What, no comments? This cannot be borne! Seriously, I check the forums repeatedly each day, looking for updates to an handful of stories- and this is most certainly one of them.

You paint a beautiful picture of Teresa's "new way" of seeing her beloved city. I can feel the oppression of the stone vs. the freedom of the woods. And that is only partly due to my being a woods-runner myself- you write so skillfully that I am instantly standing just behind her shoulder as she surveys her surroundings....

Additionally, a wonderful job of showing how her growing self-awareness yields a greater awareness of others- as human and frail and (potentially) worthwhile. Your light touch is evident yet again- especially in the fact that her self-awareness is far from complete.

I can't say it any better than Treydog did!

Buffy said Teresa was amazing, now I can see why.

A new fan of Teresa. :clap:

Another moment of self discovery. I looks as if Teresa will be spared the soul wrenching loneliness of the solitary hero that, from time to time, debilitated Sarrah. I'm glad.

:read: Thank you again SubRosa! A joy to read, both as a story and as an example of worthy of emulation.

Again, there are just too many subtly brilliant touches to highlight. Oh what the heck, maybe just one. For some reason the creativity of this struck me: "She broke from her reverie in time to notice that her feet had taken her completely through the Talos Plaza district..." Wonderful.

Teresa of the Faint Smile.

She is learning (slowly) that the Legion is a good thing.

Beautiful use of words and description.

I love the pace at which you are revealing Teresa to her hungry readers.

Well done!

:whisper: Sorry, I couldn't find any nits to pick. ^_^

After reading the descriptions of Nerussa's charms I was led to go look her up. (just like I did when Acadian started talking about Sigrid, lol) It is amazing how she has done her hair, I never noticed that before. I am now led to go look up Sigrid again and see how she does her hair, lol.

It's funny, for the first time since I started playing the game - your story has got me noticing NPC's hair styles!

treydog: Very perceptive of you as ever. Teresa is certainly not the same person who was in that cell at the beginning of the story. That was really not my intention when I started writing, and I am so thankful it worked out that way. Her self-discovery will continue long beyond the confines of this story as well. She has a lot to learn about herself, and the world she lives in.

mALX1: Thank you mALX. You are always such a dear. You had better be quiet about not noticing the hair though. If that gets around you might have your girl card revoked!

D'Emjii: Buffy has been talking has she? Good thing for Teresa! Thank you muchly for your kind thoughts. I hope you enjoy the rest.

bobg: Thank you bobg. Teresa is lucky in that she will escape that loneliness, although that will be revealed in Act II (I still have to think of a title for the story arc), which follows Not A Hero.

Acadian: She has come a long way from thinking "They were metal-clad monsters who lived to fight" to "As strange as it was, Teresa was glad to know that there were people like that in the Empire, who would do the right thing. " She still has a long way to go before she ever feels at ease around a legionary however, and the following chapter will reveal why most starkly.

Oh, and have you been noticing the faint smile? I have been trying to be subtle about the fact that she never smiles more than that, but I am hoping people have been picking up on it.



* * *

Not A Hero - 14 - Reunions of Light and Dark

Putting the Altmer out of her mind where she belonged, Teresa thought about her first stop as she made her way through the gate to the Market District. Not nearly so clean and neat as the Elven Gardens, the markets were a working class neighborhood. The stones of its buildings were worn and rough. Shoots of grass could be seen erupting from cracks in the cobblestones of the streets, while here and there toadstools blossomed in perpetual shadows cast by stone walls.

A noisy, chaotic, melting pot of all Cyrodiil, there were more shops here than the rest of the city's districts put together, Teresa thought. The streets were busy with carts loaded with goods from all over the continent. Working men loaded and unloaded crates, while shoppers of all races and social classes dodged between looking for everything from armor to wine. Here no one would spare her a second glance, she knew.

Yet Teresa froze an instant later, when she saw the face of the legionary standing watch on the market side of the gate. It was Volsinius. She knew him only too well, she thought. Her tongue reflexively sought out the gap between her back teeth where he had knocked one out with a backhand slap of his gauntleted hand. She had been eight years old, and Teresa could still remember it just as clearly as when it had happened. He had caught her trying to steal a sweet roll from a street vendor. The blow was his way of going easy on her. It was that or prison, and he made her thank him for it afterward.

