Lost to Logic

“i’m sorry, i have let you down. i thought i was ready to rp again, but i have instead spent $300 on a new graphics card and become a dinosaur. i hope my sincerest apologies can be enough to sustain you

-rawr <3

“Not everything, but a fair bit. But it is quality of the knowledge, not the quantity. That is what I have.”

He courteously took the map from her, letting it unroll so he could study it. “I have some business to attend to in Blackreach. I am not worried about the darkness of it–there are bioilluminescent fungi that grows throughout,” he mentioned as he studied the map.

Of course, the map was drawn to the standards of the current explorers’ knowledge, and lacked much of it. He gruffed heavily at the work-in-progress appearance of the map. Using what was there, however, he cross-referenced what he could hear with the visuals he had on the paper. He pulled a stick of charcoal out of his cloak and began to sketch probable ways down based upon his knowledge of how city-states were usually laid out, his lines straight and perfect with hundreds of years of practice.

Once he committed the sketches to memory, he looked to the young Dunmer. “We are here,” he said, making a dashed circle around a square on the map. ”Your way out is this way,” he said, creating a dashed line as a pathway to follow. “That is the door that you must leave through, however. Thank you for letting me reference your map,” he finished, handing her back her map.

She watched in confusion as he unfurled the map and retrieved a stick of charcoal; her heart nearly stopped as he put the charcoal to the paper and began to make marks on it. Her mouth hung open in horror for a time before she regained consciousness. “What are you doing?” she yelped, “I borrowed that from the College’s library. Urag’s going to kill me! He threatened to have another student torn apart by angry atronachs for a water stain in another book—imagine what he’s going to do to me!”

But the more he drew, the more it began to make somd sense— if only a bit. “ You sound like Dad’s side of the family,” she said with a huff, leaning over the map to watch him draw with a skeptical eye. Her mind began humming with questions. What sort of business could he have to attend to in Blackreach of all places? Her face twisted in a grimace as she continued to watch the map, her ears flicking back. “And what do you think you’re going to do about the charus bugs? And the Falmer? Those things are pretty tough if you aren’t quiet. And you don’t really seem like the type who goes sneaking around places.”

“I am quite the accomplished mage; I can care for myself,” he retorted, the slightest of wry smiles tugging at one corner of his mouth. “Remember I mentioned that I have not been to this particular ruin before. I am, however, quite learned in Dwemeri design; I am familiar with their general design schemes and simply made some educated guesses. And as I am so familiar with the archetypes, I do not need the map myself--that and I have a pretty good memory.”

Of all the places to become lost, she had to do it in a Dwarven ruin. Haleth peered down one hallway lined with steaming pipes to gaze down another. With a huff, she turned back to the center of the ruin, likely a room that had once been someone’s parlor or dining room. Her father’s grandfather, a Telvanni mage with a fascination for all manner of machines, had requested a list of items, all of which she’d had to guess their appearance. Her knapsack filled with things she could have never imagined, she had hoped to find her way out; but the ruin was dark, its labyrinthine halls rendering her map useless.

“Fine!” she cried, throwing her hands up and letting the leather bag fall from her shoulders with a thud, “I’ll try again in a minute.” She sat down on the hard, smooth stone, her arms crossed as she looked over the map once more.

He heard her resonance before he saw her, and it lifted his brow. He was in no mood to meet with a ruin raider, on his own as he was. He only hoped that her youthful sound meant that she was of the easily spooked sort, perhaps a researcher rather than a pillager. 

As the elder mer stepped into the room, he easily located her with his eyes, scaled upon the pipe. Hand near her weapon, he saw. He sighed.

Her eyes narrowed slightly, but she slid partway down the pipe, jumping the rest of the way. “Who are you?” she asked, tilting her head toward the elder mer. He certainly wasn’t from Skyrim, and he did not have the typical accent of the Summerset Isles. “Dwemer ruins are pretty dangerous. Are you here to study this— this stuff with other mages?”

aetheriusbound‌:

Steam hissed and filled the upper reaches of the room, but did little to hide her presence. Haleth remained silent, though, as the footsteps became louder, her ears flicking back as the person finally entered the room and called up to her. She hadn’t expected him to notice her so immediately; he didn’t look like much of a threat, an old mer with a cane, but there was never telling, especially if he were some sort of mage.

