#nilandur

[thana-topsy]

A Conversation on Grief

Had this little scene spring to life in my head yesterday while going through bouts of personal melancholy, and it was an absolute joy (despite the tone) to revisit my beloved Father and Son Duo.

A quiet moment between Aerik and Nilandur. On AO3 for those who prefer to read it there. Below the cut for anyone else who still cares about these two and have wondered what they might be getting up to.

-

The sun had long since set when the bell at the downstairs backdoor rang unexpectedly. Nilandur had just settled into his chair for the evening, a warm cup of tea in hand.

“Who in the world might that be?” asked Erandur from across the room. He was in the process of drying their dinner dishes, rag still in hand. 

“I haven’t the faintest,” said Nil, setting his tea down and getting to his feet once more.

“Want me to come with you?” Erandur offered. 

“Oh, I don’t think that’ll be necessary.” 

Nilandur descended the stairs silently, knees soft, his robe shushing across the freshly swept floorboards. He passed through the shop’s backroom and peered cautiously through the peephole. He could make out Aerik’s profile through the blurred glass and the dark night around him. 

“Oh!” He unlatched the lock and opened the door. “Aerik! What’s wrong? What’s the matter?” Because something was wrong. Aerik’s eyes were puffy, his shoulders hunched in an unusual posture. 

“Why’s something gotta be wrong?” his son countered with a forced smirk. “Maybe I just wanted to visit.”

“At this hour?” Nilandur gave him an emploring look, glancing over his shoulder, then back to his son. “Did… you want to come in?” 

Aerik hesitated, and something vulnerable and frightened passed across his expression, before he roughly wiped his nose against his arm and shrugged. “Nah,” he said. “I shouldn’t have bothered you.” 

“No!” Nilandur stepped forward to grab him by the shoulders. “Don’t say that. I’m very happy you’re here! I’m just–you have me a bit worried, is all. Is–” He swallowed the cold lump that had materialized in his throat. “Is everything alright…at home?”

“With Tel?” Aerik let out a watery laugh. “Oh yeah, don’t worry about that. He actually sent me over here. Or, well, he didn’t send me. Gently suggested it. Encouraged.” Aerik looked away with another laugh, his eyes brimming with tears.

“Aerik,” Nilandur said softly, running his thumbs in soothing circles over the front of his shoulders. “Come in, please. I’ll make us some tea.”

“Erandur up?”

“Yes, but we’ll sit down in the shop. Please.” He tugged gently, pulling him forward. “Come.” 

After briefly skittering upstairs to let Erandur know that all was well, that it was just Aerik, and that they’d need some privacy, he’d stolen a quick kiss before nimbly descending the stairs once again. He found Aerik wandering around the darkened storefront, peering aimlessly into ingredient jars.

“It’s kind of spooky in here at night,” he observed. “All these jars full of mystery ingredients.”

“Well, there’s no mystery, Aerik, they’re labeled.”

“Yeah, you know I don’t read.” 

Nilandur huffed a laugh. “That is a bold lie for a bard to tell.”

Aerik just waved a hand at him with a smirk. “So, what’s on the menu?”

Nilandur chose a new blend he’d been working on as their tea for the evening. It had a warming effect—a base of roasted snowberry and crushed dragon’s tongue with an imported spice mixture from Hammerfell—burnt and earthy on the first sip that settled into a lingering sweetness, slightly energizing without causing the jitters. Aerik stared into his cup without taking a sip, bouncing his leg nervously beneath the table. Nilandur waited, taking a sip of his own tea and breathing deeply.

“It’s the, uh…” Aerik began unprompted. “It’s the anniversary of her death. Mom’s.”

Nilandur’s stomach hardened, his fingers tightening imperceptibly around his own tea bowl. “Ah…” he said after a moment of silence stretched between them, thin and delicate like a spider’s thread. “How long–?”

“Seventeen years,” Aerik said before he could finish. 

Nil tucked his lips around his teeth, his gaze falling to the table. 

