alternate universe - THE SKY FORGE2024-03-29T12:43:24Zhttps://TheSkyForge.ning.com/groups/the-story-corner/general-forum/feed/tag/alternate+universeThe Cantons of Vivec (Daria in Morrowind: Episode 30)https://TheSkyForge.ning.com/groups/the-story-corner/general-forum/the-cantons-of-vivec-daria-in-morrowind-episode-302021-04-29T22:44:54.000Z2021-04-29T22:44:54.000ZWellTemperedClavierhttps://TheSkyForge.ning.com/members/WellTemperedClavier<div><p><strong><a href="{{#staticFileLink}}8872720259,RESIZE_1200x{{/staticFileLink}}"><img class="align-full" src="{{#staticFileLink}}8872720259,RESIZE_710x{{/staticFileLink}}" alt="8872720259?profile=RESIZE_710x" width="710" /></a></strong></p><p><strong>Chapter 1</strong></p><p>Contiminus Merro, the first Imperial to visit Vivec City and come back to write about it, described the place as “… a city of shrines and saints that lies within hollow mountains rising from the churning sea, built by the living god Vivace [sic] as a home for his followers.”</p><p>Daria leaned her aching body on a sloping stone barrier above the sea. Maybe Merro saw Vivec as a city of shrines and saints. She saw it as a city that future generations of urban planners would use as a warning of what not to do. Winding stairways led to monstrous ramps, and then to mazes of cramped tunnels, and then back down to the shadowy lower waistworks where sewage infrastructure coiled around obscure shops, every step of the way reeking of sweat and saltwater.</p><p>And that had just been in the Foreign Quarter.</p><p>She finally stood on the first level of what she was pretty sure was the Hlaalu Canton. The cantons were the mountains that Merro had described: buttressed ziggurats of dull green and gray stone, each with three to four tiers, their foundations embedded into the seafloor. Ovoid entrances to shops and apartments pitted the canton exteriors like the marks of some particularly virulent pox, while grime from countless generations darkened the walls of the interiors.</p><p>Everything about the city dwarfed the people within it, as if to remind them of their insignificance before the glory of God-King Vivec who allegedly still lived in the Palace Canton at the city’s south end.</p><p>Daria had arrived in the Foreign Quarter early the previous evening. Unable to find a reputable cornerclub and confused by the directions people gave her (“Go to the upper waistworks from here, past the 5-2, then take a left and keep going until you take two stairways, one up and then one down, to the main mezzanine, and then go down the leftmost passageway to the 8-2 and take a right at the shrine of St. Roris with two statues. If you hit the shrine of St. Roris with three statues, you’ve gone too far. Now quit bothering me!”), she’d slept rough in the lower waistworks and emerged, stiff and exhausted, to continue her search.</p><p>Worse, she’d emerged poorer. Someone, at some point, had nabbed her purse. A bit of the money Tomal had given her still resided in her coat pockets, but she no longer had enough for a silt strider trip back to Balmora.</p><p>The sun was setting, and she still didn't know how to find Jane. Jane had to be somewhere in this canton, she was sure. Serjo Olerlo was a Hlaalu noble, after all. But searching even one of these monstrosities proved an enormous undertaking.</p><p>“Face it,” she muttered to herself, “coming here was the latest in a long series of bad ideas that might have started with being born.”</p><p>None of the passers-by, mostly middle class Hlaalu retainers and ship officers, took any notice of her. People had given her strange looks when she asked where she could find the Olerlo residence. Given how private nobles tended to be, she supposed she should have expected this.</p><p>Daria pushed herself off the wall and went across the wide walkway to the stone railing. She gripped the stems of her glasses to keep them from slipping off and looked down at the web of docks and quays connected to the first tier by rickety planks and rope. Plenty of ships, mostly fishing and some trade, were coming in for the night.</p><p>“Let’s see,” she said. “If this big pyramid in any way resembles the hierarchy of Hlaalu society, it’s a safe bet that the workers all live at the bottom and the nobles…”</p><p>She looked over her shoulder at the bronze dome atop the canton.</p><p>“... are at the top. So, if Serjo Olerlo lives here, it’s probably at that level.”</p><p>Mentally prepping herself for another exhausting search, Daria navigated the dense crowds and the traders hawking grilled fish and kwama jerky. She bought some jerky with her dwindling funds and ate as she walked, wondering exactly what would happen if she failed to find or reconnect with Jane. She ought to have considered that more seriously back at Tomal’s place.</p><p>She marched up every ramp and staircase she found, both in and out of the canton. Wrong turns and dead ends slowed her progress, and night’s darkness soon spread over the sky, but she kept walking. Living in Morrowind at least taught patience.</p><p>Heavy clouds blotted the stars by the time she reached the enclosed plaza at the top. What looked like an entire Dunmer village had been built upon the plaza’s stone surface, plunged into perpetual night by the great bronze dome overhead. Lanterns burned bright in the darkness while the soft glow of fungi revealed stunted trees and bushes growing in the planters. The thick and sour smell of kwama clung to every surface, joined by the subtler scents of brine and burnt incense.</p><p>Now to find which of these manors held Olerlo. Randomly knocking on doors struck her as a bad idea. She’d tried that on the upper level of one of the other cantons (possibly the Redoran Canton) and was simply told to get lost. She remembered Tomal mentioning that the Olerlos had earned their reputation by talking the Elder Council into reducing a tax on tanna root. Maybe she could pass herself off as a representative of a tanna root concern?</p><p>She scoffed at the thought. In her ragged state, she’d be lucky to qualify as a representative of Stendarr’s lowliest mendicant order. Maybe her best bet was to rent a room in a nicer cornerclub and hope that they had a bath.</p><p>Of course, that meant finding one.</p><p>She spotted a human porter resting on one of the planters, his black hair shorn almost to his scalp. He might’ve been a Rimmenese, or an Keptu-quey like Tiphannia. A fellow outlander would probably be more inclined to give her good advice.</p><p>“Excuse me, but do you know where I can find a decent cornerclub? For outlanders?”</p><p>The porter chuckled. “Well, for that, you’re best off going to the Foreign Canton,” he said.</p><p>“I’ve spent two days trying to find this place, and I don’t want to lose it again.”</p><p>“That determination will serve you well in this city! There’s a storm coming, anyway, so you don’t want to be walking tonight. If you have a bit of coin to spend, you can try the Elven Nations Cornerclub behind me.” He gestured with his thumb. “It’s where some of the foreign merchants stay.”</p><p>“How much for a night?”</p><p>“You’re asking the wrong fella, I’m afraid, I only know it by reputation. But hey, don’t step foot in the No Name Club on the other side of the plaza. That’s where the Camonna Tong types gather for drink, and they don’t like us humans.”</p><p>A faint chill ran through Daria. “I’ll avoid that place. I still have a bit of cash, so guess I’ll try the Elven Nations. Thank you. You’re easily the most helpful person I’ve met in this place so far, though that’s probably not much of a compliment given the competition.”</p><p>He laughed. “I see you’ve been given the runaround. Vivec’s got her charms, but they take a while to appreciate.”</p><p>“By avoiding the No Name Club, I might live long enough to do that. Thanks again.”</p><p>Daria walked to the cornerclub that he’d pointed to. Like most of its kind, it bore the sign of a coiled-up scrib, though it was hard to see in the dark.</p><p>At least the interior turned out to be well-lit. The Elven Nations didn’t look all that fancy, with faded tapestries covering the gray walls. The fact that they used rugs (however threadbare), instead of rushes or keeping the floor bare, told her that this was a place for drinking but not for drunkenness. A good sign.</p><p>“I’ve already done some covers tonight, so my next song’s going to be an original. It’s called: Holes In My Heart.”</p><p>Daria followed the familiar voice to the corner of the parlor where he stood, lanky and perfectly unkempt, addressing an all but nonexistent crowd. He strummed his lute and closed his eyes.</p><p><em>“I followed you in the dark,</em></p><p><em>When you hooked me by the heart,</em></p><p><em>I lit up like a spark,</em></p><p><em>When you made me feel so smart,</em></p><p><em>But oh, now I know you just want to hurt me,</em></p><p><em>I’ve got holes in my heart,</em></p><p><em>And it’s all your fault!”</em></p><p>Daria hadn’t found Jane. But she had found Trent.</p><p><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rhDoTKkHg9k" target="_blank">Musical Closer – Daria, by Cake</a></p><p><strong>Chapter 2</strong></p><p>Jane kept her head bowed as Serjo Felvane Olerlo examined the rough draft of her half-length portrait. That’s how Serjo Olerlo liked her employees: humble so that she never forgot how great she was compared to them.</p><p>“I want it to look a little more… Cyrodiilic,” she said. “You’re from Cyrodiil, aren’t you Jane?”</p><p>“Yes, serjo. But I wasn’t there for very long.”</p><p>Saying she wanted it more “Cyrodiilic” could mean a million different things. It could mean serjo wanted more emphasis on realism, like what someone might get from Colovian portrait painters in the west. Or maybe more vibrant colors, reflecting the lush Nibenese arts. Or that she wanted Akaviri motifs subtly woven into the image, like a gilded dragon-serpent stretching along the margins.</p><p>It actually meant that she didn’t know what the hell she wanted, only that she wasn’t quite satisfied with Jane's work.</p><p>Serjo Olerlo waved her hand. “Nonsense, that sort of thing stays with you. Why, if I were a painter, I’d be influenced by Morrowind since I was born here! Yes, a bit more Cyrodiilic.”</p><p>“Of course, serjo.”</p><p>As always, it was Jane’s job to help serjo figure out what she wanted.</p><p>“Do you want brighter colors?” Jane asked. She turned her head slightly to look at the painting. It portrayed her boss standing at three-quarters view with an immense scroll in her hands to reflect a wisdom hard-won from years of cosseted luxury.</p><p>“No, no. More… striking! Yes, striking! I want them to truly see me.”</p><p>“I could go for bolder line work.” Which was a Dunmer styling, not a Cyrodiilic one. But whatever.</p><p>“That would work. Also, get rid of the scroll. I don’t want to appeal to those dreary scholars any longer.”</p><p>I’m sure the scholars would be relieved by that, Jane thought but didn’t say.</p><p>“Replace it with, oh, I don’t know, a baby guar. Yes, a baby guar!”</p><p>“Are you thinking about getting a pet, serjo?” Jane asked.</p><p>Serjo Olerlo sniffed. “Oh, goodness, no! I hate animals. But it’ll be a good look for me, baby guars are in right now. All right Jane, you are dismissed for the evening. Have the new version for me in a few weeks.”</p><p>“The honor is mine, serjo,” Jane uttered.</p><p>She waited for her boss to turn before straightening up and rubbing her neck, the muscles sore from long hours of work. Serjo Olerlo was a lot to deal with. But she also paid a lot.</p><p>For the first time in her life, Jane had money to burn.</p><p>Ready to go back to the dingy apartment she shared with her brother, Jane took her lantern, lit it, and walked out of the manor and onto the top plaza of St. Olms Canton, where a lot of the leading Hlaalu made their homes. On a different night, she might have headed over to a cornerclub in one of the other cantons, but the closed bronze dome over her head meant it was raining outside and she didn’t feel like going far in a storm. St. Olms Canton had bars, but they all catered to long-standing regulars who gave odd looks whenever someone new tried to join in. Best to walk home.</p><p>Like most nights.</p><p>It’d be nice to have someone like Daria around to puncture some of the snobberies. Except it wouldn’t be that nice, not really. Daria would go after Jane for working with the snobs instead of making some defiant stand against them.</p><p>Defiant stands were a lot easier when you knew where your next meal was coming from.</p><p>Her thoughts darkened at the memory of their last, bitter exchange. Daria had seemed so perfect at first. Jane didn’t have to be a cringing outlander or a haughty Dunmer around her. She could just be Jane. Until suddenly, she couldn’t.</p><p>Enough. No point in dwelling on the past. People didn’t stick around. She wasn’t going to apologize to some spoiled Imperial girl for doing what she needed to do to survive.</p><p>“Hey, Jane!”</p><p>It was her friend and fellow artist, Celengor. He strode toward her, his smile insouciant and frame relaxed. Exactly who she needed to cheer her up.</p><p>“Hey, Celengor! Done for the day?” Jane asked.</p><p>Gods, she wanted to paint Celengor. There was something about the way the young Bosmer moved, each motion swift and fluid but precise, like living quicksilver.</p><p>“For this day, yes. But many days yet remain. Serjo Half-Troll’s pleased with my progress.”</p><p>Jane had long known that some Hlaalu nobles were also outlanders, but it still felt weird to hear a Nordic title after “serjo”.</p><p>“I’m sure he is. As for me, Serjo Olerlo is guiding my brush to create something more Cyrodiilic. Shows how, uh, wise she is that she knows Cyrodiil so well, even though she’s never been there. Did I get that right?”</p><p>Since living with nobles meant you could never say what you thought of them. Celengor had been training her in the subtle art of complaining without complaining.</p><p>“Oh, I understand completely. Would that we all had her penetrating insight, so wise that she doesn’t need to travel to the province from which she draws inspiration!”</p><p>He said it so perfectly, like he meant every word. Only his smirk, the gleam in his black eyes, let her know that he got it.</p><p>She and Celengor walked through the side gate leading out to the exterior walkway. Sheets of rain splashed down on the canton’s sloping walls, so they grabbed each other with their free hands and hurried across the slippery stones until they reached the nearest door to the upper waistworks. Damp, but not soaked, they laughed in victory as they passed into the dark corridor.</p><p>“Okay, so have you heard the news?” Celengor asked. His voice was taut like he couldn’t wait to tell her all about it. The corridor barely gave them enough room to walk side by side. They kept brushing up against each other, but Jane was okay with that.</p><p>“Can’t say—”</p><p>Celengor didn’t wait. “New show at the Black Shalk Cornerclub next Fredas! Just heard today. And get this!” He jogged out ahead of Jane and turned to face her, moving backward as he pointed at himself and then at her. “A show for our kind of art.”</p><p>“Portraits of stuffy people?”</p><p>“Jane, come on! You know what I’m talking about. Those charcoal drawings you do, the crazy ones, the ones straight outa your heart!”</p><p>Jane stopped and crossed her arms, flashing him a little smirk. “Are you calling me crazy?”</p><p>He grinned. “Yeah, <em>visionary</em> crazy! The organizers don’t want these boring old Imperial-style portraits. They want the artists who aren’t afraid to do something different. They want us.”</p><p>Vivec did have a real artistic community. Artists like her, professionals who flattered the wealthy by day and lived their dreams at night. Plus, plenty of blowhards out to live the bohemian life for a few years before trudging back to their parents’ estates.</p><p>Not Celengor, though. He was the real deal.</p><p>Celengor stepped to the side and fell in with Jane as she walked. “I’m going to submit that piece I did in yellow and green," he said.</p><p>“Ooh, that’s a good one! Show them what a real artist can do with colors.”</p><p>“And textures!”</p><p>“Wait a sec,” Jane said. “Who’ll be seeing this art?”</p><p>Celengor raised his eyebrows. “Here’s the best part: some rich types from Cyrodiil. More of an appetite for this kind of thing there. Could be some nobles who aren’t afraid of pushing the boundaries.”</p><p>“You mean respectable people might pay me to pour my inner angst out onto canvas?”</p><p>“For sure! Then you can get out of this dump.”</p><p>“I have to work for Serjo Olerlo a few more years at least,” Jane said.</p><p>“Sure, sure. Not saying we’d run out on our employers. But, you know, couldn’t hurt to make connections with the more forward-minded aristos. What are you going to show?”</p><p>Like that, his eyes got all big like he needed to hear. Jane had left most of her personal, expressive works back in Balmora, but she’d made a few more in Vivec and shown them to him a month ago.</p><p>“Wait,” he said. “Do the one with the screaming lady with the claws! That one, like, jumped right into my brain and isn’t ever going to leave.”</p><p>“Yeah, I should probably give it a title,” Jane mused. “Screaming Lady with Claws?”</p><p>“Works for me.”</p><p>“I got some time to think about it. But this is cool.”</p><p>“Better than cool, Jane. Folks like us? It’s going to be our time pretty soon. I’m sick of putting new wine in old mugs.”</p><p>“New wine in old bottles,” Jane corrected. She frowned. Critical old Daria hadn’t quite left her brain.</p><p>“Whatever, whatever. Point is, too many artists are still painting like nothing’s changed for the past two-hundred years.”</p><p>Jane shrugged. “I love a lot of that old art.”</p><p>“For real?”</p><p>“Yeah, for real!” she protested. “Like Gwylain painting the Chaledone wedding and doing the entire scene again in that little background mirror.”</p><p>They reached the Llayn apartment. Living close to her main client made things easier, but Jane wished she’d lived further away that night so she could walk with Celengor a little longer. Part of her hoped he’d ask to stay a while. She’d let him in, maybe take out that jug of mazte… Trent was actually performing for once, so he wouldn’t be home for a while. It'd be her and Celengor, two bright young Mer in one of Morrowind’s greatest cities…</p><p>Celengor made a so-and-so gesture and pulled her back to reality. “Gwylain had some good stuff, sure. But he already did it. We should do something new.”</p><p>“The art world could stand more variety. Anyway, I’m in.”</p><p>“Hell yeah! In a couple hundred years, they’ll be trying to paint like you and me.”</p><p>Jane laughed. “Aren’t <em>you</em> full of yourself.”</p><p>“Hey, I’m good with the brush. Good-looking, too. Why not be a little full of myself?”</p><p>She reached out and tousled Celengor’s hair. He laughed and darted back. “Trying to mess up my carefully arranged locks?”</p><p>“Trying to fix them. They don’t look like they’ve seen a comb in days.”</p><p>Celengor grinned, teeth flashing in the lantern light. “You’re going to have to get a little closer if you want to do that,” he said, in a low voice.</p><p>Were they dating? She wasn’t quite sure. Every conversation they had turned to flirting eventually. </p><p>“Maybe I will,” Jane said, reaching out to him.</p><p>“Janey!” Trent’s voice echoed from farther up the corridor.</p><p>Dammit. “Hey, Trent!” she responded. She guessed Celengor wouldn’t be visiting that night, but maybe it was for the best. They’d known each other for a while, but work meant they hadn't actually talked that often. No point in getting too involved this early.</p><p>Trent’s lantern shone in the darkness ahead, by the door to the apartment where creepy Llendri muttered to himself and stacked furniture all night. She squinted for a better look. A shadow seemed to follow Trent.</p><p>“Howdy,” Celengor called out, waving with his free hand.</p><p>Someone definitely walked behind Trent. He stopped at the door and his mystery guest stepped to the side to reveal herself.</p><p>“Uh, hi Jane,” Daria said.</p><p>Jane gasped. It was her, all right: the same stoic and bespectacled face, one far prettier than Daria would ever willingly admit. But she saw differences, too: her hair in disarray, her clothes shabby, with dirt smudged on her face and hands. Plus, she kind of stank.</p><p>Jane gasped. “Daria! Are you okay? What happened? How’d you get here?”</p><p>“It’s a long story,” Daria said.</p><p>Trent stepped in. “We ran into each other over in the Elven Nations Cornerclub.” He looked at Daria. “Had a pretty fun time reconnecting, huh, Daria?”</p><p>“As much fun as anyone could have in a state of near-total exhaustion, yes.”</p><p>Celengor snapped his fingers and pointed at Daria. “Oh, hey, you’re that glasses chick Jane told me about!”