapped her arms tight around herself while the tears reluctantly flowed.

Why am I so weak? Why can't I handle a little pain? I deserved it! I messed up! What if it had been real?

She squeezed tighter. Her nails dug deep into her shoulders. It stung, because she was weak. Because she couldn't handle the pain she deserved for her carelessness. She dragged her nails across her shoulders and onto her arms, noticing only after a moment that she had imbued them with burning magic. That was fine; she deserved to hurt, She bit her lip as the new wounds pulsed with pain.

She would have to get back downstairs soon before Tal got worried and came up to look for her and saw her like this. She quickly bandaged the wounds, not bothering with any burn salve—she needed to feel the reminder of her failure—threw her clothes on, wiped her eyes, and headed back down for dinner.

The following day at work was a normal one, standing guard in Vivec's palace. At the end of the day, Vivec asked if ze could speak with her in hir quarters. This was not an uncommon request; sometimes there was business to deal with outside of the public view. She followed hir inside, and they sat down among the cushions on the floor.

"May I take a look at your shoulders?" Vivec asked.

The panic quickly rose within her. Why would Vivec ask about that so directly? What happened to offering vague conversational hooks that she could easily refuse?

"It's nothing, really," she said with a wave of her hand, suppressing a wince as she jostled the wounds. "Just a scratch. Not that bad. Nothing to worry about."

Vivec shook hir head. "I have permitted you to lie about your well-being before, Milia, because you knew that I knew the truth. But the time for that has passed. I am no longer going to pretend that I believe you when you say you are fine. You are not fine."

"Really, it's—I mean, I know I messed up, but I can handle it. I...need to handle it."

"On the contrary, you need nothing of the sort. I will not order you to talk to me about everything that is on your mind—though I would welcome it—but I am ordering you to have your shoulders healed. So, you can let me apply this burn salve and then heal the wounds, or I can send you to Ayem who can bypass the first step and heal you through your cuirass. Which would you prefer?"

"I'll stay here," she said quietly.

She had no issues with taking her cuirass off in front of Vivec—ze was a god; she knew ze was entirely unfazed by it—and when feeling vulnerable, she would prefer to be in the presence of her patron rather than a less familiar god. Still, she cursed herself for getting into this situation. She supposed it was her punishment for letting it go too far. At least Vivec wasn't chastising her.

The salve stung for a moment, until Vivec incorporated an analgesic effect with hir other hand. She almost wished ze would let her feel the full weight of the pain, but part of her was grateful nonetheless.

"Do you want to talk about what led you to this point?" Vivec asked as ze went.

"Want? No," Milia said. "But I know I should."

She tried to gather her thoughts, but there were too many.

"I don't know where to start. Are you sure you don't want to just jump into my head and pull out my thoughts?"

"I am sure," ze said. "I would like to hear your story in a way that can only come from being shaped by your voice. Why don't you start with what happened last night, and we can work backwards?"

"Right." She took a few more moments to prepare, and then said, "Last night, I...got overwhelmed. I felt betrayed by Daron and Felil for not just killing me when I asked them to, and more than that, I was angry at myself for slipping up again, and getting killed, again. I thought maybe they were right to let me bleed out in agony. Maybe I deserved it. Maybe I still deserved to hurt. I noticed myself clawing at my own skin and I thought, 'Yeah, that's fine. That's good, actually.' So I let it happen. Then I realized I was using my Burning Embers spell, and I figured, all the better."

"They were not right, and they will be chastised for this mishandling of the situation. The ease with which they kill cultists, contrasted with their unwillingness to even temporarily kill an ally hints at concerning truths about how they conceptualize the humanity of their enemies," Vivec said. "But I digress. You believe you deserved pain for letting yourself get hurt?"

"Well...yes. Sort of. I can't seem to learn otherwise."

"Learn what?"

"Learn to avoid getting myself killed," she said. "I'm supposed to be better than that."

"You also put yourself in dangerous situations for your squadmates' sake because you know you can safely die if need be."

"I know but...but I hate it so much. I get—forgive me, I shouldn't admit this, but I get nightmares about dying all the time. I have ever since the first time. I promise my faith is true, even if I'm showing signs of soul sickness. And I know I should be grateful! I should be glad that I have the ability to get back up when I'm killed. But every single death is another failure, another instance of me not being good enough. Not strong enough, fast enough, smart enough, whatever.

