;__; – vvardenfellcat

Oh yeah, he AND Shani have support for the Tribunal questline! I’m glad you’re enjoying him. I love him so much.

[It helps lighten up the mood overall with the main quest bc 90% of the time J’hasi’s plugging his fingers in his ears going ‘LALALALA I CAN’T HEAR YOU’ and the other 10% he’s curled up in a sobbing angst-ball bc he doesn’t want any part of this prophecy bullshit he’s still traumatized from when Foryn Gilnith nearly killed him and he had to kill him first and he’s just a fucking kid when this all starts man no wonder he’s got such an awful drinking problem these days.]

💀

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…”

◆

4E 10, Black Marsh

Shadows is dead. He ambushed us, and tried to kill Jeer. I never thought he’d try to

He tried to kill me. He tried to stab me in the heart, and it only just barely missed. I got so scared, for myself, for Jeer-rah… I panicked, and… The wolf took over. I came to with blood all over me, my mouth full of… Hist forgive me. Jeer said that I was defending myself, that it was fine, but I ate him. I ate his heart, and Hist knows what else. I feel sick. I threw up until there was nothing left to come up when it fully sunk in what I’d done. I don’t understand why Jeer hasn’t left me yet.

They haven’t left me be much since it happened. They helped me get cleaned up, and they took care of burying his body under the roots of a tree after their injury was tended to. Jeer says that Shadows isn’t destined for the Hist, that an outsider like him abandoned the Hist long ago. He’ll go to the Void instead, like all Shadowscales. I don’t know what to feel other than horror that

He tried to kill me. After how long we traveled together, after he said we were brothers. I don’t know what to do, or how to feel. Jeer told me to try and get some sleep, but every time I close my eyes, I can still see his face when he saw me start to shift. I can remember flashes of what happened while I lost control. I’m scared that

[The rest of the entry is scribbled out.]

4, 9, and 11

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

Answered!

—

9: What is your OC like when at work? Are they diligent? Slacker? Do they get along with their co-workers?

Considering his ‘job’ is usually contracts/bounties… Well, he’s very focused on not winding up dead. He generally doesn’t like killing, but usually his targets have hurt/killed innocent people, so… He’ll get the job done right, and he’s pretty efficient at it come Skyrim times. He will not work with another person on a contract, after trying it once and nearly getting ganked by his ‘partner’ once the place was cleared out. The only exceptions to this was Shadows and Maarzi, and they were brothers at the time/after they’d become friends.

When he does work like picking crops, chopping firewood, nice basic work, he’s focused and chill. He works hard and is pretty friendly with whoever he chooses to work with. It’s usually a bartering system when he picks up that sort of work (like, help me fix the roof and I’ll give you a meal and a place to sleep for the night in the barn or smthn), so there’s no resentment.

—

11: Is there a place they go to in order to escape the world, the stresses of life? What’s their favourite place?

Someplace quiet and with a lack of people. Usually deeper sections of forest or wilderness are good places, but while staying in larger cities or in harsher environments he’ll hang out in a quiet alley or something. His favorite places are usually up a tree or somewhere where he can hear water moving, or finding warmish bodies of water to swim in undisturbed. While at the College he’ll stick in his room, sometimes the Arcanaeum, or in emergencies, under the stairways.

⊙ ((ayyyy lmao))

I think you (Icarus) are:

—

I think you (Aldaril) are:

Screaming In His Sleep

She wouldn’t take no for an answer. He had traveled for days and deserved a good rest—why not offer him a chance to save some coin too? The temple may not be as fitting as an inn, but they will not charge him for using a bed for the night.

And she thought everything had been going well, but then the screaming started. As late as it was she was still awake, so she was the one who located the source. What she saw worried her. “J’hasi! Wake up! You’re fine!”

It might have been a bad idea, but she reached out and touched the Khajiit. She hoped it would wake him. “J’hasi, you’re alright!”

He’d yanked his dagger out from under the pillow at the touch, his fur on end and shaking, only freezing when he recognized the voice as Brielle’s, eyes snapping open to see her looking spooked, his throat raw and…oh…

He’d been screaming in his sleep again, hadn’t he?

“S…sorry…sera…” he mumbled, quickly lowering the blade and placing it on the sidetable. His heart was still pounding from the nightmare he couldn’t remember already. He just remembered that terror of something trying to get him, trying to get away from…whatever it was… He felt more tired than when he’d first laid down. J’hasi drew his knees up to his chest, gaze averted in favor of staring at the rumpled blankets, checking to make sure he hadn’t torn any with his claws.

“M’sorry… S…sorry… I-I didn’t wake anyone, did I?” he asked, ears lowered in shame.

First Round – Icarus/Aldaril/J’hasi

brothersofthedominion:

‘Didn’t realize he had a brother…’ Aldaril pondered, almost curious as to what happened between the two. He flinched again when the soft fur of his tail struck his belly again. He flushed a little when the Khajiit told him ‘yer a good mer’ To be completely honest, the khajiits words meant something to him. Despite being 7’3 and built like a bull, the soldier melted like butter at compliments like that. Although he had to admit no matter how hard he tried, Icarus was an idiot. He would send someone to the healers for even saying something like that, but in the end, he knew they were right.

