About Teleri ver RhosynStat Block:
Teleri ver Rhosyn
Female half-elf sorcerer 3 LG Medium humanoid (elf, human) Init +1; Senses low-light vision; Perception +7 -------------------- Defense -------------------- AC 11, touch 11, flat-footed 10 (+1 Dex) hp 23 (3d6+9) Fort +3, Ref +2, Will +3; +2 vs. enchantments Immune sleep -------------------- Offense -------------------- Speed 30 ft. Melee dagger +2 (1d4-1/19-20) or . . handaxe -2 (1d6-1/×3) or . . light mace +2 (1d6-1) Bloodline Spell-Like Abilities (CL 3rd; concentration +7) . . 7/day—laughing touch Sorcerer Spells Known (CL 3rd; concentration +7) . . 1st (6/day)—entangle (DC 15), sleep (DC 17), sow thought[ARG] (DC 17) . . 0 (at will)—acid splash, detect magic, light, mage hand, prestidigitation . . Bloodline Fey -------------------- Statistics -------------------- Str 9, Dex 13, Con 14, Int 14, Wis 10, Cha 19 Base Atk +1; CMB +2; CMD 11 Feats Agile Maneuvers, Combat Expertise, Deadly Aim, Eschew Materials, Fast Learner[ARG], Power Attack, Quick Cast, Silent Spell, Skill Focus (Sense Motive) Traits extremely fashionable, influence Skills
Racial Modifiers +2 Perception Languages Common, Dwarven, Elven, Sylvan SQ bloodline arcana (+2 DC for compulsion spells), elf blood, finesse weapon attack attribute, woodland stride
Rhosyn ver Owain backstory:
Deep in the mountains, far from Dinas Diwydiant, lies the the small village of Glynffridd, nestled between two spurs of Mynydd Duon ("Blackmount"). The villagers there live simple lives, tending their fields and flocks. They drink sweet mead brewed from the golden honey their hives produce from the heather that blooms profusely in the spring; honor the gods on their holidays; and produce wool, thread, yarn, and finished cloth for export to the lowland markets when the passes open up each spring.
It is peaceful; idyllic, even. And Rhosyn ver Owain, daughter of Owain ap Ffrond and Adara ver Cadarn, found it utterly, completely and irredeemably dull. She grew up in the usual manner of her people -- watching the flocks for endless hours, playing tag with her younger brother Penllyn ap Owain, rescuing sheep from their own stupidity, learning to shear and card and spin and weave, and coming to the slow but certain realization that there was nothing here but more of the same. As she reached her full growth, her parents started quietly sounding her out as to which of the village lads she'd prefer to marry, and she told them she would need to consider it. "None of them!" she later groused to her flock, safe in the solitude of the high pastures. "Bunch of dull clods, the lot. They take after their own sheep, they do." But she had no idea what else to do. She knew that there were other villages and even large towns and cities she might visit, but doubted she could reliably explain the distinction between a town and a city, much less tell you how to find one beyond gesturing vaguely downslope. In her heart of hearts, she knew she'd never have the courage to leave Glynffridd. It was her home. It was all she knew. She'd be here to her dying day, and that meant finding a lad, building a hearth, and raising a brood of her own. "I just wish I could go see a bit more of the world before I jump the broomstick," she sighed. And fortune gave her her wish! No more than a few days later, while tracking down a foolish sheep that had wandered off the pastures and into the pine forests that covered the steeper slopes, Rhosyn met a strange, handsome man who had captured her sheep. He soon captured more than that, for he poured sweet words into Rhosyn's eager ears. Once they met; twice; and on the third meeting he whisked her away to his home deep in the forest, with her enthusiastic agreement. Rhosyn has never been entirely sure how long she stayed there; nor where exactly it lay. The entire episode she remembers in the way of a fondly recalled dream, its details hazy and indistinct. She remembers a waterfall, and fireflies, and a warm bed in a rough wooden room. She remembers the taste of wild berries, the caress of her lover's hand, and the pervasive scent of pine. Her only clear memory is eventually deciding that she had been away much too long, and she needed to return home. "Oh, do not go, my love," cried the man. "For the path will not lead to me twice!" "But I must," she replied. "I cannot let my family worry over me. Fear not -- I will return as soon as I may." "Even so," he said sadly. But he let her go. And so Rhosyn returned, hiking out of the deep forests, fully prepared to find Glynffridd in the throes of a panicked search for her, and parents sick with worry. But instead, no one seemed to have noticed her absence -- despite the fact that the moon was new when she got home, where it had been full the night