vvcat – Page 92 – vvardenfellcat

ϟ

J’hasi flicked his eyes back down to the cobblestone, hoping Brielle hadn’t caught him staring. He knew full well it was rude, and it tended to make people think you were thinking about robbing them, which was definitely not the case. He just… He couldn’t help but marvel at her red hair, how soft it looked, and the smattering of freckles across her nose and cheekbones. Couple that with how nice she was, how patient she was with him…

She reminded him of Maarzi.

Granted the Breton’s hair wasn’t as dark of a red as Maarzi’s had been, and Brielle’s freckles were more numerous, but it was enough to cause that persistent pull of longing in his chest to resurface after years of neglect.

He turned his head to the right, ears pricking at a nonexistent sound in an attempt to appear at ease, normal, not at all having a crisis while left to the whims of his own thoughts.

‘What makes you think that she’d want to see you again? She’s just helping out an old drunk find his way because of a piss-poor excuse for a map. Once she leads you to the Prawn, she’s going to go her own way and you’ll go yours.’ His ears lowered a fraction of an inch, staring very hard at a patch of grass at the base of a tree to ward off the pricking at the corners of his eyes.

She wouldn’t appreciate him hanging around. Brielle was kind, yes, but she had her own life that didn’t include emotionally-unstable werewolves. She had a nice, normal life with normal problems, normal cares and worries. Skyrim was a big place; it would be highly unlikely that they would run into each other again. Riften wasn’t where he needed to be anyways. He had to keep moving to keep the Thalmor off his tail, had to find that damned College Markus was talking about.

He let his ears relax as if he had lost interest in whatever had made the ‘sound’, turning to face the road ahead, allowing himself to glance at the Breton out of the corner of his eye. He couldn’t form attachments, had to keep himself distanced. Regardless of how much they reminded you of a friend long lost to the grave.

The Khajiit looked back up at the road ahead, pulling his scarf up to cover his ‘cold nose’, feeling a damp warmth soaking into the fabric.

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…

brielleroux:

She, too, had almost held out her hand in greeting. It seems that they had similar thoughts – stopping their progress down the road to shake the other’s hand, something that would take only a few seconds, and then continuing on would be a wasteful and silly thing to do. That didn’t stop her hand from shifting. It brushed across her skirt, sweeping away any patches of dirt that clung to it before fiddling with a sleeve.

“I have lived in Skyrim for a couple of years.” Has it really been that long? It didn’t feel like years at all. “Tell me if I’m wrong,” she continued, “but this is your first time to Skyrim, yes? I hope that you haven’t had much trouble while traveling.”

J’hasi grinned, eyes briefly flicking to the cobblestone just before the worn toes of his boots before his gaze returned to Brielle’s face.

“What gave it away? Y’know, I’ve been trying to get rid of this accent for years. I’ll have to try harder it seems.” he joked lightly, his tail giving a quick flick behind him, his ears cocking. The Khajiit’s grin eased slightly.

“I’ve been here for…almost two weeks, I believe. Maybe three. I haven’t been keeping proper track for the last few days.” His tail twitched, the fingers wrapped around his spear tightening the barest amount, remembering his first day across the border.

“As for trouble…aside from the sudden appearance of dragons, it’s nothing I’m not used to. The Jeralls were more of a problem than Skyrim itself. The mountains are beautiful, but the winds are cold and cut right to the bone.” he said with a shrug, his smile back in full force.

“And aside from a few interruptions, my travels have been relatively unhindered. Outside of being entirely lost, that is. But you’re being incredibly helpful, so I should make up the lost time with little trouble.” His nose twitched at the scent of a deer, his mouth watering before he made a mental note to hunt after his business in Riften. He looked back over to the Breton he easily kept pace with.

“So where did you live before Skyrim?” he asked, his smile softer, genuine curiosity on his features.

6 & 16 :3

6. Do you feel eating in your beast form is cannibalism?

“Of course. If we’re talking about eating people, that is. It’s no different than when an Imperial eats a Khajiit, or vice-versa. I’m not going to go out of my way to kill someone just to eat them, but if they attack me first and there’s an emergency, I’m not going to think twice about it.” The Khajiit frowned, his brow furrowing a little.

“It’s about survival, not wholesale slaughter to satisfy a craving.”