"For the first seventy-two years of my life, I would pride myself on being able to handle myself against whatever dangers I would realistically face. Now? Every week, month, whatever—it feels like it's always happening—something finds a way to kill me. And then it's one more thing to add to the list of dangers I can't withstand. The list is getting pretty long.

"And one of these times is going to be the last time. I'll be a little too far from a soul gem, or my body will reject the resurrection, or something. And I won't be able to get up. Because I'll be dead. Dead dead. And the last thing I do will be to fail."

Vivec placed a hand over her right hand, and she realized she had been digging her nails again into her left arm. She tried to mumble an apology, but her voice broke and the emotions that she had been putting off by continuing to talk spilled over now that she had taken a moment to pause. She instinctively went to wipe her eyes, but remembered that her shoulders were currently being restricted in their movement.

"I'm sorry," she managed to get out after a moment. "I know none of this sounds like a good reason to...do what I did. Maybe I'm just weak. I know I'm weak." She exhaled. "I understand if you think I'm not qualified to be an Armiger."

"Do you really think you could get out of my service so easily?" Vivec asked with a shred of levity in hir voice. Ze returned hir hand to her shoulder and continued in a more serious tone, "You already explained: you hurt yourself because you were overwhelmed. The rest is context."

"Oh," Milia said. "Is it really that simple?"

"I would not call it simple. It is life, woven into story. It can be shorn down to an essence, yes, but do not let that mislead you into discounting the complexity of your full experience." Ze pulled hir hands back. "Your shoulders are healed."

She wiggled her arms a bit, and indeed, there was no more pain. She put her undershirt back on and turned to face Vivec.

"Thank you," she said. "And I apologize for my weakness."

Ze shook hir head. "Shame will not help. You are a Vestige, Milia. Few know what it is like to go through what you have been through, and fewer still respond by regularly throwing themselves at death to help others. You are navigating a strange and frightening territory, and your response is understandable. I will ask you this: Have I earned your trust?"

"Of course. You're my god."

"Have I truly? Will you come to me in the future, before you find yourself overwhelmed?"

"I will...try harder," she said. "It's just difficult."

"I know. But I hope I have proven to you that you will be safe. That I will not lash out, punish you, fire you, re-educate you, anything that might worry you. That I will simply offer my aid as your god. And even if you do become overwhelmed, and you do hurt yourself again, I still will not be angry. I would not order you never to do it again; that would do more harm than good. I will instead ask that if you find yourself in that situation again, try not to use fire. And either way, come to me—or to someone—for a heal. Deal?"

She nodded slowly. "Deal."

Vivec stood up and helped Milia to her feet.

"Yes, you may have a hug," ze said, reading her mind.

She felt a warmth in the hug, as though ze had meant everything ze had said, as though ze truly cared about her well-being. She supposed ze had really earned her trust, as much as her anxious mind could allow.

When the hug was finished, Vivec opened a portal.

"You should get home before Talvini worries. More than she already has, that is."

[razaks-wheel]

[Dreveni has heard that the Redoran guard aren’t permitting people to live in the abandoned houses in Raven Rock, even if they need shelter. She would like that to change.]

---

Dreveni rose at dawn on the day she planned to speak with Councilor Morvayn. After an obligatory communion with Azura and breakfast at the Retching Netch, she headed for the Councilor's house.

Talks like this always made her nervous. It was hard enough to even offer aid, and harder still to criticize their present methods. But she owed it to the people of the town to make sure they were getting as much support as possible, and the right kinds. Still, she wished she had a ring like her mother's to make the talking easier. Instead, she had to rely on a set of fine clothes, the clout that came with her name, her previous efforts in service to Raven Rock, and a little under two centuries of training.

She considered bringing Teldryn along for support, but it was better to go alone for this meeting. Bringing along a mercenary might look a little aggressive for a first talk, even if he was a friend who had accompanied her on countless diplomatic missions in the past, and even if Teldryn wasn't the one who had recently defeated a dragon god. She would, however, keep the Ebony Blade on her hip. It was considered a show of good faith among Dunmer to keep one's blades in plain sight, and sporting an artifact belonging to one of their gods might help convey her devotion to her people better than words could.

She took a breath, neatened her robe, straightened her back, and entered the Councilor's house.

"Good morning, Serjo Morvayn," she greeted him with a bow. "Are you holding audience at this time?"

