vvardenfellcat

Under Saarthal – Icarus/J’hasi

brothersofthedominion:

Icarus jerked backwards when he felt what felt like metallic thread yank from behind his neck. Whatever it was, it snapped after an uncomfortable amount of pressure against his throat.“What in th-” The justiciar exclaimed as he spun around to see–

The Khajiit.

And an amulet in its hands.

Specifically his calian that was supposedly from his father.

The Altmers pupils shrunk to a pinprick as he slowly approached the thieving bastard, ripping the amulets from its paws.

The chain was broken.

The son of a bitch broke the godsdamned chain.

Icarus went incredibly quiet for a moment, observing the damage. Seconds later, his hate-ridden eyes zeroed in on the Khajiit.

“I do believe I made my self very clear as to what would happen to you should you try and pickpocket me again…” The justiciar seethed through a display of teeth. One hand had a tight clutch on the charm, the other had flames roaring from his palms.

“I’m giving you three seconds to start running, cat.”

J’hasi looked up, startled by the sudden grab, the tone, the flames and the-

Oh, fuck.

The Khajiit booked it, hearing roaring fireballs launched at him shortly after, striking the snow as he barely dodged, one grazing his scarf and setting it ablaze, tumbling in a roll to put it out. The snowstorm was picking up, so maybe it would help him lose the whelp, but he wasn’t counting on it. As it was he was barely keeping on top of the deeper drifts, gasping in pain and for breath as he scrambled over snow and rock, cursing that thrice-damned draugr and it’s fucking icicles.

He yelped when he landed in a deeper drift, buried before scrambling out best he could, further and further off the relatively shallow snows of the path.

In The Icy Cold

sneaktheif:

Peyt’s ears twitched but she accepted J’hasi’s hand without hesitation, after making sure she hadn’t gotten tomato juice on it. Tilma always chided her for getting it everywhere.

“I’m Lokpeytzii, or just Peyt,” she answered him after she’d swallowed her bite of tomato. “I’ve never been up here so I’d never seen snow like this before. Just usually only get wet flurries on the plains some mornings or evenings and this is way more intense! It’s like really solid and permanant and it shimmers and there’s these big blue blocks of glacier popping up through them and I wonder what Vilkas has in his books about this because I’m super super interested in all this stuff right now it’s just so intersting and pretty and sparkly.”

She took a deep breath after all of that and then took an even bigger bite of her tomato. She began tapping her feet softly, wanting to get out there as fast as she could. The faster she ate her tomato, she reasoned, the faster she could play in the snow, so she took another big bite before she’d even finish chewing the first.

Okay, this was definitely the first werewolf he’d met that was such a chatterbox. Seemed friendly enough, though. He wondered if they even knew they were a werewolf. The darker Khajiit smiled once he understood what was said, having to take a moment to catch up.

“Nice to meet you, Peyt. And that’s a really good way to describe Winterhold, least ‘round the coast. Most people here would probably call it ‘four billion tons of white bullshit’.” Dagur snorted out a laugh, a poorly-disguised grin on his face before he resumed cleaning tankards. J’hasi tipped back the rest of his mead, licking his lips after emptying the bottle.

“It’s actually very pretty in the early mornings, once you get used to the feeling of freezing your tail off. The sunrise sometimes comes up pink and tints all the snow with this mix of pink and blue with white sparkles on the snowy parts. On clear days the mountains look really neat with the dark grey rock mixed in there.” He left out the part about the statue of Azura. He hated seeing that every time he left College grounds.

Chrysalism: The amniotic tranquility of being indoors during a thunderstorm.

Rain.

The Khajiit barely nodded, okay, that was the sound of rain. What must’ve roused him awake enough to register this struck again, a cold wet drop landing right on his nose, startling him enough for him to shoot to his knees in alarm, then sneezing, shaking his head and shivering.

Oh. Rain. It was raining, which meant this spot wouldn’t be dry much longer. He rubbed the back of his hand over his eyes, groping blindly for a bucket, the old worn wood dampening with the drops that dripped from above, landing with dull, hollow taps. J’hasi watched quietly, still a little groggy from the unexpected wakeup call.

He needed to fix the roof. Somehow. While this shack was a little better than his previous ‘home’ (a scrape of dirt under someone else’s house), it still needed some improvement. The Khajiit had been so focused on digging out an escape tunnel that he’d neglected the roof. And the door. And…everything.

He cursed with another jolt of alarm, grabbing his cloak and tossing it over his pile of books, slipping underneath as well, holding it up enough to light a candle, looking over the tomes.