before. Puzzled, she did not mention her new lover to her parents, glad enough to delay the confrontation that would surely bring. But when she sought for her lover's home once more, she found nothing -- no trace of a path that might lead to him, no matter how long or hard she sought. And so, heartbroken, she resumed her life as if nothing had happened. Except ... it had. A month passed. Six weeks. And Rhosyn found herself with child. In her initial panic, she returned once more to the pine forests, calling out for her love, weeping and pleading with him to come, for they were to be parents; but he never came, nor gave any sign. She has never known if she was heard and ignored, or if he was so far beyond her reach as to be unaware of her cries. She prefers to believe the latter; that he never heard her calling. But she can never entirely silence the traitorous thought that he heard her call -- and turned away. Sick at heart, Rhosyn took to her bed and refused to come out. Her parents grew concerned, but nothing they could do would ease her. Finally Rhosyn's mother shoved her husband and son out the door with instructions not to come back for at least four or five hours, sat down by Rhosyn's bed, and insisted on an explanation. The truth was bound to come out sooner or later; and so, haltingly, Rhosyn told her tale. "Bewitched!" exclaimed Adara. "Fey-taken!" "No, oh no," Rhosyn said. "He loved me, truly he did! But I cannot find him again ... and now I bear his child." Adara had some choice words for her foolish daughter, particularly when Rhosyn refused to take a dose of Maiden's Ease to clear her womb. And once Owain and Penllyn came home, it all had to be hashed out all over again. It was a dreadfully unpleasant evening for everyone involved. In the end, they wound up sitting at their rough kitchen table, emotionally exhausted, and talked over what to do. If her shame became known, it would ruin her, and likely her family. Such things were not tolerated in Glynffridd. "And if you stay here, daughter," Owain said sternly, "It's not long before everyone will know. There's nothing for it -- you must leave." "But where will I go?" Rhosyn asked. "The yearly caravan to Dinas Diwydiant leaves next week," Owain said. "You'll go with it. We'll let it be known that your cousin Maeve wrote us about an opening for a maidservant with that wealthy family she works for." "But what will I do?" Rhosyn asked fearfully. "Don't worry, daughter," Adara said. "We won't let you go entirely unprepared. We'll send what coin we can spare -- we have at least a little. We've been saving up. Your brother will need a bride-price in another few years. We can borrow a bit from that. Once you're in the city, go see Maeve. Mayhap she really can find you a position -- if not in her own household, then some other." And thus, a week later, a dazed Rhosyn found herself sitting on a wagon to Dinas Diwydiant with the tearful farewells of her family still ringing in her ears. Five weeks after that, she rang timidly at the back door of a particular manor in one of the better districts of the city, wearing her best frock and painfully aware how dowdy it looked compared to the fashions she'd seen on the way there. Maeve listened sympathetically to her tale, clucked her tongue, and promised to ask around. It took nearly a month; but eventually, she came through. Some gentle inquiries amongst the servants of the city revealed that Mrs. Hyacinth Owens, wife of Mr. Wilfred Owens, was expecting. "And she's due not long after you are, cuz," Maeve said. "They'll be looking for a wet-nurse soon, and their butler owes me a favor. If you're up for it, I'll have him suggest your name. If you work hard, they'll likely keep you on to run their nursery even after the babe is weaned. It's a good post, too -- they're on their way up, they are. Mr. Owens is a partner in that new Sackbury Mining Corporation. Mark my words, the Owenses are set up for life! Get on those coattails and you can ride far." And so Rhosyn came into the employ of Wilfred and Hyacinth Owens. In due time, she gave birth to her child: a girl, possessed of a shock of bright, gold hair -- completely unlike her mother, uncle, or grandparents, all of whom had fine, black hair. Her finely pointed ears and peculiar amber eyes left no one in any doubt that her father was not human. Rhosyn named her Teleri, after the legendary elven sorceress who wove cloaks out of mist and shadow to protect the warriors of Dun Therinan when they went into battle against the forces of Hrapp Mordren, and who defeated the necromancer queen Vigdis in a duel of spells. Hyacinth Owens likewise gave birth, to a boy, whom they named Prentice Owens. It was wearying work caring for two babies, who grew all too soon into