vvardenfellcat

In The Icy Cold

sneaktheif:

Peyt’s ears pulled back as the stranger khajiit approached her. She hadn’t seen them before; she knew every member of the caravans and also knew they didn’t really come up here. Not that she could blame them, as Ri’Saad had told her tales of the warm sands of Elsweyr and this cold landscape was as far from that as she could imagine. She was starting to dislike the cold…

The stranger’s words finally sunk in and she nodded, the movement bringing more tears to her eyes as it pulled on her tongue and brought more pain. She settled for trying to make a noise that sounded like okay. She followed them into the inn with Braena at her heels, and did as was suggested, and sat by the fire. Braena sat next to her, alert and watchful. She glanced around, thankful that the only person in there besides the barkeep seemed to be passed out.

That brought another thing to mind, where was her client? Had she come all the way up here for nothing? She wasn’t going to get any answers with her tongue stuck, and she shifted her feet as she waited, as much from the pain in her tongue as from her inability to sit still.

J’hasi gave the stranger what he hoped was a comforting smile before he went up to Dagur.

“Tankard please. Empty.” The Nord nodded, pushing one across the bar.

“There’s some warm water on the fire. Shouldn’t be too hot now.” The Khajiit smiled and thanked him before heading towards the pot, finding the water a little hot, but as he scooped some out with the tankard, it started towards a reasonable temperature. He set the tankard down, pulling off his scarf to lay across the stranger’s lap. J’hasi tested the water again before gently holding their forearm just below the wrist, slowly pouring the water over their bracer, around their tongue. It took a little bit to loosen, but once it thawed enough to free the poor Khajiit’s tongue he smiled, setting the tankard aside and using his now-damp scarf to dry off the metal.

“There. You can have the same problem with ice too, so don’t lick anything you can’t easily fit in your mouth, okay?”

⌆ for a story about their family/home life

“<Jeer-rah! Jeeeeeeeer-rah!>” The Argonian’s fans spread, then grinned at the blur of black fur before they were tackled into the leaf litter. Jeer wrestled with Marsh, a mess of tails and limbs and giggles, rolling out into the dirt before Jeer finally pinned their friend down with a huff.

“<Got you!>” Marsh giggled before wriggling free and wrapping themself around the Saxhleel.

“<I got you!>” Sees stopped next to the two combatants, observing for a moment.

“<Marsh, Jeer, not in the middle of the path, okay?>”

“<O–KAAAAY!>” Marsh sang, wiggling before dropping back to the ground, tail up.

“<Sees, Sees, are we goin’ t’ the grove?>” The elder smiled, a bare hint pressing their lower lids closed.

“<Yes, little one. Jeer, you’re welcome to come with as well.>” Jeer grinned, getting up and brushing dirt off of their scales before Marsh scrambled onto their back with a huge grin on their face.

“<Jeer, Jeer, come wiff! Come wiff us!>” Jeer smiled, looping their arms to hold Marsh’s legs and lifting their tail to ease the strain of carrying the smaller, dirt-covered hatchling.

“<Yeah! Fireflies!>”

◆

3E 427, Morrowind, Vvardenfell District

Found a journal in a cave today, and Jiub always said that writing down your thoughts can help, so I guess I can start with this.

Imperials suck.

~~Dunmer suck.~~ Most Dunmer suck.

Guards suck.

And I’m going to run away as soon as I get rid of this stupid package. The end.

◇ diamond symbol

4E 201, Skyrim, Winterhold College

Finally found a lead on that amulet I got from Saarthal. Nothing on the one that the Thalmor whelp had yet, but from what I remember of it, it was of similar make and style.

The writ of sealing on the draugr’s body got me a name, Jyrik, and after combing through dozens of history books I finally found something that might be related. The writ mentioned being ‘forgotten forever’, ‘condemned by your crimes against realm and lord’, which considering the magnitude of murdering a powerful wizard who was valued for his counsel and aid by kings and jarls may be a clue.

Heading out tomorrow for Solitude. While the risk of being around a Thalmor hotspot isn’t something I jump at the chance for, there’s no real harm in taking a look. Urag wants a book from around that area anyways.

❛ It’s the honest ones you want to watch out for, because you can never predict when they’re going to do something incredibly.. stupid. ❜

The Khajiit hiccupped, reeking of mead and singed fur.

“I fffffffind that th’ onesh y’gotta look out fer are the friendly onesh… Y’know wha’ I mean? Th’ onesh that’re shooper helpful then…” J’hasi’s eyes widened when they finally focused on the stranger, suddenly blurting out a curse in Dunmeris before taking a swing, going right through the ghost and striking the tree behind them. He dropped to the ground, a slurred mess of curses as he nursed his hand, fairly certain that something was broken.