</p><p>Daria glared at him. “Believe it or not, I do have an identity beyond my optical accoutrements and gender.”</p><p>Celengor was fun, active, and passionate about something beyond making sarcastic remarks. All traits that Daria hated.</p><p>Jane smiled and gestured to Celengor. “This is Celengor! He’s one of my fellow artists in this crazy city.”</p><p>“Heya,” Celengor said, waving. “Seriously, it’s a real honor to meet you. Any friend of Jane’s is a friend of mine.”</p><p>“Then I’d say you’re a little too quick to assume friendship,” Daria said.</p><p>Celengor blinked.</p><p>“Daria’s got… a way about her,” Jane said. She stepped toward Daria. “Seriously though, are you okay?”</p><p>Daria looked around the shadows. “From a historical perspective, lots of people have been less okay than me. From a personal perspective, well, I’ve been better.”</p><p>“What about your family? Do they know you’re here?”</p><p>“They’re fine, and no, they don’t. I’d prefer to keep it that way.”</p><p>“Hey, would you be okay if Daria stayed with us for a while?” Trent asked, though it sounded more like a suggestion.</p><p>Their little apartment barely had enough room for the two of them. She didn’t have room for any Daria-based drama in her schedule any longer.</p><p>But something was wrong with Daria, she could tell. It’d take a lot to get her to leave her comfort zone of school and home to travel out to Vivec. By the looks of it, she’d been traveling rough.</p><p>“I have some cash, so I can pay my own way for a while,” Daria said. “If worse comes to worst, I’m sure I can get a job as an exotic dancer.”</p><p>Jane wondered how much money Daria had. A septim didn’t go as far in Vivec as it did in Balmora. Living with her didn’t promise good times. But for all her faults, Daria had always been there for her.</p><p>Well, almost always.</p><p>“Sure. Here, let’s get you set up,” Jane said. “One nice thing about living here: all the apartments have running water. And you need a bath.”</p><p>Daria’s eyes widened, and then she sighed. “I slept in a place that stank of hobo pee last night, so I guess I couldn't come out of it smelling particularly pleasant.”</p><p>“Don’t worry, me and Trent scrubbed the hobo pee out of the apartment as soon as we moved in,” Jane said, opening the door and ushering Trent and Daria inside. She gave an apologetic look to Celengor.</p><p>“I’ll see you later, Jane," he said.</p><p>“You too! I’m definitely going to submit some works for that show,” Jane said.</p><p>She would. Unless Daria made things complicated.</p><p><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uHxLawJONeQ" target="_blank">Musical Closer – Sweet Jane, by The Velvet Underground</a></p><p><strong>Chapter 3</strong></p><p>Sitting in a wooden tub almost too big for the coffin-like space that passed as a bathing room, Daria wondered how clean the water—pumped up from the seafloor and desalinated by divine will according to Jane—really was. But it was warm, at least, and that came as a relief.</p><p>Jane sat on a small stool next to Daria, practically wedged between the tub and the wall. Flat arcane light glowing from a wall sconce cast a sickly sheen on her gray skin.</p><p>“You <em>have</em> been getting up to a lot,” she said, after Daria finished her story. “Fighting cliff racers, having affairs with nobles, breaking up with the same nobles, and then hiking to Vivec. I’m starting to feel like I was holding you back all these years!”</p><p>“Please,” Daria said. “I’ve spent my whole life avoiding society, and the episode with Synda and Tomal proves I was right to do so.”</p><p>“Guess so,” Jane said, sounding distant. She glanced at the door, and Daria couldn’t help thinking she wanted to leave. Jane had listened dutifully but hadn't responded with the wry enthusiasm Daria had been craving.</p><p>How low have I sunk when I’m expecting enthusiasm from others? Daria wondered. She splashed her face with more water, wishing she could sink into the bath and become one with it for all time.</p><p>“Jane?”</p><p>“Uh huh?”</p><p>Daria squeezed her eyes shut. “I’m, uh, sorry about what I said at your going away party. It was insensitive and callous.”</p><p>“Water under the bridge,” Jane said. Then she yawned.</p><p>Daria tried to read her friend’s face and body language for hints as to what she truly thought. The tightness in Jane’s voice and the weariness in her movements didn’t exactly suggest forgiveness.</p><p>Jane yawned again. “Sorry, I had a long day working for Serjo Olerlo.”</p><p>“Uh, it’s okay. You can go to sleep if you want. We can talk more tomorrow.”</p><p>Jane stood up and tiptoed toward the curtain hung over the door. “Sounds good. I won’t be free until the evening. Seeing a new potential client in the morning.”</p><p>Daria blinked. “Wait, I thought all your work was for Olerlo?”</p><p>Jane shook her head. “I wish. She’s my patron, so she offers a lot of support, but I still do some extra work on the side. Gotta keep adding to that portfolio.”</p><p>Daria nodded. She’d suspected this would happen. For all of Jane’s hustle, her situation hadn’t improved that much.</p><p>“I’m sure my mom would admire your obsessive drive,” Daria said.</p><p>And probably nag me to be the same way, she thought.</p><p>Jane disappeared through the curtain, leaving Daria alone in the dim, humid room. She breathed in and let her head sink beneath the steaming bathwater. Heat seeped into her bruised body to soothe pains and loosen stiff joints, and she held her breath a few moments longer before letting it all out in a stream of bubbles. She emerged, drenched and relishing the feel of the water in her hair and on her scalp.</p><p>For now, she had to figure out how to start her new life in Vivec.</p><p> </p><p>*********</p><p> </p><p>Daria spent the night on a makeshift mattress constructed of sheets and spare pillows spread out on the living room rug.</p><p>She awoke to an empty apartment.</p><p>Too sore and tired to move, she lingered in her makeshift bed for a while longer. The lack of windows concealed the passage of time. Only the canton’s heavy gray stone surrounded her, the musty space illuminated by the wan light of the wall sconces.</p><p>Maybe, she thought, gods weren’t the best when it came to designing habitation for mortals.</p><p>Getting out of bed proved an ordeal of frustration and false starts. Exhaustion seized her after every few inches of movement and she’d plunge back into sleep and wake up yet again: moments, minutes, maybe days later for all she knew. Finally, she forced herself to tear off her bedsheet, grab her glasses and put them on, and get to her feet.</p><p>Daria walked on legs as heavy as lead to the counter extruding from the wall. A plate of cold saltrice porridge and a pot of scrib jelly had been laid out with a note. She held the paper up, squinting as Jane’s clumsy handwriting came into focus.</p><p> </p><p><em>Hey, had to leave early. Got you some breakfast. Cooking isn’t an option here, so we grab meals from the big public kitchens. Take it easy today and we’ll chat more later.</em></p><p><em>- Jane</em></p><p> </p><p>She stared at the note a while longer, only the apartment’s silence seeming to speak back to her. No wonder Jane and Trent spent as much time as they could away from their home. Putting the note down, she ate her breakfast and poured herself a cup of water from a small, noisy spigot behind the counter.</p><p>She needed a job. The 133 septims left in her pack wouldn’t last for long, and she didn’t want to impose on Jane’s hospitality any more than she had.</p><p>“Now, Daria,” she imagined mom saying, “any business would be glad to have a diligent and educated young worker like yourself. You simply need to show some enthusiasm for the job!”</p><p>“Right,” she said, her voice sounding flat in the stale air. “Since it’s so natural to feel enthusiasm pitching someone else’s shoddy product.”</p><p>“Well, it’d certainly be easier if you didn’t assume said products were shoddy. Give it a try! And smile, that always helps.”</p><p>Daria pressed her teeth together and gave the ghastliest smile she could. Then she wondered who she was smiling for. Her mom’s imagined voice faded, leaving her alone in the stuffy little room.</p><p> </p><p>*********</p><p> </p><p>The Brewers and Fishmongers Hall smelled exactly as awful as its name suggested. Daria’s eyes watered behind her glasses as she waited at the counter, thinking she should have applied at one of the less fragrant work halls.</p><p>“What do you want, outlander?” a sharp-faced Dunmer woman demanded.</p><p>“Uh,” Daria hesitated, trying to ignore the ways that the stench of fish worsened the stink of fermenting yeast. “I was wondering if there were any jobs that I could apply for.”</p><p>“Jobs?” The Dunmer woman said the word like it was something from a foreign language. Then she shook her head. “This isn’t a place for outlanders. Go look in the Foreign Quarter.”</p><p>“My olfactory sense thanks you for your rejection,” Daria said.</p><p>The woman glared as Daria turned around and walked out the door as quickly as she could, and from there marched back into the St. Olms upper waistworks where she breathed in the less objectionable smell produced by the generations of Dunmer who’d crowded into the canton’s cramped space over the centuries. She’d gotten the same response at the other trade hall she’d tried. Apparently, the Foreign Quarter was her only option.</p><p>It took what felt like an hour of winding through crowds and going down twisty passages before she emerged onto the exterior of St. Olms Canton. Bright afternoon sun pierced her eyes. It was already late in the day, but still felt like morning somehow.</p><p>Daria stood in the shadow of the entrance for a minute and waited for her vision to adjust. When it did, she tried to orient herself. She faced south, looking at the tall and narrow worship structures atop the Temple Canton. Its design made her think of three big stone tents set in a row. Above it floated the enormity of Baar Dau, a mountain-sized meteor supposedly halted in mid-air by Vivec’s will and kept in place by his love.</p><p>Love didn’t strike Daria as the most reliable way to keep a natural cataclysm in check. The rock shadowed the entirety of the Temple Canton. If it ever fell, Daria suspected it’d wipe out a lot more than just the surrounding city.</p><p>Anyway, if she was looking south, that meant she was on the wrong side of the canton. Not wanting to get lost in the waistworks again, she decided to hike around the canton to go north.</p><p>Some time later, she reached the northbound bridge, a ponderous construction of arched stone that looked like it should have long ago collapsed under its weight. If she crossed that, she’d still have to go through or around the Arena Canton to reach the Foreign Quarter.</p><p>Jane had mentioned a gondola service connecting the cantons. A glance below revealed boatmen in broad conical hats plying the treacherous waters. Of course, to get a gondola she’d have to march down to the first tier and find a gondolier who wouldn’t overcharge her for being an outlander. Whatever way she took, it’d be well into the night by the time she found anything in the Foreign Quarter.</p><p>Maybe she should call it a day and head back to Jane’s apartment. She knew how to get back there, at least. All she had to do was go back around to the western gate on the south end of the second tier, then take the hallway to the big mezzanine, then go…</p><p>She frowned. Right? Left? Or wait, there was a staircase she needed to climb before she reached the mezzanine. Wasn’t there?</p><p>“Dammit,” she uttered.</p><p><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tLoS8bGr0uo" target="_blank">Musical Closer – Sloop John B, covered by The Beach Boys, originally a Bahamian folk song</a></p><p><strong>Chapter 4</strong></p><p>Ten days into her stay in Vivec, and Daria hadn’t gotten used to the stink-eye from the woman who doled out the saltrice porridge at the public kitchen. The kitchen was a low-ceilinged warren filled with the paupers of St. Olms Canton and the smell of burnt food. As an Imperial (the only outlander present most days) able to afford glasses, she didn’t exactly match the rest of the clientele.</p><p>The Dunmer woman grunted and glanced at the beetle-shell badge pinned to Daria’s coat, emblazoned with the numeral two to show she was getting food for two people that day: her and Trent. Daria declined to meet her judgmental gaze as she heard the wet plop of plasticine gruel in her outstretched wooden bowls.</p><p>She left as soon as she got the meal, hurrying past the lines of tattered Dunmer and feeling the resentment in their eyes.</p><p>Trent waited back at the Llayn apartment, sitting on the counter with his back against the wall as he plucked the strings of his lute.</p><p>“I live in a shell, ‘cuz you put me in hell… nah.” He scratched some words off the paper next to him.</p><p>Daria placed the bowls on the counter and took a few wooden spoons from the drawer. She put a spoon in each bowl and wondered exactly how much labor had gone into producing the food that she, poor only due to pride, prepared to eat. She’d insisted on fetching the food though. The chore distracted her from the fact that she still hadn’t found any kind of job.</p><p>“Hey, Daria,” Trent said.</p><p>“Yeah?” she replied between mouthfuls of the blandest porridge she’d ever eaten. The stuff was like clay in her mouth, but somehow less appetizing.</p><p>“Jane said she’d bring some dinner from Olerlo’s tonight.”</p><p>“Great. I’m sure the public kitchen’s hardworking staff of irritable old people would be thrilled to know we’re dining off a noble’s table.”</p><p>“Hm…”</p><p>Daria looked up, wondering what Trent would say next.</p><p>“I live in a shell, you rang the death’s knell… nah.” The scratch of his quill consigned another line of poetry to oblivion.</p><p>Jane did come back that night, bearing a smile on her face and a sack bulging with herb-roasted kwama meat and a jug of mazte. The smell took Daria right back to the open-air markets of Balmora, back when the only restriction against buying food or drink came from potentially spoiling her appetite. With 98 septims left to her name, Daria had to be careful.</p><p>“Should I be thankful to your boss for gracing us with this bountiful meal?” Daria asked. Gods, the worst part was that she did feel grateful. Days of porridge did that to a person.</p><p>Jane made a dismissive gesture. “Eh, she’s got plenty to spare. It’s not like we cost her anything with this housing arrangement.”</p><p>Jane had explained the arrangement not long after Daria’s arrival.</p><p>“See,” she’d said, “St. Olms Canton’s supposed to be for poor people. That’s why you have all the free kitchens and public housing. Now, you do have some Hlaalu nobles—like my boss—who live on the top level. They worked out a deal with the temple to let their menials live in public housing since that means the nobles don’t have to feed and shelter us.”</p><p>“What did the temple get out of this?”</p><p>“Political support.”</p><p>“Classic Hlaalu.”</p><p>Back in the present, Daria sipped mazte and hoped that the alcohol would make the situation easier to accept. It didn’t.</p><p>“Doesn’t it bother you that we’re occupying an apartment meant for paupers who have nowhere else to go?” Daria asked.</p><p>Jane shrugged. “This living arrangement isn’t my idea. It’s how Serjo Olerlo wants it. She’d rather have me use public housing than pay me enough to afford a regular apartment.”</p><p>“But you’re going along with it.”</p><p>“<em>We</em> sure are,” Jane said.</p><p>Daria didn’t miss the emphasized collective pronoun. “Because I lack the strength of will to make a big deal about it when I’m also a beneficiary.”</p><p>A beneficiary not only in shelter and sustenance, but in clothing. Jane had given her money to buy some new outfits. Important, since Daria had come to Vivec with only what she wore. She’d bought cheap and durable, and green and black, as always.</p><p>Jane took a bite of kwama, looking at Daria while she chewed. “You said it, not me.”</p><p>Gods, she wanted to say something. Weren’t they on the same side with this? Pushing back against the absurdities and inequities of life?</p><p>“I kinda like the apartment,” Trent said.</p><p>“Yeah, I can tell,” Jane replied. “You hardly ever leave it.”</p><p>Daria noticed the irritation in Jane’s voice.</p><p>“It’s a good place for me to recharge my creativity,” Trent said. “I’m soaking up the Vivec vibe.”</p><p>“And you show off this creativity when you play at Elven Nations one night a week.”</p><p>That was odd, Daria thought. Trent used to travel all over Vvardenfell to play his music.</p><p>“It’s about the quality, Jane. Not the cashflow,” he said.</p><p>Jane shook her head. “You’re both lucky that I’m working for Serjo Olerlo.”</p><p>Daria supposed if she were serious about this, she’d find a job and get her own place. So far as she could tell, most of the people in the Foreign Canton lived six to an apartment since rent was sky-high and kept soaring higher. That’s what happened in a holy city where urban development constituted literal blasphemy.</p><p>“Sorry,” Daria said. Yet what she wanted to say churned deep within her, bubbling to get out. She knew it wasn’t fair to Jane. She owed Jane, not the other way around. Why couldn’t she let these things go?</p><p>“It’s okay,” Jane answered, still not looking up.</p><p> </p><p>*********</p><p> </p><p>The late morning sun beamed down on St. Olms Plaza the next morning, the canton dome retracted to bring in the fresh air and light. Jane crossed the plaza toward Olerlo Manor, where she’d spend the day working on her employer’s latest commission. With any luck, Serjo Olerlo would let her paint outside.</p><p>That was the problem with Vivec, Jane thought. Living in the dark made you lose your sense of color. Balmora hadn’t exactly been a riot of hues, but at least the houses there had windows! She wondered what Vivec himself thought of the city.</p><p>Jane checked her own thoughts. Not that she minded living in his namesake city. She loved how its grandeur sang of his glory and knowing that thousands upon thousands of pilgrims had walked across the same stones she now walked. The problem, she figured, was the Dunmer. As vain as always, her people had turned the holy city into a glorified money trap.</p><p>Maybe, one day, crafty Vivec would teach them all a lesson. A reminder that for all their wealth and power, he was greater still. But he’d do that on his schedule, not on hers. She bowed her head for a moment, focusing on the letter V so he knew that she still thought of him, and always would.</p><p>“Hey, Jane! Ready to rock the artistic world to its core?”</p><p>Celegorn strode toward her, his hair incandescent in the sun's light. Seeing him move was like watching nature bloom in the middle of this stone-clad city.</p><p>“I do whatever Serjo Olerlo wishes,” she said, and then lifted her eyes heavenward to show how much she hated that.</p><p>Celegorn laughed and got next to her. “We can both rock it for real at the art show tomorrow night. You submitted your entry, right?”</p><p>“Yeah, ‘Screaming Lady with Claws’ along with a few others. That one’s a good expression for how I feel right now. I’m stretched pretty thin between Serjo Olerlo and Daria.”</p><p>“The glasses chick still giving you trouble?”</p><p>Jane couldn’t help but giggle. “Daria will kill you if she hears you calling her that again.”</p><p>“She’ll have to catch me first. Us Bosmer are pretty quick. Seriously though, are things okay? You were pretty tight with her back in Balmora, right?”</p><p>“Living with her is a little tough, is all.”</p><p>Celegorn gave a sage nod. “It’s hard to share these dinky apartments with anyone. My roommate’s a great guy and I still feel like strangling him to death half the time.”</p><p>“Living with someone’s the first step to hating them,” Jane said. It sounded like something Daria would say.</p><p>But that didn’t sit well with Jane. Life before Daria had felt like a prison. Back then, she woke up in a box, pretended to pay attention at school, and then worked her fingers to the bone, all to go back to the box, sleep, and do it again.</p><p>Come to think of it, that’s kind of how life after Daria felt, too.</p><p>“Kick her out then,” Celegorn said.</p><p>“No, I don’t want to do that. Daria is a good friend... most of the time. She’s the kind of person who speaks her mind. I guess that’s why I liked her so much. She said the things I wasn’t allowed to say, and she could get away with it. Hanging out with her let me feel like I could do the same.”</p><p>“She could get away with it?" Celegorn snapped his fingers. "A ha! She’s rich!”</p><p>“Kind of. She’s lucky in a lot of ways, but she hasn’t always had an easy ride, either. Telling the truth to people doesn’t earn you a lot of friends. But I don’t think Daria always tells the truth to herself.”</p><p>“How do you mean?”