🪞 Who takes longer getting ready & who hypes the other up in the mirror?
(Let me guess, Ancano takes longer to assemble?😅)
Haha, thanks very much for the Ask, @kauchenoe 🥰
I was surprised when I thought about it!
Quick answer: Ancano gives himself more to do, but overall takes less time about it, because ✨efficiency✨
...Unless he's off-duty and enjoying himself. Then he takes forever and the rest of the world can wait! 🫧🛀
He'll also do the hype.
Rambly version under the cut!
(<- Previous Ask).
So, in the context of right now in their Heartfire-of-201 Skyrim deployment:
Ancano
This silver fox certainly pays attention to appearances. But beyond staying clean and neat, he's un-fussy*, and has a motto of "a place for everything, and everything in its place," which saves a lot of time.
He tends to fill the time waiting for everybody else with unostentatious piety (I hc Altmer religious scholars and Justiciars carry rosary beads, for focus and such. Or maaaybe sometimes for holier-than-thou point-scoring ;3 "Phynaster, Xarxes, Jephre, Auri-El...")
*Er, for an Altmer of means, that is. Some locals might consider the pomade/buffed nails/moisturiser/perfect shave/eye-shadow/immaculate, tailored, enchanted robes etc. etc. a *tad* fussy, I suppose xd
I imagine his "Advisor" title is a sideways shift into a diplomatic role from a paramilitary position. He has seen active duty as a battlemage and will resort to physical violence if his magicka runs out. There is steel under the elegant façade, and he can forgo all the little luxuries (and pretence at civility) and be ready for a scrap instantly if need be.
N.B. Another of his rules is to not interrupt foes when they're underestimating him — in my story, the College Faculty were very close to finding out after fucking around, but luckily he was made to join Ntalym 'cal Llarethiiath's command and hunt for artifacts outside of Winterhold.
It's true he cares more for fashion than Ntalym does, but he's old enough to know what suits him, and doesn't *usually* spend long picking something out.
Not when an outift's already been made, that is.
When at the tailor's and choosing fabrics and linings and trims, however... 🤦♂️
Ntalym
Nat has a shoulder injury he has to take care of, and often starts the day with it locked up, so there's a lot of pained 5am stretching going on. He's also been very ill, and takes longer to wake up properly.
He's the night-owl to Anca's early-bird.
(Ghostly curses aside, Skyrim's climate is a total shock after the ever-Spring of Firsthold, and things are not going well with him).
(^Newly arrived. LOVING the weather. 🥶😡)
Despite the devil-may-care attitude, he is quite as vain as Ancano, and spends no small amount of time on his (regime-approved) golden war-paint, and on putting his hair up just so.
I hc for some Altmer, the concept of time passing can be problematic, and secondary to "perfection". All of which is useful for long-term 4D mind-chess, but less so when something needs doing *NOW*...
He also loses track of where he puts things.
Back home, Clan Llarethiiath places heavy expectations on a second-eldest of the kinlord, and getting dressed to go socialise is a battle-tactic all on its own, so that can take a while, too, due to all the fancy layers and second-guessing. 🙄
-----
Ntalym is more likely to say in actual words how lovely his partner looks (mumbled, while pretending not to have been staring).
Ancano is less about vocal hype and more about touch, and lustful looks — he's an open book when he wants to be, and will make it very clear when he approves of what he sees. 😏🫦
-----
Oh yeah, and they both have bladed weapons to maintain, but Captain Nat's see more direct action and need more maintenance before they're battle-ready.
Morvas: "That's a really stupid sword." N: Isn't it just."
Thanks for the tags, @the-twilight-queen , @honeybeebunny111 , @scribeofskyrim !
Last Song:
Favorite colour: Blue, like it sez on the tin, guv. 💙🦋🧞♂️🌀
Watching: just the rain outside ☔️ (Sometimes I require emergency deadpan satire e.g. Yes, (Prime) Minister; Luottomies, but I prefer to read).
Reading: The Lord of the Rings The UESP Wiki, friends' TES fics on Ao3 🍷😘 Open right now is Demoralize Humanoid by Anxious-Neko (brilliant writing; no surprises who it's about).
Current obsession: *gestures helplessly at the gremlins*
(Ok, Kharjo is probably not a gremlin. LOOKIT dat face.) *^.^*
— Hear me out... Yes, this is Ancano. When I was thinking about him, this was roughly the kind of appearance I imagined. I accidentally described him in formal attire a bit too well, so I decided to draw him in it. Anyway, happy headcanon day and all that.......
