@aetheriusbound / aetheriusbound.tumblr.com
{ -hands all of my followers a note card stating the following-
“i’m sorry, i have let you down. i thought i was ready to rp again, but i have instead spent $300 on a new graphics card and become a dinosaur. i hope my sincerest apologies can be enough to sustain you
-rawr <3
(ps: rawr mean ‘i love you’ in dinosaur)” )
aetheriusbound:
Haleth took the gum pad, watching in amazement as it turned to an odd putty in her warm hands. She pulled it and watched it snap back before putting it in her travelling pack. “Thanks,” she said slowly, still eyeing him curiously. She snorted and folded her arms, staring down one long, dimly-lit corridors. “And yeah, the general design schemes are fine, but everyone says that until the floor drops out from under you, or you get slapped in the face with swinging bars, or sliced up by invisible spinning blades of death.” She shook her head quickly. “If the Dwemer were so smart, why’d they booby-trap their own homes?” she asked no one in particular, throwing her head back to stare up at the odd, blue lights in the ceiling.
Haleth turned back to the elder and nodded, though her eyes narrowed slightly. He knew much about the ruins, certainly– too much. Still, he clearly wanted to move on, and didn’t seem keen on answering her questions, not without some cryptic quip she did not have time to unravel. An idea formed in her mind– he knew where he was going; surely, he was looking for something specific. Something fascinating. The promise of new information was so tantalizing, and so close. Would indulging her curiosity really be so bad, just this once?
She gathered her belongings and threw her knapsack over her shoulders. “Alright,” she said with a nod. “Thanks for the help. I’ll just be going now.” She looked down at the map once more, and began walking in the specified direction.
When she was certain she was out of eye and earshot, she cast a spell of muffling, downed and invisibility potion, and crouched, waiting for the mer to make his next move.
A few corridors into his trek, the elder mer cussed in Dwemeris--he had been planning to sit down and rest his damned knee before meeting with the child. As badly as it hurt, he knew he couldnt stop now; the young womer’s resonance had left, but then quickly boomeranged back to follow him. He had attempted to catch glimpses of her, but the innate sound of magic replaced where she was supposed to be. She thought she was being sneaky.
Her loss.
But, Ilch couldnt tell her motives. He simply had to keep an ear on her. Thus, he continued as though he was none the wiser. In several areas where there were traps, he simply stopped, examined the area, and made a slight detour to avoid the trigger, or find a suitable position in which to set the trap off safely with a simple tap of his cane.
When the commotion inevitably attracted curious critters, Ilch hardly mis-stepped. With a silent spell, he unbolted few rivets in a steam-bearing pipe and sent the searing vapor at Falmer faces, prompting them to hiss and turn tail, yelping. One that came too close discovered with it’s life that his cane became a sword with a flick of a gear.
Automatons that crossed his path stood to block his way, not attacking but also not seeming quite sure what exactly stood in front of them. With a flick of the wrist, a glowing hand turned them aside in obedience. One arachnid scuttled after him like a puppy once being reprogrammed. A sentry was set to scout ahead for more Falmer. Even as the mer had to stop and gain his bearings a few times, seeming to pause and look at empty walls and even the ceiling or floor, he never seemed to be lost.
Eventually he came to an empty room. He gruffed and moved to a design in the floor. “Of course it’s a lexicon stand..” he muttered to himself in Dwemeris. Now what? He didnt have a lexicon.
Ah well. He stepped back and pushed a button on the wall telekinetically. The floor began to rearrange, eventually building up into a sort of pedestal. If I have to hack it, I will.
He looked to the arachnid and tapped the side of the stand. It happily scuttled closer and began tearing at the metal with it’s foreclaws, eventually pulling a haphazard door off of it. Done, it turned 180 degrees and a few gears in it’s leg joins snapped into place. The mer sighed as he finally got to sit, taking a seat on the smooth body of the automaton as he got to work studying the internal workings of the stand.
“Not everything, but a fair bit. But it is quality of the knowledge, not the quantity. That is what I have.”
He courteously took the map from her, letting it unroll so he could study it. “I have some business to attend to in Blackreach. I am not worried about the darkness of it–there are bioilluminescent fungi that grows throughout,” he mentioned as he studied the map.
Of course, the map was drawn to the standards of the current explorers’ knowledge, and lacked much of it. He gruffed heavily at the work-in-progress appearance of the map. Using what was there, however, he cross-referenced what he could hear with the visuals he had on the paper. He pulled a stick of charcoal out of his cloak and began to sketch probable ways down based upon his knowledge of how city-states were usually laid out, his lines straight and perfect with hundreds of years of practice.
