jhasi drabble – Page 2 – vvardenfellcat

Opia

Opia: The ambiguous intensity of looking someone in the eye, which can feel simultaneously invasive and vulnerable.

His head throbbed, an eye swelling shut, and the Khajiit was sure that was blood he was tasting in his mouth. His tongue pushed at his teeth, anxious that one of them would give way under a press like they did in his nightmares so many times. The Redguard helping him walk got him to a stack of crates in the alley alongside the inn, whatever it was called in Ta’agra…Ta’agran? Whichever it was, it was exactly what came out of the stranger’s mouth, at least…he was pretty sure it was. It sounded sorta like it, though it was hard to tell with his head spinning. What they said though, that was a total mystery to the dizzy Khajiit. He caught one or two words, but nothing he could use to gain insight into what was said.

“<Do not talk good. Cyrodilic? Yes?>” By the Hist, it was even harder with a swollen cheek and that dizzying pain in his head. The Redguard laughed, saying something else a little quieter, getting far too close to his face, the Khajiit baring his teeth a little before they stopped and frowned.

“<…hurt?>” J’hasi nodded, adding a little spinning gesture with his finger, hoping that portrayed the dizziness that worsened even at the little nod. He shut his eyes for a moment, trying to keep his stomach from tossing up the water he’d drank, as well as the couple drinks…he didn’t even get to eat his meal did he?

He jumped, smacking away the hand that touched his face with a snarl, wobbling a little before falling off of the crate with a groan, curling up in the dust. The Redguard planted hands on their hips, muttering something before crouching down, pushing him onto his back.

“<Head hit, hurt bad. Sit still.>” The Khajiit spat out a few curses in Jel and Dunmeris alike as he pushed himself to sit up, feeling like he was going to fall right back over before the stranger grabbed him by the front of his shirt at the shoulders, righting him and pushing him against the crates. They were the only thing keeping him up to be honest, he really just wanted to lay down somewhere soft for a little bit… He flinched when the Redguard reached for his face again, giving him a stern look to keep him still before a gentle thumb pushed his eye open a little more, their own looking into his.

It was way too uncomfortable. Those eyes were too much like Jeer’s. He looked away, pushing their hand away from his face again.

“<No.>” The stranger huffed, frowning and looking very impatient with him. More muttered Ta’agra before they spoke up, speaking with the smaller words again.

“<Home? Here? Or no?>” J’hasi huffed, giving the barest shake of his head. The stranger looked at him for a few moments, then sighed, pulling him up to his feet again.

“<Come. Safe place.>” The Khajiit attempted to protest…which might’ve been more effective if he hadn’t suddenly turned to vomit in the alley, nearly losing his balance in the process. It was probably the only reason to be grateful for the firm grip keeping him upright. The last thing he needed was to fall into his own mess.

[Part One]

4E 132, Valenwood

J’hasi panted, trying to keep his footfalls muffled in the leaf litter, but every movement he made sounded like thunder in his ears. Maybe it was his heartbeat making all that noise, but every snap of a twig sounded like lightning cracking, echoing in the forest, each breath a gust of wind, letting the hunter pursuing him know exactly where he was.

He couldn’t tell where they were, how close, his own breath and footfalls were making it harder for him to listen for the other set of footsteps in the underbrush, the hiss of another arrow, hell, even the panting of the mer as they kept pace with him, holding back until…

How in Oblivion did they know what he was? He’d gotten so good at concealing his condition, hadn’t slipped up in months… The Khajiit gasped for breath, stumbling on a log and nearly losing the grip on his dagger, a push of his spare fingers on the ground and he was back on his feet proper, his (most likely) broken arm pressed against his chest, running away from the scent of the hunter, leather and oil, his own blood… His wounds were making him easier to track, scarlet splattering and marking his trail behind him over the branches and rocks-

J’hasi yelped as he tripped, tumbling head over tail into the undergrowth and decaying leaves, panting and gasping for air with the heat of blood leaking into his fur and soaking his tunic, down to his leg… He sucked in a quick breath to lick at his lips, heart fluttering and throat dry with panic as he scrambled back up to his feet, gritting his teeth at the pain of his wounds aggravated by the fall, trying not to make any more noise than he already was. He felt like he was being run down like a deer-

The Khajiit stopped dead.

