#also note that i feel i would like to say is his aversion to ophelia is early gender stuff too..
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gerrymike ¡ 3 years ago
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does your mike crew have psychosis? i’m asking because of that one bit in the most recent chapter where gerry says that ophelia gets to go insane and mike immediately shuts that down
ROIGHT the short answer here is thats very likely the Diagnosis. The long answer is wait hold on two seconds while i cite my sources id like to be academic about this. Cut bc itsa long boy. cw refs to paranoia institutional gaslighting Spiral typical content etc
i think preface should be that mike in canon (and by extension satg) is pretty mired in the spiral yeah. twisting deceits want me fish fear me. And i’m very much not the ideal person rn to be fully unpacking themes and implications and whatnot wrt TMA and mental illness but i think it’s safe to say that spiral = pretty direct allegory
and while it draws on real world stigma/perceptions of psychosis i think it’s good to keep the fiction/reality distinction (i.e. fantastical evil entity out to get you and convince you you’re out of your mind VS actual hallucinations). obviously they cannot at all be divorced from each other because of how fiction/reality affect, intertwine, and represent each other, but personally with like what i write id hesitate to directly conflate the two especially in my position
HOWEVER! On the part of YOU the reader. Yes valid interpretation re: Mike. I think definitely with his hot entity commodity status how people around him (parents, other adults, healthcare professionals) perceive his panic regarding the lichtenberg would go that route. Much like other victims of the spiral
For one, awful moment, I found myself frozen in a tug-of-war with whatever was inside that door, clinging desperately to that rope as it stretched away and vanished into blackness. But I was six, and felt myself starting to lose my footing and fall towards it, so I did the only thing I could: I let go, and I watched my most treasured possession disappear forever as the door closed behind it, and I ran back to bed. I told my parents, of course, but they didn’t believe me. They just thought I’d lost it, and was making up wild stories to cover it up. The wall was the wall again, and the picture of the old sailing boat was back where it should have been.
Sims, J. (2019). “MAG146: Threshold”, in The Magnus Archives. https://snarp.github.io/magnus_archives_transcripts/episode/146.html
mike’s parents in satg do try but with the nature of the Spiral down the road mike definitely feels the lasting effects of people not believing him. It’s part of what pushes him to be independent in his hunt for something to escape the lichtenberg (he’s tired of being told he’s mad, he’s tired of being told he’s NOT mad and a liar instead, he’s tired of talking to terrible adults, etc.)
When I was twelve, curled under my bed to escape the pounding of the rain against my window, the roll of thunder that just rattled my skull, I began to travel them once again. My hands ran down and along those jagged, discoloured lines, every branch, every turn, my nostrils full of ozone, my veins full of fear. And they didn’t stop. I knew where my scars ended, but… those I traced in the dark that night, they just went on and on and on, far beyond me and to somewhere that still flashed with that unspeakable white light. That was the night everything changed. Before it I was odd, certainly, probably traumatised, and gripped with a terror of storms, but after that night, things were different. I think, looking back, that was when I called it. That was when it caught my scent.
Sims, J. (2018). “MAG91: The Coming Storm”, in The Magnus Archives. https://snarp.github.io/magnus_archives_transcripts/episode/091.html
and i think in his early teenhood when he’s still new to the evil lightning man thing. hes young and scared enough to go to his parents which leads to going in and out of facilities and talking to people who lets be real dont have his best interests at heart. and psychiatric/therapeutic malpractice leaves a mark on the psyche for sure; messes with one’s self perception and esteem to. A Degree. More on that in further chapters
Oh, other doctors did, did they? Mm. Well, that sounds reasonable, let me just have a look at your case file here, a gander at the old medical history. Medication, diagnosis, medication, oooh, hospitalisation. Hm. Trouble is it’s all lies, isn’t it? Because I’m your doctor now, Doctor David, and I say these people, these ‘professionals’, had no idea what they’re talking about because, well, I understand what they simply didn’t. You made it all up, didn’t you? What was it? A plea for attention, trying so desperately to make the world notice you?
Sims, J. (2020). “MAG177: Wonderland”, in The Magnus Archives. https://snarp.github.io/magnus_archives_transcripts/episode/177.html
so. Combination being gaslit by professionals and constantly hounded by manifestation of madness. understandably one would be touchy about implications re: Ophelia even when theyre not targeted
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unto-myself-together ¡ 4 years ago
Text
From Dusk to Dawn, ch 2 (ESO fanfic)
Content warnings for this specific chapter: references to sex. Brief descriptions of violence. Occasional light cursing (i.e. damn, ass. It’s very infrequent though)
Author notes (a lot of notes, sorry!!):
Previous chapters: Chapter 1
Author notes (skip to the squiggly lines--> ~~~~~~ if you want to jump straight into the story)
You can also read the story on my Archive of Our Own Account here:
https://archiveofourown.org/works/23343163/chapters/64680022#workskin
Lots of notes here (and I apologize for that. But this chapter had a lot of stuff going on. There are a couple of explanations for anyone who is interested/confused by something that went on in this chapter.):
Hey everyone. I really really hope you all have been doing much better during these troubled times than I have. I have an anxiety disorder (as well as a couple of other things and chronic medical conditions) and let’s just say that this does not exactly mix well with a worldwide pandemic. Let me just say that if it wasn’t for ESO and my ESO guildies, I don’t know where I’d be.
I love your comments. All of them. I have been coming back just to read them again and again, and when I get the chance I want to respond to each and every one of them. You all are so beautiful; thank you… And thank you to the person who left that extremely lovely message in my ask box on Tumblr! I’m not sure how to let you know, how to respond in a way that you will see (are you still around?), but if you can see this: I love you and I loved, loved, loved your message!
I missed writing. A lot. But I have so tired lately that I was having difficulties writing this next chapter. I finally got it out and I wanted to share it with all of you. This one is a bit more lighthearted than the last (we’re going to go on a rollercoaster here, with lighthearted chapters intermixed with not-so lighthearted chapters). I also changed the tags a bit.
Ravenwatch and sexuality: It’s actually canon that House Ravenwatch has “naked parties”. I kid you not. Gwendis has dialogue during the quest where you crown the new King/Queen of Rivenspire; if you meet her upstairs in Shornhelm’s castle, she’ll say something like:“If this were a Ravenwatch party, none of these people would be wearing clothes”. Please note that this is a “missable conversation”;if you do not catch Gwendis before completing the crowning quest, you will never get to see her say it again.
Even if ZOS later decides to erase these lines, they can’t erase them from history because I have recordings of it :D In all honesty? I actually appreciated this little side note;I think it adds more complexity to their characters. Given their rules about consent regarding blood giving, their parties are probably fully consensual too.And there really isn’t anything wrong about adults having consensual parties. Besides, vampires have always been a little associated with sex and sexuality, so I don’t think it’s really that surprising.
Kalin’s comment is a reference to their parties. But he purposely worded it in a way that he knew Elyssa wouldn’t understand: with a reference to a Dunmer tavern-brothel. No, Ophelia doesn’t actually participate in their parties (having grown up in this place, I think it would be awkward for all people involved); instead she usually goes to visit relatives and comes back to help with the clean-up. That’s not gonna stop Kalin from teasing her anyways. Speaking of Kalin, I really think he didn’t need to be half-naked and lounging on their dining room table during their mealtime. Just saying: I feel like we were interrupting a little more than just “mealtime”.
