Tsandi-Daro

"Don't… Minx, stop… "

After every performance Tsandi would climb into her bunk and crawl under the covers. For all intents and purposes she'd be dead to the world and no one could wake her, supposedly. Tiny fingers prodded her face relentlessly and now matter how she tried to shoo them away they always came back. "Stop it," she pleaded. They did not stop, and when the hand that tormented Tsandi began explore the inside of her ear she realized that they weren't going to until she got up.

"Agh! Minx!" She mashed her hand against her ear and sat up as quick as skeever after cheese. Minx, a black and white Nipon monkey grinned fiendishly at Tsandi from the bed spread. He was the theater troupe's mascot, for lack of a better term; and although he was a cute furball, he was also the personification of evil. Tsandi was just about to pick up her pillow and smother the creature to death when she suddenly realized that there was someone else standing just a few feet away.

"Good morning," greeted Nelsie, a dark elf woman who designed most of the troupe's costumes. "Or should I say good evening?" The monkey hopped off Tsandi's bunk and clung to the sleeve of the dunmer. "You forgot to take of your costume again. Seriously, you need to remember to take off your costume and bring it back to me. There are no back ups, so if you stain or tear it up when you're not on stage I'll personally skin you and turn your hide into a rug."

It took a second for the grogginess of sleep to wear off, but when it did Tsandii realised that she was still wearing her costume from the afternoon show. The shawl made to look like leaves that Nelsie had worked so hard on was a tad ruffled, and the green sampot pants she had spent an entire week to weave was wrinkled.

"Whoops," said Tsandi. "I didn't know I had these on. Sorry. Give me a moment to change and you'll have it." The look that Nelsie gave her was a skeptical one. She crossed her arms and Minx climbed up to her shoulder.

"Yeah, okay. Just don't do it again or I promise I really will skin you." Tsandi laughed but then she saw the seriousness in Nelsie's eyes and the laughter petered out. The dunmer left without glancing back, but Minx watched Tsandi the whole way out and she could swear that he was grinning. After Nelsie closed the caravan door behind her, Tsandi began to undress, pulling the shawl up over her head. and throwing it on the ground. The caravan was a relatively small and cramped space with four beds and little to no privacy. This caravan, that Tsandi was in right now, was solely for the women of the theater troupe. Underneath the beds, in small compartments, the women kept all their clothing and belongings. Popping open the lid, Tsandi took out her out of work clothes: long brown leather pants, a cloth camisole, and a fresh pair of underwear. She cursed when she accidentally knocked over stack of books, but with a quick slip the sampot was off and in the pile. Her regular clothes felt so much more comfortable that she could feel a purr in her throat. Last thing on was her boots, which was starting to wear down after a year of use. Maybe it's time to visit a cobbler?

Nelsie was waiting just outside the caravan when Tsandi was finished.

She dropped the outfit in the Dunmer's arms.

"Well, there you go."

After checking the costume pants and shawl over to check if they weren't damaged beyond something a little wash and drying could solve, Nelsie folded them up. Tsandi couldn't help but notice that the vile and obnoxious monkey Minx has skedaddled, no longer being on the dark elf's person.

"All right, it's all good. You can go back to your bunk and sleep now."

After a big yawn, Tsandi went back inside with her tail nearly catching in the door. She was right by the bed, but when she saw it she stopped. Normally it would have been as inviting as buttercream cake in a vinegar and onion tasting festival. But she knew when she first got up that she wouldn't be able to go to sleep again. The only thing to do was sit and mope on the covers. "Alkosh save me," she sighed. Her ears twitched when the sound of feet approaching scuffed the wood of the caravan door. In came the only other Khajiit in the troupe, Shadya-La.

"Oh, so you're up?" She seemed surprised. Glancing at the knapsack hanging at her side it looked as if she was about to go out and explore. The bunk jilted a bit when she came to sit down next to Tsandi and from the corner of her eyes she could she Shadya fiddling with her earing. "Hey, I know you like to rest after as how, but I was thinking that instead you and me could go do something together. Anything to escape the boredom, right?"

Tsandi breathed deeply and blew a raspberry. She was definitely right. Some of the few perks of being a part of a traveling act was all the sights and cities one could experience. Why waste the opportunity?

"Okay," she said, getting up and stretching her arms. "But I've only ever been to Senchal once before, a long time ago. Don't really remember what there is to do."

Shadya was quick to stand, eagerness taking a hold of her. She grabbed Tsandi's arm and spoke a thousand words a minute. "There's so many places that we could go! Last time I was here there was alchemy shop that would sell potions that could change a person's skin color, an incense shop with the best smelling candles I've ever wiffed, a book store that sold some very raunchy material, and I haven't even gotten started on the major tourist attractions…" It was easy for Tsandi to forget how distant Shadya was when she first joined. Even as the young Khajiit was describing the large paintings of Seccunda and Masser in the moon temple Tsandi was recalling that very first audition, and how Shadya performed while wearing what could best be described as rags. It wasn't pity that got her a part in their little family, at least, that's what Fweet said. She had heart, and gave it her all. And most importantly of all, she was an amazing actor, both on stage and off.