Why was he running? He would only tire himself and slowly bleed out. It was just like his own hunts, it was easier to take down a deer when it panicked, moving in for the kill after they’d exhausted themselves-

‘Calm down.’

J’hasi took in a few deep breaths, wincing at the pull of his flesh against the shafts buried into muscle, sharp zings of pain through his arm. His hands were still shaking with adrenaline, and he needed them steady.

‘Breathe…think… You’re faster, stronger, and more dangerous than they are… Just…don’t panic…’

The Khajiit let a breath slip between his teeth, carrying his fluttery panic out of his chest and stomach like he’d been taught, eyes focused as he pushed himself up onto his feet despite the shakiness of his legs. His ears were alert, eyes watching as his heart roared in his head… J’hasi swallowed down the metallic taste in his mouth before leaving the mess of disturbed vegetation from his fall behind, his hands trembling, but less from adrenaline and more from pain.

He wasn’t sure how the hunter knew that he was a werewolf, or why they weren’t trying to use silver on him, but the initial chase was probably just to weaken him before trying when he was slowed down, more likely to be hit and less likely to hit back properly. …or if he made himself bigger.

J’hasi frowned, brows furrowing while he caught his breath, listening for any sounds in the forest. He heard the soft rustling behind him, at least a bowshot away. It was when he heard the slight creak of the string that he bolted again despite the screaming pain in his adrenaline-weakened legs, his wounds, hearing the sharp curse before he darted into the undergrowth.

Prompt: J’hasi’s first introduction to (and impression of) House Redoran.

“<First thing, pilgrim. You’re new. And you look it. Here’s two hundred drakes. Go get yourself a decent weapon. Or armor. Or a spell. And second…>”

The Khajiit stared at the purse, opening it and finding that there were a lot of coins in there. A lot. Nearly as many as that old Imperial back at the Census Office gave him, and without him having to kill someone for it first. Two hundred drakes…just like that… He wasn’t entirely paying attention until he realized Caius was looking at him, a brow raised.

“<Are you listening?>” J’hasi’s ears flicked back, pulling the purse closed and holding it closer to his chest.

“<Y-yes.>” The Imperial sighed.

“<Look…you’re here working for me, alright? Under orders from the Emperor himself. It’s an incredible honor to be made one of the Blades, and not a choice made lightly, understand?>” J’hasi’s ears flicked back, his lower lip pouting out a little in a frown.

“<Why did he pick me then?>”

“<That’s not a decision I’m in a place to question, he did so for his own reasons. Now…what did I just ask you?>” The Khajiit swallowed, silent for a few moments until Caius sighed, pressing his fingers into his forehead.

“<That’s what I thought… You’ll need a cover identity, alright? You can do freelance adventuring, that’s common enough around here, or if you’re interested, there’s some guilds and factions that frequently take people on. It would be good practice for you after you’re trained a bit with the Blades trainers.>” J’hasi frowned.

“” Caius gave him a long stare, patience apparently wearing a little thin.

“<Yes, but you need a cover identity. You can’t go around telling people you work for the Blades, that’s not how we operate. And you clearly need some more skills before I send you out on orders. If I were you, I’d focus on listening first.>” J’hasi’s ears flicked back, mouth opening to protest, only for the Imperial to give him a firm look.

“<You couldn’t tell me what I asked you before, so yes, listening first. Then some training. I’m going to have to send you on some missions that could be dangerous, so you need to be able to handle yourself in a fight, alright?>” J’hasi scowled, looking towards the ground.

“<…I’m not killing people…>” Caius’ expression softened a little.

