You said it was OK to send you asks about eso npcs so...
There's an archivist in Summerset, Meredil at the Illumination Academy. He essentially gets possessed by the collective spirit of all the trashy romance novels he reads, but after the spell wears off he's terribly embarrassed of how forward he was with the Vestige.
Would you consider writing something where the Vestige visits him again afterwards? :3
Ah, thank you for the request! I had to go back and re-play that quest, so thank you for that too :)
I should warn you: unless requested otherwise, I think it's fun to write the Vestige as The Vestige, ie the race-less, genderless PC, the person with no memories who asks questions like what does a high king do, exactly? And for the record I don't mind writing ~spicy things, but I usually keep anon asks on the lighter side unless requested otherwise.
So, this is cheesy enough for [i am shot to prevent sheogorath jokes]. I HIGHLY doubt this is what you had in mind, but... enjoy?
Thank you so much for the request, anon! Anyone reading this should feel free to submit more, if the spirit moves you.
(2k words, PG-rated, allusions to sex)
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We check up on all the students and faculty as we’re leaving the Illumination Academy. A lot of them are embarrassed after being transformed into book characters, but Bastian and I had a great time here. For me, it was because I got to mess with people a little bit, which I rarely get to do when I’m Serving The People Of Tamriel. For Bastian, it was because we took the time to stand around and read dozens of musty books. I mean, the ones I read were interesting, but he was reading things with titles like The Quarandil Theses and Perspectives on First Era Pastoralist Poetry. I love the guy, but how would I even know if one of those books suddenly possessed him and became his personality, like happened to the students today? At least I learned a lot from everything I read.
I get distracted by the fish pond near the gate, and soon someone appears next to me—Meredil, the archivist I spoke to in the school.
“I'm glad I caught you—I really must apologize again for my forward behavior earlier,” he says, laughing a bit nervously. "This is not the first mishap we've had with the Library of Shrieking Terror."
“Oh,” I say, waving my hand dismissively. “It wasn’t your fault. I don’t care at all. Your version of the curse actually seemed kind of fun.”
His laugh gets more nervous. “Well I’d never deny that, though ironically what remains of it gets less fun by the moment... Anyway, look, I realize this is quite awkward, given what I’ve just said about my… current state of affairs, but let that only serve to underscore the fervor of my curiosity.” He swallows uncomfortably, and looks away for a moment. “I must ask you: how is it that your armor is glowing like that?”
I’m not sure what I’d expected him to say, but it wasn’t that. “You know, I don’t know? I guess I assumed it was enchantments?”
He looks astonished. “You can’t possibly tell me no one has asked you before, in your line of work.”
I shrug. “I don’t really know what my line of work is. Lots of people call me ‘adventurer’—do you not see many adventurers in these parts?”
“Oh, goodness; I am only a hundred fifteen years old, but I have seen a fair number of adventurers in these parts.” His eyes go wide. “Oh, don’t listen to me,” he says playfully. “Since the Queen’s decree, we do see travelers and wayfarers of many sorts, but, well… I can’t say too many of them go into the depths of the archives.” He sighs. “Stars, I need to get out more.” He shakes his head. “Anyway, I’ve certainly seen some fancy adventuring gear but that…” He looks at my outfit in admiration. “Well-designed, well-fitting, and glowing! I’ve never seen a glow enchantment quite like that—I spent several long moments trying to calculate how one might go about amplifying an enchantment for such purposes before my curiosity got the better of me, and I hoofed it out here to see if I could find you to ask about it.”
“Ha, I really hadn’t thought about it much,” I say, now keenly aware of how brightly my gear is glowing, even in the late morning sunlight. “I’m sorry I couldn’t give you a better answer.”
“Oh, don’t apologize at all,” he says. “Really, I had to know if it was something simple I hadn’t thought of, and otherwise, I couldn’t miss my chance to talk with someone with access to something like that. I don’t mean to be off-putting, but I imagine you must be a wildly interesting person.”
“Ah, well…” For some reason I’m more honest with this mer than I usually am when people say stuff like that to me. “Actually, I don’t think I’m all that interesting, as a person. When that guy’s bored of you?” I gesture to Bastian, who’s behind me staring up at the sky in abject boredom. He doesn’t even hear me. “That’s dull. At first when I got here, I was trying the same boring tactics to un-curse people as the mer who cursed everyone to begin with, whom everyone only-semi-affectionately described as boring.” I turn around. “Hey B, sorry for taking so long bud, you can take five if y—” Bastian’s gone before I can finish the sentence. “See?”
Meredil huffs. “If you’ve managed to obtain adventuring gear like that, you automatically have at least one interesting story, no? Likely many more than one."
“Oh, yeah. I have a ton of ‘em.”
“Then, I am interested to know how one could live an objectively interesting life and not be an objectively interesting person.”
“Well, I don’t remember most of my life—long story—but I could tell you a few tales about fighting dragons, or rescuing royalty?”
“Wait!” Meredil laughs. “You’re not just some adventurer, are you! You’re the Vestige of Coldharbour!” He grins wide. “Am I right?”
“Lots of adventurers fight dragons and rescue royalty. Right?” You’d think this conversation would get easier.
“Handfuls of people, but yes. But most of them have songs sung about them—you know them when you see them.” He makes a thinking face with his hand to his chin. “You stopped the Planemeld.”
I nod.
He stares at me for a few moments. “I’d assumed that when you won your soul back from Molag Bal, you’d gotten your memories back too… But, your memory begins when you became a hero?”
“Pretty much,” I say, smiling as I do when I’m reminded that strangers know details about my life from bard songs and rumors. Several moments of uncomfortable silence pass.
