This story is about my Hero of Kvatch and revolves around the events that will lead to the Oblivion Crisis and Shivering Isles.
Illent Irvine also known as Illent of Solstheim travels to Tamriel after she goes through a traumatic event in order to r...
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3E 431, Solstheim.
It has been two weeks since the incident. Illent has gotten a bit better from her ordeal but is far from mentally unscathed. Being alone with men scares here and physical contact in some places sets her off. She also keeps having what can best be described as flashbacks and night terrors.
The Thirsk warriors apologized for what their men did but a simple sorry doesn't cut it. You can't just make a terrible situation go away just by speaking fickle and empty words. That's not how reality works.
Illent's been holding up in her room for most of her recovery. Not daring to go outside. Too many people wanting to know if she's alright or to chastise her for not fighting back. Or some are simply scared of her for what she did to those three men. Those three bastards.
By the off chance she was impregnated she was made to drink a concoction made from some type of leaf. If she was pregnant then blood from her womb would leak out of her. If she wasn't then nothing would happen. Thankfully nothing happened. She didn't need more trauma to add to what she went through.
Today however Illent sits in-front of a tarnished and old looking mirror. She propped it up against the wall on the table so she doesn't have to hold it. She has sat there for at least two hours just staring at her body. Her body has always been slow to heal and the bruises and scrapes are still visible. But that's not what reminds her of the ordeal. No. What reminds her of it is her long mane-like hair. As she sits on the stool her hair graces the ground.
Staring in shame and in sorrow she grabs a fistful of hair where he grabbed at and occasionally the other men. Whenever she would come to before they knocked her out again they would be tugging on her locks.
She shall make sure no one can grab her like that again. Illent looks around and her eyes fall onto a pair of shears used for cutting animal furs. She reaches over with her long arms and grabs the shears. Her mother will be upset with this but what she does with her hair is not her decision to make. Her bloody waterfall of hair shall be no more.
She grabs thick locks of her hair and begins cutting. She doesn't care if it's uneven and too short by women's standards. She simply wishes to make it hard for people to grab her. With her height combined with the shortness, it will be quite the challenge.
After about an hour of butchering her hair it finally all falls around the stool on which she sits. Illent looks back up at herself in the mirror and has mixed emotions. She likes the change but also fears she's too manly now. She'll be teased more. Or she won't. It just depends. If she travels away people won't know her and she could pass off as male probably. She doesn't know. That's too much thinking for her at the moment. Thinking too much as of late tires her out.
Behind her, she hears creaking floorboards. Her head lazily drifts behind her. Her mother, Teya is standing at the edge of the doorless room. Her eyes show sorrow and pity. "You had such lovely hair." She's on the verge of tears.
Illent doesn't even bother to give her a response. She just looks back at the table and observes the intricate carvings in the wood.
She can hear her mother meekly shuffle behind her. Teya's long brown side-braid grazes her daughter's back and right shoulder as she stands behind her. Illent stiffens but then relaxes as her mother rests her hands on her shoulders in a soothing manner.
"Your father wishes to speak to you Illent. He's in the longhouse preparing to do a ritual. Don't keep him waiting." Teya speaks in a soft voice. Illent gives a disinterested sigh.
"Really mama? Is that all? To chastise me about my hair and then tell me to see my father? No how are you feeling? No is everything doing better? No? Nothing at all? I swear you have the emotional scale of a beaten dog." Illent stands up and gently pushes her mother back.
Teya stares at Illent with the look of disapproval. Her daughter has never been the one for social norms but she must conform to them eventually. "I didn't ask because judging by your display you aren't doing fine. There's no need to ask when it's obvious."
Illent turns to her mother once more slightly angry. "It still feels good to ask. It helps me realize people still care about me. All you and father have done since I was tossed around like some Dunmer whore was talk to me a few times and leave me alone for the rest of it! Mama, you traipse around like a doormat all the damn time and never speak or even act for yourself. You can't even be bothered to look after me because you were taught to keep appearances. So far you've only given me a special tea to drink and that's it. So much for you being my mother, you don't even act like it! You're so useless and then you try to teach me to be as useless as you because that's what proper ladies do! Well, guess what mama! We're Skaal! Not Nords from Skyrim or Bruma!"
Illent then stops to realize all that she just let out. Most of it doesn't make sense but she feels relief from getting it all out. She sighs once more and leans her back against the table and rubs her hands against her face. Teya just stands there dumbfounded at the audacity of her daughter.
"I'm... I'm sorry mama. I should get going now." Illent grabs a Skaal coat and heads outside after she puts it on.