Her eyes narrowed slightly, but she slid partway down the pipe, jumping the rest of the way. “Who are you?” she asked, tilting her head toward the elder mer. He certainly wasn’t from Skyrim, and he did not have the typical accent of the Summerset Isles. “Dwemer ruins are pretty dangerous. Are you here to study this— this stuff with other mages?”

Her eyes never leaving the other elf, she made her way back to her knapsack and rolled up her map. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you at the College. Are you with the Synod? The College of Whispers? The Psijic Order?”

He couldnt help but give a chuckle. “The Psijics,” he failed to stop himself from letting the words leave his mouth. “No, no. I am here of my own purpose.”

He didnt move from where he had stopped, only watched her curiously--almost overbearingly so--with his odd green eyes. He peered at her map, trying to catch a glimpse of what it laid out. Perhaps... perhaps, if that map was even 30% accurate...

She dug in her traveling pack, attempting to find the best place for the map. She shook the bag to make room, the trinkets she’d picked up for Revus clattering with the sudden movement. “Me?” she asked in surprise, dropping the knapsack and its contents. They landed with a heavy thud on he hard stone, and she huffed a short sigh. “Well, I’m a student at the College of Winterhold, at least for now. My grandfather— well, great-great grandfather, is a Telvanni wizard, and he wanted some stuff to study, and I didn’t really want to work on illusion.” She shook her head quickly.

aetheriusbound‌:

The young elf’s ears flicked back in irritation. “I don’t see what’s so funny, especially not with the Psijics. They’re the best mages on Tamriel. One’s even visiting the College right now. Arch-Mage Aren is the one who talks to him mostly, though.”

She dug in her traveling pack, attempting to find the best place for the map. She shook the bag to make room, the trinkets she’d picked up for Revus clattering with the sudden movement. “Me?” she asked in surprise, dropping the knapsack and its contents. They landed with a heavy thud on he hard stone, and she huffed a short sigh. “Well, I’m a student at the College of Winterhold, at least for now. My grandfather— well, great-great grandfather, is a Telvanni wizard, and he wanted some stuff to study, and I didn’t really want to work on illusion.” She shook her head quickly.

“But you didn’t really answer my question,” she said, folding her arms over her chest, her ruby eyes meeting his green. “If you aren’t down here to study, then what are you doing here?”

“The Psijics think they know everything Nirn has to offer, and they dont. They are far from it. That is why I laugh.”

Ah, so she was a scrapper, just not for herself. Part of him wondered if the person who wanted the parts actually knew how to use them, or was only using them for decorations--with Telvanni, he couldnt know.

The younger elf shifted to sit in her heels, looking the elder up and down, studying him. Something seemed different, but what it was, she couldn’t be sure. “I’ve tried using the map, but it doesn’t make any sense! I’ve been running around this place for hours, and gotten nowhere!” She cried, throwing her hands up. “But if you want to try, you can.”

aetheriusbound‌:

Haleth bit down the urge to retort, instead rolling her eyes as she shifted to a crouched position to gather her belongings. “And I guess you do know about everything in the world?” she asked with a huff. “I wouldn’t envy them— how boring would it be if everyone knew everything? What would we need other people for if the world were like that?

The younger elf shifted to sit in her heels, looking the elder up and down, studying him. Something seemed different, but what it was, she couldn’t be sure. “I’ve tried using the map, but it doesn’t make any sense! I’ve been running around this place for hours, and gotten nowhere!” She cried, throwing her hands up. “But if you want to try, you can.”

Her ears shifted back at the mention of the underground city as she reached for the map. She’d heard tale of the place and its many foul denizens, but never had to set foot in it. “Blackreach?” she asked, turning her head. “Why would you want to go there? It’s… dark.” The Dunmer shuddered at the thought.

“Not everything, but a fair bit. But it is quality of the knowledge, not the quantity. That is what I have.”

He courteously took the map from her, letting it unroll so he could study it. “I have some business to attend to in Blackreach. I am not worried about the darkness of it--there are bioilluminescent fungi that grows throughout,” he mentioned as he studied the map.

Of course, the map was drawn to the standards of the current explorers’ knowledge, and lacked much of it. He gruffed heavily at the work-in-progress appearance of the map. Using what was there, however, he cross-referenced what he could hear with the visuals he had on the paper. He pulled a stick of charcoal out of his cloak and began to sketch probable ways down based upon his knowledge of how city-states were usually laid out, his lines straight and perfect with hundreds of years of practice.