Shadya was still talking about the many things the two of them could do when Tsandi broke out of her thought. They were several yards off from the camp when when they both heard a call.

"Hey, where are you guys going?" Fweet the dark elf was coming over to them, an expression of impatience written all over his face and a look that said, I'm going to kill all your happiness and joy then put all your tears in a mug and drink it. "We're not done for the day. We still need to practice."

"What?" Shadya crossed her arms and stared at Fweet as if he was ripping out his own throat. "But… why? Rehearsals are done when we premiere. There's nothing left to improve upon. Rehearsing at this point is just a waste of time."

Shaking his head, Fweet went up between the girls and puts his arms around their shoulder and held them uncomfortably close for an eternity of a second. "Maybe that's how it worked with the old boss, but I'm not the same as him."

"It was a she," Tsandi corrected.

"Regardless of the gender of your previous boss, I'm the boss now; and I'm a man. That doesn't have much to do with anything, but I felt that you should know for whoever your future boss is. Okay?" He looked at both of them for confirmation. Tsandi grimaced and tried to avoid giving him the satisfaction of acknowledgement. "Well, back on topic. I expect a lot from you two. Wait, no! Not just you two, but the entire troupe. You all have the ability to transcend the limits of your own class, but only if we practice, practice, practice! Understand?" At long last he took his arms off of them and backed up a few steps. It was hard to describe the relief, but Tsandi likened the feeling breathing clean air after being inside a smoker's shack for an hour.

When the three of them got they found that only two others were out there ready. Yar the orc was there, obviously. It would have been ridiculous to even consider rehearsing without the steady beat of his drums. Besides him though, only Clinton was a show. He looked about as bored as anyone else as he sat on a nearby rock, reading his hard bound book. Fweet was beside himself when he realized the others were missing.

"Where's Nelsie and Greta, guys?" Everyone was despondent to the question. After glancing around and getting nothing but blank stares, Fweet threw up his hands in a fit. "Come on! You're all acting like you don't want to be here! Can't you see the opportunity in front of us?" More silence. "We could be famous! I mean, more famous. Merchant's Day is just a couple days off and The Mane is coming to Senchal. If he sees our show and really, really likes it there's a good chance that we'll be asked to perform for him and whole bunch of extremely important folks at the Blue Kemchal Palace."

It was a stretch at best. Everyone knew it. His idea depended on numerous independent factors such as entertainment not already having been booked, or whether the Mane just so happens to come by the Moon Temple and seeing their performance.

"Okay, you know what? Forget those guys. We'll just do the scenes they're not in first and when they get back we'll do theirs." There was a well rehearsed groan of despair from all the actors, a testament to what they could do through repetition. Clinton snapped his book shut and tapped the cover quizzically.

"More practice?" he poised. "Okay. What needs to be improved? Cause I don't think we could get any better than we are right now."

"I wouldn't say that." said Fweet, rolling his eyes and clapping his hands together. "You guys are all awesome, in large part thanks to me, but also all of your efforts; but there are just a few things we can do better. For example, the timing on all of your lines are timed just right. There's no room for any improvisation! The best actors use improv. So… there." It might have been the single most stupid thing any of them had ever heard. Clinton raised an alarmed eyebrow when Fweet had finished talking. His thoughts were on Tsandi's mind, and likely everybody elses. Since when did anyone ever encourage their actors to screw up on their lines?! Are you thick?! Fweet just stood there with a smug expression on his dark elf face, oblivious to the judgemental stares. The tension was getting too thick. Tsandi had to break the silence.

"Wow, Fweet. You're… you're right." The stares all transferred to her. Shadya seemed as if she was looking at Tsandi for the first time. Ignoring them, Tsandi waltzed over to Fweet and placed a fond hand on his shoulder. "We can do better. It's just, all our previous bosses forced us to practice over and over again until we were exhausted. None of them cared about us as individuals before, or believed in us." Trying to work up some crocodile tears, Tsandi began to bring the cheesiness factor up to eleven. "The way you encourage us, and just believe in us has kept us motivated. It's been what kept us all going."

It was hard to tell whose expression was richer, Fweet's or Yar. Fweet looked so touched he was on the verge of tearing up. Yar was giving her the death stare. Voice a quiver, Fweet tried to speak, but was cut by Tsandi.

"You're not just our boss. You're a dear friend to every single one of us. And just you saying we can do this would help us, and me, more than any amount rehearsals."

