I run a TES blog at shadows-of-almsivi.tumblr.com "I'd show you a roof where we could look on this poor country of ash-woven outcasts and share sigils. Share spears." Old/Vimer/Australian. Transitioning. He/they.
FUCK I can’t get over the idea of couriers riding around on slippies to get from place to place... maybe it becomes something of a symbol? Like you know you’ve seen a courier when you see some asshole on a slipp laden with packages running along an ancient highway.
fuck yeah dude!!! I LOVE THIS TROPE SO MUCH and couriers are such a PERFECT outlet for it boy oh boy
Drew this one in 2022 and I'm still incredibly happy with how the lighting ended up.
Veryn in the Imperial Prison at the start of my Morrowind fic.
The Imperial Prison ran deep, all the way down to the old Ayleid ruins below the City. His cell was below the lake, damp and cold even in summer. The lack of daylight ensured that Veryn was unsure how long he slept, but his exhaustion told him it was never enough. He tossed and turned, often waking himself up when he tried to move around and instead feeling the iron manacles dig into his wrists. They allowed his hands no more than a foot of slack, and had Daedric runes carved on the rim: an enchantment to cut him off from any magicka. Almost everyone could cast a few spells, but to Veryn, doing magic used to be as natural as breathing.
From Fear in a Handful of Dust, Chapter 1