tescheer

[tescheer]

Heart Warmed

Thiefguard fluff for the @tescheer prompt: treat.

I just wanted to write some quick fluff and play with prose, but it turned out a tad longer and more emotional than I planned because of course it did.

Happy New Year everyone! And a big thank you to everyone who's read my fics this year, your support has meant so much. 🫶

@druidx @babyblueetbaemonster @inkysqueed

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            Cheydinhal marketplace swirled with activity from people and snow.

            Lecrinn stood at the edge of a small crowd, listening to Morrowind flutes, and shivering at the cold that left a pink tint on her face. At movement beside her, her head whipped to see Garrus. “Where’d you sneak off to?” Her face wrinkled in confusion. “How’d you sneak off?”

            With a smile, he offered a tankard.

            “What’s this?”

            “A hot cacao drink from Elsweyr, I was told you’d like it.”

            Taking it, she looked down the tankard, steam wafting up to warm her nose and fill it with a sweet rich scent. Sipping it, she was filled with chocolate flavored warmth. “Mmm,” she closed her eyes with a big smile, “they were right.”

            He beamed.

            Opening her eyes, her smile fell a little. “Where’s yours?”

            “Oh, uh,” he looked like that thought hadn’t crossed his mind.

            She huffed and walked off. Finding the cart, she placed some coins on it. “Another one please, it’s very good.”

            “Thank you, miss,” there was a smile in the khajiit’s voice. He ladled the liquid from a pot over a fire and into a tankard. Handing it to her, she handed it to Garrus.

            He took a careful sip before looking surprised, it quickly turning into a smile.

            She smiled back before taking another gulp of hers. Seeing something behind him, her eyes widened. “Ooh!” she ran off, he chasing after. She ran up to a breton selling croissants. “These will go great with it.”

            Soon they sat on a bench with their treats.

            “Are these enchanted?” Lecrinn stared down her tankard. “How is it still warm?”

            “Maybe it has fire salts in it?”

            “In that case I might’ve found something worth braving atronachs for,” she laughed before suddenly looking nervous. “I mean, not that-” Looking up at him, she stopped.

            His eyes looked soft and understanding, telling her that she didn’t have to pretend.

            She let the smile she was trying to force just fall as she looked down. “Not that… I even fight them, I just run past.”

            “I think being able to outrun a daedra while it throws fire at you is amazing.”

            She gave an unhappy smile. “Thanks, so’s your ability to always find something nice to say about me.”

            His face fell, looking hurt. “That isn’t hard, honestly it isn’t. You manage to run through the plains of Oblivion, never stopping till you’ve won, is that not amazing?”

            Her eyes turned up to him, his pleading with her to believe him. She looked back down with a shy smile. “I guess so…”

            He smiled sadly.

            “Thanks, I guess I spend so much time scared that I forget.” Looking at him, her face pulled into a slight smirk. “You know… you’re pretty amazing yourself.”

            Blushing, he looked away unsure. “Well, thank you.”

            “Hey!” She scooted closer to elbow his arm. “I mean that just as much as you meant yours.” Her voice softened, “I might be saving the world but its people like you who keep it from falling apart.”

            His face fell into a surprised realization. Facing forward, his eyes turned to her with a small, touched smile.

            “And as hard as you work, you’re especially doing a good job. I mean,” she looked down with a shy smirk, “not just anyone could change my mind about guards,” looking back up the smirk overtook the shy, “I can be pretty stubborn.”

            He turned more to her with a laughing smile. “I’ve noticed.”

            She giggled a little back, his smile widening. Starting to blush, she looked away, taking a bite of her croissant and frowning as she chewed the cold bread.

            A breeze went by, she shivering, snow swirling, and the steam from her mug trailing after the wind.

            Seeing the steam, Lecrinn dipped her bread into the drink, the chocolatey and buttery flavors combining in a warm bite. “You’ve got to try it this way!” She turned back to Garrus with an excited smile, he already returning it. “They’re even better together.”

            He tried it, smiling wide, his eyes seemed to sparkle at her. “You’re right!”

            She decided not to look away this time, rosy cheeks raising as her eyes twinkled back.

            The snow picked up, but they stayed warmed by their drinks and hearts warmed by each other.

#week four #week four: treat #oc: lecrinn #garrus darreliun #writing #tescheer #tescheer2023

[tescheer]

@tescheer Week 4: Blizzard

Snow Elf headcanon time! (ft. A younger Gelebor and Vyrthur)

We don’t know a lot about the Snow Elf religious practices, but the sun-inspired motifs and imagery in a place that probably gets nasty winter weather and little to no sunlight for several months of the year intrigues me. I like to think the folks at the Chantry of Auri-El think of winter as a more contemplative time and a time to test and strengthen one’s faith.

#week four #week four: blizzard #artwork #gelebor #vyrthur #tescheer #tescheer2023

[tescheer]

@tescheer Week 3: Snuggle

I like to think of them as a little found family at some point. A weird dysfunctional one, destined to fall apart, but one nonetheless.

#week three #week three: snuggle #artwork #almalexia #sotha sil #vivec #nerevar #tescheer #tescheer2023

[tescheer]

TESCheer Week Three - A Gift and a Snuggle

Prompts provide me with such a good opportunity to write about my OC's! Thanks to @tescheer for giving me that opportunity!

Caylene looked out over the great basin below, pulling her cloak tighter around her armored frame. The nights in Hammerfell were deathly cold, particularly as it neared Saturalia - even without snow, frostbite had claimed extremities of some of the less well traveled men who hadn’t expected it.

Footfalls trampled up the wooden steps to the ramparts, and the Breton felt Senti’s soft palm resting on her arm through the cloak. “Homesick?” The Redguard asked in a low tone, leaning in for warmth.

“In a way. I think I miss the snow. Da could trudge through it up to his waist as if he were walking on an Imperial road. He went out late to find strong wood, and stayed up all night to carve me figurines.” Caylene rummaged in her side pack for a moment before producing a small, wooden knight on horseback. He had painted it in the heraldry of Daggerfall. “He used to tell me, ‘I can only hope you learn the craft; Clan Luzgarz made half of its wealth from sculpting’ and I would only nod. He told that story so many times I could repeat it in my sleep.”

Senti’s lips curled at the corners. “Dear, you already have. You mumble for hours.” 

Caylene cleared her throat, slipping the item back into her bag. “Yes, well. There’s much on my mind.”

