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Seeking Perfection X

Started by Idriar
Post #86934

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Faction & Race:
Aldmeri Dominion (Altmer)
Seeking Perfection

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Andarcya lay on her silken berth and stared at the ceiling. She had closed the bull´s-eyes and covered them with curtains but still the light of the harbour shone through the fabric, litting up her cabin and preventing her from falling asleep. But even in perfect darkness she wouldn´t have been able to find any sleep. The bed was not her own and as soon as she closed her eyes a thousand visions and ideas floated her mind. Faith, hope and confidence mixed with question, doubt and fear into weird dreams, though she was awake. She sighed and turned her head to a hourglass. Five hours left to sunrise. Sighing again she turned her head back to the ceiling. She had to sleep. She had to get up early tomorrow and make her last preperations for the yourney. She did not dare to imagine the shipping leaving without while she was still buying a new attirement. She closed her eyes and begged the god-ancestors for sleep.

What was she doing here? Rushing away from the Blessed Isles, her beloved home, into a strange, weird and unknown place? Everything she was ever told of Tam-Riel´s main continent... was highly disturbing. A place of greatest suffer and disorder. Lorkhanic and Daedric forces raged unbound over the whole land, not to speak of the continent´s inhabitants: primitive and ill-natured men, fallen mer, Bosmer, Dunmer and the abominable Orsimer all alike, and the weird Betmer, more beast than men or mer.

No! She was not allowed to fear the unknown, for her poor father, Ruwenmar, already had to face this place most dire! It was hers to find him, save him! She would not rest, she would not fail, until she was united with her father again!

But... what could she hope to find out there? Behind the dark, chaotic sea?

Her father? Of course. An insane heretic? ...

She couldn´t ignore this fact. It was her father´s own fault. Exile and banishment was a lenient sentence compared to the gravity of his crimes... they had informed Andarcya about the insanity and heresy her father had been spreading in puplic. She was still incapable to believe that her father uttered such... she had no words to describe her disgust and frustration.

And if she ever found him... what was she supposed to do? She wouldn´t be able to return to Sumursent with him. Healing his heresy and his insanity? Andarcya was neither a priest nor a healer. She wouldn´t be able to free her father from his sufferings.

But now he was in Tam-Riel... no Altmer did deserve such, even if he was a heretic. Andarcya anathematised herself. She should have accepted the Palace of Justice´s offer, of visiting her father´s cell. And ending his heresy and his life alike. This would have been an act of mercy compared to the nameless terror he now was confronted with, living outside the Blessed Isles, a fate worse than death.

But... this was odd. No one meant anything to her, but her father. She could have never raised a weapon or spell against him...

Her father was important to her, far beyond reasonable meassurement. She rated the inviolacy of his person higher than the inviolacy of law, his life over her own... was she normal?

This... odd relation to her father obviously accrued from her upbringing.

Ruwenmar always had been a little... eccentric. After Andarcya´s mother died giving birth to her, her father spent two hundred years as bachelor, ignoring countless overtures, even of high ranked Altmera nobles. Andarcya could have had dozens of siblings... counted only those who would have passed the nativity appraisement.

And his drawings... His drawings of this Golden Saint. Always the same. Always the very same individual. At first Ruwenmar showed it, the monster, as the vile creature, that the Deadra was: an evil and has-to-be-hated being, a stranger to this plane. But over the years... his paintings changed. The Daedra... turned less intimidating, less evil. From fearsome to strict, from strict to fair. Until Ruwenmar showed himself, courting the Golden Saint, which was now a beautiful woman, on his knees with lute and songs.

Rumous were spread... about Ruwenmar having traveled to the Shivering Isles, the damned realm of Sheogorath, the Daedric Prince of insanity. Her father was said... to have received his drawing and painting skills there, the ability to craft such beautiful artworks and weapons. That he walked the land of Mania, finally meeting a Golden Saint, he fell in love with... resulting in Andarcya´s birth...

Lies! Nothing but lies. Such was impossible, unthinkable. Against the earthbones` laws known to mer and men. Such a thing was not within the patterns of possibility.