Now, whether or not Verandis and his "children" have relations with each other when they keep referring to each other by familial names ("father", "sister") is a different story; the idea makes me uncomfortable. But I'm fairly certain Kalin (who is not "a family member") and mortal guests can get some action with the vampires.
In regards to the mortal servants: I’m sorry, ZOS. I don’t care how much magic is pumping through Tamriel’s veins; you will never convince me that two servants (Kalin and Estelle) can feed a household of five vampires once a night every night (even more than five vampires if you save the two people during the Rivenspire quests). Even with magical “produce more blood” potions, I felt the need to add at least two more mortals to the household…I hope readers don’t mind…
It did get me thinking: how does Verandis find these people? I doubt he just puts up an ad onto the Shornhelm bulletin board. Can you imagine? “Help wanted. Must have lots of blood and no aversion to pointy objects in your neck” (I’m kidding). Melina Cassel’s comments in her hireling mails implies that Verandis doesn’t force the servants to give blood as a part of their contract (she makes mention that Estelle giving blood goes “beyond the call of duty”). But there probably is a preference for those who aren’t averse to parting with a bit of their life force every now and then. In Kalin’s case, I’m like 99% convinced his half naked Dunmer self does it because he thinks it’s hot.
I actually had a mock up done of the Castle Ravenwatch basement/lower floor on the PTS using Daggerfall Overlook. I’m not sure if anyone would be interested enough in it for me to post a pic of it though. (yes, I know.  I saw the Ravenwatch Prologue and I don’t care)
I really hope ZOS comes up with a house crest for House Ravenwatch soon; otherwise I will have to make my own…
I know it may not seem like it from this chapter, but I actually have fallen madly in love with Fennorian. But it doesn’t technically appear during the Rivenspire questline, and I actually want Elyssa’s first time meeting him to be during her visit to Western Skyrim and doing something like the Bound in Blood quest.
The goat: It’s more of an inside joke I have with myself. When I was going through the Rivenspire questline for the first time, I noticed that there’s a goat that appears behind Ravenwatch Castle. At first, I thought it coincided the appearance and disappearance of Kalin. So I made a joke to myself that Kalin IS the goat. (Later I found out the goat’s appearance has nothing to do with whether or not Kalin the NPC is around. Still, I thought it would be funny to poke at that idea in the fic).
I have a problem with the Stormhaven storyline and this idea that you have to have this specific potion made with the Dream Shard just to avoid dreams. For the purposes of this story, I’m going to re-write that part so that the Dream Shard created potion is only to prevent Vaermina’s magic from interfering with your dreams specifically, and that there are likely plenty of other alchemy potions (sleep potions) that could prevent dreams (but not necessarily prevent Vaermina or her followers from affecting your sleep or giving you nightmares anyways). I just wanted to make that distinction.
While I wouldn’t doubt Vaermina might torment the Vestige in their sleep as a payback, I doubt the Daedric Prince would care enough to do it constantly (just the feeling that I got when I finished the Stormhaven questline was that Vaermina wasn’t too perturbed by being thwarted. Her “imprisoning” the Vestige in her realm was half-hearted as well; you could easily leave. Like she had much bigger fish to fry than you).
In regards to House Ravenwatch and sexuality again: I wanted to state more bluntly that No, I do not think the vampiric family members have sex with each other because they keep referring to each other as "brother" and "sister" (and to Verandis as "father") in canon. Yes, I know they're probably not ACTUALLY related to each other, but still. Instead, I think they have rampant naked parties with fully willing fully adult mortal participants. Let's be honest: there's got to be at least as many mortals in Tamriel who think vampires are hot as there are people in our world that think vampires are hot...Also. You know. Kalin. Half naked. On the table. Just saying.
PLEASE NOTE: Elyssa Arboretum is NOT the actual name of my character. I changed her last name for this story because...well....I'm a little shy. If you ever meet someone in game that has a name similar but not exact, it MIGHT be me. I usually like being on my own, as social situations can cause me great stress (especially if they're strangers). I am so sorry, and I greatly appreciate your understanding...
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She was staring at a wall.
….
…….
To be fair, it was a very nice wall.
…
….
….Although it did take her more than a moment’s time to realize she was staring at it sideways.
…
…And even longer to realize that she was staring at it sideways because she was lying down.
Groaning out of partial frustration, Elyssa heaved herself into a sitting position.
A soft bed and warm blankets were there to greet her, and they were inviting enough that she was sorely tempted to just go back to sleep.
But the longer she sat there, the faster the memories of the previous days nagged at her:
High Rock.
Blood fiends.
A plot to conquer the entirety of Rivenspire by a grieving and spiteful Breton noble.
The usual.
….
……She had to know what time it was.
Covers flung wide, she jumped out of bed.  Or tripped, rather; a creak in her back found her eagerness a bit disagreeable.   And it took a bit rubbing out her muscles to get her poor back to stand up straight.
But she hurried to make her way downstairs, whether her sore back liked it or not, when she heard the echoes of a conversation.
Gwendis and Melina were both there in the main hall.  Gwendis was literally lounging on top of her coffin, her arm lazily hanging over her eyes as if she meant to sleep like that.
Melina was at the table, toying with an array of colorful runestones.
“Good morning, Elyssa,” Melina cheerfully greeted her as she approached.
“Morning, Melina.  Morning Gwendis.”
Gwendis only gave a grunt in response.
Elyssa took a spot next to Melina, watching her as she carefully examined one rune at a time before placing them into different, colorful piles.
“Did you sleep well?”  Melina asked, frowning and squinting closer to her own hand when she noticed the rune she held had its surface defaced.
“Better than well.  I think this was the best sleep I’ve had since…it’s got to have been weeks...I feel fantastic…”
Melina chuckled a little.  “Well if you get such wonderful sleep in our home, perhaps you should stay with us then!  At least, for a while.  We get so few guests; I find it a little exciting to have someone new with us.  And, provided you’re still interested, I’d love the opportunity to show you a few basic enchanting techniques.  You know…when all this…ah, bloodfiend business is over.”
Elyssa perked up with a grin.  “I think I’d really like that.  And maybe you could take a look at that book I got, the one I told you about?  It really doesn’t make a lick of sense to me, and it would be great if someone could translate it into something more ‘beginner level’.”
“Oh of course, dear. I’ll certainly give it a try when we’re all a little less pre-occupied…”
“Wake me up when the world’s ending,” Gwendis moaned, still lounging on her perch.
“Is she all right?” Elyssa asked, leaning towards Melina.
“Oh she’s fine.  Just cranky after scouting out half of Rivenspire for Adusa.  She’ll be better after she gets some rest….”
Melina’s eyes narrowed at Gwendis.  “She’d feel even better if she actually bothered to go inside her coffin instead of sleeping on the hard stone lid...”
“That requires getting up…” Gwendis complained.
Melina gave a sigh, then went back to her rune sorting.
But Elyssa continued to stare at Gwendis, lost in thought.
“Do vampires dream?”  She asked, absentmindedly.
“Of course we do,” Melina replied. “My favorite dreams involve handsome men, coming to sweep me off my feet and take me far away to their extravagant and elaborate castle where we watch the stars and raise our nineteen adopted children together…”
“Which, for Melina, is nineteen too many,” Gwendis chimed in with a chuckle.