“Don’t worry lad, your secrets safe with me.” The Altmer chuckled, shaking his head. Aldaril felt a sense of accomplishment when he crossed into the courtyard. He opened the door to the Hall of Attainment, happy to feel something that wasn’t bitter wind, “And we’re here.” Aldaril glanced about the halls, noticing mostly everyone was asleep. He gently lowered himself so the khajiit could get off.

J’hasi’s fur fluffed as he shivered a little at the last sharp nip of cold before the doors shut and they were left in the semi-chill of the student’s quarters. His arms initially pulled tighter around the mer as he buried his face into his shoulder, unwilling to relinquish such a warm partner before his eyes snapped open.

Trust.

He was sort of glad his brain decided to process that now, rather than on the bridge, as he suddenly let go, half-sliding and half-dropping from the Altmer’s back to the hard stone floor with a small noise of discomfort when he landed on his tail. The Khajiit shifted his weight onto the side of his hip, the poor thing freed and still hurting a little as he rubbed at it. He grimaced at the bright light of the weird liquid-light pool that was in the center of the room, slowly shifting onto his knees before wobbling up to stand. He overbalanced and fell backwards into the wall, his knees a little shaky.

“<Th…thanksh…>” he muttered, before his ears pricked at the Dunmeris and he shook his head, trying again.

“Thanksh. Fer th’ ride… ‘N th’ drinksh…” he said, cursing himself for being so rattled. He just had to get upstairs and then he could finish reading his…

“…shunovabi’ch…” J’hasi groaned, hitting his forehead with the butt of his palm, something he greatly regretted as everything swayed unsettlingly. Being warm and steady on Aldaril’s back had been nice, but it also made the standing thing rather disorienting.

“F’rgot m’ book…” he muttered. His tome of Sparks was still at the tavern, probably being burned up by that vindictive little whelp that the mer in front of him called a brother. ‘Damn it all…’ The Khajiit waved his hand as if shooing the issue aside. The innkeeper saw him with it, and he hadn’t caused any trouble.

“I c’n jush’ git it t’morrow… Fffff…thanksh fer th’ ‘elp. I…” ‘Don’t you dare say it.’ his rational side warned, but it was brushed aside for the part of him that was still dopey from the impromptu cuddling.

“I had fun… Sh’nicshe… Yeah…” he slurred, then hiccuped, then giggled. His drunkenness made him a little clumsy as he stumbled over the step or two to give the mer a big hug, a short purr coming out of him as he stood on his tiptoes, having the realization at just how tall this mer was, again. J’hasi knew he had been sitting down the first time he had realized it, but he wasn’t even level with Aldaril’s heart, hearing it thumping above him. He frowned, thinking for a moment on…

‘Now stop right there and think about you’re about to try. Does it seem like a good idea?’ No. No, it didn’t. The Khajiit’s face twitched in a slight wince as his brain fed him reason, fighting through the haze of drink that discreetly nudged away the boundaries he normally held himself to. He had drank far too much, far too fast. He had to cut his losses now, before he did something he would really regret. He was in enough trouble already. His ears lowered a little, but then he gave the mer another squeeze, tail curling a bit around Aldaril’s leg before it flicked behind him.

“G’luck wiff yer broth’r… He looksh ‘bit more sholid than me…”

∯

“I still want to know what happened to you, if you died or…worse… I still remember that day, as vivid now as it was then. It’s something rather hard to forget, really. I know why you did it, and I know that it may have been the only way, but…

“I miss you. Part of me wonders if you miss me too.”

ϟ

J’hasi flicked his eyes back down to the cobblestone, hoping Brielle hadn’t caught him staring. He knew full well it was rude, and it tended to make people think you were thinking about robbing them, which was definitely not the case. He just… He couldn’t help but marvel at her red hair, how soft it looked, and the smattering of freckles across her nose and cheekbones. Couple that with how nice she was, how patient she was with him…

She reminded him of Maarzi.

Granted the Breton’s hair wasn’t as dark of a red as Maarzi’s had been, and Brielle’s freckles were more numerous, but it was enough to cause that persistent pull of longing in his chest to resurface after years of neglect.

He turned his head to the right, ears pricking at a nonexistent sound in an attempt to appear at ease, normal, not at all having a crisis while left to the whims of his own thoughts.

‘What makes you think that she’d want to see you again? She’s just helping out an old drunk find his way because of a piss-poor excuse for a map. Once she leads you to the Prawn, she’s going to go her own way and you’ll go yours.’ His ears lowered a fraction of an inch, staring very hard at a patch of grass at the base of a tree to ward off the pricking at the corners of his eyes.

She wouldn’t appreciate him hanging around. Brielle was kind, yes, but she had her own life that didn’t include emotionally-unstable werewolves. She had a nice, normal life with normal problems, normal cares and worries. Skyrim was a big place; it would be highly unlikely that they would run into each other again. Riften wasn’t where he needed to be anyways. He had to keep moving to keep the Thalmor off his tail, had to find that damned College Markus was talking about.

He let his ears relax as if he had lost interest in whatever had made the ‘sound’, turning to face the road ahead, allowing himself to glance at the Breton out of the corner of his eye. He couldn’t form attachments, had to keep himself distanced. Regardless of how much they reminded you of a friend long lost to the grave.

The Khajiit looked back up at the road ahead, pulling his scarf up to cover his ‘cold nose’, feeling a damp warmth soaking into the fabric.