Once he committed the sketches to memory, he looked to the young Dunmer. “We are here,” he said, making a dashed circle around a square on the map. ”Your way out is this way,” he said, creating a dashed line as a pathway to follow. “That is the door that you must leave through, however. Thank you for letting me reference your map,” he finished, handing her back her map.
She watched in confusion as he unfurled the map and retrieved a stick of charcoal; her heart nearly stopped as he put the charcoal to the paper and began to make marks on it. Her mouth hung open in horror for a time before she regained consciousness. “What are you doing?” she yelped, “I borrowed that from the College’s library. Urag’s going to kill me! He threatened to have another student torn apart by angry atronachs for a water stain in another book—imagine what he’s going to do to me!”
But the more he drew, the more it began to make somd sense— if only a bit. “ You sound like Dad’s side of the family,” she said with a huff, leaning over the map to watch him draw with a skeptical eye. Her mind began humming with questions. What sort of business could he have to attend to in Blackreach of all places? Her face twisted in a grimace as she continued to watch the map, her ears flicking back. “And what do you think you’re going to do about the charus bugs? And the Falmer? Those things are pretty tough if you aren’t quiet. And you don’t really seem like the type who goes sneaking around places.”
When he handed her back the map, she studied the new markings with a scrutinizing gaze, her lips drawn to a line as her eyes narrowed at the paper. “How did you come up with this?” she asked, looking back to him. “And aren’t you going to need it to go, well, anywhere in here?”
He reached again into his cloak to retrieve a gum pad. “You may use this to rub the charcoal away when you’re done; stretch and fold it to clean it and it will make the parchment pristine--just dont press too hard.
“I am quite the accomplished mage; I can care for myself,” he retorted, the slightest of wry smiles tugging at one corner of his mouth. “Remember I mentioned that I have not been to this particular ruin before. I am, however, quite learned in Dwemeri design; I am familiar with their general design schemes and simply made some educated guesses. And as I am so familiar with the archetypes, I do not need the map myself--that and I have a pretty good memory.”
He turned to leave, “But, do worry for yourself. Those spiders have a set movement rotation, and you dont want to be caught unawares.”
Of all the places to become lost, she had to do it in a Dwarven ruin. Haleth peered down one hallway lined with steaming pipes to gaze down another. With a huff, she turned back to the center of the ruin, likely a room that had once been someone’s parlor or dining room. Her father’s grandfather, a Telvanni mage with a fascination for all manner of machines, had requested a list of items, all of which she’d had to guess their appearance. Her knapsack filled with things she could have never imagined, she had hoped to find her way out; but the ruin was dark, its labyrinthine halls rendering her map useless.
“Fine!” she cried, throwing her hands up and letting the leather bag fall from her shoulders with a thud, “I’ll try again in a minute.” She sat down on the hard, smooth stone, her arms crossed as she looked over the map once more.
Before she could become intrenched in her study, however, the sound of footfalls and a strange tapping reached her ears. Her heart pounded. There weren’t supposed to be other people in Dwemer ruins, and those she usually found were bandits or worse. Quickly, she dropped the map and climbed one of the cooler pipes, a hand waiting near her knife as she watched for the uninvited guests.
Being unfamiliar with this particular city, Ilch was having difficulty finding his way about. He knew Alftand had access to Blackreach, where he could hear his blasted grandson, but reaching the location was another story. His knee was throwing a fuss, so he made the executive decision to sit down at the next table he found and map out a logical course of travel to give it a rest.
He heard her resonance before he saw her, and it lifted his brow. He was in no mood to meet with a ruin raider, on his own as he was. He only hoped that her youthful sound meant that she was of the easily spooked sort, perhaps a researcher rather than a pillager.
As the elder mer stepped into the room, he easily located her with his eyes, scaled upon the pipe. Hand near her weapon, he saw. He sighed.
“I mean you no harm, child. You can relax,” he said in heavily accented common.
Steam hissed and filled the upper reaches of the room, but did little to hide her presence. Haleth remained silent, though, as the footsteps became louder, her ears flicking back as the person finally entered the room and called up to her. She hadn’t expected him to notice her so immediately; he didn’t look like much of a threat, an old mer with a cane, but there was never telling, especially if he were some sort of mage.
Her eyes narrowed slightly, but she slid partway down the pipe, jumping the rest of the way. “Who are you?” she asked, tilting her head toward the elder mer. He certainly wasn’t from Skyrim, and he did not have the typical accent of the Summerset Isles. “Dwemer ruins are pretty dangerous. Are you here to study this— this stuff with other mages?”