active, curious children, but Rhosyn took satisfaction in it. She sent home some of her pay each month, guiltily aware that some of her brother's bride-price had been spent instead to give her a new start. Hyacinth and Rhosyn became fast friends despite their different stations in life, and so the Owenses did in fact keep Rhosyn on as a maidservant long after Prentice and Teleri were weaned and out of the nursery. Further, they raised the two children side by side, affording Teleri far greater advantages in life than she might otherwise have had. The years drew on. Rhosyn grew steadily older. She never married, nor took any other lover. She grew comfortable in her place; and she loved her daughter, and her milk-son. But every night, she falls asleep remembering the scent of pine, and wondering ... if I went back, just once more ... would he be there? --- Notes: "ap" means "son of"; "ver" means "daughter of". Generally a patronymic system in which the last name is the father's first name, but occasionally -- usually in cases of unclear paternity -- children might be given their mother's name instead. Rarely, and usually only in extremis, a grown person might forswear the father's name and take a new one as a sign of extreme displeasure with their parent. Such cases usually result in disinheritance. Teleri ver Rhosyn backstory:
Teleri ver Rhosyn knew from a very early age that she was not like Prentice. But she was not sure why, exactly.
It finally became clear at the age of five-and-a-half, when she and Prentice started their lessons with the new governess. She remembers it clearly. Her mother was tugging her into a crisp new frock and saying "... and mind you pay attention to what the governess teaches you, Teleri. You're lucky, yes, so lucky, to have such an opportunity! Never forget that you owe this to the kindness of Mr. Owens. 'Send the girl too,' he says to me. 'It's no harder to teach two than one.' He didn't have to do that, not at all." "Why not?" Teleri asked curiously. Rhosyn began doing up the laces. "Well, lamb, young master Prentice is Mr. Owens' son. The governess is here to teach him. But Mr. Owens said she should teach you as well, even though you're my daughter." "Isn't he my daddy, too?" Teleri asked. She had always thought this was entirely clear: Prentice was her brother, and they just had different mothers, that's all. "Oh." Rhosyn stopped, turned Teleri around by the shoulders to face her. "No, Teleri," she said. "Mr. Owens is not your father." Teleri absorbed this for a minute. "Oh. Then ... is it Hal?" Hal was the groundskeeper, an old (to Teleri's eyes) man with a face that collapsed into a heap of wrinkles every time he smiled, which was often. He did beautiful things with flowers. Teleri thought she might like it if he were her daddy. A long silence followed. "No. Your father is ... he was ... I can't even ... he had fine, narrow hands like yours, and he was kind to me, and he lives in a warm wooden house in the pine forest. Far, far away from here, in the mountains around Glynffridd, where I grew up. Only he lives ... somewhere on the slopes of Mynydd Duon. I wish I knew exactly where! I only knew him a short while. But I loved him." Teleri tried to imagine all this, and failed. Mountains were fine, you could see those from the city. But she had never seen a forest -- at least, not up close. "What's his name?" she asked. Her mother's face crumpled alarmingly. "I ... can't remember. I can't," she said, and tears gathered in the corners of her eyes. Teleri hugged her mother fiercely, somewhat alarmed that Mama might cry. Rhosyn held her tight a moment. "There now," she said. "All better. Go to the governess now, and mind you speak her fair and do as she says!" "Yes, Mama," Teleri said, and went off to her first lesson. The governess tested them on their letters and numbers. Both knew the alphabet by heart, and could count -- at least up to twelve, though Teleri got a bit wobbly after that. It was fun, and the governess was nice. But there was something different about how she treated Teleri compared to Prentice. The same something that Teleri had noticed all her life. She still couldn't quite put her finger on it. She lay awake that night, thinking about her daddy living in a wooden house in a forest on a mountain and wondering why it made Mama cry to talk about him. She slept deeply that night; and woke up snuggled against her mother, clasping her doll. The grey half-light of predawn filled the room. All was still. And she knew why everyone treated her differently from Prentice. It was because they were different. Prentice was Mr. Owens' son. And she ... was not his daughter. The servants might be kind to her, but it was because Mr. Owens told them to be kind to