dreamer.

ma'ridhinna, a khajiit assassin in skyrim; independent tes oc

[maridhinna]

sup who remembers m,e

[maridhinna]

hiatus

idk when i will be back. hopefully i will be, but at this pointi do not think i have the motivation to continue here.

[maridhinna]

FREI --- GOOD KIND FRIEND.

“And I am glad she let me heal her, instead of running off to get the bounty,” Frei replied after another wrapping.·“The money can wait, I think. We must get our strength back, to make the journey.” No one would take it from them, because they had killed the bandit first. No one else had the proof that they did.·

Now that Frei had begun to think of her time under the bandits’s control, she found she was having a difficult time stopping. Her heart was still racing, and she couldn’t keep her hands from shaking. But she couldn’t afford to fall apart. Not here, not now. Ma’Ridhinna was injured, and depending on her. Falling apart wasn’t an option. She glanced down at the bottles. Neither were they.·Skooma was a bandit’s drug, and Frei was no bandit.

Frei finished wrapping Ma'Ridhinna’s arm and sat back, flattening her skirt for something to do with her hands. She glanced once more at the bodies across the room, fearing that they might come alive again and take her. But that was impossible. She was thinkig irrationally, because of this silly anxiety. Frei looked at Ma'Ridhinna, who had a glazed, happy expression on her face. Frei envied her. “How do you feel?”

She feels really good, actually. She hadn't expected this happiness to come so quickly. Divines bless bandits for having skooma! Otherwise, she'd have had to rush through the whole crypt, kill them all, and then struggle back trembling, shake as she got the money, and crawl to the caravans to buy her skooma, all the time with insects crawling in her skin. But now that all feels very far away. There is a cathedral encasing her and she only sees the outside world through coloured stained glass, hazy.

''Ma'Ridhinna is very happy,'' she babbles gleefully. Why would she lie? She can trust Frei, and Frei doesn't look like she needs Ma'Ridhinna to lie and spare her feelings. Oh --- perhaps a little jealousy, is that why she doesn't look quite so relaxed? Well, if she says no to skooma and is still jealous, then that's Frei's problem, and she won't make her drink any.

And a moment passes before she remembers the polite thing to do. She had been distracted before by the rhythm of Frei's movements, but now there is nothing to fixate on and she finds herself floating. Finally --- ''And how is Frei? Will she be well enough to make the journey soon?''

[maridhinna]

FREI --- GOOD KIND FRIEND.

“And I am glad she let me heal her, instead of running off to get the bounty,” Frei replied after another wrapping.·“The money can wait, I think. We must get our strength back, to make the journey.” No one would take it from them, because they had killed the bandit first. No one else had the proof that they did.·

Now that Frei had begun to think of her time under the bandits’s control, she found she was having a difficult time stopping. Her heart was still racing, and she couldn’t keep her hands from shaking. But she couldn’t afford to fall apart. Not here, not now. Ma’Ridhinna was injured, and depending on her. Falling apart wasn’t an option. She glanced down at the bottles. Neither were they.·Skooma was a bandit’s drug, and Frei was no bandit.

Frei finished wrapping Ma'Ridhinna’s arm and sat back, flattening her skirt for something to do with her hands. She glanced once more at the bodies across the room, fearing that they might come alive again and take her. But that was impossible. She was thinkig irrationally, because of this silly anxiety. Frei looked at Ma'Ridhinna, who had a glazed, happy expression on her face. Frei envied her. “How do you feel?”

She feels really good, actually. She hadn't expected this happiness to come so quickly. Divines bless bandits for having skooma! Otherwise, she'd have had to rush through the whole crypt, kill them all, and then struggle back trembling, shake as she got the money, and crawl to the caravans to buy her skooma, all the time with insects crawling in her skin. But now that all feels very far away. There is a cathedral encasing her and she only sees the outside world through coloured stained glass, hazy.

''Ma'Ridhinna is very happy,'' she babbles gleefully. Why would she lie? She can trust Frei, and Frei doesn't look like she needs Ma'Ridhinna to lie and spare her feelings. Oh --- perhaps a little jealousy, is that why she doesn't look quite so relaxed? Well, if she says no to skooma and is still jealous, then that's Frei's problem, and she won't make her drink any.

And a moment passes before she remembers the polite thing to do. She had been distracted before by the rhythm of Frei's movements, but now there is nothing to fixate on and she finds herself floating. Finally --- ''And how is Frei? Will she be well enough to make the journey soon?''

