whalesbone's Links
He thinks Rydrith is a great friend with great drinks; he's a constant in this new and strange world and Hummus appreciates him being there.
They wonder why Rydrith is constantly trying to kill them and Hummus, but Hummus seems to like him, so A'gon figures they can trust Rydrith, if no one else in this ashy land.
With his understanding of magic and the wealth of his House, it would be a fairly trivial matter to extend his husband's life by a century or two. Gail wouldn't have wanted that, though. In his youth, Fadren simply couldn't understand the human perspective on death, how anyone could be happy with less than a century to live. Passing a hundred years old himself, sometimes he wonders if humans are the lucky ones after all. Sometimes still, he thinks that Gail's ability to make peace with such things so easily was one of the reasons he fell in love in the first place.
Gail is intelligent, a skilled alchemist. He's also much like a skittish horse in that he doesn't really understand how strong he is and may accidentally trample someone who startles him. In his own opinion, he worries too much, speaks before he thinks, and has been known to cry because he accidentally killed a caterpillar. All in all, he has no idea why Fadren agreed to marry him. Luckily, Fadren pretty much felt the same way about himself. They're a well-fitting pair of disasters.
A staunch traditionalist in life, he's not exactly elated about the westernization of his House. Fadren talks and acts like a Nord, mashed their House name together with a Nordic one, and doesn't even put that amalgamation before his given name. Were he still alive, he might warm up to these changes, or at least accept them given Vvardenfell's uninhabitability. But spirits are slow to change. In the end, a Skjelvik-Varys is still a Varys, and as an ancestor spirit it's Rydrith's job to guide all members of his House, no matter how funny they sound to him.
According to his parents, Rydrith is a Tamrielic hero and a saint within their House. According to Fadren's personal experience with the mer's spirit, he's also annoying, hard to understand, arguably racist, and still hasn't gotten over the fall of the Tribunal despite having centuries to come to terms with it. Now and then he does give good advice, even if he obscures them in riddles for no good reason. And despite all the cultural barriers, there are some things about being a Prisoner that only others with the same fate would understand.
Vim finds that bees and children are pretty similar. Easily lost, but quickly set right when given something to follow. Cute. Kind of stupid. Aevon was always harder to understand, and there are so many things about Bosmer, about Prisoners, about not having a tail or not being covered in feathers that Vim just doesn't know how to help with. As a father though, he can provide one of the things that Aevon needs most in his journey: unconditional love.
Most children decide that Vim-Thota is their favorite co-parent because he is big and fluffy like a giant chicken. As a child, Aevon agreed with this metric. In his adult years, as his horns grew in and the forest's whispers grew too loud to ignore, he found his Bosmeri family overbearing at times. Always celebrating his connection to the Green on his behalf. Vim wasn't oblivious, but he preferred to keep to his bees than get involved in Bosmer spiritualism. Aevon found solace in this in his later years. Of course, the fluffiness still granted Vim bonus points.