Tag: brielleroux

“Hold still!”

“Back. Off.” The Khajiit was bleeding and he didn’t trust that undead son of a fetcher an inch when he probably smelled like a banquet after a fast. Some drunk bastard had pulled a knife on him outside the Bee and Barb and got a lucky shot in, which while the wound wasn’t that bad, the fact that there was blood everywhere and rapidly soaking into his fur and clothes despite a firm pressure on it with a bloodthirsty vampire around… Well, the tight grip on his dagger held out in front of him seemed very justified.

“<You make a single move towards me and you’ll be scooping your insides off the ground.>” J’hasi hissed, trying to hide his trembling and failing. He needed to get out of the city. Or find Brie-no, no, he’d worry her then. And possibly lead this bastard right to her too. Fuck.

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…”

@brielleroux

The Khajiit pulled gently on Ghost’s mane to get her to stop, checking the crumpled note Sergius had given him for the pickup job he had to do. Riften, one silver amulet from Indaryn. Whoever that was. When J’hasi looked back up to the road, he could see Riften’s stables already, glad that his little shortcut hadn’t gotten them both lost. He gently nudged the mare’s ribs to get her to follow the cobblestone up to the gates, shivering a little at the cool breeze rustling the leaves of the trees and going across the back of his neck.

He technically was supposed to do his pickup and go right back to the College. But he’d had a hell of a time getting Urag’s book for him at the last tomb he had to crawl through, plus bandits on the road, on top of the two contracts he’d slogged through, and the homework he had to complete before classes on Morndas, said classes he still struggled to comprehend what he was supposed to glean from it…

It had been a few weeks since he’d last visited Brielle too, and her company would be a welcome relief, even if only for an afternoon. The Khajiit smiled, patting Ghost’s neck.

“You behave around Scamp, okay? Don’t get too rough with him.” he teased lightly, Ghost snorting in response as she slowed to a halt at the stables, shaking her head to rid herself of a leaf or two that had gotten caught in her mane.

20, 25, and 28

20. In what ways does your character compare themselves to others? Do they do this for the sake of self-validation, or self-criticism?

J’hasi doesn’t always compare himself to others, but usually when he does it’s self-criticism, ranging from general intelligence, skills, and appearances (usually build, amount of muscle/fat/height). This happens a LOT at the College nowadays, comparing his magic skill to others, or…y’know…being able to write papers, understanding what’s being said in lecture, actually able to speak to the professors without sounding like an idiot…

The few times when it’s self-validating is when he compares himself to people he dislikes, which isn’t often but it has happened. Some people end up being almost like rivals to him (though he would deny that outright if asked), making sure that no matter what, he’s better than they are at X thing. Something. Anything to prove to himself that he’s ‘better’ than them. It’s not a positive, mutual ‘let’s be our best!’ sort of rivalry, but more of a bitter ‘I’d stab you in the back as soon as opportunity presents itself’ sort of thing. Rivalships like this are very rare, but it shows a competitive streak in him that rarely comes to surface otherwise.

—

25. How quick is your character to suspect someone else? Does this change if they are close with that person?

He doesn’t trust strangers, at all. If something happens, he’ll rely on his gut feeling coupled with what he knows to figure out who might be responsible. In terms of betraying him, he’s a lot quicker to suspect some arrogant asshat he’s known a matter of 5 minutes than…someone close to him. I mean…he kinda has a bad track record of that, and not just in this life.

If he’s close with someone, and I mean really close, like Friend™ close…he gets all sort of twisted up inside. He doesn’t want to believe it, but…it has happened before. If it happened to him nowadays he’d likely be more hurt (being so much more hesitant with bestowing trust on people), but back around the Oblivion Crisis…he’d be a mess. Also…run.

When a stranger stabs you in the back, it’s fulfilling an expected outcome. If a friend stabs you in the back…you made it personal, and hurt a hell of a lot worse.

—

28. How quick or slow is your character to resort to physical violence in a confrontation?

Depends on situation, sometimes those involved. Typically when it’s just him on his own, he’s ready to fight or flee as soon as someone strikes first, but typically tries to avoid physical confrontations if at all possible. With others that either can’t defend themselves or he feels protective Friend™ feelings over, their safety is above anyone else’s possessing hostile intent.

In these instances (much moreso with friends) he’ll try to dissuade conflict like he normally does, but there’s a tension in him. His teeth are shown a little too much when he speaks, his posture a little too threatening. It feels like being near a dog two seconds before a fight breaks out. Or…y’know…a pissed-off, wild animal just waiting to be set loose.

“What a shame, for I dearly love to laugh.”

He was almost a little cross. Almost. But the smile on Brielle’s face, trying to restrain giggles (and failing) had him smiling too, even despite the fact that he was soaked in muddy water and rapidly getting chilled. Ghost nickered, drawing closer and snorting a puff of air in the Khajiit’s face, seeming a little apologetic for her enthusiastic jump that had landed him in the puddle in the first place. J’hasi pat her nose (leaving a muddy handprint behind) before grabbing her mane to help him get up, water streaming off his limbs and tail.

“Yeah, okay, fine, it was a little funny.” He halfheartedly flicked a little muddy water off his fingertips at his friend, more of a tease than actually trying to get her dirty.

“…are those flowers?”

He was trying not to fiddle with them, he really was. When Brielle spotted them before he could open his mouth, the Khajiit felt equal bits relieved and frustrated with himself. A sheepish smile spread over his face.

“Um, y-yeah. I wanted to uh… C-can you teach me how to make those circles with them?”

💕💝

💕: how does my muse express their feelings? do they do through small but meaningful gestures, or through bold declarations?

Small things. J’hasi’s never been very good with talking about any sort of emotion-y sort of stuff (again…thanks Shadows…), no matter the tongue. So using words to communicate that he feels a certain way is really hard for him, even after Maarzi helped him work through some shit (I mean, she got him started, but since he’s so obstinately focused on one thing at a time, working on one’s mental/emotional hangups kinda drops to the backburner when you primarily travel alone).

Nonverbal forms of letting the person know are his primary, either by physical contact or getting them something that they’ve needed or something that he thinks they’d like, even if it’s just getting them food or an interesting looking thing he found outside. It’s only when he’s in a place he feels safe and can be emotionally open with a person that he’ll actually say anything out loud, or if he’s forced to say something due to circumstances, whether internal or external. He’s also the kind of person who won’t breathe a word about how he feels first. Given how stubborn he is, he likely wouldn’t cave first unless it felt like it was killing him.

—

💝: what would my muse consider a “perfect gift”?

Something meaningful that he can make good use of. He’d be more than happy with any sort of gift from a friend (because wow this person thought of me and got me this!), but since he travels a lot, he’s more sure of how to react when it’s something useful like food, clothing, tools, etc.

He’s a little more awkward with presents that he’s unsure how he can make use of (because they thought of you when they got this, so you’d better use it). He feels really bad when it’s something that he can’t use, because refusing a gift seems unspeakably rude, especially when the person cared about him enough to get him a thing in the first place. He’ll try his damnedest, but let’s be real, delicate ornaments/decorations or furniture isn’t really something he can make use of without taking it apart or damaging it in some way.

“Where did you disappear to?”

The Khajiit popped from the clusters of leaves nearly directly in front of the Breton, twigs and other debris caught in his fur as he hung upside down in the branches with a smile.

“Boo!”

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