@its-daisukenojobito told me to do my version and well. Who am I to turn down the opportunity to draw more Sheomartin. Also enjoy the faceless version below !
Thinking about how HOK turned into an immortal daedric prince (which is bad enough, knowing you have to live forever without your lover) & then going to Skyrim years later only for it to be overrun with Dragons.
Re-Playing oblivion right now and I have a glitch(?) where martin just keeps punching people instead of doing anything else like his spells or dagger and its so fucking funny
Go old man go!! Punch that heavily armored bandit!!!
Listen, first and foremost Martin calls every one of the Blades by their first name and thanks them profusely. He also has a detailed list of all of their birthdays and when they first joined the ranks.
He’s got a soft spot for animals, from the largest Imperial steeds, to the smallest chipmunk. Martin has been known (and scolded for) helping the stable hands care for the horses and livestock. He says it keeps him grounded.
Martin has also been known to leave dishes of food out for stray animals, and he is an avid cat person.
In his life before becoming a clergyman, Martin was 100% a stoner. He got caught growing “recreational herbs” as a teenager on his father’s farm, and may have made a killing as a scholar during his time at the guild selling ‘herbs’. He quit smoking and drinking very shortly after leaving Sanguine’s cult.
Martin writes poetry in his spare time, usually when he can’t get his mind off of something (or someone). He once wrote a poem for and against Mehrunes Dagon in the same stanza.
Even before his time with Sanguine, Martin…got around so to speak. He always acted like it never meant anything, even if he secretly wanted it to. Martin was never one for a casual hookup
His time in Sanguine’s cult was less about partying, or even knowledge…it was more about having control. After spending his early life on a farm mucking stalls and growing wheat, then going to the rigidity of the Mage’s College, he began to feel like his world was closing in on him.
Has an incredibly soft spot for being touched gently: you gently massage the back of his head? He needs five minutes to collect himself. You hold his jaw while you’re kissing him? He forgets how to breathe. A kiss to his temple after a long night of reading? He absolutely melts. He absolutely tries to deny it.
The word Casual isn’t in Martin’s vocabulary; everything he’s ever done is done with purpose. The way he makes his tea a bit too strong and bitter in the morning? He needs it that way so he can be alert. You’re sad? He would die a thousand deaths to see your smile again.
He absolutely thinks that hand holding is more intimate than sex; god forbid you’re caught with your fingers interlaced in public!
Martin is so emotionally repressed that when he’s finally allowed himself to be intimate with you, it becomes an act of worship. With you, Martin is careful; he’s gentle in a way that surprises even him. He used to throw himself into pleasure recklessly. But with you? He slows down. He’s incredibly intentional. He touches you like he’s trying not to break anything, like every sound you make pulls him further out of who he used to be.
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