“<I’m not making any promises that you won’t have to, but it’s more of a concern that you come back alive.>” The Khajiit’s tail swished low behind him, ears pressed back for a few moments before he finally looked up.

“<…does freelance work mean I have to kill people?>”

“<Sometimes, yes. Would you rather be in a guild?>” J’hasi nodded. Caius sighed, starting to tick off his fingers.

“<Groups that favor Imperial interests are, of course, the Blades, but also the Imperial Cult, the Imperial Legion, the Fighters’ Guild, the Mages’ Guild, and the Thieves’ Guild…>”

“<No.>” Caius raised a brow, giving him a look that the Khajiit realized was a silent ‘are you finished?’ look before resuming.

“<Groups that favor the native Dunmer interests are House Redoran, House Hlaalu, and House Telvanni, as well as the Temple, the Morag Tong, the Camonna Tong, and the Ashlanders. The Great Houses hold a lot of the power here in Morrowind, and are likely to accept outlanders into their ranks, while the Camonna Tong and the Ashlanders aren’t fond of them. The Te->”

“<The Houses?>” Caius paused, looking at him.

“<What do you want to know about them?>” J’hasi fidgeted.

“<D’they…d’they have slaves?>” The Imperial nodded.

“<Yes. A lot of people here have slaves. It’s protected by the Armistice.>” The Khajiit’s face twisted a little, ears flicking back, fumbling with the leather of the coinpurse in his hands.

“<…if I joined a House, would people be able to make me a slave?>” Caius’ brows hiked up a notch.

“<…they would be less likely to, knowing that you’re in a position of power, no matter what your rank.>” J’hasi’s eyes focused on the Imperial’s.

“” Caius nodded.

“<Well, you can only join one. They don’t allow conflicts of interest within their ranks.>”

“” Caius noticed the Khajiit’s fingers rubbing over his wrist anxiously.

“<…each of the Great Houses goes about things their own way. House Redoran is a very serious and honorable bunch. House Hlaalu are supporters of the Empire and very open-minded in religious and cultural matters, greedy and ambitious in the best Imperial tradition. House Telvanni… Well, their nobles are thousand-year-old wizards, and they’re supposed to hate politics, foreigners, and just about everything else, but the Vvardenfell Telvanni are apparently more ambitious and adventurous than most. I don’t know much about them, but they do hire Western mercenaries, and some even rise to higher ranks.>” The Khajiit’s eyes lit up at the ‘wizards’ bit, but then his expression shifted closer to nervous the longer they went on. He looked contemplative for a few moments, then…

“<…that’s all you know about them?>”

“<Yes. I wish I could tell you more.>” The Khajiit sighed through his nose.

“<…where can I join House Redoran?>” Caius’ brows rose.

“<Ald’ruhn. Their councilors are located primarily there. It’s a long way, so I would take the silt strider there if I were you.>” J’hasi nodded, taking a deep breath.

“<Okay… Um…I-I guess I’ll see you later, then.>” The Imperial nodded with a slight smile, giving a wave as the Khajiit headed for the door, picking up his spear (gods he hoped that poor kid would pick up something better) and heading outside.

J’hasi leaned against Caius’ door, resting his head back to stare at the sky for a few moments. It was a lot to take in, and he wasn’t sure he was ready for all of this, but…if it meant he didn’t have to worry about becoming a slave ever again…he’d do it. But first… The Khajiit looked down at the coinpurse, digging around in his clothes to pull out the remains of the other one he had, dumping the gold from the smaller pouch into the bigger.

He was going to get some food first.

Prompt: First time riding a silt strider.

J’hasi’s tail slowly curled at the tip behind him before trotting up the stairs, eyes wide as he looked over the silt strider churring behind a caravaner. The mer smiled, inclining their head at him a little.

“<Good day, stranger. Was there a destination you had in mind? I can take you to Ald’ruhn, Suran, Vivec, or Seyda Neen if you want to ride.>” The Khajiit’s ears pricked, marveling quietly at the sheer size of the strider. This one seemed even bigger than the one in Seyda Neen… He swallowed.