The Redguard’s practiced hands slipped beneath Caylene’s cloak, pulling the knight’s hand back out into the open, and pressed another figurine into her palm. It sparkled in the moonlight like the surface of the Iliac, cut from quartz and showing a mage in the traditional wear of a Forebear. “I thought you would want something to remember me by, should something happen, or we part ways once the war is over. Alteration magic has a number of novel applications I’ve picked up under apprenticeship in Sentinel.” The mage pressed her lips to Caylene’s cold cheek, and after a moment, the knight was alone again. She looked over the great basin below and smiled at the glittering sand.

#tescheer #tescheer2023 #week three #week three: gift #week three: snuggle #writing #oc: senti #oc: caylene

[tescheer]

I literally wrote this in like an hour as a second submission for week two of @tescheer! So enjoy a lil Vilkas/Tahir sweetness for party and kiss!

Slight warning for lewd conversation and flirting lmao oh and math. There's some math in here. Poorly done math, but still math.

tagging some buds because I can @boethiahspillowbook @friend-of-giants @wildhexe @reachfolk

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It wasn't often that Vilkas and Tahir got to enjoy a night out together. Usually, when not out on a long distance job, they spent their evenings relaxing around Jorrvaskr, sifting through missives and requests for aid, doing chores to help Tilma, or turning in early after a long day of sparring or performing their local duties as Companions (which, the two of them regularly managed to squeeze in both in a single day, leaving them too exhausted to do much more than bathe and fall into their shared bed in the living quarters). So, when Aela slyly informed Vilkas that Hulda was hosting a bottle-opening celebration for her widely-favored snowberry and nutmeg mead that she reserved for the winter solstice, he immediately planned on attending with his husband.

Of course, it was impossible to surprise Tahir with these things, because the moment he heard about it, he sought out Vilkas and insisted they go. So regardless of Vilkas deciding to attend before this, he would have found himself standing before the very full inn with Tahir on his arm no matter what.

"I still feel bad," Tahir sighed in Vilkas' ear. "It feels odd to be attending something like this without Farkas and Firien. Especially on her name day."

"Trust me," Vilkas replied as they stepped in the gradually lengthening line to enter the Mare. "If they're not here, it's because they don't want to be. Plus, her name day is still a week off. Hulda just decided to 'open the bottle' early."

Tahir frowned. "What day is it?"

"Of the month? Or the week?" He grinned at Tahir's glare. "It's the fifteenth, my love."

A loud cheer rose up from within the Bannered Mare, and the opening notes of a jaunty tune floated out to meet them. It was damned cold, and Vilkas was eager to join the other attendees. Hulda was to start serving the mead soon.

"So six days, not seven," said Tahir with a roll of his eyes. "I thought you were supposed to be the smart one, but you don't even know basic arithmetic."

"Technically five, if you count the fact that it's night," Vilkas said.

"Four, if you count the fact that her name day technically starts at night."

"Would that not make it her name night, then?"

"Ugh, is this how you two flirt?" Njada's grumpy voice said from behind them. "By talking about studies?"

"To be fair, I don't even know if what we're saying is at all accurate," Tahir said as he looked over his shoulder and grinned at her. "But yes, actually. I find his intelligence to be quite alluring."

"Eugh, don't say it like that," said Athis. "It sounds far too sexual for the context."

"But it is," replied Tahir with a frown, but there was a gleam in his eyes that made Vilkas certain that whatever was about to come from his mouth would be incredibly embarrassing. "Sometimes I like to make him talk about subjects of a scholarly nature while I suck his—"

Vilkas hastily clapped a hand over Tahir's mouth, cutting him off, but the damage was done. Njada and Athis were guffawing loudly. His cheeks and ears warmed. "Keep that up and next time I'll be sure to stay silent."

"Oh, but I can still suck your cock? Seems unfair."

"To you," Vilkas responded, smirking. "To me it sounds just fine."

They reached the front of the line, where Ulfberth War-bear was standing beside the door with his arms crossed over his broad chest in a rather intimidating manner. But Vilkas was unfazed by the threatening appearance of his long-time friend.

"I hope Hulda is paying you well to stand out here like this," he said.

"Of course." Ulfberth cracked a toothy smile, just barely visible beneath his thick, black beard. "It was voluntary, in case folks like Mikael get out of hand, but Hulda promised me a crate of her mead. Tried to tell her off, but she insisted."

"Where's Adrianne?" Tahir asked.

"Oh, around," said Ulfberth. "Last I saw, she was with Farkas over by the bar."

"Farkas?" Vilkas frowned. "I thought he and Firien were... elsewhere."

"If by elsewhere, you mean in here, yeah," he said as he jerked his thumb over his shoulder. "They've been here for a while, helping Hulda prepare. The Huntsman brothers, too. They shut down for the evening for this."

"Wow, way to make us look like the backside of a mammoth," Njada said. "Anyone else we need to glare at with annoyance?"

Ulfberth laughed loudly. "Other than Saadia, Ysolda, and Olfina? No, I don't think so. Don't you be causin' no trouble, either, Stonearm, or it'll be me you deal with." Njada's eyes brightened at the challenge, but he was shaking his head. "Don't give me that look. Now get in there, the lot of you. You're holding up the line."

Not needing to be told twice, the four of them hurried inside, though there was little space for them to occupy. Usually, the Bannered Mare was only this crowded for the pinnacle of the New Life Festival, but that was still more than a week away. Vilkas hoped Hulda had enough mead to keep everyone happy, but he had never known her to run out of anything, much less her seasonal blends. 

It was loud, but cheerful, with music and voices melding together in the air and creating a welcoming atmosphere. The smell of food hung heavily in a thick fog over them, tantalizing and inviting. Despite how crowded it was, everyone seemed to be in good spirits, and Hulda manned the bar with Elrindir, both of them rosy-cheeked and smiling as they served a gleeful group of Nords. Behind Hulda, Saadia and Ysolda were running about, gathering food and plates, which they handed off to Olfina, who was hurrying them out to waiting patrons. Anoriath was fluttering from table to table, taking orders and reporting them back to Adrianne, who called them back to Saadia and Ysolda.

It was an interesting system, but no one seemed upset or overwhelmed despite the size of the inn's attendance.

Tahir nudged Vilkas suddenly and nodded in the direction he was looking, which was upward. Vilkas followed his gaze to see Firien sitting on one of the rafters, her back resting against one of the beams that supported the Mare's roof. Farkas sat with her, both legs dangling over the crowd and his hands on the rafter as he met Vilkas' eyes and grinned. 