“I kind of thought,” he continued, his leg still bouncing. “I thought it would get easier as I got older, y’know? But now I’m just–I’m getting closer and closer to the age she was when she–” He hissed through his teeth, clenched his jaw against the crack in his voice. Cleared his throat. “And I just want to talk to her. I just wish I could… talk. Ask her about her life more than I did. About my grandparents. About–” He gestured into the empty air before letting his hand fall against the table with a soft thud. “Anything.”

Nilandur continued his silence, judging his place in this conversation. He was Aerik’s father, yes, but he rarely felt as though he’d properly earned such a title. Empty condolences over the death of a woman he hadn’t seen in over fifty years would ring too hollow. Too practiced. 

“I don’t believe I’ve ever told you about your grandparents on my side, have I?” he began softly, staring down into his tea. “Mostly because they aren’t terribly pleasant.”

“You can if you want,” Aerik said after a loud sniff. “Or not. It’s fine.” 

Nilandur took another quick sip of tea, cleared his throat, then looked up to meet Aerik’s eyes. “I was disowned.” 

Aerik lifted his brows slowly, his expression settling into something both surprised and interested. “You have not mentioned that before.”

Nilandur couldn’t help but laugh. “Well, it’s not a pleasant tale. And after living outside of Summerset for over a century, it’s all painfully ridiculous to look back on. The reasoning for it all, I mean.” 

“And what was the reasoning?” 

Nilandur offered a small, delicate shrug, drumming his fingers lightly on the rim of his tea bowl. “I’m a naturally inquisitive person. I had far too many questions concerning the ever-tightening control the Thalmor had over our lives.”

“And they disowned you for asking too many questions?” Aerik pressed. His leg’s bouncing had slowed to an occasional jiggle and he absently took a sip of his tea. “Oh,” he looked down into the cup, then took another sip, pausing to swish the liquid from cheek to cheek (making Nilandur wince). “Nil, that’s pretty good. That’s really good.”

“Thank you, dear. And, no, they didn’t disown me for asking too many questions. But it practically became an ideological battle field in our household. It escalated to the point of no return when they attempted to destroy my collection of religious books.”

“The Thalmor?”

“No, my parents. My father, specifically. I was quite grown at that point, but unwed, much to their persistent disappointment. So I was living under their roof.” Nilandur sighed. 

“Hey, you really stuck it to them then,” Aerik said with a conspiratorial grin, his tears forgotten. “Knocked up a Nord woman and then bagged yourself a Dunmer husband? So proud of you, pops.” 

Nilandur felt heat creep into his cheeks and ears. “Please don’t say it like that,” he said with a laugh. “You make me sound like some sort of rapscallion. Might I remind you that I spent nearly forty years of my life on an island of monks?” 

“Are the Psijics celebate?” 

Nilandur groaned, covering his face with his hands. “Aerik, please.”

“Kidding, Nil. Lighten up.” He took another sip of tea, leaning back in his chair, his shoulders relaxing. “So, book-snatching. I assume you didn’t let them?”

“I’m sure you’ve noticed over the years that I’m not well-known for my ability to stand up for myself.”

“I’ve noticed, yeah.”

“Well, they found my limit that day.”

Aerik let out a low whistle. “What did you do?” 

“Well, nothing too outlandish. Mostly just loudly protested their actions and forcibly reclaimed my property. I was then given an ultimatum: surrender the contraband and live under their roof, or keep my illicit knowledge and leave.”

“What kind of books were these?” Aerik asked. “Also, can I have some more?” He pushed the tea bowl across the table and pressed his hands together politely. 

“Funny enough, they were rather tame,” Nilandur continued as he refilled Aerik’s cup. “At least by today’s standards. But a few very openly questioned the prevailing dogma that the Thalmor were pushing. So, they were quite illegal.” He laughed self-consciously and handed Aerik the refilled tea bowl. “Illegal knowledge has always been a ridiculous concept to me. Ironically enough, it was the same philosophy that drove me away from the Psijics—this idea of hoarding knowledge, keeping it hidden away under lock and key.”