her. They might teach her, and feed her, and play with her. But they would never forget that Prentice was the one they were really there for, and she was just ... an extra. It would be years yet before she learned the phrase "charity case". But she knew intuitively from that moment onward that that's what she was, even if she couldn't articulate it. She lay in silence a long time, thinking it through. Finally she stirred, just a bit, to hug her doll closer. "Mama is right," she whispered to it. "He's a nice man. I have to show everyone ..." she struggled for the right words, the words that would make it right. "I have to show everyone I'm ... worthy. I have to be worthy. So that they'll ..." But she let the sentence trail off, and lay snuggled by her mother, warm under the blankets, awake and silent until her mother rose to start the day. --- The Owens family were not nobility -- merely wealthy, ambitious merchants. But they were clearly on the rise, and Mr. Owens intended to give Prentice every possible advantage in dealing with the nobility. Perhaps he hoped that someday the boy might find favor with the heiress of some titled noble family that had fallen on hard times and needed an influx of capitol to secure their heritage another few generations. Wealth can buy many things; even nobility. Sitting alongside Prentice, Teleri learned all the skills taught to the scion of an up-and-coming family in Dinas Diwydiant. She learned to dance, which she enjoyed. Their dancing instructor remarked how handy it was to have a young man and woman so close in age to teach together. (1 rank, Perform (Dance)). She spent a great deal of time learning heraldry, etiquette, and the lineages of the area's noble families. This she found less to her taste. But -- driven by her need to prove herself worthy of the largesse she was given -- she studied diligently. She did not fail to note that Prentice was held to a considerably higher standard in these lessons than she was, and soon realized it was because no one expected her to marry a noble. To this day she is unsure whether to be grateful or insulted. (1 rank in Knowledge (Nobility)). For his part, Prentice seemed to be oblivious to the subtly different attitudes their teachers held towards Teleri. He was not a bad lad, really. But he took his station for granted, while Teleri was keenly aware that she had no station, and that no one ever forgot it but Prentice. Eventually, Teleri realized that he was generally less aware of the thoughts and attitudes around him than she was. (Trait: Influence to gain Sense Motive as a class skill; 1 rank in Sense Motive; Skill Focus in Sense Motive.) Their instruction did not extend to the magical arts; Mr. Owen considered that sort of work below a nobleman, better suited to the hordes of half-trained adepts who powered the factories of Dinas Diwydiant. But -- somewhat contrarily -- he considered it a necessary and indeed fine thing for a high class young man to be able to use magical tools. Teleri found this interesting, and quickly proved adept at waking the magic within a wide variety of items. (1 rank, Use Magic Device.) In all of her studies, Teleri worked just as hard as she could. She had to be worthy of all she was given. Nothing made her happier than mastering a new skill, and earning the praise -- real praise, not feigned -- of her teachers. (Fast Learner feat.) --- Mrs. Owens had no further children after Prentice. Twice when Teleri was still very young, Mrs. Owens went to childbed; both were stillborn. After that, Mr. and Mrs. Owens got separate beds for some reason. Sometimes Mrs. Owens would call Teleri into her bedroom and talk with her about clothes. She even let Teleri bounce on the bed -- it had some of those new springs in it! The other beds in the house rested on sisal ropes that constantly needed tightening, and they were no fun to bounce on. Invariably, these visits would result in new gowns and frocks and all sorts of clothes a few days later. Teleri eventually realized that what Mrs. Owens really wanted was a daughter to dress up; but she did not mind. She liked Mrs. Owens. One day, Teleri managed to tear a rather nice deep green velvet frock that Mrs. Owens had given her, in the course of attempting to climb up a trellis on a dare from Prentice. She got part way up and then slipped off. The fall was only a few feet, but her frock had gotten caught on the trellis and ripped almost in half. Prentice fell into gales of laughter as she picked herself up, struggling to hold her clothing together. She burst into tears and ran inside. Within, she ran into Mrs. Owens before anyone else. "Why, Teleri!" Mrs. Owens exclaimed. "What's happened?" Tearfully, Teleri related the events of the past minute. Mrs. Owens put her hands on her hips. "Well, I'll have to have a word with Prentice later about how rude it is to laugh at a lady in distress." she said. "Come on. Let's get you cleaned up and properly dressed." Mrs. Owens took her upstairs and got her out of the green frock. "Well, that's likely ruined," she said regretfully, eyeing the enormous rip across the front. