#ancient falmer

[aldruiel-scribbles]

No one talks about how atmorans brought the Dragon Cult when they came to Skyrim, and maybe the snow elves didn't want a dragon or dragon priest to have the Eye of Magnus and that's why they also attacked (I know there're more reasons to it).

It is said that initially Snow Elves welcomed them, and even traded with Atmorans. Until relationships got really tense, culminating with the Night of Tears. Perhaps tensions were high because dragons were expanding their territory and demanding that everyone worshipped them.

We know Atmorans were having a civil war back in their homeland. A religious civil war. Yes, again. Precisely because of dragons. People were tired of been forced into servitud, and wanted to keep worshipping their other gods in peace (Moth, fox, hawk, whale, dragon etc. Latter in time they molded the gods with their animals representation), instead of just dragons. Like a prelude to the dragon wars. But somehow these cultists won and Atmora froze (not just cold, but it is said that also frozen in time).

In my opinion Snow Elves, did not want any of that Dragon Cult bullshit and fought against it. Yet with dragons and the Thu'um on the atmoran side, their magic wasn't enough to defeat them.

We know so little, and it's the rhetoric of the winners. After all the only information we have of that conflict is of Nordic sources.

[botcomplex]

Werebear art!! Werebear art!! While I've actually been playing more Dragon's Dogma than I have any TES game (Skyrim most notably) I bought a resold Elder Scrolls themed adopt a few weeks ago and decided "y'know what? this character would look cool if they were a mfin werebear" And bing bam boom here's the bear! This was really fun to draw lol If you were also wondering what the adopt was, here's what her design looks like:

This ancient Falmer (Snow Elf) gal was originally designed by gelynele (https://www.deviantart.com/gelynele) on Deviantart, and I bought the resold design off of someone going by lunarlion! I love the Ancient Falmer lore and thought she was really cool lol

[mansikka-draws]

Hehehe mede a new ldb oc, Elsinore (they/he)

I can't decide if they shoud be more blueish or not ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Anyway, they were experimented on by dwemer researcers of the elder scrolls to make a living lexicon, but due to complications was put in a coma to heal. They were foud in the dwemer ruin by a group of explorers a year before the beginning of the game. They wear a mask most of the time, but I haven't decided on what it looks like yet.

[came-out-of-the-coffin-desisted]

my haaaaaands are still fucked uuuuuup but when they’re unfucked up i’m gonna draw smth so sexy and delicious for my new skyrim oc i can see the comp in my mind’s eye it’d just make my hands fall off if i tried to draw it

[gaymergirlie]

The LDB I mainly play with Tally is Helena, full name Helena Adelaise Mede. She’s the granddaughter of Titus Mede II and is also related to the Carvain dynasty of Bruma. However people began to grow more and more disillusioned with the Empire, particularly after the Great War, and Helena decided to renounce her title and seek something else for herself. She initially headed for Bruma, however ended up deciding not to stay and instead traveled to Skyrim.

Idk I wanted to play around with the concept of someone belonging to the Emporer’s bloodline being named Dragonborn. I feel like there’s a lot of untapped potential there.

What kind of backstories do players have for their Dragonborn?

Currently working on a future script and would like some input if anyone is willing to share their stories.

[xxoopsiedaisiexx]

*crashes into the elder scrolls scene*

ive been lurking for ages but im finally actively working on my main elder scrolls oc Lierre -

he’s an ancient Falmer priest with too much mystery to handle

[thana-topsy]

Sarel was only a few months old when he was abducted from the Alftand caverns as part of a college-sanctioned research project to study the intelligence, development, and magical ability of the Falmer. His abductor and head of the project, Aiden, was a disgraced mage from the College of Sapiarchs on a mission to prove his worth as a formidable scholar. Aiden operated under the assumption that the Falmer were a "devolved" race and did not possess the ability to communicate or develop past most basic functions. This assumption all came crashing down around him when Sarel developed at the same speed as any elf child -- curious, inquisitive, emotionally expressive, and communicative.

