Sketching Out Some Dunmer Funerary Outfits, With Bonus Headcanons About Funerary Traditions Below The

Sketching out some Dunmer funerary outfits, with bonus headcanons about funerary traditions below the cut. and personal insight with these characters' outfits and their interpretations of traditions.

ID in ALT, RB to Support an Artist :)

So lots of these initial headcanons are drawn from others on tesblr, I'll have links to the source if I can find the post. My own additions to the HCs are italicized until we get to funerary bits which are of my own thoughts from my special interest in after death care practices :)

(I can't remember who posted this HC but I love it extensively) The mourning colors for dunmer are white and grey, for Ash. Usage of black in mourning was introduced primarily to house dunmer by human culture influences. Red is a common secondary color, but especially for Ashlanders to represent blood and fire, as they have been met with much bloodshed and pushed to almost inhospitable volcanic regions of Morrowind that has caused a lot of death among them.

There is This hc collection by @jiubilant that features hair cutting as a show of immense grief and mourning. It began in chimer/early dunmer culture. It has persisted with the velothi, while with house dunmer it has evolved simply to cutting off a single lock, or an inch or two in general. In both cultures, the hair is burned with the body.

And @kagrenacs has a lovely HC about veils made of spider silk being very common during mourning, to give the idea that their mind is with the deceased who had passed beyond the veil. I've combined that with my own headcanon that daedric spider silk is a beautiful, strong fabric with an almost organza like weight and sheerness, but does not take to dyes very much, so it's commonly used in its plain white form. Perfect for mourning veils and other accessories.

I have my own headcanons for funerary differences between House Dunmer and Ashlanders as well. Across the board, it is often expected that the closer you are to the deceased, the more serious you must take your clothing and presentation for the funeral. There are exceptions, of course, but not frequent. For a society so entwined with death, Funerals are a very serious affair steeped in tradition.

For a House Dunmer that is not of the wealthy variety, it remains a formal event, but clothing is left more lax in how much white you wear. In wealthier families, it is much more rigid. If you don't own a mostly white ensemble you are expected to purchase or make one. The traditional funeral service is often a single day affair, but a long one. It is also typically not handled by next of kin, but guided through by the local Temple. Much of the service and memorial happens after the deceased has already been cremated. It is typically a day of fasting as well, thought a grand meal is presented at the end of service for mourners to have a small serving, the rest is burned for the deceased.

For Ashlanders, it is jointly much more steeped in tradition yet also much less formal than their House counterparts. It is a multi day affair, typically, led by the next of kin (NoK) with assistance from the Wise Woman. The deceased is often carefully washed by NoK, and either dressed in their best clothes or wrapped in fabric. Plain scathecraw fabric is a common choice, but others may opt for imported linen or cotton, or even a nice silk. A small Wake is held if the NoK wants. This is typically where people will present offerings or gifts to be burned with the deceased. Hair trimmings, food, foliage, and on occasion, hand written notes are tucked with the body. This is an informal event, where the wearing of white is not required, but can be worn if desired. Food for mourners, music, and stories of the deceased are told to honor the life they lived.

The next day the deceased is cremated in a ceremony in the community center. It is a day where mourning is expected at it's peak, as is formality and tradition. Under the guidance of the Wise Woman, the NoK light the pyre. The Wise Woman leads the ceremony, primarily, saying prayers to Azura, Mephala, and Boethiah to guide them. If they are intending to be preserved as an ancestor ghost to be called upon, that ritual happens now as well. It is a day of fasting.

The next day is when the cremains are interred into the chosen resting place and is a very small gathering. NoK, close friends, Wise Woman, and sometimes Khans. They are allowed to dress informally, but most typically do not. Wearing some form of white is expected for a few months, unless one cut their hair short. The community typically cooks a large meal to be eaten upon the mourners return.

For personal explanations of these characters' clothes. They are both Ashlanders, at the cremation of their mother, who had a very untimely death. The girl on the left (my oc Nileyransi) is wearing very traditional clothing. It was her mother's. The veil and belt are both of Daedric spider silk. She wears more red than usual out of vanity than anything else. She worries all white will wash her out, with her white hair. She has cut hair hair a few inches to shoulder length as a show of mourning. Despite being the younger of the two, she has been leading ceremonies.

The one on the left (Massara) is wearing an outfit so untraditional with black and red being it's primary colors it would almost be disrespectful, if not for that fact that their mother made it. The skirt on the belt is of spider silk, and the jacket is traditional. They have cut their hair very short as a sign of intense grieving. The jewelry is of their own choice, as there's not much regulation on that.

A bit too late to submit for @nerevar-quote-and-star pin-up challenge but I loved the prompt ideas sm that I couldn't resist painting spellcrafting Ildari :3

I've made this illustration to give vent to my hype over @greyborn2's fanfic - about the early history of Tel Mithryn and... goblins.

Check this fragment out:

As such places generally were, the slave markets of Dagon Fel were a sad little affair. Only the Dres tried to hide the misery places like that held. With mixed success. Mostly this one wasn’t even run by distinguished traders; it was just unfortunates trying to sell themselves or a family member off for some hope of escaping this ashen rock. Quality was an assurance that could not be relied upon without knowing what to look for. It took Neloth a good hour of questioning, and shooing away hopefuls, before he even started to find some that knew the first thing about brewing tea. Even fewer seemed to have the skill… the basic decencies and decorum… he expected of a potential steward.