The deed was done. Fweet had a glow and a stance that spake of his own caressed ego. Shadya and Clinton had garnered what Tsandi was attempting by the time she was done and helped by putting on their most insincere smiles. Like a fly to a fly trap, Fweet was suckered in to the false praise. He waved and chuckled.

"Woot! Go Fweet!" hollered Clinton.

"Thanks guys. It means a lot that you all think so much of me and I'm going to make sure that you're feelings toward me are… deserved. I don't think we need to, um, go down that path of rehearsing all the time if what you're saying is the case. Like you all said, we're perfect and we just need to believe in ourselves."

That was all it took for everyone to skedaddle as fast as they could of there. Clinton found out that Shadya and Tsandi were going out on the town and asked if he could come. Shadya shook her head, but Tsandi insisted saying, "Clinton is the life of any room he walks into."

"It's true," he laughed. "I literally caused three taverns to break into song. Not at the same time, but individual bars over the space of several years." Everything seemed like it was building up to be a great night. Only one thing could ruin this for Tsandi.

"Hey, paleos." Fweet came over with his thumb in his pockets. The group grimaced. "Can I come with?"

"Uhm…" stammered Tsandi.

"Oh, I get it." said Fweet knowingly. "I'm a like a father to you guys, right? It's okay. Don't worry. You can all let loose when I'm around."

It was impossible to decline after the narrative that Tsandi worked up, and something told her that if they told Fweet the truth about how they truly feltl about him, he'd be more than a little upset. So they found themselves going down to Gobstopper's Tavern as a group of five rather than the originally intended three. Yar had insisted on coming along when he overheard that Fweet was going. He clung like a leech to his side, even when Fweet tried to drop some hints that he needed some space he only moved a few inches.

Gobstopper's wasn't very far from the temple district from where the troupe's caravans and show were hosted. In fact, it would only take a short jaunt through a quarter to reach the destination. The problem was, the quarter was throughout Elsweyr as the most dangerous squalor in the country. It was called The Black Keirgo, and even from the outset Tsandi could catch a glimpse of why it was so infamous. As the group passed by what only an optimist would call a hovel, Tsandi saw filth in the street gutters; the waste of every skooma tweaker and wretch just tossed on the ground. Every building seemed to be condemned. Perhaps at one point these buildings where shops or people's houses, but now the wood on all of them were rotted and/or warped by heat and time. Doors would off their hinges if they were seen at all; and the denizens that walked like ghosts through the streets looked deathly sick. Most of them were khajiit, but their furs were patchy and pale. A woman leaning on a windowsill stared at them as they went by and her eyes were bloodshot and her claws were falling off her fingers. What was worst though were the ones who were not Khajiit. They at least had some natural immunity to the drug. Bretons, Nords, Elves, and Argonians did not have even that. They were hooked; dependant both psychologically and physically on Skooma. Their bones were so well outlined it was like watching skeletons walk around. It was well known that some of these abandoned buildings homed skooma squatters, people who would stayed in these dark, rodent infested buildings and just smoke skooma or drink it until they ran out and have to get more, or died.

"Let's go around," suggested Clinton. Sure, they wouldn't get to drink themselves into a stupor as soon, but they'd still have their lives by the end of the night.

Go around The Black Keirgo passed them through the Jahding quarter. It was where the more downtrodden lived. Mostly in shacks, the people here typically worked for other large business for low wages. These were fishermen, miners, and farm workers. The fishermen were the luckier ones, since their work places was so near at hand what with three docks ringing around Senchal. Those that were miners and farmers usually had to work out in the country, and the ones squatting in the huts were the family they sent the money too. "What does Jahding mean?" asked Clinton.

Shadya was the first to answer. She tutted and looked mournfully at a raggedy Khajjit mother with a baby strapped to her back as she pinned her children's clothes on a clothesline. "Jahding means diamond. It's a sick joke placed on it by the corrupt politicians and big business owners who have enough wealth to by fish everything but don't."

"Woah, hey," said Tsandi, putting her hands up like a barrier. "I get not liking sleazy people in power, but this isn't the right night for guilt trips and political talks. Happy thoughts, okay? Just think happy thoughts until we we to the tavern. Then the alcohol will make the happy for us."

Fweet sighed and shook his head. "It's so typical of Kahjiit. Even their representatives steal from the poor."

"I completely agree," said Yar.

Shadya and Tsandi stared at them, and even Clinton was self-aware enough to be wide-eyed after hearing Fweet's comment.

It was silent after that.

The tavern wasn't too busy when they arrived. Tsandi had one saying though, where there was a bar there was always at least one nord, and tonight proved her right once again. Besides the old man running a wet rag over the wooden counter top there sat a Nord with rosy cheeks chugging down a mug of mead.