Her eyes never leaving the other elf, she made her way back to her knapsack and rolled up her map. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you at the College. Are you with the Synod? The College of Whispers? The Psijic Order?”
aetheriusbound:
Steam hissed and filled the upper reaches of the room, but did little to hide her presence. Haleth remained silent, though, as the footsteps became louder, her ears flicking back as the person finally entered the room and called up to her. She hadn’t expected him to notice her so immediately; he didn’t look like much of a threat, an old mer with a cane, but there was never telling, especially if he were some sort of mage.
Her eyes narrowed slightly, but she slid partway down the pipe, jumping the rest of the way. “Who are you?” she asked, tilting her head toward the elder mer. He certainly wasn’t from Skyrim, and he did not have the typical accent of the Summerset Isles. “Dwemer ruins are pretty dangerous. Are you here to study this— this stuff with other mages?”
Her eyes never leaving the other elf, she made her way back to her knapsack and rolled up her map. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you at the College. Are you with the Synod? The College of Whispers? The Psijic Order?”
He couldnt help but give a chuckle. “The Psijics,” he failed to stop himself from letting the words leave his mouth. “No, no. I am here of my own purpose.”
He didnt move from where he had stopped, only watched her curiously--almost overbearingly so--with his odd green eyes. He peered at her map, trying to catch a glimpse of what it laid out. Perhaps... perhaps, if that map was even 30% accurate...
“What brings you here? You speak of mage guilds, but are alone.”
The young elf’s ears flicked back in irritation. “I don’t see what’s so funny, especially not with the Psijics. They’re the best mages on Tamriel. One’s even visiting the College right now. Arch-Mage Aren is the one who talks to him mostly, though.”
She dug in her traveling pack, attempting to find the best place for the map. She shook the bag to make room, the trinkets she’d picked up for Revus clattering with the sudden movement. “Me?” she asked in surprise, dropping the knapsack and its contents. They landed with a heavy thud on he hard stone, and she huffed a short sigh. “Well, I’m a student at the College of Winterhold, at least for now. My grandfather— well, great-great grandfather, is a Telvanni wizard, and he wanted some stuff to study, and I didn’t really want to work on illusion.” She shook her head quickly.
“But you didn’t really answer my question,” she said, folding her arms over her chest, her ruby eyes meeting his green. “If you aren’t down here to study, then what are you doing here?”
aetheriusbound:
The young elf’s ears flicked back in irritation. “I don’t see what’s so funny, especially not with the Psijics. They’re the best mages on Tamriel. One’s even visiting the College right now. Arch-Mage Aren is the one who talks to him mostly, though.”
She dug in her traveling pack, attempting to find the best place for the map. She shook the bag to make room, the trinkets she’d picked up for Revus clattering with the sudden movement. “Me?” she asked in surprise, dropping the knapsack and its contents. They landed with a heavy thud on he hard stone, and she huffed a short sigh. “Well, I’m a student at the College of Winterhold, at least for now. My grandfather— well, great-great grandfather, is a Telvanni wizard, and he wanted some stuff to study, and I didn’t really want to work on illusion.” She shook her head quickly.
“But you didn’t really answer my question,” she said, folding her arms over her chest, her ruby eyes meeting his green. “If you aren’t down here to study, then what are you doing here?”
“The Psijics think they know everything Nirn has to offer, and they dont. They are far from it. That is why I laugh.”
Ah, so she was a scrapper, just not for herself. Part of him wondered if the person who wanted the parts actually knew how to use them, or was only using them for decorations--with Telvanni, he couldnt know.
“I’m attempting to find my way into Blackreach,” he answered. “I’m aware this city-state has access, but as I’ve never been here before, I dont know my way around. I saw a map amongst your items, may I see it?”
Haleth bit down the urge to retort, instead rolling her eyes as she shifted to a crouched position to gather her belongings. “And I guess you do know about everything in the world?” she asked with a huff. “I wouldn’t envy them— how boring would it be if everyone knew everything? What would we need other people for if the world were like that?
The younger elf shifted to sit in her heels, looking the elder up and down, studying him. Something seemed different, but what it was, she couldn’t be sure. “I’ve tried using the map, but it doesn’t make any sense! I’ve been running around this place for hours, and gotten nowhere!” She cried, throwing her hands up. “But if you want to try, you can.”
Her ears shifted back at the mention of the underground city as she reached for the map. She’d heard tale of the place and its many foul denizens, but never had to set foot in it. “Blackreach?” she asked, turning her head. “Why would you want to go there? It’s... dark.” The Dunmer shuddered at the thought.
aetheriusbound:
Haleth bit down the urge to retort, instead rolling her eyes as she shifted to a crouched position to gather her belongings. “And I guess you do know about everything in the world?” she asked with a huff. “I wouldn’t envy them— how boring would it be if everyone knew everything? What would we need other people for if the world were like that?
