cannibalism tw // – vvardenfellcat

[Doing quests with J’hasi is interesting bc like…sometimes he just doesn’t give a damn about things? Like Morrowind he was like ‘I help and they’ll give me shinies I can use to get food without ppl chasing me down! :D’ In Skyrim I started doing quests in Markarth for funsies and ideas and like…the Namira quest he’s just like ‘Guilt? What?’ and ‘uh…okay…’ before he’s like ‘okay so if I take care of these fucking undead then I’ll have an easier time getting some human flesh yeah?’

When the lady is like ‘oh yeah btw go convince this guy to come here and Namira will do the rest’ he’s just like ‘:/ fuck that I can do this easier myself what a waste of time’.

Not to mention all the Nords being like ‘THE SILVER BLOOD FAMILY WILL BE HEARD’ and ‘IM A SUPERBREAD MER AND WE CLAIM THAT RELIGIOUS TALOS’ J’hasi’s more or less like ‘uh ok…’ and leaves lmao]

It had been a while since he had last eaten, wandering in the wastes devoid of game as he was, so the scent of a potential corpse brought hope into the Khajiit’s heart, energy in his step, and drool into his mouth. When J’hasi finally tracked the scent down to a small cave, he found the expanse of grey flesh, the Dunmer obviously dead for only a short while. His eyes flicked up to the cave mouth, listening carefully for a few moments before he relaxed. He crouched down, tail flicking out to rest along the ground as he took the forearm in a firm grip to sniff along the skin.

No poison. It was safe to eat. But his growling stomach urged him to just eat it raw, not to waste time cooking it. He could feel the hot scraping claws of hunger within his belly and it would be quicker relieved the sooner he got something into it.

J’hasi bared his teeth before he sank his fangs down into the meat of the forearm, resistance of the skin holding until a small series of pops and the ivory daggers sank down deep. The Khajiit’s tail tapped on the ground, pulling bites off of the bone, licking his lips free of the cool, coagulated blood oozing out. He preferred it warmer, but he couldn’t be picky. Especially right now, when he had thinned out to the barest of bones with fur draped over, clinging to his ribs like damp clothing. Each bite put him closer to the point that he could make a fire and cook the rest. But not yet. He was too hungry right now.

His tongue rasped against the bone, scraping off the last bits of flesh from the thicker, meatier part of the forearm before he felt something brush against his scarf. J’hasi’s eyes opened, looking down to see it was just the mer’s hand, limp and dead, fingers caught in the folds with his jostling. He returned to licking at the bones before he heard a quiet exhale, and the flesh under his other hand…shifted.

The Khajiit’s eyes snapped up to see the Dunmer sit up and stare eyelessly at him, half of their face ripped off, breath coming out in a smoky, groaning huff. The exhale caused a light in the empty eye sockets to glow, like a puff of breath on an ember. The fingers that were brushing against his scarf fisted in the scarlet cloth, dragging him closer to the bared, broken teeth, a groaning death rattle coming out from the dead…not-dead…UNdead mer.

“Give…it…back…” the mer groaned, breath rattling on the way out as J’hasi was frozen in place, heart racing, terrified but incapable of moving, speaking, only staring in horror at the undead’s face. It lifted him up a little higher by his collar.

“Give…it…BACK!” it reiterated, more smoke, the coal-eyes burning brighter as the sickly smell of charred bone and hair filled his nose. The Khajiit whimpered, squeezing his eyes shut in fear before he let out a sharp gasp, clutching at his stomach. He cringed, then cried out, squirming and writhing at the pain inside of his stomach, pain that only grew worse as he felt something squirming, ALIVE, inside of him.

“Mine…” the undead growled airily, J’hasi starting to scream as maggots ate their way out of his stomach, gagging as they came up his throat, choking him and when he coughed, more fell into his lungs and resumed eating. They were eating his throat, his lungs, his insides, the inside of his mouth and his tongue, blood dripping from his teeth as he whimpered and coughed and gagged, tears pouring from his eyes before he couldn’t make any sound at all but pained gasps and torn cries, his vocal cords devoured by the plague of writhing, pulsating, off-white maggots.

