“Oh, be a sport, Sie. Look, it likes you!”

 

“It’s pretending,” Sielaire utters, sitting rigidly straight even as the gryphon in her lap rubs its head against her cheek.

 

“No, you’re just being grumpy.” Ayrenn tweaks her nose, obviously taking too much pleasure in how ‘grumpy’ Sielaire is.

 

“This one’s going to grow up and knock me off a cliff too,” Sielaire continues to grouse, jerking her head back when the gryphon’s beak poked into her face. “I can’t believe you actually got me a gryphon.” Despite her alleged dislike for it, Sielaire runs a hand down the white, fluffy plumage on its head.

 

“You like it, Sie. Admit it,” Ayrenn laughs. “Besides, one can only have so many cats before tiring of them.” A crooked smirk curves her lips as Sielaire’s eyes grow round, and Ayrenn quickly lifts her phone to distract her. “Now, smile for the camera!”

 

“Renn-!” Sielaire starts to say, as Ayrenn snaps a string of photos - all with Sielaire looking utterly nonplussed, while the baby gryphon gazes adoringly up at her. “You’re-, I don’t-! Cats are just fine!”

 

“Of course they are, dear,” Ayrenn sings, pinching Sielaire on the chin. Then she scoops the gryphon up into her arms, raising it to the air playfully. “Come, let’s go to the park and let this little one catch some wind, yes?”

 

“But-, Renn!”

 

“Last one to the car is a rotten banana!”

 

 

 

Ayrenn: For all locations, she has an even mix of dresses and pants. It really depends on the purpose of her visit. If she’s there in a royal capacity, it’s mostly dresses. In more casual/personal settings, she’ll wear pants. When traveling, she’ll still wear some light armour for safety. Her wardrobe might vary for official visits: her tailors sometimes alter the usual Altmer fashion to include some flair to match local fashions. She has a good fashion sense, and a huge royal wardrobe to go with it.

 

Sielaire: Mostly same as Ayrenn, except even in official settings she’s more likely to wear pants and coats instead - she’s more mobile in them, and can react quickly in times of trouble. She has a good fashion sense, though her fixation with scarves might seem a little overboard at times. Of course, she has a wardrobe to match her royal spouse’s - in size and style.

 

Aneril: She wears dresses more often - preferably light ones that end above the knee, though she wears longer ones in cold weather. When traveling, it’s usually a shirt and pants - made of sturdier cloth to withstand wear. She doesn’t vary her clothes much, only the weather really affects her wardrobe. Her fashion’s good by Summerset standards - she knows what flatters her body and which jewelry goes with it. Her wardrobe is modest in size, bigger than a regular commoner’s.

 

Vareysa: Shirt and pants. Sometimes nice vests and jackets. If she’s feeling fancy, maybe a half cape too. This goes for everywhere, even while she’s on the road. She doesn’t really vary her clothes until she’s in the city itself, and if something new catches her eye, she’ll try it out. Her fashion sense is pretty standard, though it can sometimes fly out of the window when she experiments. Her wardrobe’s smaller than Aneril’s, but lasts just as long.

Selyn: Pants with shirt or robes. She likes longer, flowing clothes - sort of like a typical mage, but she avoids ankle-length robes for mobility. On the road, she dresses the same, maybe with a piece of armour or two for protection (and because her moms nagged). She doesn’t vary her fashion, doesn’t really care to. To her, what is comfortable is fashionable. So she thinks it’s good. Her wardrobe’s more to Aneril’s size.

 

 

“Mm,” Ayrenn hums, leaning on the kitchen counter. “Wish you were kneading my dough instead.”

 

Sielaire rolls her eyes, sighing as she continues kneading the actual dough between her flour-covered hands. “Renn, you’re supposed to be helping me with this. You’re the one who wanted to cook in the first place.”

 

“I know, Sie dear,” Ayrenn croons. “But you’re so good with your fingers, it made me forget…” She lets out a crude giggle-snort when Sielaire pinches her nose, coating it in a layer of white.

 

“Help me, dearest,” Sielaire says, sickly sweet. “Or you can forget about eating any of this.”

 

Ayrenn pouts playfully, then hands Sielaire the small prep bowl of oil. And as her wife is brushing over the baking bowl, Ayrenn presses up to her side and purrs, “Bet you wish you were oiling up something else instead.”

 

“Like…the most spoiled child in Tamriel?” Sielaire deadpans, though a faint smirk curves her lips when Ayrenn gives her a peck.

 

“So you are thinking about me.”

 

“More like, you just admitted you are a child.” Sielaire puts the dough in the oiled bowl, covers it with a wet towel, then sets it in the warm oven to rise. As she moves to the sink to wash her hands, Sielaire heaves a louder sigh when Ayrenn comes to stand beside her.

 

Sielaire flicks the tap off and turns to face Ayrenn, who holds a box of cherries in her hand. She keeps a straight face, wiping off Ayrenn’s flour-covered nose with her wet fingers, while her wife wears a crooked smile and picks up a single cherry.

 

“Sie, taste it,” Ayrenn says, prodding the cherry at Sielaire’s mouth. “Come on, taste my cherry.”

 

Sielaire snorts, a smile appearing on her face. “I swear, if you say another word, I’ll leave.”

