death tw // – vvardenfellcat

Guilt- Aldaril/Jhasi

brothersofthedominion:

“Unless I get dish-…discharged er somthin’. I up n’ quit now, I may as well put my head on th’ choppin’ for desser- desertion.” Aldaril picked up the bottle, giving it a swirl, “ ‘Sides, when-when-… If I stop now, I canna– I can’t support th’ rest of my family– My aunt. Sh-shes the uh-… We’d be orphans on th’ street if not fer her.” He took another swig of the wine, head thumping on the support of the bed, “Rest of th’ family didn’t wan’ us… Icarus speshif–.. speh– fuck–specifically.”

He rested his face into his palms, fingers clutching onto his brows, “We were dumb kids, y’know- dumb an’–dumb and angry. Some Nords took a-a-a hit at uh– at our home. Next thing ya know, our cousin gets lopped in half in th’ Great War. Our uncle nearly follows an’ I gotta drag ‘im out of a legion camp and — an’–”

His fingers wrung the neck of the bottle. He could almost smell the metallic tang of blood, almost feel the warm fluid seeping into his arms as the recollections flooded his memory. His chest lifted rapidly before desperately taking the bottle into his mouth. He slammed the bottle down, missing the carpet; glass scatted across the floor in all directions. “Sleck!” The intoxicated mer cursed under his breath, glancing sheepishly at the khajiit, “S-… Sorry about that, cerum.”

J’hasi jumped at the sound of shattering glass, seeing the sharp shards of green scattering over the stone under them with a splattered puddle of wine. He huffed quietly, knowing that with the mer drunk, he was going to get more than one piece buried in his foot or something if he didn’t clean it up. He waved the Altmer off, pushing himself up into a crouch, starting to gather up the shards in a pile, his tail flicking slowly behind him as it smoothed out to its normal size.

“I see…” he murmured quietly, silent for a moment, pausing with his fingers touching a shard of glass before he hooked his claws under it, pulling it up and into his palm, the edge scraping the stone quietly before tinking against its fellows in the growing pile. The Khajiit took a slow breath as he worked on cleaning up before speaking again.

“I’m…sorry that your family was hurt. The war…wasn’t kind to anyone, least of all those who lost something important because of it…” J’hasi’s ears lowered, feeling emotion pool into his chest as he picked up the shards, reminded of Baht’s gleaming scales, all proud and excited to join the Blades…only to be shot down, an arrow piercing through his back, into his stomach…blood, blood everywhere…

Watching the fear in his eyes when he came back to scoop the Saxhleel up out of the snow, tears, whimpering as the last little bit of light in his eyes faded away…quiet, whispered panic in his hisses of Jel before…silence, nothing but dead air from dead lungs escaping into the frigid mountain winds…

J’hasi started a little at something hitting his thumb, looking down and seeing his fur was damp on the back of his hands, turning his face to swipe away the tears pooling up in his eyes before Aldaril could notice. He let out a slow breath, his voice sounding a little more fragile.

“I hope that you’re allowed to go home soon. Start a different career. Convince your brother to take up work where his mouth is less likely to get him into trouble, maybe.” he said, gathering up the last of the glass and looking at the wine dripping off the sharp edges.

“While it was a choice made out of anger, I hope it’s not one that costs you everything.”

💀

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…”

{ 6, 8, 10 :3 )

8. Is the muse merciful or *cruel?

J’hasi’s usually a very merciful person. There’s only a few cases that he’s been cruel. Thalmor are the biggest case, obviously, if he’s allowed the time he’ll draw out the injuries and deaths unnecessarily. Same story with a few bandits and other such folks that were cruel to innocents in a way that conflicts deeply with how J’hasi feels others should treat each other.

An example can be found here. Warning: implied rape

—

10. Is my muse honourable?

Depends. If his assailant is Thalmor, or is very clearly trying to kill him or harm others in any way, there is no honorable fighting. Survival takes precedence. Any fight J’hasi isn’t interested in taking part in and someone pushes him, also no honor, he’ll end it as quickly as he can with whatever’s at his disposal (following the mentality that ‘if you start a fight without regard for me, I’ll finish it without regard for you’).

