At the Cabin ❄
At the Cabin ❄
Tomorrow is the day. Sildras’ name day.
I had to meet with Mother today. There was no more putting it off.
It was short.
As was Mother’s temper.
She did not raise her voice, but she made her cold replies speak for her. It cut to the heart of me to hear her tone and primarily one or two word responses.
The truth of the whole situation is that she has given more of a warm reception to Councilmer she actively hates and is planning to ruin their ambition and life. Yet I heard less feeling in her voice than I have directed to those she has just signed a contract with the Morag Tong.
I knew that she could be cruel when upset, but this was a whole other level to it.
More than anything, I was glad that Sildras was not present for it. He was busy practicing his lines for the Temple and a small speech of thanks at the banquet in the evening.
The only thing Mother said to me at any length was a warning to behave myself and not to make any scenes that would be upsetting to our family’s reputation.
I simply agreed as I took my leave.
I still do not know why Mother is so very cross. She is the one at fault here. I did not say anything that she did not say thrice as bad back at me.
I have little time to dwell on that right now, however. I have Sildras’ name day to celebrate.
I have received word that the first of the offerings have made it to the Velothi tribes. So that at least is proceeding at a good pace.
And on Turdas we will be heading to the tribe southeast of the city to perform the traditional name day celebration as well. We will ask the Farseer to give a blessing and the rites.
We will all pray for Azura’s guidance over Sildras, who like Mother and Avon, will likely dedicate himself.
I shall make offerings to all of the Three. We need as many blessings as we can get.
Hal when he is young and in the fighters guild and then older when he gets his eye scratched out :)
A sweet n' fluffy OC one shot for you, if I may
It was cold. And rainy. And wet.
Remeir and Miraak stood and observed the downpour, both pondering over their little predicament. In the spur of the storm, the two dragonborn took off towards the closest shelter they could find and luckily came upon an abandoned cave.
Miraak shook his head in dismay and grumbled an assortment of dovah curses. Remeir mustered a sigh before using a small flame spell to guide her way into the mouth of the cave. "This is just dreadful," Miraak muttered. "Dreadful, I say."
"Just get in here and help me start a fire before we both catch a cold," the redhead called back. Both of them were squatted down, a shivering mess. There were a few dried and burnable materials in her bag, such as paper, books she held no current interest in, and even unnecessary ingredients. The fire she managed to craft was a small one, yet durable. Luckily, her ebony armor deflected any rain from touching her clothes underneath. Her tall, atmoran companion was not so fortunate.
Miraak's robes were drenched and the worn fabric stuck to his skin like tree sap. She definitely didn't blame him for being as vexed as he was. "Don't glare at me with such remorse, Dragonborn," the man finally sighed. The quirky elf blew out a chuckle before rising to her feet. "I can dry your robes for you, if you want. I imagine it's not very comfy," she offered. Miraak inspected her extended hand and glanced at his outfit. "As long as you do not catch them on fire. I'm not in the mood for running around this land like a half-nude peasant." As serious and nonchalant as he was, Remeir bent over in a spew of laughter. "Oh, gods! How can someone as cold as you be so funny?! I could-- I could just picture you walking around like a damned caveman!" He clearly wasn't amused by the display in front of him.
In silent disgust, Miraak peeled off his top and threw it at his savior's face. "It's humiliating to be reminded that you were able to defeat me," he hissed. Still, she continued to chortle like an infant. Remeir was well-past her years of embarrassment. Over time, she gradually learned to ignore the opinions of others and lived the carefree life she always desired. That being said, most were so intimidated by her flamboyant personality that she was often avoided. She never failed to be amazed how Miraak had remained by her side for this long, now. Mara only knew almost every second with her had to be excruciating for him.
When the dunmer finally composed herself, she draped Miraak's robes above the fire and let the heat do its work. When she turned to face him, she had forgotten that his upper body was now completely and utterly bare. Saying that Remeir was unprepared for the sight in front of her was a massive understatement. As long as this woman had been breathing, she was more inexperienced with men than a fly was with a house! Besides the heavenly sound of his voice, she colored Miraak to have the body of one of the grey beards. That being said, she never failed to catch notice of the way his biceps swelled when lifting something heavy or how broad his shoulders grew when throwing his gear over his back. She knew he had a burly musculature. But this, this was something else entirely. Was that an eight-pack?!!
"Quit staring, you star-eyed oaf!" She switched back to reality when Miraak attempted to cover his front with his arms like an exposed woman. "My bad. Just trying to figure who the lucky lady you're trying to impress is," Rem stated bluntly before plopping down beside him. "Or~," she purred. "Could it be a seeker?" Miraak used his hand to push her face away. "You are outrageous," he grumbled. "Immature, little brat." Remeir ignored him and slid out her bedroll from her knapsack. As she started to unfold it, she glanced her companion's bag. "Is your stuff alright? It looks soaked."
