Sierra and Kenil were walking down the halls of the seminary one day,
"Hey farmer!" Said a voice.
Both Sierra and Kenil were laughed at for being farmers, unlike the 'city- dwellers' of St. Olms. Kenil looked back in hate, it was Boreal Alders, a fat dumner who desired a target in which he can forever lay his insults on. In other words, a bully.
"Dumb farmer!"
Kenil didn't like these kids who called them dumb. It was wrong, pure and simple. But what was worse, wasn't the fact that these kids often joked and called them names behind their backs, but that other kids followed, that they tried to be the same bully Boreal was. That was what made it worse.
"Hey, dumb farmer! Look at them, two farmers side by side. The dumb go together!"
It was good to have a friend, thought Kenil. He glanced at his side, and saw Sierra. It was good to have a person to share your thoughts and feelings with. Sierra glanced back with the same face. He felt, he felt sad, sad. Sad how the world was unfair; that even though his father and uncle had died the world was treating them like this. Sierra felt the same way, too. Then. something happened that Kenil would think only happened once in a lifetime, and only with a person he cared most about. Suddenly, Kenil could feel his hands pressed against Sierra's warm palm. It suddenly struck Kenil that Sierra had the same feelings deep inside. Both were aware of each other's thoughts somehow, like they were connected through telepathy. Her warm palm drew an odd sensation within him, something that he hadn't experience since that time at the river when they went fishing and they had kissed.
It was. it came from inside his heart. Like magic, Kenil smiled. He looked at Sierra's complexion and felt her pulling his hands very close to her body at the same time he was pulling her hands to his. It was a lovely struggle, like a tug-of-war with only two people and no rope. And when people did that, they usually ended up intentionally standing very close. So close that both nearly upset each other's balance. Kenil somehow fell forward.
Sierra somehow managed to keep her balance and through that, held his. A smile came up on Kenil's face while he looked down at the floor. Sierra's face was much the same, he noted, because of the way her hands felt when she laughed. She was so close to him that as he stood back up, her breath fell on the back of his neck. A tingling sensation bristled his skin, and it felt -
It feels so good.
Like a reassurance; Like a 'I've got your back, and you've got mine.' That type of assurance. Kenil was much awed by the friendship they had, so much that he forgot all about the insults and laughter and teasing, especially the "Oh look! Dumb farmers marry dumb farmers!" Why? Because as long as Sierra is here, everything's okay.
Everything's okay. As long as you're by my side, Siri, then everything will be just fine and we won't have to worry about what to do or how we'll live without Granther or Uncle Gul. I won't have to worry about mother anymore now that you'll be behind me forever.
He felt warm and cuddly inside.
--
Like all schools, the seminary had days of examination. They tested the children on that they should have learned the past weeks, and with no miracle, Sierra came out on top. In fact, she knew all the hymns and verses and poetic recants and history of the tribunal and so forth. All was silent after the news spread, and all the insults appeared as to have retracted. The news spread like wildfire. Her already notoriety turned into astonishingly (sometimes exaggerated) fame. The students began to listen to her questions, which she could now ask without further reprimand.
In school, Kenil found an unlikely passion. It happened when the Father Priest, a stoic elderly man who rarely ever showed emotions, handed out a small printed paper with scribbles and lines and what appeared to be a flat piece of. mutton. Thought Kenil. It appeared to look like mutton, because although it was circled by land, Cyrodil was of a different color. At first, Kenil didn't know what to make of it until he was told that what he saw was a map of Tamriel, and the brownish coloring mutton was Cyrodil, the capital city of the empire.
The father priest, although every stoic, failed to hid his distain for Cyrodil. Somewhere along his usually long dictations, Kenil could sense an odd unpleasantness whenever the Father mentioned Cyrodil in his texts. He had to, of course, it was mandated that he must teach about the imperial capital lest he be reprimanded. He made this information aware to many of the children as if to say he would not have taught it if he were in control.
Kenil did have this same dislike of Cyrodil. Cyrodil to him was like a central nub, a control center. This one fact had more appeal to him than another information about imperial culture. He became deeply interested as the father Priest spoke of this place, even in his contemptuous tong. Cyrodil. Kenil murmured. Cyrodil is where the paper is printed. Cyrodil is where all things are made. Cyrodil. Cyrodil controls all. Kenil became so deeply engraved with the imperial capital that inside, he truly desired to find out much about the great land for himself. He wanted to venture forth, away from his native Morrowind, to that place where all decisions are made and where history is written.