"Ugh, she always has to make a show of it, doesn't she?" Njada said. "We get it, she likes to be tall or whatever."

"You sound envious," said Athis mockingly. "I thought with those stone arms of yours, climbing wouldn't be that difficult, but I suppose you're too dense to make it off the gr— ow!"

He was interrupted by Njada punching him in the upper arm. He swore loudly and made to retaliate, but Vilkas stopped him.

"Behave," he said warningly. Athis nodded, his cheeks flushed deep purple, while Njada let out a triumphant, "Ha-ha!" and stuck her tongue out at him. "You too. Are you children or grown warriors?"

"I can be childish every so often," replied Njada indignantly. "Anyway, I'm going to the bar. If I get roped into helping, Vilkas, it's on you."

Without another word, she disappeared into the crowd. Athis gave them a sheepish grin before following, slipping between people with unusual ease.

"He's sweet on her, I swear," said Tahir, lifting two goblets from the tray Anoriath held as he walked by. He handed one to Vilkas, ignoring the disapproving look Vilkas gave him. "There's no other way to explain how he follows her around like a lost pup."

"Poor Torvar," he responded as Tahir took his hand and guided him through the throngs of people. "He's the only one who hasn't found love among the Companions. Sometimes I swear we're more like a matchmaking service than a guild of warriors."

"I mean, you group a bunch of people roughly the same age together and this sort of thing is bound to happen." Tahir jerked his chin toward Farkas and Firien again as they passed beneath their rafter. "It's animal magnetism or whatever. Besides, Athis being sweet on Njada doesn't mean she reciprocates that."

"I don't like how much thought you've put into that," said Vilkas. Tahir made a noise of exclamation as they found a miraculously empty table and he practically leapt into one of the chairs. Vilkas followed suit and sat across from him. "But you're saying Torvar has a chance, then? Be it Njada or Athis?"

He was jesting, of course, and he hoped Tahir knew that. Kodlak was never strictly against relationships forming within the Companions, but he certainly never encouraged it. It was a matter Vilkas himself felt conflicted on as Harbinger. He felt like a hypocrite.

"Or a bottle," said Tahir, laughing. "I'm sure he'd pick that over anyone else."

"So be it." Vilkas shook his head. "Makes my job easier, at least. Gods know the Companions don't need anymore drama."

"Oh, having some regrets, are you?" Tahir folded his arms on the table and leaned toward him, a challenge in his eyes.

"Never," said Vilkas. "I'm offended you would even suggest it."

Tahir leaned the rest of the way across the table and captured his lips in a kiss, his hand finding its way to cup Vilkas' face. Vilkas responded in kind and pressed closer to Tahir, but before he could really get into it, something collided with the side of his head before landing on the table with a clatter. It was small, and wasn't enough to hurt, but enough to have him pull away from Tahir and look around wildly, offended anyone would dare interrupt him.

His eyes landed on Firien, who held a handful of something in her left hand with her right poised over her shoulder, reading to throw another of the mystery objects she held. He looked down at the table, and saw it was a walnut that had been coated in sugar and baked. She threw a candied nut at his head.

Beside her, Farkas was giggling uncontrollably, his cheeks red and his eyes shining with amusement and Vilkas realized it had been his idea. He glared at his brother, which only caused Farkas to laugh harder. Even Firien looked like she was suppressing a smile.

"Have you ever considered killing the both of them?" Tahir wondered aloud, his voice sounding a bit dreamy. "I know it would be bad, but sometimes..."

"No, Tahir, I don't," replied Vilkas as another walnut hit him in the shoulder. "But tonight, I think I'll make an exception."

As he spoke, Farkas nearly lost his balance, lurching wildly and Firien shot out a hand to steady him. It was then that Vilkas noticed the silver goblets between them, the silver of their metal shining merrily in the torchlight. He wondered why they decided the rafters were a good place to drink.

"Or we can wait til the alcohol does it for us," said Tahir idly as he took a sip from his own goblet. "Besides, I don't want to get arrested before we try Hulda's mead."

"Good point," Vilkas agreed. He took a sip of his own drink then set it down on the table. "In the meantime, we should do our most to annoy Firien."

"Why, I think that's a fine idea, dear husband." Tahir smiled at him slyly before standing. Vilkas had no chance to ask him what he was doing before Tahir was in his lap, sliding his hands around Vilkas' shoulders. Tahir kissed him eagerly, his hair falling around Vilkas in a dark curtain as Vilkas responded enthusiastically to his husband's kiss, ignoring the shower of candied walnuts that immediately began pelting them.

#week two #week two: kiss #week two: party #writing #oc: tahir #oc: firien #vilkas #farkas #njada stonearm #athis #tescheer #tescheer2023

[tescheer]

For @tescheer's Week Two - Prompt: 'Gray'. 🩶

(Special thank you to the lovely @wildhexe who tagged me in her latest TESCHEER submission (inquiring minds go check it out!) and the fantastic @friend-of-giants who convinced me to add a certain specific scene back in. 😉)

Post-Alduin AU-era, Vespera and Azaren get stuck in Windhelm for a night.

CW: Cursing, banter, sass, and implied nudity.

Windhelm is, best put, gray. Gray and prison-like, with walls made of old stone and people that perfectly match the city’s gritty, steely likeness. The Gray Quarter is more or less the same, if not a bit more… literal. Puddles plash, slick with frost and slippery to boot. The ground is a mix of grit, grime and more gray, equally as sodden and miserable as the sky. The chill to the air, biting as it is bristling, is ever a reminder of how scant proper heat is here. The Gray Quarter is a sty, though Azaren has seen worse.

“The state of this place,” Vespera huffs. She pulls at the edges of her furred cloak, shivering and wheezing as they walk.

“It’s terrible, yes. You needn’t remind me, and you hardly need a reminder yourself. But, given the weather and the local authorities? It’s better than nothing.”

It’s a sty, but it is something. Better than a refugee field camp or a dank cave, he thinks.

“Is it? Because this hellhole gets closer to nothing every time I visit.”

Azaren can’t blame Vespera for being prickly, Windhelm is hardly a gem. And in his humble opinion, even the Stone Quarter and Valunstrad are less than a polished turd.

“Don’t mistake me. I don’t mean to make light of our brood’s misery, especially when it’s clear how much suffering is going on here.”

“I know you don’t,” she says, “and I know where your head’s at—in comparison to the slums of Tear, how bad is the Gray Quarter?”

“Hm, good question.”

