Fantastic Mr. Fox

If it weren't for bad luck, I would have no luck at all. It's a curse; I swear it. IND. 4E Skyrim OC | Mod is 18+ NSFW | No AU/Xover

[stainedglassmenagerie]

What's ur favorite kind of penis? Long? Fat? Curved?

Ex – excuse you? 

What a strange, disturbing thing to ask a person. What is my favorite kind of – ? What, what sort of question is that?

I’m not even sure how I would answer it, either. Does the kind really matter when it belongs to someone you enjoy being intimate with? Going back in my considerable memory I, I can’t even recall a particular kind I favored above the others. You can have the nicest prick in the world and still use it terribly. 

So, I… don’t know! I don’t know. 

[stainedglassmenagerie]

If you're cursed to have bad luck, does that extend to getting lucky?

I haven’t noticed much correlation between the two, actually. I think that my, my dismal fortune only extends to things that matter.

Besides, have you seen Neht? The winds must be changing, because I am the luckiest man alive. 

[stainedglassmenagerie]

How long has it been since you had sex?

Oh, I, I don’t know if I feel very comfortable answering that. I doubt it’s anybody’s business but mine, for one, and for two, what does it matter if it’s been…? 

Oh, Y’ffre, it’s been ages. 

It’s not as if I couldn’t get it if I wanted it. Lately, I’ve, I’ve been a bit preoccupied. There is a certain someone who holds my attention, and if I’m going to be having sex anytime soon I think, I think I would like it to be with that person.

[stainedglassmenagerie]

If you eat something as a fox, where does it go when you transform back into a mer?

I, I suppose I digest it? That’s actually an interesting question! I’m not well-versed in anatomy or physiology but I have to assume it goes somewhere. Obviously, once it’s passed through my system it, well, it passes, but that’s the same way for everyone. Truth be told, I don’t eat much differently between the two. Maybe it’s got something to do with my carnivorous upbringing in Valenwood, but I imagine my body is just used to it by now. I’m afraid I can’t explain it any better than that. 

[cookingforsithis-deactivated202]

ITS TMI TIRDAS! Come, fluster my muse with nosy questions!

@bookofalmsivi‘s grand meme ;D Come bug JP

[stainedglassmenagerie]

In the Meadow

[stainedglassmenagerie]

@bookofalmsivi:

There’s really no reason for his nerves to be aflame and aflutter like this.  Lirelye is Lirelye, not some fearsome beast with snapping jaws and claws like knives on every finger; a man, only a man, and nothing more.  He can handle this.  He is Neht Orphelin, wizard, occasional Nerevarine, and he can do this.

The thought crosses the Telvanni’s mind that maybe he’s just as nervous as he is and even though he’s still certain that he’ll botch everything up, the thought is a little comforting.

“I could say the same thing about you.  I’m saying it now.”

The lily is beautiful and Neht, ever the mad botanist, is already thinking of ways to preserve it forever, to clone it and have a whole host of lilies in his garden come spring, but more important than the flower, lovely as it might be and it is, Lirelye is holding his hand and suddenly few other things in the world matter right now.

“Oh, no, not at all, it was grand!  The Rift is so lovely this time of year and, well…traveling is always easier when you’re excited to see someone, isn’t it?  I, ah, I missed you too.”

“I don’t mind traveling a little more if you don’t.  I’d love to see your home; I’m sure it’s as charming as you.”

“Flatterer!” Lirelye accuses. Oh, but he adores the attention, especially from Neht; he’s almost too good to be true, it seems. Of course, Lirelye isn’t exactly an idealist, and he manages not to put Neht on (too high) a pedestal. “Fortunately,” he playfully continues, “you aren’t wrong. I do keep a charming home.” He glances down a moment to affectionately toy with Neht’s fingers. What lovely hands, he thinks, drawing his thumb down a long crease near the top of the Dunmer’s palm.

“I’ve a whole host of things planned,” he says brightly, looking about to make sure the path is clear before they cross towards the city gate. “Picnics, scenic walks, stargazing. If you like that sort of thing, at least. I don’t, I don’t suppose you could turn that green thumb to helping me with my garden? It could use that brilliant touch of yours.” He smiles. “Would you like to make something out of glass with me?”

[stainedglassmenagerie]

coldwindscutclean:

I just…it feels good.

I missed this side of you. How should we celebrate?

[stainedglassmenagerie]

coldwindscutclean:

Good. Good.

…I thought I might die, you know. Not dying feels fantastic.

I imagine so! Look at how well a smile suits you. 