@therunawayscamp

Maybe it was worth finding out how to fish with those lined sticks.

The Khajiit stared at the frigid waters, the tips of his fingers rapidly going numb from their brief brush at the surface, tail flicking behind him as he debated on trying to find a decent bow for hunting instead. The snow was deep and powdery, though, so while tracking would be easy, hunting without exposing his…condition would be a problem. It was far too open in Dawnstar for his taste, and he could see plenty of tasty fish right here.

He huffed, glaring at the fish darting around so carefree in icy waters, his tail swishing sharply in irritation.

azurasblacksheep:

@vvardenfellcat

Gilmyn gave a great yawn, jaw cracking as he stretched his arms above his head. Abandoned caves were the absolute worst place to nap – for one, the floors were rarely if ever comfortable, and for two, sometimes the term ‘abandoned’ was up for debate. Still, there were no good inns lying between Eastmarch and Winterhold. (And even if there was, he wouldn’t be able to afford one. Since he’d paid for that repair to his enchanting table, his pockets were lighter than air.)

The good news was that the godsforsaken little city of Winterhold was very close by. Tugging his ridiculous fur cloak around himself, the Dunmer set off towards the cluster of rundown wooden buildings in the distance. He’d managed to get into contact with someone at the College selling cheap enchanting materials, and could only pray to Azura that this trip up north was worth the trek and potential frostbite.

Gilmyn entered the Frozen Hearth, shaking off his cloak and earning himself a long-suffering glare from the barkeep. “Don’t mind me,” he grumbled as he sat down at a nearby table to wait for the mysterious merchant.

The Khajiit shivered at the rush of cold darting up his robes from someone entering the inn, ears pricking as he roused from his nap on…ah damn, he’d drooled over his textbook again… He sniffed drowsily, finding his half-bottle of mead and taking a drink, tipping it back…back… He set it down, empty, rubbing his face for a good few moments, mumbling a handful of Dunmeri curses at his headache. He’d been studying, hadn’t he?

“Need another, or are you heading back?” Dagur asked. J’hasi took a deep breath, then let it out in a hiss.

“Yeah…’nother.” May as well. He wasn’t understanding the text anyway and he really wasn’t looking forward to heading back to the College just yet.

anvindrfarseer:

@vvardenfellcat

Sun’s Height’s nights in
Hjaalmarch were short and restless, the air alive and bustling with swarms of mosquitoes.
He burned copious incense to keep them out, and it worked. Like a charm. Only
trouble was the thick smoke didn’t make his shack any less hot or stuffy. The
sun had set hours ago and yet he couldn’t lift a finger without breaking a
sweat. Couldn’t sleep, either.

He stepped out on the
little ramshackle pier underneath the thatched overhang, bare-footed,
bare-chested and with his hair tied up out of his neck. Damn this godsforsaken
heat. Thank Kyne it was only a couple of days up to a week or two every year.
There was a pleasant breeze coming across the water, though. He sat himself down
on the edge, feet dangling over the water surface. He focused on the gentle
babble, rippling along the shore and around the pier’s supports. He closed
his eyes, lulled into peaceful, mindless being. That was until a sudden noise broke the rhythm. It sounded like a presence. Not an
animal. His eyes snapped open and he got up, taking a fishing spear off the
wall of his shack.

“Who’s there?”

It was surprising just how warm Skyrim summers could get. He almost felt like he was back home, bugs and all, though lacking in trees and humidity. It was warm enough to shed most of his clothes and leave them with Ghost, his scarf wrapped around his face to keep mosquitos from biting at his nose, and his pantlegs rolled up to his knees. Though by now it seemed a wasted gesture, as they were currently soaked along with the rest of him as the Khajiit enjoyed the opportunity to swim without risking hypothermia. He’d been sent to get a book from around here, but Urag could wait a little longer. Besides, it had been ages since he could swim safely, at least since crossing Cyrodiil. And he was hungry, a little fishing wouldn’t hurt.

When he spotted a fish, J’hasi shifted from lazily swimming at the surface, rippling the surface and the moonlight reflected off it, to floating, still, breathing slow and smooth under the damp cloth of his scarf. He dipped his face under the surface to better gauge the distance, focus solely on the flash of scales in the deep. The Khajiit’s tail swished slowly at the surface to keep him in position, eyes fixed on the fish swimming lazily in brackish waters below and ahead of him. He inhaled deeply, shifting his grip and lifting his spear up for the strike when an unfamiliar voice startled him. His body jerked in the water and startled the fish, sending it zipping into the deeper waters.