The younger elf shifted to sit in her heels, looking the elder up and down, studying him. Something seemed different, but what it was, she couldn’t be sure. “I’ve tried using the map, but it doesn’t make any sense! I’ve been running around this place for hours, and gotten nowhere!” She cried, throwing her hands up. “But if you want to try, you can.”
Her ears shifted back at the mention of the underground city as she reached for the map. She’d heard tale of the place and its many foul denizens, but never had to set foot in it. “Blackreach?” she asked, turning her head. “Why would you want to go there? It’s… dark.” The Dunmer shuddered at the thought.
“Not everything, but a fair bit. But it is quality of the knowledge, not the quantity. That is what I have.”
He courteously took the map from her, letting it unroll so he could study it. “I have some business to attend to in Blackreach. I am not worried about the darkness of it--there are bioilluminescent fungi that grows throughout,” he mentioned as he studied the map.
Of course, the map was drawn to the standards of the current explorers’ knowledge, and lacked much of it. He gruffed heavily at the work-in-progress appearance of the map. Using what was there, however, he cross-referenced what he could hear with the visuals he had on the paper. He pulled a stick of charcoal out of his cloak and began to sketch probable ways down based upon his knowledge of how city-states were usually laid out, his lines straight and perfect with hundreds of years of practice.
Once he committed the sketches to memory, he looked to the young Dunmer. “We are here,” he said, making a dashed circle around a square on the map. ”Your way out is this way,” he said, creating a dashed line as a pathway to follow. “That is the door that you must leave through, however. Thank you for letting me reference your map,” he finished, handing her back her map.
Of all the places to become lost, she had to do it in a Dwarven ruin. Haleth peered down one hallway lined with steaming pipes to gaze down another. With a huff, she turned back to the center of the ruin, likely a room that had once been someone’s parlor or dining room. Her father’s grandfather, a Telvanni mage with a fascination for all manner of machines, had requested a list of items, all of which she’d had to guess their appearance. Her knapsack filled with things she could have never imagined, she had hoped to find her way out; but the ruin was dark, its labyrinthine halls rendering her map useless.
“Fine!” she cried, throwing her hands up and letting the leather bag fall from her shoulders with a thud, “I’ll try again in a minute.” She sat down on the hard, smooth stone, her arms crossed as she looked over the map once more.
Before she could become intrenched in her study, however, the sound of footfalls and a strange tapping reached her ears. Her heart pounded. There weren’t supposed to be other people in Dwemer ruins, and those she usually found were bandits or worse. Quickly, she dropped the map and climbed one of the cooler pipes, a hand waiting near her knife as she watched for the uninvited guests.
Being unfamiliar with this particular city, Ilch was having difficulty finding his way about. He knew Alftand had access to Blackreach, where he could hear his blasted grandson, but reaching the location was another story. His knee was throwing a fuss, so he made the executive decision to sit down at the next table he found and map out a logical course of travel to give it a rest.
He heard her resonance before he saw her, and it lifted his brow. He was in no mood to meet with a ruin raider, on his own as he was. He only hoped that her youthful sound meant that she was of the easily spooked sort, perhaps a researcher rather than a pillager.
As the elder mer stepped into the room, he easily located her with his eyes, scaled upon the pipe. Hand near her weapon, he saw. He sighed.
“I mean you no harm, child. You can relax,” he said in heavily accented common.
Steam hissed and filled the upper reaches of the room, but did little to hide her presence. Haleth remained silent, though, as the footsteps became louder, her ears flicking back as the person finally entered the room and called up to her. She hadn’t expected him to notice her so immediately; he didn’t look like much of a threat, an old mer with a cane, but there was never telling, especially if he were some sort of mage.
Her eyes narrowed slightly, but she slid partway down the pipe, jumping the rest of the way. “Who are you?” she asked, tilting her head toward the elder mer. He certainly wasn’t from Skyrim, and he did not have the typical accent of the Summerset Isles. “Dwemer ruins are pretty dangerous. Are you here to study this— this stuff with other mages?”
Her eyes never leaving the other elf, she made her way back to her knapsack and rolled up her map. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you at the College. Are you with the Synod? The College of Whispers? The Psijic Order?”
aetheriusbound:
Steam hissed and filled the upper reaches of the room, but did little to hide her presence. Haleth remained silent, though, as the footsteps became louder, her ears flicking back as the person finally entered the room and called up to her. She hadn’t expected him to notice her so immediately; he didn’t look like much of a threat, an old mer with a cane, but there was never telling, especially if he were some sort of mage.