"I am," he said, sitting up a little straighter now that he was faced with a petitioner. "How can I help you, serjo?"

"I wanted to formally offer aid on behalf of my colleagues in Blacklight. I came to ask what we can do for Raven Rock."

He looked confused, even a little alarmed.

"We...? I'm sorry, serjo, are you from House Redoran?"

"Ah, no. Have I not fully introduced myself?" She smiled. "My apologies. My name is Sotha Dreveni Llothri."

She paused just long enough to let him process the name. There was the first wave of recognition—Sotha, there was only one Sotha in the common consciousness, even this long after his death—and the second wave—Llothri, like the Nerevarine. (Often, she would only use one family name: Llothri for most day-to-day business and dealings with common folk, and Sotha for the occasional petulant priest—those were always fun. But she had learned over time that when dealing with House officials, especially from the supposedly traditional House Redoran, it was best to pull out the full name.)

She continued, "I originally came to Raven Rock at the request of my good friend Teldryn to see what assistance my colleagues and I could provide. By some hand of prophecy, I had to make a detour to Skyrim to deal with the dragon problem, but now I am able to focus my attention more completely on the rebuilding efforts here on Solstheim. Tell me, serjo, are you familiar with the relief and rebuilding guidelines published by my colleagues, most recently revised in 182?"

"Ah, yes...I have a copy right around here..."

"Excellent," she saved him from his presumably vain search. "Then you're familiar with the way we prioritize people's needs: food and shelter being among the most important.

"Now, some of your guards have pointed out to me that there are abandoned buildings on the edge of town, but that you prefer for individuals without a home of their own in town to stay at the Retching Netch. Is that correct?"

"Yes, that's right. We have a few isolated cases where we'll allow people to stay in the abandoned buildings, but for everyone else, Geldis can provide shelter for a small nightly fee."

"I see," she said. "Well, given that shelter is among the top priorities, the first step my colleagues will take will be to make sure everyone has a place to stay, even if they cannot afford a night at the cornerclub. One way my colleagues could do this is by purchasing the abandoned buildings, renovating them, and then releasing them to the public, ensuring that they can be used by anyone who needs them. Naturally, this would take up a significant portion of the aid we are able to provide, leaving less funding for other needs."

In her mind, she reminded herself of her training, in both diplomacy and how to carry herself like a Sotha and command the respect her father did without the weight of godhood behind her. She stood tall, hands behind her back, her expression mostly even with a hint of compassion—expressions were hard for her, but this was one she had worked on a great deal. Her father had apparently mastered the art of reflecting whatever role the people needed him to be at a given time, and she tried her best to do the same. A mirror. Nothing more.

"However," she continued, "should you find a way to open those buildings to the public on your own with a guarantee that they would be available to anyone in need, no questions asked, then that chunk of funding could go straight to other important uses, such as helping with food stocks, or even constructing fortifications on the west side of town like Garyn has been asking about."

He stiffened slightly, perhaps noticing that the ultimatum she had provided was really no choice at all.

"I'm sure we can get a team together to prepare those buildings for public use," he said.

"If you need funding for such a team, I could submit a request—"

"No, no. We'll get it taken care of. Come back tomorrow after I've had a chance to sort things out, and we can work out the details of this aid plan."

"I look forward to it. Until tomorrow, Serjo Morvayn."

"Indeed, honor to you and your, ah, House, Serjo Sotha."

Dreveni bowed once more and took her leave.

[razaks-wheel]

@the-greymarch​ Hi thank you! :D

(prompt source)

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A familiar smell greeted Milia when she opened the door to her home after returning from work. Familiar, but...unexpected. Talvini stood over some pots on the stove, with the hint of a smile that looked like she was up to something.

"Whatcha making?" Milia asked, crossing over to the kitchen area.

"Oh, just some nix and ash yam stew." The smile looked like it was getting hard to contain.

Milia tilted her head. She had mentioned recently that that was her favorite meal, but it was just a passing comment. Had Tal really remembered?

"I didn't know how you liked it, so I popped to Balmora to talk to your parents and ended up grabbing some of the spice blend that they said you liked and couldn't get anywhere else. Then I hopped to the Farmers and Laborers Hall in St. Olms, because I know they have some of the best meat and produce on Vvardenfell—Vivec made sure you weren't on patrol in the area while I was there—and then I came home and set to cooking, and it's been stewing all day. The saltrice is just about ready, too."

