[Holy fuck I have a tolerance for booze, unfortunately I’m also forgetful apparently bc I forgot a thing at the barcade. Sober atm I think? Blind af bc I have no idea where my glasses are atm, I know a friend mentioned i broke them again when I got home so that’s my priority atm as well as fluids.
HAPPY NEW YEARS I HAD FUN N I’M COLD ATM BUT GOOD TIMES YE]
[Also J’hasi poking his nose around Azura’s shrine and gets a chat about Azura and fate that leaves him grumpy af again.]
[I wish I knew how I took screencaps like this because goddamn J’hasi looks good in em.]
boarchasers:
‘Off-duty? Ha!’
Trond assumed his most pained expression, marred somewhat by the need to back off a few more steps when Ghost leaned towards J’hasi’s tankard. Once certain she was not getting any closer, he shook his head and sighed heavily enough
‘No overtime, thank the Divines, but my wife’s running a stall, so I’ll be guarding that next.’ He paused, cupping his hands around his own tankard thoughtfully. ‘It is a bakery stall, mind. Can’t say I object too much to guarding pastries. Can’t say it’s a terrible chore. Never know when those pastries might need a bit of extra, one-on-one guarding.’
The Khajiit grinned, Ghost resting her chin on top of his head and snorting out a puff of air.
“May have to test your guardsman skills, then. If she’s who I think she is, then I’ll have to stop by and get a bite. She’s the baker in Whiterun, right?” He wasn’t sure if he was mistaken, but it was still possible. Especially with how much he’d been drinking since the festival began.
boarchasers replied to your post : “I haven’t slept in days.”
‘Pfft. Sleep is for the weak. Not for Trond the–’ there was a pause from behind the helmet as Trond, watching J’hasi, definitely did not try and stifle a wide yawn of his own ’–Mighty.’
The Khajiit pulled up his scarf to hide another yawn, knowing that it would just go back and forth, his eyes closing and feeling tears gather at the corners of them before he felt it was safe to pull away from his scarf, lest the yawn continue to pass between them… Only to shove his face back into his scarf, a blessed warmth thawing out his chilled nose. His whiskers twitched where they were pressed against his cheeks.
“Mind that you don’t spar with blades. Might lose a finger. Or, y’know… Actually go on shift. I’d like to come back to Whiterun with it not burnt to the ground.”
The side of the Khajiit’s mouth stretched into a half-frown.
“I’ve never had a kid, and Hist forbid if I ever tried to be a parent to one. Afflictions aside, I live a very risky lifestyle, and that’s not likely to change anytime soon, unless the Thalmor decide to leave me alone. Which is unlikely.” He rubbed his face, pressing his fingertips into his closed eyes until he saw stars.
“A good parent protects their kids without smothering them, and prepares them for the world they’re going to face. A good parent also shows them love and care because gods know there isn’t a lot of that out there.” He peeked between his fingers with a slight scowl.
“Does that answer your question?”
J’hasi’s jaw tightened, lips pressed together when he swallowed. Not a topic he wanted to talk about, clearly, but… His eyes flicked to the ground.
“I’ve been in combat before, skirmishes, ambushes, small-scale fighting like that. Fought hordes of monsters, either by myself or with no more than two or three others alongside me. But…it didn’t prepare me for the kind of war provinces inflict on each other.” He took a slow breath, rubbing over his jaw.
“I guess I was involved in the Accession War. I mostly was leading refugees out of Vvardenfell, and later on out of Morrowind entirely when there were more mouths to feed and wounds to tend that could be handled on the mainland in the wake of the Red Year. I saw Argonians and Dunmer fighting each other, killing each other, on a scale I hadn’t…I hadn’t seen since I was a hatchling. And when those I called my people tried to attack the groups I was leading out… Well…I don’t look a damn thing like them, how would they know?” The Khajiit’s ears flicked back.
“I’d try to reason with them. Didn’t always work, even though I spoke their tongue just as well as they could. Except my damned…tongue doesn’t work well with some of the sounds. Still doesn’t. I would do my damnedest and…sometimes blood had to be spilled. There was no other way.” He scoffed.
“And then the Great War…that was hell. I’ve…I’ve never been in anything like it, except maybe the Battle of Bruma. But the Battle of Bruma, that was…that was daedra. Not people. And not nearly as many. Or as many battles. Over and over again. Granted the Blades tried to avoid open conflict, but sometimes we didn’t have a choice. It was bloody…and messy, and it…” He stopped, his breath hitching, closing his eyes for a few moments, not breathing until it finally came out, slow and measured.
“…it…it was awful. I wish I could forget it. All of it. But I can’t. And I still have nightmares about it. The same nightmares I have of the Sixth House, of the Oblivion Crisis, the Red Year… Every…awful fucking thing that…that I’ve gone through.” His mouth snapped shut again, shivering in silence for a few more moments before he shook his head, eyes shut.
“No. I’m…I’m not talking about it anymore.”
The Khajiit sighed through his nose, brows furrowing in frustration.
“I can’t. At least, I don’t look it. I just feel more…tired than I did 200 years ago. I still look like I did then, but…I’ve been walking around for more than ten times longer. I’m not sure if I’m just going to get more tired until I drop, or if I’ll be lucky enough to get what I need to do done and can have some bastard with a blade run me through.” J’hasi rubbed his jaw with another sigh.
“I’m more scared of living forever than getting old. Maarzi aged gracefully according to Riheh, and we had similar lifestyles. Well, I drink too damn much, but…whatever. Growing old doesn’t seem that bad. Unless you’re Markus and lose all your hair and gripe about the younger generations. Cranky old bastard, he is.” The Khajiit shrugged.
“Elders are just elders I guess. In my tribe, they were sources of wisdom and experience, and you would visit them and ask questions if you had them, and you would meet with them before you left for your journey outside the Marsh for advice about the world outside. Outside the Marsh, it seems different. Some elders are respected, while others are treated akin to children. It’s strange.” He rubbed the back of his neck.
“I’ve treated elders much the same as anyone else, though my list of ‘elders’ is growing shorter by the year. Unless they’re mer or a mage, I’m probably older than them. But most of the time, they don’t know that.”
vvardenfellcat 