The Unbearable Unfairness of Being
Ariadne did her damnedest to let her disposition express the displeasure she felt over the latest turn of affairs, without actually suffering the indignity of speaking her mind.
So far, she judged, it wasn't going so well.
The bony slip of a scholar, Ariela, marched down the stairs ahead of the unfairly tormented younger woman, quite oblivious to the sulky, stiff-backed manner in which the latter conveyed her affronted self after her, arms tucked tight on top of her breasts, her mouth a tight line.
No, none of her subtly orchestrated demonstrations seemed to be getting through. Which, of course, only made her more cross.
And to think that just a little while ago she had for a second thought she was finally getting rid of her thankless assignment!
She sighed loudly as they came downstairs. Adventure! I'll show you adventure! She was well aware that she could be rather difficult if she so wanted. And this might have just been one of those situations where that particular propensity of hers would come in handy.
"Oh, oh!" Ariela exclaimed suddenly, spinning around, and thus intercepting the moderately brilliant snarky comment which Ariadne had prepared. "Did you remember the—"
Look at you, all bright eyed and bushy tailed! And for what, for getting a chance to haul all those useless books around in your beat up old knapsack of yours? I swear, there's something about your tiny little face that just makes me wanna slap it sometimes. Dammit, what was I just gonna say? I know it was something good! Clever too, needless to add.
The scholar frowned, having finished whatever it was that she just said. "Well?"
Ariadne matched the scowl with one of her own. "Did I? Yes, of course I remembered," she hissed. "Contrary to what you obviously seem to believe, I wasn't born yesterd—"
But the scholar had stopped listening. Instead she faced the hallway again, crooning, "Oh good, good!"
Ariadne could have just growled. This would not do! She would not be treated like this: brushed aside and ignored. No one—no one—treated her that way!
And she was just about to say as much when she was once again interrupted. This time it was another voice, one behind her. A male voice.
A soft, assuring yet assertive male voice with an alluring, mischievous edge to it.
"Ah, well but if it isn't my favorite young sorceress! Was kinda hoping to run into you."
She felt her face at once freezing over and burning hotly. Her mouth suddenly felt dry and her knees not quite as steadfast as just seconds before.
Shit!
Ariadne tried to appear as casual as she could, turning to find Calisto Larouche, the star student of the College, standing behind her. As usual, immediately upon seeing him she felt her confidence shatter to pieces. There was simply something about the young and tall Breton that she found turning her nerves to jelly. The man's curly chestnut hair framed his perfectly proportioned, strong-jawed features out of which stared the darkest pair of eyes she'd ever seen, twinkling with self-possessed confidence matched perfectly by the way he held his dexterous form.
Calisto did not seem to pay any attention to the scholar, only focusing on Ariadne. He spread out his arms, his white-toothed smile enough to thaw all the ice in Winterhold. "And just as lovely as I remembered!"
For the life of her, she couldn't think of a single appropriate thing to say. Some very inappropriate for certain! But nothing which would have served her here.
Oh boy, I don't know what special sort of magic you wield, but I can tell you that your eyes alone ignite a firestorm inside of my breeche—
Yeah, that sort of inappropriate.
"Oh, uh. Hi, Calisto!" she stammered. "I didn't see you there."
Immediately after those words, Ariadne felt like melting and disappearing into one of the cracks between the floor tiles. Dunce!
But Calisto just reached into his seemingly endless storage to offer up another one of his charming smiles—only making matters worse! "Well, what's important is that I saw you. And man am I glad for that!"
Someone cleared their throat behind his back.
Oh yes, of course the handsome man was not alone. Behind him, shadowed by his presence, waited three other people. A female Dunmer and a male Imperial whose names she did not care to know. Fellow students. And then there was Sissel, a senior mage. She was a hard-faced Nord who for some reason or another always seemed to wear a frown whenever she saw Ariadne and Calisto speak. This time was no exception. On the face of it, she seemed a bit disgruntled over being ignored. But that wasn't the whole story. In fact, Ariadne was fairly sure that the woman was simply jealous, and had in fact suspected it all along.
At first, though, she had thought that it was over Calisto, which would have made perfect sense as far as she was concerned. But then, after finding out certain things about the woman, she had concluded that it was actually more likely her that she was jealous over. And if she'd sort of skirted around the dour woman before that, then afterwards she'd been avoiding her even more assiduously.
But what really mattered here now was what Calisto had just said.
He was glad to see her?
"You, uh, are?"
"Absolutely! See, I heard that you were going out on an errand of some sort. And seeing that we also happen to be about to take on a special mission, this is as happy a chance as I could have hoped for."
How would you have heard that in this time? And more importantly: you actually care? "We? Er, I mean, what sort of mission?"
"Oh, nothing much," he said. "Just some—"
Sissel stepped up to interrupt him. "Necromancers, Ariadne. We've been tracking a gang of 'em for a while now, and we believe that the time has come for us to make a move. They're holed up in Whiterun."