Every instinct in her said to break and run as he turned to look at her. She dug her fingers into her palms, and if it were not for the leather gauntlets that she wore, she might have drawn blood. His eyes locked onto hers and she gritted her teeth. He was about to recognize her, she knew.

"You have my ear citizen," he said in the same neutral tone that watchmen reserved for ordinary, law-abiding people.

Teresa stood there, not believing what she had heard. Was this a game? she wondered. Some sort of joke on his part? But the Volsinius she knew was not one for humor or subterfuge, Teresa thought. He was a blunt instrument.

"Nothing," Teresa stammered, forcing herself to speak in order to break his gaze. "It's nothing. I just thought I knew you."

"No," he said. "If we knew one another, I would remember. I never forget a face, especially one as striking as yours Bosmer."

Teresa blushed in surprise, and quickly moved on without another word. By Nocturnal he was complimenting her! Her head swam. This was madness, pure madness. What had the Emperor done to her? she wondered. What had she done to herself?

Then she set her eyes upon an aging Imperial woman in the street outside of Edgar's Discount Spells. Her face was more lined and careworn than the cobblestones upon which she stood, and her shoulder-length hair had long since gone to grey. She wore a simple dress of coarse and dirty green wool, laced up the front with rawhide. Teresa approached with a quickened pace, and the old woman looked up at her.

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v90/subrosa_florens/oblivion/Oblivion132.jpg

"Spare a coin for an old woman?" she asked Teresa in a shaking voice.

Teresa smiled. Not the faint smile she typically cracked when she was amused or otherwise pleased, but a wide, joyful grin.

"Can you spare a hug for a little girl Simplicia?" Teresa beamed, holding her arms out and stepping closer to the beggar.

"Teresa!" Simplicia exclaimed in shock, wrapping her arms around the slender Bosmer in a warm embrace. "Is that really you?"

Teresa buried her head in the old woman's shoulder and clung to her as tightly as she could. Closing her eyes, she felt Simplicia's arms holding her close in return, and for once everything felt right with the world.

After what seemed like far too short a time, Simplicia let go and stepped back a pace to look at Teresa. The elderly Imperial could not hide the amazement on her face, nor the pleasure.

"Why look at you!" Simplicia beamed with pride. "Little Teresa! I did not even recognize you. You look so different. You changed your hair, and scented it too! Oh and look how you are dressed. You look like one of those forest folk, not a city villain at all."

"Do I really look so strange?" Teresa asked. It was something she had been wondering for some time now, since even before returning to the city. "I am still the same as ever."

"Oh my girl, you don't look the same at all," Simplicia replied. "Sure, you still have that flour-white skin, but the rest of you, it's so different. Look at all that armor, and a longbow now I see too. You walk so proud and tall, all respectable you are. You look like you are about to go out and slay some monstrous Daedra like Saint Alessia in the old stories..."

"I do?" Teresa said, eyes widening in surprise, "Really?"

"Really," Simplicia said quietly, stepping close again, and taking Teresa's arms in her own. "It's in your eyes. They're strong now, like they never were before. You used to always look down when people talked to you, even me, now you look 'em right back in the eye. You look like you could take on the world Teresa."

"I... I really don't know what to say," Teresa stammered, feeling her head whirling again. "I am just glad to see you again. You're the closest thing to a mom I have ever had."

"Oh my little Teresa..." the old Imperial gently sighed as she hugged the young Bosmer again. "Ever since I found you crying in the alley that night, I knew you were special. You were always my special little one you know."

"So how have you been old lady?" Teresa asked, trying to slip her voice back to the casual banter they used to share before she had been taken to the prison. "How many coins have you gotten so far this morning?"

"Four Septims!" the elderly woman exclaimed with glee. "And it's barely past mid-morn!"

"But what about you little Teresa?" Simplicia's features lost their joy and took on a serious cast. "Something happened to you didn't it, when you disappeared? We have all been wondering where you went to. Even that bastard Volsinius asked me what you had gotten up to."

"It's a long story, and some of it I cannot tell even you, not yet," Teresa said, losing that causal banter as she thought of the Emperor, Jauffre, and the heir. "How about we go to the Feed Bag and I'll treat you to breakfast while we catch up?"