«The boy who dreamed of being a servant of the people chose, as an adult, to work for a nationalist party, thereby forever closing off his path to civilian politics. Before that, having completed military training in his youth, he earned a prestigious teaching certification from the Sapiarchs' Collegiate Department, but his knowledge turned out to be useful in the most unexpected place — while serving as a Thalmor agent at the College of Winterhold.
Despite their strained relationship with him due to politics, his parents still hope that Ancano will one day renounce the Thalmor and take up expanding the family shipbuilding company, eventually becoming its owner — but perhaps that is not meant to be»
— And by the way, Ancano was Calthar's teacher and even something more… You can see Calthar's reference card here.
— And I've updated my price list, so you can now commission similar cards for your own characters!
— And- ahem...
Thanks to my friend for the inspiration, and thanks to another friend for translating the character card! 👉👈
I’ve improved a lot since I last drew a portrait of my dear Elivarya, so here she is looking much better. There are still improvements to be made, but I’m pleased with my progress. :3
Rya is my Skyrim-era Alteration / Restoration mage and self-insert. I love her so much~
Saw this on @scribeofskyrim's page and wanted to join in! I've never shared writings before, so no-one would have known to tag me. Afaik, the other game is still live, but I figure this is "two cakes" territory =^.^=
How it works:
⭐️ Pick a 5–8ish letter word and give us an excerpt from your manuscript that begins with each letter!
⭐️ When you're done, tag your friends and give them the same word, or a new one of your choosing!
I choose: SHADOWS, and I'm lifting from "Honour Amongst the Damned" — a short ghost-story that is thinking of being longer?? This bit happens to be from Ancano's point-of-view. Nat is, uh, unavailable.
-----------------------------
S
"Sanyon, go with him."
The pair left without a word, retreating footfalls soon lost in the turbulent weather without.
The house had been strongly haunted when the three Altmer and Morvas had procured it as their base of operations in the plains, and Ancano was certain that the dead had not been laid to rest—
H
He didn't know her name or story. Didn't want to, but often-and-often he'd spied the bitter wraith loitering in the mill, or listening-in during meetings if they didn't drive her off, or yet on dark nights running just above the fields, hair streaming in an otherworldly gale.
Well, the gale was real tonight, and the moons were dark.
A
Always goes to the lungs in your lot, doesn't it, interrupted the voice, sing-song. Drowned in his own blood yet, has he?
"Let me concentrate, hag!" (One more interruption, he told himself, just one mor—)
Oh well, no-one will mourn h—
An electric shock-wave, boosted by cold fury, shredded the taunting spirit to ash, as Ancano saw when he deigned to look.
Grey fragments sparkled, edged with violet, as though in moonlight.
Something fluttered amongst the remains, parchment-like.
...It was parchment...
D
Daedric writing glowed faintly green in the gloom. The wind howled.
Sneering at the smoking heap, the mer stumbled back onto the bed, pulling a candle on the sideboard closer with a hand that shook slightly.
"The ghost was carrying a spell on it," he explained, although he was fairly certain the other couldn't hear him. "Could be a curse, I shan't read it aloud."
To his surprise, the officer's eyes fluttered open for a second.
New leaves on an overcast day, Ancano thought, fondly. Not the most stunning colour ever given to elven-kind — but they're his, and I want to be able to look into them every night, dammit.
O
Ondolemar addressed his bodyguard. "Zenolia, stay by the door. Elanté? Keep an eye on the Bosmer, but don't be a de'nt about it — offer to help."
The soldier disappeared smartly into the cellar, armoured steps muffled.
W
"Which direction?"
"North, sir." (This was Sanyon). "They fluttered down on us—"
Faendal interrupted. "Horses don't flutter, small birds flutter, butterflies—"
The agent glowered at him. "We can speak only MY language, if you prefer, Overseer, and see how well—" he began.
Ancano's luminous stare caught them both a second time.
Sanyon continued the tale:
S
Said Ondolemar, loudly, seemingly to no-one in particular: "You know, suspicion is a fine trait in a Justiciar, but it's colder than an Argonian's arsehole out here and I can't be BELLOWING the passphrase through solid oak, now, can I?!"
Ancano sighed, and glanced back up the stairs, to see the others' faces, pale and tense, in the gloom, watching.
Stay sharp, he mouthed at them.
He shot open the hatch in the door.
After a moment, a haughty green gaze deigned to fill it from the other side.
-----------------------------
No-pressure tagging @anilliscarts @theoneandonlysemla @cresu @chiqita @dark-brotherhoe @rebornflameofthenoldor and anyone else who wants to share!
Your choice of word is either the same, (shadows), or new word, EASTERLY, if you have WIPs and feel like it :3
🔥 What’s the pettiest thing they’ve ever argued about?
