Autumn Festival - Another Evil Quill-Weave story. Chapter 1 of (I truly hope not too many!!!)

"What's the matter Mistress? The tower's practically back to normal, the villagers love you, and your last prank actually worked last month and you didn't even end up naked in the town square as usual!”

"I don't know, Mookie. It just seems all so... pointless. I don't scare anybody. The townsfolk treat me as their resident crazy woman.”

Faceless Mook took something down from the cupboard, put it on a plate and brought it to his mistress with a glass of milk.

"Here. Have a cupcake. These always cheer you up.”

Evil Quill-Weave looked at the chocolate cupcake. The orange icing had a smiling skull on it. Not a grinning skull. That might have at least held a tinge of the macabre. No, this skull had upturned edges and rosy cheeks. All relevance to death had been relegated to the most banal of symbols.

"See, this is a perfect example Mookie. The holiday was supposed to celebrate darkness, evil and death. Instead it was nothing but an excuse for children to roam the village dressed up in vaguely disquieting costumes and eat sweets.”

She downed the cupcake in a single bite though. Orange icing stuck to the side of her mouth.

"And then they bring me these? I'm telling you, Mookie, I'm a failure at this. All my efforts are pointless. I suck at being Evil.”

Mookie took the napkin and dabbed at her mouth. "Sorry Ma'am, you've got a bit of...”

"Dammit Mookie, it's just not working!” Quill exclaimed, standing up and banging her fist on the table.

"There's a bit more...”

She turned and bent over and let Mookie dab at her mouth with a napkin.

"Thanks Mookie. But I think it's time I ended this charade, cleaned up the tower and put it up for sale.”

"That would be a shame, Mistress. I've come to rather like the uniform too. I'd have to go back to farming again.”

"It's no good Mookie. I've made up my mind. I'm going back home to bring my maid and then I'm putting the place up for sale.”

"You know, there is still the fall festival next week. Maybe you could create some mischief there? If only as a last-hurrah before you go?”

"Mischief. That's the right word. I wanted to work schemes, Mookie. Schemes! But the most I can do is mischief. LIke a naughty little girl.”

"There is something to be said for naughty girls,” Mookie mumbled under his breath.

"I'll hold off announcing till after the festival, but I'm going to start preparing anyway. Besides, it will be nice to have this place tidied up a bit. Bring the horse and wagon around, Mookie. I'm heading back to Anvil!”

"Already? You just got here!”

"I'll be back in a couple of days. Sorry Mookie - you're a great minion, but you suck as a housekeeper.”

Quill dressed in her normal, drab clothing and was on her way back down the road to Anvil by noon.

She didn't push the horses, but she did ride with a dedication, only stopping when absolutely necessary. It did cross her mind once or twice that her maid may not want to come with her to clean up her Tower of Doom, but she knew that would at most mean a few more coppers would be needed.

No, what really concerned her was that she would have to reveal this side of herself to the little white cat. Already she felt she'd corrupted the poor thing somewhat. But, of course, the magnetism of a published author's aura had been too much for such a weak creature. It was, perhaps, the most evil thing she actually had ever done, taking advantage like she had.

And now, on rare nights when the moons were out, a soft-footed, silent visitor might steal into her room and lay with her a while. Not that she minded those visits. But still she did feel a pang of guilt that her own overpowering writer's attraction had somewhat sullied such a pure and innocent young khajiit. But of course there was no help for it. She couldn't change who she was, and by day the albino maid appeared no less professional and proper than she had before. If her amorous nature only manifested on those rare nights that her attraction to Quill's physical beauty could no longer be held in check, it was a suffering that Quill was prepared to continue to withstand. Perhaps it was these rare chances to release her inner-beast's pent up lust that allowed her cheerful innocence to continue.

Yes, that must be it, Quill concluded. In fact, she was doing the poor creature a favor, allowing such... 'releases'. Though it had been quite some time since the last 'release'. Surely such a delay wasn't good for her maid. She might drop a subtle hint when she spoke with her next. She was such a good employer, she realized with a grin of self-satisfaction, to consider her maid's physical and mental health like this. Yes, she would drop a hint. She was prepared to suffer through another such visit... the sooner the better.

Normally the trip would have taken two days, but the more she thought about her maid, the more she was determined to make it to Anvil this night. So she rode deeper into the night than she normally would have, finally arriving home after sunset, though not so late that the tavern wasn't open.

Though the barkeep was surprised to see her, the other patrons wouldn't have known her schedule. She didn't drink terribly much, however. She only wanted to loosen up her brain after the long ride before heading to bed, so she staggered only a little as she made her way back to her house.

She stepped inside her house and immediately knew something was wrong. The door was unlocked, and only her and her maid had the key. Then she heard a noise from upstairs. A moan perhaps? And a female one at that.

She lit a lamp quietly and grabbed her bow and a single arrow from where they were kept nearby. Then she crept up the side of the stairs near the wall where they didn't creak.

Her bedroom door was open slightly, but no lights were on. She peered into her room, trying to see who was in there and what they were up to.

Immediately she breathed a sigh of relief at seeing it was the white cat after all. But what was her maid doing here at this time of night? She knew Quill was going to be out of town on one of her sabbaticals. Then she looked closer.

Two things she saw that struck her immediately. First, the books were her 'special' books she kept hidden under a floorboard. Admittedly they were her own creation, written in times of extreme... loneliness? No, the euphemism was inadequate. Extreme horniness was the truth of the matter. As such, they were not stories she could possibly release under her own name, but even under a pseudonym they were far too racy for any publisher she knew, even if she did want to release them.

So she kept them hidden, only breaking them out occasionally for her own private perusal. But apparently the maid had found them. It shouldn't have been a surprise, really. The albino khajiit was meticulous in her work, cleaning every nook and cranny of Quill-Weave's house. Obviously she had found the loose floorboard at some point. But Quill's reaction to seeing the maid reading these private books was not anger. It was guilt.

That was the first thing she noticed. The second was... she does wear panties underneath!