Really in depth background, some of the things that had been just glanced at revealed - Awesome chapter, it gets better with each successive chapter! BTW, Simplicia has a large role coming up in my story as well.

:read: I'm amazed at several things (all good).

Your provide professional top quality (I had to make sure I wasn't reading a top selling published novel good) descriptions of IC. A place I have walked for years. Your descriptions are comfortably familiar, yet as though seen through new or different eyes. To top it off, you somehow do this while maintaining a brisk pacing

The quality of this story just shines brilliantly.

No wonder Teresa gave us a big smile this time!

Beautiful, SubRosa. Thank you. :tops:

My wife has an old German expression; "How you shout into the woods is how it comes back to you." This episode makes that point in a show-don't-tell way. It's a lesson we all need to be reminded of from time to time. How we are received is often a shadowy reflection of how we project ourselves to begin with.

I love the fact that you are so skillfully weaving these little lessons and truths into your narrative.

mALX1: YaaY for Simplicia! I thought I would be the only one to ever use her in a story. She was the very first beggar I saw in the game, and she has stayed in my consciousness ever since. One of the things I like about Oblivion is that it has beggars, because it shows that the world is not a nice pretty place where everyone has a future.

Simplicia is very important in the Teresa stories, and to Teresa herself. She is literally the most important person in Teresa's world. While from a writing perspective she both reveals another side of Teresa's character, and will provide a catalyst for further self-discovery beyond Not A Hero.


Acadian: You flatter me too much Paladin. You noticed the big smile did you? I hope you noticed that this was the only time in the entire story she made such a smile, and what the circumstances were.


bobg: I have a saying very similar to your wife's. The energy you send out always comes back to you. It is something I always try to keep in mind whatever I am doing.

Here in TN we have 2 in particular: "What goes around, comes around" and "Paybacks are H___"


Don't worry SubRosa, I will treat Simplicia very kindly in my story. She becomes a bit of a hero in a way.

SubRosa, I am glad you have used Simplicia in the story in the way you did.

Why?

Because...


In your posts previous to this, you have plunged deep into the psyche of Teresa, exploring her mind and psychological motivations. This is excellent, but it ran a risk - a risk of plunging Teresa into nacissistic solipism. She was slowly moving dagerously into modern novel naricissistic character territory.

But with this loving embrace of an old friend, you have broken the back of that budding problem, and not only made her character warm and human but also made the story move in a lively new direction as well - a truly excellenct two for one!!!

CONGRATULATIONS and...have I mentioned that your writing is a model for me to look up to???


:P

Blasted work. Keeps me from reading as much as I want- and from commenting as much as I would like. There is so much here, and yet it is so subtle, a passing glance would miss it. Your loyal (addicted?) readers, though, all recognize the depth and craft and feeling. (Even if I do believe I detected a stealth pun- "city villain?") That sort of low humor has no place in polite society- so, by all means, welcome aboard!

Thank you for your continued devotion to telling Teresa's compelling story.

mALX1: Let me guess, Simplicia drives off all the rats from the Imperial Prison?

D.Foxy: Very observant again. Up until now Teresa has been alone and in alien territory (for her). So it has focused directly on her. Now that she has returned to her old stomping grounds of the Imperial City she is back on familiar ground (or is it really familiar at all?), and around people she knows. So now we can see some of the relationships she has, and how they will be affected by her change of character.

treydog: I watched Oceans 11 (the new one) while I was in the midst of writing this. At one point Don Cheadle's character makes a comment about how good it is to be working with "proper villains again". That was the inspiration for me to write the "city villain" comment. The city part just being to contrast her very woodsy appearance.



* * *

Not A Hero - 15 - You Can't Go Home Again


From what Simplicia had to say, no one in the city knew how Teresa had disappeared, or where she went to. She had simply vanished. Most had assumed that she had been hauled off to prison by the Imperial Watch. But after Volsinius had asked about Teresa, Simplicia had gone to the prison herself to see if she was there, only to be told that they had never arrested her. That led to darker speculations, and even Simplicia herself had begun to fear that Teresa had met her end in some dark alley.

It was late afternoon by the time Teresa left the elderly woman and made her way through the city to the Waterfront. She wanted to stay, and spend the entire day with Simplicia. To everyone in the city, even the other street urchins, Simplicia - Simplicia the Slow as they called her - was nothing but one more pile of human wreckage. But to Teresa there was no one in the world more important.