Her expression had morphed into one of focus as she scooped some saltrice into two bowls, and then topped each with a helping of stew.

"I hope it turned out okay; I don't often make stews."

"It smells amazing," Milia said.

The smile returned. She picked up the bowls to bring them to the table.

"Hey, set those down for a second?"

As soon as the bowls were safely back on the counter, Milia threw her arms around Tal and pulled her into a tight hug.

"Thanks for thinking of me."

[razaks-wheel]

@nostalgic-breton-girl​ Hi thank you!

(prompt source)

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4E 2

Talvini lit a candle and brought it to the Waiting Door on the upper level of Tel Galen. She set it on the shelf that held Milia's effects: her staff, her cuirass, her lute, her favorite mug. She pulled up a chair and sat down, and spent a few moments in quiet meditation, preparing herself to speak.

"Hey Mils," she said when she was ready. "I got to see Ildari today. She just got back from the Second Era—did the whole thing in one day, from our end. So, no more need to hide and watch over her from afar.

"She asked about you. Honestly, I don't think she fully expected either of us to be alive when she got back, so she seemed pleasantly surprised that I was still around, but still saddened to learn that you're gone. I told her I'd take her to the Llothri tomb in Necrom sometime—she should get a chance to see all of her ancestors; she has some catching up to do—but I also attuned her to this tower, so she can get past the cloak and come see you at the Waiting Door whenever she wants.

"Faryn was there too. It was nice to see her; she doesn't often visit now that she lives in the Imperial City, but I told her Ildari would want to see her, and she came right over. She was immediately taken with Dreveni, if a bit surprised to learn that she was a grandmother of a four-year-old." She laughed. "And, gods, you should have seen the look on her face when Ildari told her who the father was. I think she was about as shocked as I was when I first learned."

She passed her hand over the candle's flame, close enough to keep herself grounded, but high enough that the warmth did not bother her too much.

"It's strange to see Ildari grow up so fast. I know we knew her back then, but it was so long ago. I spent the past few years watching her stumble through her prophecies and try to find her place in the world, and then suddenly she's a whole adult with a few more prophecies under her belt and a daughter. I know they say time flies, but I don't think they're accounting for time travel. Eight years in a few hours is really something."

A few more seconds passed while she considered whether she had anything else to say, or if she should release her wife's spirit's attention from the mortal world.

"I wish you could have seen them again."

She sat in meditative silence until the candle burned out.

[razaks-wheel]

Dreveni isn't sure what she's supposed to feel when she defeats Alduin. There's some sense of exhilaration, and some relief—the present threat to all reality has been ended, after all. But there's no ecstasy, no raucous cheering. Not from her, anyway. She's just killed an entire god, from a pantheon that isn't hers. It may have been necessary—it may have been a service even to those who held Alduin as one of their gods—but it doesn't feel like the sort of thing to celebrate.

When she returns to the Throat of the World, Paarthurnax's words validate her confused feelings. She has not just quashed a nuisance. She has destroyed Akatosh's firstborn, and there will be ramifications, no matter how glorious the fight was.

She goes back to her home in Whiterun. It's empty. She left her friends in Dragonsreach when Odahviing took her to Skuldafn, and she assumes they're waiting for her at the Bannered Mare now. She'll catch up with them soon and tell them of her victory. But first, she changes out of her armor and into some regular clothes and casts a projection to contact her mother.

It's been a while since they last spoke, so they spend a few minutes catching up. Dreveni tells her about the battle and the steps leading up to it. And then they're at the present.

"What's it supposed to feel like when you win?" Dreveni asks. "Am I supposed to feel good? Am I supposed to feel relieved?"

Ildari thinks back to her own prophecies, the times she had to kill people who were once so dear to her, but had been so changed and corrupted over time that there was no other choice but to end them in order to prevent catastrophe. She knows the experiences she had are very different from what her daughter just faced, but maybe their feelings are similar.

"You're supposed to feel like it was necessary," she says. "Whoever or whatever picks out Heroes—whether that's gods or the Elder Scrolls or some obscure force of fate—they don't care about us. They don't care about how we feel or about the mess of a world they leave us with that we're somehow expected to clean up. Are you supposed to feel relieved? Maybe. But good?" She shakes her head sympathetically. "No."