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Owens," a crestfallen Teleri said. "And you should be," Mrs. Owens said. She patted the green dress. "You need to take care of your clothing. A woman's dress is her weapon." Teleri just looked blankly at her. "That's right," Mrs. Owens said. "People see you and your clothing long before you say a word, Teleri. The right dress can make you the center of attention -- or it can hide you, make sure no one pays any attention. The right dress can provoke an argument -- or calm a room of angry men. It can set the tone for you." Teleri nodded doubtfully. "Just watch people," Mrs. Owens said. "Men don't always understand this, but you can tell so much about someone by how they dress. And how you dress can say an awful lot about you. Now," she wrapped a robe around the half-naked child, "Go upstairs and put on a clean frock." "Yes, ma'am," Teleri said, and did so. She thought about what Mrs. Owens had said. She knew there was to be a formal tea party that evening -- which was why she'd been wearing a good frock in the first place -- so she picked a simple white dress with an empire waistline and a red sash, washed her face with cold water, and ran a brush through her hair. When she came back downstairs again, Mrs. Owens nodded. "Very good, Teleri." And Teleri glowed in the praise. (Trait: Extremely Fashionable, gaining Diplomacy as a class skill.) --- One evening when Teleri was 15 and working on an essay she'd been assigned to compose, she carelessly knocked a bottle of ink off the writing table. It plummeted towards the floor. She leaped after it, snatching it mid-air -- but though she caught it, the ink inside splashed out and splattered itself all over a rather nice rug. "Oh no," she exclaimed quietly. Snatching up a rag she had been using as a blotter, she tried to clean it up before it could stain. But her efforts accomplished nothing beyond grinding it even further into the pile of the carpet. "Oh no, oh no," she said again, scrubbing desperately at the stain. "Come out! Come out!" And, to her astonishment, it did. The ink reluctantly pulled itself free of the rug and seeped into the rag. In a few moments she had an ink-stained rag -- and a spotless carpet. She sat back on her heels and stared at it in bewilderment. She sat back down and found herself utterly unable to concentrate on her essay. That had clearly been magic. She called on the ink to come out, and it came. But she couldn't do magic. Could she? She took a bit of ink and smeared it onto a scrap of paper. "Come out," she said, staring intently at it and dabbing at it with her finger. Nothing happened, aside from smearing ink all over her finger. "Oh," she said in disappointment, wiping her finger on the rag. It was another few months before the next incident. She woke in the middle of the night, thirsty, and set out to find the pitcher of water she and her mother kept in their quarters for such moments. It was pitch black, and she managed to stub her toe pretty hard against the dresser. She hissed in pain. "Stupid dresser," she muttered, setting her hand on it. "If only I had some light!" And light filled the room. The entire dresser blazed with it. She shrank back, shielding her eyes against the sudden luminance. "Uh oh," she said, casting a worried glance back to the bed she shared with her mother. "Uh ... go out now. No more light!" she whispered, pawing at the dresser, as if hoping to extinguish it like a candle. "Cut it out! You'll wake Mom!" But the furniture paid no mind to her pleading, and continued to glow with a bright, steady light. She stared at it helplessly. When the light finally dimmed and vanished some ten minutes later, Teleri heaved a sigh of unalloyed relief. Rhosyn had had her back to the whole thing, and continued her sleep unawares. Teleri had her drink of water in the dark. "Now ... that was magic," she whispered to herself. "No two ways about it. What the hell! How? Where? What?" She made her way carefully back to bed and slid into it. "Well," she breathed to herself. "Guess I'm not going to get any more sleep to- ..." And then she woke to find it morning. Her mother had already risen and gone about her day when Teleri sat bolt upright, convinced that she had magically rendered herself unconscious. "I have got to get a handle on this," she said to the empty room, clutching the blankets in her hands. --- It took