[maridhinna]

ELONA

     “— 𝔗hat’s it!” The Argonian’s smile only widens at the sight of it, teeth bared in a huge grin. “𝔑ow, let’s try using it. Imagine one of the dummies against the wall is an enemy: someone who wants to harm you. Someone who has done you wrong. Imagine the flame shooting from your hand, like you’re throwing all of your anger at this person. Set them ALIGHT.”

     She moves her hand away, dispersing her own spell & taking a single step back. “𝔜ou can do this, Ma’Ridhinna. Don’t get discouraged. Don’t let anything stop you!” There’s a pause that follows before, as an afterthought, “𝔍ust think: they’ll let you into the College. Once you show them your mastery over Destruction, they’ll HAVE to let you join!”

     It is so hard to decide who to BURN! She's excited by the encouragement, more of a fire blazing in her heart than on her hand for now. Her tail and ears twitch. The little candle-flame has flickered out now, as the heat from Elona's own flame had dissipates, but she can do it better! Ma'Ridhinna has worked herself up into an energetic, grinning frenzy. The kind of frenzy with such a wide purpose that she comes against a wall almost immediately.

     Who to imagine? The dummy flashes in her imagination between sharp images, furry arms and bare arms, tails both lizard and cat, Ilendir's narrow features, Dar'ssi's flat face, Skjalfa, the bandits she had fought with Frei, Frei, Ma'Ridhinna herself, and now she gives up on settling her flightly mind on one person, and flings FIRE at the blank dummy.

[anhelans-blog]

morrowind-style about theme

have you always wanted to represent your character with morrowind’s interface….. except on tumblr? well now you can!

live preview here! code here!

please like or reblog if you use it, if you have any questions about the code feel free to ask, please do not delete the credit this took forever, please enjoy!

[maridhinna]

apology for blessings-of-mara

as some of you already know, i am the person behind blessings-of-mara. the blog was intended to spread positivity but lbr: it didnt work and im really sorry.

first of all, the drama over a request to delete a confession. i should never have made this public knowledge in the first place, because it must have hurt the person who requested. it also angered many others that i made a rash decision and didnt take time to consider the effects.

i havent been as motivated to update the blog as i should have been and a lot of people have sent in disappointed messages. to the point where i cant bear to even look at the inbox because it’s two-thirds requests for posts i dont have the energy to create, one third people expressing how the blog has let them down.

ive tried to fix this the best way i can, by asking for people to become new mods for the blog, but until i can find new mods i can’t really do much else but apologise for how the blog frustrated and disappointed so many people.

[maridhinna]

FREI!!!

Frei couldn’t help but stare. So, maybe this wasn’t what she had thought it was. Maybe … maybe Ma’Ridhinna didn’t actually love her in the romantic sense, and maybe she in turn didn’t love Ma’Ridhinna like that, either. There were so many kinds of love, and Frei didn’t know exactly which one she felt for her friend, but she knew that she cared for her, so perhaps that could be enough.

“Frei- I love you too, Ma’Ri,” she said, then paused, trying to form words in her addled mind. Her mouth opened and closed a few times, like a fish’s.

“I love you too.”

''Ma'Ridhinna loves her so much,'' her voice is light, dizzy; she feels shiny as a new knife. Like sunlight. Usually it takes her a lot more skooma to feel like this. The evening is dim and only brightened by the little bowls of fire. Ma'Ridhinna leans on the rim of the bowl and catches the flames in her eyes.

But it's so difficult to put it into words. Everything she's said so far sounds far too simple. Why can't she just share her mind with Frei? She feels bad for the other Khajiit not understanding Ta'agra. It would be so much easier to explain, and then Frei wouldn't be so worried about slipping into third person, she'd be used to it. When Frei says her own name, Ma'Ridhinna is oddly proud of her. ''She doesn't know how to say this. It is like a sister, but not? It is like --- once, she knew an elf man, and loved him. It felt like this. Ma'Ridhinna doesn't love Frei like she would love a man, of course! But that is what it feels most like.''

[frei-my-dear-deactivated2015122]

✎ if u want !

[wordsnquotes]

I want something else. I’m not even sure what to call it anymore except I know it feels roomy and it’s drenched in sunlight and it’s weightless…

Mark Z. Danielewski, House of Leaves  (via wordsnquotes)

[nethyn-deactivated20160907]

Untimely Guests [OPEN]

[maridhinna]

SCARRED PATIENT.