As Sarel grew and developed, Aiden stopped thinking of him as an experiment and began to see him as his son. Being the only child at the College of Winterhold, as well as fully blind, presented many stumbling blocks for Sarel's upbringing, resulting in him having a very sheltered experience. Aiden was also hesitant to reveal to him the full history of the Falmer, and also kept the nature of his adoption hidden from him. Sarel grew up without knowing he was an "experiment".

On his 11th birthday, a stranger showed up at the College of Winterhold asking after him. The stranger was a man named Harukar -- a Redguard vampire hunter with the Dawnguard -- and he'd recently met Gelebor in his quest for Auriel's Bow. Knowing that there was a modern Falmer being raised at the college piqued his curiosity and gave him hope that the Falmer were not an irredeemable, lost race of elves. He wanted to pass this news onto Gelebor, but inadvertently ended up triggering a chain of events that resulted in Sarel being sent away from the college to "be with his own kind".

A distraught Aiden agrees to travel with Harukar to deliver Sarel to Gelebor. [Their story is the plot of "Halfway to the Sky", so I won't be spoiling how it ends here!]

When Sarel turns 16 he returns to the College of Winterhold to complete his "formal" training as a mage. His story after that is tentative and ever-shifting, but he goes on to be a formidable scholar in the field of ancient Dwemer research as well as modern Falmer anthropology, acting as a translator and ambassador. Eventually, much later in his life, he assumes the role of Arch-Mage at the College of Winterhold, promoting cultural exchange and study between the College and the Alftand settlements.

[rustyram035]

❄Little Falmer baby named Galibal;3❄

He is a son of Kedrion (my ancient falmer oc and bosmer Zarwyn)

So, Kedrion is a scientist and therefore caught fire with the idea of raising a wild falmer. It's more of a scientific interest than a father's love, but I think he'll get into it.

[hjornthewizard]

Something I often think about is what Falmeri cities would've looked like.

If you examine the Merric Races, many of them utilize their natural surroundings as buildings in unique ways. Dunmer are seen living in giant Mushrooms, Bosmer live in trees, and i have my own theories about Maormer and Ayleid settlements.

If you extrapolate from these examples, it seems likely that at least a portion of Falmeri structures would be similarly adaptive of surrounding enviromental material. Thusly, I propose that many Ancient Falmeri building were made of Ice and Snow.

Imagine towers of Ice, gleaming in the winter sun, expertly carved with artwork, patterns and magick to preserve and enhance the material. Ice Temples whose walls reflect rainbows into their interior, showcasing the beauty of Magnus' /Auri-El's light. A cast of Ice-Minders, or Carvers, who learned ancient techniques to magically create and carve ice into homes, walls, towers, and art. This is my headcannon for why Falmeri ruins are so rare. Yes, the Atmorans destoryed many of their structures, but some were made of Magical Ice and Snow, whose enchantments must've required maintenance. Once the Falmer were gone, the magic slowly faded, and their beautiful cities of Ice wouldve melted. I'd imagine its more than possible that a glacier or icey tundra in skyrim was once an Ancient Merric City.

[isamajor]

Whumptober 2024 : day 11 to 15

No. 11: SEEING DOUBLE (loneliness)

Nebarra staggered through the scorching sands of Hammerfell, the sun beating down on his armor he has wrapped in cloth in the hope of protecting himself from the heat. He was alone, hiding from the Thalmor’s gaze, a deserter in the desert. The air shimmered with heat.

In the distance, he saw her. Twice. There were two Camias, standing amidst the sand. Nebarra's heart leaped, but as he stumbled closer, everything vanished. Nothing but a mirage.

Nebarra’s chest tightened, his throat dry. Camia was gone. Dead. And all that remained was the ache of her absence and the heat of the desert. (105)

•

No. 12: STARVATION (underground caverns / cannibalism)

The group had ventured into deep, labyrinthine caverns, their torches casting a dim light on the endless stone. Days of wandering had depleted their food supplies. Despair and hunger set in as they eyed the glowing mushrooms on the walls, admittedly an alchemy ingredient, but dangerous in large quantities.