Ariadne's widened eyes searched for Calisto's, who assumed an expression as though the whole affair really wasn't the big deal it was made it out to be. "It's true." He dismissively waved one elegant, delicate but strong, hand. He had the long fingers of a lute player.
He could use them to play my lute anytime!
She did her best to focus. "Oh. Really? I mean, that sounds dangerous!"
To be honest, a genuine sentiment stirred inside of her on account of the news. That was, besides the obvious one that the physical proximity of this demigod of a man always gave her. Half of what she felt now was worry, as what Sissel had described really did sound dangerous. The prospect of Calisto getting hurt was not one she welcomed. But the other half was envy. For one, Sissel would be able to be close to him instead of her; and secondly, why should they get all the action while Ariadne was stuck following the little Cyrodiilian bore around? It just wasn't fair!
Calisto's grin was almost pitying. "Dangerous? Well of course. That is, dangerous for them! We're about to teach them a severe lesson about the dangers of treating with the dark arts!"
Sissel was rolling her eyes, about to say something, when Ariela joined the conversation.
"What manner of necromancers are we talking about here? I mean, how organized are they?"
Ariadne thought that it was a really strange thing to ask.
Calisto shot the small woman a haughty look, the smile lingering on his lips quirking into a far less convivial direction. "Sorry, but this is confidential College business. You'd better stick to what you know best, little sister. People tend to get hurt when they don't."
Ariela's mouth snapped open. Then she frowned. Stunned by the blunt response, yet clearly trying to come up with some kind of an answer.
Ariadne also had to admit to being a bit thrown off by the man's sudden change of tone, no matter that she felt secret pleasure over the scholar's reaction. But then she knew Calisto well enough to not be truly surprised. She wasn't so blind as to take him for any kind of saint; and, truth be told, his brashness was a considerable facet of his overall attraction. He well knew what he was worth and made no attempt to conceal it. Such was the common trait, Ariadne supposed, of anyone wanting to get ahead in the world.
"So everyone's all set, then? Splendid!"
All heads then turned in the direction of the imposing female voice. Faralda, the Arch-Mage, walked in from outside, bringing with her a gust of chill air which perfectly heralded the Altmer's austere deportment.
Calisto, as if to put the ice-thawing power of his radiant smile to the test, greeted the taciturn woman like an old friend. "All I can speak for is myself," he said. "And as you well know, I am always ready!" All that was missing from that, Ariadne thought, was an evocative wink.
Well, she for one would have been sold. But then she wasn't exactly impartial.
Unsurprisingly, nothing about Faralda betrayed her being in any way affected by the roguish young man's charms. "No doubt," she said. "And yet I am compelled to remind you that this is no game. Those people are very—"
"Dangerous. Yeah, got that. And yet . . ." He spread out his long arms theatrically, "They're about to learn about something even more dangerous."
Sissel rolled her eyes.
Even Ariadne had to admit that the man's bravado was going a bit too far. But then she would have never in a million years questioned his capabilities. Cocky, even slightly obnoxious though he might have been, he was also very, very convincing. Not to mention imposing.
There was that feeling again . . .
"Excuse me, Arch-Mage," Ariela then chimed in, helping Ariadne to snap out of it. "But am I to assume you're only sending four mages against a band of necromancers? And three of them mere students!"
"There she goes again!" Calisto snarled. His face suddenly darkening, he took a sudden step towards the scholar, poking a finger in her direction. "Didn't I warn you about getting into—"
Faralda stepped between them, a warding hand up for Calisto. "Please," she told him—it was not a plea.
The mood in the hallway suddenly grew tense.
As the comely mage relented, throwing his hands up with a roll of his eyes, Faralda gave the comically unsettled-looking scholar something approximating a friendly smile. "I understand your concern, Ariela. But this mission is meant to be stealthy in nature—not the kick-in-doors kind." She threw a significant glance Calisto's way. "And therefore the fewer people we have on it the better. Furthermore, I can assure you that the "mere students" that I'm sending are of the highest quality, and thus not all that different from more experienced mages. This will be an excellent way to prepare for their careers, as those will likely not be spent far out of harm's way. And Sissel, of course, is a more than capable supervisor for this mission. In short, they all have my most complete trust. Besides." She reached out to place a hand on Calisto's shoulder. The camaraderie of the gesture came with a suggestion of quasi-motherly authority. "Calisto here is the most capable student that this institution has seen in a good while—he could probably well take on this mission alone if needed."
Ariadne could not help feel a little bit slighted. Capable students—well what about her then! Did the Arch-Mage truly think that her abilities only made her good enough to be a damned servant! She was definitely one of the most able—if indeed not the most able—Destruction mage around! And while she was well aware that she wasn't the humblest person in the room either, she also was certain that this one thing about her was absolutely true. So what about me?
Calisto's grin was wrought with self-gratification as he was nodding at Faralda's words.
"It's true," Sissel told the scholar equably. "There's no need to worry, we know what we are doing."
