Something I did around the Valentine's day to see Voryn in a pink dress
Mzulan (arms crossed, standing outside a Tribunal ruin with a disgusted squint):
“They still have the ears. Still have the eyes. Still carry the same smugness in their posture. But now they burn incense and call it forgiveness.” (Spits in the ash.) “No. I remember the Chimer.”
Even after thousands of years—and despite becoming something more nuanced, more contemplative—there are scars that don’t smooth with time. And one of them walks like a Dunmer and chants like a saint.
Arrogant. Devout. Reckless.
Obsessed with Daedra, ancestral veneration, and destiny.
Constantly clashing with Dwemer logic, despising atheism, and mocking technology.
Viewed the Dwemer as “soulless smiths” and “machine-slaves.”
“They called us godless. We called them pyromaniacal dreamers with shiny rocks and egos.”
He returns to a world where the Chimer have become the Dunmer, broken by betrayal, shadowed by gods and sins alike.
His reaction?
“They changed skin, not structure. Still pray before breaking things.”
He sees some worthy individuals among them. But as a people?
“You built your culture on a foundation of corpses and whispers, and now wonder why it creaks when you walk.”
He especially distrusts:
Ashlander mystics (“Desert philosophers wrapped in guilt and silt.”)
Tribunal scholars (“Gods made of ego. Temples made of apology.”)
Dunmer historians (“They rewrite us as villains to make themselves tragic. I take that personally.”)
On a Telvanni Wizard:
“Floating in a mushroom tower. Still compensating for something.”
On a Dunmer priest of Azura:
“Oh good. The Moon Mistress still collects worshippers. Tell her I remember her favoritism.”
On seeing Velothi architecture still standing:
“Of course it’s still standing. Chimer buildings collapse only when someone stops praying. Or thinking.”
On a young Dunmer trying to reconcile cultures:
“I respect your effort. But understand this: Your ancestors tried to burn out my gods and shatter my truths. I’m not ready to dance in the ashes with you just yet.”
She wants peace. She sees the Dunmer as wounded descendants trying to climb free of their ancestors’ chains.
Her line:
“They carry their guilt like relics. You carry your memory like armor. Perhaps neither of you are free.”
Mzulan replies:
“Freedom isn’t the goal. Truth is. And I remember who lied the most.”
“The Chimer never respected silence. They filled it with prophecy. With fire. With screams. We filled it with equations. I still hear both when I dream. One calms me. The other... wakes me.”
This hit home, and I think it will resonate hard with all my creative friends, here. You are amazing and brilliant and I BEG YOU to keep creating!! ❤️❤️❤️
I'm fucking dying at this page someone shared on Bluesky.
Behold, the Embroidery Trouble Shooting Guide that forgot to close its <h3> tags.
reblog if you’re okay with people writing fanfics of your fanfics and/or fanfics inspired by your fanfics
I for one think the symbiotic relationship between Tumblr and AO3 is beautiful
The trio is having a well deserved rest after a day full of adventuring and dragonslaying.
I don't know what they're talking about here, but I'd imagine Kharjo and J'zargo are trying to convince Faenil of something. They usually wait until Faenil is all happy and drunk until they ask for a day off or whatnot.
⚝ #1 Public Nuisance ⚝ ENFJ 7w6⚝ Psychology, literature, story games (Fallout/The Elder Scrolls, DMC, Destiny, Cyberpunk, etc.)⚝ Traditional artist
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