Auri glanced at the corpses of the Falmer they had just defeated. "Falmer are still meat, though it tastes like slimy chicken.", she suggested. Her kind had no problem with eating flesh.

But the others backed away. Cannibalism, even that of the Falmer, was too taboo for them, unlike the Bosmer. (100)

•

No. 13: TEAM AS A FAMILY (multiple whumpees)

The Dragonborn’s companions lay scattered around the ancient tomb, each nursing wounds from the battle. Lucien had a deep gash along his arm, hastily bandaged. Auri's legs were swollen and bruised. Inigo wheezed, ribs cracked evident in his labored breaths. Taliesin had his hands burned with Magicka, Gore was holding his head in pain, Kaidan’s face was bloodied from a draugr’s strike.

The Dragonborn knelt, voice heavy with guilt. "I'm sorry you’re all hurt... again. I dragged you into this."

Kaidan grunted. "Only death could part me from you. Don’t apologize. We’ll fight until the end, together." (105)

•

No. 14: LEFT FOR DEAD (blackmail)

Taliesin had run, heart pounding. It was all true in that letter : the details, the secrets... When he fled into the night, he didn’t expect to be caught. But they found him. They beat him until he could no longer fight back, leaving him bloodied and barely breathing on the moor. They stripped him, replacing his robes with a hunter’s outfit, masking the crime.

At dawn, his companions, worried about his sudden disappearance, went looking for him. They finally found it on the moor. Xelzaz knelt by his side, pressing trembling fingers to Taliesin’s neck. "He’s alive," he whispered in relief. (105)

•

No. 15: CHILDHOOD TRAUMA (painful hug / I did good, right?)

Taliesin stood trembling before his father, the man’s cold eyes filled with disappointment. “Too soft.”, his father spat. “You’ll never be a Thalmor like this.��� Young Taliesin swallowed the knot in his throat, forcing his emotions down. He understood, even then, he needed to become what they expected. He has to put a mask. He stiffened his back, raised his chin, and mimicked what he’d seen in other officers.

“Did I do well, Father?” he asked once, voice hollow.

For the first time, his father smiled and pulled him into a tight embrace. Pride glinted in his eyes. But Taliesin felt only a bitter emptiness. (104)

[mellowscrolls]

I’ll bite! Tell me about your Dragon Cult headcanons :0

Okay! Dear God, let me go find my notes spread over like ten different documents (exaggeration)!

Alright, so starting off, I'm going to throw in a disclaimer that this is lore built off of Metallic and Liches' works and headcanons all given a new coat of varnish as I scoot my plagiarism ray out of frame. I'm going to throw it under a read more for clarity and the sake of everyone.

TW for manipulation, cults, mutilation (non-graphic)

Starting with the ancient hierarchy, I have it go somewhere like: Alduin > High Ranking Dovah > Konahriik > High Rank Dov's Ruling Priest > Low Ranking Dovah > Their Ruling Priest > Wooden Masks > Acolytes (unmasked) > Divines Clergy > Everyone Else. Technically Akatosh/Bormahu was supposed to be/was advertised as the top of that chain, but that didn't work out so much in practice.

Within the cult itself were a few key customs. Let's start with the masked priests.

Dov have one masked priest each to handle the politics and mortal affairs of their Junaar (kingdom). These masks are made of precious metal or material and can be made custom to the specifications of the dov who requires them. There is one Masked Priest per dovah who earns one, and that internal hierarchy amongst the dragons means that your status and what you are in charge of may change very frequently depending on your dragon's social standing.

It is a great honor and a great burden to be chosen for the role of a Named Masked priest. Masked priests are given names by their dovah, usually approved by Alduin, in a naming ceremony that erases their mortal name from living and recorded memory. Only the dov bestowing the new name may remember the old, and to keep a copy of the name in physical form is considered a great insult.