</p><p>“She says she can’t go home to her parents because she flunked some job offer. Which is crazy! I know her mom and dad, and they love her to bits. Not like my folks, who don’t even know if I’m alive. Though I guess I don’t know if they’re alive, either.”</p><p>The thought cast a pall over Jane. That was the one thing that always bugged her about Daria: the way she pretended to be alone.</p><p>“Yeah, I get that,” Celegorn said. “Don’t know if my folks are still around, and the world’s for sure better off if my dad isn’t.”</p><p>“Anyway, Daria goes on about how unfair the world is. She’s not wrong, but sometimes it being unfair helps her and she isn’t comfortable admitting that. And I don’t like it when she judges me, because then I wonder if maybe I could do better, and the reason I don’t is because I’m as corrupt as everyone else.”</p><p>“No one gets through life clean,” Celegorn said. “Way I see it, her family has cash. Your family might as well not exist, so you gotta get ahead however you can.”</p><p>“I know. Daria’s an Imperial, and you know how they are; think they can fix the world and make it perfect if they pass the right laws.”</p><p>“Then they pass the laws and make it worse.” He grinned. “Sounds to me like you need a break. Why don’t you come over to my place for dinner tonight?”</p><p>Jane’s heart leaped. Oh, she’d been longing to hear him say that! She reached out and took his hand, a surge of energy running through her arm as skin touched skin. His black eyes widened a bit but he didn’t lose his cool.</p><p>Unfortunately, she couldn’t.</p><p>“I’d love to, but I’m doing the finishing touches on Serjo Olerlo’s latest commission.”</p><p>“Tomorrow then. We’ll do lunch, and then go to the show. I’ll see if I can sneak out something good from Serjo Half-Troll’s kitchen.”</p><p>Jane smiled. “Yeah, that sounds fun.”</p><p>Still, she had to be careful. She didn’t know him that well. Maybe a date in a public place? Or maybe…</p><p>“Is it okay if I bring Daria?” Jane suddenly asked.</p><p><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ppRasLpYPXM" target="_blank">Musical Closer – Come Monday Night, from the God Help the Girl OST</a></p><p><strong>Chapter 5</strong></p><p>If Jane had suddenly turned around and told Daria that she was being marched to her execution, she doubted she’d dread it any more than the upcoming lunch with Celegorn. Execution might be an improvement. A slice of the headman’s ax would at least be quick.</p><p>“Are you sure you want me along for this?” Daria asked as they scurried down one of St. Olms’ corridors. “You know I don’t make good company on this kind of thing.”</p><p>“It’ll be fine,” Jane said.</p><p>“It was anything but fine with Natalinos. As I recall, you got pretty frustrated with me for being my usual charming self.”</p><p>Jane shrugged. “You were also right about him. Look, I’m a little nervous about going to Celegorn’s apartment on my own. He seems alright, but you can never be sure. Think of yourself as an insurance policy if it makes you feel better. Insurance doesn’t have to be charming.”</p><p>“Okay, but Trent would have probably been a better choice for that.”</p><p>Jane didn’t respond. Daria plodded along behind her, more and more certain that this was a trap to get her to say something so obnoxious that Jane could kick her out and feel good about it.</p><p>“I don’t like Celegorn,” Daria admitted.</p><p>“You barely met him.”</p><p>“Since when has barely knowing someone ever stopped me from hating them?”</p><p>“Anyway, that means if he turns out to be a jerk, I know you’ll be on my side,” Jane said.</p><p>Jane stopped at an anonymous-looking door and rapped on its worn, wooden surface. Celegorn opened it a few moments later. The bright grin on his face wouldn’t have looked out of place on a Hlaalu shyster.</p><p>“Come on in, come on in,” he said, beckoning with his hand.</p><p>Daria followed Jane into an apartment that felt like all the other interior spaces she’d seen in Vivec: gray, small, and smelly. Celegorn gestured at the table, already laden with earthenware plates of fish and other delights.</p><p>“I got the best for you ladies! Grilled fish from the loudest fishmongers of the Arena Canton; a kwama egg omelet, also from the arena; a few glasses of Surilie Bros. wine that I won in a particularly vicious game of backgammon with a one-eyed Breton sailor; and the piece de resistance, beetle pie from Serjo Half-Troll’s kitchen, courtesy of a cook who now only owes me one favor.”</p><p>“This looks great!” Jane said.</p><p>Celegorn pulled a seat out for Jane, and she gave him this adoring look completely void of thought or critique. At Daria’s worst, she was pretty sure she’d never have given Tomal that kind of a look. She was about to say something when Celegorn darted over and pulled out a chair for her.</p><p>“And for you,” he said.</p><p>She glared at him, annoyed that he’d moved so quickly to be polite. Then she muttered a thank you and sat down.</p><p>“Daria,” Celegorn said, as he settled down on the seat next to Jane, “did Jane tell you about the art show at the Black Shalk Cornerclub tonight?”</p><p>Daria nodded. “I guess one good thing about Vivec is that it’s big enough to be culturally innovative. Not that it cancels out the city’s inequities.”</p><p>“Oh, Vivec’s a sleazy, dirty place,” Celegorn said. “Probably why I fit in so well.” He looked to Jane and grinned, and she giggled.</p><p>Gods, Daria hated this.</p><p>“Nothing like rolling in the mud to show how above it you are,” Daria muttered, making sure she said it loud enough to be noticed.</p><p>Was Jane trying to bring things to a head with this? If so, maybe it was time to indulge her.</p><p>“Hey, we’re all pigs, right?” Celegorn replied. “Just trying to get ahead any way we can.”</p><p>“You seem pretty comfortable with that proposition,” Daria said.</p><p>“I keep it real.”</p><p>“Said with all the satisfaction of someone who benefits.”</p><p>“Mm, you picked some good fish,” Jane said, a little louder than she needed to.</p><p>“Oh, I know. Live here as long as I do, you know which fishmongers sell the best product. The key,” he said, lowering his voice as if sharing some kind of state secret, “is looking at their hands. Lots of scratches mean that they used to work with lines and hooks, and that means they actually know about fishing. The lady I buy it from, Nevasa? Her hands are all scars. And she sells the best fish.”</p><p>“See,” Jane said, looking at Daria, “this guy knows Vivec.”</p><p>“I’ve been roaming since I was a kid, so I got pretty good at figuring things out.”</p><p>Celegorn was so damned sure of himself. Why did Jane always fall for these thinly veiled confidence men? Her friend’s terrible taste in significant others aside, Daria knew she had to behave, so she focused on the food and let the lovebirds do the talking.</p><p>The food was pretty good. The fish tasted fresh, like it’d been snapped out of the ocean and plopped right on the grill before being served. Daria doubted that Celegorn knew how to pick out a good fishmonger (given the sheer number of people in Vivec, she figured the anglers focused on volume rather than quality), but he had found a good source at the very least.</p><p>Daria tried to figure out what she’d tell Jane later if she asked for her opinion on Celegorn. Then again, Jane giggled at every forced witticism that came from Celegorn’s mouth. She only wanted Daria's approval. The same way everyone wanted approval, to hear that they were great for taking part in a corrupt system. So that maybe they didn’t have to listen to that nagging voice that told them they weren’t so great after all, that maybe they could do better.</p><p>This was a trap. </p><p>Did Daria deserve it? She’d showed up in Vivec unannounced, criticized Jane for accepting public housing while taking advantage of the same, all on top of treating her shabbily back in Balmora.</p><p>Hell yes, Daria deserved it.</p><p>She’d blown things up with Armand, with her family, and with Tomal. At this point, she might as well go all the way.</p><p>Daria took another draught, one big enough to make her a bit light-headed.</p><p>“Hey, Daria,” Celegorn said. “How are you liking Vivec so far? Must be a pretty big adjustment after Balmora.”</p><p>“Vivec’s a place where the corrupt rise to the top and exploit the system to stay there. So no, not a big adjustment at all.”</p><p>Celegorn smiled like he knew exactly what she meant, and for a moment, Daria saw what Jane saw. “Guess the Empire’s the same all over. But you can’t be that far from the top yourself.”</p><p>“Yes, which is why I came here with the clothes on my back and stinking of the road with barely over a hundred septims in my pocket.”</p><p>“Yeah, yeah, I get that. But you could always go back home. Those glasses?” he pointed two fingers at her eyes, “Those cost a lot.”</p><p>“Celegorn…” Jane said, and Daria couldn’t quite tell if Jane was warning him or admiring him.</p><p>Maybe it didn’t matter.</p><p>A strange sort of relief swept over Daria. After tonight, she’d be done.</p><p>“I am, in fact, a beneficiary of a crooked system. Much like your boss, though at his position he’s one of the people actively keeping it crooked. You help him with the visual flattery you call art. In return, you receive the largess you need to live comfortably and feel good about yourself. Unlike you, I won’t make any pretense that I’m doing this out of some kind of authenticity. Fundamentally, I am a bad person. But I realize it.”</p><p>“Wait, Daria—” Jane started.</p><p>Standing up from the table felt like breaking free of chains. This was the thrill of the void, casting it all aside so she could hide away in obscurity until she died and left this miserable, rotting world.</p><p>“And,” Daria continued, “since I realize it, I’m going to put my money where my mouth is and attempt to find some way to separate myself from the corruption.”</p><p>Daria ignored their objections as she opened the door and stepped into the hall. Not knowing where she wanted to go, other than far away, she took quick long steps down the corridor and through every side-tunnel she crossed until she knew they couldn’t find her.</p><p>Now she truly was alone in the big city, with barely any money and no idea what to do next.</p><p>“How’s this for keeping it real?” she muttered.</p><p><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2twLJU_ggGI" target="_blank">Musical Closer – Gouge Away, by The Pixies</a></p><p><strong>Chapter 6</strong></p><p>Daria was halfway through her cup of mazte when she finally accepted how foolishly she’d behaved that evening.</p><p>Maybe it didn't matter. Things would have fallen apart sooner or later, anyway. Jane wouldn’t put up with Daria’s constant obnoxiousness, any more than mom would put up with a daughter who burnt bridges with a pyromaniac’s zeal. But the fact remained that Daria was stuck in Vivec with barely any cash.</p><p>She didn’t fancy the idea of sleeping rough again.</p><p>Finishing her drink, Daria bought another. Mazte at least made her situation seem slightly less scary. She sat at the Elven Nations Cornerclub in the Hlaalu Canton, surrounded by soberly dressed outlander merchants going over accounts or discussing business in the low tones of people haggling over the very last septim. That she’d found her way there from St. Olms counted as a small victory, at least.</p><p>Maybe her best bet was to hike over to Ebonheart and beg the Imperial Cult for alms. Do that long enough to save for a sackcloth robe and she could spend her days working as a penitent for Stendarr. Not too different from Synda's fate in the Tribunal Temple.</p><p>“Here’s to you, Synda,” she said to herself quietly, “from one horrible person to another.”</p><p>Daria raised her cup in mock salute, not caring if anyone saw her toast the empty air in front of her, and then took a drink. Someone sat next to her as she put the cup down on the counter and stared into the foamy brew within.</p><p>“Hey, Daria,” came Trent’s voice.</p><p>Daria froze. Because of course she’d end up in Elven Nations on a night Trent was playing. Why not draw out the pain a little longer? He might not know what had happened.</p><p>“Hi, Trent,” she said, not looking up.</p><p>“Figured I might find you here,” he said.</p><p>So, he had been looking for her. She sighed. “I suppose that’s the problem when you’ve only been in town long enough to become familiar with a single cornerclub. I guess you heard about what happened at Celegorn’s.”</p><p>She finally looked at Trent. No anger or frustration in his face, only the perpetually relaxed expression that came from any major emotional display being too much effort. He ordered a pot of greef and then gave her the same all-knowing half-smile that had captured her heart a few years ago.</p><p>“Jane was looking for you in St. Olms. Her boyfriend was, too.”</p><p>“Great. Jane’s missing her big show because of me. If she didn’t hate me after lunch today, she definitely will now.”</p><p>Trent shook his head. “Nah. Her show’s still a few hours away. Anyway, I told her to take care of the show and that I’d find you. They’d been looking up and down the waistworks, but I figured you’d go someplace cooler than that.”</p><p>“I’m not sure how a bar for bored commercial travelers counts as cool, but okay.”</p><p>“Cool’s just a state of mind, Daria. Trust me, I know.”</p><p>Stupid though it was, she couldn’t resist smiling at that. His confidence was totally unearned and entirely authentic.</p><p>“So, what’s your plan?” Trent asked.</p><p>“My plan is to finish this drink. Beyond that?” She sipped and then shrugged. “I guess I’ll hike to Ebonheart and see if I can find someone who needs a scrivener.” Admitting her charity plan to Trent felt a little too pathetic.</p><p>“Strike out on your own. Very cool,” he said, with a sage nod. “You know, you can stay with me and Jane if you feel like it.”</p><p>“It’s still hard for me to believe that Jane isn’t angry at me.”</p><p>“She’s a little mad. But friends get mad at each other sometimes.”</p><p>Daria shifted in her seat. “It’s the principle of the thing that’s bothering me.”</p><p>“I’ve never met a principal, so I don’t know much about that.”</p><p>Daria sighed. “What I mean is that Jane’s been nothing but patient with me. The kids I grew up with turned me away if I said a single wrong word. Now, I meet someone who doesn’t just not mind me, she enjoys spending time with me. But instead of appreciating this, I criticize her and make my problems hers. Jane worked hard to get her career off the ground. Now that she has, the last thing she should have to worry about is offending my ethical sensibilities. Sensibilities which, in all likelihood, are a paper-thin mask for my pride.”</p><p>The bartender handed Trent the greef, which he took with a quick thanks. Then he looked at her. “Jane misses you. She’s been talking about you a lot ever since we got to Vivec.”</p><p>“Sometimes, I think Jane’s a little too forgiving.”</p><p>“That’s her call to make, Daria.”</p><p>It was Jane’s call to make. But it didn’t seem right to let her.</p><p>“Are you going to see Jane’s show tonight?” Trent asked.</p><p>“Uh, I’m guessing Celegorn’s going to be there.”</p><p>“Yeah, he will.”</p><p>“What do you think of him?”</p><p>Trent took a sip. “He’s okay, I guess. Kind of full of himself.”</p><p>“That’s putting it mildly. I shouldn’t have let him get under my skin like that.”</p><p>“It happens. Jane seemed kind of mad at him today.”</p><p>“Mad enough to break up with him?” Daria asked.</p><p>“Probably not.”</p><p>“I guess that’s her choice. Jane’s showing her personal art at this show, isn’t she?”</p><p>“Yeah. She never thought anyone would be interested in that. It’s way cooler than the stuff she does for her boss.”</p><p>“She’s a visionary.” Daria took another long drink. “Okay, you talked me into it. I don’t know if I’ll stay after, but I guess I should see this show at least.”</p><p>“Very cool.”</p><p>“Can you show me how to get here? I don't I trust myself to find this place.”</p><p>“Sure,” Trent said. He downed his drink in a single swig, left a few coins on the counter, and led Daria out.</p><p>Faint stars gleamed in the purple sky as they emerged from the Elven Nations Cornerclub. With the dome retracted, the plaza that had looked so dark and ominous to Daria upon her arrival now looked like any other upscale Hlaalu neighborhood: tidy, wealthy, and more than a bit stuffy.</p><p>She followed Trent as he crossed the big bridge connecting the Hlaalu to the Redoran Canton, the towering bulk of the Foreign Quarter within sight to the north. Something about the scene, the darkening firmament and the fresh spring air, took her back to her first months in Balmora, when the world seemed to consist of hanging out with Jane, longing for Trent, and blessedly little else. As if things were returning to normal.</p><p>Except they weren’t. Time moved on. But if Jane forgave her, she’d at least have this night as a reminder of how simple things used to be.</p><p>Which reminded her of another difference between then and now.</p><p>“Trent?”</p><p>“Yeah?”</p><p>“You used to travel to gigs all around Vvardenfell. Are you not doing that anymore?”</p><p>Trent was silent for a moment. A row of guar-pulled carts rumbled past, leaving a spicy aroma in their wake.</p><p>“I’m keeping it local. It’s better that way.”</p><p>“I guess I can see that, given that Vivec’s the biggest city in the district.”</p><p>Though Jane had said that he only ever played at the Elven Nations, and not very often at that.</p><p>“Travel’s not really my thing anymore,” he said in a resigned voice, as they turned left at the second-tier walkway of the Redoran Canton, its broad surface only occupied by a few Dunmer pilgrims kneeling at a saint’s shrine carved into the stone.</p><p>Some part of Daria flashed back to the days when she’d wanted to know every last thing about Trent, her ears hungering for his voice, her eyes craving that self-sure smile. He no longer had that pull on her. Now she saw someone hurting and lost, much like herself.</p><p>“Saw everything there was to see in Vvardenfell?” she asked, suspecting there was more to Trent’s story.</p><p>“Uh…” Trent trailed off as a white-robed and steel-masked ordinator swept past. “Did Jane, uh, tell you that I got robbed a while back?”</p><p>Daria nodded. “I remember.”</p><p>“I’ve been robbed before, up north. You can’t get too worked up about that. The north’s always been dangerous, so you gotta accept that going in. But these robbers took everything the Spiral had, and they did it in the Ascadian Isles. That’s supposed to be the nice part of Vvardenfell.”</p><p>“Nice in the sense that the ugly parts are hidden instead of obvious,” she said.</p><p>“Heh, yeah. But it was usually pretty safe to get around. It made me think of that time the nix hound went after you and Jane, back on her pilgrimage. If stuff like that happens here… makes me feel like things are falling apart.”</p><p>“How do you mean?”</p><p>“Maybe it’s just me. But yeah, I stay in the city these days,” Trent admitted.</p><p>“Did you talk to Jane about this?”</p><p>“Nah. She’s got enough troubles without worrying about me. I’m the one who’s supposed to take care of her, anyway.”</p><p>“Hmm. Well, as a wise man once told me, maybe that’s her call to make.”</p><p>Trent was silent for a bit, and then he chuckled. “That is pretty wise. Maybe I should let her make it.”</p><p>“Jane’s pretty good at that,” Daria said, her heart lightening as they neared the Foreign Quarter.</p><p><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jwv-iRvyDZg" target="_blank">Musical Closer – Perfect Situation, by Weezer</a></p><p><strong>Chapter 7</strong></p><p>On most nights, the Black Shalk Cornerclub would have looked much like the Elven Nations Cornerclub and probably every other cornerclub in Vivec.</p><p>But when Daria and Trent arrived that night, the place had garbed itself in art. Not the quotidian portraits and nature scenes of the Empire, nor the jagged saints and gods of the Dunmer, but images and textures from the souls of a restless avant-garde.</p><p>Most of it, in Daria’s opinion, wasn’t that good. And judging by the dutiful, incurious expressions on some of the two-dozen or so visitors, she wasn’t alone in her opinion. Yet one artist stood out, to her and the others. A full half of the attendees crowded around Jane’s table, their dreary eyes suddenly lively as they studied, with fascination, the works she’d kept secret for so long.</p><p>Jane presided over them like a goddess greeting her petitioners. Her usually guarded expression glowed with untrammeled enthusiasm as she answered their questions and told them what went into the creation of each work.</p><p>“I guess I always had one foot in the Empire and the other in Morrowind. Blending the styles came naturally,” she explained to a Nibenese Imperial cloaked in scarlet silk.