[stainedglassmenagerie]

coldwindscutclean:

Did you make out okay? [She nuzzles into his shoulder.]

Just fine, in fact. No one tried to kill me. 

[stainedglassmenagerie]

coldwindscutclean:

I won!

[She’s a little beat up. Her only eye is still healing, there’s a cut on her lip, and various cuts and marks across her body, many hidden by clothing, but she looks thrilled. She wraps her arms around Lirelye in glee that hasn’t been seen from her in quite some time.]

I killed them all!

Oh -- [He is expecting neither her glee nor her affection, but he recovers quickly and gives her back a few gentle pats.] 

I’m glad that you were able to experience a sort of catharsis. It can be deeply rewarding.

[stainedglassmenagerie]

coldwindscutclean replied to your post: I could sleep a thousand years after the night I...

I fought. I fought a lot.

It looks like you’ve come out the other side no worse for wear. 

[stainedglassmenagerie]

I could sleep a thousand years after the night I just had. And, even so, I feel awakened. It isn’t often, any longer, that I feel something so deeply in my bones and in my blood. 

[priestess-of-kynareth]

A Stop Along the Road

[stainedglassmenagerie]

priestess-of-kynareth:

“It doesn’t matter what I thought,”  She groans as she hobbles inside, grateful for his hospitality.  “I only need to stay for a little while,”  She offers at once.  “I won’t be any trouble at all.  I just need a place to rest for a couple hours.”  She’s exhausted.  She’s been on her feet all day, and even so, she’s only made it about forty miles out of Riften.  Walking to Falkreath feels impossible.

“He’s dying,”  She breathes, and without asking, drops down into a chair.  She hopes he doesn’t mind.  Her feet ache, her body is sore, and there’s a hot, sick headache pounding a rhythm behind her eyes.  “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to impose.  But he’s dying and the letter said I needed to come, that it might help him..”  She starts to dig around in her satchel, but gives up and shuts her eyes instead.

“Just a few hours,”  She murmurs.  “Just a few.  Then I’ll be gone.  I’ll be alright.”

“Who’s dying?” Does she intend to waltz in here and give him a heart attack? He’s never seen the poor girl this out of sorts before. Lirelye is frozen for a moment with indecision, but given her current state, he is more or less inclined in one direction. With a forceful sigh, he steels himself, and sets to work.  “You give me these,” he snatches her boots from her and sets them on the counter to be dealt with later. “A few hours! Not on your life, dear girl. If you are going to barge in and demand my hospitality then you do not get to choose the manner in which I give it. I have to insist that you stay until the sun is up,” he says decisively.

First, he finds he washbasin, and with his own hands heats the water that he fills it with. He stirs in a good amount of salt, and sets the basin before her on the floor.  “Stick your feet in here. It’ll help the blisters and get some of that dirt out.” he doesn’t suppose he needs to explain this to a healer, but it’s better to be safe. “It’s, it’s going to hurt,” he adds. “Let me find something to dress them with afterwards...” he pauses to glance about, trying to remember where he put them. “Will you tell me what’s got you worked up?” 

[priestess-of-kynareth]

A Stop Along the Road

His home is the only one she knows of between Riften and Falkreath.  It’s been all day on the road, and part of the night as well.     Her feet are covered in blisters from her boots, hanging limply from her right hand.  Although she packed light, her pack feels as though it weighs a ton by the time she drags herself to Lirelye’s door and knocks.  Just a few hours more, and then she can travel again.  She must travel again.  He needs her, and she won’t disappoint.

“Lirelye?”  She calls softly through the door, soft and tired.  She hopes she isn’t waking him.  “Do you have a moment?  I know it’s late.  I’m sorry.”

[stainedglassmenagerie]

He hears footsteps in the grass long before she arrives at his door. Alert to a new presence so late in the evening, Lirelye starts, and he scrambles down from the loft, tripping on the ladder rungs as he goes and taking a tumble. He hits the floor heavily on his knees, hissing, and curses under his breath in Bosmeris. By then, his uninvited guest has reached the door. Lirelye’s heart hammers in mild panic, but the soothing voice that follows offers some relief.  Hurried, he throws open the door. “Diana?” He balks. He gives her a quick once-over , especially concerned with her filthy and blistered feet.  “What are you doing in the forest at this hour? You could have been hurt, or worse! Come inside, now. Gods, what are you thinking? What’s the matter? Has something happened?” 

[stainedglassmenagerie]

As a werefox, do other weres give you trouble? How do you deal with werebeasts who might be much larger than you?

