#silkandsolitude

[finsaraan]

Headcanon: Miraak hires Irï as his tailor and she is completely naïve to who he really is? All powerful dragonborn but the gods help him when he tears his tunic and she has to mend it

imfhduf !!!!!! I LOV!!! she’s like ‘are u fuckin srs i JUST made this robe’‘well i said it was a battle robe’‘what kind of a battle robe has a three foot train'‘MY KIND OK IRI DID I HIRE U TO SASS ME’‘no but u hired me to make u clothes and if i’m gonna keep doin that ur gonna have to be alive to wear them’

[silkandsolitude-blog]

{closed roleplay for @finsaraan } 

IV: Dragonscales and Thimbles

Irïdessa wrapped her loose shawl tighter around her shoulders. The cool wind of Sun’s Dawn in the morning almost chilled her to her bones. The misty sun had only just risen above the horizon as she left the city gates and the sanctuary of Solitude. Irï gripped her shawl tighter in one hand and her wicker basket in another. 

She was not planning to venture far, just a little off the paths in search of some blue mountain flowers she could steep to make cloth dye. She saved money this way and found the colours more pure and intense. Irï had not lived in Solitude long but loved the hustle and bustle of the metropolitan life. She lived in a small apartment above a leather worker's shop and was beginning to make a name for herself as a skilled haberdasher to almost rival the Radiant Raiment. 

The flowers were needed to dye some imported silk from the Summer Isles for a commissioned dress. Normally she couldn’t afford such material but it had been gifted to her as part of the design. The Thalmor Embassy in the heart of the city was hosting an evening ball and an Altmer noblewoman had ordered a tailored floral dress for her daughter’s debutante. Irï would have given anything to have seen such magnificent robes, but she knew she would never fit in. Her own dress was simple cotton in a dark mossy green colour and already looked aged, and she was constantly mending her favourite brown shawl. With the cost of taxes and materials increasing, she preferred to spend her small remaining allowance on food than looking au courant. 

Yet her good fortune was slowly increasing and she knew who to thank. After leisurely picking her flowers and listening to the beautiful morning birdsong she knew she would have to make a detour to the shrine of Kynareth before returning to the city. Even though she was far away from her family farmstead Irïdessa knew she must thank her family deity for her fortune and remember her family. She would leave some flowers and a small bag of septims this time, she mused.

As Irï walked through the wild grass that was almost as tall as her, she noticed something peculiar a few meters ahead. Was that a man laying in the indented grass? What in the gods name was he doing laying on the hard ground in the early cold morn? Perhaps he was injured and needed her aid, she thought rushing forward to offer him help.

Irï stopped abruptly. 

What if it was a trap and there were other men laying in wait to steal her money? Foolish girl she thought, glancing quickly around. There was no one she could see and without the coverage of trees she realised she would see an advancement. Irïdessa carefully approached him, was he dead or unconscious?. Looking down on his motionless body she noticed his attire, the brocade was so beautiful and carefully stitched, he was clearly a nobleman but it looked so dated. Unsure she gently placed her hand on his shoulder and attempted to stir him.

“My lord...are you quite alright?”

[silkandsolitude-blog]

{closed roleplay for @the-ceolwulf-clan }

Miss Irϊdessa Rosewood stood awkwardly at the edge of the room, picking at the slight fray on the cuff of her dress. It had been loaned to her last minute and dragged no attention to her presence. She’d liked it that way. Whilst she was a normal maid in the Telwyn household, she had still had singing and dancing lessons with the patriarch of the family’s daughter Lady Mathilde and they considered each other good friends despite separate stations.

Lady Mathilde’s lady-in-waiting had fallen sick, and she could not be expected to attend the party without a chaperone even if her family was there. Which was why Irï found herself watching the Noble families across Skyrim, who aligned themselves with the Empire, at a celebratory party the Jarl of Solitude had created for the Emperor Titus’s visit to the country. Whilst it was not Irϊdessa' first time at a ball, it compared not a piece to the ones she had been present at High Rock.

As she scanned the room, she noticed the large amount of Imperial soldiers on duty. Of course it made sense,  with the Emperor’s appearance he needed the most upmost security, alongside the Noble families of Skyrim in attendance. Irï was even certain she had seen many Noble families from other lands as well, how interesting, if she was of a higher status she would have loved to ask them questions about their homes. However there was nothing to prevent her from communing with the servants...or the soldiers for that matter. She wondered hesitantly if any of them had any information on the whereabouts of her brother Tristayne. He left to join the Imperial Legion to help the family but they never heard of him since... 

[dunadaneth]

Purple Hyacinth~

Purple Hyacinth — “I am sorry, please forgive me.” accepting.

        The purple flowers look like little stars, curling outwards and twining with each other, and Créa can not help but feel a smile tug at her lips as she takes them delicately in hand. The meaning, however, does not escape her notice-- in her youth she studied flowers, and as a Ranger she now knew their names and uses in the wilds, as well as their meanings.

        “There is nothing to be sorry for; it was an accident, truly!” The shirt she had given her for repair was so old and tattered she was not sure why she even thought it possible to repair at all, for the seams began to unravel and disintegrate. It was a sentimental tunic, and though it be impossible to repair, she would still wear it, and she did not blame Irïdessa in the slightest, for at least she had tried!

       “I must ask, though,” she paused, carefully tucking the flower away carefully for preservation, “do you perhaps happen to teach small lessons in repair...? I know quite a bit, but...it would be useful to know more.”

[silkandsolitude-blog]

(from roguenobility) “You need to leave," muttered the Gael to the girl, and the only other person present at that, save the barmaid, who was already gone away in the kitchen room. He hadn't looked to the girl as he spoke, intently focused on something else that was turning quickly distressing. He saw a few rather pallid patrons dressed in frayed (stolen) noble Volkihar attire as they skulked into the tavern at present, hunger terrible, and blades at the ready. (Hey! Hope you don't mind.)

{ @roguenobility }

Irϊdessa went almost as red as her hair and stammered. “Why my Lord? What have I done?” eager to please and kind hearted, Irï hoped she hadn’t done anything to anger the man and if the fault was hers, she’d try and solve the problem. Until she noticed the drawn weapons, by now it was too late to exit through the tavern door and she felt her body grow cold with dawning fear. She couldn’t fight and whilst as a native Breton she knew magick, she couldn’t depend on her destruction spells very well