The Longest Road – Ch. 1 – 1: These Dreams

• Posted by Kyrielle Atrinati January 3, 2013 - 383 views

  I woke up next to a man whose name I couldn't remember.  This wasn't the first occurrence of this particular event, but I did not wake up in this manner as often as rumors suggested.  Glancing over at him, I watched his scarred visage crumple and reform as he slept and dreamed his savage dreams--or whatever dreams came to so beastly a man.  When he stirred, I feigned sleep, not wanting to further the bruises he'd applied to my slight form during our night together.  Dimly, I heard him don his molded, wolven armor, stomping rudely across my floor as he left.

  

  "Witch indeed," he scoffed under his breath.  The door clapped shut behind him.  Outside, Meeko growled, and to my everlasting dismay, the man growled back.

  "This is how far you've fallen," I murmured towards the ceiling, watching dust motes float in the light from the windows.  My transgressions transcended beyond merely sleeping with strange men out of a misplaced need for comfort and intimacy.  I built the house I was currently brooding in.  I cut the trees and laid the tile, shaped the wood, sheared the hay.  Of course, I had paid assistance from Falkreath locals, who were only glad to help a Bosmer floating in Septims from a military operation that left her more empty than a beggar's coffers.  Not that I was bitter.  

  When the house had been built, I lay sick in bed for weeks for reasons I still cannot fathom.  Once I was well, I decided to try my first apple.  I was nervous, but it looked so clean and delicious.  Cramps plagued me for several hours after the first bite, and the tiles on my roof quite suddenly cracked in several places letting the pouring rain onto my bed, which moldered before I could replace the hay.  Since then, I avoided vegetables and building wooden structures, fearing some other nameless event might occur should I attempt to break the Green Pact any further.  Though, I felt it was pointless to follow such rituals if Y'ffre ripped me free from his embrace to dangle helplessly over a terrible void created by his absence and the absence of--

  

  I couldn't bear to think of his name still.  

  With a sigh, I slowly sat up in bed, holding my face in my hands and wishing I could take it back.  I would have rather destroyed the universe if it meant I didn't have to endure this nightmare.  Not even my work with the Thalmor assuaged this pain, and I suspected it was because of my continued lack of enthusiasm for my assignments that they dismissed me.  Turning, I noticed a book laying on the end table near the door that hadn't been there before.  I supposed the wolfish man left it, and fingering the pages, I idly moved to the small table on the opposite side of the room.

  As I ate a little dried venison, I glanced through the book.  Palla Volume 1 was the title, and as I read the first half of the story, I wondered if I had perhaps misjudged the brutish nature of the man who visited me in the night.  Love and necromancy.  That did sum up my current research rather accurately, though I had no intention of resurrecting anyone using normal conjuration methods.

  "Conjuration requires you to invest your soul into each summon."  Falion had a point.  How could I conjure anything with such a weakened soul?  I could no longer call a sabre cat anymore than I could call a wolf.  Or even a baby rabbit.  Snatching a quill and inkwell from the shelf behind me, I drafted a letter to a necromancer living nearby.  Not that I hoped to learn anything new from her, but we did share a common interest in the nature of souls.  Perhaps she would have an interesting opinion on the tale told in the book, and as I sealed the letter with a bit of wax, I heard a pounding on the door.

  "Oh no, please don't tell me he's come back for his book..."  I groaned, then, after a moment of thought, "Please tell me that's all he's come back for."

  With trepidation, I stepped toward the door as the pounding increased.

  "Open up!" cried a voice.  "We know you're in there!"  It was female, not male.  Then, the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end as heard Meeko yelp as if struck.  Suddenly, the pounding stopped and I heard muffled discussion among several people on the other side of the door.

  "What should we do?" spoke the woman.

  "Break the door down, what do you think," rumbled a voice, this one male.

  "You're the leader of this mission, Beleval, you decide."

  "We'll wait for her to come out."

  "Do we even know if she's what we're looking for?"

  "Of course, haven't you heard the stories?  All the women in town are crowing over this monster."

  "Shh.  I hear something."  The voices lowered into hissing whispers.

  Monster?  Against my better judgement, I reached out and opened the door.  It creaked a little on the hinges, and I made a mental note to oil the iron later in the day.

  "What's the meaning of this--" I began, but something latched onto my ankle and yanked painfully.  With a yelp, I crashed to the ground and found myself staring up at a bright morning sky.