Her eyes narrowed slightly, but she slid partway down the pipe, jumping the rest of the way. “Who are you?” she asked, tilting her head toward the elder mer. He certainly wasn’t from Skyrim, and he did not have the typical accent of the Summerset Isles. “Dwemer ruins are pretty dangerous. Are you here to study this— this stuff with other mages?”
Her eyes never leaving the other elf, she made her way back to her knapsack and rolled up her map. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you at the College. Are you with the Synod? The College of Whispers? The Psijic Order?”
He couldnt help but give a chuckle. “The Psijics,” he failed to stop himself from letting the words leave his mouth. “No, no. I am here of my own purpose.”
He didnt move from where he had stopped, only watched her curiously--almost overbearingly so--with his odd green eyes. He peered at her map, trying to catch a glimpse of what it laid out. Perhaps... perhaps, if that map was even 30% accurate...
“What brings you here? You speak of mage guilds, but are alone.”
The young elf’s ears flicked back in irritation. “I don’t see what’s so funny, especially not with the Psijics. They’re the best mages on Tamriel. One’s even visiting the College right now. Arch-Mage Aren is the one who talks to him mostly, though.”
She dug in her traveling pack, attempting to find the best place for the map. She shook the bag to make room, the trinkets she’d picked up for Revus clattering with the sudden movement. “Me?” she asked in surprise, dropping the knapsack and its contents. They landed with a heavy thud on he hard stone, and she huffed a short sigh. “Well, I’m a student at the College of Winterhold, at least for now. My grandfather— well, great-great grandfather, is a Telvanni wizard, and he wanted some stuff to study, and I didn’t really want to work on illusion.” She shook her head quickly.
“But you didn’t really answer my question,” she said, folding her arms over her chest, her ruby eyes meeting his green. “If you aren’t down here to study, then what are you doing here?”
aetheriusbound:
The young elf’s ears flicked back in irritation. “I don’t see what’s so funny, especially not with the Psijics. They’re the best mages on Tamriel. One’s even visiting the College right now. Arch-Mage Aren is the one who talks to him mostly, though.”
She dug in her traveling pack, attempting to find the best place for the map. She shook the bag to make room, the trinkets she’d picked up for Revus clattering with the sudden movement. “Me?” she asked in surprise, dropping the knapsack and its contents. They landed with a heavy thud on he hard stone, and she huffed a short sigh. “Well, I’m a student at the College of Winterhold, at least for now. My grandfather— well, great-great grandfather, is a Telvanni wizard, and he wanted some stuff to study, and I didn’t really want to work on illusion.” She shook her head quickly.
“But you didn’t really answer my question,” she said, folding her arms over her chest, her ruby eyes meeting his green. “If you aren’t down here to study, then what are you doing here?”
“The Psijics think they know everything Nirn has to offer, and they dont. They are far from it. That is why I laugh.”
Ah, so she was a scrapper, just not for herself. Part of him wondered if the person who wanted the parts actually knew how to use them, or was only using them for decorations--with Telvanni, he couldnt know.
“I’m attempting to find my way into Blackreach,” he answered. “I’m aware this city-state has access, but as I’ve never been here before, I dont know my way around. I saw a map amongst your items, may I see it?”
{ 6 years...
6.
years.
it feels like a long time, but by the gods it doesnt.
i started this blog on Sept 20th, 2013. 2013. wow..
since then, i lost an amazing friendship, and made so many more, including getting married. i’ve parsed that i have adhd, like the original, first dwemer here on this blog. i got out of a job that was destroying my body and into one that i love and aligns with my interests.
several times i’ve felt like coming back to these three, specifically, but have been unable. now, i think i’m actually there. it feels amazing.
6 years.
heres to 6 more, if bethesda hasnt killed itself bc of it’s horrible PR disasters lately lol )
Of all the places to become lost, she had to do it in a Dwarven ruin. Haleth peered down one hallway lined with steaming pipes to gaze down another. With a huff, she turned back to the center of the ruin, likely a room that had once been someone’s parlor or dining room. Her father’s grandfather, a Telvanni mage with a fascination for all manner of machines, had requested a list of items, all of which she’d had to guess their appearance. Her knapsack filled with things she could have never imagined, she had hoped to find her way out; but the ruin was dark, its labyrinthine halls rendering her map useless.
“Fine!” she cried, throwing her hands up and letting the leather bag fall from her shoulders with a thud, “I’ll try again in a minute.” She sat down on the hard, smooth stone, her arms crossed as she looked over the map once more.