In preparation for a naming ceremony, priests are usually imbued with "blessings" by being carved with (or even forced themselves to carve) Words of Power into their skin, which are then imbued with power and bound to the priest-to-be's soul by their dovah. These enchantments are binding to the soul in a way that can either slightly shift their personality to favor the nature of the word or can make them a completely different person, at their dovahthuri's discretion. These blessings are extremely hard to sunder and cannot be harmed by the person they are upon unless directly ordered by their dovah or Alduin. (Most of the carving part of the headcanon was pioneered by @metallic-scaled-scarf with Nonvul, go check them out)

Under the Masked priest within their own Junaar was usually a group of attendants ranging in number from about 3-5. They are the Wooden Priests, wearing wooden masks in the style of their Priest, symbolizing their un-named and un-blessed status. They were not allowed to speak, but were usually able to communicate telepathically as a sort of hivemind while still maintaining most of their original personality. Masked Priests were always chosen from their predecessor's pool of Wooden Priests, so there was a long-term competitive nature usually fostered within their little group. Any Clergy below the Masked and Wooden Priests went without a facial covering and could communicate freely. When converging in Bromjunaar for moots, the Masked Named priests would trade their masks for wooden ones to hear the words of Konahriik, as both a gesture symbolizing equality as well as silence before the words of the Mouthpiece of Alduin.

In global politics, mer were much more unlikely to ever make it to the rank of Masked Priest, with the Falmer treated as slaves and prisoners of conquest while the Ayleids and Chimer were treated as highly tenuous allies at best. Dragons did not usually care for their priests so much as use them as tools of communication and politick. A Masked Priest was very regularly simply a new game of chess to start with the other Dov as one would vie for another's power, land, or status.

As for individual Headcanons, or how I write my dragon priests, I will make another post in the near future.

[aldruiel-scribbles]

Since 70% of my LDBs tend to be a Snow Elf I was imagining the nords reaction to finding out that their dragonborn of legend is a snelf.

While we know that this concept (being Dragonborn) exists all throughout Tamriel, it has never had more presence or importance in a culture of a country like Skyrim. Perhaps another could be Cyrodiil, but even despite the dynasties/empires initiated by St.Alessia or Tiber Septim, imperials don't integrate Dragons into their cultures like the nords do. With their Dragon overloads of old, the dragon cult, dragon priests, true first dragonborn (it was believed it was Alessia until Miraak in TesSkyrim), then the dragon wars, dragon hunting, dragon mounts, even dovahzul (which the Atmorans seemed to be fluent given by the number of walls), their previous use of the Thu'um, Greybeards with The Way of the Voice, and last but not least the prophecy of the end times with Alduin's return.

It's a normal day like any other and then it happens, Alduin has returned. Dragons are attacking, and rumors spread about the dragonborn since the Greybeards summoning them. I mean everyone heard them and felt the earth shake at the power of their voice.

So here at this point, Nords start wishing for a second Talos to come by walking and save them, imagining this mega Chad Atmoran of legend vibing like Ysgramor, only to find out their savior is a motherfucking ELF. Can you imagine their faces? And one that looks like a pale as fuck Altmer. The majority of adults are veterans from the great war, their worship of Talos is forbidden, Thalmor are taking people, there's a civil war, and dragons are back. I can't think of the amount of profanities some Nords must've yelled. Specifically Stormcloaks. Both hilarious and concerning. And that's before they find out that the LDB is a Snow Elf, their ancient foes. Actual natives of Skyrim, while Atmorans had to do great feats of mental gymnastics to convince themselves that this was their land and they came back to claim it (which of course had nothing to do with the fact that they were fleeing from Atmora with its civil war and also it was freezing), basically gaslighting themselves into thinking it was their home and all elves were colonizers. So they still think that snelfs are invaders, and enemies.