“Oh hush you.  If you’re too tired to lift a coffin lid than you’re too tired to make fun of my fantasies.”
“Do you really want nineteen children?”  Elyssa asked.
“Well…” She started with a bit of a grimace, “Maybe not quite THAT many….But I do want at least a child or two.  I adore children, they can be so sweet sometimes…”
She stared with melancholy as she traced the face of a beautiful rune.
“Never making assumptions….never judging you…”  She continued, solemnly.
“Breaking all the furniture in the house,” Gwendis remarked with a more lighthearted air.
“I suppose they can also be quite destructive too,” Melina gave out a little laugh.  “But what about you, Elyssa?  Have you ever thought about children?”
Elyssa made a face. “I think my horse is enough of a handful…”
She straightened up in a panic when she remembered her horse.
“Wait, my horse!  I put her around back in that shed place like Ophelia told me to, but I forgot to ask: was that really okay?  What if the bloodfiends got to her?  Should I go check on her?”
Melina patted her hand reassuringly just as she stood.
“Don’t fret there, dear.  The bloodfiends tend to lean away from anything that doesn’t smell like food, and our scent is all over these grounds.  It wards the little monsters away from our beautiful castle.”
Elyssa sat back down out of relief.
“Besides,” Melina added, “Our beloved little goat would have been eaten a long time ago if it were otherwise.”
“That goat!” Elyssa groaned. “I mean, speaking of kids and destruction: your goat wouldn’t stop headbutting me as I was trying to take off my horse’s tack, and I was very nearly tempted to kick him straight into your lake.  How do you get him to stop?”
“Elyssa!”  Melina chastised with a cluck. “That’s no way to treat Kalin.”
“Yes but—“ Elyssa cut off as those words wormed their way into her head.  “Wha….”
She turned to Melina, face contorted in a mixture of utter confusion with a touch of horror.  “What?  But I thought Kalin was the name of your…”
“Our resident Weregoat, yes.”
“Your resident… what?”
“Were.  Goat.” Melina said with precise articulation.
Elyssa stared at her as if she’d grown an extra head.  “You’re pulling my leg.”
“Me?” Melina asked, offended and with her hand firmly at her heart.  “Why I’d never!”
That did nothing to convince Elyssa.
“Gwendis…” Elyssa sighed, turning to the lounging vampire.  “Is there such thing as Weregoats?“
Gwendis lazily lifted her arm to give her a side eye.  “I mean, I think you should really focus on apologizing to Kalin for thinking about throwing him into the lake…Ya got some priorities you need to sort here…”
Elyssa flushed in embarrassment.  She’d never heard of a weregoat before.  But then, she’d never heard of friendly vampires until just yesterday.  And someone did tell her once that werebears were an actual thing…
“All…All right…” Elyssa said, slowly.  Not quite fully prepared to believe.  “Then when do weregoats transform?”
“Why, none other than the evening of every second Morndas of the month.  Which, I believe, was yesterday.  Is that not correct, Gwendis?”
“Yeee-ep.”  Gwendis replied, lazily letting the word hang in the air.
“Okay,” Elyssa said, a little less confident in herself.  “But why a goat, of all things?”
“Please,” Melina said, “Do I look like Hircine? For all we know, the Daedric Prince of the Hunt punishes those who scorn him with this…awful curse.  Such poor people might be used as fodder in the Prince’s hunting games.  All the more reason why he needs to stay, safe and sound, with us.”
Elyssa gave Melina a critical eye.  The vampire had been a bit overdramatic in the way she’d said “awful curse”, but otherwise it seemed she was serious.
Gwendis, likewise, seemed fairly serious too, even as she kept lounging on her coffin lid.  
Elyssa sighed, defeated.
“I guess I really should apologize to Kalin for getting irritated with him…”
“If you still don’t believe us, you can check out his tail,” Gwendis chipped in, “Ask if he’ll drop his pants and show you his hindquarters.”
Elyssa flushed red, and was about to reply that she would not, under any circumstances, ask to see the Dunmer’s posterior.
But a strangled noise brought her attention back to Melina, and her eyes narrowed in as the lady vampire struggled to keep a straight face.
“You…” Elyssa accused.  “You both are pulling my leg after all!”
Melina released the laughter she had apparently been holding in, and Gwendis was happy to chuckle alongside her.
“Come on, Mel,” Gwendis accused, “We had something here.”
The other’s laughter died down to a grin.
“Oh but Gwendis, I think you went a little too far with that one.  If she honestly asked Kalin to bare himself…you know how he gets…He’d probably acquiesce.”
“But that was the best part about it.” Gwendis grinned back.
“Well I don’t think it’s very nice,” Elyssa grumbled.
“Come on.” Gwendis said “We’re just teasing ya a bit.  A little hazing just to check if you’re good with our House and all.”
“Besides,” Melina added.  “It was positively adorable that you were willing to believe in weregoats.”
“Yeah.  I’m just so gullible aren’t I?”  Elyssa replied bitterly, remembering what the Count had told her last night about being a little too trusting of people.
“Come now, dear.” Melina said, patting her hand.  “We’re sorry.  Truly.  And how about I put my money where my mouth is and give you extra runestones for your next shipment as a little apology gift?”
“I guess…”  She replied, trying to refrain from any signs that free stuff had indeed perked up her mood just slightly.  
She found out she didn’t need to put much effort into that; the Count himself emerged from his study to interrupt.
“Good morning, Elyssa.  May I have a word with you?”  The statement was short, sweet, and a bit curt. Although that could have just been his High Elven accent.
“Do something naughty while we were gone, did ya?” Gwendis grinned at her just as Elyssa got up to join him.
“Wha—No!  Of course not!”
Gwendis’ chuckle seemed to almost follow her as she joined Verandis by the bookshelves.  This time, he forewent a book in favor of leaning against the shelves, his arms crossed while he regarded her carefully.
“Did you sleep well?”
“Like a rock.”  She stretched out her back a little with a wince. “I even woke up feeling a little like a rock.”
“Probably because you spent the better part of the night sleeping on my floor.  If I hadn’t decided to venture upstairs to dabble with a little more alchemy, you’d have woken up there too.  Why didn’t you drink the potion while you were in bed?”
“I did!” Elyssa cheerfully replied, holding a finger up, “But then I thought it would be a good idea to fetch a little more wine to wash it down.”
His eyebrows rose as he gave her a pointed look
“I mean,” Elyssa continued, her hands dropping to her side again, “At the time it seemed like a good idea.  Obviously it’s not such a good idea after the fact.”
The Count stared at her critically for a good while before he closed his eyes with a sigh.  When he re-opened them, he was back to contemplative again.
“You’re lucky you suffered no serious injuries; you could have easily gained yourself a concussion.  It seems the Divines do more than simply gift you powerful light magic: it appears they’re also the only things that are keeping you alive.”
“Hey!”
“Which brings me to the reason I called you here.  I took the liberty of making a full batch of sleeping draught for you.  The bottles are on a tray upstairs labeled with their purpose and your name.”
“Really?”  Elyssa’s face lit up; the potential to actually get decent sleep was literally being handed to her.  “Thank you so much! I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it.  This stuff is fantastic; I didn’t dream at all after drinking it.”
