MilksopDec 09, 2019Dec 09, 2019 at 08:10 AM
#1
Gonna start doing some short stories of various points in Estre's early life that will help give some backstory as to why she interacts with people the way she does! Hopefully it provides some insight into her character.
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Her small face smushed against the once pristine panes of the bay window that overlooked the cobblestoned streets of Skywatch, the young Altmer eagerly watched a trio of children try to keep an inflated pig’s bladder in the air without letting it touch the ground.
“Estre.”
Jolting, she scrambled from her window seat and onto the floor. Smudges of her face remaining on the panes. Standing at attention, the young mer rocked back and forth on the heels of her polished shoes.
“Estre.”
She stood still, silently pondering when he decided that her name was no longer just her name but his word of preference when telling her to cease with whatever it was that annoyed him at that current moment. Approaching the child, the robes of the lean mer dragged softly against the floor. The were of a fine material, certainly, but the once rich emerald green material had faded with age, small moth-bitten holes dotting the cuffs of the grand sleeves, the once polished, brassy buttons now dull in appearance. If she squinted, she could almost make out what they were when they were new. Clothing that belonged to a wealthy merchant at one time, certainly, now adorning the slight frame of the pale healer. They were much too big for him, seeming more robe than mer. Estre snickered.
Arching his brow, the older Altmer maintained a neutral expression. “Your hair, it’s a mess.” Furrowing her brow in slight confusion, she tugged lightly at one of the curls that framed her face. “This is how--” He cut her off, “it is a mess,” her curtly corrected her. Her frown grew. He was one to talk! His own pale blonde hair greasy and tied into a limp ponytail, at least her hair was clean.“Why haven’t you straightened it?” Hesitating, she looked to the side. “It’s Sundas? There’s no school, no one to see? I thought--” Clucking in disappointment, her father passed her, taking a seat on the threadbare cushions beneath the window. Motioning for her to take a seat, she reluctantly did so. “You thought wrong,” he gently chided, but chided he did. “You must get into the habit of it, straightening it each and every day. Soon it will come natural to you, you’ll detest this mess of tangled hair and love how prim and becoming straight hair looks on you. Like a proper Altmer,” he nodded in an all-knowing manner. Her gaze falling to her lap, the young girl anxiously knit her fingers together. Using his bony knuckle, he lifted her chin to make her look at him.
“I see more sun spots,” abruptly drawing back his hand, her head falling some in reaction. “You’re using the cream I gave you?” She nodded. “Thrice a day?” Another nod. He didn’t need to know that she emptied the remainder of that accursed, stinging cream beneath the white roses in the garden. She apologized to the flowers, hoping they wouldn’t mind the mess. The mer grumbled to himself, “we’ll have to try something else, irksome blemishes.” She frowned once more, “I … I don’t find them irksome, father. My teacher compliments--” Speaking above her reluctant words, “which one?” Shifting in her seat, “Miss Fayena.” The older mer just looked at her, feeling herself wilt under his sharp gaze. “Bosmer,” she corrected herself. With a bark of humorless laughter, she startled at the sudden noise that came from him. “Well of course a Bosmer would tell you that, what does she know! Sharp-toothed savages. They’re a coniving people, Estre, always looking to take advantage of others. They are not to be trusted.” Lower lip trembling, she raised her voice, “you say that about everyone!” She cried out, regretting her outburst just as quickly as it came. His own voice rising a smidge, “because this world is full of people eager to see you stumble and fall, people that wouldn’t think twice about taking advantage of you to lift themselves from the dredges of society if only to pull you down. The sooner you learn this, the easier life will be for you.”
Without another word on the matter, the slim mer stood. Roughly pulling the drapes closed, motes of dust flew from the aged fabric. “You shouldn’t be sitting in the sunlight like this, this is why those, those freckles keep multiplying.” Estre tried to swallow an aching lump in her throat, a few tears beginning to slip down her round cheeks. He groaned, snapping at her, “cease such dramatics! You’re no human, only humans cry like that. You don’t want to be thought of as human, do you?” She shook her head, her small frame wracked with hiccups. Disgusted with the display, he turned to the sanctuary of his study.
Pausing, his hand touched the heavy door to his office.
“And do straighten that hair before you come down for supper else I might lose my appetite. You don’t want me to starve, do you?”
She shook her head.