But Andarcay´s strange shaped eyes and the absence of her mother made her to a perfect aim of mockery and bullying...

Andarcya could hear her peers again, calling her in her dreams. Those brats of sixty, seventy years. In her mind she was a little child again, blurred visions of her harrassers in front of her eyes. Tears ran down her face, burning hot on Andarcya´s face and the little girl´s face in her memory. She clenched her little fists, her large fists. She beated them, broke them, made them bleed. They would cry. She would cry. But they would not stop to tease her. They never did. Not even...

The voices... they still did haunt her!

"Golden Saint!"


This is not true! Nothing but lies! My mother is an Altmer just like me and you!

"Where´s your mother then?"

My mother is dead. She now walks the planes of Aetherius!



I´m a mortal just like you! Why don´t you just shut up? Leave me alone!

"Half-breed! Half-breed! Half-breed!"


It was her father´s fault. Everything.


Andarcya shut her eyes open. Bolt upright she sat in her berth, the tattered silken blanket wrapped around her body, soaked in sweat and breathing heavily. Her grey overall like leotard uniform she usually wore under her armor, that she had worn in the night in lack of a nightgown, was soaked and creased. She had woken up. From what? She looked to the bull´s-eyes. Still light shone threw them and the curtains, but not as bright anymore. Andarcya knew that this was not the artificial night light, these were the rays of Magnus, Aetherius, lessened by clouds.

Trying to calm her breath and heart, her eyes fell on the hourglass. Four hours after sunrise. Materialism, it was late! Hastily she got out of bed and entered the wet unit. The small room lay dark as she opened the door. Activating the soulgem based lamp Andarcya turned to the mirror. And froze.

This had been a bad night.

She looked terrible. Her white-blonde her fell dishevelled over her shoulders, her skin was not gold, it was just dull, and her eyes...

Those ugly, terrible eyes stared at her. For a moment she believed to see a stranger. But it was her, just her. These... flaws. Her only flaws. She slowly raised her hand and touched the mirror gently, griefly. Why couldn´t she be flawless, like it was expected from her? Why wasn´t such an outrageous flaw outsorted at birth? Why did she have to suffer from this flaw now, the rumours, the mockery?

Quickly she looked away. These eyes... Since Andarcya had been a little child she had been teased for them. And even now, as adult, she lived in neverending fear of somebody to again start teasing her out of the sudden.

Andarcya thought back to the buxom little Bosmer woman from yesterday. And how she had reacted when she was called a Golden Saint. After so many years... she still tried to beat her bullies up to make the shut up. But she wasn´t a little girl anymore. She wielded a golden sword now, Twin Doves crafted by her father, a deadly weapon and was a trained warrioress. Furthermore the Bosmer didn´t know her. And surely she wasn´t about to mock or tease her. Nearly Andarcya ended her life... just by the accident that the Bosmer mistook her for a...

Andarcya raised her head and looked into the mirror, right into those strange shaped eyes, stareing back at her. She had to face the truth. These eyes... really made her look like... something else but an Altmer. Yes, maybe a Golden Saint, a Daedra. But her behaviour was unacceptable. The continent was full of Bosmer and Khajiit and many other, even more inferior creatures. If she travelled Tam-Riel, she would meet strangers. Many strangers. People who did not know her. People who would mistake her for a Golden Saint...

She couldn´t react with a fit of rage every single time. Somehow... she had to overcome this behaviour. She would not allow her eyes, her fear and her anger to control her like that. Not anymore. Now that she knew what could happen, she would do everything to prevent it from happening. For the sake of order and the search of her father. She just didn´t know how to do this, yet...

Well, now she had other things to do. She would have to leave the ship and buy everything she needed for her yourney. But before that she would have to give herself a passably appearance. Andarcya sighed and threw a palmful of water into her face.
This post was last modified: August 22nd 2013, 03:42 AM by Idriar

Who controls the Septim crown?
Who keeps the Allesian Heresy down?
We do, we do

Who knocked Yokuda off the maps?
Who keeps the Dwemer under wraps?
We do, we do

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