“Which is something I need to warn you of.  As you’ve discovered for yourself, the draught places you in a very deep sleep.  Too deep to dream…and most certainly too deep to be easily roused.  If someone were to grab you or hurt you, you will likely not awaken.  Make sure to never take a dose unless you are absolutely certain of your safety.”
She was much less enthusiastic about this caveat; inn rooms were expensive, and camping was often inevitable for a lot of places.
“So…I probably shouldn’t drink any if it’s just me and my sleeping roll out in the open...”
“I would severely recommend against that.  Instead, if you absolutely cannot sleep and cannot find a safe haven, take a quarter dosage.  It will not rid you of your dreams, but it will help keep you from a restless night without sacrificing your ability to respond to potential threats.”
She gave him a wry smile.  “Aaaaand let me guess; I’ll have to come back to you every time I run out, won’t I?  Should I start looking for a house in Rivenspire?”
He waved the questions away.  “No need.  I’ve written down the recipe for you.   Even if you do not feel comfortable brewing it yourself, you need only take the instructions to any community’s resident alchemist.  It’s straightforward enough that any one of them should be able to provide it for you.”
She nodded and mimicked his stance to recline against the bookshelves, albeit from the opposite end.   Silence hung in the air, and he was still regarding her carefully.
“…That’s not all you called me here for.  Is it?”  Elyssa finally spoke up.
“No, it’s not.”  Verandis sighed.  She could tell from his very tone he was contemplating his words carefully. “Elyssa…have you considered spending time in Wayrest for a while?  There’s a flower festival that happens every year around this time, I believe.  I can only vouch for what I’ve seen from afar, but it’s does seem a rather popular event…”
She stared at him incredulously.  “We’re in the middle of a situation where bloodfiends and vampires are trying to take over the entire province…”
“Indeed.  And we have more than enough people here to handle it.”
She winced back as if he had struck her.  ‘We don’t need you’ was the unspoken implication.  
“Oh?  Am I a burden to you now?” She spat back bitterly.
“Child—“
“So what that I’m young?  That I have nightmares, and that you found out about them. Now I’m suddenly too pathetic to be of any use to you, is that right?”
“Listen to me—“
“No, you listen to me!  What was all that stuff you told me last night?  How it was okay to have weaknesses?  I’m grateful you gave me potions to help with my sleep, but I’m not worthless just because I need them!  And you!”
She pointed an accusing finger at him.
“You have no right to order me out of Rivenspire like this!  You aren’t my parent.  You aren’t my Emperor.  You’re not even the King of Rivenspire.”
She could tell, from the way his face perceptively changed, that the last statement hit a mark.  But she was too angry to care.
“No.  I’m going to stay right here. I’m going to help defeat Baron Montclair.  I’m gonna fight a whole bunch of bloodfiends to reach him…” She stared him down, fists clenched at her side, “And there’s not a damn thing you can do to stop me.”
He stared back at her, calmly watching for an indication that she was finished.
“Elyssa…”  When he finally spoke, it was soft, slow, and soothing. “I do not believe I ever said you were worthless or pathetic.”
“And yet you’re ordering me to go off prancing at a flower festival.”
“I’m not ordering you to do anything, child.  I’m merely making a suggestion.  A suggestion based on what I’ve seen and what you’ve told me…You need a moment to relax and recover.  One cannot keep shouldering so many burdens without cracking underneath their pressures.”
“But I’m also needed here.  Back at Shornhelm, you said I had powerful light magic.  Better than most.”  She reminded him.   “And that I could be a great help in all this, since we’re fighting people whose very skin cracks under the light…”
“And, to an extent, I stand by those words.  Light magic is notoriously tricky to learn compared to the other elements, and yet it seems to come to you as easily as breathing does.  This is unheard of, particularly for someone at your age.  There are those who would even go so far as to call you a prodigy, myself included.”
The unexpected praise took a little of the edge off her rage.
“But you’re still inexperienced, and it’s painfully obvious you have not had any formal training in combat; your footwork is sloppy and you leave far too many openings for your opponent to take advantage of.  This might not be particularly risky when dealing with mindl0ess bloodfiends, creatures which have very little ability to strategize.  But the full-fledged vampires in Montclair’s army won’t hesitate to use that against you.  Furthermore, why aren’t you using a staff?”
She straightened up with pride.  “Swords are cool.”
He paused as if this was not the answer he was expecting.
“A staff would make a tremendous improvement on your magicka flow.”  He continued on with the same tone of voice.  He had, apparently, elected to ignore her statement. “You might even see an additional threefold improvement in the manifestation of your abilities.”
“But it would leave me wide open.  Greatswords help me guard against blows…”
“And so can staves…”
He walked over to retrieve his own firestaff that had been waiting in the corner for him.  Holding it out for her to look at, he gestured to its components.
“A typical battlestaff is made with combat in mind, and part of that involves the possibility that you will need to block a blow if your opponent finds a way to come within reach.  You can see here how my own weapon has its wood reinforced with a layer of metal.  Furthermore, are the multiple runes embedded into its spine…”
His finger traced over the weapon.  As if in response to its owner’s command, several symbols glowed across the length of it, brightly shining for a brief moment before settling back to normal.
“These, too, are designed with its protection in mind.  And with the mind of maintaining consistent magicka flow.  A staff that can no longer provide a steady resonation with its owner’s power is not only useless, but dangerous.  Such a weapon risks a catastrophic explosion if the user was not careful; thus, the important of the runes.  And as for its bladed tip…”
He gestured to the very top of the staff, in which the blade has been sharpened to fine edge.
“It is not unusual for many staff artisans to include a bladed tip in their work.  It does nothing to impair the staff’s traditional function and offers the advantage to utilize it as a make-shift spear, should the need require it.”
He set the staff aside back in its designated corner.
“Staves may not be as….”  He gave her an indulgent smile “…flashy as some other weapons, but they are nonetheless perfectly viable, and adaptable to changing situations on the battlefield.”
Elyssa grumbled, unimpressed.  “First you order me out of the region, now you’re ordering me to change my weapon—“
“Just another suggestion, Elyssa.  A suggestion,” The Count interrupted with wry smile.  He went to return to his books once again.
“As you say, Father.”  She mockingly shot back.  She waited for a moment to see if he’d react to that, if only just a little bit. But her frustration grew a tad when it was clear he was utterly unfazed by the title, continuing on in his books without so much as a raised eyebrow.
She grumbled again, and turned to leave the library.
“And please do not forget to eat before you leave, my daughter.” He called after her.
She froze in the doorway, and took a moment to glance back at him; her face full of surprise.
His reading was as focused as it always was, but he did pause to look up when he noticed her watching.
“Something wrong?”  He asked, and the very end of his mouth seemed to twist ever so slightly in a smile that almost looked….devious.
“N-no…” She replied shakily, the surprise lining her face beginning to tinge just slightly with mortification.
She thought the damned vampire elf would be too serious to give much of a reaction, let alone throw her comment back in her face.
“Then by all means: do try to make me proud out there.” He turned the page and returned to his books, still with that damnable little smile.
“I---“ Elyssa closed her mouth almost as soon as she’d opened it, before she said anything she might later come to regret, and decided it was far better to just turn around and walk away.
