The crashing of waves stirred Ilsme from her deep slumber, the first uninterrupted and indulgent session of its kind since before the voyage to Haven, as Thorn had been too ghastly and foul of air to sleep continuously through. In the sounds of the sea did she find something akin to familiarity, as always, for some unknown purpose, she remained close to the open water when possible.
Streaks of incandescent colors bathed the room she had managed to rent for Vivec and herself. The Khajiiti innkeeper had failed to elaborate on the prismatic quality of the glass used in the windows of the inn's finer rooms, but Ilsme knew, for she had seen such a style once before in Cyrodiil. It was an obscure method of glassblowing, which implemented an equally obscure branch of Alteration magicks, one of few remnants of Ayleid architecture still in use today. Ilsme assumed it was the Altmeri influence in the city, for all knew that Bosmeri expertise did not extend to the delicate art of glassblowing.
With the drakes earned from S'rravi's less than daunting favor, Ilsme and Vehk had managed to rent an especially fine apartment, though the sly innkeeper was exacting in her price. As it were, the apartment suited both of their tastes quite well, with one rather large area devoted to washing and dining, while the other to a moderately sized room for sleeping. A divider in the Khajiiti fashion sufficed in providing an illusion of privacy between her own bed and Vehk's. Said mer was currently writing lines in the parlor, a word she was beginning to use to refer to the dining area.
Vehk's willingness to write poetry again was surely a sign of progress from the trauma sustained from losing his hegemony and all its refinement. Indeed, she had yet to see him condescend to writing lines since their journey began. Not wishing to disturb his peace, Ilsme instead donned a common gown and combed through her silvery hair, preparing to find breakfast for them both, as it was still too early for any innkeeper to bring meals.
The tavern area of the inn was empty, so far from what she had seen the day previous. Although, she assumed that stays here were often transient, as a prominent port city in the thick of southern Tamrielic piracy. In its design was a fusion of various cultural influences, telling of the many races of people who had occupied the city before. Seashells, large and small, cone-shaped and flat, hung from the ceiling in colors she'd never seen in Morrowind's coasts. Several counters and benches, and even the very walls, were an off-white marble, a remnant of either Ayleid or Altmeri occupancy, aged by time. Those benches that could not afford to be constructed from marble were instead a smooth sandstone, with Western elven carvings. Exotic flowers hung from the ceiling where seashells did not, and Ilsme believed that though none of the furnishings would look adequate on their own, the fusion amounted to a rustic charm.
On this morning, a Bosmer male minded the counter, small but lithe, equal to her in height. Ilsme approached him, and though she'd never met him before, she noticed a brief look of recognition crossed his tanned and fair face. A moment of panic found her, before she concluded that it was likely due to the opulence of the apartment she'd rented. It was common for innkeepers to see to the 'wealthiest' occupants with more delicacy, though Ilsme was far from wealthy.
"Apologies to you, friend, if I am irregular, but would it be burdensome to take a morning meal for my companion and I?" She asked, maintaining an approachable air.
"Um, not at all. Our cook has only just started 'is menu for the day. And seein' as you're here, and uh, the firs' to ask, if you have any requests, I'll get 'em to 'im right away." The Bosmer spoke in a thick accent, though he was apparently fluent in common, as a lack of fluency would be rather difficult in a port city.
Ilsme laughed lightheartedly, an airy sound even to her ears, and waved her hand before her in a gesture of tolerance, "You will find my companion and I are far from being picky with our meals. Something akin to bread or rice, with some local fruits if they're on hand. An egg or meat if it is not too troubling. Though again, whatever is on hand, will surely do."
Their light and casual conversation lingered for another minute or two, though it was primarily one-sided, as the Bosmer was of the shier sort. After finding that breakfast would be prepared within the hour, she soon found herself walking the shoreline, which was clear of a port and its ships about a quarter of a mile from Haven. Unarmed though far from unprepared, Ilsme walked lackadaisically to and fro, stopping on occasion to pluck an exceptional shell and take it for her own in the little red bag fastened to her hip.