“<How much for a ride to Ald’ruhn?>” he asked, finally tearing his gaze from the silt strider back to the Dunmer who seemed faintly amused.

“<Nineteen drakes.>” J’hasi nodded, shifting a little in place before digging around in his pack, finding the slightly-depleted purse and counting out the needed amount, handing them to the Dunmer with a nervous smile. The mer smiled, stepping over onto the back of the beast.

“<Watch your step, outlander.>” The Khajiit followed, nervously fidgeting on the platform before stepping over, fur rising up on end when the massive insect shifted slightly to accommodate his weight. The Dunmer chuckled.

“<First time on a silt strider, Khajiit?>” J’hasi frowned a little, then nodded, hand briefly going to the edge of the shell to steady himself.

“<Y-yeah.>” The caravaner smiled.

“<Just have a seat and enjoy the view. Take a nap if you really want. Name’s Selvil Sareloth.>” J’hasi nodded again, quickly sitting down on one of the cushions near the rear of the hollowed-out shell. When the mer started fiddling with the sticks up front, the strider shifted, then churred as it started to walk. The Khajiit’s tail curled, shifting over to peer over the side to see movement as the enormous insect started their journey.

Over the course of the first hour of the trip, the Dunmer’s patience was tested as question after question came from the Khajiit, about how the strider knew when to move, when to stop, which way they were going. By the start of the second hour, he’d settled down, tail swishing as he moved from one side to the other, enjoying the heights and sights as they traveled.

By the third hour, Selvil finally had some peace and quiet. J’hasi was fast asleep, curled up in the cushions in the back, lulled to sleep by the gentle rock of the carapace and the calming churrs emanating from the strider.

↕ — a memory that may or may not have happened

It’s not long.

One moment he’s helping repair a net so he and Jeer can catch the dinner in their trap that’s too small to be speared, and the next he’s looking up at a face that he’s sure he’s never seen in his life, yet it seems so familiar. A Dunmer, her face lit up with a smile, laughing. He smiles, leaning in to rest his forehead against hers, hearing his name, Peakstar, between giggles and a friendly scolding for being so late. His response, a murmured apology with a smile, excitement fluttering behind his ribs before they kiss, and he’s left with his ears burning and Jeer nudging him, confusion on their face.

The Khajiit brushes it off as best he can, fingers fumbling over the knots as he tries to forget about it. Those are her memories, not his. While he understands the concept, having the memories kept within the Hist sounded like a better idea, rather than kept with the soul.

When Jeer presses, he doesn’t mention it. It’s a private moment, meant for the them in that time and Peakstar’s lover, not for anyone else.

((€, because why would I ask for happy thoughts when I can watch the little bastard get tormented?))

€ for a bad memory that still haunts them

J’hasi waited anxiously, swallowing when the scent of the Dunmer started making his mouth itch and drool. Her brow cocked, regarding him coolly.

“<…My lord Molag Bal may be able to cure you of your affliction, but I am not privy to my lord’s whims. Speak with the great Molag Bal yourself, blood fiend.>” The Khajiit grimaced, reminded again just how dry his throat felt, and the tempting smell of blood on his spearhead, similar to the scent coming off of the Dunmer who continued to give him a level stare. J’hasi frowned, looking up at the massive statue behind them, an almost-reptilian form with hands gesturing at the dim and warmth of the cavern it was housed in. His ears flicked back a little.

“<Um… How do I know if…? …do I just…?>” he looked at the Dunmer, gesturing vaguely to the carved rock. Their brows furrowed.

“<Speak. If he deems you worth his time, he will answer.>” The Khajiit nodded, swallowing again and grimacing at the dry pull in his throat.