The Gray Quarter lives up to its namesake, though not in the way the Nords intended. The walls are falling apart brick by brick, smoke plumes high and dark. There’s a lingering odor of piss in some of the narrower alleyways, joined by the all-too-familiar stink of gone-off liquor. Every flag is red—faded orange and frayed to Oblivion and back.

“Well,” Azaren says, watching his breath as it warms the air. “This place—it’s certainly not much better.” It doesn’t hold a candle to the slums of Tear, but he’s not about to ruffle Vespera’s feathers, not when she’s already so on edge.

“You know, it does remind me of the sacked side of Mournhold—a little bit at least. It's a pity that even while living in and out of the rat holes there, the cheap spirits we nursed were better than the ones Skyrim boasts." Vespera wraps an arm around her middle and staves off a belch. "Can't say I'm a fan of beer and beer is certainly no fan of mine. Gods, I'm gassy like you wouldn't believe." "Too much information," Azaren rasps. "That being said, I could, and very likely would kill for a bottle of vintage brandy right about now." "It's always brandy with you, isn't it? Pah! Would serjo's expensive tastes be willing to budge for a pot of greef?" "Greef would suffice, yes. What about muthsera? Sujamma like always or is she wanting to test her self-proclaimed iron-gut with a pitcher of mazte?" There’s a smile there, half-hidden behind the ridge of Vespera’s cloak. She slides closer and says, "Flin." "Flin?" Azaren asks, "Are you bloody serious? And yet you have the audacity to complain about my expensive tastes." "You're the one who got me hooked on it! That bottle we shared when we first met in Rootspire—it was the best thing I'd ever tasted." She ribs him with her elbow. He laughs.

“How romantic.”

“Oh, shut it! Tell me, did you ever return that empty bottle like you said you were going to?”

Though he was blitzed that night, (as was Vespera) Azaren did, in fact, do just that.

“I put it on the banquet table near your ex-betrothed, hoping for the best while simultaneously expecting to be disappointed. So, sort of?"

Vespera throws her head back, laughs, and reaches out mid-guffaw to grab the lapels of Azaren’s cloak. Once, twice, thrice—she pulls, and he follows. Her armor adds to the muted thunk! her back makes when it connects with the nearest flat surface—another wall, just as gray as the rest.

Lightning-fast, gloved fingers slip between the loops of his belts. She tugs until their hips meet, and he's slanted over her, looming and smiling despite himself. If Vespera were taller, they’d be pressed chest to chest. Instead, Azaren is forced to bracket his arms above her head to stay balanced.

“Were you,” she croons, “disappointed?”

“With the party, the liquor or your dancing?”

“What?!" Vespera's eyes narrow; Azaren hears her jaw crack. "Excuse you! If I remember correctly, I gave you a run for your money with my nasty little jig!”

“You mean your two left feet gave me a run for my money? Bah! What foolishness. Need I remind you that in those days, I, key word: 'had' wealth beyond measure. Then I met you and learned the true meaning of 'go broke'."

Vespera's expression pinches. She's trying not to laugh, not to giggle, chortle, chuckle, snicker—

“Ha. Ha." She snorts like a hog and tries (and fails) to cover it up with a fake cough. "Pfft. Key words: you were an arsehole then, and you’re still an arsehole now. But here’s the thing—you’re my arsehole.”

“… Not the best phrasing, Ves.”

Azaren opens his mouth to further protest, but Vespera is quick to make a move. She lifts her left foot— for emphasis—and stomps. Azaren, however, sees the mischievous, albeit vengeful gleam in Vespera’s eye. He dodges. Or rather, he tries to dodge.

Unfortunately, Vespera still has his belt loops caught between her fingers, and when he slides, she slides too. They end up layered over a pair of ice-coated barrels, chest to chest, red-faced, and breathing heavily.

“Um…” Vespera’s face goes ruddy. “Um, um, um—" She attempts to untangle her fingers, but accidentally pulls Azaren’s pants down in the process.

She blinks. And blinks. And blinks some more. Then, she opens her mouth to ask a question, maybe two—hell maybe even three.

Before Azaren can explain himself, they’re interrupted by someone spitting; the sound is an echo from high above.

“Aw, ain’t that cute, young love! The New Gnisis Cornerclub is two alleys down, put that weapon away, serjo—and get a fucking room!”

#week two #week two: gray #writing #oc: azaren #oc: vespera #tescheer #tescheer2023

[tescheer]

@tescheer Week 2: Kiss

This is corny and poorly drawn but it's an OC idea I've had for awhile based on a post that implied that argonians don't have the facial anatomy to kiss (and Stellar here especially wouldn't with how long his snout is). Having grown up on Vvardenfell surrounded by Dunmer has left Stellar insecure about some of his argonian traits, despite his pride to be one, but luckily he finds a partner who eventually embraces his differences to her.

#week two #week two: kiss #artwork #oc: ramshurbani #oc: stellar #tescheer #tescheer2023

[tescheer]

A Light in the Darkness

Universe: TES IV: Oblivion (Vanilla) CW: Alcohol Words: 619 Context: Written for the @tescheer prompt "Lantern".

[Being an excerpt of Arkved of Cheydinhal's journal, c. 3E431]

The month of Morning Star is a drear and dreadful one. Even Anvil, jewel of the Gold Coast, is not immune to winter-tide storms filled with freezing rain and howling gales. The Abecean grows bitter and cruel under leaden skies, goaded by the winds to make rubble of the docks and soak through even the toughest oilcloth. The desperate weather, however, could not deter me from attending a most interesting event with my good friend, the painter Rythe Lythandas.

Attired in our glad rags and oilcloths, we ran through the sheeting rain from the Count's Arms to the Great Chapel of Dibella; for what better time than this dark and dreadful month to bring the light and cheer from a celebration of the Arts?

And cheer there was, in plenty! The church's main floor had been rearranged, with great trestles down the center and pews becoming seats at the feast table. And those pews were filled bursting with painters and playwrights, weavers and tale-spinners, artisans and lutists. The raucous crowd rhapsodized with animate flailing of limbs. Snatches of song, as took the players' fancy, filled the air. Laughter danced, sprinkled between lines of poetry.

The Sybil welcomed us in, bade us relax and find a place in the myriad company. I found my hand filled with a cup of mulled wine and with Rythe gayly beside me, took my time in admiring the chapel. It may surprise you, dear reader, that despite this chronicler's wide travels, I had yet to be inside this very chapel.