a great deal of clandestine experimentation. She didn't want Mr. Owens, or indeed anyone, to know about this. It seemed so ... low-brow. But in time, Teleri learned that she had a number of useful abilities. She could pick up, move, and manipulate small objects remotely, summon light, perform a variety of small (but often useful) tasks. And she could put people to sleep, as she'd learned on herself. She also learned that she could see active magical effects, which she stumbled on in the midst of a lesson on using magical devices. Fortunately neither Prentice nor the teacher seemed to have noticed. The objects ... she could see the magic on them, enfolding them, entwining them, suffusing them. It looked to her like ... a cat poised to pounce, motionless until the right moment. The objects seemed to her to move, to be alive, even though they were truly inanimate and still. She thought about asking the instructor about this, but nervously decided against it. She wasn't sure she wanted to let anyone know about her ... affliction? Ability? Her last ability took her a while to uncover. --- It happened while she was out and about in town, assisting Mrs. Owens on a shopping trip. While Mrs. Owens was busy discussing a bolt of fabric with a shopkeeper, Teleri wandered out to the door and stood looking out into the street. Across the way, she could see a group of three children mocking a fourth. Their target was a young boy, no more than six or seven, who cowered away from them. Teleri could make out a holy symbol hanging from a thong about his neck, but she couldn't see which one. "Waterfingers, waterfingers!" the older boys jeered at him. "Spends all day prayin' for water!" "I've got yer water right here," the largest boy said, reaching for his breeches, clearly intending to urinate on the unfortunate victim. Teleri frowned ferociously at the crude ruffian. "Oh, let him go," she said under her breath. "He's just doing what he has to to get by." She knew they wouldn't hear her -- he was across the street from her entirely, and it would most unladylike to yell the way the boys were. But the boy paused, an odd expression on his face. He sealed his breeches up again. "What's 'a matter, Grim?" asked one of the others. "Aw, let him go," Grim said. "He's just doing what he has to to get by. Come on, let's go find sumfin to eat." The other two ruffians looked at one another in perplexity. "Well ... if you say so, Grim," one of them said. And so they left, leaving their victim and Teleri standing in equal surprise at the sudden turn of events. Released from his tormentors, the acolyte lad lost no time making himself scarce. "Those were my words," Teleri said to herself. "But how ..." "What was that, Teleri?" Mrs. Owens asked, emerging. "Here, be a dear and carry these, would you?" She pushed a bag full of bolts of cloth into Teleri's hands. "Oh ... nothing," Teleri said. "Just muttering to myself." "Well, don't. Polite young ladies do not mutter. They speak clearly and eloquently, or not at all." "Yes, Mrs. Owens," Teleri said. But all the way home she tumbled it over in her head: those were her words. She'd put them in his head, somehow. Given him a thought. Although she was glad to have helped the poor acolyte lad, Teleri found herself somewhat discomfited at the thought that she could reach out and alter people's minds, will-they nill-they. Some careful experimentation proved that it would work on animals, too. One of the neighbor houses had a small dog, Petunia, that yapped incessantly. Teleri contrived to get it alone for a moment, and reached for the magic. "Barking is only for danger," she told it. Then she studied it, and sure enough, she could see magic working in Petunia. The neighbor -- Mrs. Haviland -- was deeply concerned at Petunia's sudden silence, insisting on bringing in an expensive veterinarian. "The dear thing just must be ill," she said, wringing her hands. But the veterinarian pronounced Petunia in fine health -- and everyone else on the block was so relieved that eventually Mrs. Haviland decided to let it be. Months after her experiment, Teleri could still see the magic working on Petunia's mind. It appeared to be permanent. Guiltily, she wondered what her first use was doing to the mind of the boy Grim, wherever he might be out in the city. After long, uncomfortable reflection, she eventually concluded that this power was best used cautiously, if at all. (Petunia later saved her family's life by barking up a storm when a coal tumbled out of an unattended fireplace whose grate hadn't been properly closed and set fire to the rug -- her warning brought the servants in time to extinguish the flames before they could spread.) --- As her 18th birthday approached, Teleri began to dread the