Of all the places to become lost, she had to do it in a Dwarven ruin. Haleth peered down one hallway lined with steaming pipes to gaze down another. With a huff, she turned back to the center of the ruin, likely a room that had once been someone’s parlor or dining room. Her father’s grandfather, a Telvanni mage with a fascination for all manner of machines, had requested a list of items, all of which she’d had to guess their appearance. Her knapsack filled with things she could have never imagined, she had hoped to find her way out; but the ruin was dark, its labyrinthine halls rendering her map useless.

“Fine!” she cried, throwing her hands up and letting the leather bag fall from her shoulders with a thud, “I’ll try again in a minute.” She sat down on the hard, smooth stone, her arms crossed as she looked over the map once more.

He heard her resonance before he saw her, and it lifted his brow. He was in no mood to meet with a ruin raider, on his own as he was. He only hoped that her youthful sound meant that she was of the easily spooked sort, perhaps a researcher rather than a pillager. 

As the elder mer stepped into the room, he easily located her with his eyes, scaled upon the pipe. Hand near her weapon, he saw. He sighed.

Her eyes narrowed slightly, but she slid partway down the pipe, jumping the rest of the way. “Who are you?” she asked, tilting her head toward the elder mer. He certainly wasn’t from Skyrim, and he did not have the typical accent of the Summerset Isles. “Dwemer ruins are pretty dangerous. Are you here to study this— this stuff with other mages?”

aetheriusbound‌:

Steam hissed and filled the upper reaches of the room, but did little to hide her presence. Haleth remained silent, though, as the footsteps became louder, her ears flicking back as the person finally entered the room and called up to her. She hadn’t expected him to notice her so immediately; he didn’t look like much of a threat, an old mer with a cane, but there was never telling, especially if he were some sort of mage.

Her eyes narrowed slightly, but she slid partway down the pipe, jumping the rest of the way. “Who are you?” she asked, tilting her head toward the elder mer. He certainly wasn’t from Skyrim, and he did not have the typical accent of the Summerset Isles. “Dwemer ruins are pretty dangerous. Are you here to study this— this stuff with other mages?”

Her eyes never leaving the other elf, she made her way back to her knapsack and rolled up her map. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you at the College. Are you with the Synod? The College of Whispers? The Psijic Order?”

He couldnt help but give a chuckle. “The Psijics,” he failed to stop himself from letting the words leave his mouth. “No, no. I am here of my own purpose.”

He didnt move from where he had stopped, only watched her curiously--almost overbearingly so--with his odd green eyes. He peered at her map, trying to catch a glimpse of what it laid out. Perhaps... perhaps, if that map was even 30% accurate...

She dug in her traveling pack, attempting to find the best place for the map. She shook the bag to make room, the trinkets she’d picked up for Revus clattering with the sudden movement. “Me?” she asked in surprise, dropping the knapsack and its contents. They landed with a heavy thud on he hard stone, and she huffed a short sigh. “Well, I’m a student at the College of Winterhold, at least for now. My grandfather— well, great-great grandfather, is a Telvanni wizard, and he wanted some stuff to study, and I didn’t really want to work on illusion.” She shook her head quickly.

aetheriusbound‌:

The young elf’s ears flicked back in irritation. “I don’t see what’s so funny, especially not with the Psijics. They’re the best mages on Tamriel. One’s even visiting the College right now. Arch-Mage Aren is the one who talks to him mostly, though.”

She dug in her traveling pack, attempting to find the best place for the map. She shook the bag to make room, the trinkets she’d picked up for Revus clattering with the sudden movement. “Me?” she asked in surprise, dropping the knapsack and its contents. They landed with a heavy thud on he hard stone, and she huffed a short sigh. “Well, I’m a student at the College of Winterhold, at least for now. My grandfather— well, great-great grandfather, is a Telvanni wizard, and he wanted some stuff to study, and I didn’t really want to work on illusion.” She shook her head quickly.

“But you didn’t really answer my question,” she said, folding her arms over her chest, her ruby eyes meeting his green. “If you aren’t down here to study, then what are you doing here?”

“The Psijics think they know everything Nirn has to offer, and they dont. They are far from it. That is why I laugh.”