“<Uh…Molag Bal?>” Only silence for a few moments, then…

“<Hello?>” His tail tip twitched, then suddenly the sensation of something slick coiled in his throat, his mouth, making him feel like he was choking. He coughed, then gagged, eyes wide with shock as he stepped back and fell down on a knee, clutching his throat. His eyes widened even more when he felt his mouth and lips move of their own accord, and an unearthly voice growled its way out of his throat.

“<So, you do not enjoy the blood hunger, little leech?>” The Khajiit only had time to suck in a short breath before he gagged again, a quiet whimper coming out of his throat as his ears flicked back, feeling like he was on the brink of suffocating. The sensation of an overbearing presence loomed over him, cowing him to the ground, very much afraid. The next words felt as if they were hissed into his ear.

“<Do you miss the warmth of the sun?>” J’hasi shivered, cringing at what felt like a hand grasping his shoulder, something that could’ve felt comforting in every situation other than this one. He whimpered again, squeezing his eyes shut as they started to tear up at more foreign and unwanted touches over his body.

“” J’hasi’s ears pricked a little, still trembling, still barely able to breathe through the mass in his mouth and throat.

“<You will find my daughter, Molag Grunda, in the dungeon Dubdilla below Mt. Assarnibibi. There she hides with her consort, the lowly atronach Nomeg Gwai. She believes hiding in a sorcerer’s cave will shield her from my eyes.>” A dark chuckle reverberated in his ear, his bones, the Khajiit shivering in response.

“<Foolish girl…>” The voice shifted in tone, but not for the better.

“” The anger made J’hasi’s head hurt, whimpering again as he feared a blow from the Daedric Prince that held him captive, pinning him in place. The anger was still there, but calmed for the moment, dark satisfaction overshadowing it.

“<I cannot have this. Find her, mortal. Kill her and the atronach, so I may deal with them in the Outer Realms. When this is done, return to me, and I will rid you of your unlife. Take care, mortal, for she is powerful. She is still a daughter of Molag Bal.>”

Then, just like that, he was gone. J’hasi sucked in a deep breath, finally able to breathe, still feeling sick and shaky from what had just happened. An awful taste lingered in his mouth, and he felt like he was going to throw up. His hand pressed on the ground, looking up at the Dunmer watching him and the statue looming behind them.

“<You know what you must do. Now go.>” J’hasi shivered, nodding slowly, shakily getting up and grabbing his spear from the floor, uneasy on the thin strip of rock that lead up to the shrine. It was when he reached the stretch of floor at the bottom that he threw up, dropping to his knees and heaving onto the stone, thin acid and spit the only thing coming up from his empty stomach.

It was for a while longer the Khajiit lingered there, shivering and coughing and panting with eyes squeezed shut. When he finally gathered enough strength in his legs to stand, he swiped the back of his hand over his eyes and left, his breath hitching in a sob as he made his way down the fire and magma-lit hallway.

He woke up as if surfacing from dark waters.

J’hasi gasped, scrambling to get upright, panicking when his limbs tangled in furs and blankets. The minimal amount of light filtering in around the crates he’d stacked against the doorway allowed him to see the stone walls and haypiles of his room in the College, rather than cracked ground and… His heart still pounded frantically inside his chest, his rapid panting making his ribs zing as they expanded and contracted. The Khajiit touched his hand over them, closing his eyes.

A dark-red cloud of swirling Blight and ash encroaching over all of Tamriel, following him, tainting the lands and the people, turning them strange and violent, the rapid bubbling of flesh into corpus ravaging their bodies into forms barely recognizable… Flickers shot through his mind, darting like hunted hares into the underbrush, each unsettling and reminding him what he’d been trapped in until he opened his eyes once more, shaking his head to dispel them.

“<Just a dream…>” J’hasi muttered quietly, staring at the pelts gathered at his stomach. He didn’t believe it for a second, but as bits came back to him, he pushed them away, getting up and washing up a little, slipping on something warm before heading for the Arcanaeum.

Imperials didn’t seem to hold much stock in dreams. If only he’d been blessed with that ignorance.

