#ANYWAYS I AM. SO SORRY THIS TOOK AN ETERNITY AND IS SO LONG. AUGH. rambling is a full time job and brother i'm doing overtime

[throughtrialbyfire]

HEEHOO GET ⭐⭐⭐

HEHEHEHHEE OKAY since u sent three i'll pick three scenes bc i love. rambling. okay.

this one is going to be a slight continuation of the answer here, as this scene is from chapter 16 and relates directly back! this got long (like, REALLY long), so i'm gonna put it under a readmore. i'll be putting my notes between the paragraphs of the scene!

He narrowed his gaze down at them. Athenath shrunk back. Looked away. Every word that fled from the Bosmer's lips burned their ears. His voice, low, sturdy as an oak, varnished by years of what must have been an adventurous life, to have such a charisma to his words, to himself, no matter who he spoke to or where he went- It made Athenath realize just how small their own life was in comparison.

[Athenath is the youngest of the trio, and Emeros is the eldest. this creates an interesting dynamic between them when they get into spats like this one, over something fairly serious and fairly personal. athenath feels small in this moment because after the fight (and athenath was left to cool off a bit), emeros came to check on them and directly asked them what was wrong, and told them that he needs to know what set them off since they're gonna be traveling together. the fact someone he fought with sought him out after and checked in, was calm, considerate, and still stern… it's not something athenath is used to, to put it lightly.]

A beat passed, maybe two. People milled about in the market square, and Heimskr cawed on with his sermon, a bird hopping around a bear trap and daring it to snap shut on him. [you know. talos worship and the white-gold concordat and all that *waves hand*] "Maybe."

Emeros hesitated, leaning back against the bench, the sun-warmed wood meeting his spine through his clothes. "I suppose that's a fair answer. Perhaps I'm just surprised, is all." "You shouldn't be," Athenath snorted, the tinge of a sneer against their mouth, "one of the first things we did after that dragon bullshit is go up to those stones. I chose Thief, remember?" "Is that what you are, then? A thief?" If they said yes, then what would he think? And if they said no, then would it be worse to lie? Would it be easier to swallow the concept of a one-off impulse, or to see him and what he was? To lay bare the fact of their less honorable profession, Bravil's dirt-caked streets a bittersweet memory that gave them these quick hands, this sharp tongue? Athenath didn't look to the other Mer, instead drawing their focus somewhere on the horizon as they said, "yeah. Sort of."

[athenath has never mentioned having been to, or spent lots of time in, bravil. he's always told his friends he's from anvil and leyawiin, because they KNOW what reputation the city of bravil has, and that he spent a good few years there and learned how to be a better thief… it's a lot. and it would be a lot to admit to all of this, especially in the middle of this whole situation. also, not being able to stand looking directly at emeros. to face the fact they hid something they stole in his belongings. that they did something wrong and wronged someone he's starting to care about. AUGH………….]

Emeros pulled his ankle over his knee and drummed his fingers along the side of his boot. He sat a moment, eyes avoiding the other now, as well, his breaths slow. Steady. Controlled. "Well." "Well." Athenath repeated. "I'm going to presume that this isn't a recent development?" "Nope." "Then why," he leaned forward, worry etched into the lines of his mouth, dimpling at his cheeks, "why did you hide this? If we had known, we could… We could have-" "What, stopped me?" Athenath scrunched up their face. "It's not like this was some random urge. I did this 'cause I wanted to, y'know." The further admissions of guilt alarmed both of them, in a way. Emeros tugged his cowl from his head, letting it drape loosely over his strong shoulders. He set his jaw, as though he were struggling with a potion he'd only been taught once many years ago by a mentor he'd rather ignore than heed, the evident confusion melting into his features, the lowering of his brow and the tension in his jaw and the burden of concern in his eyes. He shifted his torso to face the bard further. "While not an impulse, it was still dreadfully impulsive, Athenath. And hiding it among my belongings, I assure you, will not earn you any favor with me. Quite the opposite, in fact."

[haha, the conse's are quencing.]

Athenath grit their own jaw and rolled their eyes in a wide arc. Emeros caught every inch of the expressions they made. The Altmer was on a ledge in their mind, balling their fists. The smallest fragments of places, people, actions long-taken, long-gone, all of it bled into him now, here, worn and tired from the tension. The bard bounced his leg, boot making tiny tapping noises against the stone as he avoided Emeros' gaze. Wouldn't even look him in the face. "He sold it to a Justiciar. If I can keep even one thing out of the Dominion's hands, I'll do it." "You didn't know who the customer was when you stole it, though." "And? Now that I know-" "Athenath." "Emeros." They shot each other's names out like darts. They sat, staring into one another's faces, both searching for an answer that wasn't there.