“You don’t think some knowledge deserves to be kept hidden?” Aerik asked. There was a curious tone to his question—something unsaid—as if he were conducting a test. It gave Nilandur pause. 

“Well… I do believe there is such a thing as dangerous knowledge. And I believe these things work best under the guidance of those who are wise enough to provide it. Take Urag gro-Shub, for instance. He is a Lorekeeper, yes, but he acts as a funnel as opposed to a gate. He can guide students appropriately. Or, at least, he has tried his best over the years.” Nilandur chuckled fondly. “I do hope he’s well.” 

“We’ll have to pay him a visit sometime,” Aerik said with a soft smirk. “It’s been too long since I’ve properly bothered the old geezer.” He heaved a heavy sigh, sitting back in his seat. “Thanks for telling me all that. I like hearing about your past, you know.”

“Well, I did have a point in bringing all that up. We just wandered a little off the path.”

“What point was that, then?”

Nilandur refilled his tea bowl, brow drawn as he prepared to broach the topic once more. “Grief,” he began. “Is more complicated than I think most believe.”

Aerik went still and silent. Nilandur didn’t look up from his cup. 

“I grieve the loss of my parents, though it’s very likely they are both still alive. I grieve what wasn’t there, what could have been. I grieve the pain that they surely endured in their own lives before they ever came together to create me.” He sighed softly through his nose. “And as you said, I expected it to become easier with time. But it does not. I wish that I could tell you that it does. 

“Instead, I find that grief feels more like… the ebb and flow of the sea. There are days when the water is high and you are drowning. You are drowning and you cannot see the shore—there is only wave after wave crashing over your head and the dark, fathomless depths beneath you as you struggle to keep your head above water—to even breathe.

“Then, there are days when the tides recede and you’re left gasping on the beach, shaking and drenched but alive. Surrounded by the wreckage of your grief. But you pick up the scattered pieces along the shoreline and you rebuild. And slowly, eventually, when the tides return, you are better prepared. You become a stronger swimmer, I suppose. But the tides will always come back—that is simply something you must accept about grief. But they will also recede.”

When Nilandur finally looked up, tears had returned to Aerik’s eyes, and he briefly worried that he’d made things worse. Then Aerik cracked a smile. A tear broke free and slid down his cheek, and he quickly wiped it away.

“That’s some good stuff, Nil. Ever consider the Bards College? In Solitude? I’m sure you’ve heard of it. I could write you a recommendation.” 

Nilandur laughed, though tears blurred his vision as well. “Yes, I hear your name carries weight there.”

“So,” Aerik said after a moment. “Are you… a strong swimmer?”

Nilandur laughed again—a watery, pathetic sound even to his own ears—and shrugged a little helplessly. “I don’t think so, no. If I’m honest, I feel like I’m drowning most days.”

They both fell silent, each staring into their respective cups. Nilandur swallowed around the tightness in his throat, the weight of his own melancholy threatening to drag him fully beneath the waves in that moment. He came to you for comfort, and you’ve made this about yourself. He took a shaky sip of tea, a tear escaping the corner of his eye before he could stop it.

“Forgive me, Aerik,” he whispered.

Aerik rubbed a hand roughly across his eyes and straightened with a loud sniff. “Whatever it is you’re asking forgiveness for, you’ve got it.” He got to his feet, eyes downcast, but motioned for Nilandur to get up. “C’mon.” 

Nilandur pushed shakily to his feet. “What–” Aerik’s arms were around him before he could finish the sentence, pressing his damp cheek to Nil’s shoulder. His hugs were always just shy of too-tight, but for once Nilandur gladly accepted the crushing embrace, returning it as best he could. Aerik was a large man, though still an inch or so shorter than him. He rested his temple against Aerik’s head, running a hand soothingly up and down his son’s back. 

“I love you so much, Aerik. Always come to me when you need to. Even if I offer terrible support.”

“You offer great support, fuck off,” Aerik replied with choked amusement. 

