mydearfyr-blog

[mydearfyr-blog]

[ A Septim-That-Is-Not-Martin-Septim approaches Divayth Fyr. His voice should be quite familiar to the Telvanni legend. ] Thank you for keeping the Amulet safe. I trust you will not let it fall into Thalmor hands.

Sire, you are aware of the possible ramifications of possession, are you not?  I am not unaware of the uniqueness of your situation, but regardless, there are inherent dangers regarding the dead in bodies not their own.

[Divayth says it in a polite tone, but there’s an element of urgency there.  Dunmer are comfortable with spirits more than any other people, but nevertheless, a spirit in the body of a man he’s recently talked to is cause for alarm, Uriel Septim or not.]

[mydearfyr-blog]

Are you interested in Shouting?

No.  There is a surge of scholarly research into the art, a level of interest unseen since the days of Tiber Septim, but I am Chimeri still in my heart and have not forgotten the likes of Hoag Merkiller.

[mydearfyr-blog]

Pumpkins.

Useful.  Relatively nonperishable in comparison to more delicate reagents.  They are one of the few Cyrodiilic plants that survives importation into Morrowind in a fresh, non-preserved state.  One must acquire alchemy ingredients in a state as close to life as possible.  When dried, the effects diminish or mutate.

[mydearfyr-blog]

What is your opinion on fluffy argonians?

The only one I have met in recent years fundamentally misunderstood a basic fundamental of sharing the road with others, which is to say that one must not fluff in a defensive posture over some imagined slight.

[mydearfyr-blog]

BABIES.

No.  For many reasons, no.  I am not made for parenthood.  That is the province of others, those who are younger and still have patience left.

[mydearfyr-blog]

[And so Divayth Fyr continues on to wherever he's going with a little more spring in his step because reactions to levitation never get old.]

[Kriket just squawks and darts off because Dunmer should not fly ]

[mydearfyr-blog]

Muffins?

They're Cyrodiilic, aren't they?  Maybe they're from High Rock.  I can't say that I've ever had one, but Divayth has tried everything twice.  Unless we have guests at the tower, we don't have Cyrodiilic food.  Or High Rock food.  Is there a lot of difference between the two?  The Imperials favor their wheat noodles more than Bretons do, but it seems to me that they both eat a lot of cheese, stew, fruit, and the same sort of meats.  It's different but it's not different in the same way that Bosmeri cooking and Dunmeri cooking are.  Or maybe they are.  I don't know anything about food except how to eat it.  Beyte is the one who does all the cooking.  Divayth has tried before, but he has a habit of wandering off and letting things boil over.

[mydearfyr-blog]

What's my opinion on...? Finish the sentence.

[mydearfyr-blog]

[Divayth has places to go and all of those places involve going past an irate Argonian and his patience only goes so far, so rather than wait for her to defluff, he levitates over her.]

[Kriket is unconvinced. And still fluffy. She lets out a warning hoot for him to go away, ignoring that she seems intent on not letting him out of her sight.]

[mydearfyr-blog]

That is wholly unnecessary.

[Kriket is inching around him in a counter-circle, unwilling to let him out of her sight.]

[mydearfyr-blog]

[Divayth inches away because he's fairly certain he's distressing her.  He's quite aware that Argonians have very good reasons to be wary of Dunmer.]

I mean no harm.  I am only passing through.

[She gets impossibly fluffier. Those feathers are practically standing on end. Blue eyes are wide, as are pupils.]

[mydearfyr-blog]

So far, what do you think of Martin Septim?

He is anomalous but in context of the current mythopoeic climate, only moderately surprising.  I suspect that he is acting as he is supposed to be.  I am thankful he has the good sense to entrust the Amulet of Kings into my care instead of holding on to it.  Young men -by which I refer to gender, not race- are headstrong and often insist that only they may guard whatever valuable object, only to fall in battle or be pickpocketed, and so many priceless treasures of Nirn are lost.

I suppose it is fitting that lost Martin Septim turns out not to have the look of Colovia about him at all.  After all, it is said that the first Empress of Cyrodiil was raised in the Niben.  It is said, that is.  I cannot verify for certain as I was living in a merrow-reed hut at the time and preparing for the Psijics.  Learning with no measure of uncertainty where exactly a heartland human ruler hailed from was not a priority at that time.

[mydearfyr-blog]

Divayth Fyr.  The wizard.

[Her feathers do not go down, but she hoots out] Who?

[mydearfyr-blog]

Did you and Sotha Sil ever paint each other's nails?

There was an occasion where I painted his face.  This was when we were young, prior to his ascension in a timeline that few remember.  It is hard even for myself to believe I was ever young and foolish.

[mydearfyr-blog]

[vanishing because of a doctor's appointment, but hey, new followers!  Going to set up starters when I get back.]

[mydearfyr-blog]

Do you miss Sotha Sil?

His death was inevitable.  Even the mythic dies eventually.  I remain.  I am not blind to the true nature of the Tribunal, yet I mourn him just the same.  We were intellectual partners of a sort.

[mydearfyr-blog]

[you guys look this cow is SO FLUFFY

LOOK AT ITS LITTLE LEGS

uupse fyr steals it and rides it off into the sunset]

((i wont rest, i wont eat, i wont sleep until i get the headcanon out that fluffy cows (not just highland sort) exist in skyrim

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