Before she could become intrenched in her study, however, the sound of footfalls and a strange tapping reached her ears. Her heart pounded. There weren’t supposed to be other people in Dwemer ruins, and those she usually found were bandits or worse. Quickly, she dropped the map and climbed one of the cooler pipes, a hand waiting near her knife as she watched for the uninvited guests.
Being unfamiliar with this particular city, Ilch was having difficulty finding his way about. He knew Alftand had access to Blackreach, where he could hear his blasted grandson, but reaching the location was another story. His knee was throwing a fuss, so he made the executive decision to sit down at the next table he found and map out a logical course of travel to give it a rest.
He heard her resonance before he saw her, and it lifted his brow. He was in no mood to meet with a ruin raider, on his own as he was. He only hoped that her youthful sound meant that she was of the easily spooked sort, perhaps a researcher rather than a pillager.
As the elder mer stepped into the room, he easily located her with his eyes, scaled upon the pipe. Hand near her weapon, he saw. He sighed.
“I mean you no harm, child. You can relax,” he said in heavily accented common.
Steam hissed and filled the upper reaches of the room, but did little to hide her presence. Haleth remained silent, though, as the footsteps became louder, her ears flicking back as the person finally entered the room and called up to her. She hadn’t expected him to notice her so immediately; he didn’t look like much of a threat, an old mer with a cane, but there was never telling, especially if he were some sort of mage.
Her eyes narrowed slightly, but she slid partway down the pipe, jumping the rest of the way. “Who are you?” she asked, tilting her head toward the elder mer. He certainly wasn’t from Skyrim, and he did not have the typical accent of the Summerset Isles. “Dwemer ruins are pretty dangerous. Are you here to study this— this stuff with other mages?”
Her eyes never leaving the other elf, she made her way back to her knapsack and rolled up her map. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you at the College. Are you with the Synod? The College of Whispers? The Psijic Order?”
aetheriusbound:
Steam hissed and filled the upper reaches of the room, but did little to hide her presence. Haleth remained silent, though, as the footsteps became louder, her ears flicking back as the person finally entered the room and called up to her. She hadn’t expected him to notice her so immediately; he didn’t look like much of a threat, an old mer with a cane, but there was never telling, especially if he were some sort of mage.
Her eyes narrowed slightly, but she slid partway down the pipe, jumping the rest of the way. “Who are you?” she asked, tilting her head toward the elder mer. He certainly wasn’t from Skyrim, and he did not have the typical accent of the Summerset Isles. “Dwemer ruins are pretty dangerous. Are you here to study this— this stuff with other mages?”
Her eyes never leaving the other elf, she made her way back to her knapsack and rolled up her map. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you at the College. Are you with the Synod? The College of Whispers? The Psijic Order?”
He couldnt help but give a chuckle. “The Psijics,” he failed to stop himself from letting the words leave his mouth. “No, no. I am here of my own purpose.”
He didnt move from where he had stopped, only watched her curiously--almost overbearingly so--with his odd green eyes. He peered at her map, trying to catch a glimpse of what it laid out. Perhaps... perhaps, if that map was even 30% accurate...
“What brings you here? You speak of mage guilds, but are alone.”
Of all the places to become lost, she had to do it in a Dwarven ruin. Haleth peered down one hallway lined with steaming pipes to gaze down another. With a huff, she turned back to the center of the ruin, likely a room that had once been someone’s parlor or dining room. Her father’s grandfather, a Telvanni mage with a fascination for all manner of machines, had requested a list of items, all of which she’d had to guess their appearance. Her knapsack filled with things she could have never imagined, she had hoped to find her way out; but the ruin was dark, its labyrinthine halls rendering her map useless.
“Fine!” she cried, throwing her hands up and letting the leather bag fall from her shoulders with a thud, “I’ll try again in a minute.” She sat down on the hard, smooth stone, her arms crossed as she looked over the map once more.
Before she could become intrenched in her study, however, the sound of footfalls and a strange tapping reached her ears. Her heart pounded. There weren’t supposed to be other people in Dwemer ruins, and those she usually found were bandits or worse. Quickly, she dropped the map and climbed one of the cooler pipes, a hand waiting near her knife as she watched for the uninvited guests.
Being unfamiliar with this particular city, Ilch was having difficulty finding his way about. He knew Alftand had access to Blackreach, where he could hear his blasted grandson, but reaching the location was another story. His knee was throwing a fuss, so he made the executive decision to sit down at the next table he found and map out a logical course of travel to give it a rest.
He heard her resonance before he saw her, and it lifted his brow. He was in no mood to meet with a ruin raider, on his own as he was. He only hoped that her youthful sound meant that she was of the easily spooked sort, perhaps a researcher rather than a pillager.