They pulled away and Nilandur took Aerik’s face into his hands, wiping away the tear tracks. “You look so much like her, you know.” It was a melancholy observation. “And you act like her, Divines help us all. It’s uncanny,” he laughed through the emotion. “She’s alive and well within you.”

Aerik nodded, expression pained but hopeful. “Yeah, I guess that’s how it works.” He put space between them with a cough and an overly expressive stretch. “Well, I think I’ve kept you from your adoring husband for long enough.”

“Oh, please, Aerik. Don’t feel like you have to run off. Would you like to come up and visit for a bit? I can make more of the same tea if you’d like.”

“Nah, it’s late. I should get back to my own adoring husband, though, y’know. He tries to play it cool on the whole ‘adoring’ aspect.”    

Nilandur smiled warmly. “Please give Teldryn my regards.”

He sent Aerik home with a jar of the new tea blend after finally convincing him to come upstairs to say hello to Erandur. Then, after a few more lighthearted farewells, he was on his way back to Breezehome. Nilandur watched him from the upstairs window as he made his way out of the market and down the main thoroughfare. Anxiety gnawed at his nerves, his stomach sour with regret. 

“Love,” came Erandur’s deep rumble from behind him. Warm arms encircled his waist and lips pressed between his shoulders. 

“I don’t know if I helped or made it worse,” Nilandur confessed. 

“You helped.” 

Nilandur turned around and allowed himself to be pulled down for a kiss—soft, reassuring. He let out a shaky breath and forced a smile. “I’ll trust you to tell me the truth.” 

“Always,” Erandur said with a soft laugh, tucking a loose strand of hair behind Nilandur’s ear. 

Nilandur kissed him again. “Thank you.”   

[enolezdrata]

June patreon/boosty requests, 10/10

Athiisa Fyrndel - @ser-corviknight​ Nilandur - @thana-topsy​ Isolde - Mossycoats Gaetan Sorel - Daniel Givens

[mongoose-bite]

4, 7 and 10 for the ask meme!

4. Share a sentence or paragraph from your writing that you’re really proud of (explain why, if you like)

They made their way verbally back through Nilandur’s published papers and physically to the sushi place near campus, which was both relatively cheap and popular, requiring them to perch on tiny stools and lean in close over tiny dishes and bottles of beer to hear each other. Nilandur did not fold well into these furnishings, which were sized for bosmer and he apologised profusely every time his knee knocked into Dyce’s under the table. Dyce resisted the urge to reach down and squeeze it. From here.

Topsy picked this one out in a comment and I agree.

7. What do you think are the characteristics of your personal writing style? Would others agree?

I have no idea. I know I have a writing style but I couldn't begin to describe it. I don't think my writing is particularly ornate or terribly sparse and I don't know what else to say. I leave that to other people, if they wish.

10 How would you describe your writing process?

What can I say, I'm a pantser.

[obsidianshadow]

Heyo long time, no art. I drew @thana-Topsy's Altmer boi, Nilandur, for a Draw This In Your Style challenge on Instagram! It was an excellent way to test out my new iPad mini and Procreate.

[ragingfreckledbetch]

@thana.topsy ‘s OC Nilandur! I’m sorry Topsy, I can’t color to save my life but I love him! #drawthisinyourstyle #notmyoc #skyrim #tesv #theelderscrolls #altmer #highelf https://www.instagram.com/p/B7-WQVAAJ19/?igshid=jqiz79zl3398

[thana-topsy]

First Lines!

Tagged by @mareenavee - thank you, my dear!

I tag @kookaburra1701 @dirty-bosmer and @greyborn2

Tag the first lines/first paragraph of three of your current works in progress!

I feel like I've shared most of my current wips to death over the past few weeks, so I'm going to pick three wips that probably won't see the light of day for a very long time, if ever.