"That's because it is. I cannot understand how I am the unlucky one in this situation. Other than those silly braids of yours, you along with all of your things are completely dry," he noted, fishing through his belongings. "Maybe it's because Lady Mara shines on my every step," she cooed. "Well, your Lady would sure be kind to shine a bit of light in my direction, as well." Sure enough, he retrieved a damp bedroll. "Oh, dear," she voiced. "Oh dear, indeed..." Miraak released a groan of annoyance and welcomed it on the cold floor. "Would you... like to share mine?"
A brief, uncertain silence was exchanged between the two. With Remeir's cheeks becoming the same pigment as her red strands, she started to frantic. "I-I mean, you probably won't like it since it'll be a tight squeeze. But it's better than sleeping on hard rock, right?" she clipped. Miraak took a moment to think it over. "Alright."
That night, Remeir was overwhelmed with all types of emotions. The soft glow of the campfire was able to ease her mind a tad, but viewing the large silhouette of Miraak's shadow flicker against the cave wall, it didn't do much help. She couldn't put her finger on it. It wasn't that she was afraid of him. His entire aura was just so overpowering to her. It was like sleeping next to a docile bear. The young elf stiffened after feeling his back press further into hers as he slept. He seemed awfully comfortable for someone who despised being even remotely close to another person.
He was so warm. She was surprised he produced so much body heat, which was the contrary to his icy persona. In all honesty, Remeir often admitted to herself that he was quite cute. He was strong, of course he was. He made made that clear whenever he was able, no matter the time nor place. But he was just so adorable! As her brain rambled on, Remeir neglected to notice him reposition himself on his other side to where his chest was firm against her back. She let out a tiny squeak in response. No longer was this man "adorable", he was flatout terrifying! "Miraak," she sounded. He was too deep in his slumber to reply.
When she attempted to wriggle some space between then, her actions were shot down upon feeling the sensation of Miraak's arms curling around the small of her form. Remeir's sanity was now dangling by a thread. He was so incredibly close to her in this moment, if his mask wasn't working as a barrier, he'd be kissing her neck! She nudged and squirmed and continued to make little attempts of stirring him from his unconscious oasis, but alas she ended up in failure each time.
"Zu'u los hin..."
The scrambled woman's breath had caught in her throat. She wasn't exceedingly fluent in Dovahzul like Miraak, but she was able to catch only his sleep-slurred words. "I am yours," he had said. What was that supposed to mean?? Rem prayed to every Aedra and Daedra that he wasn't dreaming of anything suggestive while holding her in such a way. Other than his odd choice of words and affectionate touch, he showed no signs of having any explicit intent.
Over the minutes, Remeir gradually released any pent-up tension she held and let herself become engulfed by the larger figure behind her. Miraak's legs softly entangled with her own and her heartbeat fell into the same rhythm as his. It was strange. She'd forgotten how safe it felt to be coddled by another person. She knew it wouldn't last, though she wished it would. Once he found out what he was doing, it would be the last time she would ever be caressed by him. That much upset her.
But little did the Last Dragonborn know, Miraak was awake the entire time.
God I literally love those two too much
honestly this is coming out of no where
but avrusa and aduri sarethi being moss’ children makes so much sense they’re literally the same,, avrusa took their extremely hard working and fiercely honourable side and aduri represents their freedom and love for adventure
Tell me why my art style is more unpredictable than my grades
commissioned portrait for @vic-fontaine! thank you!
I tried in vain to clean up the ink spilled when Sildras’ summoned scamp came tearing through my office, Kuna and Cariel gleefully giving chase.
I would have blotted it immediately, but the fetching creature was heading straight towards my poisons cabinet and I knew that it would be far more dangerous to allow it to get there.
I managed to scruff the thing and then shape the shield spell into somewhat of an orb around it so that its attempts to scratch and shoot fire would be confined to itself.
The girls were fascinated and Kuna tried to grab the scamp as if it were a toy.
I told them both to wait there while I went to deal with this and not to follow me. They complained, but with Nabine out and unable to be a possible opposing voice, they sulked as I went to track down Sildras.
It did not take long to find where Sildras was in his room, a tomb of arcane spells open upon his desk, and a shield up where another scamp was desperately trying to throw fireballs at him.
To make a long and tedious story far shorter, Sildras and I worked together to get the two scamps to a place where they were together. Then I held them in place with some spider silk and a shield while Sildras looked for the way to send them back. It seemed cruel just to kill them, after all.
Avon came back as we were tiring ourselves out with the whole situation and send them back to whichever plan of Oblivion they had come from.
Avon, Sildras, and I had a good long talk about keeping summoning to the practice room and making sure not to try new spells without supervision. He agreed to all this, of course
When we asked him why he had done so, he said he wanted to try his best to learn quickly so that Mother would not be disappointed in him and so that I would not fight with her about what happened at the University. Somehow, through all of this, he has decided it is his fault that she and the professors had pushed him so hard.
Avon and I had a long talk with him about it. Avon was the perfect person to involve, he graduated in the top three mer of his class, after all. And I left them to finish their talk and the servants to straighten up the mess left by the scamps.
When I got back to my office, I found that the girls had decided to draw in the wet ink left on my open journal. I felt very foolish for having left them so long alone, especially with the journal.