As the elder mer stepped into the room, he easily located her with his eyes, scaled upon the pipe. Hand near her weapon, he saw. He sighed.
“I mean you no harm, child. You can relax,” he said in heavily accented common.
i’ve been thinking about dwemer fashion/clothing and i figure it would be pretty interesting given 1. no clear gender binary 2. they’re nerds who spend all day in workshops but they’re also extremely vain
and i reckon a lot of “high fashion”, the shit you wear for a public debate where you’re about to absolutely wreck your academic rival’s reputation for the next 10 years with your thesis, is this delicate balance of being as extravagant as possible without being impractical. like there’s the expectation you should be able to work in your clothes, you should be able to go back to a workshop and craft a dagger, or a hammer, or inexplicably powerful devices that can reshape the fabric of nirn (or why not all three in one), without any issue. functionality is prized as well as a certain pride in appearance - there’s no gods, only gods-to-be, and you come from the culture that will craft godhood itself, or at least, that’s what you believe.
so fabrics that are too delicate, or easily tear aren’t used - lace is absolutely never worn, nor are finely woven shawls, or any extravagant aldmeri fashions involving butterfly wings and petals or anything that would break if you bend over. not because it’s decadent - decadence is absolutely fine - but because it’s useless. anything tightly fitted is out for a similar reason, as is anything that trails on the floor. instead you’ll see a few layers of robes and sashes and skirts - lots of durable silks, probably farmed from spiders that dwell nearby. silk layers would be sensible given that it can get quite hot when you’re working underground. colours are often dark - because they don’t stain - but rich colours which are extracted from fungi, dark blues, purples, wine reds, are common. white almost never used (or possibly - only used in the early stages of mourning, because one is never expected to work then). embroidery and complex, busy patterns are a-ok. a lot of labour has been mechanised in the late stages of dwemer society so the time exists for that kind of extravagant detail - as said before, decadence is absolutely fine. precious metals and gemstones are similarly incorporated into designs. lots of chunky gold jewellery - nothing that with snag, or snap, mind, delicacy is not the image you’re trying to cultivate. the dwemer “brass” (i imagine it’s an alloy of some kind since it’s not something you can mine, only melt down) is likely often used. it’s quite possible people like to show off their workmanship through fashion - if you’re an astronomer, for example, you might use the same gems as used for focusing lenses threaded into your hair, or beard, or studded into your robes. anything too on-the-nose is frowned upon for not being intellectually challenging enough though (because it’s the dwemer and they’re insufferable).
obviously too many layers with lots of brass can be so heavy as to be impractical - again, it’s a balancing act. perhaps people experiment with striking cuts of material and shapes instead to stand out. stark colours contrasted with something more ostentatious. perhaps people try to limit themselves to one heavy layer that catches the eye, and lighter ones to complement. perhaps people like to add symbolism into their designs - but subtly, preferably. regardless of what’s on top the dwemer will always wear heavy duty, can-endure-anything boots. no one wants crushed toes when a sphere goes awry.
there’s no gender division in clothes, but children’s stuff tends to be more practical for obvious reasons. by our standards, dwemer clothing is often considered too bold, brash, and not delicate enough for women, and too subversive for men, borrowing too much from “women’s” fashion (skirts, necklaces, bright make-up, long hair, certain colours).
I forgot a really crucial detail - patterns, motifs, etc. are rarely based on the “natural world” above ground - no flowers, no birds, no leafy patterns - but instead there are geometric patterns, constellations, equations and principles of the natural world turned into an abstract pattern, and so on.
This!! I love lore/headcanons about the Dwemer
{ i love all of this and it aligns a lot with my own headcanons, but also, not everyone is capable physically or willing to do building of any sort! career politicians, the disabled, or those that simply didnt have the knack could possibly have had their own clothing lines to separate themselves from those who did. more luxurious or accessible fabrics or designs could have been common, especially among the wealthier.
because i dont want to take over your post, simply add to the ideas, i’ll link to my previous write ups on dwemeri outfits! )
he’s pmuch complete and i couldnt be happier. as my progen, i’ve put a lot of money and time into key, and he really means a lot to me.
Gladroon Spellhammer did not look like a very intimidating mer.
Dressed in the adept blues of the school of conjuration, the Altmer carried no visible weapons, and seemed only to be armed with a large leather-bound tome. One might not be wrong to assume he’d never seen a real fight in his life.
But there were few other people in the library at this time of day, and fear of the reigning librarian’s wrath meant that no voices were raised in casual chatter above a soft whisper. When Gladroon finally closed his book, the gentle ‘thump’ seemed alarmingly loud.