She could hear Gwendis’ muffled, gentle laughter beside her as she passed the coffins, and it only made her more determined to try and keep the red from her face from showing; it was likely most of the vampiric members of the household had overheard.
Melina, too, seemed to struggle with her own smile as Elyssa passed her.
“Oh,” Melina said. “I believe Ophelia made some honey bread this morning, if that pleases you, dear sister.”
“Shut up.”  Elyssa muttered back, and made haste for the guest room before either of them could comment further.
She ignored the tray of alchemy bottles that had been set aside for her on the table, deciding she could figure out the logistics of safely storing them in her pack later.  Once safely within the walls of her temporary bedroom, she made a beeline for her gear.
She was quickly getting used to putting it on; the intricacies that went into the chainmail underside and the straps that accompanied the plate outer layer did not seem to trouble her as much as it did weeks ago.
Her feet brought her to stand in front of the mirror, admiring her work.   She looked almost like a real soldier.
Honorary member of the Lion Guard, Elyssa Arboretum.  
The memory of the guard announcing this while offering the suit of tailored armor played in her head.  It was to be expected: in spite of all the things she had (somehow) managed to accomplish, she wasn’t actually a soldier.  She had no training in their regiment…nor was she even technically a citizen of High Rock.  
‘You’re footwork is sloppy and you leave too many openings’
‘It seems the Divines do more than simply gift you powerful light magic: it appears they’re also the only things that are keeping you alive’
These new words began to rotate in her head, churning into doubts.
Most of her opponents, thus far, had either been werewolves overcome by their animalistic desires, nature corrupting spirits, mindless zombies, or clumsy bandits and disorganized cultist members…None of them had combat styles that could be comparable to word “finesse”.  So her usual method of brute forcing her way with powerful spears of light magic before swinging her greatsword around in a haphazard manner had always worked out.  Tactics, strategy, and footwork were never things she ever thought about on a regular basis.
Even with Angof the Gravesinger...he almost seemed like the more she fought with him, the more he just…gave up. As if his motivation to defeat her was shriveling away like the very vines he failed to grow.  Most of his necromantic abilities didn’t stand a chance against the element of light; she barely even needed to concentrate to sweep the floor clear of his zombies.  They faded to dust almost as soon as she touched them with even the dimmest glow of her power.  And that wasn’t even mentioning the fact that she had plenty of help at her side at the time…
….
...What if she’d just been lucky so far in her opponents?
That all of her “deeds” were nothing more than the culmination of her brute forcing her own “prodigy-like” magic and having the “Gods’ luck” on her side?
…..
….Was she actually making a difference?
She struck a pose in the mirror, hoping to look impressive decked out in her armor…but her rounded cheeks and short stature did nothing to wipe away the traditional, youthful appearance of a Breton.
Why couldn’t she have inherited at least a little of her Imperial father’s more chiseled features?
She stuck her tongue out at herself, and was greeted with an even more childish sight as a result.  Fully frustrated, she grabbed her pack and stuck a few of her things in it.
She frowned at the alchemy bottles; it was times like these that she wished she had a bigger protective bottle case in her pack.  She was grateful that he made her so much, but there was just a few too many to fit.
And she was hungry.
…She huffed, and decided she’d have to figure out the problem of the bottles later.
As she made her way downstairs, she caught sight of Gwendis and Melina chatting at the dining table; Gwendis finally appeared to have made it off her coffin.  Elyssa was almost tempted to throw a teasing comment at her for that.
Further downstairs was the basement level.
She’d been told it was always kept locked, mostly so that the household (both vampire and servant) could have a place of privacy away from any visiting guests.  The main kitchen was down there, however, and so she found herself knocking at the basement door.
“Why good morning to you, Elyssa!”  The cheerful face of an older, gray haired Imperial woman greeted her.
“Good morning, Ophelia.  Melina told me you have some honey bread all made up?”
“I do.  I do indeed; my lady must have smelled it from the hall.  Come in, sweetie, and I’ll cut you a few slices.”
The basement of Ravenwatch castle was, perhaps, even more homely than its main hall.  Reminiscent of the guest suite, there were no gargoyle statues or eclectic furnishings (save for the two coffins in the center of the room, one of which had to be Melina’s).  A roaring fireplace lit up the place brighter than the other rooms, perhaps for the benefit of the servants as they had their own separate room nearby.
Workstations filled with alchemy ingredients and enchanting components lined the walls.  A mysterious door to an even deeper cellar was in the far corner (she was told it was strictly forbidden to anyone not of the House; and that only made her slightly more curious about it).  Finally, there was a full kitchen to the side; much nicer than the kitchenette of the upstairs guest suite.
Ophelia wasn’t the only servant awake; the others were out and about as well.
The Breton, Estelle, was by the fire, working on some sort of sewing.  She was the only one Elyssa hadn’t formally met; they told her she was of a skittish disposition, particularly around strangers.  From what was mentioned, the Count had found and rescued her from bandits who had badly abused her.  Until she got used to a new person, it was advised for that individual to leave her alone unless absolutely necessary.
Anise, a Bosmer, was at the nearby dining table, a table that was a much smaller twin to the grander one of the main hall.  She….definitely looked like she was still asleep, her small head propped up by her arms at the table.  Narcolepsy was something Ophelia had mentioned; apparently Anise had trouble finding someone to hire her in a ‘traditional’ job because of her condition.  But the household wasn’t perturbed by the idea of narcolepsy, and had hired her practically on the spot the moment she revealed she was perfectly comfortable with the idea of serving vampires.
Ophelia herself was busy cutting an impressively large portion of an equally impressively large loaf of sweet smelling bread.  Elyssa recalled that when she had previously asked what the Imperial thought about living here, the older woman had merely scoffed.  For Ophelia, it was just tradition; her family had served House Ravenwatch for a handful of generations.  She had literally grown up in the castle.  So, naturally, she was quite fine with it all.  
Kalin, one of the ones Elyssa had spoken to the most (but ironically knew the least about), was lounging about at the wall near the kitchen, eyeing her carefully.  The only information she had on the Dunmer was that he was the oldest and longest serving of all the mortals who stayed there.
“So our guest yet lives…”  He said, that slow sardonic drawl of his hanging in the air. “Do tell; how does it feel knowing you survived a night in a vampire’s stronghold?”
“Got better sleep here than in most inn rooms.” She responded, grinning. “You all seem to get along really well with each other.”
He laughed.  “Indeed….we’re quite….close with each other…”
“Kalin,” Ophelia warned.
“Some of us ….closer…than others.”
“Kalin.”
“You might even say it’s a regular Ebony Flask around here--”
Ophelia banged her knife down flat with a loud clunk, staring him down with a none-too pleased grimace.
“What’s an Ebony Flask?” Elyssa asked, looking back and forth between the two of them.
“Now you see?  She’s only going to start asking more questions…” Ophelia said.
“What…Is it something bad?”
“Not at all…” Kalin continued, an exceptionally wolfish grin lining his face. “Ophelia is only upset because sometimes even she—“
“That’s it!”  Ophelia pointed her knife at him from afar. “You. Out of my kitchen!”
“My work here is done…” Kalin stated in monotone, impish grin still on his lips as he strolled out the basement doors.
He held it open for Gwendis, who had found her way downstairs.