</p><p>Her eyes caught Daria’s gaze for a moment. Daria offered a faint smile, and Jane raised her eyebrows to let her know that she saw, that all was forgiven.</p><p>This was what Jane could be. Artists weren’t rare in Tamriel. There was no lack of nobles and merchant princes and prospective brides who wanted their likenesses captured in paint. But Jane did more. She followed her vision and, what’s more, got people to follow with her.</p><p>Daria realized that things would never be the way they once were. Maybe that was a good thing. Greatness had always been inside Jane, but she’d have never been able to let it out if she’d clung to the past in her little apartment. Jane had adapted to the world while staying true to herself. If she could do it, maybe Daria could walk a similar balance. Stasis asked for nothing, but offered nothing in return.</p><p>“Hey, Daria. Glad you showed up. Me and Jane were pretty worried.”</p><p>It was Celegorn, leaning against the wall by canvases of abstract colors that no one seemed to care about.</p><p>Daria still didn’t like the guy, but that wasn’t Jane’s problem.</p><p>“Hey. Uh, I suppose I owe you an apology.”</p><p>He waved it off. “Don’t sweat it. I shouldn’t have needled you like that. Kinda my way, I guess, but sometimes I need to know when to shut up. Jane lectured me on that.”</p><p>“Think you’ve learned?”</p><p>“Nope. I’ll always shoot my mouth off. But I do know when to say sorry. So yeah, my bad.”</p><p>“It’s all right. Regardless of what we think of each other, we should probably keep things civil for her sake.”</p><p>“Yeah.” He looked over to Jane, his eyes alight with awe. “She’s amazing. I knew that everyone here would go to her paintings. No shame in being beaten by her.”</p><p>Daria took a closer look at Celegorn’s work: bold swaths of color, mostly yellows and greens, that didn’t seem to show anything in particular.</p><p>“Your work is, uh, colorful,” Daria said.</p><p>Celegorn laughed. “Go ahead, tell me what you think. Don’t hold back, I have a thick skin.”</p><p>“Hm, maybe you should tell me. I’m not as well-versed with art as you or Jane.” Saying that made Daria feel a little better.</p><p>“Alright, what does it look like to you?”</p><p>“Colors,” Daria said.</p><p>“Exactly. All most of us do is use the great colors nature’s given us to paint these stuffed-up jerks who run the show. Or we try to paint nature, but come on, do we ever succeed? So, I did pure color. Let people see how it looks when it isn’t shackled to something else.”</p><p>Daria peered a little closer. It was hard to tell in the dim light, but she noticed a subtle gradient in the greens and yellows, how they clashed in sharp contrast at some points but subtly mingled in others.</p><p>“I think I can see it,” she said. “You didn’t mindlessly slather paint onto the canvas. You put a lot of thought into this, intensifying the hues here and there. It's not only yellow and green, but yellow and green in all their varieties.”</p><p>“Only some of their varieties, there are way more than what you see here. That’s the idea though, yeah.”</p><p>“It’s not my kind of art,” Daria said, looking Celegorn straight in the eye. “But I can see the value in it.”</p><p>“Then my mission here is accomplished,” he said, with a smile. He again looked at Jane.</p><p>Daria walked around and studied some of the other artists’ work. Some, she had to admit, did nothing for her and probably still wouldn’t after an explanation, like a display of wooden plates skewered on spears put together by a young Nord. Others possessed an undeniable skill and elegance, like the complex abstract patterns done in watercolors by a Khajiit woman. Another display, a set of red and black demon statuettes that a bald Dunmer had carved from volcanic ash, disturbed Daria for reasons she couldn’t quite fathom.</p><p>She rarely saw much that was new in the art world. That night, she saw plenty. It still wasn’t what she’d want to hang up in her room. She was probably more old-fashioned than she cared to admit. The safe and the familiar always beckoned. But she could still explore and appreciate the new while rooted in the old.</p><p>The crowd around Jane finally cleared, and Daria approached her friend.</p><p>“Sorry I ran out on lunch,” she said.</p><p>“I’m glad you’re okay,” Jane said, and suddenly hugged Daria.</p><p>Daria stiffened for a moment, not quite sure how to react, but then relaxed. Jane disengaged a moment later.</p><p>“I’m sorry Celegorn kept bugging you,” Jane said. “I told him not to.”</p><p>“He and I both bear some responsibility with how it turned out. We were talking a few minutes ago, and I think we’ve put aside our differences. I can tolerate him, at the very least.”</p><p>Jane glanced over to Celegorn, who was chatting with Trent. “So what’s your honest opinion of the boy?”</p><p>Daria gathered her thoughts. She’d be honest with Jane. And honest to herself, as well.</p><p>“Celegorn’s the kind of fun-loving person who’ll always grate on my nerves. I don’t think he’s a bad guy, though. He seems genuinely impressed with you as an artist, and he’s aware of his occasionally obnoxious behavior and makes some attempt to ameliorate it.”</p><p>Jane crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. “You’re getting soft on me, Morgendorffer.”</p><p>“I’d attack his fashion sense, but that’s probably more my sister’s field. On a more serious note, he does seem to take a free-wheeling approach to life, so I don’t know if he'll be one for commitment.”</p><p>“Oh, I don’t expect anything too long-term from him,” Jane said. “Neither of us is going to be in Vivec forever, anyway. But hey, my house is always yours: in Balmora, Vivec, or any other city where I make my home.”</p><p>Daria shivered. She’d done nothing to earn such a good friend. Maybe that was the beauty of it.</p><p>“Uh, thanks,” she managed to stammer out. “I’ll find some work in the Foreign Quarter so I can contribute a bit.”</p><p>“Take your time. You know, I was thinking about what you said about the public housing, how it’s crummy for me to use something intended for people who need it.”</p><p>“It’s not a great situation, but from what you tell me it sounds like you didn’t have a choice.”</p><p>“I don’t. But I do earn more than enough money to buy food from the vendors. Me and Trent went to the public kitchens because we could and, well, because I’m still kind of scared to spend money. That’s not an excuse, though.”</p><p>“Your half-hearted commitment to a more ethical lifestyle is an inspiration to us all,” Daria said.</p><p>“Yeah, I’ll have to do some more Hlaalu-esque things to make up for it. Embezzlement? Blackmail? Ooh, I like the sound of blackmail,” Jane said, rubbing her hands together.</p><p>“Given your clientele, I’m sure you’ll never be lacking for sources.”</p><p>“Thanks for coming to the show, Daria. You were with me when I did a few of these paintings. Didn’t seem right to show them without you.”</p><p>Jane gestured at one of the works on her table, showing a feminine figure tucked into a fetal position and drawn in thick black lines, surrounded by concentric strokes that somehow suggested both comfort and restraint. Daria did remember whiling away a spring afternoon on the balcony as Jane had painted that very image. She understood it immediately: Jane as herself, both Dunmer and Cyrodiilic but neither, and glorious for that uncertainty.</p><p>“I’m glad I’m here. It occurs to me that I’m not always the easiest person to be friends with. And that, in a lot of ways, I’m actually pretty lucky to have you,” Daria said.</p><p>“You’re not as unlikable as you think. You’ve made other friends, too: Jolda, Amelia, that random Ashlander kid… hell, you had a noble boyfriend, and you broke up with <em>him</em>, not the other way around!”</p><p>“You mean my efforts at flinty misanthropy were doomed to failure?”</p><p>“’Fraid so, Daria.”</p><p>Daria smiled. “I guess I can live with that.”</p><p><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ciLNMesqPh0" target="_blank">Musical Closer – Vincent, by Don McLean</a></p><p><strong>Chapter 8</strong></p><p>The weekend felt like old times again and was all the sweeter for being so very temporary. Done with her show and with her boss’s latest assignment, Jane finally had time. So she and Daria chatted aimlessly in the apartment and explored Vivec, the city’s monumentalism no longer so bleak.</p><p>On Loredas, Daria accompanied Jane to the Temple Canton where she gave thanks for her success. Jane entered its shadowy and smoky confines with her head bowed and her hands cupping a glass-like coda flower to give as a symbolic offering, and a pouch full of coins as a more concrete offering.</p><p>Daria waited outside, and wondered how things were going back in Balmora.</p><p>Sundas evening took them back to the Elven Nations Cornerclub, where Trent tried out a few questionable tunes to an audience that (save for Daria and Jane) didn’t give a damn, and it was wonderful.</p><p>Jane stopped by the Olerlo Manor on Morndas morning, and returned at noon with a sealed paper in her hand and a curious expression on her face.</p><p>“Hey, Daria. A courier came by with a letter for you.”</p><p>Daria looked up from her book, the slender twelfth volume of Perus’s <em>Interviews with Tapestrists</em> that had been left behind by a previous occupant.</p><p>“For me?”</p><p>“Yeah, there’s a note here from Quinn telling me to ask Serjo Olerlo to send this letter to the Sloans,” Jane said, handing Daria the paper. "I guess she still thinks you’re with Tomal.”</p><p>From Quinn? Suddenly faint, Daria held the letter up to the nearest sconce. </p><p> </p><p><em>Daria –</em></p><p> </p><p><em>I hope you get this letter. I’m sure you’re having a lot of fun with Serjo Sloan. Serjo Talori tells me he’s one of the most eligible bachelors in Vvardenfell.</em></p><p> </p><p><em>Mom and dad know Serjo Sloan’s a great guy, and that his family is honorable. But you’re their oldest daughter and you didn’t even say goodbye! That’s why they’re worried about you. They think they did something to make you run away, and they’d really like to see you.</em></p><p> </p><p><em>I want to see you, too. I know we don’t always get along, but you’ve always been like a rock for us. Mom gets so driven and work-obsessed, and you know how dad kind of flies off the handle sometimes. And me, well I’m pretty great, but maybe I do spend too much time and money on stuff like fashion. You’re stable, though. You keep things going.</em></p><p> </p><p><em>No one here is mad at you (well, mom is a little, but she’ll get over it). We just want to see you again. If you get this, please come home just to say hi. It’d mean a lot.</em></p><p> </p><p><em>- Your sister, Quinn</em></p><p> </p><p>Daria read it aloud, each word sinking in with the weight of gold. Jane gave a long, low whistle when Daria finished.</p><p>“Told you,” Jane said. “You’re more likable than you think.”</p><p>“I didn’t expect this.” It couldn’t have been easy for Quinn to arrange the letter. Did mom and dad know she’d hired a courier?</p><p>“What are you going to do?”</p><p>Daria thought about it for a bit. It had seemed like such a clean break, too. But maybe that had been too easy.</p><p>Maybe, as she had with Jane, she should give her family a chance to decide if they wanted her around.</p><p>“I should probably go back,” Daria said. “Quinn’s right. I never said goodbye.”</p><p>Jane nodded. “Family can be a pain. But yours isn’t that bad, all things considered. At least they talk to you.”</p><p>“I do owe them an explanation. And right when I was starting to get comfortable in Vivec, too.”</p><p>Part of her didn’t want to leave, not so soon after things had gotten back to normal with Jane. Except they wouldn’t stay that way. The world moved on and she couldn’t—she <em>shouldn’t</em> even if she could—hold it back.</p><p>“You know, Daria, I’m free this week. What if I went back with you? There are always silt striders going between Vivec and Balmora, so it’ll be easy to get a ride. Plus, I should probably check in on J’dash.”</p><p>“You coming along would provide a welcome distraction from dreading the talk with my mom. I’ll need someone to guide me to the strider port, anyway. When can you leave?”</p><p>“Tomorrow morning’s fine. Think you’ll be ready by then?”</p><p>“Probably not. But I won’t let that stop me,” Daria said.</p><p><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QyHURU5sWOg" target="_blank">Musical Closer – A Down and Dusky Blonde, by God Help the Girl</a></p><p><strong>The End</strong></p><p><a href="https://theskyforge.ning.com/groups/the-story-corner/general-forum/gone-sister-gone-daria-in-morrowind-episode-29" target="_blank">Episode 29: Gone Sister Gone</a> | <a href="https://theskyforge.ning.com/groups/the-story-corner/general-forum/daria-in-morrowind-table-of-contents" target="_blank">Table of Contents</a> | <a href="https://theskyforge.ning.com/groups/the-story-corner/general-forum/bad-day-in-balmora-part-1-daria-in-morrowind-episode-31" target="_blank">Episode 31: Bad Day in Balmora, Part 1</a></p><p> </p><p> </p></div>Gone Sister Gone (Daria in Morrowind: Episode 29)https://TheSkyForge.ning.com/groups/the-story-corner/general-forum/gone-sister-gone-daria-in-morrowind-episode-292021-04-17T06:32:23.000Z2021-04-17T06:32:23.000ZWellTemperedClavierhttps://TheSkyForge.ning.com/members/WellTemperedClavier<div><p><a href="{{#staticFileLink}}8803501658,RESIZE_1200x{{/staticFileLink}}"><img class="align-full" src="{{#staticFileLink}}8803501658,RESIZE_710x{{/staticFileLink}}" alt="8803501658?profile=RESIZE_710x" width="710" /></a></p><p>Mom and dad were still arguing. Actually, it was more like dad was yelling and mom was trying to keep him from doing something stupid.</p><p>“Jake, Daria’s letter said she was fine.”</p><p>“Yeah! Her <em>letter</em> said that! But what would Daria say, Helen? Maybe the Sloans made her write that letter! They’re nobles, they can do whatever the hell they want and this whole damn system will let them get away with it!”</p><p>Quinn rolled on her side and pressed her pillow over her ears.</p><p>“Great going, Daria,” she whispered. “Run off with a noble and leave me with this mess.”</p><p>Everything had gone wrong since the pageant! First, it turned out Daria had been having an affair or something with Tomal, Synda’s boyfriend. Her ex-boyfriend, now. Then she ran off with him, which was the weirdest thing ever, because Daria was boring.</p><p>And now, everyone was fighting each other about it. Dad acted like Daria had been kidnapped, and mom was trying to calm him down while also asking some of the army guys in the fort to investigate. Not that they did.</p><p>“We’re sorry,” the officer had said, “but the Sloans are friends of the Empire. Given their status, you ought to consider yourself lucky that their son has taken such an interest in your daughter.”</p><p>Somehow, Quinn was pretty sure Daria was safe. The letter sounded too much like her to be a fake. Who else would live with the richest guy in Morrowind and still find something to complain about? But mom completely flipped when she’d told her that. Quinn understood why, though.</p><p>Talking about dating or marrying a noble was one thing, but actually doing it? That could get scary. She remembered how that creep Turimar had threatened her, how helpless she’d felt.</p><p>“I’m going over to Moonmoth to have a talk with this Varrus guy tomorrow!” dad bellowed from down below. “See what that squirmy little bureaucrat has to say to an angry Nord father whose daughter is missing!”</p><p>“Varrus already—”</p><p>“I don’t care! He didn’t do enough!”</p><p>Quinn sighed. She remembered they used to fight like that about Daria, forever ago.</p><p>At least Fashion Club meetings let her worry about something else.</p><p> </p><p>*********</p><p> </p><p>“Do you guys remember those fashion seminars we tried to hold like, two years ago? Do you think we should try that again, Muthsera Morgendorffer?”</p><p>It was Sundas afternoon at the Glass Crown, and Quinn was trying hard to pay attention.</p><p>“Uh, yeah, that sounds great, Satheri,” she said.</p><p>“Best of all, we don’t have to worry about Synda anymore.”</p><p>“Or her Haute Society,” Treads-on-Ferns added.</p><p>“Synda… needed… to keep a better eye… on her… guy…”</p><p>Satheri giggled. “And now she’s like, completely disgraced! I don’t have to be nice to her anymore.” She grinned and got so excited she started shaking her fists.</p><p>“Good riddance,” Treads said.</p><p>“Has anyone seen her?” Quinn asked.</p><p>“I randomly saw her with her parents outside Lli’s office last week,” Jeval said. “She looked messed up.”</p><p>“Messed up how?” Satheri demanded. She was a little too into the whole thing.</p><p>Jeval shrugged. “I dunno. Like she was trying to hide. She had this big hood.”</p><p>“Ugh, gross!” Satheri exclaimed.</p><p>“Guys, let’s not talk about Synda, okay? She’s basically history, anyway,” Quinn said.</p><p>Quinn knew she’d be pretty upset if someone like Daria had stolen a boyfriend from her, but Synda sounded more upset. Like she’d lost everything. Back on Stirk, there had been this sweet old lady, Tivulia, whose husband drowned on a fishing trip. She’d screamed and wailed when his crew came back without him.</p><p>Synda had sounded like Tivulia.</p><p>No way could a guy be that good. There was always someone else. If you could get one noble guy as a commoner, you could probably figure out how to get a second. Something else had been going on with Synda.</p><p>Satheri smiled. “I’m so glad I followed you, Muthsera Morgendorffer.”</p><p>“Uh, sure thing,” Quinn said, getting a little creeped out. Ugh, she needed some time to think and get everything straightened out. No wonder Daria hated hanging out with people. </p><p>Everyone looked at her like they wanted her to say something. “Sorry guys, what were we talking about?”</p><p>“Doing the fashion seminars again,” Treads said.</p><p>“Oh, right!” But that was like the last thing she wanted to do right now. Maybe she should delegate this. “So what should we talk about? Tiphannia, I’m sure you must have some ideas.”</p><p>“I have… tons… of ideas… for fashion…”</p><p>At least Quinn could think about something else while she waited for Tiphannia to finish.</p><p> </p><p>*********</p><p> </p><p>Home was the last place Quinn wanted to be, so she walked everyone else home first. Tiphannia and Satheri lived close by, but Jeval lived near the strider port and Treads-on-Ferns lived in Labor Town by the river, so that let her stay out a while longer. She went south along the Odai with them, the late day merchants still making their pitches.</p><p>Mom and dad didn’t like her staying out late anymore. The Labor Town protests kept getting bigger, and she’d heard a few had turned into fights. </p><p>“Is your sister okay, Quinn?” Treads suddenly asked.</p><p>“Huh? Uh, I think so. She sent this letter where she says she’s living at some manor out in the countryside. I’m pretty sure she’s not in any trouble, but my parents are freaking out because the Sloans are nobles.”</p><p>“I’m sorry,” Treads said.</p><p>“It makes me so mad! Like she ran off and did this without thinking about anyone else!” Quinn threw her hands in the air, wishing Daria was there so she could like, scream at her or something. “It’s what she always does.”</p><p>“What did she say in the letter?” Treads asked.</p><p>“She said she was okay. She was still being a jerk about everything, so she was probably telling the truth. I wish I knew for sure.”</p><p>“Hey, Jeval,” Treads said. “Your dad’s a courier, right?”</p><p>“Uh-huh.”</p><p>“Do you think he’d take a job to go over to where Daria is? Maybe he could deliver a message from the rest of the Morgendorffers.”</p><p>“Hey, yeah, that’s a good idea!” Jeval said. “My dad’s actually out on delivery right now, but he should be home in a couple of days.”</p><p>Quinn suddenly hugged Treads. She had so many good ideas. Daria was right about that, at least. “Ohmigosh, thank you! It’s so scary and weird right now.”</p><p>“Hold on a sec,” came Jeval’s voice. “I don’t know my dad’s schedule. He can do it if he’s free, but you might have to wait if he has another assignment lined up.”</p><p>Quinn let go of Treads and looked at Jeval. Last year, he and his friends would be competing for her, each one saying he’d deliver the message and bring her some crazy present. She’d have totally gone for it, too. Or let them keep fighting each other for the best offer.</p><p>Ugh, how had she ever been so silly? </p><p>“I get it. But if he’s free, could you let me know?” Quinn asked.</p><p>“Sure thing. Do you know where Daria is?” Jeval asked.</p><p>“She said she was in Ravil Manor. I don’t know why she isn’t in Sloan Manor, or whatever.”</p><p>Jeval stroked his chin like he was thinking about something. “All the rich guys have country homes out in the Ascadian Isles, so the manor’s probably there.”</p><p>“Would your dad know how to find Ravil Manor?” Quinn asked.