He could see the bites of flesh he had eaten dribbling out of his opened stomach cavity, carried by the swarm to be placed and reattached onto the undead’s torn arm, reclaiming its stolen flesh from the bowels of his own. J’hasi let out a small, strangled, screeching cry before blood started dripping from his eyes, the maggots having burrowed into the deeper reaches of his skull and finding new flesh to feast upon. It was agony, and he wanted it to end, to stop feeling the little bastards crawling under his fur, eating him alive from the inside out, and there was nothing he could do but watch through a growing haze of blood as the undead smirked at his suffering.

“You taste good, meat.” it hissed quietly, then the lights in its skull flared, and it bared its teeth before it lunged at him too.

He bolted upright, screaming, clawing frantically at his skin, at his face, tangled up in his blankets before he darted for the nearby shore, diving into the frigid waters and struggling and squirming against the phantom sensations he could still feel outside of the nightmare. He shivered in the freezing water before he finally surfaced, coughing and gagging and shaking. Ghost nickered at him from the shore, seeming concerned before she delicately picked her way over to him and lowered her head to sniff at his mane.

J’hasi realized he was crying, hiccuping sobs breaking from his mouth before he grasped her mane, pulling himself up onto her back, clutching at her soft mane and coarse fur, feeling the warmth rather than the sickly, clammy, cold touch of that undead. Ghost quietly walked back over to the fire, the roiling in the Khajiit’s stomach reaching a peak before he heaved over her side, vomit splattering onto the ground. Ghost waited patiently before she moved on, bringing him to the fireside before slowly settling down onto the ground.

The Khajiit slid off of her back to lay along her side, caught between the pale mare and the fire, still shaking and occasionally freaking out at the tiniest disturbance of his fur, tearing at the spot until either skin or fur was torn, leaking blood. He shuddered, burrowing as close as he could to the enormous horse, burying his nose in her fur to only smell her calm, living, breathing scent of snow, leather, dirt, fur, and grass, all tinged with chill seawater. Ghost nickered quietly again, nosing at his jaw and blowing hot air into his ear.

J’hasi wrapped his arms around her neck, hugging her as close as he could, trying to think of just her scent and warmth as the memory of the dream slowly started to fade in its intensity.

◆

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.]

✔✔

‘…I’ve never seen someone so pale… And what the hell is that they’re wearing? And…why do they smell like they have a few cuts of people in their pack?’

So what’s your favorite? Leg of Imperial? Argonian kidney? I’m sure you’ve tried all sorts of tasty things as a were huh?

The mention of ‘Argonian kidney’ made him feel a little queasy, a look of discomfort flickering over his face.

“I had that stuff as a kid too, y’know. Just…not Argonian… That one time…that was an accident…” he muttered uneasily. He closed his eyes, taking slow breaths through his nose until he felt a little less nauseous.

“I like Khajiit, I guess. It’s sweet most of the time, and depending on the breed, you can get quite a lot of meat off of them. Plus the furs sell pretty well. Imperials tend to have a lot of fat on them, so they’re good for roasts or stews. The richer they are, the more fat they have. Almost tastes like sweet beef sometimes, but…more tender I guess. Nords tend to either have a sweet or bitter edge to them. It depends on if they’re the ‘mead hall’ type or the ‘barbarian beserker’ type.” He shrugged.

“I can’t really recall much of the others, since I didn’t really spend a lot of time hunting one specific race, the ones I mentioned were just the most common I’ve had in different provinces. That and I never really paid much mind to which types of people I liked more since I usually just eat those who I find dead, or they attacked me and I killed them. So…really I tend to get those that are desperate or possess questionable health, and they…don’t really taste all that good.”

So, kitty – who’s the most delicious person you’ve ever eaten?

J’hasi frowned.

“Don’t call me that.” he grumbled before he started thinking over the question.

“Um…i-it’s sort of hard to remember names, y’know? And I don’t know all the names of the people I’ve…eaten in the first place.” Geez, this was a weird line of questioning… The Khajiit’s tail ticked back and forth at the tip before his expression lit up.

“Oh! Right, there was this…well, it was a Khajiit. I didn’t know his name at first, but some Nord who said he was his assistant said he was called M’nashi, and that he died of moon sugar overdose. I was…shifted at the time, so I sort of…ate him as soon as I found him and dug him up out of the snow. By the time I shifted back, he was just bones, blood, and a few scraps of fur and entrails.” He rubbed the back of his head.

