sieralon – vvardenfellcat

sieralon:

“True, but we aren’t Nords,” the boy replied, absent-mindedly rubbing his hands together as well. “Nords are supposed to take to cold like… like… a fish to swimming? An Altmer to magic? They wouldn’t mind all this cold, or not as much.”

He brightened as they stepped up to the porch. “There are bound to be plenty of Nords inside,” he said. “We could ask one of them!”

The Khajiit’s ears flattened, the corner of his mouth stretching off to the side. This kid really was clueless… He quickly took a few steps ahead, stopping in front of the door before the mer could try to open it.

“Let’s not ask.” The last thing he wanted was for the locals to get defensive around him simply by association, making getting directions to his contract a pain, not to mention making it more difficult for him to get work around here in the future. Plus, he was very much concerned that the mer would not make it past the first ignorant question before a Nord decided to introduce them to their fist. J’hasi grabbed the cold metal ring of the door.

“Let’s just get some food, yeah?” he muttered, pulling it open and feeling the heat of the fire inside wash over him before slipping inside.

☯ Decisions; if that’s too hard to come up with, appearance!

“They stick out way too much in Skyrim. A cheerful Altmer, completely ignorant of the way words sound coming out of their mouth, and a young one at that… Especially with how the Nords are in this province… They’re a perfect target for Nords resentful of the Thalmor, and mer in general. If they don’t have a parent or two watching over them…I’m worried I’ll find them in a gutter battered to bits.”

🍻 ((-waddles in late with extra booze- owo;;;))

He blinked, seeing two of the chipper Altmer before closing his eyes with a groan.

“N-nnnnoo… Jusht one… M’t’old fer more than one…” J’hasi whined, dropping his head to the table with a thunk. It was a few moments of silence before he shifted, cheek sliding against the table before his jaw rested on the wood, his vision coming back together so that there was only one Sieralon. He sighed with relief, grabbing the next bottle.

“Bet’r. Provincshe can’ handle more than one of you…or me… No more d-…dup…uhhhhm…” He hiccuped, looking a little lost, trying to place the word. His Cyrodilic was always the first to go… The Khajiit shook his head.

“No more makin’ more of you. Jusht one. There’sh a good lad…”

“Look on the bright side: you’ve still got me!” ((:3c))

The Khajiit slowly turned from glaring at the city gates to staring at the mer, ears flattened.

“I wasn’ finished with m’drink…” he muttered grumpily.

((Meme thing)) Value is found in something previously deemed worthless.

3E 433, Cyrodiil

“J’hasi. I have something for you.” The Khajiit lifted his head, blinking sleepily from his previous resting place, a sheet of parchment stuck to the side of his face. He brushed it off, yawning and stretching over the table before getting up, rubbing his eyes.

“Mn? S’mthin’ wrong?” The Imperial smiled a little.

“No, no. I just thought that you’d do well to have this.” The Khajiit blinked slowly, finally dropping his gaze from Martin’s face, down to the item in his hands. His ears pricked, glancing up at the Imperial’s face, an encouraging nod of his head prompting J’hasi to pick it up by the top of the sheathe, popping the blade from its casing to look at the gleaming steel held within. The sleep fog dissipated quickly, gaze flicking back up.

“A Blades’ sword?” Martin nodded with a smile.

“Jauffre’s been busy and it’s seemed to have slipped his mind to give you this. I hope you’ll put it to good use.”

…

The too-abrupt cessation of noise made everything seem unreal, the massive drake wreathed in swathes of godsfire stilling far too quickly, pale stone rapidly streaking with rainwater once the heat cut off, leaving the Khajiit feeling…almost frozen its wake. He couldn’t breathe, trembling where he stood in the doorway. He couldn’t… …what had Martin done?

…

J’hasi slowly popped the blade from its sheathe, then pressed it closed, pop…close… His eyes moved from the hilt, to the filigree on the sheathe and hilt, the light catching the gleaming edge of the blade, unused since the day he’d given it to him… The Khajiit’s gaze finally lifted, looking up at the statue in front of him, ears lowered under his hood. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been here. Everything had just been a blur after the battle… Cleaning up the remaining daedra, moving rubble, caring for the wounded and rounding up the dead… He just felt…numb…and lost.

The drake’s head was arched towards the sky, wings flared. In its… Martin’s? …in the final moments…had it been a cry of triumph? Had…had Martin felt victorious for those brief moments after Dagon had been banished, only to be trapped inside a stony tomb? J’hasi bit his lip, breathing hitching a moment before he dropped his gaze back to the blade in his lap. Pop, close, pop…close…

sieralon:

“That’s the spirit!”

Sier motioned as he started making his way to the inn, looking around the desolate town as though it were an amusement park attraction.

“Do you think the Nords live this way on purpose?” he mused aloud. “Logs and mud are fine and all, but there doesn’t seem to be much effort put into design. Is that to help blend in, do you think? Or are they expecting another calamity and don’t want to bother with proper houses?”

The question threw him off as he’d never really thought about putting much more into a house other than keeping the cold out himself. He remembered how the houses in Summerset had looked, or at least the ones in the capital. In comparison, most houses in Skyrim probably looked shabby. The Khajiit kept a little behind the mer as he followed, ears pricked and focused on their gait warily.

“Isn’t it more the point that it keeps the cold out? Anything would look nice if it meant you weren’t stuck freezing outside.” He regretted his words as they reminded him of his fingers, bringing them up to his face to puff warm air over them. His hood wasn’t doing much to keep his ears warm, either. A few puffs of steam later his eyes flicked from Sieralon to the inn just ahead.

“If I was building a house, I wouldn’t bother with the outside if it was this cold all the time. It would probably be buried in snow before long anyways.”

sieralon:

Sier grinned back, apparently unperturbed about the other’s caution. “The food they have here tastes awful,” he said cheerfully, “but that adds to the charm, don’t you think? My name is Sieralon, by the way; nice to meet you!”

“J’hasi. And same.” Was it possible for someone to be so upbeat in this cold, unfriendly province? The Khajiit took a steadying breath, trying to relax a little. They were just a little high-strung, it was fine. Besides, even with their height on him…he felt sure he could handle them should it turn out to be a trap. He swallowed, tail flicking nervously behind him.

“I’m not sure about charm, but I’m sure I’ve had worse.”

★? owo

Send my muse a “★” and they’ll admit their first impressions of your muse.

“Strange. Too friendly for this province, but…good intentions, I suppose. They don’t seem to be dangerous, but they may be a little too naive to be wandering about alone.”

“What you need is a good meal. Come with me! I’m sure there will be something for us both at the inn.”

Who was this kid, and why were they so…familiar with a stranger? The Khajiit was baffled to say the least, but he couldn’t smell any sort of hostility on them. He was hungry…he hadn’t eaten since his hunt earlier, focused on finding the location of his contract, but… J’hasi’s ear twitched, the first reaction since the initial surprise and blank defensiveness that followed. They didn’t seem that dangerous, though the Altmeri accent still rung as something to be wary of.

“Uh…sure…” he muttered. Maybe they’d have an idea of where this Hist-forsaken cave was.

♡? ;u; Could be for Jinn if you can’t think of anything for Sier

J’hasi looked at the Bosmer with a hint of a smile.

“You’re stronger than you think. Not everyone is brave enough to stand their ground against a werewolf.” He left out the ‘or stupid enough’ part out, as the mer had done so without any means of defending himself. He fidgeted a little, unsure what to add. It seemed lacking.