“Gwendis!”  Elyssa approached her “Kalin said it’s like a regular Ebony Flask around here; what does that mean?”
Whatever emotion Gwendis’ face had before vanished as she stared off into the distance with pursed lips.  She took a deep breath through her nose…
….Then turned and walked right back through the basement doors again.
“Wha-Gwendis?!”
“Never you mind that, sweetie.”  Ophelia interjected with an almost strangled voice.  “Why don’t you come and have some breakfast?  I made you some eggs and bacon too; I think you could use the protein, going out to fight as you do.  Might even put a little meat on those bones.”
Melina was next to come through the doors, clutching her satchel of runes and yawning all the while. And Elyssa immediately abandoned her breakfast plate to jump on the opportunity.
“Melina!  Kalin talked about an ‘Ebony Flask’.  What does he mean by that?”
Melina paused mid yawn, a curious expression forming on her face.
“Oh Elyssa…” She sighed.  “I’m afraid I’m much too tired to have this conversation.  We can have this talk after I’ve taken my rest…”
“My lady, I must protest!” Ophelia exclaimed.
Melina gained a rather mischievous smile at Ophelia’s outburst. “Very well.  We can have this talk after I’ve taken my rest AND after Ophelia has gone to bed.”
“My lady, please.”
Elyssa grinned as Melina gave her a little wink.  Seeing that, Ophelia’s protestations started to die down into more of a sputter.
“Herding cats around here…” Elyssa could hear Ophelia mutter under her breath as the older woman re-doubled her cleaning efforts. “Some days, I swear…”
But Elyssa was far more interested in what Melina was doing: heading towards one of the stone coffins in the main area of the room.  
Melina caught sight of her following close behind.
“Curious, are we?” She asked with a slightly amused smile.
“I just want to see what’s in it.” Elyssa beamed back at her.
“What might you think is in it?” Melina cocked her head slightly.
“I…”  Elyssa tried to think of all the vampire stories she knew.  Which wasn’t very helpful. She knew they supposedly slept in coffins, but she never really heard any stories about what they slept with. “…Jewels?”
The lady vampire laughed. “I’m not a dragon!”
The coffin lid scraped across its base as she moved it, revealing a cushioned lining, a small horde of pillows and a patterned blanket.  Though the outside was drab stone, the inside looked…rather homey.  For a coffin.
“Not quite what you were hoping for?” Melina asked, as it seemed she noticed her dismay.  
“I don’t know.”  Elyssa frowned.  “Why not just sleep in a bed then?”
The vampire bit at her lower lip in contemplation.
“Well…I can’t speak for the others…But in my case…”  She shifted uncomfortably.  “I--the first days of my new life were spent constantly under threat from the sun, even when I tried to sleep….especially when I tried to sleep.  I developed a bit of a phobia for it.  And after a while, I just started to feel…more at ease in places that were dark and enclosed.”
She fondly traced the edges of the lid.  “Sleeping in a box of some sort is the easiest way to accomplish that.  But they don’t usually make human shaped cargo boxes...And asking for one would likely raise too many questions…But coffins…”
The vampire waved towards her open resting place.
“...Coffins are requested all the time.  Even coffins ordered to your exact specifications; no one ever bats an eye over measurements…It’s a convenience, really.”
“So…you could sleep in a bed if you wanted to?”
“The bed itself certainly wouldn’t kill us.  But….our reactions aren’t always fast when we’re groggy and it’s the middle of the day, so if someone were to open the drapes on any of us while we lay exposed and slumbering…”
“But all of the windows here are glazed over; I could open all the drapes in the castle and the sun still wouldn’t touch you…And I mean…there can’t be that many people who would do something that horrible to you in the first place…”
“That’s very sweet of you to say, Elyssa.”  Melina smiled kindly.  “It isn’t true, and I think you know that, but it’s very sweet of you to say nonetheless.  There are plenty of people out there who wouldn’t hesitate…so…Just…think of the coffin in the same way you’d think of a stuffed toy that a child would cling to; it brings me comfort and assurance to know the sun can’t touch me so long as I’m inside.”
“I’m guessing you’re going to sleep now?”   Elyssa watched as Melina kicked off her shoes and settled down among the bright interior of her coffin.
“Mmmm…Indeed.  I just simply can’t keep my eyes open any longer…”  She sighed happily as she nuzzled one of her pillows.  “Won’t you be a dear and close my lid for me?”
“Wait…”  Elyssa gestured to the coffin opposite of hers.  “Before I do, I wanted to ask: there’s five coffins total, but I thought there was only four of you…”
“Oh…that one would belong to my dear, sweet brother…”  Melina lazily said, already with half lidded eyes. “You won’t likely meet him; he’s gone and locked himself in the cellar.  Out of abundance of caution, mostly.  He’s been having difficulties these days, and…oh, well, he’s such a sweetheart; he’d do anything to make sure he doesn’t hurt anyone…”
“I see….” Elyssa said, suddenly solemn as she stared out towards the cellar hatch.  “I hope he feels better.”
“Indeed, as do I.  I so hate to think of him stuck down there, but it was his choice and my Lord approved…”
She let out another yawn.  “Ah…oh, excuse me.  I’m so sorry, Elyssa.  But I must really bid you a good day; I cannot possibly stay awake a moment longer.  Please promise you’ll stay safe.  I’ve already become a bit fond of you, and I would hate it terribly if you were injured….”
“I’ll promise I’ll try not to die.  Have a good night…erm…I mean day.  Have a good day, Melina.”
Melina gave her one last, sweet smile as Elyssa pushed close the lid.
…It was a lot heavier than anticipated.
She had to shove her shoulder against it just to get it shut.  The clunk of the stone finding the indentation on its base was louder than she’d thought it would be and caused her to jump.
Giving one last look towards the cellar hatch, as if expecting another vampire to appear any moment, Elyssa went back to the table.  Eggs, bacon, and honey bread were shoveled down as fast as she could manage.
~~~
She walked out of the basement a little too full; Ophelia had insisted on giving her a second helping of eggs and bacon, and had even tried for a third.  Given the sort of conversations that had accompanied breakfast, Elyssa had a nagging feeling that the older woman had been desperately trying to distract her from Ebony Flasks.  And, of course, that did nothing but make her more curious.  
Chances were, Ophelia would manage to talk Melina out of explaining it later.
So instead of heading towards the front door with her pack, she made a quick beeline for Gwendis, who had gone back to lounging atop her coffin.
“Psst….Gwendis?  Gwendis, what’s an Ebony Flask?”  She gave the vampire a few pokes in the arm that was covering her eyes.  The skin was oddly cold compared to a mortal’s.
…And the vampire didn’t budge.
“I know you know.  You had that look on your face when I asked about it before, so don’t think you can pretend otherwise.”
And the vampire still didn’t budge.
“Aww come on.  You can’t be asleep already.  And even if you were, there’s a tasty mortal inches from your face nudging you with her fingers.  If that doesn’t wake up a vampire, I don’t know what would.  So what’s an Ebony Flask?  Is it a type of skooma?  Do you all get together to use skooma?  I won’t judge; I promise.”
She could see Gwendis’ lips twitching against her pale face, but otherwise she continued to remain still.
Elyssa huffed.  “Fine.  Be that way.  I give up.  Have a good nigh—day.  Day!  Ugh.  Whatever.”