"An Account of Artaeum"

(A journal-style fic detailing Nilandur's time as a Psijic)

Fifth of First Seed, 4E 169 – My Arrival  

The Isle of Artaeum was described to me many times in my youth, treated as something half myth, half history. A full account of the history of the Psijic Order was one of the Five Pillars of Altmeri education (before the events of the Void Nights), but it had been widely phased out by the time I entered university due to the Thalmor’s rigorous re-education guidelines. Despite this, the legends and lore of the Psijics lived on as part of our rich and varied history, even as the likelihood of their return to Nirn grew dimmer and dimmer with each passing decade. Never in my life could I have predicted their attentions might have been turned to me.

"Arvel the Hero"

(A thought experiment fic in which Arvel the Swift doesn't get hit by that swinging trap gate, but the LDB does. Uhhhh.... I'm gonna include more than just the first paragraph because it's my blog and I do what I want).

As soon as Arvel pulled free from the last of the frost spider’s webbing, he bolted. 

The man who’d cut him down let out a shout of surprise. “Hey! Get back here you slippy shit!”

Fool, Arvel thought with a grin. Why should I share the treasure with anyone? And by the look of his rescuer (and his sour-faced Dunmer companion), they didn’t seem like the type too keen on sharing either. Harknir, Bjorn, and Soling were as good as dead.  

His feet pounded against the stone floor as he ran as fast as his legs would carry him. He skidded around a corner and through another hall of burial chambers. The slope of the floor carried him faster, almost too fast. He skidded around a large pillar, hooking his fingers into the rock to swing himself around the bend, gaining more momentum. His pursuers were hot on his tail, the clank of their armor close. He sprinted ahead, moving too fast to notice the raised stone plate in the floor until he was on top of it. A trap! 

Time seemed to slow to a crawl as his foot landed on the very edge of the pressure plate, and for a split second Arvel thought he’d managed to step around it. Then it sank beneath his weight, immediately followed by a clunk and a groan as the trapped gate unlocked. His step faltered, his joints locking up with fear, and he teetered precariously between moving forward and falling down. The spiked gate was swinging towards him with a shriek like a wounded beast. It would kill him. He would die in this gods-forsaken crypt. 

Fueled solely by an animalistic will to survive, he leaned into his off-balance momentum and sprung sideways, diving headfirst into an open crypt. A skeleton clattered and crunched beneath his hip as the massive gate missed his outstretched foot by only a few inches. There was a scream, cut short by a wet thunk, and Arvel watched from the crypt as the spiked gate slowly swung back into place, its spikes stained red and glistening in the low torchlight. 

“Shit!” He let out a hysterical laugh that trailed off into a wheeze. “Oh shit…” The trap had taken his pursuer out. What luck!

"Send Your Child Unto Me"

(Working title, lol. My Dark Brotherhood fic that I'll probably be picking away at for years to come at this point lol).

Caius returned to consciousness slowly. 

His head felt like it had been split down the middle, pounding in time with his pulse and sending bursts of electricity deep into his eye sockets. He groaned, if only to prove to himself that he wasn’t dead–that he could still make noise. As he opened his eyes, the room materialized in a blur of nauseating angles. Dried drool plastered the side of his cheek and his right arm had gone numb beneath his own body weight. He made a gurgling, frustrated sound as he attempted to move, flattening his hand against the ground in an attempt to push himself upright.

Wooden floor. 

The air around him was stagnant and foul-smelling, like piss and sweat. There were noises, but everything sounded as if Caius’ head were under water. 

“Well, well, good morning.”

[thana-topsy]

omg i know they arent winning the poll but PLEASE show us your psijic altmer oc that’s so interesting and i’d love to see!! if you want to of course haha

Ahh Nilandur! Thank you, he appreciates your interest LOL

He'll definitely get his character bio soon enough! One of my friends said "I voted for Nil because I wanted to see him exposed to Tumblr as a mess." And she's right. He's an absolute disaster.

[thana-topsy]

2 things: 1. ever since ive stumbled upon your ao3, no other, and i literally mean *no other* author even comes close to scratching the same itch. the way you portray every single character you write is honestly just so brilliantly done!! same goes for your art. pretty men & mer as far as the eye can see omfg 2. what voices do you imagine for your ocs? for example i myself could imagine nilandur to be voiced by keith silverstein :3 (AND I LOVE NIL SO MUCH I WISH HE WAS IN THE GAME)

KIND ANON, thank you so much for your words! Apologies for taking so long to reply!