4E 132, Valenwood

He’d only left Silvenar a few days ago, and already he was sure he was lost. J’hasi groaned quietly, rolling up his map with irritation. While Valenwood’s dense forests weren’t something foreign to him, and in fact the footing and local flora and fauna were significantly easier to handle than back home in Black Marsh…he had no idea if he’d gotten turned around or not. Even a source of water could serve as a landmark, but the dirt under his feet was drier than he’d expect out of a rainforest.

The Khajiit slipped his map back into his pack. He’d just have to keep heading south. Even if he wasn’t going far enough east, he’d hit the coast eventually. He couldn’t find the thrice-damned ‘walking city’ of Falinesti, which had been his best hope for sources for a cure, but nooo. It had to traipse off into the heart of the forested province every winter. J’hasi scowled, hopping off the twisted roots he’d been crouched on, his tail giving a sharp, irritated swish behind him. He just had to be patient. From what he’d heard, Southpoint and Haven, whichever one he came across first didn’t take lively strolls every season.

He’d hardly taken more than a few dozen steps before he felt something shift against his ankle. A snap, a sudden blast of pain against the back of his skull, and then his world was suddenly upside down and a lot higher off the ground than before. J’hasi let out a string of curses, wobbling and clutching his head. It was once he pulled his hands away that he saw some blood on his fingers, hissing out another curse before trying to steady himself and his heartbeat. He looked down- well…up, spotting a twisted rope, looking like it was made from vines and strips of bark wrapped around his ankle. He sighed, letting himself hang for a few moments to think. At least no one was around to see him dangling here…

The Khajiit huffed, touching the back of his head again and finding more blood, closing his eyes against the wave of nausea before trying to reach for…

His dagger was missing.

J’hasi looked around, spotting his spear laying on the ground (no surprise), but also the shiny glint of steel on the forest floor far below. He cursed, looking up to check and see if the one strapped to his leg was still there. Thankfully, it was. J’hasi wasn’t quite sure how he’d get down, but cutting the snare was his first priority. He took a few deep breaths, then curled up at the waist, reaching for his dagger. It was when he was nearly there, fingertips brushing the bone hilt that he felt lightheaded, dropping back down, trying not to get sick while wobbling back and forth. He tried again once he was still once more, his claws catching on the bone, his eyes widening with anticipation…only for the dagger to come unsheathed, slip between his fingers, and tumble to the forest floor below.

“<Oh COME ON!>” he snarled, dropping back to hang. His ankle was starting to ache, and now he had nothing but his teeth and claws to cut the rope. J’hasi huffed, unshouldering his pack and looking at it before grimacing.

“<…please stay shut.>” he quietly pleaded with the bag before letting it drop, wincing at the sound of something breaking inside far below. The flush of embarrassment burned under his pelt as he twisted around, grabbing the rope and attempting to climb up it. It was when he’d started to pick at the snare around his ankle that he heard the creak of a bowstring, ears pricking. He looked down to see a Dunmer standing on the roots of a tree, aiming a gleaming ebony arrow right for him.

“<Stay right there, fetcher, and I’ll make this quick.>” J’hasi’s eyes widened, letting go once the arrow was loosed, hearing a curse from the archer before they whipped out a dagger, cutting the line fastened just behind them. The Khajiit cursed, twisting around and landing on all fours, hissing in pain from the shock transferring up his limbs. He lifted up an arm and pressed it to his chest, fairly certain that the unsettling crack he’d heard from it wasn’t a good sign. The Dunmer jumped into the leaf litter with a thump, drawing their bow again.

“<Make this easy on yourself and don’t try to run. I’ll fill you full of arrows before you make the edge of the clearing.>” they growled. J’hasi huffed, looking up at them, the cloth around their mouth and nose leaving only their eyes exposed, hood drawn up against the dappled sunlight that faded and grew through the minimal gaps in the leafy canopy above and the clouds even higher than that. The Khajiit shifted, the mer redoubling their grip on their bow.