Isn't it the Dunmer literature in its purest form? Here's the entire work, have fun reading as I did :D

Khajro being given a moon amulet by his mum. So that he can always remember his home and the warm sands.

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Why so few arts of this adorable khajiit follower?

When I escaped the dragon and safely arrived to Riverwood Faendal was the first living being to greet me (well, except the chicken of course xD). He stood there, basking in the sunlight, waiting with his quest. In the distance loomed a vision of our forthcoming adventure in Bleak Falls Barrow.

*@elfcyclopedia is my second account lol I posted it on the wrong one lol

Still tagging @thana-topsy, @greyborn2 and @katastronoot :3

Fic Lines! Tag Game~

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Thanks @thana-topsy by tagging me :3 And therefore recognizing me as a fellow writer even though I still haven't posted anything online. Yet.

The fragments are from two fanfics I'm working on, both telling the story of Ildari Sarothril from her perspecive. They are namely:

"She Looks so Beautiful in Her Grave: A Prelude" and "Ashes Feed My Revenge"

As I said, I haven't posted them yet. But if you get interested feel free to dm me, I'll gladly share my work so far with you :3

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Ok, so here we go:

A line from your fic that makes you sad

He looked around the graveyard once again. The dawn greeted him with shy, pinkish rays dispersed in the morning mist. Lighting the sea, the grave… The beautiful and deadly nightshades painted ornate, slender shadows on the ash. The dawn, the time of the Mother of Roses. Silver tears filled his eyes. Oh what a lowly mortal he is, in the face of death, in the face of the Gods. He leapt down on his knees, facing the rising sun, and prayed, prayed ardently being sorry for Azura, Boetiah and Mephala for what he’s about to do. But he couldn’t help it, he couldn’t help it!

(from "She Looks so Beautiful in Her Grave: A Prelude")

A line from your fic that makes you want to punch a character

Master fucking Neloth. Ulves’ face was hued red with anger. It was him who killed her. He coaxed Ildari into performing some unfortunate experiment on her. Two days ago Ulves floated up into the main tower to bring his master food when he casually informed him to dig a fresh grave. His blood boiled from the sole thought of it. He wished to kill him with his whole heart. But he felt so powerless. The old sly wizard would fry him down to a crisp before he could even unsheathe his axe. The only option would be poisoning his meal… but it was very probable that this ash-sucker would survive somehow. And that would mean the end of Ulves’ life. And even if his master, what would that change? There was nothing that Ulves wanted to do after that.

(from "She Looks so Beautiful in Her Grave: A Prelude")

A line from your fic you want to talk about more

Imagine silence. But in its foulest form. The silence that is only found in places of death, sending shivers down the spines of the living. The stillness of a burnt-down village. The void that fills the space after a man has uttered their last words. Somewhere, all among that silence a faint sound could be heard. Ildari’s heart started beating.

(from "Ashes Feed My Revenge")

A line from your fic you're proud of

And there she was outside, barely treading, yet irate enough to kick the ash left and right with a sour grimace. The grim landscape stretched before her - all was only ash and burned-down trees, with suggestions of the shoreline and the mountains of the other side. But they were distant, covered by the thick clouds of wind-swept ash. […] As much as she hated the musty air in the tower, outside it wasn’t much better. Even though the wind was merely a breeze, she already choked a few times on the ash that got inside of her windpipe.

(from "Ashes Feed My Revenge")

A line from your fic that's full of symbolism

Her mind was failing her, it was like a barren soil that couldn’t hold onto any seeds of thought, and certainly not let them develop. After a whole eternity of torment, she couldn’t help but close her eyes.

(from "Ashes Feed My Revenge")

A line from your fic that makes you laugh

“Knock, knock! Can I come in?” chirped Niyya right outside the door of her room. That was weird. She was getting suspiciously friendly so quickly. Well, so far it was harmless. She’s probably one of those people that take all of their life’s pleasures in serving the others and have the reputation of a saint in the society - unless you are the one they are actually helping - then they become really annoying.

(from "Ashes Feed My Revenge")

A line from your fic you think could have been better

“Is everything all right?” How dare she ask such a question? Of course it wasn’t! Just look at her.

(from "Ashes Feed My Revenge")

A line from your fic that contains an Easter egg

[I don't feel like I've ever written one, sorry ): ]

A line from your fic that's shocking WARNING: suicidal ideation

She put the book down and covered her face with hands. It only takes so much to strip a man off the will to live. What if the voices are never going to subside? And the pain? She can’t live like that! What will she do? Will there be anything to live for? She imagined herself, lifeless, half-buried in ash, like this poor young Bosmer necromancer not unlike her, rotting away - only to be found by a flabbergasted traveller that wouldn’t even have the guts to give the final rites. No voices would be heard then. No pain would trouble her. Not a single tormenting thought would ever cross her mind. Tempting. She heard footsteps coming.

(from "Ashes Feed My Revenge")

A line from your fic that makes you go 'aww'

“Um… Ildari” Niyya hesitated. ”I think you are… pretty.” The Redguard’s face turned dark red. Now Ildari understood why Niyya was so suspiciously friendly. But, she was a girl - a mere miner for damn’s sake. And there she was, making goo-goo eyes at her. Ildari wanted to puke.

(from "Ashes Feed My Revenge")

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I don't know much fellow writers (yet) but I feel like @katastronoot and @greyborn2 might come up with something interesting :3