It had been a while since he had last eaten, wandering in the wastes devoid of game as he was, so the scent of a potential corpse brought hope into the Khajiit’s heart, energy in his step, and drool into his mouth. When J’hasi finally tracked the scent down to a small cave, he found the expanse of grey flesh, the Dunmer obviously dead for only a short while. His eyes flicked up to the cave mouth, listening carefully for a few moments before he relaxed. He crouched down, tail flicking out to rest along the ground as he took the forearm in a firm grip to sniff along the skin.

No poison. It was safe to eat. But his growling stomach urged him to just eat it raw, not to waste time cooking it. He could feel the hot scraping claws of hunger within his belly and it would be quicker relieved the sooner he got something into it.

J’hasi bared his teeth before he sank his fangs down into the meat of the forearm, resistance of the skin holding until a small series of pops and the ivory daggers sank down deep. The Khajiit’s tail tapped on the ground, pulling bites off of the bone, licking his lips free of the cool, coagulated blood oozing out. He preferred it warmer, but he couldn’t be picky. Especially right now, when he had thinned out to the barest of bones with fur draped over, clinging to his ribs like damp clothing. Each bite put him closer to the point that he could make a fire and cook the rest. But not yet. He was too hungry right now.

His tongue rasped against the bone, scraping off the last bits of flesh from the thicker, meatier part of the forearm before he felt something brush against his scarf. J’hasi’s eyes opened, looking down to see it was just the mer’s hand, limp and dead, fingers caught in the folds with his jostling. He returned to licking at the bones before he heard a quiet exhale, and the flesh under his other hand…shifted.

The Khajiit’s eyes snapped up to see the Dunmer sit up and stare eyelessly at him, half of their face ripped off, breath coming out in a smoky, groaning huff. The exhale caused a light in the empty eye sockets to glow, like a puff of breath on an ember. The fingers that were brushing against his scarf fisted in the scarlet cloth, dragging him closer to the bared, broken teeth, a groaning death rattle coming out from the dead…not-dead…UNdead mer.

“Give…it…back…” the mer groaned, breath rattling on the way out as J’hasi was frozen in place, heart racing, terrified but incapable of moving, speaking, only staring in horror at the undead’s face. It lifted him up a little higher by his collar.

“Give…it…BACK! it reiterated, more smoke, the coal-eyes burning brighter as the sickly smell of charred bone and hair filled his nose. The Khajiit whimpered, squeezing his eyes shut in fear before he let out a sharp gasp, clutching at his stomach. He cringed, then cried out, squirming and writhing at the pain inside of his stomach, pain that only grew worse as he felt something squirming, ALIVE, inside of him.

“Mine…” the undead growled airily, J’hasi starting to scream as maggots ate their way out of his stomach, gagging as they came up his throat, choking him and when he coughed, more fell into his lungs and resumed eating. They were eating his throat, his lungs, his insides, the inside of his mouth and his tongue, blood dripping from his teeth as he whimpered and coughed and gagged, tears pouring from his eyes before he couldn’t make any sound at all but pained gasps and torn cries, his vocal cords devoured by the plague of writhing, pulsating, off-white maggots.

He could see the bites of flesh he had eaten dribbling out of his opened stomach cavity, carried by the swarm to be placed and reattached onto the undead’s torn arm, reclaiming its stolen flesh from the bowels of his own. J’hasi let out a small, strangled, screeching cry before blood started dripping from his eyes, the maggots having burrowed into the deeper reaches of his skull and finding new flesh to feast upon. It was agony, and he wanted it to end, to stop feeling the little bastards crawling under his fur, eating him alive from the inside out, and there was nothing he could do but watch through a growing haze of blood as the undead smirked at his suffering.

“You taste good, meat.” it hissed quietly, then the lights in its skull flared, and it bared its teeth before it lunged at him too.

He bolted upright, screaming, clawing frantically at his skin, at his face, tangled up in his blankets before he darted for the nearby shore, diving into the frigid waters and struggling and squirming against the phantom sensations he could still feel outside of the nightmare. He shivered in the freezing water before he finally surfaced, coughing and gagging and shaking. Ghost nickered at him from the shore, seeming concerned before she delicately picked her way over to him and lowered her head to sniff at his mane.

J’hasi realized he was crying, hiccuping sobs breaking from his mouth before he grasped her mane, pulling himself up onto her back, clutching at her soft mane and coarse fur, feeling the warmth rather than the sickly, clammy, cold touch of that undead. Ghost quietly walked back over to the fire, the roiling in the Khajiit’s stomach reaching a peak before he heaved over her side, vomit splattering onto the ground. Ghost waited patiently before she moved on, bringing him to the fireside before slowly settling down onto the ground.

The Khajiit slid off of her back to lay along her side, caught between the pale mare and the fire, still shaking and occasionally freaking out at the tiniest disturbance of his fur, tearing at the spot until either skin or fur was torn, leaking blood. He shuddered, burrowing as close as he could to the enormous horse, burying his nose in her fur to only smell her calm, living, breathing scent of snow, leather, dirt, fur, and grass, all tinged with chill seawater. Ghost nickered quietly again, nosing at his jaw and blowing hot air into his ear.

J’hasi wrapped his arms around her neck, hugging her as close as he could, trying to think of just her scent and warmth as the memory of the dream slowly started to fade in its intensity.

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.

((€, 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.

“<I can obtain the cure for you…but you will help me first.>” 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.

“<I ordered her not to associate with these animals. I told her what the penalty would be for her defiance! Yet she continues to defy me! Willful beast!>” 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.

ϟ

The Khajiit had a slight frown on his face, his eyelids at half-mast as he tried to keep them open, a small hiccup causing him to jolt a little and grimace as the swaying of the ground under him sharply worsened. He was trying to focus on a Dunmer nearby, the mer seemingly caught up in their own thoughts.

J’hasi’s ears laid back a little; the smell of the canal really wasn’t helping his stomach any. Maybe Black-Briar wasn’t as good as it claimed. But that wasn’t the point…what was he doing?

Oh. Right. The Dunmer.

They were heading towards an opening in the stone walls, red banners with blurred symbols on them marking the gap a little better. J’hasi had watched the mer for a while now. Something just didn’t sit right with him; he didn’t like how the mer moved. The Khajiit felt a little apprehension gripping his stomach, anxiety crawling up his throat.

Maybe it was just his body letting him know it had had enough, as he sharply doubled over the railing and emptied his stomach into the canal.

…maybe that’s why it smelled so bad…

Design a site like this with WordPress.com
Get started