THANKS FOR THE ASK!! :DDD – vvardenfellcat

The Tower in Reverse: When has your character’s actions led to disaster?

See: the Red Year

Trouble, unfortunately, seems to follow J’hasi around like a bad smell. I mean he usually tries to do the right thing, but sometimes that causes three or four other side-effects that lead to Baar-Dau crashing into Vivec City and triggering eruptions and death all over the damn place and killing thousands and leaving thousands more homeless and forced from their homeland because they can’t fucking breathe.

Sometimes he just trusts the wrong person and ends up getting someone hurt or killed (never making that mistake again), sometimes he spares a life that he probably…shouldn’t’ve…

Honestly the Red Year is J’hasi’s biggest fuckup to date which is why I keep coming back to it lmao, I mean yeah he killed Dagoth Ur and stopped him from creating a nation of god-influenced hivemind slaves and dead outsiders, yeah he destabilized the entire region religiously and politically when he killed Almalexia because she decided that killing him was a Good Idea to consolidate power and save Morrowind from the Empire in her not-good state of Freaking Out because she’s losing her god powers and J’hasi (oops) made the Heart of Lorkhan go poof somewhere, he doesn’t know where and WHAT THE FUCK, NEREVARINE?

He didn’t kill Vivec, but whatever happened to them, J’hasi has no idea, other than that is sort of his fault whatever did happen to them because he made the Heart of Lorkhan go poof and Vivec was losing their godjuice and now they can’t get it back!

I mean sometimes ‘disaster’ is just a personal or locally-affected thing, like getting double-crossed by someone you thought you could trust, or someone rats out your squad to the Thalmor and gods damn it now you have to do this the hard way. Sometimes ‘disaster’ is blowing up an entire goddamn island.

✿, ♱, ψ?

✿ Would they ever trust dark or wicked magic?

Magic is magic, it’s the caster that he worries about 99% of the time. It’s only when magic requires something that may be morally objectionable (such as using innocent people or something similar to fuel it) that he’d draw the line. And it’s only when he’s truly desperate that he’ll be tempted.

—

♱ What do they think awaits them after death?

Answered! J’hasi knows that if he were to die here and now he’d go straight to Hircine’s Hunting Grounds. If he cured himself, however… He doesn’t know. Would he be dragged to Azura’s realm, Moonshadow, because of his…Nerevarine…whatever? (Can he even be called her champion if he only worshipped her in a different life, or if he’s rejected her? How the hell is that even figured??) Would he go where Khajiit go? He doesn’t know where they go exactly, but…

He’d prefer one of two options: cease to exist entirely, or at least go to the Hist. Or maybe where Maarzi went? If he can’t go lights out entirely, then he’d want to be with Jeer and Maarzi at least. He’s not sure the Hist would take someone who isn’t Argonian.

—

ψ Do they think they deserve punishment for their wrongdoings?

Being alive seems punishment enough, in his opinion. Whether he deserves it or not he shifts on his stance often enough as he overthinks it each time. While he wasn’t really given a choice, he still went along with Azura’s little plan for him, and in a series of events, triggered the Red Year and all the horrors thereafter. He’s done some fairly bad stuff. Maybe not intentional, but he still did it.

There’s reasons why he goes back and forth in his head for hours over this.

💕💝

💕: how does my muse express their feelings? do they do through small but meaningful gestures, or through bold declarations?

Small things. J’hasi’s never been very good with talking about any sort of emotion-y sort of stuff (again…thanks Shadows…), no matter the tongue. So using words to communicate that he feels a certain way is really hard for him, even after Maarzi helped him work through some shit (I mean, she got him started, but since he’s so obstinately focused on one thing at a time, working on one’s mental/emotional hangups kinda drops to the backburner when you primarily travel alone).

Nonverbal forms of letting the person know are his primary, either by physical contact or getting them something that they’ve needed or something that he thinks they’d like, even if it’s just getting them food or an interesting looking thing he found outside. It’s only when he’s in a place he feels safe and can be emotionally open with a person that he’ll actually say anything out loud, or if he’s forced to say something due to circumstances, whether internal or external. He’s also the kind of person who won’t breathe a word about how he feels first. Given how stubborn he is, he likely wouldn’t cave first unless it felt like it was killing him.