Nethyn manages a brief, amused chuckle. “If this is happy, I don’t want to see upset.” His shoulders heave upwards. When was the last time he talked so much? It’s a strain at this point, but Ma'Ridhinna wants either conversation or a rock. He isn’t a very good rock. “The world’s not that bad. Really.” And he would know. Being bedbound for about a week gives one plenty of time to think, and he has had a lot to think about. “Hurts everyone just the same. You’re nothing special.”

“About a week, though,” he tells her. “Probably’ll be here for longer. You, I’m not sure.”

She is special, though. And he's just rude. ''The Dunmer doesn't understand how much the world hurts Ma'Ridhinna, though, and how little she deserves it,'' she says with a small, bitter laugh of her own.

His voice sounds like it's strained from how much he's talking. Ma'Ridhinna doesn't mind talking more, so he won't have to. ''That is a long time to have to stay here and be sick,'' she muses. ''Ma'Ridhinna hopes she will not have to stay here longer than a few days. How much does Ev charge to let someone stay here and heal them? This one doesn't have enough coin to even eat --- it is the only reason she is here.''

[maridhinna]

ELONA.

     — To see even a TINY spark flicker in Ma’Ridhinna’s grip is enough to give the Argonian a reason to smile. “𝓘 knew you could do it!” she chirped, clapping her hands together. “𝔎eep at it: soon it’ll grow from a tiny spark to a raging fireball. The school of Destruction is the hardest to learn. If you can master it, there’s nothing you can’t do!”

     Elona lights a Fireball in her own hand, holding it over the Khajiit’s once more. To anyone else, it would seem like she was trying to pass the spell to Ma’Ridhinna - but what she’s really trying to do is help the other. “𝔉ocus. I want you to imagine this fireball in YOUR hand. I want you to keep your attention on that; ignore anything else. I have faith in you - I know you can do this!”

          Ma'Ridhinna doesn't think anyone has said that kind of thing to her for at least a year. She doesn't think anyone has meant it for even longer. She isn't quite sure how much to believe Elona, but she wants to, desperately. The only other person who believes in her is Frei, who she hasn't seen since the bandit camp, and who hadn't really needed to encourage her much.

          The anger fades. The Khajiit grins too wide at Elona, feels the warmth of the Argonian's fire on her fingertips. She tries to imagine it crossing over into her own palm, the warmth so much it would be like her own sun, and she would cast fireballs at every single enemy she had, and she would never be cold again!

          It is easier now. The tiny candle-like flame bursts into life again. Ma'Ridhinna squeals in pure delight.

[maridhinna]

FREI --- GOOD KIND FRIEND.

Frei wondered if Ma’Ridhinna really did understand, or if she was just saying so. How could she understand? Frei had not told her of her past, had not told her of the rough hands and rough voices. She had not told her of her experience with the drug that had given her captors the daring to rape a cat. Frei’s hands shook slightly, and she glanced from the corner of her eye at the dead bodies a short distance away. She forced herself to breathe deeply, but when she looked at Ma’Ridhinna again, her breath left her. 

Ma’Ridhinna was sitting casually, as if she hadn’t just bared her chest to a stranger. Frei looked down at the linen strips in her lap, her hackles raising in embarrassed discomfort. “Yes-” She braced herself, shifting closer to Ma’Ridhinna and quickly looking up, focusing only on Ma’Ridhinna’s shoulder. She parted the fur by the wound. ”I think it should only take a few weeks to heal, unless you can find someone who knows a healing spell.” She glanced at Ma’Ridhinna’s face, then averted her gaze in embarrassment.

She put a hand on Ma’Ridhinna’s upper back and gently pulled her away from the wall, then used the same hand to hold one end of a strip in place on the other woman’s shoulder. Frei wrapped Ma’Ridhinna’s torso, from her shoulder, under her arm, around her back, under her other arm … slipping into a mindless rhythm. 

Ma’Ridhinna does, on some level, recognise Frei’s anxiety. Her hands are shaking, and her breath is uneven. The other bottle of skooma is still available, though, and it would clearly help her friend calm down a little. She nudges it towards her as she approaches.