I imagine their conflictive feelings towards their gods, and this milk drinker elf the gods chose to save the world. While also being in awe at the fact that they are witnessing an actual dragonborn killing dragons. It must've been so bizarre for them.

This kind of nuance was missing in the game, because we know, Bethesda knows, and everybody knows, that the Nords would've reacted (A LOT) to the race of the dragonborn, a being so integral for their culture. Especially if they were elves, even bosmer who are the least hated elves. They would've think it was a Thalmor plot or something like that at first.

With a few comments from people, and extra charisma needed to do things (that a human wouldn't have the need for) could've changed the story.

(P.S: And for Khajiits and Argonians is a whole topic altogether)

[my-tamriel-now]

Falmeroon: Legacy of the Snow Elves SE Port

Original LE Mod by MCR

Decided to release a port of one of my favorite little lore mods. Falmeroon adds the ruins of Snow Elf ruins around Skyrim in remote areas.

Changes from the original:

I separated the edits to Vyrthur's throne to its own addon, to avoid conflicts with other mods that edit it.

I also added an optional patch that replaces the vanilla Elven weapon models with the models from Ancient Falmer Ivory Glass Weapons

[trainwiz]

It's been a long time coming and a lot of waiting on my but the second half of Legendary Dungeons Part 2 (called Nordic Secrets) is now out for Skyrim.

Adding even more dungeons from Elder Scrolls Online into Skyrim, Direfrost Keep and Castle Thorn:

DIREFROST KEEP

A strange alliance of rogue atronachs has invaded the ancestral home of Clan Direfrost, seeking ancient powers. But the dead and buried of these once-mighty witchhunters aren't about to take that lying down. Face a group of strange draugr and wights as they attempt to take back their home from the Anarchic Atronachs and their mysterious backer…

Delve into the deepest crypts of Direfrost, and you might find that the Direfrosts might not have been the first to settle these mountains. If you smother a powerful flame, be prepared to brave ancient Falmer dangers in the FORNLORN SANCTUM.

Though the keep has long sank into the ice, an entryway can still be found within Tolvald's Cave.

CASTLE THORN

Long ago, the powerful vampire Lady Thorn was struck down by a group of unknown adventurers. Since then, her vast estates have sat empty. Her last living descendant claims that before her death, she struck a cursed bargain to return and wreak havoc. But nobody has seen him in months. Something sinister is lurking in this house, and it might just not be a vampire…

If you choose to explore this sprawling gothic fortress, you might just find yourself in a realm awfully familiar. But make no mistake, the SEA OF SPIRES is anything but friendly.

The entrance to Castle Thorn can be found within Darkfall Cave.

[dawns-beauty]

(falmer anon again) I hadn't even considered the prelates, that would be amazing to see, your npc overhauls are my absolute favorites!! there's a set of ancient falmer robes in the mod Carved Brink if that's at all helpful to you!

my initial ask I had the betrayed falmer in mind along with Gelebor and Vyrthur, I'd love to see your take on their culture instead of them all looking the same!

oh man, you read my mind on needing some new robes! I will check it out, thanks!

I'm afraid editing the betrayed Falmer is a little out of my current experience: basically, I can do NPCs because I can make them through RaceMenu like regular player characters. I'm a little shaky on editing creature meshes (see the Giant variations incident awhile back lol.) If you want my recommendation for mods that gives them a little more character and suggests their ingenuity, I recommend:

Plus the patch between the two from here:

I wish I could do justice for the Falmer, if I had my way I would make a whole new questline centering around negotiating with a Falmer village that made diplomatic contact with an Orc stronghold (because they're both kinds of pariah) and a group of scholars eager to learn the secrets of the new Falmeri civilization.

[lady-iizsil]

WIP Wednesday

No pressure tagging: @vanilleeistee @izzetheopossum @skyrim-forever @dirty-bosmer @lucien-lachance @pocket-vvardvark @illumiera

As I settle down for the night and prepare to read a lot tonight, I wanted to toss the most recent WIP I have out there. It's in pretty rough shape still because I wanted to blurt out the dialogue while I was still inspired for it, and now I'm going back and trying to fill in gaps.

