vvardenfellcat

brothersofthedominion:

Many students have lost their lives down in this place; Many have bitten off far more than they could chew in the ways of Magick. This cold grave was their place of study for the forbidden arts.
… And here this bumbling justiciar was struggling just to get the damned trap door open.

 Icarus cursed and grumbled in Altmeris as he pulled relentlessly at the handle. Would it not look so damned suspicious and catch everyones attention, Aldaril would’ve been the perfect asset to this situation. Alas, that was never the case. Probably would’ve never heard the end of it from Aldaril anyways. ‘Haha okay you sodding weenie, I see you need the big strong mer to help you out.’  The imaginary mocking tone of his older brother danced through his head as he gave a good pull on the door handle.

An eager grin curled onto his face when he began to hear something giving in. He dug his feet into the snow, giving one more yank with everything he had. That grin immediately faded the second he heard ice crack from under him and the door immediately flew open, smacking the high elf onto the ground. He grumbled, laying there on the cold cobble stones.

“Could’ve just melted that ice, I suppose.”

No time to be griping about that, he needed to get in there before he caught anyones attention. The sun was setting, and everyone would be dismissed from their classes shortly. The justiciar brushed himself off, making one more scan in case someone saw him, and immediately slid down the ladder.

Sweet Mother of Magnus it’s cold down here!

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To master Alteration, first accept that reality is a falsehood. There is no such thing. Our reality is a perception of greater forces impressed upon us for their amusement. Some say that these forces are the gods, other that they are something beyond the gods.

J’hasi sneezed, shivering a little afterwards before turning the page, trying to get at least some of his homework done before his monthly shift. He’d come in too early, but that was alright. No one saw him go into the Midden, and more importantly, he had time and then some to get himself strapped to something sturdy enough to take what his wolf form could dish out, while also being deep enough in its mazelike passages to confuse it if it even managed to get loose.

Unfortunately for him, it was also freezing down here, and the fact that he had stripped too early because he honestly couldn’t tell the time without being able to see the sky outside hadn’t helped in the slightest.

The Khajiit was almost relieved when he felt that sharp pain spike deep in his chest, his heart pounding in his ears, inhuman, bestial noises starting to escape his jaws, shoving the book aside to his pack before his hands could clench and send his claws tearing into the delicate parchment, or into the cover itself. Urag would kill him for that. He whimpered, falling to his hands and knees, his spine arching, vertebrae rippling as they grew larger, thicker, muscle swelling and winding around his shifting bones, writhing like coiled snakes under his pelt.

He felt a little better about riding out the full moon down here. No one came down to the Midden, from what his nose could tell him, and it was deep underground where he was, so no curious passersby investigating howling from beneath and wandering into a deathtrap, as was sometimes the case when using caves for this sort of thing.

He just hoped that the venison wasn’t too frozen for his wolf, gasping out in pain as cracks and snaps made their way up his hips, spine, spidering over his ribs, a short yelp of pain torn from him when his jaw grew, shooting out long before his skull adjusted for it, bone grinding painfully tight against bone…

When the wash of wolf and rage pulled him under, drowning him, he felt a little more at ease than usual. The one perk of this place…safer full moons until he found that damn cure.

—

As the last of the changes took over the once-Khajiiti form, the beast shook itself, growling deeply, frustrated at the damn straps over its body, its limbs… Stale air wafting with hardly a breeze…

There was food here.

It sniffed, snorting in distaste at the source of it. Cold. Long dead. Also not as sweet as other prey-flesh. It bit into a piece, spitting it back out immediately after. Worse. Frozen. Hard. It growled sharply, shaking itself as it tried to bolt for the door, snarling when it was yanked back by the straps. It paced, hungry, impatient…

Food.

The ‘wolf’s head shot up, sniffing intently. There was fresh meat in these caves. It licked its chops, salivating before it tugged again on the straps, then pulled, straining against them… The beast turned to look at where it had been tied to this time, then following it up…

Oh.

The monstrous wolf panted excitedly, turning around tightly to get a strap in its jaws, chewing at the worn hide, its legs trembling with excitement of the hunt, fresh prey, still living, breathing…but not for long…

When the leather strap snapped between its teeth, a ferocious, exultant howl echoed hauntingly through the halls of the Midden…the hunt was on.