But Kenil feared showing too much affection for such a distant place. Like teacher, the students followed Father Priest's condescending remarks, so that they were also slightly weary whenever the subject of Cyrodil came up. They, too, knew they had to learn it, as a rule, all the more furthering their dislike of Cyrodil and that jesting term outlander, which Kenil and Sierra had initially been treated like upon first entering the seminary.
Sierra on the other hand, didn't desire as much for Cyrodil - as much as she desired to become a true priestess. Perhaps, she voiced once to Kenil while the other kids were away so they would not become jested, I will be first female Archmagister.
Kenil smiled back, knowing that with Sierra, it just might be true. Sierra was a good student, a great student to be exact. She could dictate verses of any subject without effort it seemed to Kenil. So well that at times, Kenil found it hard to keep up with her didactic recants of verses of books full of theology. Her pace was faster. On occasions, she felt there was nothing in the world of church teachings that she could not conquer. Her instincts on the other hand were a different matter. She was a dark elf, given to frequent bouts of sexual aggression and, for her case, at best, attempts to suppress the given instincts given to her by her birth. The sexual aggression she turned on Kenil, who accepted it willingly. The other matter, a truly destructive passion, was indigenous only for her. It was the desire for practicing pyrotechnics. There were those who are born with less of their instincts, and there were those, much unique like Sierra, who had them throbbing in their veins.
One day, the flames arched forward as Sierra controlled them with all her might and will. It was dark and the first occasion where the sun had popped up in a long time but eventually gave away to the purplish sky; people crowded the bridges and the archways of Vivec that day to see the sunrise and set. The children ran from bridge to bridge, over the calm water. The adults, afraid of children 'accidentally' getting too near the edge and slipping over the border into the sea down down below, baffled themselves with jokes amidst the serenade of music. As the day passed, Kenil and Sierra eventually found a walkway up to the roof of the cantons, where a couple of stands were put up but were not too crowded. A scenic place, one could see as far as the eastern horizon with its mists could allow. A long strip of land marking the peninsula appeared in view whereas down below on the lower platforms one could not see such an inky line.
In the night, Sierra let her instincts go, and after they found a secluded place to make love, Sierra create a fire of enormous size hovering over their heads. The sky was dark; the fire made it darker in comparison. Kenil was not surprised by this ability. He could make a small fireball himself, but not such a big orderly spurt with such continuity. That he knew Sierra could do, her intelligence and sheer will beamed over all other students in the school in St. Olms Canton, proven.
As they grew older, the couple met many times up there even while it rained. They told each other jokes about the school day, and sought each other for refuge when times were bad. Kenil had heart for his mother, but after years of pessimistic grouching, he became less of an optimist for his mother - and more indifferent as each day passed. The older boys in the school kept their eyes on Sierra, even when they knew she would be forever taken. Some tried to challenge Kenil to a match of magic or whatnot, but having a friend like Sierra allowed one to beat each through their individual weaknesses. Not that Kenil wasn't too bright himself, he was. But he was also normal. Sierra, on the other hand, was not.
At the last time they met, after yet another passionate serenade of love, Sierra whispered that she'd be leaving for a greater place to study.
High Fane. Those words resounded in Kenil's head. She was well off in intellect to balance any amount of drakes she'd need that only rich children had so they could attend.
Kenil kept to himself, for he truly wished to say no, but a 'no' would have given her pain, for she truly desired to go.
If only she wasn't so good, or if she wasn't so enthusiastic, then she'd stay with me. Thought Kenil, then he regretted he had said that because it was a selfish thing to think. She was good, gifted-good, and she would excel at any place she went. If only, Kenil thought, if only I were equally great, then I could follow her. But he wasn't. And Kenil feared he never would be. But there were other things Kenil wanted to do. And he supposed it was about time for them to split, even if they were fond lovers. Kenil wished to visit Cyrodil, that place of infinite charisma, and perhaps to become a cleric there while attending the sick. He knew enough about the elven body to understand which disease was which, and the differences between the two races weren't that different once one knew one of them. And so, Kenil yielded, smiling, but had already begun missing her inside.
Sierra gave him a kiss, and then relentless grabbed him by the mouth and squeezed herself onto him. They made love a second time.
After Kenil bade her goodbye, he wondered when he might see her again. Maybe, when she made Archmagister? Or a great canon? Or stood on the palace with Vivec greeting her? His dreams, he thought. Those were his dreams. They were impossible dreams, true. And now she was more close to them than he might ever become. He wished the best of luck to her. Little did they know, the next the two lovers saw each other would not appear in anyway the same as in their dreams. Kenil was about to leave for Cyrodil, the capital city, with all the best wishes of his education - while Sierra, was about to leave for High Fane. Although it was not far away, not far at all by any comparison, it was the closest thing, perhaps, to the Devil's Eye.
