>:3c – vvardenfellcat

Secrets Down Under- Icarus/J’hasi

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!

Keep reading

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.

❛ Who are you? ❜

The Khajiit cocked a brow, looking towards the source of the question rather than the vampire he’d been watching for the past few minutes. He didn’t move from his spot, leaning against a wall, arms folded, tail curled close to himself as he answered.

“A traveler. No one of consequence.” he muttered, then looked back towards the market, only to internally curse, having lost the Dunmer in the short span he’d looked away.

First Impressions – Koussikka/J’hasi

koussikka:

”Hm, is that so.” She doesn’t sound too convinced but drops the subject, falling silent for a moment as she finishes healing the dunmer’s wrist.

Koussikka has been following the exchange between Colette and J’hasi with poorly covered curiosity. It’s not nice to nosey into other people’s business, he knows, and it takes all his willpower to not to ask about the burns. With a not-so-stealthy side glance he’s trying to sneak a look at J’hasi’s hands when he gets interrupted by the restoration scholar. ”How’s it feel?”

”Ah-” attention back at the now healed injury he flexes fingers, ” -as good as new. Thank you, sera Marence.”

”Good.” There’s pride in her voice, not even expecting a differing answer when her skills were in question. Turning to her desk she addresses both of them over her shoulder. ”If that was all, I have other duties to attend to.”

”Of course, sera” Taking clue Koussikka starts to heads out of her room and lightly pats J’hasi’s arm on the way to gesture him to follow in tow. At the door he calls back to her. ”Good day and thank you again.”

The Khajiit’s ears prick at the pat on his arm, following the mer at their gesture before Colette could change her mind and find something to lecture him on about of the incident that brought them there in the first place. She seemed distracted with something on her desk already, which was good. J’hasi’s tail curled behind him as he kept pace, both feeling good that Koussikka’s arm was mended, as well as burning curiosity about the spell used to hasten its recovery.

“That was quick. Is that how long magic takes to heal normally?” he asked, the tip of his tail ticking back and forth, his fingers curling into his sleeves to grip the hems and prevent them from twitching. He wanted to look over the Dunmer’s wrist, figure out why it seemed so easy and quick for them to be healed, but for the same healer to be so ineffective on himself.

brothersofthedominion:

dooble from school based on a discussion between and @vvardenfellcat had about Jhasi and Icarus going back and forth on a prank war and Icarus’ absolute detest of facial hair on his personhood.

4, 10, 13

4: How do you get into your OC’s mindset to write for them? How do you find the muse for them?

I rarely lose him, but it’s more of ‘do I feel confident in writing today?’ sort of thing. If I’m not in the mood for him, I’m not in the mood. If I’m not in the mindset usually just listening to his playlist on his blog or looking through old posts or Morrowind art usually brings him back. If all else fails, I’ll play him in-game with whichever one I feel like playing.

—

10: How do they deal with strangers?

He usually avoids talking with them unless he’s in need of directions or help, or if they’re in need of help. He’s very guarded and wary of strangers, moreso if they show characteristics he’s experienced with those who’ve caused him harm or trouble in the past. Overly-friendly strangers that touch him out of the blue he’ll immediately get very firm with them, and it’ll likely result in physical harm if they try anything fishy. Hostile ones he’ll defend himself but usually will try to remove himself from the situation, unless they say or do something that sets him off.

Usually he’s pretty chill, just not fond of sticking around longer than necessary unless they pique his interest.

—

13: Do they have any favourite foods? Would they eat it all the time if they had the chance? What do they hate to eat?

Favorite food of all time is hard to pick, but his favorite meal is nix-hound with scrib jerky (letting the juices of the nix-hound meat soak into the jerky), with ash yams and comberry sauce, usually with saltrice bread (or other bread if that’s not available) and sujamma. He’s also super fond of a silvery fish native to Black Marsh that to this day he still doesn’t know the name of. He would eat it a lot more often if he could, but not every day. He likes to mix things up if he can.

He hates red cabbage. He will not eat it. Ever.

“Look on the bright side: you’ve still got me!” ((:3c))

The Khajiit slowly turned from glaring at the city gates to staring at the mer, ears flattened.

“I wasn’ finished with m’drink…” he muttered grumpily.

[ Flash Forward ]

The Khajiit mumbled a string of quiet curses, the Dunmeris slurred and adequately reflecting his displeasure at being conscious in such a state. He lifted his hand to rub at his face, wincing at a scrape of metal against metal, ears pressed back in a futile attempt to keep out the noise. It didn’t keep out the next one, either.

“You’re awake.” J’hasi’s eyes snapped open, ears trained on the source, cursing the awful hangover pounding in his skull as he tried to scramble further away, but only wobbled and fell over. The Altmer from last night was there, and gods damn it all, he should’ve fucking known.

It had been a Thalmor trap.

[ 💤 reverse ]

At first he thought Brielle was just cold or wanted to lean on him for a bit, but when he glanced at her to check and see if something was wrong, his fur puffed a little when he realized that she was fast asleep. J’hasi fidgeted, unsure what to do at first before leaning over a bit to dig for his blanket in his pack and draped it over her, allowing her to continue resting on his shoulder.

His tail flicked as he got used to it, even comfortable as he continued reading silently, a small smile on his face. He only really needed one hand to turn pages anyway.

☤ [Trond has received a small cut from a criminal resisting arrest and demands nursing.]

The Khajiit’s brow rose, expression set in a nonverbal ‘really?’ before huffing out a sigh and digging around in his pack. He swiped a touch of healing salve on a scrap of cloth before tying it around the guardsman’s hand, slapping the site of the cut in a ‘welp, here you go’ sort of fashion before holding out his palm, crooking his fingers at him.

“Twenty septims. Pay up, lawman.”

aamos replied to your post “Heart’s Day! ☺”

Too startled (and a bit scared), Aamos can’t but stand there as the furry stranger latches onto him. It’s… not entirely unpleasant but the Dunmer has no idea what to do. He blushes slightly at the slurred words anyway. ((HAHA AHGDHS J’HASIIIIII))

J’hasi hummed, briefly rubbing the stranger’s cheek with his own before pulling back far enough to see the mer’s expression. He hiccuped before his head cocked a little to the side.

“Yyyyyer shorta quiet.” he mumbled drunkenly before his ears pricked and his eyes widened a little. The Khajiit leaned forward, almost going crosseyed as he stopped with his nose just barely in front of the mer’s own, unfortunately giving them more than a good whiff of the spirits on his breath.

“I didn’ shhhcare ya, did I?” he said in a loud whisper, as if he was trying to keep the whole forest from hearing him while being completely unaware that his volume was only a touch quieter than his muttering.