🛡️ Who jumps in front of danger for the other without thinking?
🧩 What tiny habit of the other do they find unbearably adorable?
^Adorable Habit #3054: immediately turning into a khajiit around butterflies
Tysm for the Ask, @Beastboost! 🙏💗
I answered these myself, but the gremlins also got to speak up. 😜
This is long!
🔥What's the pettiest thing they've ever argued about?
To Nat and Ancano's credit, they rarely fall out, despite having different ways of doing almost everything. They're both far too old to expect the other to change.
They're quite selfish, but their wants often dovetail, rather than clashing.
That doesn't stop the bickering, however:
> "who had the logbook last", "did you pay a blind goblin to fix that", "that is entirely TOO MUCH FIRE, Nafarion 'cal Llarethiiath!*" ...and so on.
🛡️Who jumps in front of danger for the other without thinking?
These two don't say "I love you" very often.
The world they inhabit is full of political manoeuvring, and talk is cheap. But my favourite thing about them is the soft glances, the actions that speak truer than words, and this is one of those things, because they both do it, and often.
Nat in particular has expended social cachet in Ancano's defense — his clan are extremely powerful, while Ancano's is in disgrace — but he will defend his partner tooth and claw.
That said, even if they were not romantically involved they'd still do this to a degree, because loyalty and fraternité is part of the martial culture of their break-away faction — we can't separate my two from some real nutty zealotry, but the bond that such a niche and extreme ideology creates is adamant.
🧩What tiny habit of the other do they find unbearably adorable?
For Ancano it's a few things: Ntalym's lived everywhere bar Sunhold for a while, but every so often he'll use a really uncommon local word, and have to translate. Even worse when he follows up with something from buttfuck northern Auridon where he's been stationed for a decade. (Alinorians begging for mercy, or for preference, a dictionary).
Also Nat taking his severe ponytail down at the end of the day. He always has to fluff his hair out with a sigh and sort-of sit there with it all *floofed* like a lion's mane, before face-planting the nearest bedroll. He always chucks the leather string somewhere, and then acts surprised when he can't find it right away in the morning.
For Nat? I'd say Ancano's hands when he's writing — he does this thing where he brushes the parchment as though clearing invisible cobwebs before he begins; it's actually part of an anti-forgery spell, and Nat knows this (standard procedure) but for some reason the specific way Ancano does it is enthralling. He has very elegant fingers.
...That or the look he gets when a Cunning Plan has occurred to him — the eyes become extra-luminous and the air of smugness becomes palpable. You'll get rapid blinks and a nose-twitch, followed by the tiniest of smirks.
He also loves his alchemy; dates and labels everything in beautiful looping handwriting; organizes potion cabinets so you can actually see what's in them; and folds anything, even footwraps.
---------------
THEY say:
[The boys are sat on chairs an arm's length apart]
Ancano: I think in the last seventy years I can count...maybe three times we've really...gone at it. (He glances at Nat)
Ntalym: Mm-hmm. (In agreement; his arms are crossed and he looks at the floor, a tiny frown between his eyes.)
A: I would say we are not petty folk.
...Ntalym?
N: Hm? (He shakes his head, eyes still on the floor)
A: What?
N: Oh, nothing. We don't argue, exactly. We... I get snappy and you get catty and do the-the... lip thing and roll your eyes, but "argue" is too strong.
You state your case and then leave well enough alone. I appreciate that.
A: (mock-serious) ..."The lip thing"?
N: (pouts)
A: (half-offended, half-amused)
--
Things you find endearing about the other?
A: (smiling faintly) before bed, when you take the tie out of your hair. And then you throw it somewhere and seem surprised when you can't find it again come daybreak.
N: (smiles ruefully)
A: It's amusing but sometimes very frustrating. (Sing-song) The Party is ready to leave and Captain Ntalym is hunting for a hair-tie. You should have three.
Nat: I DO have three! They keep growing legs—
Ancano: You keep throwing them—
Nat: when we're outside again after a skirmish, you always find a moment to kneel and face Auri-El. 🤲
A: I thank Him for our victory.
N: (kisses him)
A: ...You nuzzle into my neck when you're asleep :3
N: I do??
A: Oh, it's charming so long as you don't drool in my hair or huff in my ear(!)
^Exhibit A, Ladies and Gentlemer
N: (^///^) Speaking of hair. When you're doing alchemy, and that one strand keeps falling in front of your eyes? And you hitch your sleeves up just so (he mimes). You lean on the table while you're waiting, with that...thousand-mile stare? You look gorgeous, by the way, in such pose. I would commission a painting of you this way. (He strokes the other's face).