The chapel is a vast space, with arching hights – velvet-dark on this night of revelry – decorated in sheets of dainty lace. Planters of sunrise-coloured flowers adorned the altar, but what most struck me were the garlands of sacred lotus flowers. They hung suspended on threads of gold between the chapel pillars and, like joyful lanterns, glittered by some magical fancy. Under their soft incandescence, as if the hand of the goddess was laid upon my brow, I was filled with peace and awe at the marvels and wonder of our world. At my side, Rythe nudged me. "Committing it all to memory, eh?" "Indeed," said I, my gaze lingering upon them, "They're extraordinary in their holy beauty." "Take good note then, my friend. You can describe them to me anon, and I shall paint them for you." "Oh! You're the painter with the 'magic' brush," Rythe's neighbour cried, and Rythe turned away to converse with them, while my own – on hearing I was a scholarly adventurer – implored me to tell of my travels. And thus the night was spent in amiable chatter and the trading of stories; but ever did my eyes find those most sacred of blooms…

–––

Several months later, Rythe invited me to dine with he and his Lady wife, and bade me recount the glittering lotus blooms to her, her delighted smile widening as I spoke. As we were saying goodbye, he handed me a small rectangle, wrapped in cloth. I should not open it, said he, until I was at home. Dutifully I did so, and found to my most pleasant surprise a portrait of myself, gazing up at the golden blooms, my face dusted with buttercream light. It hangs in my study, mere feet from where I write now, lending me the joy of that night.

Although… I would swear to you, gentle reader, there is something otherworldly about it. On nights most foul, when winter has his firm and frozen grip upon the world, the painted blooms will glow with an echo of the revels in Anvil, dusting my room in Dibella's golden light.

#week three #week three: lantern #tescheer #tescheer2023 #writing #rythe lythandas #oc: arkved

[tescheer]

TESCheer Week Two

It's that time of the year! The holidays are upon us and so is @tescheer! I might post week one at another time, but for now I hope everyone enjoys week two.

The prompt I chose was mountain with a bit of gray thrown in and an almost-kiss. This is set in a completely random time that doesn't follow through with my main fic, Cursed Dawn.

Also landed close to WIP Wednesday, so I'm gonna tag @friend-of-giants, @boethiahspillowbook, @elfinismsarts, @thana-topsy, @v1ctory-or-sovngarde, @umbracirrus, @bostoniangirl21, @arisenlicious, @vivifriend, @thequeenofthewinter, @mareenavee, @lucien-lachance. If you guys wanna participate in TEScheer, make sure to tag me! The prompts are so, so, so good and I want to see what you guys write. Love you all and happy holidays!

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Entirely in Vilkas POV. No warnings apply.

My knees ached as I trudged up the mountain, the snow crunching under my steel boots. Snow fell down leaving a fine layer atop the seemingly eternal blanketed mountain - The Throat of the World. A foolish feat to get to the top, yet I found myself more and more eager to take a peek at High Hrothgar. Entrance, of course, would be denied. But to have simply a glimpse at the looming structure atop the highest mountain and knowing of what legendary men were beyond the doors was enough for me.

A frustrated grumble was heard behind me and I turned only to roll my eyes as I was met with my clumsy shield-sister, the eternal pain in my side, as she had sunk knee deep into a snow mound. I couldn't help but chuckle as I reached out to grab her hand and yank her up in one swift motion, a sheepish smile crossing her features as she dusted off her thick leathers.

"Stop underestimating how deep some spots are, else you're gonna be doing that a lot more." I spoke with a firm, yet amused tone. She had every right to come with me on this journey, yet she was making it more of a chore than a thrilling trip. Her company, however, was not completely unwanted, though I would never admit it to her face.

"That's what?" She shook the snow off the thick cloak I had loaned her the day prior. She hadn't needed it, for vampires don't feel the cold, yet something inside me knew she needed that added layer of protection, if not to only feel normal once again. "Five times already." She finished in between shakes, the snow blowing directly into my face.

"Can you put it back on and stop waving it around? Bound to catch the attention of a mountain troll with all the noise you're making."

"Sorry." She spoke, though there was no indication that she actually was. I snorted before turning on my heel and continuing up the mountain. I could make out the shape of High Hrothgar. We were close.

It was silent again for a time, just the soft crunching of snow. It didn't last too long. As we rounded a steep corner, it took everything in my power to still my heart as Caterina slid and only stopped herself from toppling over the edge by shoving her back up against the thick trunk of a spruce tree. Something raged within me. An anger I had known very few times. Though why? I wasn't sure. I should be worried. Relieved that the tree had caught her. But I discovered the anger was stemming from fear. With no hesitation, I stomped my way towards her, my height and thick armor making my weigh too much to be dragged down the steep edge. That was something that the breton needed to be aware of; that no matter what, she was not made for these conditions.

It had been some time since I let my emotions get the better of me as I loomed over her figure pressed against the tree, both of us just a step away from sudden doom. I glanced behind the tree and was met with nothing but the gray night - snow and fog from the mountain making it look as though we would be jumping into a bed of fresh snow and not to our deaths down the rocky edges below. Cat held no fear in her eyes as she glanced at me with a cheeky expression.

"That would have been bad."

"How many times do I have to tell you?" I began, my eye twitching as I stared her down, her eyes quickly diverting away from me I was hit with an immense amount of frustration. In one swift motion, I placed a finger under her chin and forced her to meet my steel gaze. Her eyes held a surprised expression as she parted her lips as if she were about to speak, but quickly closed them as if deciding against pushing my buttons further. Smart girl.

"I'm going to say this one last time." I lowered my voice as I inched my face closer to hers. "Be careful."

I gazed at her lips. Thin and so pale of a pink that it almost matched the tone of her skin. The only hint of color was the slight inflamed area of her lip that she sucked in her mouth to bit down on when she was nervous. These days, it came all too often and I caught Serana scolding her many times for her careless action.

Caterina looked at me expectedly and seemed to inch closer towards my face, triggering something within me. Empathy. Relief. Perhaps even affection. Wait. Affection? Absolutely not. As much as I wanted to pull her into my embrace and take those slightly damaged lips and press them firmly against my own… no. Yet my mouth was so close to her own that I could make out the sharpened points of her teeth as she parted her lips slightly as if she needed more air. In a quick motion she closed her lips, smiled, and affectionately pressed the tip of her nose against mine.

"It's Saturalia." She mumbled softly, her sudden voice taking me by surprise.

"What?" I opened my eyes and stared down at the breton as I yanked her from her dangerous position at the base of the tree. She made a soft noise at the sudden movement, but recovered quickly as we reached flat, non-dangerous land much to her relief.