She passed by Verandis’ study on her way out.  He was still in there, working away at his books, as usual.  Elyssa was partly tempted to go in and ask him about Ebony Flasks and what that had to do with House Ravenwatch.
But she was still too irritated at him to even make the attempt, and that pushed all other thoughts away; so much so that she simply headed outside without so much as a ‘goodbye’ to him.
The bright sun greeted her as soon as she pushed open the heavy oak doors. She stopped to stretch out as she basked in the warmth.
“Hey don’t forget…” Gwendis’ voice came echoing through the halls behind her, proving that she hadn’t been asleep after all, “…Watch out for the weregoats out there.”
Elyssa’s irritation was matched only by the intensity of how hard she slammed their front door shut.
“I hate you all.” She muttered under her breath.  Not that she completely meant it.  
But her irritation only grew further as she noticed a bloodfiend at the edge of town, happily gorging itself on a dead citizen.  
…
……It was like breathing; such an apt description that Verandis had given her earlier that it became hard for her to think of it otherwise.
Warmth filled the tips of her fingers, a growing sensation that shifted through her palm like a liquid.
Coalescing.  Expanding.  An extension of her arm, of her will.  She often found she only needed to hold the image of a spear in her mind for it to form.  And with two steps taken, her momentum helped to send the whole thing forward, hurling through the air.
What was only mere moments resulted in a motionless bloodfiend, a bright spear of solid-like light skewered into its chest.
Unfortunately, it seemed she attracted some attention; another figure lurking in the shadows manifested itself right next to the dead bloodfiend.  She readied herself another spear….
…Only to then dissipate the light in her hands when she realized the second figure had cat ears.
And she winced when a rather irate Adusa-daro came towards her.
“H-Hi…Adusa….”  She nervously greeted.
“Adusa would appreciate…” The Khajiit began with a glower.  “…If the young one would please stop throwing such powerful holy magic so close to this one’s fur…”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!  I just didn’t see you there when you’re dressed in all black like that!”
“Yes yes; this is exactly the sort of thing Adusa is worried about…”  Adusa grumbled, but she didn’t actually seem too upset at her.
Then again, it was difficult to tell; the Khajiit’s black and flowing cloak was surely thick enough to ensure no sunlight ever peaked through, and most definitely dark enough to obscure any body language.  It looked to be made of the same fine material as the one she’d seen Verandis wear the other day, and she was sure that, like Verandis’, it held a dark grey outline of their house crest on the back as well.
…Although Verandis’ cloak didn’t exactly have cat ear protrusions on the hood; that would have been a definite improvement. (She made a mental note to herself to tell him to get some cat ears on his cloak.  Since he was so eager to give her ‘suggestions’ before, he surely wouldn’t mind receiving ‘suggestions’ in return.).
Elyssa frowned as she attempted to figure out where among the bloodfiends the vampire had been lurking.  She only found more bloodfiends.
Which only made her frown more because…well….bloodfiends.
“How can you stand all this going on right outside your doorstep?  With these poor people like….like this…?”
She vigorously gestured towards a few of the creatures shambling close by.
“Patience, young one.  Tell this one; what is the most important thing we must focus on?”
“Killing Montclair?”
“Yes, good.  And what else?”
Elyssa strained herself to think: what else was there besides killing Montclair and dispatching bloodfiends?
“���.Er…Killing Montclair…a second time…?”
Adusa groaned. “The living, Elyssa.  Living people are important, yes?  We must kill Montclair and make sure any living survivors are safe.  These are the two most important of all things that we must do.”
She could hear the khajiit grunt in disgust as she waved towards the bloodfiends.
“These….creatures.  They can wait until later…The dead will always be here later…The living?  Not so much.”
“Sorry; I guess I just took it for granted that we’d help the survivors.  I mean…why wouldn’t we?  But these bloodfiends here…they do still bother you…right?”  Elyssa asked in a quiet voice.
Adusa was in the process of taking down fabric around the face area, which suggested that the cloak, like typical Breton hoods, had a built in face mask.  
“We may not have always spoken much to the people here…” Adusa said. Pain on her face as cat-like eyes scanned over the town.  “But the ones of Crestshade…they were good people.  They do not deserve such a fate.  It is….very, very difficult to watch.  These townsfolk deserve to be put to rest, and not wander like filthy beasts.”
“Is there a chance that Montclair would use these ones for his army?”
The khajiit shook her head.
“Look at them, young one.  They are baking in the sun, and they do not even realize it hurts…Montclair would not win this war on the backs of freshly burnt carcasses falling to pieces.  No, the bloodfiends sent here were clearly only meant to coax the people out of their homes and scattered on the winds.  To turn to the curse any of those who could not make it out…less people he would have to cow to his would-be rule…”
Adusa’s fangs protruded as she softly snarled, her ears hunched back.  “…This one also thinks he may have been trying to mock us a little as well…Send bloodfiends to attack the town while we all were away as an insult to all of our efforts…”
Elyssa remained silent.
She didn’t know how to respond except to look out again amongst the bloodfiends stumbling across the ground…
Their bodies did seem like they were coming apart at the seams; many of them had sun wounds that burrowed straight through their skin, creating gaping holes that only hindered their movements more.
“We must rest and work and focus on the two most important things, Elyssa.  Never forget the priorities. And speaking of which: Adusa is glad to have caught you before you left.  She has need of you.  You will help, yes?”
“What needs to be done?”
“Adusa has been scouting to see how far Montclair’s army has taken its curse, how far it has spread.  They have taken over a small town called Moira’s Hope in the south.  This one could smell the blood of the living there...but there are also many, many bloodfiends as well.  She will need help to cut a path through…and perhaps help with the survivors as well; they are more likely to trust a fellow mortal than Adusa, and there may be need to get them out quickly…”
“Right! I’m with you; I just need to go and get Justice ready…”
“Justice?”  Adusa followed Elyssa around back to their stables.
“My horse.”
“…Is that not…How does one say?  ‘A little on the nose’?”
“Oh I didn’t name her that.  That was the name she came with.  If you can believe it, I got her for free from this cranky old Imperial man.”   Elyssa’s face screwed up as she recalled the memory. “All eight of his horses were white Imperial thoroughbreds, and ALL of them were named Justice….”
Adusa looked at her with incredulity.  “…Did he not have trouble telling them apart?”
“He was so angry; I was afraid to ask too many questions.” She flashed Adusa a nervous smile.
“Very generous, a whole horse….”
“I don’t think he could afford to take care of them all after he’d been displaced from the war.  And I think he was also looking to help other citizens of Cyrodiil, because he only offered her to me when he found out I was a fellow refugee…”
Her comment cut short and her muscles tensed up when she came face to face…with him.
He was hanging out, casually, by the awning of the stables, right next to Justice.
He lifted his head to watch her as she approached.
Her arch-nemesis.
The bane of her existence.
                                     The damned goat.
Her blue eyes narrowed in on him; her stance braced for impact.
He stared back, creepy little sideways pupils watching her as if to size her up.
She took a few sidesteps to the right, maintaining eye contact.
He mirrored her maneuver, his soft bleating filled with obvious faux innocence.
She stopped.
He stopped.
The irritating fiend was playing hardball.