“I actually felt sort of bad eating him after I found out he had been buried, but I hadn’t eaten in days by that point, and that was before I came to terms with the fact that I had to actually hunt people for food, rather than just eating those already dead like he was. I was still a little…not okay with killing people at all then.” The Khajiit’s ears pulled back a little, gaze flicking downwards.

“I made sure to bury what was left of him where it would be harder for…scavengers to get at him. I apologized as well, but I didn’t know if how apologizing to the dead was the same for Khajiit as it was for Argonians. Turns out that Khajiit seem to be pretty indifferent to what happens to their bodies after death, so I guess no harm done.” J’hasi wiped at his mouth, a small, embarrassed chuckle coming out of him.

“Sorry. Um…there was some sort of flesh a Bosmer cooked up one night when I was in Valenwood, and that was pretty good. I don’t know what…or…who, it was from though.”

♤ : Cooking headcanon

Growing up in his tribe where the word ‘cooking’ could be translated as ‘food burning’, J’hasi didn’t often eat cooked foods as a kid, but rather ate raw plants and meats, usually with some sort of spice rubbed into it to make it a little more tasty. When he got sick (which was frequent enough) then he’d be given cooked food as it was easier on his stomach. During his enslavement, his mistress taught him the basics of cooking, but his circumstances didn’t allow for much practice.

So, predictably, he’s not the greatest of cooks. He will eat things raw if it’s fresh, though while in Skyrim, a warm meal is just as important as warm blankets. Plus…things tend to turn into popsicles in his pack, and gnawing frozen meat isn’t exactly pleasant. He’ll cook things if he intends to preserve them, or if the source is questionable health-wise. He can’t get sick anymore, but it’s more of habit than anything else. Plus, sometimes cooked foods taste better than raw.

He knows how to make basic soups, stews, and roasts, as well as many common, simple Dunmeri and Khajiiti dishes, and nearly any Argonian dish he’s ever had. Most Cyrodilic dishes he ran across was either ‘boil everything and salt it’ or ‘let’s eat the tiniest bits of animals, like rabbit tongues, smothered in gravy!’, so he doesn’t often make stuff like that. He likes how they handle cooking wild game, like deer with sweet apples and the like, but he’s under the impression that Imperials took too much of a liking for High Rock’s Bretic cuisine.

While he was in Valenwood, he learned one way they prepared human flesh for a stew, and since coming to Skyrim, will often eat the human flesh he has in that form, as it’s chopped up into little bits and looks less like he’s gnawing on a chunk of people. Otherwise if he’s settled down in one place for a time, he’ll either dry or smoke the meat and keeps it in a pouch on his belt for a snack when the cravings start to set in.

J’hasi Headcanon 003 – The ‘Wolf

J’hasi first became infected with sanies lupinus in 3E 427 when werewolves attacked the Skaal village while he and his brother Shadows were there. Due to the fact that J’hasi had become immune to disease, he and his brother weren’t worried too much about what Shaman Korst warned them about at first. After all, Shadows was immune to disease due to his Argonian heritage, and J’hasi because of his corpus. As it later turned out, diseases of Daedric origin could overpower even the resistances corpus provided (at least, that is what J’hasi believes).

It was after Hircine had been defeated when J’hasi found a possible lead on how he could be cured. It led him to the witches of Glenmoril, who had arrived on Solstheim. They offered a cure, seemingly for no reason other than benevolent intent towards a cursed soul. It was suspicious, but J’hasi was desperate and took it, and performed the Rite of the Wolf Giver. He blacked out before the Rite could be completed, but what had to be done was done, right?

Something either went wrong, or it was the witches’ intent to trick him, as it only appeared to have cured him. It wasn’t until the full moon after the first that he stumbled upon the fact, and by then the witches were long gone.

While during the month of the Bloodmoon prophecies J’hasi shifted every night, after the ‘cure’ ‘ran out’ he was only forced to shift once a month, under a full moon. Other shifts were either willing (extremely rare), when he was under extreme duress, or exceptionally angry. As he had little to no control over himself when such shifts occurred, it fell to Shadows to perform damage control.

It was only after J’hasi had reasonable control over himself and was able to keep himself from shifting when under stress that he and Shadows set off to High Rock, intending to find the witches who deceived them. They were set back by the Emperor’s assassination and the duties J’hasi had as a Blade as a result when they arrived in Cyrodiil in 3E 433.

