TDI outline has me in its grip (a good thing!) so I’ve been drawing the characters that are being featured based on where I’m at in the outline rn
Took another stab at Estormo, decided he worked best in the story if he remained older. Just decided to keep the goatee while I was at it. His hair is so dumb <3
And Miraak can’t eat or drink but he likes to hold hot cups of tea to feel the warmth through his gloves
Malborn <333 I will not rest until every Bosmer has antlers so I gave him antlers. I’m also making him a bard in my fic to fit in better with the story! I drew him with a flute here but have since changed his instrument of choice to an ocarina thanks to @bforblitz :]
And a Sam and Ataf <3 tbh I wasn’t super happy with either of these but at least they’re cute. I need to take another stab at Ataf’s design, it’s just not clicking for me here. I think I made him too androgynous in an attempt to draw him young(er than how Skyrim portrays him)
i really enjoyed how this scene turned out from my longfic, so i thought i'd just post it here for ppl to read if they want. enjoy! <3
For the next several minutes, Athenath stood close to his companions as Viarmo rambled on and on about tradition, about the spirit of Solitude, history, all things which fell onto uncaring ears. Phoebe, behind her desk and under her plumed cap, gave the trio a sheepish smile while she listened and recorded the words spoken among the courtiers and the headmaster, her hands a flurry across the scroll which seemed near-never ending in her lap. Athenath would occasionally glance to Emeros or Wyndrelis, and do their best to keep their posture tall instead of shrinking into themself.
"Jarl Elisif, you know as well as I do that the Burning of King Olaf is tradition in Solitude. What's a city in the midst of war without its traditions to keep its residents in good spirits?"
"Viarmo," Elisif breathed as she rested her head in the crook of her thumb, rubbing gingerly at the ridge of her brow, "we have had this discussion before. It's simply too inappropriate with the death of my husband to reinstate the festival now."
"Your Grace,"-Viarmo gestured a sweeping hand to the students lined at his side, in such a neat row it could almost be taken for part of a performance-"I merely implore you to think about the prospective bards in the situation. Not only has this festival been held since time immemorial, but the bards that this festival exists for inducting as full-fledged members of the college are unable to take part in their rightful festivities. These three," he moved his hand, bringing to sweep along the air where Emeros, Athenath, and Wyndrelis stood, "are brand new to the college, and taking part in the festival is a rite of passage to the new students! And as you know, Ataf," he moved to gesture to the plume-hatted man, who gave a nervous wave of his fingers, "was set to be inducted as a fully-recognized bard! And Jorn," he gestured to the Nord, who puffed out his chest with pride, "was in charge of this year's effigy! That's a prestigious honor, and we at the College would implore you to reconsider."
"Headmaster Viarmo," Falk hardened his words in his throat, words enunciated with a sharpness of warning, "we understand your wishes to reinstate the festival, we truly do. Not only is it most inappropriate during the period of our Lady's grieving, but in such times of war as this, you would have us let our guard down for one night?"
The room clenched in silence, the air tight and hard to gather into full breaths. Athenath's gaze struggled to find a focus, slipping quick from the visages of fellow bards to the members of the court, his hands lightly taken by tremor. Breathe, deep and slow, they pushed and pulled air like waves as Viarmo scoffed.
"There are plenty of guards who would still keep our city safe, so our residents could rest a moment at ease. This could even serve to boost morale, if you'd let it."
"Enough," Jarl Elisif's word left Viarmo scrambling for something else to say, her voice hinting at the drain this conversation put on her as the edges of her speech drooped and wilted like dying flowers. "I understand how much this festival means to you, Viarmo, but High King Torygg-"
"Was an enormous supporter of the arts, a continuous and reliable patron of our College, and friend to myself and several other members. Would it not be an insult to his memory to push away the very festival he cherished so?"
Athenath swallowed tightly as Elisif's weary gaze flitted between the faces of the students, then to Viarmo.
"Headmaster, I believe it's time you go. I will give it some thought. You are right in this regard, my husband was always thrilled at the festival's occurance every year, but this is not the time to be discussing such matters."
Viarmo floundered for more to say, his brow tight and lowered, his hand raised as though he were attempting to point at some spectre behind the Jarl, but at the measured pace of her housecarl who inched closer in his heavy armor, Viarmo blew a breath out between loose lips and scrubbed his face with his palm.
"Thank you for your time, Your Grace."
He gave a flourishing bow, the feather in his cap bending with the motion, velvet cape pouring over his shoulders like a velvet waterfall. As he rose, he turned on his heel, gesturing for his students to follow him. Emeros looked down at Athenath and arched a brow, the Altmer shrugging as he turned to Wyndrelis, who similarly wore a look of subdued confusion at the rapid change in the headmaster's attitude. One moment he was ready to stand up for the festival, and all it represented, and the next...
The moment the group had exited the Blue Palace, Viarmo gave a long and heavy, near-dramatic sigh. "Well, we'll just have to see what Giraud comes up with. Great work, everyone, perhaps she will give it some thought with having seen you all there."
Athenath had his doubts. How could just laying eyes upon some of the students make the Jarl change her mind? They raked their long fingers through their curls, shedding more glances to the uncomfortably grimacing faces of the other students. Clearly, this had gone even worse than anyone anticipated, and Viarmo's disappointment visibly scurried itself up his shoulders. Normally so high and poised, his body slumped in on itself as he lead the way back to the ancient college.
"Fear not," he turned to face his students, who stopped in their tracks, "while we may not be able to put on the Burning of King Olaf yet, that does not mean our sacred festival is doomed to obscurity. We'll simply have to be patient. Ataf, Jorn, I apologize if your induction will be later than usual."
Ataf waved a hand, his face still bearing the hallmarks of his own discomfort, a twitched and upwards-curled lip and furrowed brow, eyes never quite meeting anyone else's face. "I'm not too worried. It just means I can spend more time on my studies."
Viarmo gave a nod of agreement. Maybe he truly did believe the excuse, but Athenath knew that sort of phrasing anywhere; something he'd used himself in different times, a brushing off of concerns just to placate whoever stood before them. Either way, the older Altmer said that they should head back to the college, and he'd work on his next appeal in a week or two. Whether this would include him marching the students back to the Blue Palace, Athenath didn't know, and he sincerely hoped it would exclude them this time.
Continuing a string of seven posts, here we see the westbound Amtrak Southwest Chief near the summit of Raton Pass.
I believe these images were taken right at Uncle Dick Wootoon’s Ranch—the man who owned the strategic piece of land when the ATSF first came through here in 1878; the railroad supplanted the wagon road that Uncle Dick had built.
Three images by Richard Koenig; taken October 29th 2018.
Hi everyone! I FINALLY came up with some new content for y’all and it only took me an actual trip to Italy to come up with an idea.
I went to Florence for the last two weeks, and I rode the bus literally everywhere, so I thought I’d make a thing about it.
This is just my experience as a total tourist, please don’t take it personally if I messed something up or forgot something this is just all the vocab I used to survive on the bus system. This is also only in Florence so if it’s different in other parts of Italy I have no clue
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FIRS Boss Tasks African Govts. on Effective Tax Revenue Utilisation
FIRS Boss Tasks African Govts. on Effective Tax Revenue Utilisation
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