Yes, yes, I am on the smaller side compared to other werebeasts. During my considerably lengthy time under Hircine’s thumb, I’ve developed a number of ways to deal with territorial disputes or unpleasant run-ins with my larger kin. For one, it helps to be clever. That’s an attribute that people assign to foxes. For two – and this is probably not hard due to that cleverness – it helps to have friends in high places. And I do mean that height-wise. As much as I favor my solitude, I’ve made it a point to prove myself either an asset or a friend (or both) to those who might otherwise cause trouble for me. Coupled with vigorous territory markers and a semi-nightly patrol of said territory, I rarely run into problems these days. In short, I think on my feet. It can be tricky to strike a balance between nonthreatening submissiveness and being unwilling to compromise the claim I have to this land, but somehow, for decades, I’ve managed. 

[stainedglassmenagerie]

In the Meadow

[stainedglassmenagerie]

bookofalmsivi:

In the course of the last hour, Neht has convinced himself yet again that not only is he an unmitigated disaster in general who makes poor life choices and should never have left the temple for the turbulent outside world, he has also managed to botch up all possibility of this visit going well.  He shouldn’t have worn the green silk robes.  Earlier in the day, Neht thought they were charming, wonderful, and altogether perfect, but now he has decided that as a priest, he really ought not be seen out of his clerical robes if it can be avoided (though by no means has a he taken a vow to wear nothing but his grey-and-red priestly garments, nor has he gone without other people seeing the occasionally gaudy robes he lounges around the house in), and moreover, everyone who sees him will think him nothing but a vain and conceited creature for having the audacity to wear something so fine.  

Everyone’s looking at the tiny smudge of eye paint he has on, Neht’s certain.  He didn’t do enough with his hair.  He did too much with his hair.  He should have brought a bouquet of roses in every color.  He should have brought cheerful tulips.  He can’t decide if the dab of perfume is too light or much too heavy.  He’s pretty sure he’s picked out such a disastrously awful pair of stockings that it will surely ruin his entire future.

Neht is contemplating the myriad little ways he is ruining his life when he sees him.  Lirelye.  He should be overjoyed (and he is happy to see him but it’s hard to focus on that when his nerves turn all jittery like this) but to be entirely honest, Neht wants very badly to lock himself up in his tower where no one will ever see him again.  Objectively, he knows that there’s no real reason for him to be so nervous (he’s well aware of his terrible habit of building a thousand terrible scenarios in his head) but even still, he likes Lirelye and that’s utterly terrifying.

There’s one thing to do then: stroll up like he’s a suave, self-confident person whose nerves absolutely aren’t fluttering all over the place.

“Lirelye?”

“Neht.” A sunny smile lights up Lirelye’s eyes as he’s approached. What a vision in green. Compared to the number of letters they’ve exchanged and the compilation quickly filling their journal, they have had few physical visits, and they haven’t yet lost their novelty. Lirelye’s stomach is turning over and over and he decide if it’s worse or better when he notices how good Neht smells. Even if the perfume is a touch too much for the Bosmer’s sensitive nose. “You look stunning,” he glances down at the lily he’s still twirling in his fingers. Nervously, he reaches down to grasp Neht’s hand, pulling so that he can hold their hands between them. He affectionately presses the lily stem into the Dunmer’s hand. “I’ve -- “ he glances up. Then back down. But he has to meet Neht’s eyes, so he tries again. “I’ve missed you. Your trip wasn’t a trying one, I hope?” He asks. He’s come prepared this time; he has thought out at least half a dozen different plans for Neht’s stay, including several different options for today alone, depending on exactly how Neht might be feeling. “My home is a bit of a trip west,” he begins, blowing a lock of dark hair out of his eyes with a huff and a little toss of his head. “We can get there just before dark this evening or we can spend a day here in the city if you feel like you’ve traveled too much. I, I would be happy with anything.” 

[stainedglassmenagerie]

In the Meadow

The weather is stunning today. More so than usual, he’d like to think, but more honestly it might be because Neht’s coming. It’s breezy and mild and bright, and if the weather holds like this all week it’s bound to make a good impression on Neht. The fact that it has been difficult for him to take himself away from the meadow, lately, only makes him more excited. 

He’s not entirely certain when Neht is going to get in, today, and he worries he might have bought his flower a little too early. It would be a terrible shame for it to start wilting before Neht even gets here. The pink and white lily is doing well enough thus far; Lirelye twirls it daintily in his fingers and imagines it might look beautiful in Neht’s hair. He smiles softly as he walks along the outer edge of the marketplace, debating whether he has time to walk down to the lake or if he should just stay put and wait.