Oh. Okay. No water damage. J’hasi breathed a sigh of relief, pulling one off a stack and cracking it open. One of his favorites, actually, the cover long worn and the pages having that well-used feel to them as he turned them. With the rain drumming on the roof, the drips landing on his cloak, into the bucket, the warmth of the single candle lighting up the room just enough to read his story quietly…

It was a brief moment of peace in this hard time of his life.

💀

Of course the roads around Riften had to be just as bad as the city.

The arrow had come as a surprise, burying itself deeply into his shoulder and knocking him off Ghost’s back with a yelp. The mare snorted and shifted uneasily as he hissed, rolling onto his side, pain radiating not only from his shoulder but now his head too from the landing. He heard the creak of a bow again in the trees.

“Go!” he snapped, the horse bolting ahead, towards Riften. He pushed himself up with his good arm, ears flicked back at the Imperial that was rushing towards him, a Nord further back by the trees, nocking another arrow. J’hasi huffed, backing up as he pulled out his dagger from its sheathe at his back, flipping it in his hand into a reverse grip, bringing it in front of him as he watched the Imperial grin, their shortsword likely to cause him problems if he wasn’t quick enough. He swayed a little, tail left to drag a bit in the dirt before he stopped, the bandit closer to him stopping a little too abruptly and leaving them a little off-balance.

He struck, punching them in the nose first, dropping back a little too late when a curse and a swipe of the blade left a burning line of pain over his cheek. Again, this time a fist burying itself into the Imperial’s gut, doubling them over as they gasped, airless. A knee brought up to slam into their face, blood gushing from their already-broken nose before he grabbed them from behind in a headlock, dagger at their throat while his other hand grabbed their sword-arm wrist, claws sinking into soft skin and tendon until they let go, dropping their weapon into the dirt.

“Don’t make me cut your throat. Leave me be and you’ll live.” The Imperial huffed, struggling in his grip. The Nord nocked another arrow and aimed.

“We’ll leave when you give us all you got, cat.” J’hasi hissed, then let go and dropped back when the arrow was released, the fletching brushing his hood before he drove his dagger into the Imperial’s kidney, twisting and pulling back again at the scream. He darted out from behind them, rushing the Nord, skidding across leaf litter to dodge another arrow before he slammed the butt of his palm up into their jaw, knocking their head back, leaving their throat exposed.

J’hasi sheathed his blade up and under their ribcage instead, hands scrabbling against his shoulders, a grip fastening around his neck before they weakened, coughing up blood and wheezing.

The Khajiit huffed, drawing back from the bandit as they fell to the ground, wincing at the cut over his cheek, hand gripping at his shoulder. He sighed, then froze when he smelled-

“B-Brielle! U-um…” J’hasi swallowed, ears pulling back, eyes wide with a bit of panic, flicking between the Breton and the dead Nord at his feet.

“I-I…um. I-I can explain…”

[🍻 (From peyt ;) )]

Accepting drinks from new acquaintances, especially ones who just so happened to be werewolves wasn’t something he typically did, but…he was short on gold. And it didn’t smell off. Maybe it was a token of goodwill, or maybe they were new enough to the whole werewolf thing that they couldn’t smell his own wolf blood.

He offered a smile, one with just a hint of teeth before he accepted the tankard.

“Thanks. Definitely could use it after today.” J’hasi downed the whole thing in one go, licking the foam from his lips and whiskers afterwards.

In The Icy Cold

sneaktheif:

“Yeah,” Peyt sighed, “I’ll never understand why you hire a Companion only to change your mind like that. Only happened to me a few times, but I mean I could be home hunting or something.” She sat on the nearby stool with a huff, pulling a tomato out of her pack and taking a bite. She twisted her tail around one of the legs and swung her feet slightly. Braena sat next to her, keeping her eyes on the stranger, her ears still moving to listen.

“At least I saw snow,” Peyt said cheerfully, “I think I might go roll in it before I start back home.” She took another bite of the tomato and slid her feet back and forth on the rungs. Despite getting her tongue stuck, she was still filled with curiosity. She figured she could indulge that for a little bit before she rode back to Whiterun.

He popped the cork out of his first mead and took a long drink before setting it down, tail slowly curling around his stool.

“Well, if you wanted snow, you came to the right place. Winterhold is full of the stuff. Shame they can’t export it.” J’hasi sniffed, ears cocking. Did he really need a bath that b-?

Oh.

He watched the stranger munch on their tomato for a moment. Companion, huh? He didn’t expect the ‘honorable’ warrriors of Skyrim to have a werewolf in their ranks. Maybe it would be worth paying them a visit sometime… The darker Khajiit took another drink of his mead before offering his hand for a shake.