Is it the wound making Frei nervous? Perhaps she hasn’t been a healer for long, and maybe that’s why she says it will take so long to heal. Or maybe it’s the fact that Ma’Ridhinna’s sides are exposed? Back in Elsweyr, the sides of the torso had been almost the most suggestive part of the body. She remembers prostitutes who didn’t wear budis; they wore tabards loose over their shoulders that swayed when they walked, showing their sides in short glimpses. She grows uncomfortable thinking about acting like one of them, and holds the fabric over her uninjured side. Has to drop it again, though, once Frei starts wrapping.

It still hurts a little whenever the wound is jostled, but now Ma’Ridhinna doesn’t really care. She can ignore the pain. What use is focusing on pain when she could focus on how wonderfully light she feels? She is almost a dead weight as Frei pulls her from the wall. ''Thank you,'' she mutters, as it’s probably the only first-person phrase that’s burned its way into her brain enough for Ma’Ridhinna to remember quite effortlessly, every time the wrapping reaches her shoulder and goes back around, ''Ma’Ridhinna is so grateful for her friend healing her.''

[nethyn-deactivated20160907]

Untimely Guests [OPEN]

[maridhinna]

SCARRED PATIENT.

“No.” Biting down on the inside of his cheek, Nethyn brings a hand up to his face and touches the scar on his lip. “They were too bad to fix right. Don’t talk about it to her. She’s beating herself up about it.” He doesn’t sound too happy, either.

Ma'Ridhinna is her name, then? His immediate thought is that she’s lying, but she sounds like a Khajiit. “Nords are like dogs. Any excuse to chase,” he says. At least in Morrowind the Khajiit were allowed into cities (though sometimes under less than desirable circumstances, he would know), but Skyrim seems to be much more… socially underdeveloped? He wants to say that. That sounds accurate.

There’s a pleasant scent coming from outside the room, but it makes Nethyn’s stomach turn. Soup, most likely. From what he can tell, it’s nothing major – Evesaes doesn’t particularly like the risks that come with immediately re-introducing solid food after a patient’s been sick, and he knows this.  

No doubt she’ll try to get him to have some, and he’ll try, maybe get something down today. He just doesn’t have the energy, mental or emotional. He knows how upset it makes her, but can he help it? Can he change it? No.

Ma'Ridhinna can smell something savoury from the next room. Is she finally going to get to eat? It feels like forever since that last bite of salmon. Hunger throbs in her stomach like it is clinging to the pain in her side.

She won't mention the scars again, then, now he's so obviously touchy about it. Maybe to Ev, though, since she doesn't want that kind of devastation on her own skin. Even if the scarred patient doesn't want Ma'Ridhinna to talk about it to her, it's worth it. Anyway, she thinks with sudden spite, she deserves to be upset if she leaves the Khajiit all ripped up like that with barely anything to dull the soreness

''It isn't just Nords. It is everyone. Ma'Ridhinna hates this world. The world likes to hurt Ma'Ridhinna even when she tries her best to be nice to people and spread happiness!'' She takes a short sip of the medicine and swallows quickly. It is unpleasantly thin in the back of her throat and the taste lingers. How dare they not give her back her skooma! Not that she needs it --- she would just like to have it with her. Keep it safe.

''How long has the Dunmer been here? Ma'Ridhinna wants be able to leave before it is too expensive to pay Ev for all the time she has to stay,''

[nethyn-deactivated20160907]

Untimely Guests [OPEN]

[maridhinna]

SCARRED PATIENT.

“Ev’s quick,” he says, and he shakes his head – it doesn’t hurt anymore. It’s a dull sting, a throbbing in his face that is like background noise now. “Known ‘er a long time.” It hurts more to talk than anything. He hasn’t used his voice in a long time. “She’s quick.”

The door does open, but it’s Volaris behind it, not Evesaes. She puts a bottle of something pink down near Ma'Ridhinna and leaves at the request of a voice calling out from elsewhere in the house. She seems nervous.

It was a momentary reprieve for Nethyn, to let him think of a reason that wasn’t 'I did it’. ·He hasn’t quite yet, but he pulls the blanket up over his shoulders to stall a little longer. It takes energy, and he has to wait for it to return.·

·"An accident.“ There, that’s good.

Ev! So that must be the name of the healer. The healer who, apparently, isn't good enough to heal the scars of someone she's known a very long time. Ma'Ridhinna isn't optimistic about how she'll look after leaving.

