[A drabble in which my muse is forced to fight together with someone they hate.]

“What the hell did you do, Darg?!” J’hasi thrust his spear forward, catching the bandit under their ribcage, blood quickly blossoming out from the wound to soak into the cloth and leather, then drip onto the sand. Moments later another bandit swung at him, the darker Khajiit dodging the heavy head of a warhammer and falling back to his hands, then springing back onto his feet, spear still dripping. The tawny alfiq sprang onto the one with the hammer, claws sinking in before the light of a spell lit up the smaller Khajiit’s paws, and he sprang off to the sand, the bandit turning on their friends with vicious fervor.

‘This one made them a very generous offer. They refused, so this one took what was needed and left.’

“You stole from them?!” J’hasi let out a hiss of frustration between bared teeth, going after the last unoccupied member of the small group that had ambushed them, the one currently trying to shoot Windviper.

‘This one does not understand what you mean by stealing. It was there, this one needed it.’

“It wasn’t yours, Darg! By the Hist, you’re the worst this thrice-forsaken sandpit has to offer!” he snapped, throwing his dagger to strike the bandit in the back with a thump, arrow flying off in an awkward arc in another direction. J’hasi looked back at the others being struck again and again with the spiked face of the warhammer with a wince, Dargzalzi trotting towards him and sitting down, lifting a paw up to delicately lick the blood away.

‘This one has gotten what he came here for. Get that…ugh…black monster over here so we can l-HEY!’ J’hasi growled faintly, lifting the alfiq by the scruff to look him directly in the eye.

“Shut. Up. You’ve slowed us down for…whatever the hell you were after. What was so damn important you had to make us lose half a day’s worth of travel?” Dargzalzi’s eyes darted from J’hasi’s to the bandit still frenzied, beating the remaining group members to bloody pulps.

‘…this one needed a…bit of a pick-me-up… And a crystal. It was very important.’ J’hasi’s muzzle wrinkled.

“Sugar and a rock? Really?” Darg’s fur puffed, legs splaying out in indignant protest.

‘This one is suffering from the shakes, and the crystal is very important for his research.’ The darker Khajiit’s face split into a humorless smile.

“Well, that makes everything right as rain then.” he hissed, then sharply whistled for Windviper.

“In fact, I’m so happy that you wasted my gods-damned time, there’s a cozy saddlebag with your name on it…”

Hair [Fur?]

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No shortage of that here. J’hasi’s hair can get ridiculously long, as he doesn’t like cutting it very often. It usually runs from midback to past his waistline. Currently at the college, it’s in need of a cut very soon, as it’s well past his waist. He usually ties it back or keeps it tucked inside of his clothes if he’s traveling or if he’s in class (especially if it’s a class with a certain someone, or a class involving fire). His mane is a darker grey/blackish color, and his fur is made up of dark/light greys, some blacks, and bits of white. It grows fairly quickly, which is good considering a lot of time while on contracts, people seem to really gravitate towards setting him on fire.

Depending on how stressed he is, his hair can run from super soft and fluffy to a bit rough. When he’s in a relatively safe living situation he can give some time to brushing it nicely, but when he’s frequently drinking and not caring for it properly, it’s less pleasant to touch. Similar story with his fur. Far as management goes, it’s alright. Usually it likes to stick up every which way, but given some brushing and some water, it’ll behave fairly well for the general look he has. Neat and orderly appearances are not something J’hasi can pull off, hair being a big reason.

Styling is pretty simple: brush it, then either tie it back in a tail of some sort, or braid it. As braiding takes time, it’s something he doesn’t do often, unless he knows it’s going to be windy and he doesn’t want to feel hair against his back under his clothes. Back when he traveled with others and it was of suitable length, he’d let them do it for him if they felt like it. Strands too short to fit into the tie lengths will eventually rebel and stick up whichever way they like, but as J’hasi doesn’t often look into a mirror and they don’t really get in his face, it doesn’t bother him.

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