[i want to expand on this whole scene one day but for now this snippet gives a good overview of the situation - athenath made a mistake that is also a habit/profession. they did something wrong, and hid the evidence in the belongings of someone he's traveling with. who's to say the guards wouldn't have searched emeros' belongings? or wyndrelis'? who's to say if they hid it in wyndrelis' belongings, that the mage would even be mad? i mean, he wouldn't be happy, but he doesn't have the same hatred of the thalmor (on a deeper level than just thinking they suck) that emeros and athenath have, so it wasn't a random decision for me to make athenath hide stolen goods in emeros' bag.

now, emeros is confronting them on that mistake. he's setting boundaries and saying he won't tolerate that, and the fact that he's being stern but still trying to be friendly, trying to not let it show how betrayed he feels (he defended athenath from belethors accusations, after all) and still trying to make it all work even when athenath seems like he's pushing him away… it says a hell of a lot about emeros, i think. and it says a hell of a lot about athenath, too, that after this, he apologizes and makes a joke and finally looks emeros in the face. AUGH.]

oh that was a lot of typing im so sorry HAHAJKHGDFKJGHFDHG

i've focused a lot on these two, but we GOTTA give everyone's favorite anxious mage some love!! so i'm gonna focus on wyndrelis here >:3c this is from chapter 21!!

It bothered him, how much space this occupied. Not the image of someone bloodied and in need of help, that much he could handle. No, it was the nagging suspicion of something wrong. Someone pulling a trick, sleight of hand like a jester in the streets of the Imperial City, deceiving himself and his companions. That moment the scraggly Altmer had made the tiniest flick of a weakened wrist - the smallest thing that Wyndrelis seemed to be the only one to notice - the sour taste of metal latched to his tongue. Magic cast when someone was desperate. A spell from a mage without much left to give. And when he'd held a hand near the other, his own magicka had been met with a repelling force like the Dwemeri magnets he'd studied once with an old colleague. The ends opposing. A force meeting force, an uncomfortable sensation that pushed back against his hand. And what had he said about Illusion magic?

[this scene… ough. it's fair to say wyndrelis doesn't think highly of himself, which will show up later. but right now, let's focus on the magic: it's a tangible thing, it's an intangible thing. to me, magic is like the mycelium of energy - it extends outwards towards sources, it bumps into other sources, it changes course. when it's used, it can be felt by others proficient in the craft. hell, it can be tasted, smelled, and touched, depending on what the caster has done with it. and this scene is wyndrelis mulling over the events of chapter 19, the injured person they found off the road, and the fact that not all was what it seemed with that man. i think magicka can touch other magicka, and either be pulled in, muddled together, or repelled. and in this case, wyndrelis is wondering why there was such a strong, repelling force.]

The thick, dark clouds lowered into their slow graves in the hills, ground marshy and squelching under the boots of the farmers who checked now on their animals and their crops, returned to duties put off for the weather. Wyndrelis preferred to stay in the trio's room for the day, the sight of the hearth so near to him making his palms shake. He laid there in the dim, a book left behind by a former patron of the inn propped against a bent knee, reading silently as he struggled to distract from his unease. The sun sloped into the inn's high windows, or the half-alive vestiges of it, the light weak against the forces of the torches and hearthlight. Footsteps interrupted his thoughts, but he kept his eyes locked on the book, turning a page quietly.

[the trio had, only days prior, dealt with the fight at the western watchtower. and then wyndrelis and farengar's attempt at figuring out a staff in chapter 17 went wrong and caught the floor on fire. and of course, wyndrelis' personal history with fire is not a good one, so it's safe to say he's enjoying being away from the hearth and just… trying to relax.]

"You okay?" Athenath asked, leaning casually against the doorframe. Their arms folded over their chest and dark eyes locked on him, the Altmer gave the mage a quizzical look as he faced them momentarily before his gaze once more landed on the pages before him. "Yes." Athenath looked to be suppressing the momentary twitch of a frown. "You sure?" The Dunmer waited a moment before pushing himself up out of his recline, shoving his fingers through his dark hair until it was tousled and feathery. Explaining to the younger elf the situation seemed like an effort not worth taking. He doubted they would understand why he was concerned. The sights of the bodies, the putrid stench of death, all of it had jostled their nerves enough, no use telling them anything else, let alone that they may have sent something awful Whiteruns way with a handwritten note and a wave.

[this is a recurring theme of the other two elves underestimating athenath, frankly. it's both to do with their age - he's 24, which is still an adult to elves, but its also an age lacking a shitton of life experience among them - and their personality, where athenath tends to act very youthful, light-hearted, and cheery.

all of this congeals into the other two's underestimations of their bard friend. wyndrelis, being the middle of the trio, still falls into this trap himself despite not being that old compared to most elves. he's probably in his 50s-60s, chronologically. in a way, wyndrelis does want to protect both of his companions. he's actively healed them in dangerous situations before healing himself (bleak falls barrow, for example) and defended them with wards. but here, that protection also carries the weight of underestimation, which wyndrelis falls into subconsciously.]

