Moon-kissed child of Hircine: / Accept mine proffered blessing do / So thou wilt never flee or rue. / From faun to fear-bringer, / Nadir to night-singer / Even the odds and return those who huntest thou to basest parts / Hearts and all.
My Skyrim Dragonborn, Vakna True-Thunder shortly after turning an unlucky band of highwaymen into a three-course meal. Wanted to make an illustration alluding to her history with lycanthropy and the Daedric Prince of Prey over the course of a decade. After all, where is the sport in hunting an unarmed prisoner on the run--a young messenger for the Jarl of Windhelm himself who had yet to see even her sixteenth winter? The pursuing Dominion jailers and hounds never had any intention of playing fair, blood moon or not, so Hircine offered the desperate girl the power to even these odds and make his forest a proper hunting ground once more. And in years since, she has certainly never let this power go to waste.
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Me: I'm color-coding it! [Explains system]
My sister: [chokes on a laugh]
Me: What?
My sister: Nothing, I was gonna say something but it's really mean.
Me: What is it? Like the suspected autism, or--?
My sister: No it's just, dude you're color-coding a cookbook. Get a job.
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More on letters, color theory, and magic fuckin candles later. For now, I’m just here.
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