Good-natured brawls/duels/sparring he’ll be honorable, as that’s something he’s agreed to, and is usually a learning experience, practice, and/or for funsies.

TL;DR J’hasi’s honorable unless you’re threatening survival/wellbeing of himself or others and/or being a dick. Show respect, get respect and all that.

—

6. A drabble about the first time the muse killed someone.

The Khajiit shivered a little, surprised at the angry confession from the Dunmer, seeming to show no regret for what they’d done. Murdering someone, even a tax collector, and just…not caring… It scared him a little, but also made him angry. Did they not care about the Dunmer in the lighthouse? Thavere hadn’t even known their friend was dead until he’d said something. And the look on their face when he’d told them… J’hasi’s ears flicked back, brows furrowed.

“<That’s not excuse for murder.>” Foryn’s eyes narrowed on him.

“<You’re one of them, huh? Come to kill me? Well, give it your best shot, Khajiit. I’ve no problem spilling more of the blood of the Emperor’s lackeys!>” Before he could protest about the ‘lackey’ bit (or the killing bit for that matter), he was tackled into the wall behind him, yelping as a basket was crushed under him, head striking the wood at his back with a hiss. The Dunmer’s fingers groped for his neck, J’hasi’s tail puffing as he tried to shove them away, get them away from his neck, but the haft of his spear wasn’t much use in such close quarters, not when he was also trying to keep from being strangled.

“<W-wait!>” he yelped, only for the mer to grab the collar of his armor, lifting him up and slamming him into the wall, knocking him silly, letting him go only to grip around his throat and squeeze. The Khajiit started to panic, squirming, eyes wide, shocked and not knowing what to do, he had to get away, he had to breathe. It wasn’t until the edges of his vision started to darken that it hit him.

He was going to die here.

It was when the reality of that set in that J’hasi started to wriggle, teeth bared, biting at the air, hands grabbing the mer’s wrists and sinking his claws in, drawing his legs up, the claws on his toes tearing into fabric and skin as he kicked, clawing, biting, trying to get away. The Dunmer let out a long, loud stream of curses, letting go and backing away, blood staining their front and skin as the Khajiit gasped for breath like a beached fish.

“<You n’wah!>” Foryn rushed him again, but this time panic and adrenaline fueled the young Khajiit’s body like shock magic, darting underneath the arms reaching for his throat again, tackling them and knocking them over onto the ground. The mer let out a huff of air, hands reaching for his throat again, J’hasi’s tail puffing behind him before he grabbed the sides of the Dunmer’s head, bringing it up, and slamming it down.

Over.

And over.

And over…

The Khajiit was shaking, not realizing he’d been crying, eyes wide and cheeks damp, hands trembling as he realized that the dampness at his fingertips couldn’t be from tears.

Red. Red on the floor, under the mer’s head…

J’hasi’s breathing hitched sharply in his throat, scrambling back, kicking frantically to get away from a body he realized was dead, his back hitting the door with a thump. He looked at his hands, finding that his fingertips were darker, the scent of iron and salt biting at his nose. He hurriedly wiped it away on the dirt floor, his hands and…everything trembling uncontrollably. The glassy stare of the mer was still locked on the ceiling, where his face had been only…only moments before… The same look of shock and realization frozen in place… The Khajiit’s own face screwed up, closing his eyes, grabbing at the sides of his head as he started sobbing.

He just killed someone.

[ ☤: a memory of death/loss ]

4E 171, Cyrodiil

Another crash, heat billowing in as the tunnels crumbled more, mortar hissing between the stones to color them ashen. J’hasi coughed, shaking his head as he pulled his scarf up over his nose better, feeling Baht blindly grope for his tail to lead him. The Khajiit gripped his sword tighter, keeping his head low as he heard the sounds of battle upstairs where the Thalmor had breached the interior. He could hear the newer recruits’ shaky breathing alongside the unsteady veterans’ as he fought to keep his own smooth and calm. Small skirmishes he’d long been accustomed to, but it was like the Battle of Bruma, or the invasion of the Imperial City all over again, except…except Daedric banishments would be of little use.