—-

16. How has being a werebeast affected your health?

“Well, I scar a lot easier for one. I get a lot hungrier a lot faster. It’s really hard for me to get drunk… But I also burn through poisons quicker, and I heal faster. I didn’t have to worry about getting sick before I turned, so that didn’t really change. It’s actually because of that that I didn’t think I would get infected in the first place…”

brielleroux:

She couldn’t agree more. Losing your way once is more than enough. A second time would be maddening.

She chuckled. “I hate admitting it, but you are probably right. Some people stop for nothing.” Her eyes glanced down at the map as well, and she wondered where he had gotten it. And, more importantly, who made it? Even she had a better map than this.

“My name is Brielle,” she answered, feet beginning to move down the road. “And you are?”

The Khajiit lifted the haft of his spear off of the ground before he walked alongside the Breton, his tail flicking over the worn cobblestone under their feet.

“M’name’s J’hasi. It’s nice to meet you, Brielle.” he said, a little more at ease now that they were moving rather than having the lass’ full attention on him. He was about to offer his hand for a shake, but thought better of it. It would be awkward to pause just to shake hands, and walking while shaking would be even more so. He settled for glancing around the area, his nose picking up the sweet scents drifting on the breeze.

“So how long have you been in Skyrim?” he asked, feeling his mouth go a little dry at the prospect of small talk, but what else could he do? Walk in complete silence, the awkward tension growing in the air until it felt like it would strangle him? No thank you. At least with attempting small talk he had a chance to get more information about the area, maybe even find something in common that he and the lass could chat about until they reached the Pawned Prawn. His ears pricked, focusing less on the scents and sounds of their surroundings and more on his new acquaintance.

Call of the Beast (J’hasi/Jinn RP)

sieralonapprentice:

Jinn gawped.

He couldn’t do anything else. Every synopsis in his brain appeared to have shut down, overwhelmed by terror—and awe. He’d never dreamed of something so horrible, so loud, so bloodthirsty...

So inspiring.

A panting, slathering creature of nightmares stood before him, and yet the Bosmer saw nothing more than everything he lacked and wanted more than the whole world. The strength to fight as the Stormcloaks; the energy to rip apart anything that stood in his way; the speed and dexterity enough to chase down even the swiftest of prey and swallow it whole…

Its loud, rumbling snarl pulled Jinn out of his reverie. He inched back, slowly, saucer-wide eyes transfixed on the thing’s enormous teeth.

“…Good boy…?” he squeaked.

The fact that the mer wasn’t screaming ‘werewolf!’ or reaching for a weapon seemed to surprise the beast a little. Its ears pricked for a moment before they flicked back once more, its hackles raising, leaning its weight forward. The ‘wolf planted a forepaw on the snow, staining it with blood before it sank out of sight. It’s claws left long marks in the frozen blanket that was draped over the landscape, similar to the marks torn into the hide of the downed deer. It snarled a little louder, its breath visible in the waning moonlight. The beast’s fur bristled even as its fluffed tail curled in close to its legs, its body hunched and curling in on itself.

The werewolf stared, unblinking, growling for a few moments longer, completely still other than the quick lick of its lips over its bared teeth. When the Bosmer didn’t seem to move and just stared right back, albeit in what seemed like fear (from the smell anyways), the ‘wolf let out a short, loud snarl, its jaws snapping shut with a short lunge towards the mer, closing far from their flesh. It stared, waiting for a reaction, a small wince causing the ‘wolf’s eyes to close a little, a shudder rippling through its body before it resumed its wide-eyed staring, uneasily shifting on its paws.

(( ✿ ✍ ☤ ✪ owo; ))

✿ – laugh

Most of the time he shows amusement with a smile or even a small chuckle. He giggles a lot when he’s drunk, and when he does it’s sorta quiet, his teeth bared in a stupid grin, and he seems sorta restrained in his posture: head down and neck arched, his eyes usually closed and his shoulders a little hunched, his limbs pulled in close. Full-blown laughter is incredibly rare. Short barks of laughter can range from sarcastic and cynical to just startled amusement. They’re a little more common than full-blown laughter, but rarer than chuckles. It’s only his amused laughter that he’ll smile in, the rest is just baring his teeth out of irritation or anger.

Overall, the most amusement he’ll express in day-to-day interactions is a chuckle, if that. It’s hard for him to genuinely laugh these days.