A breeze, gentle and warm, sifted through her long, silvery hair, which she'd left down and unstyled. A sigh left her lips as for one blissful moment, the universe gave her the benefit of thinking about nothing at all. Like ever, though, her thoughts swiftly returned to Vehk, to how he was faring, as he was so quiet on the matter. Though Ilsme was not one to judge, since she'd confided in so few who have offered, and never had she confided in enough.
Tropical birds chirped and cawed in the thicket of the jungle, which was forty or farther yards from the sea. This land was indeed peaceful in the early morning, she'd found, before ships docked and the sound of a multitude of languages far outlasted the ambience of the sea and its creatures.
Her mind continued to drift from one person to the next, whom she'd left behind in Vvardenfell. Although they would fend far better without her supernatural meddling and statecraft, there were those she already missed dearly, and those she'd broken oaths to for leaving. House Telvanni would likely never speak of her again after her defense of Vivec, with the rare exception of Aryon, her morally flexible and gentle former master and teacher. Perhaps one day, in the far future, she would write to him by courier.
When the hour was close to passing, Ilsme returned to the boundaries of the city, passing through the inn, which was beginning to show signs of life besides her own. There were no other Dunmer besides herself, with many of the people belonging to the Western races of elves, or Redguard seafarers. The Bosmer who waited on her earlier passed her two breakfast trays, half of the meal she recognized, while the other, she did not. A kind of spongy flatbread served as the cook's choice of bread, while two fruits she'd never seen before and a large serving of uncooked fish commanded the attention of most of the tray. Alongside this was a bronze flagon of tea, with a small portion of honey and cream served with it.
After casting a telekinetic spell on either tray, much to the surprise of the common souls around her, she bade the objects to follow her up the flight of stairs, and to the apartment she and Vehk were staying in. There was silence but for the gentle and practiced scrape of quill on parchment, followed by the occasional pause as the mer in question dipped it in ink. Guilty for interrupting him though simultaneously seeking conversation, Ilsme lingered in the doorway, which was shrouded only by a sheer, silk curtain the color of a coral pink.
The scraping of the quill paused and its writer too, stopped his ministrations. A few seconds passed before his face, the angles of which were femininely beautiful and vigorously masculine, turned to regard her blankly, though she could see from the subtleties of his expression, that he was not irritated with her interruption. The breakfast trays floated in from behind her, and she was the first to speak.
"I hope I have not interrupted your focus, Vehk. Would you mind terribly if I took breakfast with you?" She asked gently, knowing that her providing for him could be seen as an assertion of dominance over him, and suspicion from Vehk was far from what she needed in the beginning of this newly repaired friendship they were nursing.
"No, not as terribly as you may think, Nerevarine." He responded in an equally light tone, reassuring her that he was not in the cusp of one of his fearsome tempers or mood swings. "What have we here, this spring morning?" Came his question when she sat the tray down on the floor by his feet, as she seated herself at a safe distance across from him.
Indeed, the fruits were brightly colored and exotic. One was bright yellow and diced in the shape of a star, while the other was comprised of small, purple and seed-like beads, and now that she was given leave to analyze them properly, she knew them to be pomegranates, a rare delicacy in Cyrodiil, which she knew now to be imported from the southern province of Valenwood.
"Ah, starfruit!" Vehk exclaimed, looking livelier upon being the possessor of a hidden knowledge only he knew of, "The nectar of which I have not known in millennia, since my many travels with Nerevar."
Vehk did not speak often of Nerevar, and she knew this to be because of discomfort. Discomfort which did not stem from guilt, but a lack thereof. She found this most troubling, as it would imply that he felt an insecurity for what he should and should not feel. From her assessment of his character by Nerevar, she knew this had manifested quite often in the two's time together, with Vehk looking uncomfortable when pressed to apologize to others by Nerevar, his lord. Now, however, he was well enough of an artist to shroud this oddly vulnerable character trait with the most sly and moving of performances.
Although eager to press for details of their travels, Ilsme knew the time was not yet right to approach him on this subject, though his sudden openness to it surely signaled progress for them both. She doubted he'd had the liberty to speak freely of Nerevar since taking the mantle and burden of godhood, as her namesake was delegated to a mere saint, much like she and Vehk were now.
A minute or two passed in silence, though she soon found reason to speak when she reached to serve tea to either of them. She would not meddle with Vehk's tea, as she was aware he was quite particular about it. The aroma of it was both sweet and spicy, quite unlike the tangy and earthy tones of most Dunmeri teas.