</p><p>He looked unsure. “I don’t think so. My dad doesn’t work for nobles, those guys all got their own messengers for this kind of thing. They don’t like to advertise where they live, either.”</p><p>Plus, Quinn thought, she couldn’t be sure if the Sloans or Ravils or whatever would take the message.</p><p>“Okay. Let me like, think about this for a bit. Jeval, can you tell me when your dad gets back?”</p><p>“Promise.”</p><p>“Thanks. You guys are great friends.”</p><p> </p><p>*********</p><p> </p><p>Dad was yelling again.</p><p>“Varro was useless! What the hell are our taxes paying for?”</p><p>Mom and dad were down in the kitchen, but Quinn could still hear them upstairs. She turned over in her bed. Her room was way too quiet.</p><p>She thought about what Jeval had said. Maybe all she could do was send a letter to the manor and hope that the Sloans were nice enough to accept something from a commoner like her. Her cheeks suddenly burned. What was so bad about being a commoner?</p><p>Ugh, this whole system sucked.</p><p>She needed a noble to be on her side. Briltasi? Or wait, didn’t Jane work for a noble, now? Maybe Jane could pull some strings or something. </p><p>Quinn didn’t know the Dunmer that well. Sure, she knew Satheri like a sister. Actually, wait, not like a sister. She barely knew her real sister. But Satheri was almost a loner with the other Dunmer. Maybe that’s why she was so happy about Synda’s big meltdown.</p><p>Maybe Satheri could point her in the right direction.</p><p> </p><p>*********</p><p> </p><p>Everyone knew that Morndas sucked, but it sucked slightly less if you looked your best.</p><p>Quinn focused that morning. She put all thoughts of Daria aside and put on her favorite yellow moth-silk gown, the one with the sewn-in lace cuffs, and accessorized for non-formal occasions (so netch leather shoes, a copper necklace that looked gold in the right light, a lapis lazuli brooch, and a few other essentials). For her hair, she decided to go all out like the Nibenese ladies did (or at least, how they did a few years ago, which was current enough in Balmora) by piling her red locks up on top of her scalp and curling a few of them. She’d need a handmaiden or something to do it properly, but looking right was usually better than being right.</p><p>She ran into Satheri on the way to school, which suited her perfectly.</p><p>“I was wondering something,” Quinn said. “Do you like, know anyone who knows the Sloans?”</p><p>“Me? Oh, no. I’m not important enough for that. I once met Serjo Sloan. The son, I mean. He seemed nice. Daria must be so happy with him!”</p><p>Quinn pretended not to be annoyed. “I know! My mom and dad are like super-proud of her right now.”</p><p>“Oh!” Satheri gasped, clasping her hands together, “I’m sure! My mom says that Serjo Sloan the Younger is one of the most eligible young bachelors in Vvardenfell District. Your sister’s so lucky. But I’m sure you’ll marry a noble too, Muthsera Morgendorffer. I’m arranged to be married to one, so we’ll be in like the same social circles and can stay best friends forever!”</p><p>“I know, I can’t wait!” Quinn said. “It’s just that my mom wants to send Daria a letter of congratulations, and to ask her to tell us, you know, when the wedding will be and all that.”</p><p>“That’s such a good idea.”</p><p>Time for the real question. “But we’re not sure how to reach her. Can we like send a letter? Or should we ask someone first?”</p><p>Satheri looked down at the ground like she always did when she was trying to figure something out. At least she didn’t furrow her brow anymore, Quinn had trained her out of that. “That could be tough. Briltasi—I mean, Serjo Talori—might know him. I’m not sure, though.”</p><p>“I was thinking about asking her. Oh, do you remember Jane? That friend of my sister’s with all the art stuff?”</p><p>Satheri nodded. “Yeah?”</p><p>“Didn’t some noble lady or something hire her? Do you know who? I think Daria told me, but I forgot.”</p><p>“I’m sorry, Muthsera Morgendorffer. I won’t be a noble until marriage, so I don’t know much about what they do. I guess I should start learning so I don’t look like a complete idiot.”</p><p>Quinn nodded. Satheri wouldn’t be able to help much.</p><p>She ditched Satheri (in a nice way) once she got to school and searched for Briltasi. Not like it was ever hard to find her. All she had to do was follow the sound of Dunmer girls chatting. Briltasi and her friends hung out under the big emperor parasol that day. Most of the girls who used to be in Synda’s Haute Society had joined Briltasi, which Quinn guessed was an improvement.</p><p>Quinn took out her brass hand mirror and pretended to fuss with her hair while she waited for Briltasi to be alone. She knew better than to interrupt a queen at her court, even if the queen was as nice as Briltasi.</p><p>She swooped in right when the bell rang. “Hi, Briltasi! How was that party at Sera Llervis’s on Loredas? I wish I could have gone.”</p><p>“Oh, hi Quinn! Yeah, it was lots of fun. I’m surprised you weren’t there.”</p><p>“I wanted to go, but there was like this big charity thing to get clothes for poor kids,” Quinn lied. She’d stayed home because, well, things were a mess at home and she had to take care of them.</p><p>Briltasi tilted her head. “Aw, you’re so sweet, Quinn!”</p><p>“I try to be! Who was at the party?”</p><p>Quinn didn’t care that much. But she needed to keep talking about the social stuff before she asked her question. Briltasi went on about it, giving Quinn an idea as to who was in and who was out. In other words, the important kinds of things to know about.</p><p>“… Rovern Draalo was there, too. He’s like way bigger than his dad, it’s funny!”</p><p>“No way! Oh, wait, are the Draalos like nobles?” Quinn asked. That at least got them on the subject.</p><p>Briltasi giggled. “No, silly! He’s not important or anything. Though his family is respectable.”</p><p>Quinn made a show of putting her palm to her brow like she was embarrassed. “Sorry! These are kind of complicated for an outlander girl like me.”</p><p>“Aw, it’s okay! You’re not that important, so you don’t have to worry about it.”</p><p>“Speaking of nobles, do you know the Sloans?”</p><p>Briltasi shook her head. “Not really. Serjo Sloan the Younger seemed nice. He’s sort of cute... oh, wait, your sister’s dating him, huh?”</p><p>“Yeah—”</p><p>“That’s so cool! Anyway, the Sloans just got to Vvardenfell, so no one knows them that well.”</p><p>“I’m trying to write a letter to Daria. I figured if she’s dating a noble, maybe she can get me one, too—”</p><p>“You could totally get one!”</p><p>“—but I’m not sure how to get in touch with the Sloans. I know they’re at Ravil Manor, but I don’t know where that is.”</p><p>“I can ask Serjo Driler,” Briltasi said.</p><p>“Who’s that?”</p><p>“He hosted the Sloans when they were here.”</p><p>“Could you?” Quinn made a big show of it, got her eyes to water a bit. “Oh, thank you so much, Briltasi!”</p><p>“I’m always happy to help.”</p><p>“I owe you big time.”</p><p>“Don’t worry about it! I owe Daria a favor, so I’ll repay her by not making you owe me anything. Daria helped me by not telling anyone I’m dating Kavon.” Briltasi’s eyes suddenly got big. “Uh, ‘cause I’m <em>not</em> dating Kavon! And she didn’t tell anyone I wasn’t not dating Kavon, so… uh…”</p><p>Quinn smiled. “Oh, I had one more teensy question: do you know who hired Jane?”</p><p>“Jane?”</p><p>“You know, Daria’s friend? The artist?”</p><p>“Oh yeah, the menial!” She looked like she was trying to think. “I can ask Serjo Driler!”</p><p>“Thanks again! I gotta run to class, but you’re the best, Briltasi!”</p><p>“I am, aren’t I!”</p><p>Quinn smiled until Briltasi turned, and then relaxed. She <em>had</em> this.</p><p> </p><p>*********</p><p> </p><p>Briltasi told Quinn the bad news first: she didn’t know where Ravil Manor was (or Serjo Driler wouldn’t tell her). But she did learn that Serjo Olerlo had hired Jane. The Olerlos had a place in Balmora, but they lived in Vivec, which is where Jane would also be.</p><p>At lunch, Jeval told her that his dad was free for an assignment, but that she had to move fast before he took another job.</p><p>Okay, so nobody knew where Ravil Manor was. She did know where Jane was. So what she had to do was hire Jeval’s dad to take a message to Jane in Vivec City. Since the people who worked for nobles still had to get stuff delivered to them sometimes, right?</p><p>Ugh, she wished she had a better plan than this.</p><p>Maybe she could get one.</p><p>Quinn looked for Jolda at lunch. She wasn’t sure if Jolda could help that much, since she wasn’t a noble or a Dunmer. But she did work with like, the government or something, and they had a ton of maps, didn’t they?</p><p>She found Jolda in the library with this big scary scroll full of numbers stretched out on the table. As always, she stared at the stuff like her life depended on it. Jolda had such pretty eyes, and Quinn hated to think they’d get bloodshot from all the work she did.</p><p>“Hi, Jolda?” Quinn greeted.</p><p>Jolda looked up. “Oh, hi Quinn. What’s going on?”</p><p>“Not too much.”</p><p>“Have you heard from Daria?” Jolda asked.</p><p>“I got a letter from her. That’s sort of why I’m here. Daria’s staying with Tomal and we’re all worried.”</p><p>Jolda sighed like she’d heard bad news. “I bet. I feel bad about what happened with her.”</p><p>“It’s not your fault, Jolda.”</p><p>“I know. I just wish it could have worked out better. What did she say in her letter?”</p><p>“She said she’s fine, but I want to know for sure,” Quinn admitted.</p><p>“That’s understandable.”</p><p>“Daria said she’s staying at a place called Ravil Manor. Do you think you could find out where that is? My friend’s dad is a courier, so maybe I can get him to send something there.”</p><p>Jolda brightened. “I know where that is! My dad made me intern at the Imperial Cartographic Society office last winter, and we looked over some maps of the Ascadian Isles. Ravil Manor’s a little corkbulb farm five-and-a-half miles east of Pelagiad.”</p><p>Well, that was easier than Quinn had expected. “Oh, that’s great! Thank you so much, Jolda.”</p><p>“Sure thing. I don’t like the way nobles run roughshod over people either. I’ve heard that the Sloans are nice, but who knows for sure? The Crowns back in Hammerfell were bad enough…”</p><p>“I don’t think Daria’s in any trouble, but I better write the letter and get it sent! Thank you so much again, Jolda!”</p><p>Quinn flat-out skipped Sera Ondryn’s afternoon class (because who cared about <em>him</em>?) and walked straight home to tell mom and dad her plan.</p><p>“I can’t believe this!” dad raged. “We’re citizens, dammit! These nobles don’t have all the rights. Helen, find me the local Morag Tong office! I’m sure they can track her down for us!”</p><p>“I’m not sure that’s a good idea, Jake—”</p><p>“Well, I’m all out of good ideas! Time to try some bad ones!”</p><p>Quinn imagined what mom and dad would write to Daria. Dad would get super angry, and mom would lecture Daria until she never wanted to come home.</p><p>Clearly, this was up to Quinn.</p><p>Quinn crept up to her room and sat down at Daria’s desk. Maybe that’d help her get into the spirit or whatever. She could do this. Letter-writing was for cool people.</p><p>But she still wasn’t sure what to say. Usually, all she had to say was how pretty, or handsome, or how cool someone was, and they’d do anything she asked. People loved attention, and they loved it more when she gave attention to what they thought was a big deal about themselves, even if they actually sucked at it.</p><p>Daria was tough. She shot down most compliments. When they were kids, Quinn had tried telling Daria how smart and well-read she was, since that was what Daria cared about. Maybe that way they wouldn’t be so lonely and could play together the way other sisters did. But Daria got mad and called Quinn a flatterer (which was how she'd learned what flattery meant).</p><p>“Concentrate,” she whispered to herself.</p><p>Should she take the direct but risky chance with Ravil Manor? Or play it safe with Jane? </p><p>Clearly, she had to do both. Ask Jeval's dad to try and deliver to Ravil Manor, and then go to Jane if that didn't work.</p><p>“Well, here goes,” she muttered and started writing.</p><p>She did the easy part first: a letter to Jane, asking her to relay a message to Daria, maybe with Serjo Olerlo's personal courier. Then she tackled the letter to her sister.</p><p> </p><p><em>Daria –</em></p><p><em>I hope you get this letter. I’m sure you’re having a lot of fun with Serjo Sloan. Serjo Talori tells me he’s one of the most eligible bachelors in Vvardenfell.</em></p><p><em>Mom and dad know Serjo Sloan’s a great guy, and that his family is honorable. But you’re their elder daughter and you didn’t even say goodbye! That’s why they’re worried about you. They think they did something to make you run away, and they’d really like to see you.</em></p><p><em>I want to see you, too. I know we don’t always get along, but you’ve always been like a rock for us. Mom gets so driven and work-obsessed, and you know how dad flies off the handle sometimes. And me, well I’m pretty great, but maybe I do spend too much time and money on stuff like fashion. You’re stable, though. You keep things going.</em></p><p><em>No one here is mad at you (well, mom is a little, but she’ll get over it). We just want to see you again. If you get this, please come home to say hi. It’d mean a lot.</em></p><p><em>- Your sister, Quinn</em></p><p> </p><p>Quinn was crying when she finished. At least she hadn’t worn any kohl that day. Tears made her face all gross and puffy, but she didn’t care. She sobbed into her silk handkerchief, wishing she’d taken more time to get along with her odd, confusing, difficult, and absolutely fantastic sister.</p><p>She kept going until she was all out of tears. Then she walked to her cabinet and took out the small sandalwood box where she kept her coins and counted them out. Unfortunately, she came up short. She'd need eighteen more septims to get Jeval's dad to visit both Ravil Manor and Vivec.</p><p>“Ooh,” she uttered, frustrated.</p><p>Then she remembered something and smiled. Quinn walked over to Daria’s bookshelf and rifled through the tomes until she found a bulging cloth bag behind some boring history book that wasn’t even written in verse. Opening it up, she took out eighteen septims, and then twenty more.</p><p>She totally deserved a gratuity for all this.</p><p><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NIPPh7AWSt4" target="_blank">Musical Closer – The Sign, by Ace of Base</a></p><p><strong>The End</strong></p><p><a href="https://theskyforge.ning.com/groups/the-story-corner/general-forum/a-comedy-of-manors-daria-in-morrowind-episode-28" target="_blank">Episode 28: A Comedy of Manors</a> | <a href="https://theskyforge.ning.com/groups/the-story-corner/general-forum/daria-in-morrowind-table-of-contents" target="_blank">Table of Contents</a> | <a href="https://theskyforge.ning.com/groups/the-story-corner/general-forum/the-cantons-of-vivec-daria-in-morrowind-episode-30" target="_blank">Episode 30: The Cantons of Vivec</a></p></div>A Comedy of Manors (Daria in Morrowind: Episode 28)https://TheSkyForge.ning.com/groups/the-story-corner/general-forum/a-comedy-of-manors-daria-in-morrowind-episode-282021-04-10T18:14:22.000Z2021-04-10T18:14:22.000ZWellTemperedClavierhttps://TheSkyForge.ning.com/members/WellTemperedClavier<div><p><a href="{{#staticFileLink}}8779730688,RESIZE_1200x{{/staticFileLink}}"><img class="align-full" src="{{#staticFileLink}}8779730688,RESIZE_710x{{/staticFileLink}}" alt="8779730688?profile=RESIZE_710x" width="710" /></a></p><p><strong>Chapter 1</strong></p><p>Daria knew something was wrong when she woke up and realized that the blurry darkness in front of her eyes was not the same blurry darkness she usually woke up to.</p><p>She reached out to grab her glasses from the side of the desk to her left. Her fingers only encountered the rough surface of an adobe wall.</p><p>That’s when it all came back to her: mom’s fury, the chaos at the pageant, fleeing Balmora with the Sloans, reaching Ravil Manor, and being given the guesthouse servant’s quarters (“It’s normally for servants <em>of</em> our guests, not for our servants who might attend to the guests,” as Serjo Ravil had been very insistent on making clear).</p><p>Not that she served the Sloans. But no one knew where else to put her, so the guesthouse servant’s quarters it was. Tomal had admitted the pageant’s events, and his own relationship with Synda (and now Daria), to his father. Serjo Angyar Sloan had kept his temper and simply gone along with things.</p><p>But she suspected that, no matter what Tomal said, there’d be a reckoning sooner or later.</p><p>Daria finally remembered that she’d put her glasses next to the washbasin on the small table to her right. She groped for a few moments before finding and putting them on. Her vision cleared but stayed dark save for a sliver of light shining between the shutters. Throwing off the sheet, she ambled over to the shutters and opened them.</p><p>The world beyond stole her breath away. Her room looked out upon an Ascadian Isles meadow green and bursting with life. A cool breeze swayed the tall grasses and rustled the leaves of the trees that clustered tall and thick atop the surrounding hills. The loamy smell of growth emanated from rich black soil nurtured by rain and ash for thousands of years. Above, a herd of betty netches drifted like baubles of bright blue glass through the clear and capacious skies.</p><p>She let her eyes linger on the scene for a bit. Certainly, a far cry from Balmora’s dust and grime, where Quinn would be waking up to a room occupied only by her. Quinn had certainly wished for that in the past.</p><p>Time to get dressed and find out what the day had in store. She walked to the trunk where she’d folded her travel-stained clothes, only to notice a bundle of pale blue fabric by her door. A note had been placed on top.</p><p> </p><p><em>Madam Daria Morgendorffer –</em></p><p><em>As an honored guest of my guest, Serjo Sloan the Younger (and by extension, the Elder), I would like to extend my warmest welcome. Enclosed, you will find one of my daughter’s old gowns, which you are free to wear. My daughter is married to Serjo Mildryn Sethedras of Ud Hleryn, a man of great prestige, and has no need for her old wardrobe.</em></p><p><em>- Serjo Rathan Ravil</em></p><p> </p><p>She picked up the folded dress, the high-quality moth-silk soft and slippery in her hands. Beneath that, she found a pair of slippers.</p><p>These were the kinds of clothes that’d drive Quinn mad with envy if she saw Daria wearing them. Keeping the window open for light, Daria got dressed behind a folding paper screen set up for modesty’s sake, imagining her sister’s reaction and enjoying every moment of it.</p><p>Unfortunately, while the gown surely fit Hlaalu fashion standards, it didn’t fit her. It wrapped tightly around her calves and loosely around her waist. Everywhere else the garment sagged where it should have slimmed and clung to her where it ought to have given room.</p><p>She looked at herself in the mirror (made of real glass) next to the small fireplace. At least the ill-fitting dress matched her disheveled hair and blotchy complexion. Maybe it was a bad idea to test Tomal’s attraction this early. On the other hand, she kind of hoped her appearance would at least moderately annoy one of his family members.</p><p>Daria shook her head. No, none of that. She was on her last social support. Carrying on like she usually did was no longer an option. She needed to do her best, however paltry that was.</p><p>As she brushed her hair and washed her face (inadvertently soaking her sleeves), she tried not to think about the fact that, in a few minutes, she’d be having breakfast with one of Morrowind’s wealthiest families.</p><p> </p><p>*********</p><p> </p><p>“Ah, Madam Daria! Good of you to join us,” Angyar said.</p><p>The Sloans had all gathered at the grand banquet table in Serjo Ravil's manor house. Morning light beamed through the three narrow windows behind the head of the table, where Ravil sat. Tapestries decorated by lush forest scenes in the High Rock style covered the walls, and the table itself was made of some dark tropical wood. Aside from the adobe construction, only the cylindrical paper lanterns over the table (currently unlit) felt like something from Morrowind.</p><p>Ravil offered a faint smile, but his eyes studied her as if appraising an asset and finding it wanting. Daria suddenly suspected that he’d known full well his daughter’s dress wouldn’t fit her.</p><p>She took a seat next to Tomal.</p><p>“Good morning, Daria,” Tomal said. “I hope you slept well.”</p><p>Conscious of Ravil’s gaze burning holes into her, she nodded. “I did. Uh, thanks to the host for, uh, appointing his servant’s quarters—excuse me, guesthouse servant’s quarters—so lavishly.”