—

💝: what would my muse consider a “perfect gift”?

Something meaningful that he can make good use of. He’d be more than happy with any sort of gift from a friend (because wow this person thought of me and got me this!), but since he travels a lot, he’s more sure of how to react when it’s something useful like food, clothing, tools, etc.

He’s a little more awkward with presents that he’s unsure how he can make use of (because they thought of you when they got this, so you’d better use it). He feels really bad when it’s something that he can’t use, because refusing a gift seems unspeakably rude, especially when the person cared about him enough to get him a thing in the first place. He’ll try his damnedest, but let’s be real, delicate ornaments/decorations or furniture isn’t really something he can make use of without taking it apart or damaging it in some way.

❥

❥: what is my muse’s ideal date?

Honestly? They could be hunting or sparring or literally doing anything together (so long as they aren’t in stressful life-or-death situations). Ideal date would probably include food, cuddles, swimming, or other related activities that he and/or his date like to do (the more private the better), in any combination thereof.

Primarily a date for J’hasi would be spending time alone with the person in question, intimacy and what have you varying on how many people are around to see.

Ω = Has the character ever sleep walked before?

Unless you include the weird ‘awake and Sixth House bs’ shit goin’ on here, no. J’hasi moves around a lot in his sleep when he’s got nightmares, but nothing where he gets up and walks around or does anything. So no worries about him wandering off, just keep your distance unless you want a cuddle monster to get you.

☯ 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.”

Q: How does J’hasi feel about slavery, particularly in Morrowind? Would he help the slaves escape from the slave markets? How would he react if a slave approached him and claimed him as his new “master”? ))

Short answer: IT’S BAD/WRONG, NO, NO, NO.

Long answer: the idea of someone owning another living being like a possession is the absolute most degrading thing you can do to another being that thinks and feels just like you, no exceptions. He’s suffered the abuse at not just one, but two masters, and was treated much the same by someone who he once called brother. So the idea makes him feel physically ill and very, very angry.

J’hasi’s bought a lot of slaves simply with intentions to free them, just to get them out of the pens and out of the guards’ sight safely when he could afford it, even though he knew that it wouldn’t solve the root of the problem, as the gold only funded more slaves to be captured. He did break some slaves out of captivity and even found/rescued some when they ran away/were being transported/etc. while in Morrowind, leading them to the Argonian Mission in Ebonheart.

While he wasn’t technically part of the Twin Lamps, he did help them out quite a bit trying to get people out of enslavement and get them home. And while he couldn’t free them all, he tried to help out those he could in any way he could without getting them into trouble if he couldn’t get them out of enslavement outright. He was very happy when slavery was declared illegal, though he still worries about a black market still trading in slaves.

If someone called him ‘master’ he would be very confused, feel very sick to his stomach, and would only say ‘sure, I’m your master’ if he was in public eye back when slavery was still legal just to get them out of sight and free them. The idea of being anyone’s ‘master’ makes him feel just as sick as being treated or called a possession.

[ ☤: 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…>”

☆

Send my character a ☆ to receive a drunken New Year’s greeting!

The Khajiit had taken advantage of the free ale during the New Life Festival until he had been shooed out of the inn for fear of him drinking the rest of the stock. When he nearly bumped into someone that smelled very familiar he beamed, giggling before giving them a hug.

“Hhhhhiiii Dusht… H-*HIC*-hhhhhappy New Life Feshtival…” he slurred happily, tail curling behind him. The thought that they’d likely be a little disapproving of his inebriated state while he was their patient didn’t even cross his mind, too busy purring away.

Have you ever chased your own tail?

how drunk can you get my muse? send me “have you ever”s and for every one my muse has done, they’ll take a drink.

J’hasi scowled a little, then twisted open the cork on the next bottle of mead in front of him.

“When you’re little and you don’t know any better, you’ll chase anything.” he grumbled, pointing at the stranger with the cork before drinking down the amber liquid with ease.