#ulenea

[shadows-of-almsivi]

[ For the snapshot meme: Teenage Morry + scrib! <3 ]

“Oh, you littledarling…!”

Ulenea paused, rubbedthe bridge of her nose. “Mori, no.”

“Look at itslittle tail, though! It likes me!”

“Leave it alone,Mori– Oh, Three’s sakes, put it down.”

Moraelyn pouted alittle, a chirring scrib hugged against his oversized tunic like astuffed doll. “But it’s so cute… It’s only small…”

Ulenea fought a smile;her lanky little thirdborn hadn’t quite outgrown all trace ofchildhood. “Lords, it’s just like when you were a grub. Give itback, come on.”

The scrib’s legs wavedin the air, clearly quite anxious at being off the ground. Moraelynmoaned in protest but grudgingly did as he was asked, setting thelittle creature back into the marketeer’s scrib-pen alongside itsskittering, thumping clutchmates. “What do you mean?” heasked, sullen but curious, waving goodbye to the scribs as theywalked away. “What did I do when I was little?”

“You don’tremember?” Ulenea shrugged. “Well, I suppose you were onlysmall, after all. I think you were four… It was when your brothershad first gone off to Temple lessons in Ald'Ruhn for the summer.”

Moraelyn shrugged,kicking a stray pebble down an alleyway. It hit a planter-pot, makingthe scraggly trama branches shudder. “I think I remember themleaving. Not much, though. I remember being sad, that’s all.”

“Yes. Gods, yes,you were.” Ulenea’s eyes took on a distant, staring look, awarrior’s reverie. “You all but howled the house down. And whenyou tired of crying, you grew bored…” She cut eyestowards her thirdborn, a little humour to the curve of her mouth.“The greatest horror of my life without your brothers around.”

“How come?”Moraelyn bent to pluck up a feather, fidgeting with it as helistened, doing a poor job of feigning inattention.

Ulenea chuckled.“Because, sweetling, you were liable to find something to do.Like find Father’s inkwell and draw all over the walls near theWaiting Door with it.” And everything else, Ulenea added toherself. Ink all over the carpets, tiny black footprints all throughthe house; her little thirdborn up on the dining table, chubby handsblack-stained like a miniature Mephala, reaching for hidden treats onthe high shelves. “Or, more to the point, the scribincidents…”

Moraelyn frowned,ruffling the feather in his fingers and straightening it out again.“So I drew scribs on things?”

She shook her head.“Family portraits, actually. And guar. But no, no, a completelydifferent thing… These were real scribs. There was aneighbour who kept some to feed up. I’d put you down for a nap, orlet you play in the courtyard for a moment, and by the time Ireturned to check on you, you’d be lugging a fat little scrib aroundand trying to hide it in your room amongst your toys.”

Moraelyn tucked thefeather into his pocket, to take home for his collection. “Why did I do that?”

“Just missing yourbrothers’ company, I expect. You’d never been separated from them forso long before. Your father thought a pet of your own might settleyou down, or at least stop you from rustling the neighbour’slivestock.” (This was not precisely what had been said, ofcourse, not in so many words; Ulenea fought down a smile at thememory of her poor, weary Sadaryn lying awake beside her in the dark,woken yet again by the drumming and chirping of startled scribs,begging her in gravelly, defeated whispers. “Ule… Ule, please.Make it stop. Get the little thief a houndlet or something. I can’tarrest an infant.”) “And it just so happened, Melvura– youremember Sedura Arenim, don’t you?”

“From HouseRedoran’s census gathering,” Moraelyn nodded. He twisted at thehem of his tunic, his eyes trained studiously downward, trying tohide a faint blush. “With the fancy red hair. She’s reallynice.”

“Mm. That she is.”Ulenea’s smile turned private for a moment. A golden summer eveningcame to mind: fine tea sets, music, pieces of bonemold left scatteredon a divan. Long red hair in elaborate braids, unwoven one by onewith great pleasure. Ah, to be a bold, young Ald'Ruhn bravo again…“Well, Melvura bred nix-hounds, just the finest creatures youcould imagine. I suppose she might breed them still. One of her nixhad dropped a brood, she was quite happy to help us…”

Moraelyn brightened,eartips twitching in the afternoon sun. “Is that where Aket camefrom?”

“Indeed, it is.The best of the litter. You stopped sulking immediately when I setAket down and let it run to you. You simply could not stop huggingthat little beast… And Aket loved you on sight, I’m sure, if a nixcan feel love. Wouldn’t let you out of its sight. Your father had amind to lay down the law, you know,” she added. affecting herhusband’s forbidding rasp, “ ’Animals have no place in thehouse’…” She shrugged as they turned the corner, tucking astray lock of escaped hair behind her ear. “But he relented soquickly. You cut such a darling figure together, he didn’t have theheart to really mean it.”

Moraelyn glanced slylyback towards the market, where the scrib-tender was closing one ofhis brood into a little wooden crate for an Argonian customer, whoheld a scrawled shopping list before her like a talisman. “Andthat was such a long time ago now…”

“Ah, ah, ah.No scribs. He’s deathly serious about that. He stillwakes in the night at times, swearing he heard one.“ She eyedhim hard, more-or-less serious. “Don’t antagonise your father.Be happy with Aket.”