</p><p>“The servants of the Ravils live like princes,” Ravil said. “Yet even my generosity pales compared to that of the honorable Serjo Sloan!”</p><p>Angyar Sloan smiled. “Magnanimity is the virtue of the strong, good serjo.”</p><p>No surprise that Angyar looked a lot like an older version of Tomal, one with all the raffish charm polished out to a high-class sheen. His wife, Galas, was every inch a proper and wealthy Dunmer lady. Her short hair and bright moth-silk shirt and trousers told the world that she quite liked the Empire.</p><p>Breakfast turned out to be a blend of Dunmer and Nibenese Imperial cuisine: white rice and fried river fish with bushels of fresh comberries. All of it served on silver plates, with bitter Elswyer coffee poured into tiny silver cups.</p><p>“I’m sure our Imperial guest appreciates the rice,” Ravil said. “Does it remind you of home?”</p><p>Daria wondered how much she could get away with. The idea of guest right was foreign to Dunmer society. The Sloans’ power and wealth meant they’d always have a host, but Daria wouldn’t get any leeway.</p><p>“I do enjoy it,” she finally said. “But I was born on an island off the Gold Coast, so I mostly grew up with bread and fish.”</p><p>Ravil’s eyes widened ever so slightly. “Oh! I did not know that Cyrodiilic cuisine had such variety.”</p><p>“Same variety found in every province,” Daria said.</p><p>He gave a bitter laugh and glared at her through a veil of steam rising from his coffee. “You must excuse my provincialism, madam.”</p><p>Daria, who’d been lifting a fork-full of rice to her mouth, paused. Was this a trap?</p><p>“Your cook did an excellent job, Serjo Ravil,” Galas said. “Tomal and I would know, we spent some years in the Imperial City.”</p><p>Ravil raised his goblet. “I am pleased that my cook’s done well. Only the best for those under my roof, wherever they may be from.”</p><p>The Ravils and the elder Sloans chatted all through breakfast, Tomal occasionally commenting as required. Midway through, he reached under the table and grasped Daria’s hand.</p><p>Suddenly, the breakfast no longer seemed so oppressive.</p><p>Upon finishing the meal, she and Tomal walked out into the big courtyard. Like a lot of country homes in the Ascadian Isles, Ravil Manor still paid lip service to its original agricultural use. Leafy corkbulbs sprouted in neat rows from the rich soil within the enclosure and a few other fields dotted the surrounding lands.</p><p>“Sorry about that,” Tomal said.</p><p>“I suppose it’s how menials are usually treated in these situations. I guess I’ll have to give credit to Serjo Ravil for at least being an abolitionist,” she said, observing the workers (mostly Dunmer) search the undersides of the corkbulb leaves for parasites.</p><p>“Not exactly an abolitionist. He freed his slaves, but I don’t think he particularly cares whether or not other people own slaves.”</p><p>“Did he do anything to help them afterward?”</p><p>Tomal was silent for a bit. “Probably not. Would you really have struck out on your own if I told you Serjo Ravil used forced labor?”</p><p>“Absolutely,” Daria said. She’d made the ultimatum a few minutes after she’d asked to go to Ravil Manor. If Ravil had been a slave-owner, she’d have fled to Caldera or Ald’ruhn and try to leverage her friendship with Amelia or Dimartani. Golthyn, rather, but she still thought of him as Dimartani. In fact, trying with Amelia would have been a lot safer and smarter than going with Tomal.</p><p>“Good. That’s what I like about you, Daria,” Tomal said.</p><p>Did he? Or was he just saying that?</p><p>“So, as a menial, am I required to quietly hide myself in a storage room until I’m needed?” Daria asked.</p><p>“Dad knows you’re my girlfriend—”</p><p>“And I can tell he’s not thrilled with it.”</p><p>“It was an awkward situation. But you’re fine for now. You’ll do what we do.”</p><p>“In other words, get trotted out for garden parties, hunting trips, and boating adventures. The only upside is knowing that Quinn won’t get them despite spending her entire life praying for things that I still see as annoyances.”</p><p>Tomal laughed. “Oh, there are other things to do around here. Serjo Ravil’s got a great library.”</p><p>“Will he let my uncouth hands touch the pages?”</p><p>Tomal put his arm around her waist. She smiled without intending to, not the usual guarded half-smile but a full-fledged one that made her feel as bright as the morning sun.</p><p>How embarrassing.</p><p>“I’ll make sure you aren’t bothered. Come on, let’s go. I think he has a copy of <em>Confessions of a Skooma-Eater.</em>”</p><p>Daria looked at Tomal, still smiling and feeling mostly okay with herself for doing so. “How scandalous. Let’s check it out.”</p><p>Maybe the Ravil Manor wouldn’t be too bad. But she knew it was too early to let down her guard. She was stuck here and had no idea what would come next.</p><p>Life had felt a lot more secure with mom and dad (and Quinn) around.</p><p><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fgT9zGkiLig" target="_blank">Musical Closer – Drive, by Incubus</a></p><p><strong>Chapter 2</strong></p><p>It was mid-morning of Daria’s second day at Ravil Manor, and she was bored.</p><p>The library beckoned, but judging by how Serjo Ravil had kept sending a servant to check on her and Tomal the other day, it wasn’t a place she was welcome to visit on her own. That, or the servant wanted to make sure they weren’t… <em>doing </em>anything.</p><p>The thought of which gave her more than a little bit of discomfort.</p><p>She idled beneath the shade of a big mushroom, nostalgic for Drenlyn’s comparatively cozy library, when Tomal rode into the courtyard atop a rose-colored guar. He ably steered the two-legged lizard around the corkbulb plot to her side, and extended his hand.</p><p>Daria stared at it for a moment, not sure what to say. Finally, she said: “Four fingers and a thumb. Your hand looks normal to me.”</p><p>“Any interest in joining me on an excursion to Lake Amaya?” Tomal asked. “Come on, we have to fill up at least a few of the rural vacation cliches.”</p><p>“Hm, doesn’t the lakeside idyll usually come after a few awkward misunderstandings that give hint to our feelings while still keeping the reader in some level of suspense as to whether or not we’ll get together?”</p><p>He shrugged. “We kind of covered that in Balmora, I think. More efficient this way.”</p><p>Daria looked around. It sounded nice, but she still didn’t know Tomal all that well yet. “I’ll go,” she said, “but I don’t want to go quite that far. Are there any scenic spots closer to the manor?”</p><p>“There’s a little hilltop glade not far from here. We’ll be within sight.”</p><p>“Okay. My travel clothes are still in the wash, so I guess I’ll have to stick with this second gown I got today.”</p><p>She plucked at her sleeve. The new gown fit as badly as the old one, but in entirely different places, and was colored a dark purple.</p><p>“It has a very avant-garde look,” Tomal said. “Like you’re wearing a giant bruise or something.”</p><p>“With the way this thing pinches my shoulders and waist, I probably will be a giant bruise by evening,” she said.</p><p>“And you thought aristocratic life was easy! Here, you should probably ride side-saddle.”</p><p>Daria managed to perch herself atop the guar after some finagling, her legs dangling off the beast’s right flank. A dozen new discomforts assailed her: the guar’s knobby spine, her off-balance position, the way she kept bumping into Tomal once he started riding. Putting her arms around his waist helped a bit, but the constant up-and-down motion still jarred her.</p><p>A few minutes beyond the manor, and Daria wanted to get off the beast.</p><p>She persevered as Tomal rode up a grassy hill unmarked by any roads but garbed in wildflowers of gold and magenta, the top crowned by a grove of ancient willows. Daria shivered in delight as the willows’ soft tresses brushed against her head and shoulders as they passed under, and the shade beneath the canopy offered a twilit realm of green shadows and glassy blue flowers. From there she saw more of the surrounding lands: the gentle hills and the gleaming surface of Lake Amaya a few miles to the north. Beyond that, dour as always, Red Mountain with all its grim portent.</p><p>“You do have an eye for natural beauty,” Daria said, as she dismounted.</p><p>“With you a fine example of the same.”</p><p>She blushed. Gods, no wonder Quinn loved the praise. It felt kind of foolish on some level, though. What was so impressive about being lauded for her looks when she hadn’t put much effort into them? It used to be so much easier for her to keep people at a distance.</p><p>They settled down around a small mossy boulder, the position offering a willow-framed view of the lake’s blue waters. A chorus of tiny insects (and perhaps some not-so-tiny ones) chirped and clicked beneath the stones and between the blades of grass. Tomal took out one of the saddlebags and produced a meal of wickwheat bread, scrib jelly, a few apples, and a small bottle of rice wine.</p><p>Daria had to admit it felt almost perfect. Some part of her had always been terrified that romance was exactly the way Quinn made it look: a subtle and never-ending test of social ability, with the value of one’s partner reduced to how far up the social ladder they could take you. That maybe all of those silly books about real romance really were silly and best confined to the library.</p><p>This day felt like a vindication.</p><p>But she had to set some things straight. Daria propped herself up on her elbows. She ought to have talked about this at the manor, or better yet, back in Balmora. She’d just hated the idea of his dad or Ravil overhearing.</p><p>“Uh, Tomal?”</p><p>“Yeah?”</p><p>She took in a deep breath. “How, uh, far did you, uh, take things with Synda?”</p><p>Tomal’s brow furrowed. “Beg pardon?”</p><p>Daria blushed. “You know what I mean.”</p><p>“Oh? Oh! Well, let me put it this way: there is zero chance that Synda is pregnant. Or if she is, it’s not from me.”</p><p>That was good to hear. “Okay. As for me, I’m pretty new at relationships. As in, brand new.”</p><p>“That’s fine.”</p><p>“I’m not sure if this whole physical contact thing is something I’m comfortable with. What I’m trying to say is, I’m not …”</p><p>She knew her face glowed as bright as Masser on the night of the Summer Solstice.</p><p>“I’d prefer to stick with kisses for the foreseeable future,” she finally spat out. “I need you to promise me that you’re okay with that. If you aren’t, then I’d probably best get packing.”</p><p>Tomal was silent for a moment. “That’s fine, Daria. You’ll set the speed for this.”</p><p>“You’re not bothered?” she asked.</p><p>“I’d definitely like to get more intimate at some point. But only when you’re comfortable with it. If that takes a few years, so be it. Besides, I’m Mer, I’ve got plenty of years left.”</p><p>“Rub it in why don’t you.”</p><p>But her heart soared. She was safe with him.</p><p>Except her big brain refused to stop thinking, especially regarding his last comment. Since yes, Mer did live a lot longer and age a lot slower. If they stayed together and both reached age eighty, she’d look like an eighty-year-old woman while Tomal stayed in the bloom of youth. If he got tired of her, there wouldn’t be much she could do to stop him from wandering, especially with how much power his family held.</p><p>Plenty of Man-Mer relationships worked out fine. Plenty more fell apart. As for noble-commoner relationships... well, they almost always worked out well for the noble.</p><p>“Daria?”</p><p>She blinked, Tomal’s voice jerking her back to reality. “Sorry. I’m not very good at enjoying the moment. But thanks for, uh, making it a lot easier.”</p><p>“I’m glad.”</p><p>Daria blushed again. Suddenly dizzy, she lowered her eyes, conscious of her heartbeats sounding as loud as drumbeats. “Right. I, uh, like sharing things with you.”</p><p>Gods, that sounded stupid.</p><p>“How about sharing a few more of those kisses?” Tomal said.</p><p>A moment later, they did just that.</p><p><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1ASpBpT8bRQ" target="_blank">Musical Closer – Just Like Heaven, by The Cure</a></p><p><strong>Chapter 3</strong></p><p>The next week proved so idyllic that Daria immediately became suspicious.</p><p>Each day, she awoke in a comfortable bed, donned fine clothes (which, admittedly, never quite fit), and spent the day eating fine food, perusing the library, or exploring the countryside, either on her own or with Tomal.</p><p>Nothing was this nice.</p><p>Suspicious of the Ravils, she eavesdropped on the conversations of the serving staff to find out what they truly thought of their employer. But it seemed Ravil was neither a cruel ogre nor a benevolent patriarch. He was simply a boss. The workers complained about him, but didn’t bear him any real anger.</p><p>They resented her more than anyone else there. To them, she was “the outlander”, a boorish and unwelcome intrusion on their lives. She supposed that’s what the Empire was from Morrowind’s perspective.</p><p>Daria still sensed some dislike from Ravil and his wife. Angyar and Galas, on the other hand, were pleasant though distant. Wouldn’t they resent her at least a little bit for scandalizing them? For causing trouble with the Grilvayns?</p><p>“I well remember the passions of youth,” Galas said at tea one afternoon. “What you and Tomal did was certainly not appropriate, but no lasting harm was done to our name. Besides, Tomal seems quite taken with you.”</p><p>Which raised more questions. Tomal had never told his parents about Synda until after the pageant, but why not? If they were okay with Daria, wouldn’t they have been more okay with a respectable Dunmer girl? She didn’t know how to voice these questions to them without seeming rude, so she asked Tomal.</p><p>“Dating is tricky when you’re in a family like mine, Daria,” he said.</p><p>“Tough to choose from all the eligible young Dunmer maidens throwing themselves at your feet?”</p><p>A flicker of annoyance crossed his face. “There’s a lot at stake. Once the family knows about a relationship, they’re going to start making business arrangements, because, on some level, that’s what any marriage would be.”</p><p>“Gee, I hope I’m a valuable asset,” Daria said, crossing her arms.</p><p>“That doesn’t mean a marriage is without love. The only reason I didn’t tell my parents about Synda until after it was over was that I didn’t want the added pressure of both them and her trying to push us together.”</p><p>“But you don’t seem worried about that pressure with me.”</p><p>Tomal shrugged. “With respect, marrying a Morgendorffer would, in some ways, be less complicated than marrying a Grilvayn. You guys are outside the Great House Hlaalu power structure. Some would resent me for it, but probably not enough to do anything about it. Anyway, we had no choice but to be upfront with mom and dad, and they’re basically cool with it.”</p><p>Memories of Synda’s screams awoke Daria on some nights. Over and over again they echoed in her memory, and she’d lie there in the darkness, wondering what exactly had happened to the girl.</p><p>The elder Sloans hadn’t heard Synda’s screams. Daria doubted they’d have cared.</p><p>If they were okay with Tomal cheating on Synda, Daria thought, they won’t put up any fuss if he cheats on you.</p><p>“Dammit, brain,” she muttered.</p><p>But her brain had a point.</p><p>Tomal was not exactly idle during this time. Though he spent part of each day with Daria, he spent more working. The Sloan empire stretched far and wide, with more investments in Cyrodiil than in Morrowind (though the Hlaalu Council Company always got its cut). Tomal kept track of each investment, and helped ascertain the best prices and fees for the rice paddies, tanna plantations, mango orchards, and egg mines.</p><p>Angyar’s courier returned from Balmora at the end of the week. Packs stuffed with forms and records hung from her saddlebags, which she took off and brought to Angyar’s office in the guesthouse. These turned out to be the elder Sloan's correspondence and business dealings with the notables in the city. Daria barely saw Tomal the next few days, as he and his father worked to go through and respond to each one. While Imperial nobles had reputations as useless layabouts, the Dunmer aristocrats of any great house still led relatively demanding lives so far as she could tell.</p><p>“Oh, Daria,” Angyar said one morning. Both he and Tomal had dark circles beneath their eyes from the long hours spent working by candlelight the previous evening. “I’ll be sending the courier back to Balmora tomorrow. If you’d like to write a message to your family, I could have her deliver it.”</p><p>Part of her wanted to pour everything out on paper and send it to mom, just to connect with her and let her know that yes, she still lived and was okay.</p><p>Another wanted to cut everything off and move on.</p><p>“I would. I’ll write one today. Thank you, serjo,” she said.</p><p>More to the point, most Dunmer took family more seriously than anything else. If she was to impress Angyar (and stay with Tomal), she needed to play the part of a respectful and obedient daughter. Or at least do the best job she could, given the circumstances.</p><p>Daria sighed inwardly. Here she was, willingly altering her behavior to impress someone else. Where mom, the Empire, Drenlyn Academy, the Mages Guild, the IAS, and even a Telvanni wizard had failed, the Sloans had succeeded.</p><p>Was that all it took? A handsome face and the promise of money and easy living? The realization depressed her. Maybe she was only a lazier version of her mom, her diffidence a smokescreen for the same hungry ambition that had driven mom up through the legal world.</p><p>Daria returned to her room and dragged the squat table next to the window for light. Placing a sheet of paper on the corkbulb-wood surface, she stared at it for a few minutes as she gathered her thoughts. What did she want to tell her family?</p><p>She told everything. With a storm’s fury, she unleashed the truth: every pent up hurt from the long years in Stirk’s sterile sunlight, the cruelties of Synda and the things Daria had done to protect herself, how much she missed Jane, her exhaustion with the world around her, and most of all herself for hating it but still sinking to its level.</p><p>Finished, she let the quill fall from her aching hand and sat back in her chair, heaving and soaked in sweat. She wanted to cry but no longer had the energy. Almost a dozen-and-a-half pages of cramped and jagged script surrounded her, all laid out around the table to dry.</p><p>If they knew the truth, she’d at least know what they really thought about her.</p><p>But what was the point? She’d already sunk her relationship with her own family. What did some rambling confessional accomplish?</p><p>Daria collected the pages and put them in a stack, not caring if the ink smeared. With bone-deep weariness, she took a new sheet and started writing.</p><p> </p><p><em>Dear Mom, Dad, and Quinn –</em></p><p><em>First, relax (especially you, dad). I’m staying as a guest of the Sloans in Ravil Manor, where they are also guests. It’s pretty cushy here. If you want to know what it’s like, ask Quinn to tell you her ideal life, and then trim 50% of the fantasy elements. I do get to wear fine moth-silk gowns imported from Cyrodiil on a daily basis. Feel free to remind her of this whenever you please.</em></p><p><em>How are you, Quinn? I’m sure you’re glad I’m no longer there to dim your popularity with my stubborn intellectualism. Are you still steward of the Fashion Club? If so, I’ll give you some sisterly advice: of your friends, Treads-on-Ferns is by far the smartest and most reliable, so listen to her.</em></p><p><em>Mom and dad, I know you’re worried about Tomal and me being together. Well, don’t. Tomal’s been nothing but a gentleman, and I’m still too boring to ever engage in any kind of passionate romance. In other words, it’ll be many years before I become a mother.</em></p><p><em>Tomal’s parents know that we’re in a relationship, and they seem to approve (or at least not mind). Marriage is a possibility, but I think you’d agree that it’s much too early for us to make specific plans for that yet.</em></p><p><em>I know that the circumstances of our parting were less than ideal, and I apologize for that. However, given the mess I made of things with Armand, I think we can both agree that I’m not a good fit for the family. It’s not your fault. I’ve always been a very strange person. I'm comfortable with that.</em></p><p><em>- Daria Morgendorffer</em></p><p> </p><p>This would do. It said nothing meaningful, which made it safe. As she waited for the ink to dry, she gathered up the papers from her previous letter, crumpled them up, and burned them in the fireplace. Then, she took the surviving letter to Angyar.