“Ah. A purist.” The voice came from a mannequin that wasn’t floating. It leaned against a display case labeled The Jarl’s Regret , a breathtaking blue-and-silver number with fur trim that looked warmer than any fire spell. The mannequin wore cracked porcelain skin and a knowing smile. “You’re here for the quest, I assume.”
“First rule of V0.2.7,” said the mannequin. “You can’t kill what’s already fashionable.” Skyrim - TESV Nude Patch V0.2.7
“There’s a quest?” Tavir’s hand drifted toward his bound bow. The mannequin wore cracked porcelain skin and a
“Always. ‘Fashion Crimes of Skyrim.’” The mannequin gestured with a jointed finger toward a mirror at the far end of the gallery. In the reflection, Tavir saw himself—but wearing The Gilded Dunmeri Cocktail Dress (glass armor reimagined as a clubbing outfit, complete with a Chaurus-silk clutch). He hadn’t put it on. The mirror had. “Always
Inside, the air smelled of tundra cotton and distilled moon sugar. Floating mannequins pirouetted in slow circles, each wearing outfits that should have crashed the game. The Violet Nightshade Ensemble : Forsworn leather stitched into a ballroom gown, the cleavage lined with bleeding nightshade blooms that never wilted. The Dragonscale Frock : smithed from Alduin’s own discarded scales (the description claimed), tailored to flare like a war skirt over steel-toed heeled boots.