J’hasi darted underwater, throwing his spear after it and chasing it with claws when it missed, but it was too quick for him and he was left to return to the surface with his speartip muddied and shaking water from his ears. He pulled down his scarf to breathe better, ears pricking at the scent of smoke he’d missed in the saltwater-soaked cloth until now, along with sweat and fish and how did he miss an entire shack? He looked up at the Nord on the dock, managing a weak wave, tail swishing under the water.

“Uh…hi. Sorry, was fishing and didn’t see your uh…everything.”

First Impressions – Koussikka/J’hasi

koussikka:

”Maybe you just like sleeping a lot?” Koussikka teases, jabbing J’hasi playfully with his elbow before answering his question. ”That depends, too, whether to accelerate body’s own healing process or fixing it yourself. Kind of. It’s more like a mixture of the two, with differing doses of acceleration and fixing it yourself mixed together.”

”Like, if you have a sprain,” he holds up his just-healed hand, ”you’re most likely using the acceleration more than fixing, but when you have a serious traumatic injury, like,” he pokes himself into stomach by index finger, ”a ruptured organ, you need more fixing to heal it.”

If anything good had come out of his past near death experience with the dragons bite, it would be this topic. While Koussikka wasn’t particularly gifted in restoration he had gotten a good grasp on how it works by observing the magic work on himself. Not fun times, but very educational.

”Though it’s possible to use those healing options in opposite situations with success, it’s encourage to use accelerated healing on injuries that need rest and time, and fixing healing on injuries needing stitches and surgery.”

End his little lecture with a lop-sided smile he shrugs. ”Either way, both methods take their toll on the injured person’s body so I don’t suppose there’s much difference in how tired they make a person. Sleeping is good for healing anyway.”

The Khajiit paid rapt attention, tail up and still as the mer explained, nodding a little when he understood. He frowned, thinking for a moment.

“Can Restoration fix when something’s missing? Like, if someone got a finger bitten off or lost some of their insides? Or would they need to have that piece there to um…sorta like stick them back together?” He wasn’t sure of the limits, but it wouldn’t hurt to ask. He never knew what kind of injuries he could get in the future, or…injuries he might inflict on accident.

Under Saarthal – Icarus/J’hasi

brothersofthedominion:

While those two were absorbed with the giant mystery sphere, Icarus had his attention elsewhere- specifically the burial urns lying about the tomb. For the most part, there wasnt anything special in any of them: a minor magicka potion, a couple of gold pieces here and there (though some gold was better than no gold, yeah?) The justiciar gave an incredibly vocal “Oooh!” as he managed to pull a small gem from one of the urns. Nothing too valuable looking, but had to worth at least something. Tolfdir’s voice stopped him in his tracks.
“Excuse me, Icarus?”
The Altmer, took a deep inhale- Sure, the cat digs through other peoples stuff, no one blinks an eye, but the second he does it to people who are dead and dont need it anymore–

“Yes sir?”
“I’d appreciate if you accompanied J’hasi back to the college, please. It’d be better if you both went in case one of you gets hurt.”
Oh.

Icarus stretched one side of his mouth before replying with “Yes sir.”

The justiciar gave one shuddering glance at the draugr before glaring at the khajiiti student next to him, “Lets move, cat. The sooner we get out of this frozen shithole, the better.”

The Khajiit shot a glare at the Thalmor whelp, tail swishing sharply before he turned away to take a knee next to the fallen draugr. He had a bad feeling in his gut and a prickle in his fur about all this. Leaving Tolfdir here alone, the whelp with that amulet…he tugged his dagger out of its chest with a squelch of congealed…something. That ghost…apparition thing…whatever it was…telling him that he’d set something in motion… It all just felt like he’d stumbled upon something that reeked of trouble.

J’hasi’s fingers brushed something as he wiped his blade clean, startling him a little. He looked down, an amulet and a piece of parchment peeking out from under the draugr’s armor, catching his eye. His back was to the Thalmor brat, so slipping it into his pocket while sheathing his dagger was easy. He’d investigate it later. He tried to tug the sword out of the undead’s chest too, only to gasp and give up at the hot shooting pain in his shoulder. Right. Not trying that again.

The Khajiit got up, spotting a staff on the table nearby, where the draugr had been previously seated. Tolfdir was busy with the orb, thus giving him a perfect opportunity to lock eyes with the Altmer whelp, nonchalantly taking the staff. While it wasn’t his spear, it would be a suitable surrogate until he could get back to the College. He spotted a door behind the orb, heading towards that with a flick of his tail.

If he didn’t have to use the staff, then it could always afford him a few textbooks. Or some replacement robes…