</p><p>“Uh, I wrote a letter to my parents, Serjo Sloan,” she said. “I’d be grateful if your courier could bring it to them.”</p><p>He gave her a puzzled look. “Only one sheet of paper?”</p><p>“The initial draft was far more detailed, but has been redacted for security purposes,” she said.</p><p>Angyar blinked in confusion and then shrugged. “I suppose you Imperials are rather brusque, even to family.” He sounded vaguely disappointed. “She’ll deliver it to your parents.”</p><p>She rejoined them at dinner, wanting very badly to puncture the tension hanging over the table with a barbed comment or two. A single glance at the dour Ravils and the self-satisfied Sloans told her that this would be a terrible idea, and she wondered how long she could hold back. At least Tomal understood her.</p><p>Or pretended to. Maybe that was the best anyone could get.</p><p>The two of them walked around the grounds after the meal.</p><p>“Daria, my dad told me something this morning, and I think you should know,” Tomal blurted out.</p><p>Here it comes, Daria thought. She drew in her breath, readying herself for the worst possible news.</p><p>“The Grilvayns are coming to Ravil Manor in a few days.”</p><p>Somehow, that was worse than anything she imagined. “With Synda?”</p><p>Tomal shook his head. “No, just her parents. I guess they want to talk about what happened.”</p><p>“With knives drawn?”</p><p>“Please, Daria. The Grilvayns aren’t important enough to hire the Morag Tong to bump me off. No, this is to soothe hurt feelings and move on. Most likely my dad will offer them a favorable deal as a token. But I wanted to let you know since I suspect you don’t want to see them.”</p><p>She didn’t care for his tone. But why would Tomal be worried? Everything always worked out for him. “You’re so sure it’ll be that easy?” she asked.</p><p>Since Synda was someone who’d responded to insult by hiring thugs to attack Daria. That viciousness couldn’t have come from nowhere. She still hadn’t told Tomal about that.</p><p>“Why wouldn’t it be? Ultimately, everything in Hlaalu life is a business deal of one sort of another," he said.</p><p>Daria nodded but frowned. She wasn’t convinced the Grilvayns shared that viewpoint.</p><p><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0C3zgYW_FAM" target="_blank">Musical Closer – Islands in the Sun, by Weezer</a></p><p><strong>Chapter 4</strong></p><p>Seated in the lap of luxury and surrounded by miles of gorgeous countryside, Daria naturally spent the next day brooding about Synda and her parents.</p><p>The Grilvayns might be awful, but they wouldn’t be so impulsive as to try and physically harm her, certainly not while she lived under the Sloans’ protection. But that didn’t mean they were okay with what happened.</p><p>What about mom and dad and Quinn? She remembered what Quinn told her about Turimar, over a year ago: how he’d threatened to make the Morgendorffers pariahs in Balmora. The Grilvayns didn’t have as much power as Turimar did, but they had some. More than mom and dad did, at any rate.</p><p>Her damned stupid kiss might have ruined her family’s chances.</p><p>Tomal took her out for yet another lakeside picnic later in the morning. They stretched out in the shade of an emperor parasol mushroom and gazed across the shining waters to the verdant foothills north of Lake Amaya, where Daria had accompanied Jane on the last leg of her pilgrimage.</p><p>“What’s the matter, Daria?” Tomal asked.</p><p>Daria waited a while before answering, still looking across the lake. “I think all this fresh air and healthy living is getting to me. I might need to shut myself away in a dusty library for a few months to recover.”</p><p>“Hm, well the Ravil family’s ancestral tomb isn’t too far away. Maybe we could ask him? I’m sure the ancestral ghosts won’t mind.”</p><p>“Sharing a tomb with a bunch of undead sounds way too social for my liking.”</p><p>Tomal frowned. “Ancestral ghosts aren’t undead, Daria. I know it’s a fine distinction, but it’s an important one.”</p><p>Daria sighed. “Right, sorry,” she said, not wanting to get into an argument about the semantics of “undead”. She leaned over to rest her head on Tomal’s shoulder, an act which turned out to be less comfortable than the romantic tapestries made it look, what with his shoulder blade pressing against her cheekbone. She moved her head away.</p><p>“Seriously though, is something the matter?” Tomal asked.</p><p>This time she faced him. No guile in his face. Just sincerity and chiseled good looks.</p><p>“To tell you the truth, I’m still worried about the Grilvayns coming here,” she admitted.</p><p>He nodded. “I figured. It’s awkward. But you won’t have to talk to them.”</p><p>“Do you think we could go on another picnic when they arrive? Maybe somewhere in Akavir?”</p><p>Tomal chuckled. “Wish I could, but I’ll have to be present for them. You won’t, though. Hide away in the library and no one will be the wiser. I’ll talk Serjo Ravil into granting you access.”</p><p>“Do they know I’m here?”</p><p>“Probably. Dunmer tend to be chatty, so I’m sure the rumor circuit is already making the rounds with us.”</p><p>“Great, so they’ve probably made me out into some wicked outlander seductress bent on corrupting Hlaalu’s upstanding young men.”</p><p>“Hey, Great House Hlaalu likes its young people corrupt and close with the Empire.”</p><p>Daria looked back out at the lake. Maybe it was time.</p><p>“I never told you this Tomal, but Synda and I have a history.”</p><p>“Oh? Do tell.”</p><p>She breathed in the lakeside air, the scent a bit soiled by algae, and hoped he’d believe her.</p><p>“The first time I saw Synda was when she was trying to lure Quinn into the Council Club, a notorious Cammona Tong hideout…”</p><p> </p><p>*********</p><p> </p><p>When she finished, Daria saw a multitude of emotions warring across Tomal’s face: surprise, worry, dismay, and fear. But not disbelief.</p><p>“Why didn’t you tell me all this earlier?” Tomal asked.</p><p>“I wasn’t sure you’d believe me,” Daria admitted. “Which, in retrospect, I can now see as being kind of an insulting thing for me to think.”</p><p>“I will say this makes me much happier I’m not with Synda anymore. I had no idea she was doing this kind of thing! Though thinking back on it, there were some hints.”</p><p>“Given her feelings about outlanders, I’m surprised they were just hints,” Daria said.</p><p>Tomal exhaled, not able to meet her in the eye. “She did make some… untoward comments. That’s pretty common among my people, though.”</p><p>“Since if everyone’s doing it, it must be okay,” Daria said.</p><p>“Look, I challenged her when she said things like that.”</p><p>Had he? Daria wasn’t sure. But at the same time, it was the Empire that had forcibly annexed Morrowind to rip its ancient secrets and mineral wealth out of the volcanic rock. Who wouldn’t be resentful in that situation?</p><p>This whole damned world, she thought. No matter where she went, the corruption dug its claws into her and wouldn’t let go.</p><p>“Thanks,” Daria said, not making any real attempt to sound like she believed. “Anyway, this is why I’m worried. Synda’s hurt me in the past, and she tried to hurt my sister. She’s not very good at executing her plans, but that doesn’t mean she isn’t dangerous.”</p><p>Tomal nodded. “Realistically, there’s not much she can do. The Grilvayns will probably be more upset at Synda than at you.”</p><p>“Why?”</p><p>“Because she made a scene in public. And in the presence of, well, me.” Tomal looked a bit embarrassed.</p><p>“How is that fair?” Daria demanded. “She’s not the one who cheated on someone!”</p><p>“Who said it was fair? Synda did talk a lot about how her parents were grooming her little brother as a successor, and it didn’t sound like they cared much about her. Taking your story into account, I’d guess they found out about the whole blackmail thing and didn’t react well. Come to think of it, that might be why Synda was so keen on marrying me: she wanted to get away from her family.”</p><p>“It sounds like I inadvertently destroyed her life,” Daria said. “Good thing I’m heartless, or I might feel bad.”</p><p>And why should she feel bad? Synda was a haughty child of privilege, one who’d used it to brutalize anyone who’d crossed her. This was her just dessert: spurned by her family and publicly abandoned by her lover.</p><p>But Daria couldn’t get those damned screams out of her head. The memory of those cries intertwined with another memory: how she and Dimartani had saved Synda’s life after she’d stood up to Todis and been stabbed for her trouble. She recalled what Synda had said to her in the Hlaalu Council Manor.</p><p><em>“You think you know Morrowind. You don’t. But even if you and Sera Dimartani saved me so as to humiliate me, it matters not. I have survived and found a way to restore my reputation.”</em></p><p>She must have been referring to Tomal. Meaning Synda no longer had anyone on her side.</p><p>“Daria?”</p><p>“I’m fine,” she lied.</p><p>“Okay. We do have a bit of a problem.”</p><p>“I’d say that’s an understatement.”</p><p>“An additional problem. I have to tell my dad about the history between you and Synda. He needs to know the full scope of what Synda did if he’s going to negotiate with the Grilvayns. He won’t tell them your story, or anything. But he does have to know.”</p><p>Dammit. She closed her eyes for a moment, suddenly faint. She did not think Angyar liked her very much, and he’d like her less for hiding this information.</p><p>If he kicked her out, she’d be as alone as Synda.</p><p>“Does he <em>have</em> to know? You said your family has more power—”</p><p>The words caught in her throat. Now Daria was defending her reputation the same way Synda had: using social inequity as leverage.</p><p>“It’ll be okay,” Tomal said. “I’ll tell him you told me back in Balmora, and that I didn’t think it was worth bringing to his attention until now. That puts the blame on me, not on you.”</p><p>Like so many other things, it seemed too good to be true. “Won’t he be angry at you?”</p><p>“Oh, definitely. But it won’t be that big a problem in the long run. He’s not going to disown me over this. The Grilvayns aren’t big enough of a deal for that.”</p><p>So much for leading a principled life. But maybe she’d been kidding herself all along.</p><p>“Thanks,” she said.</p><p>Daria knew she should be thankful. But it was hard to feel gratitude through her complicity.</p><p> </p><p>*********</p><p> </p><p>Sleep eluded Daria that night. Memories of the past two years flowed together and mingled in her mind: narrow alleys and the sour smell of kwama; Jane’s sardonic laugh; Quinn babbling on as her parents pretended to listen, all gathered together in the tidy adobe kitchen; the clanks and hisses of Arkngthand; clutching Tedannupal as they flew above Balmora; sharing drinks with Jane on a cold Saturalia night; Synda’s despairing screams.</p><p>How had so much happened in such a short time?</p><p>“Did you sleep well?” Angyar asked the next morning as he poured coffee into his gleaming cup. Breakfast was late that day.</p><p>Daria glanced to Tomal, who looked as exhausted as she felt. He offered a wan smile, though a glare from his father quieted it.</p><p>He’d taken the punishment meant for her, and she had no idea what to do with that fact.</p><p>“Are the Grilvayns coming today?” she asked, still standing.</p><p>The Sloans and Ravils all stared at her. Angyar finally spoke. “Most likely today or tomorrow. You needn’t concern yourself with them. On the whole, I think they’d prefer not to see you.”</p><p>“With respect, serjo, I’d like to know a bit more about the situation with the Grilvayns. I am partially responsible for it.”</p><p>Angyar held his coffee cup up to his nose and let it linger for a bit. Dunmer always did that with their coffee.</p><p>“The Grilvayns wish to discuss matter with us Sloans," he said.</p><p>She couldn’t stand this. “Serjo Sloan, I didn’t tell Tomal about Synda’s behavior until yesterday. He didn’t hold anything back from you. He was taking the hit for me.”</p><p>Tomal jumped up from his seat. “Wait, Daria—”</p><p>She cut him off. “I’m sorry. Maybe it’s me being as attention-hungry as my sister, but I don’t like the idea of someone else taking my punishment.”</p><p>Angyar only chuckled. “Imperial though you are, it’s time you realize that you are in Morrowind, not Cyrodiil. We tend to our own affairs and the opinions of outlanders matter little. The situation with the Grilvayns is a minor one, and you frankly don’t have any say in it. I have tolerated your presence out of deference to my son, but do not forget your place.”</p><p>“Serjo Sloan speaks truly,” Serjo Ravil confided, his lips turning up in a slow and luxurious smile as if thrilled to see someone dress her down.</p><p>Tomal stared down at the table, his jaw set.</p><p>One of the servants stepped into the dining hall. “Serjos Sloan and Ravil,” he said. “It is my honor to announce the arrival of Muthsera Grilvayn, and his wife, of Balmora.”</p><p>“Ah,” Serjo Sloan said. “They must have left Pelagiad early to arrive here so soon. Serjo Ravil, may I use your sitting room for this?”</p><p>“Such would be my honor, Serjo Sloan.”</p><p>“Very well. Galas, Tomal? Let us adjourn and greet our guests. Daria, I suggest you return to the guesthouse.”</p><p>Tomal gave her a plaintive look. Not seeing any other option, she took the backdoor out of the manor, carrying a plate of scrib pie with her.</p><p>A Dunmer couple stood in the courtyard, both dressed in dark finery with jagged patterns embroidered onto the silken fabric. The woman looked almost exactly like Synda. Though shorter than her husband, she seemed to overshadow him, her imperious stance demanding attention and deference.</p><p>Their eyes met for a moment. Daria saw no fury in the woman’s face, no desire to avenge a humiliated daughter. Only the passing disgust usually reserved for inedible invertebrates.</p><p>Daria apparently wasn’t worth hating.</p><p><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zJXQSBWO5Qc" target="_blank">Musical Closer – O Valencia!, by The Decemberists</a></p><p><strong>Chapter 5</strong></p><p>One of the things Tomal had always liked about Imperials was how little time they wasted. Sure, the Nibenese Imperials loved their celebrations and rituals, and certainly had plenty of them. But in the end, time was money, and they loved money a bit more. Once business was on the table, they got down to it pretty quickly. Colovian Imperials, like Daria, took this tendency even further.</p><p>Not the Dunmer, however.</p><p>He’d spent the entire day with his parents and the Grilvayns as they probed for information through a veil of pleasantries. Inquiries about the weather gave some idea as to the quality of the other person’s agricultural product that year (or in this case, the number of eggs produced in the mines that the Grilvayns invested in, because kwama queens laid more eggs during wet years). Talk about neighbors and family gave hints as to who was in and who was out, which could change greatly in a few weeks. All useful, but none of it relevant to what Tomal wanted to talk about.</p><p>Dad did this for hours on end, with mom and Tomal chiming in as needed with praise or witticism. They followed a script both improvised and stifling, the stock phrases inscribed onto their minds and souls generations ago.</p><p>On and on it went. During breakfast, lunch, and dinner, throughout a long midday excursion, and now this interminable sitting (and drinking, ALMSIVI be praised) session in the parlor. Each meal and amenity offered to the Grilvayns served as a symbol of Sloan wealth. Sure, it all belonged to the Ravils, but the fact that the Sloans could get the Ravils to serve the Grilvayns only further reinforced one simple fact: Angyar Sloan was a man of many resources.</p><p>The one thing they refused to discuss was Synda.</p><p>It was late in the evening, and Tomal now hated the sight of Tamric and Lynda. He hated the way they reminded him of how he’d bungled the whole thing. Granted, if Synda had been half as bad as Daria had said, he was best off far away from her.</p><p>This would be his life as an adult. Falsities and fakeries layered on top of each other in a big stack of deception reaching up to the heavens.</p><p>That was what he’d liked about Synda. She’d at least had the guts to be offended by his jokes about Morrowind and the Tribunal, his noble status be damned. And being blunt was Daria’s nature.</p><p>“Reputation is a curious beast,” Angyar said, refilling his small silver vessel with another finger’s worth of Cyrodiilic brandy.</p><p>“One that is best tamed and kept in a very strong cage,” Lynda said. Everyone faked polite laughter, Tomal included.</p><p>But bringing up reputation probably meant they were ready to talk about Synda.</p><p> </p><p>*********</p><p> </p><p>Isolation compounded doubt. Confined to her room, Daria was starting to doubt everything around her.</p><p>She wanted to believe Tomal was a good guy. Perhaps he’d proven it by taking her punishment for her. But that underlined the bigger problem: that no matter what Tomal said or did, his dad called the shots.</p><p>With that in mind, she badly wanted to know what the Sloans and Grilvayns talked about that night. What if it proved easier to expel a troublesome outlander like her? Ravil’s constant slights, the way the serving staff talked about her behind closed doors, it all added up.</p><p>She didn’t have her family to fall back on any longer.</p><p>Daria opened the shutters and looked out onto the torchlit enclosure. An armored guard ambled through the grounds, his lantern bobbing through the darkness like some bloated firefly. He walked toward the gate, moving with the easy step of a man who’d patrolled the route a thousand times and expected only the usual.</p><p>Pushing away from the windowsill, she hurried through the guesthouse’s darkened rooms. She needed to get close enough to hear what the Sloans and Grilvayns said, to find out if she still had a place here or not. Sitting around and waiting solved nothing. She’d rather be Daria Morgendorffer than another Sloan asset, even if that came with a reduction in value.</p><p>She opened the door as quietly as she could and peered outside. The guard stood at the gate, his eyes pointed at the shadowed meadows beyond. Masser and Secunda shone in the night sky, their muted colors complementing the twinkling stars. Figuring it was as safe as she’d get, Daria stepped out and shut the door behind her before walking across the cool grass, her footsteps quieter on the vegetation than they would have been on the paths.</p><p>Lights gleamed from the manor house's narrow windows. At first, she heard nothing. Had they gone somewhere else? Then she caught a voice coming from the front room, muffled by the closed windowpanes.</p><p>She crouched low as she drew nearer. Her dress—or rather, Ravil’s daughter’s old dress—pinched her waist as she did, and she hoped the fabric wouldn’t tear. Once at the front, she went along to the right side, where she knew another window offered a glimpse into the manor’s dark and overstuffed parlor.</p><p>Taking low, quiet breaths, she pressed against the adobe wall and raised her head to the edge of the window, making sure nothing gave her away. Now able to hear their words, she listened.</p><p> </p><p>*********</p><p> </p><p>Tomal slugged back some brandy, already knowing he was going to hate the next few minutes of his life.</p><p>“The reputation of our daughter, Synda, is a source of some concern for us,” Lynda said. She sounded exactly like her daughter, her enunciation slow and precise as if she relished her tone of contempt.</p><p>“As mothers, our children’s reputation is our burden to shoulder,” Galas said.</p><p>“And you have done so well with your own, serjo,” Lynda said, her features nearly lost in shadow.</p><p>Tomal could easily imagine Synda sitting on the upholstered mahogany chair occupied by her mother. Maybe it should have been. This affected her more than it did her mother, after all.</p><p>“We are honored to palaver with you, Sera Grilvayn,” dad said. “Why is your daughter of concern?”</p><p>Tomal gripped the armrest of his chair. Get to the damn point, he thought. Sweat soaked his shirt, and he resisted the urge to pull at his collar. All the air in the room felt like it had been rebreathed a hundred times over.</p><p>“Synda is a simple girl, one given to flights of fancy,” Lynda replied. “We fear that one such flight may have led her to make a scene at a recent event. Perhaps you know of which I speak?”</p><p>Dad nodded. “I believe I have been informed, yes,” he said, glancing over at Tomal.</p><p>Tomal drained his cup, his head already spinning from an earlier drink. Dad passed him the bottle, and he refilled it. He’d probably had too much. Vomiting on Lynda was one way to end the night, he supposed.</p><p>“Truly a regrettable moment,” Tamric said. Synda’s father had been mostly silent that evening.