vvardenfellcat:

It was a nice break from the constant dreary landscape of Winterhold, this festival. He’d braided a few choice leaves into Ghost’s mane, giving her some splashes of autumn colors against her normally pale coat, feeding her pieces of apple as he took swigs of a special festival brew he was actually coming to like. Shame it was only for the festival. He’d like a crate or two back up at the College for later.

Ghost lipped at his mane, ready for another slice of apple to crunch. J’hasi chuckled, cutting another slice off with his knife, holding it up for her to lip up and crunch, nickering softly in thanks. The Khajiit pat her neck, giving it a rub before reaching for his tankard, the sweetness of honey blending with the whole flavor of what he was suspecting was pumpkin, full of spices pouring over his tongue.