He combed the strands into place with his hands. He couldn't find anything to occupy his attention other than the questions that burned holes in his ears no matter how hard he struggled. Could he even begin to explain the thoughts worming through his mind, burrowing deep into the subconscious parts, eating their fill on his suspicions? He couldn't. He rubbed at his shoulder. He shut his eyes and breathed in the warm air. His mind stagnated on the idea, how to explain, what to say. He wondered if Emeros held the same discomfort in his chest about the blond elf.

[a LOT of the imagery i use for wyndrelis has to do with things like death, decay, bones, ravens/crows, and etc. i love just pointing that out because it's a hell of a lot of fun. all three of them have their unique themes in imagery (emeros gets a lot of hawk/wolf imagery, and athenath gets a lot of cat imagery, for example), and this is a great example of it. and a continuation of his thoughts on the previous day, and his inability to just ask emeros or athenath if either of them have the same feeling. to say wyndrelis has low self-esteem is putting it lightly, and fears a negative response and a "what are you talking about? it's nothing" reply to his concerns.]

"It's a long story." He settled on his reply, words dripping out from his lips on the trail of a long exhale, Athenath traipsing easily over and plopping down into one of the creaking chairs in their room. Slinging their arms on the rests, he craned his posture lightly forward, intrigue in the knit of his brow. "Wanna get into it?" The offer could have been genuine, but the Dunmer had no faith in it. Mostly, he had no faith that they would even listen, or be interested. Wyndrelis shook his head. "No, no thank you."

[POINTS AT MY PRIOR POINT. wyndrelis' low self-esteem is a huge issue for him that he'll need to work through for the good of all three of them. he's an incredible mage, but that's all he feels competent with. and even when someone offers to hear him out, he rejects it, and even redirects the conversation after this.]

and now, this scene from chapter 6, which is hilarious and very telling, and relates back to the scenes i've commented on above in a way. its very light-hearted overall, so its a good piece to end on!

"I'm just glad we're not traveling during the Great War. Horrible time to be on the road, that was." "Really?" Wyndrelis arched a brow as he shut his bag and set it under his seat. "I wasn't traveling then." "You weren't?" The Dunmer shook his head again as Emeros leaned back in his chair, an arm slung over the back. "What were you doing during that time?" "I was still at home, working on my studies." Wyndrelis waved the admission away with an absent hand. "Gods, it was a mess. Every opportunistic bandit in all of Tamriel set upon some of those truly isolated roads. Not to mention, having to skirt battlefields and navigate around all of that… Well, I'm just glad that whole affair is done with." After a long pause, all eyes landed on Athenath, who shrunk back. "What were you doing during the Great War? Gallavanting about with your tambourine?" He teased, light-hearted in his tone.

[emeros spent most of his younger years traveling. he left home at 16, and traversed Valenwood until he decided his call to alchemy - difficult to practice with the green pact, y'know - was more important, and he went to cyrodiil for a while. then hammerfell, high rock, cyrodiil again, and now skyrim. he's got a hell of a lot of experience on the roads, and was actively traveling during the great war!

meanwhile, wyndrelis was working on his studies to join the synod one day. he is the only mage in his family for various reasons, and he was discouraged from pursuing magic. however, he still did, and he taught himself the basics at home. then he wound up in the college of whispers for other reasons, and there, he excelled. during the great war, he was studying, though.]

Athenath sat there, quiet. "Well, no, not exactly." The Altmer sat on the bed, the shaggy cut of their hair more apparent now that it was no longer neatly combed, curls running past their shoulders. His dark eyes were round and curious, but now, they tried not to look directly in the faces of either of his companions, flitting between the other two's hands or torsos, chin tucking to their neck. Emeros narrowed his gaze, his intrigue clearly piqued by the awkwardly mumbled statement. "What do you mean, 'no, not exactly'?" The alchemist questioned slowly. Athenath dragged their palms down their face, as though he'd been dreading this. Wyndrelis carefully observed as the bard heaved a loud, dramatic sigh, fiddling with a corner of their vest. He mumbled something the other two couldn't hear. "What?" Wyndrelis asked. Athenath looked up, frown creasing the edge of his lips. "I'm twenty-four. I was born a few years after the Great War." They uttered the admission with a level of embarrassment, and Wyndrelis understood why. An elven childhood lasted about the same length as any humans, the shortest period of their lifespans and often marked with celebrations, then their lives slowed, all things eased to a stroll as they grew older. This placed Athenath squarely in adulthood, but among other Mer, a young adult was treated as naive and lacking in the knowledge of their peers. Among humans or Khajiit or Argonians, this was grown out of quickly as responsibilities and families cropped up in those years, but among Mer, this was a particularly scathing presumption, treated less like capable adults and more like overgrown children, weeds among oaks.