“You look a bit lost, friend.” The elf looked up at the newcomer, and folded his arms across the cover of the tome in front of him with a disarming smile. “In the absence of our lovely librarian, is there something that I can help you find?”
“Perhaps,” the elder mer replied. He fixed his grip upon his cane, and the placement of his glasses upon his nose. “I’m doing a bit of light historical research. Do you know of any generalized books on the history of the area?”
You got something in your beard.
[He frantically searches for something, finding nothing. xD]
Ey, Key! What kind of mechanical trinkets do you like to work on? Are they just to pass the time, or for a specific purpose? Is there a larger goal you're working towards, or do you just enjoy keeping your mind occupied and skills up?
Right now, I dont really have any goals! I mostly work on things that interest me, things I’ve never tried before. My work is mostly to keep my hands busy, otherwise I know I can be self-destructive. I’m always down to make things for others too, if they’ve got ideas.
Does Sin know he's a thought form, or do only you know this stuff because of some magitech fuckery you Dwemer love to do to unravel the secrets of the universe and beyond?
[He grins.]
We all know. And, greymage, I think you doubt how good at magick that Sin is. Perhaps not Dwemer level, but grandad seems to think Sin’s capable of magick–not math, or magicks only Dwemer can do–comparable to our own scholars.
Key, you are awfully, uh, bombastic compared to Sin. I'd figure your personalities would clash. Are guys friends, acquaintances, frienemies? Come to think of it, how do you two even know each in the first places?
THAT’S A LONG AND FUNNY STORY ACTUALLY!
Ultimately it boils down to this thing that our mun, Das, discovered actually has a name! When she gets real attached to a character, can way more than just envision something we can do or say, that muse becomes a thing called a “Thoughtform”. We become free thinking peoples in her own head, can react to things a lot like you Greymages asking us questions, can interact with her without her focusing on what exactly we’d do, and so on! Really cool if you ask me. And not just because we’re alive because of it! [He laughs.] There’s a lot more to it and I could go on, but that’s not what you asked me about. It does preface my answer real nice, tho!
‘Couple of years ago, back when we were all really new, everyone thought I was annoying. This isnt new, I’m really used to it. But as we existed in this space with Das balancing our muses between our blogs, we got to interacting with each other on our off time, and in her free time. During a big learning arc of mine, where I… well, started to learn how to handle my hyperactivity and properly conduct myself and communicate, Sin was a huge help. He’s beyond patient, even if he gets annoyed quickly. He has great verbal communication that, between him, Das, and another of the Thoughtforms we share the headworld with, they were able to put things in a way I could understand. Over time… Sin and I became friends. Turns out he values loyalty a lot. When he realized that behind my bad behavior was someone who wasnt going to turn his back on someone who’s helped him, Sin let himself open up. In fact, he’s a lot more open and personable in our headworld, but that’s a lot to do with the fact he’s learned to come out of his shell and deal with everyone he’s around constantly. But I think he actually appreciates my out-going-ness and forwardness. He isnt, but knows that I can say things for him without being disrespectful–because we’re friends. I wouldnt want to be.
Das really wants our stories to intersect on our blogs and reflect our friendship now. She’s healing from… …a lot, though. It’s honestly painful for her to look at us sometimes. It’s rare that she visits her headworld now–but I think that’s a good thing! She has a lot going on outside of this platform and we… we arent a coping method or the only thing filling her time anymore.
Do you think Dwemer could preform the Calling on non-Dwemer? Would it hurt, be uncomfortable, or drive them mad? If they can, I think humans, mer, and beast races would react differently.
{ I have no doubt that the Calling could be used to contact other races, as according to our worldcanon, the Calling is simply the ability to hear someone's resonance, focus on it and thus their life force and being, then simply project thoughts and feelings down the connection.
The act of the Calling itself wouldnt have any negative reactions--it's just like using telepathy. However, if someone isnt expecting another voice, someone else's emotions, or thought processes, in their head, it most certainly could drive them mad! This is likely why the Dwemer chose to only contact others of their race, though it could have gone undocumented that Dumac was able to communicate with Nerevar, being friends as they were. If the person whom was being contacted knew that it was caused by the Dwemers' ability, then this likely wouldnt be a problem.
However, it wouldnt be possible for other races to do similar to the Dwemer, unless they were able to produce other ways of focuing onto resonances. (Insert ramble about possibilities of magicks doing such things here. I totally could too xD)
Though, for the issue of race, I think it would be pmuch universal to how the Calling would effect individuals of each race, but personal reactions would ofc differ. (This isnt including, what I assume, to be any negative effects to the Calling itself, since I really do doubt that there would be any, to reiterate.) )