Ah, so she was a scrapper, just not for herself. Part of him wondered if the person who wanted the parts actually knew how to use them, or was only using them for decorations--with Telvanni, he couldnt know.

Of all the places to become lost, she had to do it in a Dwarven ruin. Haleth peered down one hallway lined with steaming pipes to gaze down another. With a huff, she turned back to the center of the ruin, likely a room that had once been someone’s parlor or dining room. Her father’s grandfather, a Telvanni mage with a fascination for all manner of machines, had requested a list of items, all of which she’d had to guess their appearance. Her knapsack filled with things she could have never imagined, she had hoped to find her way out; but the ruin was dark, its labyrinthine halls rendering her map useless.

“Fine!” she cried, throwing her hands up and letting the leather bag fall from her shoulders with a thud, “I’ll try again in a minute.” She sat down on the hard, smooth stone, her arms crossed as she looked over the map once more.

He heard her resonance before he saw her, and it lifted his brow. He was in no mood to meet with a ruin raider, on his own as he was. He only hoped that her youthful sound meant that she was of the easily spooked sort, perhaps a researcher rather than a pillager. 

As the elder mer stepped into the room, he easily located her with his eyes, scaled upon the pipe. Hand near her weapon, he saw. He sighed.

Her eyes narrowed slightly, but she slid partway down the pipe, jumping the rest of the way. “Who are you?” she asked, tilting her head toward the elder mer. He certainly wasn’t from Skyrim, and he did not have the typical accent of the Summerset Isles. “Dwemer ruins are pretty dangerous. Are you here to study this— this stuff with other mages?”

aetheriusbound‌:

Steam hissed and filled the upper reaches of the room, but did little to hide her presence. Haleth remained silent, though, as the footsteps became louder, her ears flicking back as the person finally entered the room and called up to her. She hadn’t expected him to notice her so immediately; he didn’t look like much of a threat, an old mer with a cane, but there was never telling, especially if he were some sort of mage.

Her eyes narrowed slightly, but she slid partway down the pipe, jumping the rest of the way. “Who are you?” she asked, tilting her head toward the elder mer. He certainly wasn’t from Skyrim, and he did not have the typical accent of the Summerset Isles. “Dwemer ruins are pretty dangerous. Are you here to study this— this stuff with other mages?”

Her eyes never leaving the other elf, she made her way back to her knapsack and rolled up her map. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you at the College. Are you with the Synod? The College of Whispers? The Psijic Order?”

He couldnt help but give a chuckle. “The Psijics,” he failed to stop himself from letting the words leave his mouth. “No, no. I am here of my own purpose.”

He didnt move from where he had stopped, only watched her curiously--almost overbearingly so--with his odd green eyes. He peered at her map, trying to catch a glimpse of what it laid out. Perhaps... perhaps, if that map was even 30% accurate...

Of all the places to become lost, she had to do it in a Dwarven ruin. Haleth peered down one hallway lined with steaming pipes to gaze down another. With a huff, she turned back to the center of the ruin, likely a room that had once been someone’s parlor or dining room. Her father’s grandfather, a Telvanni mage with a fascination for all manner of machines, had requested a list of items, all of which she’d had to guess their appearance. Her knapsack filled with things she could have never imagined, she had hoped to find her way out; but the ruin was dark, its labyrinthine halls rendering her map useless.

“Fine!” she cried, throwing her hands up and letting the leather bag fall from her shoulders with a thud, “I’ll try again in a minute.” She sat down on the hard, smooth stone, her arms crossed as she looked over the map once more.

He heard her resonance before he saw her, and it lifted his brow. He was in no mood to meet with a ruin raider, on his own as he was. He only hoped that her youthful sound meant that she was of the easily spooked sort, perhaps a researcher rather than a pillager. 