[THIS okay this is what i was talking about earlier. okay. so the point made here is that while for non-elven people, these years would be marked by already having children, marriages, careers, or being in their studies and having sufficient experience in at least some fields (apprenticeships in early life, for example), among elves, this is seen as the time period where you're off to your studies/starting apprenticeships or getting out into the world. this is the time period where elves are expected to be quiet and learn their shit. athenath had a pretty rough start to being out on his own at 16, so they've had to figure things out and do their best, and he's encountered a lot of other elves who, upon learning they're not even in their 70s yet, discredit everything he says and brush away their opinions as those of a young lad who still has too much to learn to be taken seriously. and it gets to athenath a lot, and they don't like bringing up that he was born after the great war.]

"What?" Emeros' eyes widened, laughter brimming in his voice as he cupped his hands over his mouth. "My gods, I figured you looked a little young, but-" "Oh, shut up," Athenath plucked a coin from his own pocket and tossed it feebly at Emeros' shoulder, watching the glittering septim bounce off his form, the Bosmer laughing. Wyndrelis considered stepping in, but there was a humorous grin at the edge of the bard's mouth. Emeros picked the coin up off the floor, holding it between his thumb and forefinger. "Aw, is the infant feeling fussy?" He cooed in a mocking-sweet tone as he linked his fingers together, Wyndrelis stifling his own laughter. Athenath heaved a monumentally dramatic sigh, throwing their head against the mattress of the shared bed. Emeros chided, "none of that, now, you don't want to injure your soft spot." After the Altmer gave a strangled groan of frustration, Wyndrelis couldn't fight his urge to follow in the teasing. "Do you need a nap?" The Dunmer managed through his own tittering. Athenath's eyes locked on him and he plucked another coin in a slow, menacing manner. Wyndrelis held up his arms in defense, prepared for the gold to be tossed his way. Athenath plopped the coin back into his pocket with a sigh.

[this scene is so much fun for so many reasons. athenath expected the other two to treat them as lesser, but instead, they've taken that presumption all the way to its extreme for a joke. the trio JUST went through helgen and bleak falls barrow together, the respect for one another is already solidifying, and while this will have an impact that bites them all in the asses later, right now it's all jokes because how could they really see athenath as incapable of handling himself when they all JUST fought draugr and solved ancient puzzles together??]

"Come on, you don't even look much older than me. Weren't you a kid during the Great War, Wyndrelis?" Wyndrelis ticked his tongue. "I was in my twenties." Athenath pressed his face into their hands. The look he gave Wyndrelis through his fingers was a pouting plea for the other to help him out here, a little. "And I was already in my thirties when it ended," Emeros tutted, "so you can do the maths on that." Punctuating with a wink, he leaned back in his chair comfortably, the bard's grin sprawling wider.

[this scene still feels clumsy to me every time i read back, but i wanted to clearly establish all of this because it is important to how the trio react to events down the line. emeros will obviously, due to his own age and life experiences, have different reactions to situations than wyndrelis and athenath. the same can be said of the other two. and when those events happen, and when things get either hilarious or intense, they will have their own reasons for reacting the ways they do. after all, the experiences of someone on the road during the great war, vs someone studying at home, vs someone who wasnt born until like 6 years after are vastly different, and i felt the need to establish all of this. well, it still feels clumsy, but i'm not rewriting it again, damn it HAHJKHGJKF]

Linking their fingers together under his chin, he batted his lashes and put on a saccharine smile, coated in barely-concealed mischief. "Aw, then how was the Oblivion Crisis, pa?" Emeros sputtered and coughed, head jerked wildly at the question. "I'm not that o-"

[dont dish out what you cant take, emeros!! HAHAH]

"Terrible, Mannimarco was a nightmare for Mages' Guild recruitments," the mage replied dryly, pushing his glasses up his straight nose. The sound of Sven tuning his lute rummaged under the door, Orgnar making a droning comment somewhere in the middle of it all. Wyndrelis stood and stretched, the sound of the Altmer's laughter died out moments ago. "Let's have a look around town, then we can plan for tomorrow."

[i love throwing in a little mages guild reference. mannimarco my beloved <3 and its fun because, well, of course a mage would bring up the mages guild as a reference to the time of the oblivion crisis.]

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAND I AM SO SORRY THIS TOOK TEN MILLION YEARS. but i hope you did enjoy skimming through the commentary on these, i have a billion notes on all of these scenes and getting any chance to infodump about them will always leave me thinking things over for hours. thank you so much for sending the asks and i hope you enjoyed this absolute wiki article of an answer AAAAAAHKHDKJSHGF

director's commentary