when someone is completely fucking wrong about your blorbo but you don't want to argue about what basically boils down to opinions about shit that doesn't matter so you just sit there like
im also a fan of when a character has their autonomy stripped from them (possession, curse, some kind of contract or deal, etc etc) and tries to kill themselves as escape / to exert any sort of control on their situation at all, and is denied the ability to do so
Fallout/ Elder Scrolls players will be like "this character is so annoying i love to murder them" and it's just the first ethnic minority you encounter in the game
Inaffri in native Malabal Tor styled armor for @lambasi !!
character belongs to @/lambasi, please don't use or repost without explicit permission.
Coincidentally one of my main bosmer OCs is also from Malabal Tor so I love imagining how different tribes/bosmer from the area have things in common with their styles >:3 Thank you for letting me draw her ^^
“average person dies 3 times a year" factoid actualy just statistical error. average person dies 0 times per year. Vestige Georg, who lives in a Veteran Trial & dies over 10,000 times each day, is an outlier adn should not have been counted
Alfie's been my storage alt for a while so she was just sorta wearing literally whatever horrifically outdated gear I gave her to hold onto, and I took her out for Dynamic Encounter farming tonight and well...
the Relationship Ambiguity Zone™️ is a beautiful place to be. safe place to put your characters. put all characters into Relationship Ambiguity Zone. is that guy your mentor or your dad? Ambiguous!!! are you friends or enemies? Ambiguous!!! is it romantic? is it platonic? is it sexual? Ambiguous!!!!!!! never categorize anything ever in the Relationship Ambiguity Zone. just make them fucking weird about each other.
the funny thing about writing combat in an eso setting, particularly involving a vestige/PC, is that you have so much to go on. just. so much. every weapon has five (or six) different attacks, each of which branch of into two more variants of that attack, and they all have effects or animations you can describe and even names if you want to use them, and that's just one type of skill. and then a reader might notice and be like, "ah yes, cleave," or whatever.
so then when you want your character to do something that's from an unused class or weapon, or is laughably suboptimal but much cooler or more apt, or you just want to make something up, it's like. uh oh. they're going to notice that too
The plague has been dealt with, Magistrix Vox is dead, and Vellaise finally feels reality begin to creep in. It is strange, being once-dead. Her home is gone, along with her job. Until now, she has simply been going where she's sent, doing what is asked of her. Once she leaves this ruin, where will she go? There's always the Harborage, she supposes with a grimace, but maybe she can find more work before it comes to that.
She doesn't realize she's just standing in the middle of the ruin until Almalexia speaks.
"Let us talk, Vellaise," she says. "Not here. Meet me in my cloister."
She opens a portal and gestures her through.
---
"Why do you fight for the Ebonheart Pact?" Almalexia asks once they are alone in the temple.
That's the real question, isn't it? Vellaise considers it now that it has been put into words. Why does she fight for the Pact? Really, it just happened. She wasn't exactly in her right mind when she landed in Bleakrock, and so she just went with the flow, and then one thing led to another and she never really stopped. But she can't tell Almalexia that. She's already an oddity, being an Imperial in Pact territory. She'd look like a spy, or at best a weak link.
"Speak plainly, my child," the goddess says, as if reading her mind. "You will not offend."
A part of her doubts that, but she takes a breath to steady herself and responds anyway, saying, "I suppose it began as repayment for rescuing me. After that, I never put much thought into it."
"Any debt you owed has long been repaid; you are released from any obligation to the Ebonheart Pact. Your fate lies elsewhere—indeed, it was my companions and I who nudged you in this direction on your return to Nirn." She pauses and tilts her head. "You resent this, even though you had no home to return to. Why?"
Vellaise balks. It's true that she felt a brief pang of resentment, but she doesn't think she showed it on her face. She hardly had time to notice it before the goddess commented on it.
"Still you hesitate," Almalexia chides her. "That which is in your heart, Vellaise, is already known to me; you cannot conceal it, and so you need not fear it being revealed. What I would hear is your account."
Her stomach lurches in spite of the reassurance. She hopes this goddess of mercy is true to her word and her domain; she would hate to say something untoward and end up a pile of ashes...
"I...was separated from my friend," she says at last. It sounds so small, in the face of a god, but Elanniren woke her up from the endless nightmare that was Coldharbour, and was immediately torn from her upon their escape. "I just worry for her."
"You were alone for a very long time," Almalexia fills in, as if she sees it in front of her. "It is only natural that you would care for the first kind face you saw in that horrible place. As it happens, your friend is a beacon in the eyes of a god. I would grant you this boon of knowledge: Elanniren has become quite an asset to her alliance—but I will not hold that against her—yet she struggles with her path. Though you have not had time to consider it, you will agree that your skills as a mage would be put to better use working with your Prophet to support Elanniren. You have our blessing to do just that."
When she puts it that way, it's as if a screen has lifted off the feeling. Almalexia is right; that should be her role. She has neither love nor distaste for the Pact per se, but her heart is in the Planemeld crisis. There, she can help. She can make a real difference. And she can see Elanniren. If anything, Vellaise owes her a debt, too, for if Elanniren hadn't passed through her cell, she would probably still be in Coldharbour. Her heart swells with a renewed resolve.
"Thank you, Lady Almalexia."
"It is only what is due, and I have yet more to ask of you. The reason we brought you here is that you, too, shine with prophecy, but yours leads you to the aid of the Tribunal. I agreed to put you to the test—and I am pleased to say that you have performed admirably in our eyes. When the time comes, we will call on you. Do you accept this strand of destiny, Vellaise Silinus?"
A prophecy of her own? The idea excites her so much that she's inclined to call it a boon in itself, regardless of what it might entail. The Prophet has mentioned that she would have some role to play in certain events, but she didn't realize it would be so concrete.
"I do," she says. She wants to ask for more detail, see if there are any texts she can study to prepare herself, but she should probably be careful. The Planemeld will be her focus for now, and if Almalexia says they will call on her when it's time, then she will wait.
"Excellent. Now, since you'll be settling down for some time, if you'd like to stay somewhere other than daedric ruins and inn rooms, speak with Registrar Riivel. There is a certain wizard living not far from my city with a warrant out for his execution. Doubt not his strength—he has given our Ordinators trouble. I have left a Divine Writ of Execution with Riivel. If you fulfill it, you may keep the house as payment."
Vellaise pauses. Just like that? In Cyrodiil, there would be endless paperwork, not to mention cost.
Almalexia seems to notice her confusion and chuckles. "There is no catch, my child; this is simply our custom. Welcome to Morrowind."
people will say “they’re only friends” and then show me two people who would crawl through broken glass to hear the other laugh once. two people who have memorized each other’s coffee orders, fears, childhood stories, and emergency contacts. two people who would haunt each other’s houses as ghosts. be serious.
Just an FYI—the original intention of this post was to challenge the way people say only friends, as though friendship is somehow lesser than other forms of love. As if being deeply known, cherished, and chosen by another person could ever be a small thing. Normalize profound platonic love. Some of the most fulfilling, transformative, and enduring relationships we will ever have are friendships. 🫶🏼