“Yes, Mother.” His deflation wasalmost comically swift. 

She slipped a couple of coppers from herbeltpurse, tucking the gleaming coins into his pocket and between hisfingers. “Here,” she relented, “spoiled littlelonghair. Go run down to the docks and fetch some of those driedfish, the peppered ones. See if any of the trader junks have come upfrom Mournhold, hm? They might have some new books for you.”

His entire demeanourchanged with a speed to make any actor blush. His mouth twitched,fighting the urge to spread into a broad and childish grin. He noddedquick and tight, half a step towards the river. “Thank you!”His hand hastily brushed her forearm, as good as a kiss to the cheekfor the purposes of public streets, and he was gone, sandals strikingclay and stone.

Ulenea chuckled,turning towards home. Moraelyn would be back before nightfall, but towait was a foolish idea, particularly if he happened to find too manyenticing books at once and settled in to read a few. Time enough to relax a while, perhaps pour a draught of that crisp, sharp shein her brother had sentsouth for her…

[shadows-of-almsivi]

Redoran rules Indoril drools!

If you mean to insult me, I don’t mean to laugh– All right, I do, but… You speak as if you’re the perfect reincarnation of my uncle Endalyn, if he were a very small child. The image won’t leave my head now. Ayyeh, hah, heh… Have you ever imagined a Dunmer child, about so high, wearing full Redoran armour? Trying to wield steel larger than he is? I am certain that is how Endalyn was as a child. I can’t imagine there was a day of his life that he did not spend in bonemold.

Ah, he truly did hate the idea of his sister with a House Indoril mer. Or anyone outside of Redoran, really. Or within it. No one was ever good enough for her, and I daresay he was likely correct, but he took umbrage with Father quite specifically. Mother always took great pleasure in reminiscing over how she’d blacked his eye and cracked his tooth for it. He came around, in the end. Mother has that effect on people, when it’s clear she’s determined. And at least it wasn’t a Telvanni she wed, though Mother would never have cast her eye anywhere near that House with any intent short of murder.

No, Mother had her eye set firmly on her Ordinator, and set herself to snaring him. Marrying out of her House, of course, wasn’t a simple matter regardless. I do not know how much you recall of Vvardenfell and of the customs of the Third Era, if you are indeed old enough to have known them at all, but leaving your House… It simply wasn’t done. You could never enter into another House, not even by marriage. No other House would even touch you, which means that hardly anyone at all would go near you either, at least no one of any consequence. You could well starve to death as an outcast Hlaalu in Balmora, I remember that distinctly. Even your own family line would likely sever you, expunge you from the family records and shut you out of the Ancestral tombs, nevermore a child of theirs. Expulsion from your House, in effect, was literal and eternal exile.

But Mother has ever been a determined mer, and sharp in every way there is. She’d simply find a way to enter House Indoril with her honour intact. Her status within House Redoran was well-deserved after so many years serving the Guard, and her commanding background made certain she was well aware of the history of alliance and mutual support between House Redoran and Indoril. And Father being quite accomplished in his own right by that point, doing rather well for himself within the Order of the Inquisition, he was not exactly a poor choice, if one may be said to ever choose one’s loves.

I say often that my speechcraft is honed by gods, but I admit also that I hope at least a little comes from my mother. She made a suggestion to the Redoran Councillors, a diplomatically-arranged marriage to cement House ties to Indoril. Once they’d agreed to this clever idea, she was tasked with selecting a likely candidate and sending forth missives to House Indoril’s representatives.It needed to be someone of relatively high standing within their respective Houses, high enough to be worth something, but not so high as to jeopardise the limited number of eligible noblemer. 

So, of course, she sent a letter to her paramour to tell him to pack his things, volunteered herself, and had half the marriage already arranged before Redoran could even breath in surprise. 

There were arguments within the Thavas family line for years, I heard, most ending in the traditional Redoran debate method: armed combat. Still, by all House laws, Ulenea Thavas was still considered Indoril only by marriage, and was still very much of Redoran blood. This was proved many times, until stubborn mer found sense enough to stop making her bleed them to prove her point. She won her husband, the Thavas line kept their daughter (no matter how confused and frustrated she made them), and even Uncle Endalyn eventually warmed to Father ever so slightly. At least enough. He was always fonder of we children than of our father, noting often how we took after our mother in quite pointed ways. 

Although once, on the night of my twenty-seventh birthday, while we were sitting by the riverside and both quite deep into our greef, I remember him slurring muttered praise for my father. Just the once. Stubborn old alit…

…Lords, I miss my uncle. It hurts me, to think of him as he is…

[shadows-of-almsivi]

"Dear Mom", for the meme! :)

Dear Mother,

I pray each morning that you still live. It has been so very long since I last heard your voice that I become afraid that I will forget its sound. Some mornings, I do not quite recall my own sister’s face; I can never, however, forget yours. It looks at me too often from the mirror. There are days when the resemblance is so strong that I cannot bear to look upon myself.