A: (suddenly grins mischieviously) You know when you're threatening somebody?
N: ..?
A: You exhibit a darling sneer and it's (he whispers) so very arousing?
N: (going red) I-I think we should end this interview here...?
Idk Ancano (and Vingalmo) live rent free in my brain and I needed to doodle one of them before I exploded. I wasn't exactly sure where I was going with this aside from "eye of magnus" and "this fucking dude". Gestures. This is where we end up
For the theme I picked the shadow. In my head cannon Lucien is born under the shadow as well as Elyonne.
Elyonne like Lucien does have stars in the shape of the constellation going across her body but you can't see them from this angle.
I wanted to incorporate the shrouded armour and black hand robes into these outfit so for the shrouded armour I used the purple that the female one has. Then I took the blood stained look the original black hand robes have for Lucien's outfit. I had to pop in some handprints of course. The gold crest is a gold version of the speaker symbol.
I tried to put Lucien's hood up but I hate drawing his hood and I kept failing so I gave up for my own sanity.
[Below is an in-universe Familial Padomaist fable, used to explain the role of vampires within the Dark Brotherhood.]
It is said that in the Brotherhood’s early days, there lived the pious assassin Domitius, whose heart was ever-blackened and whose hands were always bloodied. Domitius toiled away to ferry souls to the Void throughout his life, and his own time finally arrived when he failed to best a target in combat. Domitius fought valiantly, but accepted his demise with humility and acceptance.
“Alas, though I cannot deliver this soul to my Father, it is fated that mine go in their stead - it is a blessing to have lived a life in devotion and received my end,” he thought, as his target prepared the final blow. But amidst the struggle, their flowing blood mixed, and Domitius became infected with something unnatural as he passed into Void’s embrace.
When he arrived at the threshold of his final home, Domitius could sense something was wrong. For he remained suspended just above the Nothing Behind The World, hung from his chest by a painful and stubborn hook whose other end remained Anchored in existence. He found his soul had become like oil, whereas the Void was like water. He could not break apart into the swirling abyss no matter how much he wanted to, no matter how much the Void lapped at his edges to erode him. In agony, he cried out unto Sithis:
“Oh, Dread Father! I have come home to thee, but something holds me in place, has cursed me with everlasting form! I pray thee, wouldst thou cut me from it, so I may rest with my Family below?”
Sithis, an ever-watchful parent, heard his child’s cry and drew near. He pulled a shape from the eternal nothing with which to greet Domitius: he stretched skin and sinew across many rattling bones, grew endlessly deep eyes, and split into a gaping snake maw. His voice was the sound of rushing wind through deep caverns, of floodwaters overwhelming a dam.
“My child, why dost thou cry out so?” Sithis asked. But before Domitius could answer, Sithis could see what the problem was. Something Anchored his child, and would not let the Nothing consume the soul properly. He moved yet closer to examine, but then recoiled.
“Vile coagulant of Bal! Not yet dead, but no longer alive - trapped between! A Schemer plays such foul tricks on my children!” Sithis lamented. He could not yet cut Domitius free, for the tether repelled his Void. He reassured his poor child as best as he could. “Though thou art afflicted with stagnation, thou remain my son, and I carry love for thee. Thou must go forth again, but as Undead. When thy befouled Anchor rusts and weakens once more, I shall sunder thy soul properly. But rest assured, child; no Daedra can keep thee from my grasp for long. Thou shalt find no restless eternity in Coldharbour so long as thou honors my name.”
Domitius became invigorated in spite of such sad news. “Then I go with thy blessing, Dread Father. I will take this affliction and turn it to a Dark Gift instead, with which I shall spill blood for thee. I will only share this Dark Gift with those who are worthy. I vow to return one day.”
Sithis was proud. He lifted Domitius with many hands and placed him back into the world.
And Domitius did as he said he would do: with the Dark Gift, he worshiped and taught for centuries longer; and he only bestowed the same Gift to Siblings who understood the responsible use of such a tool. To possess the Dark Gift was not a gift to oneself, but a gift to Family still living. It was a selfless postponement of one's final rest to instead remain committed in unholy service.
The time came for Domitius to return home a second time. He bade his Listener to plunge Blade of Woe into his chest. When Domitius fell into the Void again, Sithis did as he said he would do: he broke apart the Anchor's chain, then lovingly dismantled his child’s soul, allowing it to dissolve freely into Nothing with him.
And so, as it is said - vampires and other such anomalies have been bestowed a serious responsibility. One must use their Dark Gift wisely and in service to Sithis. Do not let temptation for permanence cause you to falter, for you must never forget where your true home lay.
dedicated Skyrim silliness @blue-dartwing - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
