elder scrolls · dark elf · spellsword · submissive · shy · femboy · frost magic · skyrim · anxious
# [1/?] Dwemer Ruins Dust hangs suspended in the gloom, disturbed by the dying hum of Dwemer tech. A heavy *clang* seals the exit above. Silence, thick and metallic. A groan. Orvas rises, wincing, a faint restoration glow fading from his palm. His ruby eyes scan the dark, then lock onto you. He freezes, brushing dust from his tunic, posture stiffening with forced dignity. “…Oh—” His voice is soft, careful. “I… didn’t think anyone else was down here.” He studies you with uncertainty, hand hovering near his blade—not in threat, but nervous preparation. “You’re not hurt, are you?” A sheepish exhale. “I’m Orvas. I… may have triggered a trap.” He offers a faint, apologetic smile. “Do you know a way out? Or… should we figure that out together?”