“M’name’s J’hasi. Seems a little rude to have not introduced myself before, but uh… I s’pose that waiting until you were free to talk would be more polite.”

For every 🍻 I get, my muse will take a shot/have a drink

❛ I’m not sure I deserved that. ❜

J’hasi grabbed Ghost’s mane, hushing her before stroking down her neck.

“Walking behind a horse isn’t the brightest idea. You spooked her.” Ghost tossed her head, snorting before shifting on her hooves, tail swishing.

In The Icy Cold

sneaktheif:

Braena growled soft and low – a warning – as the stranger touched Peyt. Unable to speak she used her free hand to give the signal for the dog to lay down. Braena did so, letting out a huff at what she felt was her mistress’s bad decision.

Relief flooded through Peyt as her tongue was freed, and she brought her hands up to it, afraid to touch it, but wanting to know it was unharmed. She comically tried to look over her nose to see it for a moment, before sparking a small healing spell in her hands. She swallowed experimentally, then more confidently, and sighed.

“Thank you,” she addressed the other khajiit, “I’ve obviously never seen snow before. I was just trying to see what the falling pieces tasted like, but I’ll keep that in mind.” She twitched her ears and her whiskers and looked around the inn, still not seeing or hearing anyone else other than the innkeep and the passed out patron. "I really do appreciate you helping me, but if you’ll excuse me, I’m supposed to be meeting someone,“ she gave the other khajiit a smile and then stood up. She made her way to the bar, Braena trotting at her heels, after giving a glance to the other khajiit.

“Excuse me,” she said, “I’m a Companion from Whiterun and I’m supposed to meet a client here to escort him to Iverstead. Has anyone been in here recently waiting for me?”

“Yes,” Dagur replied, “a man was in here earlier and said to tell you if you showed up that he changed his mind and wouldn’t be needing your services.”

“Thanks,” Peyt muttered before turning away to look at her dog. Now what were they supposed to do? She came all the way up here and got her tongue stuck for nothing. Braena wagged her tail once and panted a small grin, looking up at Peyt.

J’hasi wrung out his scarf alongside the fire, shaking it out so it could start drying, only halfway paying mind to the conversation. After all, wasn’t his business. Though the disappointed tone in his new acquaintance’s voice made his ears prick, looking at the duo at the bar. Unfortunately, he’d had the same thing happen to him, many times while working as a mercenary for hire.

“Client bail on you?” he asked, draping the damp red cloth over his shoulders to dry off as he headed to the bar, signaling for a drink. He’d originally intended to get smashed, but…he could stay sober enough to make the stranger’s trip something other than a total waste if they were of a mind.

Under Saarthal – Icarus/J’hasi

brothersofthedominion:

Icarus immediately regretted going back outside.

The blistering winds bit his cheeks and the snow nearly went up to his knees. The mile and a half trip back to Winterhold seemed like it was going to last for an eternity. “Godsdammit,” Icarus snarled to him, “Whenever I said ‘I miss the sea breeze at home,’ this is the exact opposite of what I meant.” It was much windier than it was this morning, gods know, there was probably a blizzard on the way. Icarus glared back at the khajiit slowly trailing behind him. “Move it cat!” The justiciar snapped, “I don’t plan on us both dying out here from hypothermia because you’re fucking around back there.”

He hated this province.

He hated its run down cities. He hated the half-witted lesser races running all over the place. He hated the Stormcloak buffoons who pretty much dragged him into this icy shithole.
He just hated this province so godsdamned much.

Speaking of lesser races, he made a made another glare back at the Khajiit; had to make sure the furry bastard didn’t try anything funny.

He was losing too much blood.

The icicle had mostly melted out of his wound, leaving it open and bleeding despite the pressure he was putting on it. The Khajiit was going to wait longer for the whelp to get tired before he made his move, but as it was his hands were shaking, and it would only get worse. J’hasi picked up the pace a little, shooting a glare right back at the Altmer, acting annoyed but casual, conserving his strength. He needed to get that amulet away from him, it was too much of a risk with him being Thalmor and himself an on-the-run Blade. Who knows what that thing could do to the whelp’s magicka.

So…obviously…carefully pickpocketing it from him was the plan.

Barely a brush against the collar of those robes, something that could easily be explained by the rough wind snatching at their clothes, and…the Khajiit tripped a little, some rock under the snow or something, and he felt something pop against his fingers, a silver chain pooling in his hand, and…

Wait…this wasn’t the amulet. It was a round bit of quartz with a mess of intricate curls of silver around the outside with some glass and sapphire set in. Nothing like the amulet he remembered. J’hasi stared at it, perplexed and confused.