The woman gave Ariadne an odd glance, a sort of scan from head to toe. She found herself tugging her robe tighter.
The scholar nodded, a chary eye on Calisto.
"And how about you?" Faralda asked her. "I trust you shall not be away for long?"
Ariela shook her head. "Shouldn't, no. Our trek is fairly straightforward. First to Hjaalmarch, a quick visit to Whiterun, and then back. Chances are we'll be back by nightfall but by tomorrow at latest."
Why Hjaalmarch of all places, Ariadne wondered. On the other hand, a visit to Whiterun might be kind of nice. She could see spring, no matter how briefly! It had always been her very favorite season.
"Well, take your time. Might be nicer to stay the night in the city, instead of rushing back overnight. Safer, too."
"Well, I have my protection."
Faralda stole a glance at Ariadne. Was it somehow a bit dismissive? "Aye," she said. "Of course. Well, everything is ready for your departure. Farewell—and see you again shortly." Again, she gave Ariadne an odd glance but didn't say anything. Only gave a strange little nod, and even that seemed more like a private one.
Bitch, what did I ever do to you!
"I'll have another word with you," Faralda then said to Calisto. "In my chambers."
Ariadne almost raised a brow at that, but managed to catch herself.
She had to wonder about the two. After all, Calisto would have long been a full-fledged master mage had he not, somewhat ironically, been so involved in all sorts of College affairs. But while his other duties had kept him from completing his formal studies, there was no question that he was far more proficient than almost anyone else, including the senior mages. He was a prodigy, to put it simply. And he had not simply contented himself with mastering one type of magic, which was most common, but more or less all of them. It was in fact quite possible that his skills already surpassed the Arch-Mage's, which was what made Ariadne wonder. He was at least as ambitious as he was attractive, that was plain to see.
Maybe it was Ariadne's own sensibilities talking, but she couldn't avoid the question: was the Arch-Mage perhaps more anxious about Calisto threatening her position, or more eager to get him into her bed?
Not that the woman had shown any inkling of either. But then the Altmer had a way of hiding their personal emotions. If they even had them, that was—for who could tell? But surely she must have truly been frozen from the inside out if she'd not once considered Calisto in that manner. Unless, of course, she was like Sissel. Though even then . . .
Faralda then switched her attention to Sissel. "You as well."
Oh, I see how it is!
Ariadne wanted to slap her mind into silence. I didn't sleep too well last night—that must be it.
Calisto nodded consent, then smiled at Ariadne, and she once more felt like melting. That's when she noticed Sissel giving her one of those eerie look-overs again. When their eyes met, the other woman smiled somewhat bashfully.
Ariadne, her suspicions as much as confirmed, quickly averted her eyes, deeply ill at ease. It would be bad enough if the woman were of an appropriate age, but she was old! Like, at least thirty!
Luckily, Calisto offered succor by choosing that moment for his sendoffs. "And so, loveliest Ariadne, we must part for now. But fear not, we shall be reacquainted sooner than you think. And when we are, well, there is something that I've been rather wanting to talk to you about. So, until then. And farewell, whatever it is that you're off to do." He gave her another radiant smiled and a small bow. She half prepared to offer her hand up for a kiss too, but held herself back.
Calisto, before swinging around, shot Ariela a dark glare, but said nothing to her. A brief look at Ariadne, a wink, and he was off.
"Uh, bye!" Ariadne said, completely robbed of wits.
The two remaining mage students just sort of wandered off, as the Arch-Mage towed Sissel and Calisto after her.
Staring after them, at Calisto's broad back, his swaggering gait, Ariadne bit her lower lip. She herself could not quite decide which was greater: her lust or her envy.
Are you sure about that?
Before she could quite fully react to the odd sudden persnickety turn of her own mind, the scholar faced her.
"Well, that was a bit awkward."
"I'll say," Ariadne replied coldly. "Did you have to just try and agitate him?"
Ariela blinked her widened eyes. "I . . ."
"Never mind," Ariadne muttered.
The scholar seemed to sort of shake herself. "Never mind, yes. We'll forget all about it soon enough."
"Yes," Ariadne mused. "Sure."
Ariela smiled. "Well, are you ready?"
No.
"Let's go then!" And she swung toward the doorway.
With a sigh and a suffering gaze up at the Hall's high ceiling, Ariadne followed, muttering incendiary words.
There was no way around it: the Arch-Mage clearly had it in for her. Most likely the old witch had purposely emphasized her glowing esteem towards all the other mages present barring Ariadne. But why? What had she ever done to deserve this?
With an invisible dark cloud shadowing her, she decided there and then that she'd figure the whole thing out whilst on this waste of time of a trek. And by the time they were back, she'd have some plan ready for how to deal with it. She would come out of this winning, she swore. She'd not suffer in silence and just take it!
Still, there was no way around it: there was no reason why she should be going thought something like this. No reason at all.
It was just so unfair!