"Saturalia. We need to hurry and get back before this coming up night, remember? I don't think anyone would ever forgive us if we missed the gift opening ceremony." She laughed as she rubbed at her cheeks before quickly placing her hands at her sides as if realizing that she still can't feel the cold.

"Phantom sensations again?" She only nodded in response. "And don't worry. So long as you don't get into more trouble, we should be able to make it."

"Good." She spoke with elation. "Because I have a really good present for you."

"What's that?"

"Me, of course."

"Wait, what?"

Her laugh was infectuous. "I'm only kidding. I'm not for sale and even if I was, you couldn't afford me." She joked. I couldn't help but smile at her impish behavior. "Now come on. Let's hurry. We have a party to get to soon."

And so we both continued, but for reasons unknown, I didn't want this time to end. I didn't want to share her with the others. I wanted her all to myself this day and had absolutely no plans on hurrying. Neither did she for that matter as she suddenly found herself getting stuck in another mound of snow.

I smiled.

#tescheer #tescheer2023 #week two #week two: kiss #week two: gray #week two: mountain #writing #vilkas #oc: caterina

[tescheer]

TES Cheer 2023 is Happening!

This year, things will be a bit different from the past two years, and you can find rules and more information on our pinned post here.

The event will run from November 26th, 2023 until December 25th, 2023, but there will also be a grace period until January 1st, 2024 as well! We understand that it can be a very busy time of year for many and want anyone who chooses to participate to feel as welcome as possible.

Please remember to @tescheer and tag your posts as #tescheer or #tescheer2023 so we can find you!

The Prompts

Week One: November 26th - December 2nd - Cloak - Snow - Sparkle - Home - Music

Week Two: December 3rd - December 9th - Sled - Gray - Kiss - Party - Mountain

Week Three: December 10th - December 16th - Gift - Lantern - Hat -Snuggle - Night

Week Four: December 17th - December 23rd - Bells - Dance - Fur - Blizzard - Treat

Week Five: December 24th - December 25th - Free Day

[Image ID available by clicking each image]

#reminder that anyone is welcome to jump in at any time

[tescheer]

until the day when you bring her back home to me

This is my first ever redraw! 12/23 (left) vs 7/21 (right). I remember the original was supposed to remain a sketch and I’ve always wanted to redo it but never got around to it. So I decided to do it for my week two submission for @tescheer for the prompt kiss! I like to think it’s what would have happened between Firien and Farkas if I had finished my one shot series for tescheer last year oops

I swear my next submission will be something original LMAO

#tescheer #tescheer2023 #week two #week two: kiss #artwork #oc: firien #farkas

[tescheer]

Happy week number two of @tescheer folks!!✨ I know that this is not entirely canon compliant but I am too obsessed with the idea of a New Years kiss with Brynjolf to care <3 This is another prompt combo - Kiss and Party :)

With each second that passed, they grew closer to the closing of that disastrous year. The Guild Master was tucked securely into her chair and attempted her sternest expression in case anyone happened to look her way. While the festivities were exciting, they were no excuse to fall behind in her work. Recruits needed fresh armor, new training dummies needed to be procured, and she had a meeting with the Black Briars that she'd yet to prepare for. Sweeping a hand over her table she grabbed a list of jobs yet to be assigned - a meeting with Delvin and Vex would certainly be added to her ever growing to-do list. 

Another round of laughter interrupted her thoughts. The Guild Master's gaze tracked around the tavern and felt something tugging in her chest - thieves gathered around the bar, drinks half finished and heads thrown back in laughter. It felt like a lifetime ago that she'd been part of their group, free from the constant weight of responsibility she now bore.

When she'd been awarded with the position of Guild Master it had felt like such an honor, a reward for what she'd endured. As the months dragged by she'd begun to realize why no one else was eager for the job. Mercer had enough thieving to last them a lifetime, which left her with little more than a never ending pile of paperwork and a persistent headache. 

"C'mon, lass." Brynjolf placed a mug of ale atop her list and the Guild Master grit her teeth. "Celebrate with us." 

"I have tasks to finish." She attempted to wave him off, though a hand around her wrist stopped whatever protest came next. Brynjolf's cheeks were slightly pink and his armor was unbuckled to reveal a dark shirt. Despite her best efforts she hadn't been able to stomp out that damned crush on him. It had stuck around since that first fateful encounter. The smile on his lips seemed to melt away all her worries when he guided her out of the chair. 

"It's almost the new year." He countered and she knew her resolve wouldn't last. She tried to remain wary but the excited chatter only grew as an ancient clock ticked down the seconds. The Guild Master's head felt fuzzy when Brynjolf's hand rested on her lower back, guiding her deeper into the crowd. Surrounded by old friends and new recruits, she allowed herself a moment of relaxation. 

"Been one hell of a year." Delvin's gruff voice cut through the rest, all conversations quieting. The Guild Master's cheeks burned when he raised his mug and nodded in her direction. "But with the help of Brynjolf and his favorite little recruit, we've finally righted the ship." 

Brynjolf's rich laugh warmed her heart. He remained close and bore an easy smile she'd seen less often during the past few weeks. He looked comfortable, like he could finally relax. A large hand patted her on the shoulder the Guild Master's stomach sank as all eyes turned to her. She prayed that they wouldn't expect a motivational speech.

"Choosin’ you is still the best decision I’ve ever made." His voice dripped with sentimentality and breathing became difficult. His gaze always knocked her off balance, heart skittering out of control and hands clumsy when he looked at her. She tended to ignore the childish crush, stuffing feelings down until they became easy to avoid. But as the last minute of their tumultuous year slipped away it was dangerously easy to grow closer to him, those old feelings bubbling to the surface. 

"Ten! Nine! Eight!" 

"I should get back to work." She breathed, enticed by the way Brynjolf had drifted closer. Bodies jostled as thieves joined in on a chant, counting down until the beginning of a new year. 

"Seven! Six!" 

"Is that what you want?" His words were heavy with another meaning she couldn't hope to discern. The Guild Master's throat ran dry when she recalled the old tradition - the myth that kissing your partner as the clock struck midnight heralded a prosperous new year. Brynjolf's deep green eyes took in every move she made and she knew she could reject him now, could flee to her desk and hide behind her work. 

"Five!" 

"No." She answered finally, hands trembling at her sides. Someone's elbow jabbed into her back as they hurried past, sending her stumbling closer to Brynjolf.

"Four!" 

"What do you want then, lass?" Deep and sultry, his words broke the last of her resolve. 

