#dyslexicdaedra

[enkikiwi]

@anovisxllando @dyslexic-daedra || plotted thread

          Mercer Frey didn’t usually deal in people. They just left more loose ends he would have to tie up later once he put his plan to leave the Guild in action. But this was too good of a chance to pass up. Certain sources he’d been in contact with informed him that there was a living Snow Elf somewhere in Skyrim. It wasn’t the information he was looking for; in fact, he was trying to find the Eyes of the Falmer. But it was still interesting. Perhaps this Elf could make him a bit of extra gold.

          Karliah was slowly making calculated moves against him. So, if he wanted that extra gold before he left, he would have to do this now. There were Thalmor ambassadors in Skyrim--wretched snobbish Elves, really--that were looking to claim that the Dominion had the support of every race in order to put someone in the Imperial Palace. One of them, a Mer named Ancano, was relatively secretive in his position at the College of Winterhold. He would have to be Mercer’s client in this deal.

          The man grunted as he adjusted the sack draped over his back. The Snow Elf was tiny and light, but Mercer was getting a bit too old to carry anything that was wiggling so much. He hated the cold and usually did anything to avoid going north for any of his contracts. But that would keep eyes off of him for this, right?

          Of course the Thalmor wanted to meet him in the Midden under the college. Maybe he thought Mercer would feel at home there. Actually, scratch that. Maybe he thought he could cover the scent of Riften’s cistern with the smell of frozen refuse and decay. He grunts as he sets the sack down on the stone floor, beginning his wait for the Altmer.

          Later that day, an unsigned note would be delivered to Talasse’s office. It was written in a code he’d taught the few college students he entrusted as his ‘spies’, and it spoke of a strange man in leather armor meeting with Ancano in the Midden.

[dawnguardxd]

@dyslexic-daedra

Solurion huffed, watching his breath make a small cloud in front of his face, the condensation already beginning to form small icicles in his beard. How these mages were able to stand such a wretched environment he would never understand. He gave the Head Wizard-- a strong-willed Breton woman--  a tight, close-lipped smile before taking his leave to the slightly warmer main building. He hummed to himself thoughtfully, walking with one hand running along the ancient stone wall, the other holding his staff to the ground to help him navigate. 

When Florentius Baeneus had suggested he ‘update his techniques’, Solurion had thought the Imperial would do the teaching. Instead, he was told to go to a temple; a temple that, if they took their vows literally, would have been forced to kill him on sight. After much searching, the vampire found the College of Winterhold. He’d heard of it many times in his long life, and even met the founder once; still, with both the College of Sapiarchs and the Psijic Order in his own homeland, he’d never felt the need to investigate the institution. Now, with no other choice, he was entering as an advanced apprentice in Restoration. 

“Where in Oblivion is that classroom supposed to be?” he grumbled to himself. “Could a school be any more labyrinthine?” He felt someone bump into his shoulder, then felt another poor soul trip over his staff. “Excuse me-- I-- I am sorry--” Quickly, he took refuge into a nearby classroom where he could hear two voices: a young khajiit crying, and another voice... a hauntingly familiar voice. 

He cleared his throat. “Talasse?” he said carefully, hoping he hadn’t made an already awkward situation worse yet. 

[inkwell-arts]

Just a little friend art for @dyslexic-daedra of Talasse, the 100% real Dunmer who is definitely not a Daedra in disguise.

[aicendor]

@dyslexic-daedra

“Gods, I hope I’m nearly there.” 

Riding in the saddle was not something Aicendor did for fun. And he most certainly did not find it fun to be doing just that for the best part of two days. However, he had little choice in the matter. If his betters wished him to visit the College of Winterhold and check on proceedings, that was exactly what he was going to do. Even if he didn’t quite understand why the Thalmor were so interested in the College. Supposedly Ancano would fill him in on the specifics upon his arrival.

At long last Aicendor caught his first sight of Winterhold. It was little more than a dilapidated eyesore. As he shivered under his cloak, he vehemently wished he were back home in the Isles. 

After a short while longer he came to the college. It looked a damn-sight more impressive than the rest of Winterhold, but that wasn’t saying much for it too appeared to have seen better days. Dismounting his horse, Aicendor made the trek along the bridge and into the college itself. 

The large foyer seemed completely deserted when he entered and unfortunately not much warmer than outside. The Altmer sighed to himself. He didn’t particularly want to go exploring the place uninvited, but perhaps he could find someone to help him locate Ancano he thought as he began to wander down a passageway to his right.

[finsaraan]

You were always a bitch beneath that mask. Wasn't it one of your humans... Some 'Oscar Wilde' man who said masks show you who a person really is? And you're a BITCH.

my mask is a masterpiece compared to that goatee, and who tf is oscar wilde?? talasse wtf are you doing on nirn that you can’t even bring back new insults.

and if you say ‘sucking dick’ i’m gonna fuckin push a stack of books right into the sludge

[malevolentnightshade]

every-talasse-manarion-fight.jpeg

[anovisxllando]

hair

send me a word! || learn all about my muse’s physical features!

Anovis keeps his hair relatively simple. His hair is prematurely completely grey, thanks in large part to being forced to be in Miraak’s cult; it falls straight down, and he typically wears it tied low against his neck. When worn down, it falls to about the base of his shoulder blades. His hair has always been fairly manageable, given its natural tendency to be straight.  

While he does have hair elsewhere on his body, it is much more fine than that on his face and head, and is therefore less noticeable. He can grow a beard, but absolutely hates it. Fortunately for him, his beard grows in so slowly he doesn’t have to shave daily. 

[enkikiwi]

@dyslexic-daedra // @colleggtorofcogs

         The day had finally come. Nirilhe sits with Talasse outside the room he shared with Revus as they waited for him to get ready. The Snow Elf wasn’t entirely sure where the procedure was going to take place, but he was finally getting his collar off. He was unbelievably nervous.

          Talasse was only able to help so much to keep him calm. He’d been reminding him all morning that with the removal of his collar it would be much easier to let go of his past and move on. Nirilhe grips the tools Manarion had helped him find so tightly it made his already pale knuckles appear washed out.

          He still had yet to tell the daedra that he’d let his identity slip to the Altmer. He was terrified that Talasse would be furious with him, thus his reasoning for not telling him yet. Though, knowing that the other was a spy, and assuming that he would have to be given strong potions while recovering, he’d let it out sooner or later.

          Nirilhe jumps when he hears a door down the hall open, but as he takes in the new scent, he realizes it’s a student entering the offices, presumably to talk to a different professor. Surely Talasse could tell that his jumpiness wasn’t just from what he was about to face...he’d might as well go ahead and tell him, right?

          He waits until the student leaves earshot, and with a small voice he speaks up. “Uhm...Talasse...? Remember how I told you that someone helped me find these tools? I--I, uhm...He knows.” he says, scooting ever so slightly away from the daedra. 

          “He’s that big, big Altmer that’s here sometimes...I...I told him. I’m sorry...I know you didn’t want me to tell anyone else because of my safety and everything, but I was scared he’d find out on his own and get angry...well, angrier than usual a--and now I’m rambling and probably making you angry and I’m so sorry it won’thappenagainIwon’ttellanyoneelse.” The last bit of his confession comes out as one panicked breath, and he has to take a moment to recollect himself, hoping that Talasse had understood him and wouldn’t make him say it all over again.