Ahhhh the Voice Claim question. Y'know, it's funny, a lot of my characters have very distinct voices in my head, but it's been so difficult to find appropriate VCs for any of them. Except for Aerik -- he just sounds like Chris Pine in my head alskfja. Specifically Captain Kirk style Chris Pine, with a dash of Jack Frost. (I cannot describe the noise I made when the new DND movie trailer came out and I saw that the man would be playing a fucking bard.)

But as for Nilandur, I actually settled on Paul Bettany for his voice claim, and more recently, specifically his role in Master and Commander (which, I only saw this movie for the first time a couple of months ago, and I was just blown away by how very ~Nilandur~ Bettany's character is in this role - mannerisms, speech pattern, morals, etc. The clip I linked is pretty quiet, but I think it does a good job of showing his speech pattern. Also CW!!: click off before 1:45 unless you wanna see a guy getting flogged lol).

Harukar and Aiden also both have very distinct voices in my head, but I have yet to find good Voice Claims for them. Harukar sounds very similar to Nazir in terms of depth and timbre, but with a slight British-Arabic accent. Aiden is somewhat similar to Nilandur, but more nasally, a bit quicker in his speech patterns, and shifts in-and-out of a more high-born accent vs something considered lower class.

I'll continue to ramble if I don't cut myself off there. Thanks for such a fun question and such a high compliment!

[thana-topsy]

Sad Elf Dad Club - Nilandur and Aiden

[thana-topsy]

Fic Writers Self-Rec

I've been tagged by so many lovely people in my time away from tumblr! Thank you so much to @gilgamish @mareenavee @changelingsandothernonsense @kookaburra1701 and anyone else I might have missed tagging me in this one.

I tag @expended-sleeper @mongoose-bite @banjotea @turbo-toast and @yesjejunus

Rules:

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love!

Halfway to the Sky An obvious choice I think! This fic is my absolute baby. Driven by a purely OC cast, it was kind of a gamble to release into the wilds of fandom, but I'm just eternally grateful and humbled by the amount of support I've gotten through the process of writing it. To say it's been a life-changing story for me is an understatement.

Hollow Men This fic was a genre switch-up for me. I'd never really written a "Recovery Fic" before, and it certainly pushed me out of my comfort zone. But it was one of those that tore its way out of me, just desperate to get out of my head. And I learned so much about writing and about myself. It'll forever hold a special place in my heart. Also an OC-heavy narrative that showed me I could, in fact, drive a story without an NPC anchoring me to the world.

Breathing Water / Liminal Bridges Pardon the two-fer, but I had to include the sequel in this! Breathing Water was a HUGE turning point in my writing. It was the first time I'd written a super compact narrative beginning to end before posting the story. So I was able to really refine the story, plot out appropriate foreshadowing, and wrap everything up neatly. And then Liminal Bridges, a sequel born out of a pure love of Neloth and Teldryn and wanting to see them bounce around in the world some more, has spun off into something so wild and wonderful that I can't wait to start sharing new updates again.

How to Build a Home (or Die Trying) A lesser-known fic of mine, this one I wrote at the very beginning of lockdown in 2020 and it taught me a LOT about flash-fiction, vignette storytelling, time skips, and pacing. That, and I'd wanted to write something with Ralis for a while at that point. It was a fantastic remedy for a rough year. Quickburn with some well-earned fluff.

Finding Mara A spin-off of a sequel, this is one of those fics that I am so incredibly proud of, fond of, and was kind of the prototype for stories like "Hollow Men" and "Halfway to the Sky". It was poking at a lot of themes that I wanted so badly to explore, but didn't yet know how. Nilandur is a character who, in so many ways, changed who I am as a person.