“<Last warning, cat.>” J’hasi scowled.

“” The Dunmer chuckled darkly.

“<Oh, it’s not money I’m after. It’s you. You and every other supernatural piece of garbage that walks Tamriel. Now sit still so I can kill you quickly.>” The Khajiit darted for his dagger, managing to grab the bone-handled one and the haft of his spear, only to drop the latter when the arrow fired, sinking into his shoulder as he bolted. J’hasi gasped, still running, another arrow just narrowly missing his leg, a third striking him in the side once he broke into the denser forest.

[Part Two]

17 The farthest distance travelled.

“<Marsh.>” The Khajiit groaned quietly, rolling over and curling up tighter. He felt Jeer-rah’s hand press on his side and shake him.

“<Marsh, wake up.>”

“<M’not gonna talk down ffff-that…Nord again for you…>”

“<No, it’s not that. The boat’s slowing down. I think we’re almost to that place you were talking about.>”

“<Daggerfall?>”

“<Yes.>” J’hasi sighed, rolling onto his back and rubbing his eyes, seeing his friend there, unusually still and quiet as the other passengers got restless and started moving, their fans lowered as watchful eyes flicked from one face to the next. The Khajiit sat up, yawning, before giving a fan a small tug.

“<Relax.>”

“<If I remember right, it was me telling you to relax before we left the seaside city.>”

“<Anvil.>”

“<Ugh… I’m not even going to try and pronounce all that Cyrodilic stuff. It’s all gibberish to me.>”

“<Did you sleep?>” Jeer’s throat puffed a little.

“<No. How could I, with all this…jostling of these smoothskins?>” J’hasi huffed.

“<We aren’t stopping until nightfall.>”

“<I’m aware. You want to get as much distance between us and Cyrodiil, yes?>” The Khajiit didn’t answer, grabbing his pack from where he’d been using it as a pillow, pulling it and his cloak over his shoulders and fastening the latter at his throat. Jeer finally stood, as most of the restless passengers had left for the upper decks. The Saxhleel shifted their bag over their shoulder.

“<It’s not going to be noisy and crowded is it?>” J’hasi sighed, slinging his bow over his torso.

“<It’s Daggerfall, Jeer. It’s a huge port city. Take a wild guess.>” Jeer’s nose wrinkled in distaste.

“<Why did we come to this city again?>” The Khajiit gave his friend a long, level stare.

“<Lots of people, lots of crowds. Another wild guess.>” The Argonian’s lips pursed slightly.

“<Ah…you intend for us to lose any possible Brotherhood members here, then?>” J’hasi double-checked their sleeping spot before pushing himself off the crates onto the floor.

“<Exactly. Now let’s go. Don’t want to be ff-the last ones on f…the boat.>” he muttered, his tail giving a sharp flick before heading for the stairwell to the upper decks, Jeer following shortly behind, spear in hand. They had a lot of ground to cover, and likely with the Dark Brotherhood dogging their every step if they didn’t get moving.

Flash Back (to the future!)

The Khajiit yelped, hitting the ground hard and rolling a little, disoriented and sore before huge jaws lined with sharp teeth opened, a rush of undead air blowing in his face before he could get his spear up. He whacked the creature with the haft, trying to scramble up to back up, get away and maybe use magic instead. The wheezing, rattling inhale seemed to draw the warmth away from the already-chill air, then suddenly exhaled as a frosty blast.

The freezing cold bit at his tail, only barely managing to dodge most of the attack behind a pillar before the dragon followed, jaws wide and lunging right for him. J’hasi only barely managed to get his spear up to catch the inside of the jaws, arms shaking as he tried to keep it at bay. The creature made an odd sound, cocking its head before its jaws tightened.

A crack. Still held.

Another crack. The Khajiit’s tail swished as he kicked at the thing’s face, trying to get it to let go so he could retreat again.

A long, drawn-out creeeeeak…

SNAP.