Still, she had things to do, Teresa thought. She needed to get back to her squat and dig up her mortar and pestle. Then she could start working on the ingredients she had gathered since leaving Chorrol.

In the past she always had to buy the alchemical ingredients she made her potions with. That, and only selling them to the Imperial City's underbelly, seriously limited the profit she made. Usually it was just enough to get her something to eat and pay off the local protection racketeers.

The Thieves Guild tried to stop the ruffians, she knew, but every time they squashed one gang of punks another sprang up in its place. In places like the Waterfront there was always someone desperate and ruthless enough to do anything to get what they wanted. That would never change.

Maybe now she would start selling her potions to that Breton woman in the Gilded Carafe instead, Teresa thought. She had always been nice when Teresa bought her supplies. So was the man at the Main Ingredient. Yes, Teresa thought, that would be just the thing.

Making her way through the city streets, Teresa was once again intensely aware of how the walls of the city seemed to press in around her. It felt so confined, she thought. All grey and hard, it reminded her of the prison cell. She wished she could be outside and in the forest again, where everything was so green and endless and full of life.

But wasn't this home? she thought, where she belonged?

As she entered the tunnel that led to the Waterfront, she started to wonder about that. Ever since she had come back, everything seemed so strange. The city had changed somehow. Become smaller, different. It was not the place she remembered, nor were its people.

By the time she exited the tunnel and was back out into the open air of the Waterfront, Teresa felt distinctly uncomfortable. She saw that the Marie Elena was back in port again as she walked along the docks. Returned from her latest expedition of piracy no doubt, Teresa thought. Everyone knew that her crew did not come by their 'trade goods' honestly, including the watch. If the latter could prove it the entire gang of cutthroats would be floating face down in the harbor. One thing the Empire did not go soft on was piracy.

She stopped then, drew the bow from her back and a string from one of her belt pouches. Looping one end of the flax string around the bottom nock of the bow, she then placed that end of the bow stave against the instep of her right foot. Taking the top nock of the stave with her left hand, she pulled it toward her while using her right hand to pull the center of the bow in the opposite direction. Leaning into it, she used all of her body to flex the yew far enough for her to fit the other end of the string around the horn of the top nock.

Finished, she returned the now ready bow to her back and walked on as casually as before. In the Elven Gardens walking with a strung bow would get the attention of the watch immediately. But here on the Waterfront no one paid any mind.

Some of the pirates were lounging around the dock next to their ship as Teresa walked by, one of them singing a dirty song about a lady from Wayrest. He stopped as she came near, and gave her a hard, appraising look. So did the other pirates. She noticed hands drifting toward sword hilts, and let her own drift to the arrow bag at her hip. No one said a word. Teresa gave back their stares, and did not flinch or hesitate as she walked by and further down the dock.

She breathed a sigh of relief once she was clear of them. Had she just stared down the worst band of killers on the docks? she thought. Was she mad? In the past she would have scampered off into the shadows as soon as they looked at her, not that they had ever paid her any heed before in the first place. She had never been worth their while. Not until today at least.

Things really have changed, Teresa thought. I have changed.

Turning down an alley off the docks, she made her way past a string of run down warehouses, taverns, and brothels. Then she was in the shanty town she knew all too well. Nothing more than a random sprawl of rickety wooden shacks, the air stank of urine, feces, and sweat. Still, it was better than the sewer, Teresa thought as she plunged into the maze of rambling buildings.

Finding the hovel she called home, she pushed aside the back door, which was nothing more than a few wooden boards nailed together and propped up against an opening in the wall. The light of a small fire illuminated the single messy room within, revealing two men. One was a skinny Breton, and the other a stocky but hard-looking Nord. The Nord immediately laid his hand on the unsheathed axe lying on the floor next to him, while the Breton slid down the wall away from where Teresa stood.

Damn! Teresa cursed silently at herself. She was so deep in her thoughts that she had not been paying attention. She had always peeked through the cracks in the walls to see if the shack was empty before she went in, she thought. You never knew who might decide to take the place over.

Without thinking, Teresa pulled the bow from her back. She did not reach for an arrow yet, but her other hand did drift in that direction. She stared directly into the eyes of the Nord, trying to gauge him. She could already see that the Breton was no threat. But the blond northerner looked to be a different story altogether.

