#niraen has such a formal way of speaking and writing compared to my other ocs

[nightingaletrash]

📖 for Niraen Rilis! (I've also been having lots of fun with these journal entries! Its a great way to explore a character and their personality!! :P)

[The journal looks well cared for, with the binding looking as though it was replaced relatively recently. The pages show signs of age, yellowing at the edges, and some have pressed flowers between them from all different parts of Tamriel. The handwriting is tidy and relatively free of smears. Above the first entry is a painstakingly drawn image of Phaer.]

16th Midyear 2E 523

I finally leave tomorrow. Mother has been working the forge all day, making sure that I have the finest arms and armour she can give me for the journey, and Father has been saying his prayers to Auriel. It will be strange to leave alone this time. Any time I have gone further than Silsailen has been with Mother or Father. But it is time, and if I hesitate now I will never go. If I want to be a Templar like Father before me, then I have to see Tamriel for myself, and I must survive it myself.

Kyriel has been sulking all day, no doubt still protesting over her being left behind. She is still very young though, and I cannot promise that I will be able to keep her safe just yet. She resents this of course. Eight years old and she thinks herself very much learned of the world. One day perhaps we will travel together as sisters, when she sees how much growing she has left to do, and she is better prepared. For now, she must be content with dreaming and studying.

[There is a series of beautifully detailed sketches of three other altmer, a man, a woman and a young girl. The man, though aged, is smiling brightly and handsome in his age with flecks of silver in his hair. The woman is similarly handsome, her face lined and a steely look of determination flashing in her eyes. The girl is smiling too, and even in ink the fiery determination in her eyes is clear.]

[The page

24th Midyear 2E 526

I arrived in Wayrest yesterday just as the Dancing Day celebrations were underway. Every person in the city must have been in attendance, and I have never seen such a blatant disregard for the usual castes of society. Nobles danced with beggars, orc children danced with their breton counterparts. It was unlike anything I have seen and I have not had such fun since we last went to the Skywatch Celebration. Summerset feels worlds away here in High Rock. I have to remember to find that wine Father mentioned in his last letter and send it home. I know he would love a chance to have it again.

New whetstone

Mulled wine

Bone from the butcher’s for Xerxes

Salted meat

Sword oil

Something for the hangover - will have to ask the local alchemist

[A later entry is written in a much more shaky hand, as if the writer was trembling as she wrote it. The ink is smeared in places and there are stains on the pages, some of which look suspiciously like dried blood.]

3rd Hearthfire 2E 535

It is my fault. I let my guard down. I became arrogant and thought I could handle anything, and now they’re dead. Auriel forgive me, the fault is my own. The werewolves were more cunning than I had suspected and turned my own arrogance against me and lured me into a trap. I thought them mindless beasts and fell right into it. I am fortunate to have escaped relatively unscathed - the healers have confirmed I did not catch lycanthropy - but the villagers could not say the same. They are all dead, torn apart by the wolves I promised I would protect them from.

I would bury them myself, I owe them that much, but Spinner Lathaniel is quite insistent I rest and allow my wounds to heal. She is perhaps the most forceful bosmer I have ever met, and coupled with my injuries, it was enough to put a stop to my protests. But I must know better. The lives of those people were depending on me and I failed them. I must do better, else I will fail them again.

[There is a drawing of a bosmer settlement shaped from the trees surrounding and amongst it. Dappled sunlight shines through the canopy and bosmer can be spotted amongst the branches and settled between the roots of their homes. There are no pressed flowers, but intricate and detailed drawings take their place.]

14th Second Seed 2E 582

My first month back in Auridon since leaving all those years ago, and so much has happened. Once upon a time, nothing ever seemed to happen here, and it was the most boring place in the world for a young mer with a head filled with dreams and ambitions. Or perhaps more happened than she could see. My first day back in Vulkhel Guard and I ended up imprisoned, framed for an attempt of regicide, only to escape and become an agent to the Queen for whose murder I was to be framed for!

Phaer has not fared nearly so well, however. I arrive home for the first time in decades and I find that a plague has swept into the village. Mother, Father and Kyriel (who has only grown more resentful since I last saw her) are well enough at least, but many of the villagers have been moved into the old crypts which now serves as a quarantine. Hendil and Amuur are doing their best, but not everyone is convinced that their efforts are actually yielding results. Perhaps I will go to see them tomorrow and offer my help. There must be something I can do.

12th Frostfall 2E 582

I saw Gathwen at the Elden Root Mage’s Guild hall earlier today. She has been continuing her research, trying to find a way to free Rurelion from Uldor. The number and complexity of her ideas is remarkable, the Dominion is lucky to have her. We spent a good deal of our time talking, so much so that neither of us realised how late it was until the candles had nearly all burned out. I am sure the Magus will not let us forget that. I don’t remember a time I could speak with anyone for such length. I think I enjoy Gathwen’s company.

Now I have to make sure that she never finds out about the jail thing. It is bad enough having Raz reminding me of it every two minutes.