It's another excerpt based on my Snow Elf oc Aremor, who was a veteran of the Battle of Moesring -- he survived to the 4E by way of a Dwemer cryochamber experiment and now sees the ancient battleground of Moesring Pass all these years later, and finds himself overwhelmed by his guilt and trauma.

Idk if the context is needed or not but I wanted to blurt it anyhow: Upon the Fall of the Snow Prince, he swiftly abandoned his loyalties to the remaining numbers of the Snow Elven armies and betrayed one of his own to steal their horse, both in a desperate attempt to survive and also with the intention of getting back to his family in Nchuand-Zel so he could take care of them.

The Falmer he tore off their horse was who sliced his face and gave him a nasty cheek scar: a permanent reminder of his guilt and a testament to what he'd do to get back to his family.

ANYWAY I'll post the scraps of this scene I have and let yall read XD

The impact of where Aremor was didn't really hit him while he was in the ash wastes. It was simply too alien through the filter Red Mountain cast on the land. Yet it certainly did not stop the developing malaise of the spirit as he continued onward through the dead woods and the brittle brush, where the layers of ash gave way to spiky grass growing in rocky crags and mountain snow. The acrid smell of Red Mountain's belching permeated the air with a foul taste, and that was the only thing that felt familiar, in a way. It was not as sour as the air had been in the first era.

Aremor remained silent as the group kept trekking up the gravelly slopes, only turning to check on the progress of those behind him. Guilt weighed on him for how far ahead he allowed himself to go, but as they continued to climb upwards, and the air felt more brisk, the more the memories saturated his thoughts. He thought he could do this when armed with his friends at his side, but the air of the ancient battleground was making his resolve shrink inward.

His eyes were wide and his jaw was set like stone. Aremor’s ears were normally very animated, swiveling as he listened and emoted, but they were tight against his head, almost like he was trying to block out whatever was happening around him.

The ground was familiar now. When he stopped to look around and take in his surroundings, the thoughts swarming in his head felt like a thick and impenetrable cloud.

Here he was. The ancient battleground: The Battle of Moesring.

He could remember it now as he turned backwards, looking down the craggy slopes into the ash below.

Red. Red like no other on Nirn. The red slush of the battlefield, where snow and gravel and blood soaked in the crags and the footpaths.

The flashing image in his mind made him flinch. His lips were curled in distress as he looked around, his feet now refusing to carry him onward. He didn’t want to think of it, but everywhere he looked, there were ghosts.

The steep mountainside had few plateaus for fair battle. The only advantage of the Snow Prince and his cavalry were that they had the high ground. But the pass proved to have its own dangers. Their horses could fall easily here. The cliff sides spoke for themselves. The mountain’s surface could crumble beneath them - the Nords and their thu’um would be a dangerous adversary here. As much as he faulted the Prince for placing their final stand at Moesring Pass, Aremor himself knew that there was no better choice. It was here, and now, or not at all.

Lost in thought, the Snow Elf instinctively reached for the scar that opened his cheek, teeth gritted in shame and distress. His body felt perfectly comfortable in this weather. He was built to survive worse than snow and cold wind. But sweat clammed his palms and the hair at his temples darkened with it too. Feeling that made the thoughts worse. He could almost feel it - the grime caking his face. His hair plastered in tendrils against his head, stinking of blood and muddy sludge. His ears rang and his hands were raw from his grip on his weapon.

The Falmer brought up his hands to look at them, flexing his fingers. His palms were sticky with sweat. He knew this. Yet the thought of blood caked on them was too real. Why could he almost see it?

Steel against steel. Steel against flesh. A thunderous shouting followed by a deafening boom. Grieving wails and fearful cries. He saw a soldier on a horse – sweet escape, and it was right there. Elven armor mattered not.

The earth swayed and his feet faltered as he took a backward step. His body felt paralyzed while his mind raced, images and voices flashing like bursting powder kegs.