"This is our shack," the Nord spat with a cold glare in his eyes. "Git out!"

"I used to live here," Teresa said evenly. "What happened to Geen-Rana?"

"I don' know no Green-Ran," the Nord stared back, hand drifting closer to his axe. "This place was empty when we found it. It's ours now, fair and square."

Teresa wondered how much of that was true, if any of it. Well, she thought, if Geen-Rana was dead, there was nothing she could do to help the Argonian now. Hopefully she had been more cautious than herself, and saw the interlopers first and simply decided to look elsewhere for a roof.

"Okay," she said, still staring at the Nord. "I'll just get my stuff and go."

"You do that," he said, patting the blade of his axe. "And don't get ideas, or I'll send you straight to Oblivion."

Teresa did not say a word, or even nod. Her heart was racing and her palms felt damp within the leather pads of her gauntlets. Still, she moved deeper into the shack, and without taking her eyes off the two, she used her free hand to pull up a loose floor stone against the back wall. She drew forth a small bag, really just a thin blanket folded over and tied off with string.

Teresa did not pause to look within it. She did not want to take her eyes off the Nord. She just hoped what meager belongings she possessed were still within. With what she came for in hand, she backed her way out the door and down the alley outside, until she was sure the two would not come after her. Then she collapsed in a trembling heap and wondered what on Nirn had gotten into her?

Not much to say, really, beyond my continued admiration of the quality. Only noticed a couple of missing indefinite articles- "a random sprawl" and "a skinny Breton..."

The thing that interests me is how each installment moves us forward and gives us additional background and insight, without ever going into a wholesale- "Teresa- This is Your Life" ramble that sacrifices plot for exposition. And you do it in such a way that you make it look easy- until one takes a closer look....

As to the assumed pun, I will explain my thinking- and show that too much reading of too many subjects can cause one to see connections that aren't really there. A villein was a specific sort of serf. In some situations, a villein who escaped from the land and made it to a city was free. Since Teresa escaped from the city to the land, thus achieving freedom....

Thank you again editor. The money will be in the usual account...



*shrugs* I just take the story from point A to point B and explain what Teresa is thinking about while the scenery goes by. If it is working, I suppose it is just the years of practice finally paying off. I have been doing this since I was in my teens after all.




I had no idea. Medieval European history has never been much of an interest to me. I think Europe was much more interesting in the Classical world. So I spend more time there.

:read: You have really hit a stride here. Another consistently wonderful story.

Delightfully fresh look at the underbelly of the Imperial City. You really brought the danger and despair alive.

I did have a word choice question here: "Most had assumed that she had been hauled off to prison by the Imperial Watch, but after Volsinius had asked about Teresa, Simplicia had gone to the prison herself to see if she were there, only to be told that they had never arrested her." Would 'was' be correct instead of 'were' here?

Delicate, but steady development of Teresa. Like D.Foxy, I was pleased to see the introduction of someone that provides a bit of emotional softness and connection to Teresa as Simplicia has done.

"Things really have changed, Teresa thought. I have changed." Yes, indeed.

From your previous story, yes I am sensitive to when and how our Teresa smiles - she does it so rarely, and almost never more than faintly.

Thank you for continuing to bring Teresa to us.

Thank you Acadian. After about 45 minutes of searching and finding conflicting answers or no answers, my best guess is that was is correct.

In the home stretch now. Only two more posts and Not A Hero will be finished.

Sorry for not posting in recent time. Real life is taking up too much of my spare time.

Your work is of excellent quality and does deserve praise. The way you weave the background detail and the thoughts of Teresa together is superb.
Great to see the right amount of Imperial city description popping up (i am a big svcker for description making the story come alive), wonderful !!

Just a question -
Has the story evolved from the way you originally wrote it?
Or are you just posting the 20,000 words in the same way you intended it?
The reason I ask is that the quality of the work is exceptionally high if no recent editing has taken place.

Just curious.

Cheers. :foodndrink:

Awesome as usual, and I hope when you reach the 21,000 words you will want to continue writing it, we are all getting attached to Teresa, to your writing.

A STERN WARNING TO YOU, SUB ROSA.