Alas, no real harm done. It was just a single page. And I was able to take them out to have some fun in the garden while Avon and Sildras finished speaking. At the conclusion of it all, the whole family decided to put together a nice game we could all play. By the time Nabine returned, there was little evidence of the excitement, though Kuna and Cariel immediately began to tell Nabine all about it.
Luckily for Sildras, he did not have to relive the embarrassment since he does not speak any Bosmeris yet. Well, he has learned a few words, but he could not follow the conversation, certainly.
Nabine decided perhaps she should take the girls on her next hunt, if only to keep their tracking skills up. Kuna, she reasoned, was getting old enough now the be taking her shooting more serious as well, so today it was just us lads left behind.
Plays-With-Fire came to visit and to give a small lesson in magicka that both Sildras and I partook in. It was Alteration, something that Plays-With-Fire readily admitted was not his strongest school. Avon claimed to have even less knowledge of it, so we kept to the basics.
In the end, it devolved into a theoretical discussion. Well, nearly an argument, between Plays-With-Fire and Avon. The two of them got so heated, I thought they might become physically entangled and I would need to shoo Sildras out of the room. The tension between the two mages is so obvious, I felt as though I were intruding upon something deeply intimate. I gave Plays-With-Fire a room for the night and invited him to stay for supper. He accepted, surprisingly and when dinner was over, he stayed to continue the earlier argument.
Nabine and I left them to reach whatever conclusion they would, and focused on one another. Nabine fell asleep soon after, but I find myself unable to do so.
There is not less love between Nabine and I, but it... I do not know how to describe it. It is different. I feel as though she is less interested in me as a lover than as another parent for the children.
It is strange. So many years I had longed to be reunited, to take her in my arms again, to make love, and yet... it seems almost as though I am the one with the greater feelings. Perhaps having children simply changes a person. I do not know.
In the morn, I shall speak to Avon about things. He will likely have some useful advice.
*he offers u a skull*
Wealth beyond measure, outlander
*stops my guar from chewing on your toes*
Lemme give you a reference sheet for my Nerevarine, Mordraamar Agoth. He’s half dunmer half altmer and was raised in Cyrodiil where he also go arrested for pickpocketing people in the market place in the Imperial city. It was not the first time he was doing this and that’s how he ended up in jail but he would’ve never thought being deported to Morrowind for that much. I’m not good at talking about my ocs so I just draw them and hope it’s enough.
he’s had a glow up :^> my only issue is that widening him made him look shorter, but he looked too thin/weedy in the original tbh. hes built like an orc anyway p much so its nbd
my whinge of the night is white ppl shipping poc or poc-coded characters with white or white-coded colonizers 🤢
as the product of an interracial relationship, let me be clear. i do feel like there’s a vast gulf of difference between a consensual interracial relationship that takes place outside the context of active and direct colonization. it reinforces the notion that one has to 'like' and embrace their colonizer when said colonizer is already invading and forcing their culture on the indigenous one and all that and its like not only is that happening but yall have to LOVE ur colonizer and find them attractive; Never Mind the fact that within a few generations we’re gonna end up hating ourselves and wanting to look like the colonizer anyways bc ‘beauty is in the eye of the colonizer’ being a result of forced assimilation and yt/colonizer privilege and all that. its like oh boy, we’re somehow obligated to let them colonize our hearts and bodies, too, not just our lands. as an indigenous person also, i cannot tell u how exhausting it is to keep seeing white ppl parade this trope around.
ive seen this done on small individual/fandom levels more times than i can count, but probably the most famous example i can think of is Disney's travesty-ridden portrayal of Pocahontas. the fact that her relationship with john pretty much portrayed the other natives as backwards and harmful bc “they just didnt understand" just made it 100x worse.
also the fact that some of u r out here using colonization as a baseline for writing interracial relationships...like its "the perfect excuse" or w/e.... 🤡
i dont think i should have to explain why it's Worrsiome to see instances where the interracial relationships in a white person's writing primarily occur primarily when one culture (particularly nonwhite, or otherwise coded as poc) is at the mercy of another (particularly if the colonizer is white or coded as such.)
like i dont care if its gay ship doesnt make this any “better” imo. if ur white and ur writing the kind of nonsense where an individual who is directly involved with colonizing someone (as in they are actively taking part in colonization efforts on an individual level!!) is being shipped with the person/people being colonized, please keep that content tf away from me
months old art, since i havent been drawing or posting anything anywhere. im back?
“we are talking about a fight-fight, right?”
I have finally managed to secure three messengers. Not nearly enough for all that I wish to send, but it should at least allow me to send to the tribes of Deshaan and begin to reach out to those in Stonefalls. I fear that much will not be delivered in time now, but at least it is a start.
Further, I am expecting to [the rest of this page has a huge ink spill in the middle and small child’s drawings of trees and animals around the side]
I’m playing Morrowind now! I only know bits and pieces of what I’ve seen or what @alerkose has taught me, but it’s time to experience it for myself. This is my character, Jadzia💪🏼
It had been too long since I last drew Seht. <3