I know in my heart that I have not done you proud. In my nightmares, you turn me away, and spit on my name as I leave. I weep far too often, now, to be any child of yours, and my hands are dredged in more blood than I have any right to have spilled.

I have wanted much in this life I’ve dragged myself through without you, but nothing so much as to see you again. I pray that one day we may meet once more, though I do not know what I will be able to say to you should that day ever come. You did not raise this monster; I did this to myself, and I would never allow you to come to blame for the atrocities I have committed.

Forgive your wayward thirdborn. Send my love to my brothers and sister, and hold Father for me. Three willing, I will return to you someday.

With all the love yet in me,

Mori.

[shadows-of-almsivi]

Time Warp Tuesday] /bows head/ "Forgive the intrusion sera, but you don't happen to do business with my House do you? My Master wishes to know these things for a business proposition."

If it’s about those tunics Serjo Dres What’s-His-Face ordered, I don’t know what to tell you. I told him that cliffracer plumes won’t survive gilding, but would he listen? And just where am I supposed to find black Khajiit hair in that quantity at this time of year?

Hmph. Well, I suppose that’s clearly not your Master or else he would already know, wouldn’t he. Yes, yes, if Dres has the coin for it. Which isn’t guaranteed, I can tell you. Honestly, I know I'm definitely not cheap, but you’d expect a House like Dres to know how to manage their coffers better. At least with Hlaalu mer I know I’ll be paid on time. Or at all.

[shadows-of-almsivi]

(Timewarp Tuesday) Ulenea, do you see yourself in any of your children?

Oh yes, always. For better and worse, I suppose. I mean, Aruvem’s a handful but I can’t pretend that she doesn’t get that from me. Ralias’ temper has more of his father to it, but his smile is all mine, and the curve of his ears. Drerrin... Goodness knows, really. I’m sure I was never so reckless. He did get my hair, though; the others all have that pin-straight Ithren hair. I used to try and curl Mori’s hair when he had his first name, before we knew, but it would never take unless it was about to rain; when the air’s damp, though, you’d never know he wasn’t a full-blood Thavas. It maddens him to no end in the wet season.

I’d say I can see most of myself in Mori, really. My eyes, my cheekbones, my blade arm, my temper. He has the Indoril piety, always has since he was a child, but the way he pursues it is more Redoran than anything. He has that kind of fierceness to him, about anything that fascinates him. It took some time to convince him that sewing for fashion was a useful thing, but once it took, it really took. You should see some of the needlework he’s done.

[shadows-of-almsivi]

Sedura Ulenea, I've been hearing very strange rumours about your daughter-son and that dusty freedcat who lives on the rooftop. There have been noises, Sedura, /noises/.

Ah, what nice manners you--

...I’m sure you must be mistaken, sera. My Moraelyn used to know him as a child, but he hasn’t spoken to him in quite some time, surely it must be someone else. 

He wouldn’t dare... 

You know how these strays are, yowling all hours of the night, keeping decent mer awake. Leave the matter with me, hm? Think no more of it, I’ll sort this out myself.

--Ah-hah, no. No, you don’t understand. I insist. And so does this. And if you don’t want this putting bloody holes in that nice tunic, you’ll think nothing more about this. 

Am. I. Clear?

Good. Now, I have a family discussion to attend to.

[shadows-of-almsivi]

Time Warp: "Impressive sera, no doubt you do your House Proud"

Indeed I did. So much so, that I had to marry into another House just to make it fair on the other Redoran.

Oh, I know you must think it an awful step down, from a soldier to a clothier. But honestly, look at me; have you ever seen a finer outfit than this? 

I miss a lot of things about soldier life, but a roughcloth uniform and a stiff back from sleeping in the ash are definitely not among them. Leave me to my warm, soft bed, my warm, soft husband, and my fabulous clothes, thank you very much.

[shadows-of-almsivi]

(twt) Ulenea, how did you raise such well-rounded children?

Primarily by letting the eldest care for the youngest. Oh, I know how that sounds, but trust me, a mother needs her space. The best parents know not to hover. Just give them firm guidance, listen to them, make sure you take notice of their interests and teach them anything they want to know. The rest, well, my older children remember youth and its trials a lot better than I do.

Drerrin, my eldest, he was an utter terror. No elder siblings to keep him in line, no younger ones to play with. Thank Vehk for that drunken tumble that left me carrying sweet little Ralias, or else I’m sure our house would have been torn to shreds. Bored children are such a trial, especially when they have the knack for trouble like Drerrin. Who knew a toddler would have an aptitude for lockpicking?

And then once they were getting into their Temple lessons-- you know, that age-- I had Moraelyn, and they just adored him. Kept them out of getting into too much trouble, and kept me from a head of silver. I’d taught the boys their swordcraft, and they taught him, and he taught Aruvem once she was old enough to hold her first blade-- oh, Moraelyn dotes so much on his little sister, it’s sweet really. Wild little hellion that she is.

And this is how you avoid having a house entirely too filled with the screams of infants. I love my children, of course I do, but who could stand always having four growing young mer underfoot at once? No, no, we learned well enough with Drerrin that one at a time is plenty, thank you very much.