:stare:

I HOPE YOU ARE NOT GOING TO DO WHAT AUTHUR CONAN DOYLE DID TO SHERLOCK HOLMES, AND THROW YOUR CHARACTER OFF A CLIFF.

IF YOU DO SUCH A DASTARDLY THING I CAN PROMISE YOU THAT EVERY READER OF THIS THREAD WILL ARRIVE AT YOUR HOUSE THE NEXT NIGHT WITH TORCHES AND PITCHFORKS. AND I WILL BE LEADING THEM.

:P

Winter Wolf: I do a single last read-though of each chapter before I post it. I am only really changing a few things grammatically however. In a few cases I decided to enhance the descriptions. The Market District was like that. It went from one paragraph to two, as I wanted to show a greater contrast between it and the Elven Gardens, and get the point across that it was a melting pot.

As far as actual plot points or places of character development go, it is exactly the same as when I finished my 4th draft (after which I started posting it). I typically do at least 4-5 drafts for a story before I consider it done. There were several changes that happened during that process. For example the scene with Teresa investigating the Amulet of Kings was not added until the 3rd draft, when I realized I needed to show why it was important for her to smuggle it to Jauffre. Teresa starting out as a brunette and dyeing her hair red was not added until the 4th draft, as I felt I needed a stronger, more obvious physical transformation to accompany her emotional one.

mALX1: Thank you, plenty more coming after this.

D.Foxy: Back in my days of playing pen and paper RPGs we called that the "Angry Peasant Law". Basically it meant that mob of angry peasants with torches and pitchforks always beats the highest level character there is.


No worries mates. Not A Hero was actually never what I intended to write in the first place. It is only the first act of a larger story arc told in three acts. The stories I am presently working on - which I am calling Act II until I can come up with an actual title - are what I was originally inspired to put to pixels. When I was plotting out Act II I realized that I needed to firmly establish the main character first. So I wrote Not A Hero to do that, and it became Act I in a 3 part story. It worked out much better than I had ever hoped, as it not only lays a solid foundation for who and what Teresa is, but it even had the added bonus of highlighting a great deal of character development throughout the story to get her there. What every author hopes for really.

Act II currently has 11 major chapters mapped out (maybe more depending on how things work out), and introduces half a dozen new characters that will all play roles of varying importance in Teresa's life (one extremely so). I finished Chapter 1 in 8 pages, and am currently working on Chapter 2.

Act III will be the conclusion of the story arc. I have not mapped any of that out yet, but do have very clear goals and characters. However, I have been rethinking all of it and may go a completely different route. There is still plenty of time for that however, as I am only starting the second act.

* * *

Not A Hero - 16 - Hello Old Friend

After she had calmed her nerves, Teresa got back on her feet and made her way through the winding alleys that made up the shantytown until she finally came to a familiar shack. She hoped Methredhel was still living there, and this time she knocked on the door rather than simply barging in.

She heard low voices through the dilapidated walls, then footsteps, and finally saw a familiar pair of brown eyes staring at her through a crack in the boards.

"What do you want?" a cautious voice ventured through the door.

"Can't an old friend just stop by to say hello?" Teresa said with a faint smile. "It's me, Teresa."

"Teresa?" she heard the voice say with surprise. The sound of a bolt being pulled back came to her ears, and a moment later the door opened and Teresa was greeted by the sight of a brown-haired Bosmer woman, also dressed in leather and holding a bow in one hand. It was Methredhel, Teresa knew, and she felt a tremendous sigh of relief flow through her as the other wood elf caught her up into a warm hug.

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v90/subrosa_florens/oblivion/Oblivion140.jpg

"It is so good to see you again girl!" Methredhel exclaimed. "We thought you were dead."

"For a while I thought I was too," Teresa said in agreement as Methredhel let go of her and led her though the doorway. The other Bosmer wasted no time bolting the door behind her, and this time it was her roommate Adanrel, yet another Bosmer woman, who gathered Teresa up in a welcome hug.

Their shack was a simple, one-room affair, as were most of the hovels in the Waterfront shantytown. A long table sat near the door, with the hearth next to it. A single rattan bed sat in a corner on the opposite wall. A bedroll lay on the floor beside it, and a third was rolled up nearby. There was a chest that Teresa knew contained all of Methredhel and Adanrel's belongings, and a small cupboard for plates and pots. It was not much, but it was clean and free of vermin, unlike most of the other shacks of the Waterfront.