"Three! Two!"

Her eyes fluttered closed and her heart sang when she swallowed against the cowardly urge to back out. She'd sold her soul to a Daedric Prince and faced off against unbeatable foes, she could be brave for this one moment.

"One!" 

Kissing him was messy, arms flung around his shoulders and noses bumping together. He tasted like ale but the Guild Master paid it no mind. Brynjolf's hands steadied her, chuckling into the kiss. One strong arm wrapped around her waist and she was in heaven, Brynjolf's lips moving so easily against hers. It was better than all those little fantasies that had floated around in her mind over the years, clumsy yet perfect. Somewhere off in the distance she heard someone hollering her name but nothing mattered other than his kiss.

She didn't open her eyes when he pulled away, forehead pressed to hers. A soft kiss landed on her overheated cheek but she couldn't look quite yet. Her cheeks burned when she heard one of the thieves wolf whistling and fought to stay in this blissful little moment with Brynjolf.

"Hell of a way to start the new year." 

#week two #week two: kiss #week two: party #writing #brynjolf #the last dragonborn #tescheer #tescheer2023

[tescheer]

TES Cheer2023 Part 1: Snow

Nightgate Inn

Vilise found Levin on the inn's porch. The day wasn't quite finished with midmorning but what little sunlight made it through the lolling grey clouds was as crumpled as the fat flakes that tumbled gently through the sky. He stood at the foot of the stairs, head up, staring at the sky. "I've got the food packed. All that's left inside is your helmet. Grab that and we can get going." The older mer continued his vigil, the billowing puffs of his breath the only signs of life from him. The wind rustled his ragged mohawk. Vilise stepped up to her friend. "Levin? Did you see another dragon?"

"It don't snow like this back in Blacklight. It would, sometimes." He gave a little cough, breaking his stare and glancing around at the mountains. "In Silgrad, I mean. Blow out from here, down into the ash.” He shuffled and scratched his chin. “Wait here, I have an idea.” Vilise stood nonplussed as he clumped his muddy boots back up the stairs into the inn. Hadring’s brief cry of chagrin about the snow on the floor was cut off by the thump of the door shutting, dislodging a sizable clump of the wet mush onto the stairs. She sighed and stepped back onto the porch. They really did ought to be going, and Levin was taking far longer than a helmet took to fetch. Not that Vilise would say anything. It wasn’t her way and besides, her friend was roundabout in good ways. His insistence on dragging her into his world could be novel in ways that warranted breaking schedule. 

“Here we are!” The older mer shoved his way out of the door with an elbow holding two horns of something frothing. “Come on then, down to the pier, like.” Vilise shook her mane of white hair and followed him down the short path to the covered walkway, out to the end over the frozen lake. 

“Levin, what is this?”

“Old Dunmeri tradition. Probably only known to folk my side of the mountain. Certainly not outlanders like you. See, when the snow would come, that meant the nords would be coming through the mountains.” She noticed the little metal censer he usually used for incense had two piping hot, cherry-sized coals in them. “Young bucks, mostly, wanting to feel like men by predatin’ on our herds, like. Well, in the guard we had this tradition, like. At the first snow, you put a coal in your drink, and chug the rest, and whoever spits hot ash in the snow first gets to call the shots on patrol.” Vilise raised an eyebrow.

“And your superiors were okay with this?” 

“Oh gods no, but it were proper fun. Come on then, bottoms up, I’ll give you a head start.” He dropped the coals in the drinks, waving his toasted fingertips in the swirling flakes to cool them. Vilise shrugged, and gulped, watching that sulking orange ball inch toward her lips. It grew until it tickled her nose. She caught it in her teeth and spat, managing to singe her tongue only just a little. She beamed at Levin, still face up into his horn. He gave a great heave before doubling over and coughing a wet lump of coal into the snow building atop the icy lake. He turned, scrubbing cider from his chin, and stared in disbelief.

“I win!” He grinned back. 

“Well all right then, watchmaster, lead on!” Vilise puffed herself up importantly, shaking her green coat like a harness and tabard.

“Right then, recruit Levin, first things are first things. Fetch your helmet.” It was her turn to look up at those swirling grey clouds. “You’ve got snow in your hair.”

#week one #week one: snow #oc: levin #oc: vilise #writing #tescheer #tescheer2023

[tescheer]

Happy week one of @tescheer everyone!✨ This is fairly short since I'm still recovering from Nano, but I decided to write a little snippet with the first week's prompts Cloak and Snow :)

Starlight twinkled across the night sky, interrupted only by the white flakes as they drifted lazily toward the ground. The well worn footpath was long lost under gathering snowbanks. The Dragonborn's hands raised toward the heavens, fingertips growing numb after a long trek. Their mouth opened but found there were no words that could capture nature's beauty; snowflakes whirled in all directions and fell to blanket the silent plains of Whiterun. Trees bowed and swayed as snow gathered upon their branches, beasts silent and hiding from the late winter chill. They puffed out a cloudy breath and grinned up at the colors dancing over the horizon. For one brief moment they felt entirely alone in the universe.  "You'll catch your death out here."