"Hey farmer!" Said a voice.
Both Sierra and Kenil were laughed at for being farmers, unlike the 'city- dwellers' of St. Olms. Kenil looked back in hate, it was Boreal Alders, a fat dumner who desired a target in which he can forever lay his insults on. In other words, a bully.
"Dumb farmer!"
Kenil didn't like these kids who called them dumb. It was wrong, pure and simple. But what was worse, wasn't the fact that these kids often joked and called them names behind their backs, but that other kids followed, that they tried to be the same bully Boreal was. That was what made it worse.
"Hey, dumb farmer! Look at them, two farmers side by side. The dumb go together!"
It was good to have a friend, thought Kenil. He glanced at his side, and saw Sierra. It was good to have a person to share your thoughts and feelings with. Sierra glanced back with the same face. He felt, he felt sad, sad. Sad how the world was unfair; that even though his father and uncle had died the world was treating them like this. Sierra felt the same way, too. Then. something happened that Kenil would think only happened once in a lifetime, and only with a person he cared most about. Suddenly, Kenil could feel his hands pressed against Sierra's warm palm. It suddenly struck Kenil that Sierra had the same feelings deep inside. Both were aware of each other's thoughts somehow, like they were connected through telepathy. Her warm palm drew an odd sensation within him, something that he hadn't experience since that time at the river when they went fishing and they had kissed.
It was. it came from inside his heart. Like magic, Kenil smiled. He looked at Sierra's complexion and felt her pulling his hands very close to her body at the same time he was pulling her hands to his. It was a lovely struggle, like a tug-of-war with only two people and no rope. And when people did that, they usually ended up intentionally standing very close. So close that both nearly upset each other's balance. Kenil somehow fell forward.
Sierra somehow managed to keep her balance and through that, held his. A smile came up on Kenil's face while he looked down at the floor. Sierra's face was much the same, he noted, because of the way her hands felt when she laughed. She was so close to him that as he stood back up, her breath fell on the back of his neck. A tingling sensation bristled his skin, and it felt -
It feels so good.
Like a reassurance; Like a 'I've got your back, and you've got mine.' That type of assurance. Kenil was much awed by the friendship they had, so much that he forgot all about the insults and laughter and teasing, especially the "Oh look! Dumb farmers marry dumb farmers!" Why? Because as long as Sierra is here, everything's okay.
Everything's okay. As long as you're by my side, Siri, then everything will be just fine and we won't have to worry about what to do or how we'll live without Granther or Uncle Gul. I won't have to worry about mother anymore now that you'll be behind me forever.
He felt warm and cuddly inside.
--
Like all schools, the seminary had days of examination. They tested the children on that they should have learned the past weeks, and with no miracle, Sierra came out on top. In fact, she knew all the hymns and verses and poetic recants and history of the tribunal and so forth. All was silent after the news spread, and all the insults appeared as to have retracted. The news spread like wildfire. Her already notoriety turned into astonishingly (sometimes exaggerated) fame. The students began to listen to her questions, which she could now ask without further reprimand.
In school, Kenil found an unlikely passion. It happened when the Father Priest, a stoic elderly man who rarely ever showed emotions, handed out a small printed paper with scribbles and lines and what appeared to be a flat piece of. mutton. Thought Kenil. It appeared to look like mutton, because although it was circled by land, Cyrodil was of a different color. At first, Kenil didn't know what to make of it until he was told that what he saw was a map of Tamriel, and the brownish coloring mutton was Cyrodil, the capital city of the empire.
The father priest, although every stoic, failed to hid his distain for Cyrodil. Somewhere along his usually long dictations, Kenil could sense an odd unpleasantness whenever the Father mentioned Cyrodil in his texts. He had to, of course, it was mandated that he must teach about the imperial capital lest he be reprimanded. He made this information aware to many of the children as if to say he would not have taught it if he were in control.
Kenil did have this same dislike of Cyrodil. Cyrodil to him was like a central nub, a control center. This one fact had more appeal to him than another information about imperial culture. He became deeply interested as the father Priest spoke of this place, even in his contemptuous tong. Cyrodil. Kenil murmured. Cyrodil is where the paper is printed. Cyrodil is where all things are made. Cyrodil. Cyrodil controls all. Kenil became so deeply engraved with the imperial capital that inside, he truly desired to find out much about the great land for himself. He wanted to venture forth, away from his native Morrowind, to that place where all decisions are made and where history is written.
But Kenil feared showing too much affection for such a distant place. Like teacher, the students followed Father Priest's condescending remarks, so that they were also slightly weary whenever the subject of Cyrodil came up. They, too, knew they had to learn it, as a rule, all the more furthering their dislike of Cyrodil and that jesting term outlander, which Kenil and Sierra had initially been treated like upon first entering the seminary.