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v90/subrosa_florens/oblivion/Oblivion141.jpg

"What happened to you?" Adanrel asked, looking at Teresa in amazement. "You don't look a thing like yourself. Now you look more like Methredhel in all that leather."

"It's a long story," Teresa breathed. "Have either of you seen Geen-Rana?"

"Oh yes, she has been staying with Damian Magius," Adanrel said. "They have been quite the couple since you disappeared."

"You have not been back to your old squat have you Teresa?" Methredhel asked. "Because a real hard-case named Regner moved in there while you were gone."

"So I found out," Teresa sighed as she unstrung her bow and laid its stave against the wall. She felt relieved that her Argonian roommate was safe and sound, and hoped that her new love affair would work out for her. She deserved some happiness, Teresa thought.

"You went there?" Adanrel said in shock.

"I had to get my stuff," Teresa said, untying the blanket containing her belongings and spreading them out on the table before sitting down. A few coins, some empty potion vials, her mortar and pestle, a battered plate, cup, bowl, and assortment of eating utensils, and finally a painted woodcarving of a unicorn. Her entire life in the Imperial City was spread out on the little wooden table. There was certainly not much to show for it, Teresa thought.

"You went in there with Regner!" Methredhel exclaimed. "He's on the run from Skyrim. They say he killed two people there. Are you mad?"

"I had to get my things," Teresa said again, although looking at them now, they seemed like a pretty stupid thing to risk her life for. "I wasn't going to just leave it to him and that Breton."

"What happened to you?" Adanrel said, looking at Teresa as if she were a stranger. "You were never like this before."

Teresa shrugged. She could not explain it herself. Ever since she had met the Emperor the world had changed. No, she thought, she had changed. She was not sure how, or even what she had become. But it was certainly not who she used to be. That had been becoming increasingly clear ever since she had returned to the city.

"It's been a long day." Teresa said, feeling exhaustion creeping in. "Can I sleep here tonight?"

"Of course you can." Methredhel said emphatically now, laying a welcoming hand on Teresa's arm. "There is always room for an old friend."

"Thank you," Teresa said, the hint of a smile crossing her features. Then she looked the other Bosmer in the eyes and covered her hand with her own. "And thank you for what you taught me about using a bow. It saved my life."

Methredhel nodded, squeezing her hand in reply. Teresa could see the questions in the other Bosmer's eyes. Questions that she had herself, yet had no answers for. She was glad that Methredhel did not push for more.

They spent the rest of the evening talking about the old times, when they were younger. The more they talked, the more surreal it felt to Teresa. It was like they were talking about someone else, she thought. Someone Teresa had never known. Even Methredhel and Adanrel herself seemed like strangers. She knew them, remembered all the things they had done together. But none of it felt connected to her anymore.

She went to sleep early, feeling not only exhausted, but distinctly out of place. When dawn came she was already awake. Dressing as quietly as she could, she gathered up her meager belongings, strung her bow, and made her way to the door.

"You aren't coming back are you?" she stopped at the quiet sound of Methredhel's voice.

"I don't belong here anymore." Teresa breathed quietly, looking back at the small rattan bed where the other Bosmer lay.

"I know you can't talk about whatever it is that happened to you," Methredhel said. "But someday, if you can, I am a good listener."

"And a good friend too," Teresa said with the tiniest of smiles. "Shadow hide you both."

Then she was gone.

:read: Wonderful, once again. It must have been, because I counted three smiles from Teresa in this story, albeit faint ones. -_-

I've been meaning to compliment you on your machine-like control of story length near 1000 words. Yet, you seem to sacrifice nothing. I imagine that is a byproduct of experience - the ability to add and prune to the essential elements.

I perceive a melancholy quality to Teresa. I wonder if she will learn joy in the harsh world of Cyodiil?

Thank you for sharing Teresa with us.

This installment does a wonderful job of showing where Teresa has come from- and that she cannot go home again. It shows her heart and her awareness that she is someone else now. The ending brought a tear to my old doggie eyes.

ETA- Meant to include the joy I feel at knowing this is just the opening act. Stupid ADD.... Oh look, a chicken!