</p><p>Lynda bowed her head. “Synda’s outburst has sullied our name, so we must make the effort to restore our reputation. We know that your son, who is truly a sterling example of young Dunmer manhood, had been kind enough to offer her his time. Somehow, she chose to interpret this as a romantic gesture.”</p><p>Did Lynda truly believe Synda had imagined it? He tried to bring his thoughts together, figure out what to say.</p><p>“Ah, well, the passion of youth,” dad said, using the easy but authoritative tone he always used when preparing to settle matters.</p><p>“I can forgive my daughter a certain degree of impetuousness, but not at the risk of tarnishing your family's name," Lynda said, affecting a tone of regret. "We have clearly been far too lenient. Thus, we will be sending her to the care of the Tribunal Temple in Necrom. There, she will learn the humility expected of the Dunmer and spend her life in blessed ritual and contemplation.”</p><p>Tomal looked to his father, trying to find any sign of what the old man intended.</p><p>“I am sure our brothers and sisters in the service of ALMSIVI will impart their wisdom unto her,” dad said.</p><p>“May ALMSIVI be praised,” Tamric uttered.</p><p>“Wait,” Tomal held out his free hand. The inside of his head twisted like a maelstrom, but he focused his thoughts. “I need to make a correction here.”</p><p>“Tomal!” dad warned.</p><p>“I did…” he trailed off. What the hell could he safely admit? He had to phrase this the right way. “Your daughter deserves credit for her discretion. She and I did have a romance. A chaste one.”</p><p> Silence for a moment. Thick and suffocating.</p><p>“Tomal, you are speaking out of turn. Our guests know their own daughter,” dad said.</p><p>“Certainly, Tomal is an honorable young man to claim responsibility,” Lynda replied, speaking so sweetly that he almost believed her. “Yet we fear that our daughter’s foolishness has made her a liability. Certainly, none would believe Synda had won the love of a Sloan. It can only be seen as boastfulness most inappropriate for a girl of her station.”</p><p>She didn’t care at all. Synda was to be cast aside, her life—not just her life, her reality—ripped away from her. All because that made it easier for her parents. </p><p>Maybe if he took a more conciliatory tone...</p><p>“Synda and I were in a relationship. This does not reflect poorly on your family, Sera Grilvayn. It was natural—”</p><p>Dad learned over, candlelight revealing the deepening lines of his jowls.</p><p>“Tomal, though you are my son, you must still be respectful of your guests. Do not contradict Sera Grilvayn again.”</p><p>“Truly, I am touched,” Lynda said. “Serjo’s kindness is a testament to the generosity of the Sloans. Yet it is not necessary. The damage done by my daughter can be repaired. I simply hope that our efforts at discretion are seen as sufficient.”</p><p>“More than sufficient,” dad said, his voice rumbling with approval. “And certainly deserving of reward. Much of the work within Great House Hlaalu consists of knowing what to say, when to say it, and to whom. A hired accountant can always handle the numbers, after all.”</p><p>“But what about Synda? Father—” </p><p>Dad growled. “Tomal, the matter has been decided! You are not revealing some truth to us. We know the truth. Perhaps Synda will accept it one day.”</p><p>“I am sure the young serjo is simply weary at the late hour,” Lynda said.</p><p>Tomal slumped in his chair. They didn’t care. He spoke into the void. He imagined his father’s wealth, the vast teeming lands, the hundreds of workers, the carts and boats that shipped his goods from one end of Tamriel to another, the houses and gold and silks and furniture, all coming down on him at once, crushing him beneath an immense and gilded tomb.</p><p>This was his life. Yet he had no cause to complain. Not after he’d ruined Synda’s life by telling her he loved her.</p><p> </p><p>*********</p><p> </p><p>Her legs burning from crouching for so long, Daria stepped away from the window, not wanting to believe what she’d heard.</p><p>She still couldn’t pity Synda, not exactly. For all Synda's misery, she’d still been somebody who’d loved cruelty and had inflicted it on Daria. On Quinn, as well. But Synda was a small person in a very big world, and as much at the mercy of larger forces as Daria was.</p><p>Exhausted and wanting to sleep, Daria made her clandestine journey back to the gatehouse. One thing was certain: she had to leave before she became the next Synda.</p><p><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=daR1a1jPfK8" target="_blank">Musical Closer – You Oughta Know, by Alanis Morissette (NSFW lyrics)</a></p><p><strong>Chapter 6</strong></p><p>Daria awoke early, wanting to take a bath but not willing to waste any time. She took out the clothes she’d worn on the journey to Ravil Manor, earlier washed by the servants at her request. Putting them on, the green wool of her coat faded from use (Quinn had told her to get it re-dyed more than once), felt like returning home. Everything fit perfectly and she breathed easy for the first time since arriving at the place.</p><p>Part of her wanted to write a note for Tomal and leave, but she wasn’t sure that’d be safe. Humiliating the Sloans might bring more trouble on her head, so she’d best talk to Tomal and at least see if she could get him to understand.</p><p>Going here had been a terrible idea, she realized.</p><p>“Even worse than going to Sadrith Mora,” she imagined Jane saying.</p><p>The Ravil Manor slowly woke up around her. A servant brought her breakfast in her room while the Sloans, Ravils, and Grilvayns ate in the main house. The Grilvayns had spent the night in a spacious pavilion set up for them at the back of the manor.</p><p>As Dunmer tended to do, the Grilvayns lingered through the morning. Daria spotted Tomal, squinting at the morning sunlight and walking with exaggerated slowness as if every motion caused him physical pain, a sickly smile plastered on his face. He must have hit the bottle pretty hard the other night. Not that she blamed him.</p><p>It was not until after lunch that the Grilvayns departed. Daria watched them leave the manor, wanting to give them time so she didn’t risk running into them on the road. All the while, her mind spun new scenarios of what might happen.</p><p>What if Tomal didn’t take her departure gracefully? What if he did, but his dad viewed it as an insult?</p><p>Or maybe they wouldn’t care.</p><p>It was a little while later that a knock came on her door.</p><p>“Who is it?” she asked.</p><p>“Me,” Tomal said, his voice hoarse. “The Grilvayns are gone. Can I come in?”</p><p>Daria gulped and took a deep breath. “Sure.”</p><p>The door opened. The poor guy looked like he wanted more than anything else to collapse and curl up in a ball. He’d been entertaining the Grilvayns all morning in that state.</p><p>His bleary eyes studied her, slowly widening as he took in the hints: the old green coat and long black skirt, the rough boots, her few belongings packed up.</p><p>“You’re leaving?”</p><p>“Uh, yeah.” She forced himself to look him in the eyes. “Tomal, you gave me a chance at the dream that many young Tamrielic women spend their days hoping for. But my preference for grubby realism means I’m not suited for a fantasy life.”</p><p>He leaned against the doorway, and that action alone seemed to take more out of him. “But why? I gave you—”</p><p>“Are you going to hurt me for this?” she asked.</p><p>He blinked and shook his head, then grimaced.</p><p>“Maybe you should drink some water,” she said.</p><p>“Any more water and I’ll pop. Daria, I meant what I said: you can go whenever you want. I’ll never hurt you.”</p><p>“Okay.” She mulled her next move for a moment, fearing she was about to make a mistake. “I overheard part of your conversation last night. Where Synda’s mom decided to pass the whole thing off as a delusion on her daughter's part, and your dad went along with it.”</p><p>“Are you mad I tried to protect her?”</p><p>“No. You did the right thing, albeit rather halfheartedly. It was probably the most you could have done. But you can see why I need to leave. I can’t spend my life being at the mercy of something like that.”</p><p>“I can see that,” he uttered, sounding defeated. "I destroyed Synda’s life, Daria. All because I thought she’d be fun to have as a girlfriend.”</p><p>Daria sighed. “You did so inadvertently. The real blame lies with those who did it deliberately. Namely, her parents and yours.”</p><p>“Not sure that makes me feel better,” he said.</p><p>“It wasn’t supposed to. But you bear far less blame than them. Given that I have much less power than Synda, you can understand why I want to leave.”</p><p>“Where will you go?”</p><p>She decided it was safe to tell him. “Vivec. If I’m lucky, Jane won’t shut the door in my face when I find her home. If I’m not? I guess I’ll have to play it by ear.”</p><p>“Vivec can be a tough city to get around. Do you have any money?”</p><p>“Just a handful of coins I brought with me from Balmora,” Daria admitted, and feeling a bit foolish for carrying so little.</p><p>“Let me give you some more,” he said.</p><p>“No—”</p><p>“Please! You won’t owe me anything, Daria. Let me do something good.”</p><p>He lurched away into his bedroom and came back a bit later with a bulging coin purse. “Here. The coins inside should add up to around a thousand.”</p><p>Daria looked at it doubtfully. “The jingling of that purse will call every bandit on the road.”</p><p>Tomal cursed. He opened it up and picked out some coins, stuffing them into his pockets. “A few hundred are left. Come on, you’ll need money for food and shelter.”</p><p>She thought about it for a bit and nodded, taking the hollowed-out purse. “Uh, thanks. What are you going to tell your parents?”</p><p>“I’ll lie. Tell them I got tired of you. That’s something they’ll accept,” he said.</p><p>“Probably an accurate assessment.” She put the purse in her bag and then picked it up from her bed. “I guess I’m on my way then.”</p><p>“Wait. Daria, was I a good boyfriend?”</p><p>She stepped up to him until they were only inches apart and looked him in the eyes. For a moment, just a moment, she thought it might be best to stay. That maybe he could protect her, that together they’d push back against the corruption.</p><p>But that was only a dream.</p><p>“Tomal, let me put it this way: for most of my life, I didn’t think I’d like anyone enough to let them kiss me. Yet somehow, I let you do that. More than once, even. What’s more, I enjoyed it. You’re not a bad guy, Tomal. I’m sure, some day, you’ll find a noblewoman who also sees through the nonsense of this world.”</p><p>He smiled. “That’s pretty high praise from you.”</p><p>“Don’t get used to it.”</p><p>“I won’t.”</p><p>“And remember how powerful you are.”</p><p>“It’s not something I’ll ever forget,” he said, “not after last night.”</p><p>“Okay then.”</p><p>Tomal stood aside to give her space. She thought about hugging him, but that struck her as unnatural, and potentially giving the wrong idea. Instead, she simply walked through the main room and toward the door.</p><p>“Oh, Daria?”</p><p>“Yes?” she replied, not turning around.</p><p>“Don’t go to Pelagiad. That’s where the Grilvayns will be.”</p><p>“Thank you. They’re the last people I want to meet right now.”</p><p>“I figured. Good luck with Jane.”</p><p>“Thanks. I’ll need it.”</p><p>With that, Daria opened the door and stepped out.</p><p><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IZhy0BbmG7U" target="_blank">Musical Closer – Scandal, Controversy, and Romance, by The Prissteens</a></p><p><strong>The End</strong></p><p><a href="https://theskyforge.ning.com/groups/the-story-corner/general-forum/a-kiss-to-build-a-scream-on-daria-in-morrowind-episode-27" target="_blank">Episode 27: A Kiss to Build a Scream On</a> | <a href="https://theskyforge.ning.com/groups/the-story-corner/general-forum/daria-in-morrowind-table-of-contents" target="_blank">Table of Contents</a> | <a href="https://theskyforge.ning.com/groups/the-story-corner/general-forum/gone-sister-gone-daria-in-morrowind-episode-29" target="_blank">Episode 29: Gone Sister Gone</a></p></div>Daria in Morrowind - Table of Contentshttps://TheSkyForge.ning.com/groups/the-story-corner/general-forum/daria-in-morrowind-table-of-contents2021-01-26T00:09:02.000Z2021-01-26T00:09:02.000ZWellTemperedClavierhttps://TheSkyForge.ning.com/members/WellTemperedClavier<div><p><a href="{{#staticFileLink}}8477481295,RESIZE_1200x{{/staticFileLink}}"><img class="align-full" src="{{#staticFileLink}}8477481295,RESIZE_710x{{/staticFileLink}}" alt="8477481295?profile=RESIZE_710x" width="710" /></a></p><p>The dusty frontier city of Balmora, in faraway Morrowind, is just about the last place that a bookish and flinty introvert like Daria Morgendorffer would ever want to visit. But her parents see opportunity in its narrow streets and adobe offices, so that's where Daria (and her superficial younger sister Quinn) must go.</p><p>Once in Balmora, Daria discovers it to be a viper's nest of crass superficiality, governmental corruption, and ruthless social networking. Kind of like home, really. And the place does have its plus sides, like a disaffected Dunmer artist named Jane who befriends Daria soon after her arrival.</p><p>But it does have downsides. While Daria's social position in her old home freed her up to snark at the stupidity around her, she has to tread much more carefully in Morrowind. Because here, the locals might not take kindly to Daria's trenchant observations, and violence is always an option...</p><p>***</p><p>Daria in Morrowind is exactly what it sounds like. The stories try to re-imagine the classic animated sitcom's characters as natives of Tamriel (though not necessarily natives of Morrowind). The episodes take place from 3E 424-426, in the Third Empire's waning days. The focus here is on the daily lives of the characters. Daria's not secretly the Nerevarine, she's just herself: an intelligent and sarcastic young woman trying to make her way in a society that doesn't necessarily reward those traits. The emphasis is on comedy and drama, but this is Morrowind so there's some adventure, too. I try to stick as closely to the lore of the setting as possible (and I use a somewhat older version of the lore--for example, central Cyrodiil is still described as a jungle). </p><p>Most episodes are 19-23 pages in length. Some are shorter and are under ten pages. Shorter episodes are marked with an asterisk.</p><p><a href="https://theskyforge.ning.com/groups/the-story-corner/general-forum/map-of-balmora-for-daria-in-morrowind" target="_blank">Map of Balmora</a></p><p><a href="https://theskyforge.ning.com/groups/the-story-corner/general-forum/outlanders-daria-in-morrowind-episode-1-chapter-1" target="_blank">Episode 1: Outlanders</a></p><p><a href="https://theskyforge.ning.com/groups/the-story-corner/general-forum/on-the-origins-of-the-fashion-guild-daria-in-morrowind-episode-2" target="_blank">Episode 2: On the Origins of the Fashion Guild *</a></p><p><a href="https://theskyforge.ning.com/groups/the-story-corner/general-forum/an-invitation-daria-in-morrowind-episode-3" target="_blank">Episode 3: An Invitation</a></p><p><a href="https://theskyforge.ning.com/groups/the-story-corner/general-forum/the-south-wall-cornerclub-daria-in-morrowind-episode-4" target="_blank">Episode 4: The South Wall Cornerclub *</a></p><p><a href="https://theskyforge.ning.com/groups/the-story-corner/general-forum/the-guilded-age-daria-in-morrowind-episode-5" target="_blank">Episode 5: The Guilded Age</a></p><p><a href="https://theskyforge.ning.com/groups/the-story-corner/general-forum/the-artist-s-i-daria-in-morrowind-episode-6" target="_blank">Episode 6: The Artist's I *</a></p><p><a href="https://theskyforge.ning.com/groups/the-story-corner/general-forum/the-pilgrim-s-inertia-daria-in-morrowind-episode-7" target="_blank">Episode 7: The Pilgrim's Inertia</a></p><p><a href="https://theskyforge.ning.com/groups/the-story-corner/general-forum/hate-actually-daria-in-morrowind-episode-8" target="_blank">Episode 8: Hate Actually</a></p><p><a href="https://theskyforge.ning.com/groups/the-story-corner/general-forum/the-history-girls-daria-in-morrowind-episode-9" target="_blank">Episode 9: The History Girls</a></p><p><a href="https://theskyforge.ning.com/groups/the-story-corner/general-forum/the-worst-years-of-our-lives-daria-in-morrowind-episode-10" target="_blank">Episode 10: The Worst Years of Our Lives</a></p><p><a href="https://theskyforge.ning.com/groups/the-story-corner/general-forum/heathers-daria-in-morrowind-episode-11" target="_blank">Episode 11: Heathers *</a></p><p><a href="https://theskyforge.ning.com/groups/the-story-corner/general-forum/the-balmora-beat-daria-in-morrowind-episode-12" target="_blank">Episode 12: The Balmora Beat *</a></p><p><a href="https://theskyforge.ning.com/groups/the-story-corner/general-forum/all-the-news-that-s-fit-to-primp-daria-in-morrowind-episode-13" target="_blank">Episode 13: All the News That's Fit to Primp</a></p><p><a href="https://theskyforge.ning.com/groups/the-story-corner/general-forum/raiders-of-the-lost-arkngthand-daria-in-morrowind-episode-14" target="_blank">Episode 14: Raiders of the Lost Arkngthand</a></p><p><a href="https://theskyforge.ning.com/groups/the-story-corner/general-forum/the-tell-tale-art-daria-in-morrowind-episode-15" target="_blank">Episode 15: The Tell-Tale Art</a></p><p><a href="https://theskyforge.ning.com/groups/the-story-corner/general-forum/arena-daria-in-morrowind-episode-16" target="_blank">Episode 16: Arena</a></p><p><a href="https://theskyforge.ning.com/groups/the-story-corner/general-forum/the-horn-identity-daria-in-morrowind-episode-17" target="_blank">Episode 17: The Horn Identity *</a></p><p><a href="https://theskyforge.ning.com/groups/the-story-corner/general-forum/balmora-confidential-daria-in-morrowind-episode-18" target="_blank">Episode 18: Balmora Confidential</a></p><p><a href="https://theskyforge.ning.com/groups/the-story-corner/general-forum/school-of-mock-daria-in-morrowind-episode-19" target="_blank">Episode 19: School of Mock</a></p><p><a href="https://theskyforge.ning.com/groups/the-story-corner/general-forum/the-salt-in-our-stars-daria-in-morrowind-episode-20" target="_blank">Episode 20: The Salt in Our Stars *</a></p><p><a href="https://theskyforge.ning.com/groups/the-story-corner/general-forum/the-summer-of-my-ashlander-nomad-daria-in-morrowind-episode-21" target="_blank">Episode 21: The Summer of My Ashlander Nomad</a></p><p><a href="https://theskyforge.ning.com/groups/the-story-corner/general-forum/wizards-off-the-coast-daria-in-morrowind-episode-22" target="_blank">Episode 22: Wizards Off the Coast</a></p><p><a href="https://theskyforge.ning.com/groups/the-story-corner/general-forum/big-mer-on-campus-daria-in-morrowind-episode-23" target="_blank">Episode 23: Big Mer on Campus</a></p><p><a href="https://theskyforge.ning.com/groups/the-story-corner/general-forum/the-wedding-wringer-daria-in-morrowind-episode-24" target="_blank">Episode 24: The Wedding Wringer *</a></p><p><a href="https://theskyforge.ning.com/groups/the-story-corner/general-forum/the-dark-arts-daria-in-morrowind-episode-25" target="_blank">Episode 25: The Dark Arts</a></p><p><a href="https://theskyforge.ning.com/groups/the-story-corner/general-forum/ashtrapped-daria-in-morrowind-episode-26" target="_blank">Episode 26: Ashtrapped</a></p><p><a href="https://theskyforge.ning.com/groups/the-story-corner/general-forum/a-kiss-to-build-a-scream-on-daria-in-morrowind-episode-27" target="_blank">Episode 27: A Kiss to Build a Scream On</a></p><p><a href="https://theskyforge.ning.com/groups/the-story-corner/general-forum/a-comedy-of-manors-daria-in-morrowind-episode-28" target="_blank">Episode 28: A Comedy of Manors</a></p><p><a href="https://theskyforge.ning.com/groups/the-story-corner/general-forum/gone-sister-gone-daria-in-morrowind-episode-29" target="_blank">Episode 29: Gone Sister Gone*</a></p><p><a href="https://theskyforge.ning.com/groups/the-story-corner/general-forum/the-cantons-of-vivec-daria-in-morrowind-episode-30" target="_blank">Episode 30: The Cantons of Vivec</a></p><p><a href="https://theskyforge.ning.com/groups/the-story-corner/general-forum/bad-day-in-balmora-part-1-daria-in-morrowind-episode-31" target="_blank">Episode 31: Bad Day in Balmora, Part 1</a></p><p><a href="https://theskyforge.ning.com/groups/the-story-corner/general-forum/bad-day-in-balmora-part-2-daria-in-morrowind-episode-31-5?edited=1" target="_blank">Episode 31.5: Bad Day in Balmora, Part 2</a></p><p><a href="https://theskyforge.ning.com/groups/the-story-corner/general-forum/a-c0da-to-live-by-part-1-daria-in-morrowind-episode-32?edited=1" target="_blank">Episode 32: A c0da to Live By, Part 1</a></p><p><a href="https://theskyforge.ning.com/groups/the-story-corner/general-forum/a-c0da-to-live-by-part-2-daria-in-morrowind-episode-32-5-finale" target="_blank">Episode 32.5: A c0da to Live By, Part 2 (Finale)</a></p></div>