With a slight nod of his head, the door closed behind him. Waiting until she heard the familiar click of the lock, Estre quietly moved the drapes aside just enough to watch the world she longed to be a part of pass her by.
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Her small face smushed against the once pristine panes of the bay window that overlooked the cobblestoned streets of Skywatch, the young Altmer eagerly watched a trio of children try to keep an inflated pig’s bladder in the air without letting it touch the ground.
“Estre.”
Jolting, she scrambled from her window seat and onto the floor. Smudges of her face remaining on the panes. Standing at attention, the young mer rocked back and forth on the heels of her polished shoes.
“Estre.”
She stood still, silently pondering when he decided that her name was no longer just her name but his word of preference when telling her to cease with whatever it was that annoyed him at that current moment. Approaching the child, the robes of the lean mer dragged softly against the floor. The were of a fine material, certainly, but the once rich emerald green material had faded with age, small moth-bitten holes dotting the cuffs of the grand sleeves, the once polished, brassy buttons now dull in appearance. If she squinted, she could almost make out what they were when they were new. Clothing that belonged to a wealthy merchant at one time, certainly, now adorning the slight frame of the pale healer. They were much too big for him, seeming more robe than mer. Estre snickered.
Arching his brow, the older Altmer maintained a neutral expression. “Your hair, it’s a mess.” Furrowing her brow in slight confusion, she tugged lightly at one of the curls that framed her face. “This is how--” He cut her off, “it is a mess,” her curtly corrected her. Her frown grew. He was one to talk! His own pale blonde hair greasy and tied into a limp ponytail, at least her hair was clean.“Why haven’t you straightened it?” Hesitating, she looked to the side. “It’s Sundas? There’s no school, no one to see? I thought--” Clucking in disappointment, her father passed her, taking a seat on the threadbare cushions beneath the window. Motioning for her to take a seat, she reluctantly did so. “You thought wrong,” he gently chided, but chided he did. “You must get into the habit of it, straightening it each and every day. Soon it will come natural to you, you’ll detest this mess of tangled hair and love how prim and becoming straight hair looks on you. Like a proper Altmer,” he nodded in an all-knowing manner. Her gaze falling to her lap, the young girl anxiously knit her fingers together. Using his bony knuckle, he lifted her chin to make her look at him.
“I see more sun spots,” abruptly drawing back his hand, her head falling some in reaction. “You’re using the cream I gave you?” She nodded. “Thrice a day?” Another nod. He didn’t need to know that she emptied the remainder of that accursed, stinging cream beneath the white roses in the garden. She apologized to the flowers, hoping they wouldn’t mind the mess. The mer grumbled to himself, “we’ll have to try something else, irksome blemishes.” She frowned once more, “I … I don’t find them irksome, father. My teacher compliments--” Speaking above her reluctant words, “which one?” Shifting in her seat, “Miss Fayena.” The older mer just looked at her, feeling herself wilt under his sharp gaze. “Bosmer,” she corrected herself. With a bark of humorless laughter, she startled at the sudden noise that came from him. “Well of course a Bosmer would tell you that, what does she know! Sharp-toothed savages. They’re a coniving people, Estre, always looking to take advantage of others. They are not to be trusted.” Lower lip trembling, she raised her voice, “you say that about everyone!” She cried out, regretting her outburst just as quickly as it came. His own voice rising a smidge, “because this world is full of people eager to see you stumble and fall, people that wouldn’t think twice about taking advantage of you to lift themselves from the dredges of society if only to pull you down. The sooner you learn this, the easier life will be for you.”
Without another word on the matter, the slim mer stood. Roughly pulling the drapes closed, motes of dust flew from the aged fabric. “You shouldn’t be sitting in the sunlight like this, this is why those, those freckles keep multiplying.” Estre tried to swallow an aching lump in her throat, a few tears beginning to slip down her round cheeks. He groaned, snapping at her, “cease such dramatics! You’re no human, only humans cry like that. You don’t want to be thought of as human, do you?” She shook her head, her small frame wracked with hiccups. Disgusted with the display, he turned to the sanctuary of his study.
Pausing, his hand touched the heavy door to his office.
“And do straighten that hair before you come down for supper else I might lose my appetite. You don’t want me to starve, do you?”
She shook her head.
With a slight nod of his head, the door closed behind him. Waiting until she heard the familiar click of the lock, Estre quietly moved the drapes aside just enough to watch the world she longed to be a part of pass her by.