[thana-topsy]

Amazing set of questions! Let's go with one that can say a lot

6. What is their opinion on Skyrim's "bandit problem"?

Ooh yes, the real divisive one! I'm gonna give some character hot takes:

Aiden (before leaving the College):

"I didn't realize there was a bandit problem..."

Aiden (after leaving the College):

"SOMEBODY SHOULD DO SOMETHING ABOUT THIS."

Harukar:

"Everyone is surviving as best they can in these difficult times. I cannot judge a man who is driven to desperation. But they must understand the risks involved in such a lifestyle. As well as the consequences."

Sarel:

"Has anyone asked them why they decided to become a bandit?"

Nilandur:

"These are desperate people who are hurting and in need of support! If there were more available resources and social programs in place, people wouldn't feel the need to turn to such a brutish and violent life."

Aerik:

"Bandit problem? Not for long."

Corimir:

"Absolute depravity. A glimpse into the crumbling infrastructure of a country torn asunder by its own stubborn pride and refusal to submit to change."

Elanwe:

"I managed to talk my way out of a robbery once. They're just people at the end of the day. But I will fucking kill them if they test me."

SEND TWEET

[thana-topsy]

I'd like to whip up some character bio sheets for some of my more prominent OCs -- to have both for reference purposes and for funsies -- and I felt like using the poll function to help me determine in which order I'll make them! And that's called "engaging with tumblr" baby.

[thana-topsy]

Building off of the animal oc question, what animals would Aerik, Nilandur and the Halfway to the Sky cast be?

This was a super fun question, anon! Sorry for the delay!

Nilandur is probably the easiest answer, because I mention the animal so often in his stories: rabbit. He's nervous and jumpy and on high alert, but very affectionate once he trusts you. And he's always munching on greens lol.

I've always joked that Aerik is an "overgrown golden retriever", but honestly he's more rough around the edges than that. Still some kind of dog, though. Maybe more of the rugged Skyrim variety, a la Meeko. He's got the loyalty, the protectiveness, but also the fun-loving nature of a big old wolfhound.

Sarel is a tough one! My gut instinct was to say an albino fox, maybe a little minx, or an animal of that nature. Something built for winter, cute on the surface, but resourceful and even a little cunning.

Aiden has always been associated with a deer in my brain. Again, similar to Nil, he's skittish and flighty, but has the ability to use his horns if necessary. Still a prey animal in his heart of hearts lol.

Harukar I bestow the honor of the wolf. He's most comfortable in a pack, values loyalty and teamwork, but can absolutely tear someone's throat out if provoked.

Thanks so much for the ask!! Loved this.

[thana-topsy]

Topsy, I’m curious, have you ever drawn Ulfric? I’ve just spent some time scrolling through your drawing tag and I couldn’t see anything, I think he’d look awesome in your style

You don’t have to answer this publicly if you don’t want to, I’m just a curious LDB/Ulfric shipper, don’t mind me 😆

Hope you’re having a good day ☺️💙

I have! But not for many years. I briefly shipped him with my OC, Nilandur, but their relationship kind of imploded in my fanfic canon lol. It was never going to last… but it did provide some good story angst for a while. I wouldn’t mind drawing him again since my art has improved a lot over the past 4 years, but in the meantime here’s my favorite Ulfric drawing that I’ve done, him wearing pajamas:

2019 Topsy Art. Back when life was much simpler lol.

[thana-topsy]

Askgame: Question 20 for Every OC please and thank you

"Can they read?"

Aerik: Selectively Nilandur: Yes Corimir: Yes Elanwe: Yes Aiden: Yes Harukar: Yes Sarel: What kind of insensitive question is that? (Yes, but only with his fingers).

[thana-topsy]

Random question #2 - if you could sit down and talk to any of your OC's in person for one hour, who are you talking to and what are you asking?

Oh that would 100% be Nilandur. One hour wouldn’t be enough. I don’t know if I’d have any question in particular, but I’d love to just chat and talk about magic, spirituality, tea blends.. anything, really.

Second place would be Harukar. I’d listen to him talk about anything…

Such a cool question! Thank you so much.