“You bastard! You thieving bastard!” The Mer screamed as he swung his dagger, slicing through Aremor's cheek as they wrestled on the snow. Hot blood filled his own mouth and he spat it in the rival Elf's face.

“Just let me go!” Aremor pleaded. He didn’t want this either. But he needed their horse, and they were an obstacle.

He shook his head, grabbing his own arms as he crossed them. His mind shifted toward the snow beneath his feet.

“No! Please don't do this!”

His arms unfolded and he lowered himself to the ground. He laid back and felt the snow compress beneath the weight of his head.

What if I died here? He thought to himself. He could have stayed and fought beneath the banners of his people until the very end. His life blood could have seeped into the rocks of these mountains and rotted there until the humans came to burn his corpse. He could have been a temporary part of this mountain and the melted snow that fed the grass. All he was, and all he ever would be…

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps approaching. He sat up briefly to see Lorika standing above him, though from a respectful distance. While she managed to smile at him, he could see the worry stitched in her brows. She shifted her weight onto one leg as she asked, “mind if I join you here?”

Aremor swallowed, and numbly, he nodded. He looked away and reverted back to laying in the snow as she joined him. The heat emanating from his skin was melting the snow around himself and his clothes were growing damp, but he couldn’t bear to move from this spot. Being here was overwhelming. All he needed was to stop and take it in. Lorika’s presence was usually welcome at his side, but in this moment, it added pressure to the guilt swirling in his stomach.

He listened as she shuffled and laid beside him, and she crossed her hands neatly over her abdomen. A few moments of silence passed as they listened to the wind and simply took the moment to breathe. There was a desolate beauty to this place to be enjoyed, but he couldn’t see it past the lens of the atrocities that were committed here. The silence felt too deafening and the last thing he wanted were for the memories to swallow him again.

“I’m sorry if this is bothersome,” he croaks. “I needed to ground myself.”

“There’s no need to apologize,” the Nord woman responds, and the ascertained way with which she said it made Aremor feel a touch of comfort. “We were worried, but I decided it was best if we didn’t swarm you right now. I just wanted to ask what’s on your mind. I want to help, if I can.”

He gazed at her sidelong from where he laid, meeting her one eye with his own. She was the very picture of who he fought here all these years ago. That thought discomforted him, though not for the reason he thought it should.

He sighed heavily and turned his face away. “I was confronted with more than I thought I’d be, coming here,” he spoke. His tone was matter-of-fact, yet distant, still looking fixedly at the expanse of blue above them. “This mountain is the monument of my shame. I wonder sometimes if my people could have had a chance if I remained stalwart. I was the Hand of Syrabane, after all. Another symbol of hope.”

He heard Lorika sigh, though not in annoyance, it seemed. “Aremor. If you spend the rest of your days with questions like that, you’ll drive yourself insane," she said with a worrisome tone. "It's why I worried for you coming here. And I feel worse not knowing what to say to make this better."

Aremor shook his head subtly. "There aren't words for my situation. Not quite. But you needn't feel sorry for that." He pauses for a good while as he tries to sort his thoughts. "I feel disturbed with myself - and being here, well."

Lorika side-eyed him, and with a tone of cautious encouragement, she says, "feel free to speak your mind. I'm listening."

He went quiet again, swallowing the lump forming in his throat. The words and the feelings were there, but untangling them felt like an overwhelming matter. Finally, he began slowly, saying, “I try to be thankful — and a large part of me is. Not many are given a second chance at life, much less a better one. But when I turn inwardly, I see that… I am much the same, despite all I have been given, despite all I have learned. I did terrible things for the people I loved, and one would think after losing them, and knowing that all I did was for naught, I would learn to accept that. I thought perhaps something inside me would click, and I'd set myself straight. Violence for the sake of devotion earned me nothing but punishment. But when I look at the people I have now — us — I realize…”

He pauses, brows furrowing.

“I would do it all again.”