And then she gets her skooma back and so it doesn't really matter any more. It's been put into a different bottle. The Khajiit doesn't really need any yet, she's had some recently enough that she won't shake for a while, but she still reaches out to it, holds it up to the sunlight. It's more beautiful than normal. The light makes it shine a bright purple. She hardly notices that the patient has fallen silent. It wouldn't hurt to drink just a little, so that's what she does. And is disappointed --- it isn't her skooma. It must be the medicine. Ma'Ridhinna stares death into the door Volaris had disappeared behind, and sulks quietly as the patient shifts under his blankets, apparently preparing to speak.

When he does, she drinks a little more of the medicine. It's easier to ignore the taste then.

''That must have been frustrating. At least this one has someone to blame.'' And she notices he hasn't answered her first question. Or perhaps he means Ev would be too quick to let that happen. ''It is the guards! They saw Ma'Ridhinna and she tried to be nice to them, said good morning to the guards, and they decided to chase her through the forest and try to shoot her with their arrows. She came here because she knows Ev, too, and she knew Ev would help her! Does she usually leave so many scars?''

[maridhinna]

FREI!!!

Frei blinked at her friend- her best friend. “What are you saying? I don’t … understand …” Except, she did. Almost. Frei had known Ma’Ri for many months now, had shared many moments with her. She knew Ma’Ri, knew her personality and her habits, both healthy and not so healthy. She was sure that Ma’Ri cared about her, and that she cared for Ma’Ri in return.

But this, she wasn’t sure of.

Frei let go of the amulet and crossed her arms over her chest, hunching her shoulders. Emotions warred in her for attention. She felt a certain lightness as she gazed at the other woman, and yet also a kind of fear. It almost felt like dread.

And Ma'Ridhinna can admit she doesn't quite understand either. She thinks of how Ilendir had made her feel, the deep anxiety welling up in her, the constant showing off around him, the desperate flirting and the nicknames from him - kitten, kid, toy. No, this is warmer than that; she knows Frei so much better, sees so much of herself in the other woman.

And it isn't love, not like with Ilendir, because Frei is a woman and so it isn't possible.Not like her sister either, because Ma'Ridhinna had looked after Sivarra like she was her own child, but mostly it's Frei who cares for Ma'Ri. She doesn't quite know how to comfort her friend, now that she's withdrawing herself, putting her arms up like barriers.

''She is saying that she loves Frei very much, as if Frei shared her own blood.''

[nethyn-deactivated20160907]

Untimely Guests [OPEN]

[maridhinna]

SCARRED PATIENT.

Saints, she’s in deep. And Evesaes does not use that exclamation often – that’s practically a relic from her childhood. “Can’t let you do that, hon.” She stands, carefully to make sure Nethyn isn’t jostled. “I’ll be right outside the door if you need me, alright?”

When she leaves, Nethyn shudders with a rattling sigh. Hearing Evesaes leave isn’t something he likes to do; he almost feels better with her around. He’s never seen a vampire so full of life.

It’s a struggle to get his head up, just a little more up on the pillow, but regardless of that he tries to give whomever she was talking with a smile. His lips are dry, eyes vague and unfocused, but he’s almost a little proud of himself for moving on his own. “Hey,” he breathes.

That’s scary. He sounds nothing like himself, or what he’s come to hear as himself – he hears the rasp and creak of lungs damaged by ash, the deep feminine tone that he hates so much even now. But he’s speaking. He can. Evesaes won’t hear it, but he can. The woman’s voice in the other bed can.

She's still a little drowsy, but now knows the pain will probably stop her from sleeping. If only she was allowed her skooma, or some alcohol, or that rag. Ma'Ridhinna watches the healer leave and hopes she is only getting out so that she can come back with something for Ma'Ridhinna to eat. For now there is nothing that she can do but nestle into her blankets.

And then a voice like a scraping of wood. She turns, startled --- hadn't expected the other Dunmer to talk --- and is even more startled once she sees his face. Her face? The voice is ambiguous. The face, too, all scrawled out in white ridged scars, and she winces on instinct. It's like whole slices of the skin have been removed. Another patient, she supposes, but how bad must her own wounds be? The Khajiit glances down to her own bandages as if she'll look through them and see her own body crossed with scars.

''Hello,'' she greets the stranger hesitantly, making a quick decision, ''the Dunmer's face, is it painful? If the healer brings the rag so it won't hurt, will they let Ma'Ridhinna use it in secret?'' More confident now, the words spilling out loudly, without her caring enough to quiet down. It is nice to have someone to complain to. ''The lady says she will give Ma'Ridhinna medicine soon but it hurts now! The Dunmer looks like it hurts, too. Why is the face like that?''