future. A proper young lady would have been formally introduced to Society at seventeen. But of course no one had even mentioned such a thing. Nor had she asked. She knew it was not in the cards. Presenting a maidservant's daughter, the natural child of some nameless forest brigand? Why, it would have made the Owens family a laughingstock! She was grateful to the Owens family, of course. Loved them, even. But at the same time, she resented them. Their generosity was, in a way, cruelty. They had taken a young girl and given her everything they would have given their own daughter. She was an educated, sophisticated young woman poised and prepared to take a place in the upper ranks of her city -- but she would never, ever be permitted to do so. The injustice of it rankled. And what could she do? And so she dressed in a cool, formal frock, high-necked, with long sleeves. It was tight -- not in a manner to show off her feminine attributes, but rather the tight that says business-like -- correct in every line and fold. She complemented this with just a few touches of makeup, designed to draw her audience's gaze to her eyes, and pinned her gold hair back in a sleek, low bun. She found Mr. Owens in his study, reading. A snifter of brandy sat on the table -- he was not a heavy drinker, but enjoyed a nip now and then. She noticed that he was somewhat more portly than she had usually thought of him as being; and there were streaks of grey in his hair that she had not noticed before. She knocked on the door frame. He looked up. "Ah, Teleri!" he said. "What is it?" As he spoke she saw him take in her appearance. "Mr. Owens, would you be so good as to spare me a few minutes of your time?" she asked him, unsmiling. He nodded slowly, meeting her gaze. He shut the book. "Please, sit," he said. "Thank you, sir," she said, and perched daintily on the edge of an overstuffed armchair facing his. "Brandy?" he offered. "No, thank you," she replied. "Very well. To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?" "I would like to speak with you concerning my future," she said. "Ah." He took a small sip of brandy, and let the silence lengthen. "Well, go on," he said. "As you know," she said, "I have just passed my eighteenth birthday. I am most grateful to you and Mrs. Owens for your kind consideration all these years. I owe you a debt I cannot ever hope properly to repay, for an upbringing far beyond my station." He nodded, but did not speak. "I am now a woman grown, though young," she continued, "And find myself in an awkward position. I have all the skills pertinent to a woman of Society; yet I cannot be presented. The nature of my birth and parentage forbids it. Therefore, I must find some other path forward in life." "I had thought," he said, "That perhaps you might be suited to become a governess. You have certainly excelled in every study; I am sure any number of families might be happy to have you instruct their children." Teleri nodded. "Indeed, sir, that had occurred to me," she replied. "But I have discounted it." His eyebrows went up. "And why is that?" he asked. "It is an honorable position, though surely not a high lot." "Mr. Owens," she said in a low voice, meeting his eye directly. "I was raised to be a woman of Society. I crave it. Yet such will never be my lot. I cannot think of any course more certain to turn me into a bitter, vengeful hag than spending my life teaching other people's children to take what I want but can never have." She let the unspoken rebuke color the tone of her words, and was gratified to see him flush and look away. "And so," she went on, lightening her tone. "It occurred to me to wonder if the Sackbury Mining Corporation might have a position of some sort that I might fill. Perhaps as a record-keeper, or a secretary; you know my handwriting is clear and fine, and I pay close attention to detail in all my work." "Hmm," he said. "That is certainly a real possibility. I cannot promise you anything, but I will make enquiries and see if a suitable position might be available." "I would be most grateful, Mr. Owens," she said. "Thank you kindly." "Think nothing of it," he said, swirling the brandy in its snifter before downing the last of it. "I will let you know in a few days." "Very well," she said. "Thank you for your time. Good evening, Mr. Owens." "Good evening," he replied. He stared at the cover of his book until the rustle of her skirts faded down the hallway. "Hrmph," he said, and went to bed. --- Mr. Owens came through. Within a month of their conversation, Teleri had found employment as a junior clerk in the Sackbury Mining Corporation. She was the only woman in her office. Her presence occasioned a variety of reactions from her co-workers. Some were puzzled by her, but