poor bastard – vvardenfellcat

6 and 21

6. Did they feel rejection or affection as a child?

I could’ve sworn I’ve answered this one before, but I can’t find it in my asks, so…maybe I didn’t?? Anyways.

Mostly affection. J’hasi was a little weird in comparison to the other kids in the tribe, but kids are curious and accepting generally at that age, so no worries. Some of the adults were a little ehh with him, but Sees put a stop to that fairly early. The first incident of rejection I can think of is when J’hasi first met Shadows, but that’s…sort of a weird thing altogether. During his enslavement, the others in bondage with him were caring towards him and Shadows, and thus J’hasi didn’t have incidents with rejection again until his second master bit it and he was left to the streets to fend for himself.

So…both?

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21. What are your character’s manners like? What is their type of hero? Whom do they hate?

Answered! TL;DR he’s polite unless you’re rude to him, then fuck you, he likes Robin Hood/Grey Fox -esque heroes, and hates rich people that benefit off the backs of the poor.

1&4

1: Origins! How did you come up with the concept for your OC?

Oddly enough, J’hasi was originally a side character for my Argonian character, Moro (who eventually ended up becoming Stalks-In-Shadows). I didn’t have much of a story for them initially, as Moro was my first TES character, I had no idea of the lore, etc, etc…

Oblivion was when J’hasi finally started getting development, though part of him was developed from the parts I scrapped from Moro (like his birthsign/spear use/general temperament). I went back and forth between Morrowind and Oblivion to further develop him and his story and eventually J’hasi became the ‘main’ character while Shadows became the second. I don’t think J’hasi really had a concept to begin with other than ‘Shadows’ bond-brother’.

TL;DR J’hasi’s the result of character development, scrapping my first TES chara, and a wip of lore larnin’

¯_(ツ)_/¯

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

Answered!

“Tell me, Moon and Stars, how do you feel, knowing you singlehandedly destroyed the home of thousands of Dunmer men and women during the Red Year?”

J’hasi’s ears flicked back, hurt laced in the lines of his face before he let out a watery snarl, the effect of his bared fangs ruined as, despite his best intentions to hide his emotions, tears came to soak into his fur.

”SHUT THE FUCK UP! I KNOW, ALRIGHT?!” His voice broke, his jaw shaking, teeth bared in the emotional pain ripping through him, leaving his hands to tremble before he gripped the cloth over his stomach. The Khajiit’s shoulders hunched, silent save for his shaky breathing before he pulled his hood down over his face to hide the raw pain on his face. The wrecked sound of his voice gave it all away anyway as he whimpered quietly, backing up to a tree and sliding down the trunk to hit the ground with a thump.

“I-I kn-know I f-fucked up… I didn’t know th-that saving the people of Vvardenfell, and probably Morrowind as well would lead to that. Azura, Uriel Septim VII, Caius, Nibani, all of them…they all t-told me that it was my destiny, my purpose. I h-had to kill Dagoth Ur, so he couldn’t take over Morrowind with his soul sickness and k-kill all the outlanders, enslaving the Dunmer with that foul…divine disease… But to kill him, I had t-to also destroy the Heart. The Heart and Kagrenac’s Tools were the whole reason that…Nerevar, I, whatever d-died in the fucking first place!” Ragged breathing was the only sound coming from his hunched form for a few moments, his knees drawing even closer to his chest. The tendons of his hands stood out even with his fur as he gripped the cloth over his knees.

“V-Vvardenf-fell was my home, too… H-had I known…what was going to happen… …i-it wouldn’t’ve mattered a-anyway… The H-Heart had to go, and… Hist, please, what could’ve I done…? There…there had to’ve been a way…” J’hasi’s arms folded over his knees, burying his face in them to let out a broken sob, the sounds of his crying and the quiet, broken questions he posed to himself muffled by the cloth. The pale stranger was all but forgotten, the Khajiit too caught up in his misery to even realize what they were.