Slowly, she inched her way towards her horse, eyes dead center on her foe in anticipation of the slightest mo—
“What...”  Adusa’s voice intervened, “…In the name of the blessed moons are you doing?”
“Your goat is pure ev—“
Only a moment; Elyssa had only looked away from her dreaded foe for a moment, and the beast, sensing weakness, lowered its horned head to charge.  Just barely was she able to escape the horror of it all by scrambling up the stable post with a yelp.
Adusa stood where she was, her arms crossed, and surveyed the scene with eyes aglow with amusement.
“Hibiscus must like you.  She does not usually react in such a manner with anyone else…”
“You call this liking?” Elyssa grimaced as she clung to the stable post and tried to shoo the goat away by waving one foot while trying to balance on the other.  “Look at the eyes, Adusa!  Those are the eyes of a bloodthirsty creature who has killed before…and will kill again!”  
“Speaking as one who knows bloodthirsty creatures, Adusa can assure that Hibby is both safe and does not consume blood,” Adusa began to make her way back around the castle.  “This one will see you at Moira’s Hope, then.”
“Wha-you’re leaving me??!”  Hibiscus the goat was already making the attempt to scale up the stable walls just to get to her enemy.
“Adusa has every confidence you can handle little Hibby.  If not, Hibby’s treat bag is at the right of yourself. Feed her no more than three whole apples; a fat Hibby would make Anise very concerned.”
And with a wave over her shoulder, the hooded Adusa was gone.
Elyssa turned to her adversary.
“So….You’re a girl goat, huh?  That’s quite a coincidence.  I happen to be a girl human.  We have so much in common; please stop trying to kill me.”
The horizontal goat pupils didn’t seem to falter, and she idly wondered if goats were carnivorous.
Her fingers strained as she tried to reach the treat bag, but she only ended up in an awkward, stretched out position with her torso still at the post and the weight of her upper half held up by her reaching fingers.  She looked at her horse, who was calmly grazing at a pile of hay.
“A little help?” She asked, not actually expecting her horse to respond.
Sure enough, the horse stared back at her, unfazed and ignorant of her situation, before dipping its head to take in another mouthful of hay.
“First Adusa, now you; the double betrayal hurts just a little bit.”  She said, purposefully overdramatic.  If only to make herself feel better about the whole situation.
The goat seemed to be getting impatient, as it begun to ram its horned head against the sides of the stable.  As if to try and knock her down.
“I have to wonder if you really are trying to kill me…” Elyssa winced as she made a solid lunge for an apple peeking out of the leather bag.   Another effortful motion and an apple was tossed as far away as she could manage.
It was a gift from the Gods that Hibby’s priorities involved eating first and everything else second; Elyssa was finally free to drop down.  Not necessarily in an elegant way, given her strained position; she ended up with a face full of hay, with her horse making the move to try and lick it off her face.
Straightened up with hay brushed off, she moved to get her horse’s tack on as quick as she possibly could before the demonic goat got back.  Part of which required giving a jealous Justice an apple of her own to get her to cooperate.
Her weapons and pack at the ready, she hoisted herself up atop her steed; just in time to watch a distraught Hibby cower from Justice’s mightier hooves.  Up high on a horse, she felt a bit more like a knight, regardless of whatever her image in the mirror had shown her before.
Ready to take on the world itself.
A click of the tongue and a flick of the reins, and she was well on her way.
Racing past the bloodfiends as the sun shone in the sky.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Final Author note: Bold of you to assume Verandis wouldn’t adopt your rebellious mortal ass, Elyssa.
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inside-aut-blog ¡ 5 years ago
Text
Autistic Caleb Widogast
Part Three
Episodes 21-30
E21:
“this is a very tactless question, but you are talking about the Scaled Tyrant and you also are sporting some scales. is that a coincidence or are they related?” knowing sth is tactless but not knowing how to soften the words? uhhhhhh mood
overexplains the whole mighty nein thing. again
E22:
“you’re not very good at finding traps, but everything else you’re quite good at”; straightforward honesty, not intended to sting just stated as fact
the entire beau & caleb hug sequence; looks uncomfy, is touch-averse
E23:
script of “i defer to the group” appears again as it does in many episodes
nott, abt beau: you think she was dropped on her head or something? she’s just very sort of…you know… caleb: i mean i think u and i are a little ‘eh’ in our own particular way a) Nott That’s Rude, & b) caleb as good as says that he & nott. are nd
nott, about caleb: sometimes when he stares at you and doesn’t say anything he is talking to u
fjord says he’s “not much of a shopper” & caleb goes “same same”
“caleb is futzing again with the rock and just sort of massaging the four days of stubble that he has grown back”; stim!
“during all of that yammering on the way up, i look over at yasha and sigh out”; yasha goes “yeah. a little crazy?” & caleb goes “that’s it”; Too Loud
E24:
caleb: i was planning to go out, but it’s awkward for me. i thought you would be going yasha: it’s awkward for me, too caleb: i thought that we could give each other moral support, you know what i mean?
“he doesn’t deal well with harsh criticism all the time“; self-loathing & trauma yes, but also. the RSD-adjacent thing lotsa autistics have
E25:
beau picks up ball bearings & caleb starts counting them
E26:
keg: i’m not good at people nott: beau is terrible with relationships and social interactions beau: that’s clearly why we got off to a great start. sorry caleb: i’m not very good at it either
caleb, abt the abandoned house, immediately: are there any books??
“i think there is a young child that’s in danger there. we seemed to care about the bird child, maybe we care about this one? i don’t know,” caleb says, uncertain, & then when nott is like “yes of course we care” he immediately about-faces & is like “of course!! we’ve got to act right now!!!!” & hey wow. absorbing others’ opinions? using others as baselines for How To Do Caring? that’s autistic
E27:
walks away from nott bc runs out of cope for conversation
has trouble saying the “love” word again & possiblydoesn’t feel the love emotion as quickly as others
has panic attack after talking to ophelia; unusual social situation + taking position of authority = Big Hhhh; overlap between Trauma & Autism again
nott: you were great in there. you were great! you handled yourself so well! man you were rock-solid in there! caleb: stop it. i am nauseous. let’s go kill a bunch of people
when he eats the goodberry, he makes a Very Exaggerated Face & says “it’s sour”; those are some Sensory Issues
E28:
beau: we should’ve found a better analogy caleb: than the onion? well, how about we’re just going to kill the people on the wall, how is that for a metaphor?
“waiting very anxiously for my life partner”; sure it’s combat-related concern but! as noted in the op, this isn’t the first time caleb has panicked when separated from nott. & thus i propose: a) separation anxiety & b) nott is, for caleb, That One Person y’latch onto & follow in social situations (& also new/anxiety-inducing situations) bc Easier W/Them Nearby
E29:
stutters before saying that he’s gonna head down first
“i used to have a cat, but i do not any longer–” this somehow manages to be both over- and under-explaining, in that the information isn’t necessary, and he also doesn’t explain that his cat is a familiar/would’ve been useful
during the fight, keeps echoing variations of “this is going very well………”
E30:
“i rub my thumb along the lucky rock in my pocket”
caleb talks w/beau while “staring out the window, not even looking at [her]” (eye contact? in MY serious conversations? it’s less likely than u think)
beau: cool caleb, echoing exaggeratedly: cooool
the “making it work” script-phrase returns
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