eventually shrugged and got on with their work. Others were rude, ignoring her contributions and constantly assigning her menial tasks even without officially having the authority to do so. One young man who started at the same time she did, Bertram Osterwald, made attempts to court her -- if "courting" involves a constant stream of unwelcome vulgar suggestions. Her boss, Mr. Lyle Young, was pleasant enough; but distant. Teleri suspected he had accepted her strictly because of Mr. Owens' influence, and that he quietly resented being forced to take her on. For the most part, Teleri bore all this patiently. She knew she would have to work twice as hard as any of them to prove herself. But as Bertram's provocations became more insistent, she did eventually deal with him: one day she caught him alone and unawares in the break room, sent him to sleep, and planted the thought "That cold fish Teleri isn't worth my time" in his head. For several weeks afterwards he would approach her, get an odd, puzzled look on his face, and then wander off without speaking. Eventually he quit trying to interact entirely, ignoring her thoroughly, and dedicated a lot more of his time to his work. After two years of diligent, careful work, Teleri knew that she would never prove herself here. Her superiors were uniformly pleased with her work, enjoyed her company, and showed no inclination to give her any kind of advancement. For several months she dilly-dallied, unhappy with her position but unsure what to do. The final straw came one day when she was passing by her boss's office. The door was slightly ajar, and she could hear voices within: Mr. Young and Bertram. She paused, clutching a stack of folders to her chest, to listen. "I've been impressed with you over the last 18 months, Osterwald," Mr. Young was saying. "You started out pretty rough, in all honesty. At one point I thought I might need to step in and discipline you for harassing Miss Rhosyn. But then you got your act together." "Oh, well, after a while I realized that cold fish Teleri isn't worth my time," Bertram replied earnestly. "And so I decided to buckle down to my work instead." In the hallway, Teleri covered her eyes with one hand, a pained expression crossing her face. "Well, be that as it may," Mr. Young replied, "You've done well. Now, there's an opening for an up-and-coming young man like yourself that I've become aware of ..." Teleri fled, a mixture of rage and bitter amusement boiling in her heart. She made her way to an out-of-the-way corner of the archives and slammed her folders down on top of a filing cabinet. She stared at them a moment, then smashed the entire heap off, sending heaps of folders cascading to the floor. "Of all the injustices! He thought he *might* have to intervene ... and then, to think that that vile little toady is going to get a promotion because I had to protect myself ...! AGH!" Then, her uncharacteristic anger spent as suddenly as it had appeared, she slumped down to the floor and sat against the filing cabinet, arms about her knees. She sat there in silence for nearly twenty minutes. Finally, tiredly, she began gathering up the folders and restoring their contents. When she was nearly done, a phrase caught her eye: "HELP WANTED." Sitting back on her heels, she looked at the piece of paper more closely. It was a report from one of SMC's outlying holdings, a mine in the town of Pentrefan, reporting a peculiar series of vandalisms and assaults by persons unknown. The administrator there had written to the main office for authorization to hire independent troubleshooters, and included a copy of the "help wanted" advertisment he intended to run. "200 brenins," Teleri murmured to herself, tapping the back of her thumb to her lips. "A sum sufficient to start a fortune, properly invested." Why not? she thought to herself. A giddy sensation of relief flooded through her. No more interfiling. No more tedious clerical work. And if she succeeded, why, she'd be well on her way to achieving what she really wanted: a place for herself. Had not Mr. Owens gained entry to society by accumulating wealth? There are more ways than one to present yourself to Society -- and nothing speaks quite so loudly as wealth. And so, Teleri carefully copied out the advertisment. A week later she resigned her position to a very surprised Mr. Young, who nonetheless made no real attempt to dissuade her. And a few days after that, she found a ride to Pentrefan, posting a letter to her mother about the endeavor mere moments before hopping on the wagon -- lest Rhosyn try to dissuade her. As the wagon pulled out of Dinas Diwydiant, Teleri looked back over her shoulder. "I'll be back," she whispered to the city of her birth. "Just you wait and see." |