Vilkas grumbled from nearby, arms surely folded over his chest. They ignored his tone - he meant no harm. Turning to chastise him for ruining the moment they paused, taken aback by the sight. Vilkas' dark hair collected flecks of snow, soft brown eyes sweeping across the landscape. Chilly winds had left his lips pink and gloved hands tightened the fur lined cloak around his shoulders. Against a backdrop of pure white he stood prominent, a shadow contrasting the dreamy background. A gentle breeze stole away the fog of his breath and whipped hair out of his face, causing the Dragonborn's heart to thump against their ribs.  He was beautiful. Bundled into his layers and brows furrowed, Vilkas looked stunning even as he stood ankle deep in snow. Despite all his grumping he'd insisted on accompanying them on their walk. Throughout his endless stream of snarky comments Vilkas had tied a scarf around their neck before tiptoeing out of Jorrvaskr. The Dragonborn stared at this man who seemed to care so deeply despite his endless protests and felt something swell deep in their chest.  "What?" He barked, cheeks bright when his glare cut over to them. His gaze softened and the Dragonborn felt a thread between their hearts snap into place, a string tightening and drawing them closer. Snow crunched underfoot as they stomped to stand before Vilkas, unsure what they intended to say.  "You're pretty." The Dragonborn watched a flash of color raise in his face, those brown eyes panning over the white hills once more. Vilkas cleared his throat as he pointedly avoided meeting their gaze but he did not move away. The Dragonborn's muscles tensed, awaiting whatever killing blow he intended to deal - his words were always especially cutting. They were stunned when he remained silent, gloved hands raising to the clasp of his cloak.  In one quick flourish, fur and soft cloth was wrapped around their body. Vilkas focused intently as he pinned it in place around their throat, the supple leather of his gloves brushing against their jaw. The Dragonborn didn't speak as he worked, though something about the way their mingling breath formed a small cloud between them captured their heart. Snowflakes continued to gather in the gentle waves of his hair, one catching on his long lashes before he stepped back.  "I told you to wear a coat." He chided, though the annoyance in his voice felt empty. Swathed in fur warmed by his body the Dragonborn couldn't help but feel cared for, his cloak wrapped neatly over their half buckled armor. It radiated the smells of home - smoke from the crackling fire in Jorrvaskr's main hall and a hint of juniper berries. The Dragonborn tucked their arms into Vilkas' cloak and, feeling just a tad daring, grasped blindly for his hand. He grumbled but accepted it, eventually allowing an arm around his middle as their legs grew tired.  The Dragonborn didn't keep track of how long they remained out there, standing on one of the many hills surrounding Whiterun's outer walls. A fallen guard tower jutted up through the blanket of snow coating the plains and constellations danced overhead, watery moonlight playing across the land. It felt so simple to simply exist with him, allowing snow to gather around their boots and melt into their hair. The two returned to Jorrvaskr when the first rays of sunlight peeked across the horizon, painting the snowy lands in all shades of pink and yellow. Soon, children would begin waking and dragging their parents into the streets. Creatures would emerge from their cover in search of food and the stars would melt into the sky. Life would march on as it always had. Each year when the snow began to fall, the Dragonborn could not help but fondly recall that night spent gazing into the heavens with Vilkas. He was not a man of flowery words but had proven that he would always be there to chase away the cold.

#week one #week one: cloak #week one: snow #writing #vilkas #the last dragonborn #tescheer #tescheer2023

[tescheer]

For @tescheer's prompt 'CLOAK' 🎄✨

Pre-Scarface!Sinder getting suckered into telling tales to tots on Saturalia because the festival just so happened to fall on another auspicious Khajiiti holiday. *cough* (Aaaand that was the first and last year he was allowed such an 'honor'. 😅)

#week one #week one: cloak #oc: sinder #artwork #tescheer #tescheer2023

[tescheer]

For the @tescheer week one prompt, Sparkle! Honestly I wrote this for the original TESCheer (a different prompt) but it's been long since forgotten so I gave it a good edit and am reposting it now!

-

The night was cold, colder than it would have been if the sky was painted with clouds. But it was a clear night, one where the glow of the moons reflecting off the snow mirrored the light of stars shining crisply in the heavens above, casting the land in a glitter of sparkling white and blue. There was an occasional stray cloud that floated over, pushed by the frigid northern wind, but it was not enough to disguise that on this night, the sky was nearly bright as day, though still as cold as the glaciers in the Sea of Ghosts. A perfect night for a hunter to stalk their prey across the plains of Whiterun, or for a farmer to finish a few chores he had not finished before the sun settled in behind the westward mountains, or for a Bosmer to take a long walk far beyond the walls of the city to clear her thoughts.

Firien's footsteps crunched softly in the snow as she made her way through the rolling hills and rocky fields that surrounded the city. A night like this one reminded her of the night she had first learned about her being the Dragonborn. Though the moons had been absent then, there had been just as many stars. She recalled Farkas marveling at how many there were, how his mere existence had annoyed her to her core. 

It was amusing to think how far they had come since then, how far she had come since then.

She had come farther than she ever thought possible since leaving Valenwood. It was hard to convince herself that she had not squandered the years, yet she had little regret. Every choice she had made, every step she had taken, every mistake she had thought she made led her to right where she was; victorious in the eyes of fate, with a warm and safe place to live, surrounded by people who love her.

And before Alduin's defeat, Firien had lived as though she was running out of time. Which, given, she had thought she was. But now, with Alduin vanquished and the war at a temporary standstill, she had time to enjoy her life.

At least, for now.

For once, she did not want to fret about the future. She wanted to just be. Surely, she could steal this one moment in time to do just that. For once, she was content to be content.

"Why do I always find you in the coldest places possible?"

Farkas' voice was sprinkled with amusement. She had long since heard his footsteps following hers in the snow, knew he would catch up to her eventually, but she was still secretly overjoyed that he had joined her.

"I like the cold," she replied simply as he fell into step beside her.

"I know you do." His hand sought hers and they continued her walk together. "Something on your mind tonight, my love?"

Firien shrugged, barely a lift of her shoulders. "I could not sleep. A walk seemed sensible, to clear my mind and expend some of my energy."

"Ah," replied Farkas with a grin. "A walk through the bitter cold in the middle of the night. Most wouldn't call that sensible."

"The cold keeps me alert," she said, somewhat defensively.

"No need to explain yourself to me," Farkas said in a tone that warmed her heart and her bones. "If you want to continue alone, I can go back to Jorrvaskr and leave you to it."

There was no hostility nor animosity or judgement in his tone. Only kindness and understanding. Firien looked up at him gratefully, squeezing his hand slightly.

"Your company is never unwelcome, one of my heart," she replied. "I was just reflecting on how far I have come since I first met you. What better person to reflect upon that with than the one most involved?"

"You have come very far," he agreed. "I'm very proud of you."

Affection and pride blossomed in Firien's heart. She stopped in her tracks and faced him. And Farkas drew her in, holding her close as he pressed a gentle kiss on her forehead. She wrapped her arms around his waist, and though her walk was far from over that night, she could steal another moment to just be with him. 

All at once, the stars seemed to sparkle a little more brightly.

#week one #week one: sparkle #writing #farkas #oc: firien #tescheer #tescheer2023

[tescheer]

Happy TES Cheer! 🎄❄️🎄❄️🎄❄️

Ty so much to @tescheer putting the event together! I'm bringing snowball shenanigans from the Fort--no hot chocolate is safe in the firing zone!

... Oops!

And as much as I love Celann (very dearly 💞) I'm also excited to show you:

SORINE AUTOMATIC SNOWBALL LAUNCHER!!!!

Her special holiday project!

Happy Holidays from Fort Dawnguard! Happy TES Cheer!

🎄❄️🎄❄️🎄❄️🎄❄️🎄❄️

#week one #week one: snow #oc: celann #artwork #dawnguard #tescheer #tescheer2023