"What tea do you suppose we are drinking? Our publican was too busy for me to pester with the questions of a tourist, I'm afraid."
"That, or you are far too considerate. Alas, I would wager my belongings, which are admittedly few, on a green tea.." His finger, long, silver and thin, though deceptively without callous, was brought to his chin in a gesture of calm thought, "Certainly with an aroma of ginger and lemongrass, a sprinkling of cinnamon. I would not count on it alone sufficing for a morning tea, it is far too light."
A small smile tugged at her lavender-colored lips as she cast her spell on the food to ascertain if there was anything off or suspect.
"I'd no idea you'd become quite the connoisseur of such a particular discipline of cuisine. You must accompany me to the marketplace this afternoon to find better teas for brewing." She attempted congeniality on her emphasis of 'must', as experience with Vehk taught her to tread cautiously with her words.
Her companion rolled the starfruit lightly between index and thumb, before popping the fruit between his lips, an image of allure and deceptive languor, as said mer was never without worry. She too, began to prepare her breakfast for eating.
Finally, he said with no small measure of both fondness and whimsicality, "Unlike so many, I have had an age to narrow my taste to a select few things.. teas and other such frivolous things are no exception."
"Are you so certain that these things are frivolous, Vehk? After all, there are a great many who rely on trading it for their own livelihood, and the livelihood of their kin." She said it mostly in jest, though the upholder of ethics within her, which she knew she and Nerevar were cut from the same, wanted to bait Vivec into a corner where he could not escape a confrontation on the grounds of morality.
"You know as well as I that there are none who rely on its consumption, no matter how delectable, for sustenance." A tiny, barely noticeable smirk lifted one corner of his supple lips as he brought the cup to drink.
Soon enough, she joined him in drinking her own, the spicy aroma tingling her nose as it had been long since she'd tasted such heat in food. Though eager to have a friendly spar with Vehk, she had counted on him answering her in a roundabout way he was so apt to do. Only this time, it did not invoke such feelings as it had before, when their discussions during the fulfillment of the prophecies left her irate and small, and she knew they left him lonely and repressed.
As she took breakfast with him, her eyes spent as much time on her tray as they did his movements. Watching him was nothing short of excellent, even in a domestic climate as they were in now. Nerevar and the others had thought him handsome in a roguish sort of way, and though he was undoubtedly roguish, applying the term to him now seemed far too prosaic and common. And although he was an immovable chain that linked the other Tribunes into their proverbial necklace of supremacy and power, she knew that Vehk was ever the outlier between all of them. Even in godhood, he excelled in raising the glass ceiling to an uncomfortably comfortable height, that only he could inhabit; and this left the famous performer and Warrior-Poet ironically lonely even among those he shared in power with, for the universe did so have a flair for the ironical.
"What are you thinking about? You seem so very far away, Ilsme. I did not believe the exotic fruits would enrapture you so.." Her eyes narrowed slightly, as she wondered how to proceed in answering him.
If Vehk was stating the obvious and posing it as a question, it could mean many things, for he was not one to do such things without a secret motive. Ilsme attempted to conceal her innate defensiveness, as she reasoned his motives could not be so nefarious if his eyes gleamed as they did now, showing an open kindness that was so incredibly rare for the mer. Her head tilted minutely, bringing with it some silvery waves, assessing him critically, though not unkindly, before she answered.
"I am considering your motives in asking such a question with so obvious an answer." She said.
It was now Vehk's turn to meet her stare more briskly, though she was glad to see it did not immediately put him on defense – calling him out in such a way. She knew that Vehk did not like any of his shortcomings or failures to come to light, rather, he dwelt on them alone, for he was secretly a brooder. Nor did he particularly enjoy when his schemes were spoken of in such a forward manner, for forward questions naturally brought forth forward answers. As someone remarkably subtle and socially wise as Vehk was, he often avoided such discussions. The one exception was their first few meetings, when he was so averse to speaking with her, that he provided her with blunt, almost scathing answers, which she knew to secretly be a mark of respect from him.