 

“No, you wouldn’t. You’re stuck with me, my darling wife,” Ayrenn sings sweetly, as Sielaire takes the cherry between her teeth, plucking it from the stem.

 

“You’re horrible,” Sielaire murmurs, coaxing a smile to Ayrenn’s lips when she dips in for a kiss.

 

“Only for you, Sie.” Ayrenn’s crooked smile breaks into a grin. “Only for you.”

 

Of all the damned, reckless things this mer chose to do, why did she choose to enter this cave, all alone and unannounced, leaving the rest of the entourage to panic while Ayrenn sent the guards in after her? This is a frequent hideout for pirates and smugglers, and was even home to a Sload during the Daedric crisis, for Auri-El’s sake! Ayrenn rarely gets angry with her wife, but now she has half a mind to grab Sielaire by the shoulders, and shake her to her senses-

 

The crunch of boots on sand and gravel catches their attention, and Ayrenn looks up as her guards step forward with swords at ready. But they relax at the sight of Sielaire, accompanied by her own guards. Her dress is still clean but for a few spots of dirt, her cheek bears a small scratch, and in her arms are…

 

“Oh, Sie,” Ayrenn groans, moving forward to meet her wife. “Did you really just go in there for a stray kitten?”

 

Sielaire breaks into a smile - bashful, yet with a goofiness borne of her success. “I couldn’t let it wander in there all alone…”

 

Ayrenn watches as Sielaire scratches behind the large ears of the kitten, which will no doubt find a new home in the palace soon. Face falling into her hand, Ayrenn frowns and rumbles, “Let’s head back to the carriage. And bring me a bottle of wine.”

 

Sielaire stares at Ayrenn, frozen as her world crumbles around her, heart turned to ashes.

 

“I can’t take your cats anymore,” Ayrenn whispers, tears welling up in her eyes.

 

“No,” Sielaire says, a mere echo of herself. She takes a few steps back. “You-, I’m done. We’re done.”

 

“Sie, please,” Ayrenn begs, moving to follow Sielaire as her wife starts walking away, picking up every cat in her path. But her teary voice turns perplexed when Sielaire reaches the door. “Sie. Sie, why are you taking Raz-?”

 

“Well then,” Raz drawls, not bothering to resist when Sielaire hauls him onto her shoulder. His tail sways in amusement, then drapes over Sielaire’s head. “Raz guesses this is goodbye, kitten.”

 

A lockpick, loose coins, maybe a small pouch of candied nuts. She doesn’t really like keeping stuff in her pockets though. Prefers belt pouches.

 

 

She doesn’t go out of her way to interact with them. She just behaves normally, if a little better than usual. But when one approaches her, she turns into a kid herself rather easily. Children feel pretty comfortable around her.

 

 

She’s unsure of anything that happens beyond the bounds of Nirn. But she does know this - it’s common for Dunmer ancestors to remain on Nirn as spirits to help their descendants. And if she can, she’ll remain for Selyn as long as she’s able. For Anni too; she kinda expects her Altmer wife to outlive her.

 

 

Coldharbour. It haunts her even centuries after the Planemeld, though much less often, and they don’t affect her badly anymore. Some nightmares involve her losing Rey and Selyn - these scare her most.

 

 

Most often, it’s about casting or inventing ridiculous magical spells herself - after she’s had long days of research and experiments. There’s also this silly little dream where she’s always riding about on a guar, and crossing a sea made of scrib jelly…? Makes her wake up hungry.

 

You’d think it’s when her eye was shot, and she was lying on the ground, clutching her head and howling in pain, right??

 

No. It’s when she accidentally scratched Milah’s hoverbike that she took for a spin.

 

37. Is your character more concerned with defending their honor, or protecting their status? [Ana]

 

Honour. What’s the point of status without honour, integrity?

 

 

“Does Milah count? :p”

 

-cue Milah suplexing her to the ground-

 

 

She experienced it. Kamilah heard, loud and clear on the comms, her squad leader giving the order to leave her behind in the collapsing bunker. ‘Leave her, it doesn’t matter.’ It killed something in her that day.

 

Her therapist and Ana knows.

 

 

She’ll remove herself. But after she’s had her family, she’ll remove the problem/threat, because she has reason to stay.

 

 

Honestly, she doesn’t really care. What comes, will come. If she goes to paradise, cool. If she goes to hell, eh. At least Ana will be there too :p

 

Ana shows up for dinner. Milah goes “Oh crap I forgot to cook your portion.”

 

-

 

Fareeha leaving work, “Bye guys I’m late for meeting my moms.”

 

“Don’t you mean ‘mom’?”

 

“Haha yeah totes!” -sweats-

 

-

 

Milah trudging into the bathroom in the morning and getting the shock of her life when she sees Ana brushing her teeth.

 

“Oh FUCK I THOUGHT YOU WERE A GHOST”

 

-

 

Milah and Fareeha drive off on a trip to another state, and 1 hour later Milah goes “Habibti I feel like we’ve forgotten something.”

 

“………WE FORGOT AMI.”

 

It causes plenty of friction during the war, mostly Renn being frustrated with Sie’s obligation, and Sie getting angry that Renn broke their rule a few times to save her. Renn takes a while to accept it, then hones herself in restoration magic to keep her love alive, and alleviate the pain Sie suffers for her sake.