As the elder mer stepped into the room, he easily located her with his eyes, scaled upon the pipe. Hand near her weapon, he saw. He sighed.

and i reckon a lot of “high fashion”, the shit you wear for a public debate where you’re about to absolutely wreck your academic rival’s reputation for the next 10 years with your thesis, is this delicate balance of being as extravagant as possible without being impractical. like there’s the expectation you should be able to work in your clothes, you should be able to go back to a workshop and craft a dagger, or a hammer, or inexplicably powerful devices that can reshape the fabric of nirn (or why not all three in one), without any issue. functionality is prized as well as a certain pride in appearance - there’s no gods, only gods-to-be, and you come from the culture that will craft godhood itself, or at least, that’s what you believe.

so fabrics that are too delicate, or easily tear aren’t used - lace is absolutely never worn, nor are finely woven shawls, or any extravagant aldmeri fashions involving butterfly wings and petals or anything that would break if you bend over. not because it’s decadent - decadence is absolutely fine - but because it’s useless. anything tightly fitted is out for a similar reason, as is anything that trails on the floor. instead you’ll see  a few layers of robes and sashes and skirts - lots of durable silks, probably farmed from spiders that dwell nearby. silk layers would be sensible given that it can get quite hot when you’re working underground. colours are often dark - because they don’t stain - but rich colours which are extracted from fungi, dark blues, purples, wine reds, are common. white almost never used (or possibly - only used in the early stages of mourning, because one is never expected to work then). embroidery and complex, busy patterns are a-ok. a lot of labour has been mechanised in the late stages of dwemer society so the time exists for that kind of extravagant detail - as said before, decadence is absolutely fine. precious metals and gemstones are similarly incorporated into designs. lots of chunky gold jewellery - nothing that with snag, or snap, mind, delicacy is not the image you’re trying to cultivate. the dwemer “brass” (i imagine it’s an alloy of some kind since it’s not something you can mine, only melt down) is likely often used. it’s quite possible people like to show off their workmanship through fashion - if you’re an astronomer, for example, you might use the same gems as used for focusing lenses threaded into your hair, or beard, or studded into your robes. anything too on-the-nose is frowned upon for not being intellectually challenging enough though (because it’s the dwemer and they’re insufferable). 

obviously too many layers with lots of brass can be so heavy as to be impractical - again, it’s a balancing act. perhaps people experiment with striking cuts of material and shapes instead to stand out. stark colours contrasted with something more ostentatious. perhaps people try to limit themselves to one heavy layer that catches the eye, and lighter ones to complement. perhaps people like to add symbolism into their designs - but subtly, preferably. regardless of what’s on top the dwemer will always wear heavy duty, can-endure-anything boots. no one wants crushed toes when a sphere goes awry.

Gladroon Spellhammer did not look like a very intimidating mer.

Dressed in the adept blues of the school of conjuration, the Altmer carried no visible weapons, and seemed only to be armed with a large leather-bound tome. One might not be wrong to assume he’d never seen a real fight in his life.

But there were few other people in the library at this time of day, and fear of the reigning librarian’s wrath meant that no voices were raised in casual chatter above a soft whisper. When Gladroon finally closed his book, the gentle ‘thump’ seemed alarmingly loud.

[He grins.]

THAT’S A LONG AND FUNNY STORY ACTUALLY!

Ultimately it boils down to this thing that our mun, Das, discovered actually has a name! When she gets real attached to a character, can way more than just envision something we can do or say, that muse becomes a thing called a “Thoughtform”. We become free thinking peoples in her own head, can react to things a lot like you Greymages asking us questions, can interact with her without her focusing on what exactly we’d do, and so on! Really cool if you ask me. And not just because we’re alive because of it! [He laughs.] There’s a lot more to it and I could go on, but that’s not what you asked me about. It does preface my answer real nice, tho!

‘Couple of years ago, back when we were all really new, everyone thought I was annoying. This isnt new, I’m really used to it. But as we existed in this space with Das balancing our muses between our blogs, we got to interacting with each other on our off time, and in her free time. During a big learning arc of mine, where I… well, started to learn how to handle my hyperactivity and properly conduct myself and communicate, Sin was a huge help. He’s beyond patient, even if he gets annoyed quickly. He has great verbal communication that, between him, Das, and another of the Thoughtforms we share the headworld with, they were able to put things in a way I could understand. Over time… Sin and I became friends. Turns out he values loyalty a lot. When he realized that behind my bad behavior was someone who wasnt going to turn his back on someone who’s helped him, Sin let himself open up. In fact, he’s a lot more open and personable in our headworld, but that’s a lot to do with the fact he’s learned to come out of his shell and deal with everyone he’s around constantly. But I think he actually appreciates my out-going-ness and forwardness. He isnt, but knows that I can say things for him without being disrespectful–because we’re friends. I wouldnt want to be.