The sound of barked Altmeris prompted J’hasi to press on further, only able to smell the dust and fear in the tunnels. His hands and legs were shaking, licking his lips and tasting dust as his eyes caught the familiar bend in the tunnel before they would be outside, safe. …hopefully.

“Up ahead, quickly.” he whispered. He felt Baht squeeze his tail in response, his hand shaking. They’d nearly gotten to the bend when the howling wail of another fireball sailing for the Temple made Baht freeze, J’hasi looking back to prompt him to keep moving. The fireball struck the walls, another shuddering rumble rippling through the old stone and mortar. Part of the ceiling collapsed behind them, the Khajiit hissing at the others to keep moving, seeing light filtering through from above. They had to move quickly before the tunnel was found.

It was only once they were outside that J’hasi could see the damage wrought on the place he’d called home for a while now, fires blazing over old Akaviri architecture, walls blasted open, the blood of Blades and Thalmor alike staining it and the snow around it, bodies littered about. It made his legs shake, making it hard to breathe before he pulled Baht forward, ushering the recruits ahead.

Of course it was too easy to just let them get away, lead the recruits away from a battle they weren’t at all prepared for.

A fireball struck the trunk of a tree, far too close to the Khajiit’s head for comfort, turning around and spotting a few of those dark-robed bastards and others in golden Elvish armor. He pushed Baht ahead, turning to face them.

“GO! Run!” he snapped, turning to bare his fangs at the mer rushing him. The scent of steel and iron, blood brought him back down from the fear making him tremble, a normal battle, combat he was used to, practiced movements day after day in the Temple courtyard, against other Blades for a bet, or as punishment, and eventually, wooden dummies when the Blades there knew better than to fight him.

It never got any easier, but it was familiar.

One slash cut right through robes, the mage startled when he turned to fight them so quickly and crying out in pain before scarlet soaked the cloth darker, staggering back. Another mage tried to use a shock spell, only for it to just tingle, another sending blazing pain through his arm and rendering it useless for precious moments, but he lunged at them, the tip of his blade sinking into their stomach and out the back. It was by then that the ones in armor caught up, ducking back to avoid a swing of a greatsword, bringing up his twitching arm, the blade glancing off the steel bands over his forearm, but bruising and leaving it feeling hot and unsteady.

His tail whipped behind him, snarling before slamming his shoulder into the mer’s stomach, knocking them both into the snow, tumbling, disoriented, a slice on the Khajiit’s cheek appearing when the greatsword nicked him. When they finally stopped at the bottom of the hill, he took his blade in both hands and drove the edge down over the mer’s throat, seeing shock and surprise, fear, before blood sprayed out from their neck and splattered over their skin, the Khajiit’s face and armor.

J’hasi flattened out over the body to avoid a roar of flame, catching the scent of burning cloth behind him and rolling over into the snow, putting out his scarf. He staggered a little while getting up, still a little dizzy as the two other armored mer and the last mage came at him. The Khajiit took deep breaths as they ran to him, darting to the side of the mage, swiping their dagger from their hip before stabbing them in the kidney with it, shoving them down the hill before blocking one of the armored Thalmor’s swings with his sword. He ducked, shoving the blades up when the other armored mer ran at him with a warhammer, the two of them hitting each other with a screech of metal before backing away.

In the brief seconds that followed, J’hasi kicked at the legs of one, throwing the dagger at the mage struggling to aim a spell at him below, striking their side with a thump. A brief moment when a Thalmor snatched the edge of his scarf caught him off-guard, a sharp slice of his sword and he was free, running up into the mountains and trees, heart racing. He could hear the remaining two huffing, trying to keep up with him, his own lungs and limbs burning with fatigue and strain, unused to wearing heavy armor for so long. When he finally caught up with the recruits, he was gasping, seeing Baht spot him and rush to him, shaking.