"A group, eh?" noticed the old man. His greying beard was tied up in a knot and his whiskers grown until they fell like weeping tree limbs. "Not many usually come in before Merchant's day except for a few regulars. Usually they save up and binge when everything is cheaper."

"Not us," said Fweet, strutting up to the counter. "I'm treating my family tonight and I want them to have all they want. So how much is a round for five?" The barkeep told him and his eyes widened. "Yikes, nevermind. Guys, you're all paying for your own drinks. Okay?"

Everyone reached into their pockets and pulled out their septims. The barkeep reached under the counter and pulled out five mugs one by one. Behind him was a large barrel with a tap and he filled the mug's up to the brim with amber brew that foamed over the sides. When Tsandi took her first chug her tastebuds were awash with the fruity tinge. Fweet smacked his lips and looked down into his cup. "This stuff is pretty sweet. Barkeep, get me some food to go with this. This is just way to sweet without something else to go with it."

The old man tugged at his beard and hollered to his wife sitting in the far back of the tavern by the spit. A layer of hot coals lay under it with the woman stirring a brew bubbling in a cast iron pot. At her husband's request she picked up a ladel and a bowl and filled it with a serving.

"What is it?" asked Yar, seeing the bowl being handed to Fweet. The contents seemed chunky and covered in a yellow curry. Fweet simply brought the bowl to his mouth and grabbed a mouthful before swallowing. He frowned. "Gah, this is sweet too."

"Yeah, that's the typical Elsweyr flavor," pointed out Tsandi. "Khajiit like their food and drink sweet. Moon sugar is actually one the primary ingredients in a lot of these dishes. This is called khish, and it's the meat that is sweet because it's cooked with honeymead. The curry is actually very bland but the spice it provides is much needed."

Clinton smiled into his mug as he watched Fweet make a sour face. The alcohol felt like warm embers spreading down Tsandi's nerve fibers. The dark elf discarded the bowl to the side and she was more than happy to take the rest. The mood was starting to pick up as they became happily drunk and the smell spit wafted through the tavern air. Clinton made friends with the nord as he told joke after joke.

"My favorite play is probably The Horror of Castle Xyr," he said with belch. "Not because I actually like the characters or the story, but because of what happened during one of its runs. I was with a different troupe and there was this complete asshole who was also one of the main characters. Anyway, halfway through the show one the audience members gets violent and we have to cancel the rest. My fondest memory is of that jerk running away from that knife-wielding maniac. The guards didn't do anything because they thought it was part of the play. Amazing."

Fweet was trying to interject himself between them, always awkwardly and off subject. Yar, the orc, simply sat in a bar stool and stared at them. It was very creepy with the way he said nothing. The girls decided to find somewhere with a view. Luckily, the tavern had a wooden staircase that led to a second floor patio. From there they could see over the tiled rooftops of Senchal all the way to the docks where ship sails gathered like clouds.

"First time I've ever been this close to the Topal Sea," said Tsandi, taking another swig of her half empty cup. "Some of these buildings our on stilts. Is there a reason or is it a cosmetic choice?"

Shadya shrugged. "I don't know. I'm not an architect, but it's probably so floods and hurricanes don't ruin their property or something." Tsandi nodded. The view was like a painting. Masser and Secunda where bright that night and the horizon was crimson from the setting sun. She saw the sections of the city from the rooftops like multicolored building blocks, all the social classes organized into their little districts.

Smiling, Tsandi looked at Shadya and noticed that she wasn't. Her ears were folded against her head and her tail was still, and melancholic look of nostalgia permeated her face.

"I'm going to be leaving the troupe when this production is over," she said, staring at the crimson sea. "Hopefully you won't hate me when I do."

"Why would I hate you?" asked Tsandi. "Sure, I'll miss you. You're the only girl that I felt like I could really talk with for years, but if you want to pursue opportunities elsewhere then…" She took a swig and then belched as loud and obnoxiously as she could. Shadya cracked a smile. "I can only wish you good luck."

The rest of the night was a blurry haze of singing and telling jokes. Clinton started the song and then the nord and barkeep joined in, apparently having heard it before, and eventually everyone was involved even if they only knew a few broken bits. It wasn't the smartest idea to get drunk the night before a performance, but for a while common sensibilities didn't matter so much. Shadya didn't tell anyone else about her leaving while they were together, so for all Tsandi knew she was the only one Shadya had shared that with. Later, when they all went back to their caravans; thankfully they still had enough wits about them to go back he way they came; Tsandi imagined what it would be like when Shadya was no longer with them. And then she realised, perhaps she was the lucky one. Tsandi had been apart of the troupe for long and had seen so many members come and go. Only her and Clinton were around when the original team was together. As she covered herself with sheets and rested her head on the cushion she wondered if she'd be apart of this for the rest of her life.