Though from where could one draw the line? He spoke even to those fortunate few he cared for with sheer unpredictability, choosing courtly deception and subtlety one discussion and then blunt and abrupt forwardness the next.
"Is it so obvious an answer, my friend? Despite wishing to at times, I cannot and have never been able to read your mind." His statement stunned her speechless for a moment, though just a moment.
Torn between pondering if what he'd said was supposed to be a diversion, or whether he truly meant it, and why, and then how he couldn't read her mind even as a demigod, Ilsme tried to decide from what angle she should answer him. As any mortal with ears to hear would be, she was momentarily flattered by his flowery words and honeyed intonation, for which she knew he prided himself on. He was now playing with her, that much she knew from his tone of voice, though she had become too familiar with the Vehk who was usually so solemn and withdrawn.
"Do you mean to say that you could not read my mind three years ago, or perhaps that you never could of anyone's?" She spoke now more out of curiosity than anything, as now that the question was raised, she was truly mystified about the powers the Heart had given Vivec and his fellow Tribunes. Nerevar's memories could only donate so much to her on this matter, since the esoteric natures of the Heart were only beginning to be unraveled where Nerevar's memories stopped and her own began.
With his expression blank, Vehk was harder to read than usual, a point of distress for Ilsme, who most often relied on reading others to succeed in doing anything. In every way, he, who was strikingly similar to her in ways she did not yet feel comfortable reflecting on, was also her greatest challenge. It was humbling, and both she and the mer before her both needed frequent lessons in humility.
"If I affirm one question, and deny another, will you know the truth of it?" At his evasion, she stilled and no longer felt the twinge of hunger in her belly, for her belly was now full of guilt. The reasons for deflection in his case were many, but she strongly suspected that in this circumstance, there was a weakness involved.
This mer was sentient, though, capable of surviving great trauma that none other alive save herself could understand, and using it in so opportunistic a way as to make himself a more cunning opponent. Vehk was not a frightened babe, nor a frail commoner who was asking her to find his lost netch herd. No, he could deflect weakness and shortcoming with both ruthless charm and malicious glee.
He was testing her wit.
"Let us suppose you have a 'yes' and a 'no' for me, answering one question with each. If that's the case, you would naturally be saying you have never read my mind in anyway."
Upon her statement, which was said slowly and critically, either corner of Vehk's lips raised, and she knew then, that he had revealed everything without revealing anything. Though for one vital moment, he had let her, not Nerevar, in, and it occurred to her that both she and Nerevar were relearning the beautiful liar that was his former comrade, for she could not remember Vehk admitting to anything private with Nerevar, as Nerevar had only used his keen interpersonal skills and perception to solve the puzzle of Vehk, which was missing many pieces as it were.
"You are far cleverer than he ever was, Ilsme." Was all he said in reply, the brevity of his words lending it an otherwise inexpressible depth, like that which belonged to the waves of the clear sea crashing into the beach near to their apartment.
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The marketplace of Haven boomed in the heat of the day, whose only balm was the gentle breeze flowing from the sea nearby. Merchants docked and traded their fine wares like Altmeri silk and chiffon, as well as exotic herbs and pipes, and she strongly suspected slaves, because there was not a strong enough Imperial presence here to enforce the laws of civil freedom coming from their land of milk and honey.
Ilsme's initial plan in the marketplace this day was to find more suitable fabrics to wear, since her thick robes sufficed for tumultuous ashstorms, but not so for tropical heat. In addition to that, produce and teas, because their inn did not offer more than breakfast, without a price. The domesticity of it was surreal, as every time Ilsme became familiar with anything, a new problem arose and any sense of familiarity was swiftly wiped from the picture, like a tide on sand.
Taking care of herself and others was a most fulfilling purpose, and it would more than satisfy her longing for the time. She perused through the silk and other sheer wraps and gowns, caressing the gossamer fabrics and appreciating their novelty. She'd not spied silk sold so cheaply since her adolescent years, when she'd still lived in the Heartland, a land of plenty indulgences and little else.
"This gown would exact no less than a thousand drakes in our homeland.." She said in Dunmeris to Vehk who was at her side, perusing the garments with a critical eye. He was, as ever, unashamedly, a lover of beauty.