—-

✍ – writing style

Depends on what he’s writing. His notes are short, sweet, and to the point, though sometimes they make leaps that most people reading them wouldn’t be able to connect the train of thought. When writing about his experiences, he actually isn’t too bad of a storyteller. His handwriting itself is relatively neat, though it still sorta looks like a scrawl due to lack of proper practice.

—-

☤ – self care/first aid habits

J’hasi’s actually not too bad with mundane, non-magical healing. He won’t be able to help much with any sort of serious organ damage or torn muscle, but broken bones, cuts, concussions, he’s pretty good at patching up. He’s had plenty of practice, on himself and others. He’s not an expert on alchemy by any means, but he knows what plants can help with pain and what can help with healing and preventing infection, and that’s about it. He always has some sort of supplies to patch himself or others up in his pack, and if he doesn’t have them, he’s used to improvising as best as situation allows.

—-

✪ – favourite food/eating habits

J’hasi’s favorite meal of all time is definitely nix-hound, scrib jerky, and ash yams with plenty of sujamma. He likes it when the jerky is allowed to warm up in the juices of the nix-hound meat while it’s cooking so it’s not quite as dry. He’s also fond of a certain silver-colored fish that Sees would catch for him in Black Marsh, though he’s long forgotten the name for it.

❈ – ideal birthday

No acknowledgement of it at all, really. When he was younger (AKA before the Nerevarine prophecies completely flipped his life upside down and gave it a kick for good measure) he used to like it, though he rarely got to do anything for it after being taken from Argonia.

Nowadays though, he would much rather not have anyone know about it at all. He doesn’t like to be reminded that yet another year has passed and he hasn’t aged a day since 3E 427.

⌨ – time-wasting habits

If he’s anxious, brushing/braiding his hair. Otherwise he’ll read, sketch, and/or drink if he deems it appropriate. He gets incredibly antsy if he isn’t doing something useful, so he’ll exhaust any other options to do something helpful or productive before resorting to those options. If he hasn’t slept in a while and he feels it’s a safe enough place, he’ll nap. He’ll do pretty much anything to avoid thinking about himself or his situation, which happens when he’s allowed too much time to sit still and do nothing.

J’hasi Headcanon 001 – Black Marsh Things, Part One: Marsh-Eyes and Breathing Water

Cut since it’s kinda long.

J’hasi has a slight fear of water, despite being primarily raised in Black Marsh. He’s alright with swimming on the surface, even diving down a little, but he’s terrified of swimming in water where he can’t see the bottom, or navigating tight spaces underwater, anything that could risk drowning. He knew growing up that while he looked different from the other hatchlings in the tribe, he thought perhaps he was just a different type of Argonian. He did get teased a little for his strange appearance, but most of the time the other kids were real good about letting him play with them.

He only started to question whether he was an Argonian or not when he found out he couldn’t breathe water. The days leading up to the naming ceremony he was teased and given nicknames like ‘Shrinks-When-Wet’ and ‘Breathes-Water’ (using the word specifically for breathing through the lungs).

It only worsened his doubts about being an Argonian when Sees-In-Mist forbade him from licking the Hist sap during the naming ceremony, as they didn’t know what it would do to him. Sees knew full well J’hasi physically wasn’t Argonian, but they placated him with saying he wasn’t old enough yet, his gills hadn’t grown in just yet and until they did, he wasn’t ready to partake in the Hist. He was, however, allowed to be given a name: Marsh-Eyes.

Even after he was given his name and assured (untruthfully) that he was indeed an Argonian, J’hasi would get angry if anyone tried to tell him he wasn’t. He would fight with anyone who told him different, even biting if they insisted he wasn’t one of the People of the Root. He wouldn’t wash his ‘feathers’, allowing them to cake with mud to look more like scales, even rolling around in mud and leaves after Sees would make him wash it off. He would also smear mud into his mane and spike it up to make it look like a feathery crest.

It wasn’t until after he was kidnapped and enslaved that he realized that everyone who told him he wasn’t an Argonian had been right: he wasn’t. He was a Khajiit. He predictably didn’t take this news well, and once he was given a Khajiiti name from one of the other slaves on his first master’s plantation, he refused to respond to his marsh name, translated or not.

To this day, he’s still conflicted about whether or not to consider Marsh-Eyes his ‘real’ name or not, but as he doesn’t tell anyone that name, he feels that it’s easier (and less conspicuous) to use his Khajiiti name instead.