Sierra on the other hand, didn't desire as much for Cyrodil - as much as she desired to become a true priestess. Perhaps, she voiced once to Kenil while the other kids were away so they would not become jested, I will be first female Archmagister.
Kenil smiled back, knowing that with Sierra, it just might be true. Sierra was a good student, a great student to be exact. She could dictate verses of any subject without effort it seemed to Kenil. So well that at times, Kenil found it hard to keep up with her didactic recants of verses of books full of theology. Her pace was faster. On occasions, she felt there was nothing in the world of church teachings that she could not conquer. Her instincts on the other hand were a different matter. She was a dark elf, given to frequent bouts of sexual aggression and, for her case, at best, attempts to suppress the given instincts given to her by her birth. The sexual aggression she turned on Kenil, who accepted it willingly. The other matter, a truly destructive passion, was indigenous only for her. It was the desire for practicing pyrotechnics. There were those who are born with less of their instincts, and there were those, much unique like Sierra, who had them throbbing in their veins.
One day, the flames arched forward as Sierra controlled them with all her might and will. It was dark and the first occasion where the sun had popped up in a long time but eventually gave away to the purplish sky; people crowded the bridges and the archways of Vivec that day to see the sunrise and set. The children ran from bridge to bridge, over the calm water. The adults, afraid of children 'accidentally' getting too near the edge and slipping over the border into the sea down down below, baffled themselves with jokes amidst the serenade of music. As the day passed, Kenil and Sierra eventually found a walkway up to the roof of the cantons, where a couple of stands were put up but were not too crowded. A scenic place, one could see as far as the eastern horizon with its mists could allow. A long strip of land marking the peninsula appeared in view whereas down below on the lower platforms one could not see such an inky line.
In the night, Sierra let her instincts go, and after they found a secluded place to make love, Sierra create a fire of enormous size hovering over their heads. The sky was dark; the fire made it darker in comparison. Kenil was not surprised by this ability. He could make a small fireball himself, but not such a big orderly spurt with such continuity. That he knew Sierra could do, her intelligence and sheer will beamed over all other students in the school in St. Olms Canton, proven.
As they grew older, the couple met many times up there even while it rained. They told each other jokes about the school day, and sought each other for refuge when times were bad. Kenil had heart for his mother, but after years of pessimistic grouching, he became less of an optimist for his mother - and more indifferent as each day passed. The older boys in the school kept their eyes on Sierra, even when they knew she would be forever taken. Some tried to challenge Kenil to a match of magic or whatnot, but having a friend like Sierra allowed one to beat each through their individual weaknesses. Not that Kenil wasn't too bright himself, he was. But he was also normal. Sierra, on the other hand, was not.
At the last time they met, after yet another passionate serenade of love, Sierra whispered that she'd be leaving for a greater place to study.
High Fane. Those words resounded in Kenil's head. She was well off in intellect to balance any amount of drakes she'd need that only rich children had so they could attend.
Kenil kept to himself, for he truly wished to say no, but a 'no' would have given her pain, for she truly desired to go.
If only she wasn't so good, or if she wasn't so enthusiastic, then she'd stay with me. Thought Kenil, then he regretted he had said that because it was a selfish thing to think. She was good, gifted-good, and she would excel at any place she went. If only, Kenil thought, if only I were equally great, then I could follow her. But he wasn't. And Kenil feared he never would be. But there were other things Kenil wanted to do. And he supposed it was about time for them to split, even if they were fond lovers. Kenil wished to visit Cyrodil, that place of infinite charisma, and perhaps to become a cleric there while attending the sick. He knew enough about the elven body to understand which disease was which, and the differences between the two races weren't that different once one knew one of them. And so, Kenil yielded, smiling, but had already begun missing her inside.
Sierra gave him a kiss, and then relentless grabbed him by the mouth and squeezed herself onto him. They made love a second time.
After Kenil bade her goodbye, he wondered when he might see her again. Maybe, when she made Archmagister? Or a great canon? Or stood on the palace with Vivec greeting her? His dreams, he thought. Those were his dreams. They were impossible dreams, true. And now she was more close to them than he might ever become. He wished the best of luck to her. Little did they know, the next the two lovers saw each other would not appear in anyway the same as in their dreams. Kenil was about to leave for Cyrodil, the capital city, with all the best wishes of his education - while Sierra, was about to leave for High Fane. Although it was not far away, not far at all by any comparison, it was the closest thing, perhaps, to the Devil's Eye.