“So, those dragon-slaying and royalty-rescuing stories are the only ones you’ve got,” he says, meeting my eyes.
“Uh, yeah…” I sit down beside the fish pond. “And now I have a pretty good one about this place.” We share a pleasant laugh. “So… what do you think is interesting? I’ve got vampire lords, risky assassinations, multiple giant crabs… One time the ghost of a pirate turned me into a skeleton for a little while.”
He shakes his head. “I may spend my days in a place that could be mistaken for a mausoleum, cerum, but this tomb has books in it—I’ve read and catalogued all sorts of monster stories and political plots. Of course it is my honor to do so, but that has been much of my exposure to the world.” He sits down next to me. “But a perspective like yours, I don’t think I’d find in a book. Stumbling into an extraordinary life with no memory of an ordinary one. Learning about the world by saving it. Learning about people while constantly seeing them at their worst.” He smiles expectantly.
I just stare at him. “Ah, well…” No one says stuff like that to me. “I’ll be honest, I still don’t know what’s going on a lot of the time.”
“How would you? There are little children older than the length of your memory.”
Why have I never thought of that? “Most people ask about the ancient temples and Daedric demi-planes I’ve seen—or if they’re drunk, they ask how many famous people I’ve slept with.”
“Oh, I hate when I’m asked that question,” Meredil says dryly.
“People ask me about stuff they’ve heard I’ve done. I guess I’ve just always figured that means I’m not very interesting as a person? But honestly, it doesn’t bother me—I don’t have any memories to compare it to. And I can’t really blame people for asking about my adventures instead of asking about me—today was a fairly slow day for me, if that tells you anything.”
Meredil stares at me with a sad sort of look I can’t decipher.
“Um. I actually read a lot of books." Why am I lying to this mer? “Well, I skim some of them. But, uh… they’re a surprising amount of my exposure to the world, too.”
“You’re learning about statecraft and magic at the same time you’re learning, er… how to… socialize, make friends!" Meredil smiles at me, amused. "You’ve had to figure out the plots of Princes while you figure out how to navigate small talk.”
I nod slowly. “I have to ask a lot of stupid questions, but I’m learning.”
Meredil laughs. “Cerum, that is far more interesting than slaying dragons! And you wear armor fit for Auri-El himself!”
“Thank you,” I say, not knowing what else to say. “People don’t usually…” I trail off as I meet his eyes.
“Well, it’s wonderful to meet you," he says excitedly. "If not for that curse, I’d never have hit on the Vestige of Coldharbour, eh? Imagine! Ha! I can’t wait to write Mother. It is an honor to have flirted with you,” he says, bowing his head.
“Ha, I don’t know about that,” I say. “Flirting is one of those things I’ve had to learn along with slaying undead and such. I’m way better at re-killing liches. I mean, sorry, you were great at it, in my opinion—you’ve definitely read the books."
“I’m flattered that you appreciated my technique, ceruval. Those steamy books certainly increased my skill and potency, though; I could feel it. And the confidence they gave me…” He looks at me with a seductive grin. “Oh, imagine if you’d come upon me after I’d had a chance to read a bit more? I might be asking you a thousand fascinated personal questions with far fewer clothes, and from the comfort of a warm feather bed.” He looks away with faux innocence. “That offer is still good, of course.”
People say things like that to me all the time. I usually laugh and change the subject, but I find myself just staring at Meredil, trying to think of something funny to say. Why am I trying to think of something funny?
Meredil notices my lack of response, and hastily clears his throat. “Sorry,” he says, “the curse has been broken, but the downside of my particular variant is that its effects still very much remain, with no magic necessary.” He laughs nervously. “If you’ll excuse me, I must see to the situation.” He doesn’t move. “Uh, but… I can’t quite stand up just yet. You’ll need to walk away first, I’m afraid.”
I don’t move. “I realized something... interesting,” I say, after what feels like a very long pause. “I need to learn more about flirting and, uh, you know, all of that. I remember you saying you know where each and every one of those steamy books is filed. Don’t you?”
He stares at me in utter fear for just a moment, then says, quietly, “It would be my deep pleasure to guide your hand to them, of course. But I am in no state to assume I have taken your full meaning correctly, cerum. Tell me, am I being propositioned by the Vestige of Coldharbour?”
I panic a little—I wanted to read the steamy books; I wasn’t propositioning him. Was I? He was uncommonly kind to me… Was I? Guess I really don’t know anything about flirting. But… come to think of it, I do have several friends who can flirt their way into a bank vault or chieftain’s tent. What would they do? Razum-dar would instantly think of some wordplay that is simultaneously threatening, solicitous, and clever—I try to do that. First I shoot Meredil my best Jakarn eye-twinkle. “Hm, even if you are being propositioned by the Vestige of Coldharbour,” I say, with sultry Naryu nonchalance, “do you really think anyone would believe a story like that?” This marks the first time I have ever propositioned someone using that title, or any of my many titles. Feels slimy. Probably won’t try it again.
Luckily, Meredil is not put off. “Why assume I’m in it for the story?” he says. “Perhaps you’ll be the one telling the tale. Tales, preferably—especially after that curse, what I have to share could fill volumes, Vestige.”
We only get through one book, but it takes the rest of the day and evening. Meredil's feeling much better now, and he says I am welcome to return to Illumination Academy anytime I need more study. And it seems I’ve misjudged my dear friend Bastian Hallix: it turns out, Perspectives on First-Era Pastoralist Poetry is graphically sexually explicit and, in places, lyrically erotic. Interesting.