While he still searches for a cure, he keeps careful notes on his case of lycanthropy, in case some small detail could lead him one step closer to ridding himself of it forever. Despite over 200 years of dealing with his infection, his notes are still massively incomplete:

J’hasi shifts every month under the full moon. He will transform at moonrise and will not shift back until sunrise, between which he is little more than a bloodthirsty, rabid beast with the vague cunning of a person. He has little to no control over himself, and may or may not remember what occurred. The ‘full moon’ seems to only pertain to Secunda, but when Masser is also full, the urges that come with lycanthropy are much stronger. Bloodmoons seem to intensify his condition, and the chance of him ‘breaking through’ to seize control is nonexistent.

He can willingly (or accidentally) shift once per day (with the exception of the day prior to the full moon), after which he’s only capable of shifting after a few hours of rest and the completion of a lunar cycle (moonrise the next evening). Accidental shifts he has little to no control over himself, much like his monthly shifts, but it’s easier for him to think clearly (but not by much). His willing shifts he has control over himself, but risks losing it under duress or anger.

The moons do play a significant part in lycanthropy, but are not the sole variable, evidenced by J’hasi still being susceptible to shift under duress or anger, but not being forced to shift every month and the emotional pulls being practically nonexistent during the Void Nights. Instincts and urges were intact, but the urge to hunt didn’t grow stronger and weaker over the course of the month with the moons absent.

He feels more energetic and prone to outbursts towards the full moon, while more morose and depressed towards the new moon. Similarly, his temper and predatory urges he possesses seem to magnify closer to the full moon until it becomes a nearly overwhelming bloodlust, even worse when the next full moon is a bloodmoon.

Wounds caused by or touched with silver, wolfsbane, and belladonna are extremely painful and are slow to heal (slower than a normal, non-werewolf would heal). Wounds caused by fire heal as fast as a normal, non-werewolf would heal. Any other wounds he’s experienced heal rather quickly, supernaturally so while shifted.

He feels as if there’s a ‘wolf’ inside of him, pushing with urges to hunt, eat, and to form and protect his ‘pack’, as well as avoiding cities and large crowds of people.

Increased senses. His hearing is far more acute, even when out of shift, and his sense of smell is greatly increased. His physical strength and stamina are unaffected while out of shift, but while shifted, are greatly increased.

Mental capacity diminishes while shifted, leaving him incapable of attempting magic, speaking, or performing tasks more complicated than opening an unlocked door. He’s still capable of understanding speech, but complicated, abstract thoughts are very difficult for him to process.

J’hasi’s able to identify individual people by their scent, as well as detecting vampires and other shifters by whatever scent they share with others of their kind, both in and out of shift. He can smell strong, simple emotions, whatever the target’s been eating, if they’re injured, stress levels, and general age. He can hear heartbeats if he’s close enough for it, though he has to be much closer to the source while out of shift.

His appetite is greatly increased, and he gets hungry much quicker than before infection.

Extreme cravings for raw meat. Eating the flesh of people staves off the worst of the cravings, but animal flesh will do in a pinch. The fresher and bloodier, the better.

He has increased body temperature, almost as if he’s constantly running a fever, both in and out of shift.

Greatly increased metabolism, evidenced by how much and how frequently he has to eat to keep up his energy, as well as how quickly both poison and drink are burned out of his system. It’s difficult to get drunk unless he continually keeps drinking harder liquor.

So far, most of his leads on a cure have led him all over Tamriel, but had turned out to be false. He hopes that he’ll find the cure within the borders of Skyrim, rather than yet another dead end.

6 & 16 :3

6. Do you feel eating in your beast form is cannibalism?

“Of course. If we’re talking about eating people, that is. It’s no different than when an Imperial eats a Khajiit, or vice-versa. I’m not going to go out of my way to kill someone just to eat them, but if they attack me first and there’s an emergency, I’m not going to think twice about it.” The Khajiit frowned, his brow furrowing a little.

“It’s about survival, not wholesale slaughter to satisfy a craving.”

—-

16. How has being a werebeast affected your health?

“Well, I scar a lot easier for one. I get a lot hungrier a lot faster. It’s really hard for me to get drunk… But I also burn through poisons quicker, and I heal faster. I didn’t have to worry about getting sick before I turned, so that didn’t really change. It’s actually because of that that I didn’t think I would get infected in the first place…”