“J-J’hasi, y-you okay?” he asked, his ‘s’ a hiss in his panicked state. The Khajiit pat him on the shoulder.

“Fine. W…we need to move. Bolar, scout ahead, make sure there aren’t more ahead trying to cut us off.” Velyn started, eyes wide.

“We got more incoming.” J’hasi turned to see the two he’d left behind, as well as a few archers, arrows already being drawn.

“Archers! Move!” he barked, hearing the creaks of bowstrings before sharp hisses, one sinking into his side, dinging against a Breton’s shield, Velyn’s armor…and one diving right through Baht’s armor and into his stomach.

The next few seconds seemed like an eternity, yet an instant. Blood dribbled from the Saxhleel’s mouth, eyes wide as he staggered back, not quite sure what had happened to him just yet. J’hasi ran to him, grabbing his arm, trying to get him to move, get him out of range. Baht’s steps were fumbling, slow, the Khajiit straining to keep him upright, keep him moving. Another volley, recruits screaming as they were shot or saw their friends dropping to the ground, dead, Velyn trying to get them to keep running.

J’hasi pulled Baht along, surprised when the Saxhleel suddenly fell on top of him with a huff, the scent of blood filling his nose. The Khajiit struggled to get out from underneath him, pushing him onto his back, eyes lighting up with fear when he saw the Thalmor closing in on them. The pounding in his chest grew too painful, gasping sharply before a series of cracks and snaps erupted from his body, claws swiping at the bindings of his armor, trying to get them off before he could be crushed inside his own armor. His short gasps turned into sharp snarls, his scarf slipping off of his neck as it grew thicker, the Khajiit almost feeling sick with how quickly he was rising up. He saw a flash of Baht’s face, fear in his eyes before the Thalmor made sounds of panic, and the wolf rushed in, full force.

…

J’hasi’s limbs shook with exhaustion and the fading rage as he walked through the torn bodies of the dead soldiers, collapsing into a heap next to the Saxhleel still breathing, still whimpering with pain and fear, trying to push himself away. The Khajiit puffed out a few breaths before hushing the Argonian.

“S’alrigh’…s’…s’fine… Baht. Baht, look at me.” His ears flicked back when Baht shook his head, jaw trembling, unable to make much noise other than whimpering. J’hasi looked over his body, seeing and smelling the blood from the wound in his stomach, but also blood pooling from underneath him. He let out a low curse. Had it gone all the way through?

“<Baht, I need you to talk to me, okay? I’m gonna get ff-that arrow out, and fff-then we’re gonna have to move, alright?>” The Argonian shivered, hand shaking as it grabbed at the snow under him.

“<I-I-I c-can’t feel m-mm-my legs.>” J’hasi’s blood went cold, realizing that while his arms were trying to push at the snow to move him, his legs, his tail…they were still. He pulled Baht onto his side, spotting an arrow that had gone right between the plates of his armor into his back at an odd angle. The Khajiit grit his teeth, then snapped the shaft off, Baht yelping before he pushed him onto his back again. He pat the Argonian’s face, trying to keep his eyes open.

“<Listen to me. I’m going to get you out of here, okay? Baht?>” The Saxhleel was looking at him, throat convulsing as he kept swallowing, blood trickling out of the corner of his mouth, from his nose, panting and whimpering, tears streaking down his cheeks as a shaky hand grabbed a handful of his fur. J’hasi shivered, his vision blurring a little as he tried moving him, only to feel horror clawing up his throat when the grip at his arm tightened, those yellow eyes pausing, unfocusing…the shaking and watery gasps and whimpers quieting. A few seconds of silence passed, before…

“<…B…Baht?>” The Khajiit gently shook his shoulder, jaw trembling. No response. His vision blurred, tears overflowing and spilling out over his fur, soaking it and rapidly growing cold in the freezing air.

“Baht.” J’hasi sniffed, a small whimper coming out before he dropped his head, fingers curling over the cold breastplate of his friend, his mentee…

“<P-please…>”