"Is that so? I distinctly remember your silks on the day of my hearing. Forgive me, but I do not imagine even the Nerevarine had the trading connections that would make such acquisitions possible." He spoke slyly to her, fishing for information, a fact that humored her but for the occasion, she could not stop the passing grief she felt with the garment, which was a symbol of her status as Hortator.
"They were a gift." Was all she said, and Vehk did not press anymore, with the keen social sense he was known for.
The years she'd spent in Vvardenfell acclimated her to the linens and fibers extracted from the island's exotic flora, and occasionally its fauna. Chitin, kresh fiber, and cotton (on rare occasion). Ilsme eyed the marketplace with no small amount of critique, though her gaze was not as sharp nor as flattering as her companion's. All around, women sighed and swooned at his attention, which was always a brief contest of stares, a contest that they all lost. It was amusing, though she felt small pity for the unenlightened women who never stood a chance to gain his respect or favor. For, as it were, Vehk respected little else than himself, but he was not above few exceptions.
She decided on two gowns, one short-sleeved and silk, colored a silver one shade darker than her hair, and the other a silk, of the same fashion though the color of seafoam. A number of sheer and thin tunics alongside breeches both long and short were purchased.
Khajiiti merchants along with their sly Alfiq partners offered many teas, for reasonable prices. The aroma of the stalls filled the air and for a moment one might forget they were in an infamously fetid jungle, and instead in a realm of Sanguine's devising, where one's every savory desire was filled. Many of the blends were sweet as their feline merchants tended to prefer, though some were spiced and reminiscent of the green tea she'd shared with Vehk earlier that morning.
The tea merchants were shrewd in their dealings, but aside from her own powers of speech, Vehk's presence tended to convince even the most stalwart of tradesmen. It was firstly an orphan's skill before it was a sage's, developed out of desperation and little of anything else, for orphans such as they had nothing except their words. Those born into wealth and status didn't need charm, though it made the fruit far sweeter.
"I suppose I shall go and search for an enchanting master. It will not do to wander in plain clothes, when we are so plainly vulnerable." She joked lightly to Vehk, who was at her side, as they left the central marketplace together.
"No." Vehk said simply, and for a moment she was left to wonder what exactly he'd said it in response to. She turned her head to face him, silvery hair blowing gently in the warm, afternoon breeze. His face was blank, though a slight worry in his brow clearly expressed some kind of desire or irritation, two emotions that co-inhabited him frequently. Despite this, he looked perhaps more beautiful than she'd seen him yet, with a multitude of colors dancing on his face, from the prismatic glass window panes and the shifting sun.
"Allow me the privilege, if you will. Many ages ago, I divined a method of enchanting that needs no soul gem, and indeed, no soul. Ghastly things, they are, with equally ghastly and malignant masters." She considered him for a moment, and deduced that his expertise was many, a thing she'd forgotten, because at times, it was becoming easier to forget that he was once a god. Perhaps, it was because she'd never truly known him as a god. He was instead Vehk the mer, Vehk the betrayer, Vehk the poet, though never Vivec, the tribune.
"The privilege is yours, of course. Though one person's privilege is another's toil – so you have written, I hear. Allow me to help you, Vehk. I will, in this case, toil while you languish, if this be acceptable?" A small smile pulled at both of their lips when she quoted one of his verses.
Though inklings of bitter taste would still remain between them for some time, she did not wish to be existing so close to him, yet so far away. In her, there was now a fierce determination to become closer to him as Nerevar was.
"Yes, though I too have a proposition for you. It is light and without burden, and I would have you take it as a gift of my thanks to you, and as an embodiment of your forgiveness. I regret it took me long to repay you for the Spear of Absolution, that you so generously gave to a mer who was not your friend, but rather your loathsome enemy."
His fingers, long, deft, and nimble, dug gracefully into the depths of his breeches' pocket, to find a small sheet of parchment that she recognized as belonging to their apartment. When he gave it to her, she noticed first the penmanship, a masterful work of art like the prodigious artist that stood before her. And secondly, the lines, which did not mention her by name, though were clearly dedicated to her. Though she did not move her eyes off of the parchment, she knew he was no longer with her, and had left her to process the poem. Although, to call it a poem did not suffice, as a far greater name for it would be an apology – something foreign in the context of Vivec.
