Hello✨, my name is Juno {she/her} and this is my mess of a blog. I Post about whatever, whenever because I have no sense of organization.
(serious Skyrim content is mostly on @matri4rch)
My asks and dms are always open and I answer everything that comes through. ❤️ So feel free to send anything, no matter how damaging to the psyche it may be.
Snippet I've been working on UwU, any and all errors I blame on the fact I'm on mobile ;-;
Snippet ↓
The woman moved swiftly across the room, her footsteps silent as she pressed the balls of her feet against the wooden flooring, keeping her heels always off the ground. She moved with grace and flawless calculation towards the wine cabinet on the wall, where she browsed all the types of wines, from simple to spiced, and selected a unique bottle from the selection. A simple hickory-toned bottle with a faded label, sealed perfectly with aged wax.
Tullius watched the ritual from behind his book, analyzing her every feature to determine whether his suspicions of her being a spy had any grounds.
Her skin glimmered with diamonds of sweat, and her hands, while delicate and precise, still trembled slightly as she removed the cork from the bottle, and poured the blood-like liquid into a goblet.
Tullius couldn't help but drift away and imagine how similar the woman looked to Ulfric's wife, so quiet, so peaceful despite being neck deep between two factions of a civil war. The more he thought of it, the more he could see her standing there, so refined, so beautiful.
"She would make quite the governess." He thought.
Tullius tensed, clearing his throat as he saw her returning to his side. Forcibly removing every thought of his enemy's wife out of his mind. After all, it would be unbecoming of him to even have such treacherous thoughts on his mind.
Without uttering so much as a word, he gently took the goblet from her hands and lifted it to his lips. Nodding in appreciation as he tasted the wine. A smooth, aged colovian wine, something he might have enjoyed back in the summer afternoons of Skingrad had he not been drafted all those years ago.
At least, her apparent knowledge of wines pinned her as an imperial, or a very knowledgeable courtesan. Even then, she was practically mute, a horrible flaw for someone who was more than likely trying to pry information out of him.
Perhaps he was merely being paranoid, and what he pinned as suspicious behavior was simply the usual nervousness of someone in his presence.
The courtesan bowed and removed herself from his side, her footwork still light, but rushed.
She sat herself on a small chaise lounge chair on the opposite side of his desk, keeping the desk and plenty of books between the two. Her face moving to look at anything in the room but the general.
Tullius smirked a little, hiding his expression behind a sip of his cup.
Both of them remained quiet for the rest of their companionship, the sounds of a quill brushing against parchment and the crackling of fire the only sound between them.
Tullius rested his elbows against the wood of his desk, letting out a small groan at the thought of drafting another letter or report. Putting his quill and parchment aside, he lifted his gaze, resting his eyes from the blank pages with the sight of the Altmeri architecture around him.
Soon enough his sight fell over the small figure of his evening companion. Resting peacefully on the same couch she'd been on for the night, quietly fixing the golden adornments on her hair.
His eyes scanned over her figure, plump and soft, the body of a woman who had never spent a day towing at a field or training under a Cyrodiil sun. Perhaps for that night, only that night, he could allow himself to indulge in his mortal desires. Perhaps, for one minute, he could indulge his deepest thoughts, and deal with the silence in his heart left behind by the Lady of Windhelm. Perhaps that girl could be a replacement for her.
"Meretrix." Tullius called gently.
The woman lifted her head from where it rested, and rose from her lounging, slowly moving to attend the general. She stood by his side, her skin still glimmering with sweat as she looked over his tired expression, and placed a soothing hand on the back of his neck, gently playing with the collar of his shirt.
The general chuckled, warmth creeping up his cheeks. He kissed her wrist, his steel eyes looking up at her own. His lips moved down to kiss her hand, slowly moving down each finger, until it stopped over a scar where a wedding ring once sat.