#faecanons

[sewnelf]

7?

7: Are there any common sexual and/or romantic actions that you dislike? What do you appreciate?

“Oh, I know how to answer this one. I hate talking… hated, I suppose. You save the talk for before sex, and then afterward. And I don’t know what it is about making out with your partner in public that grosses me out: the action or the blatant disregard for anybody else’s thoughts on you tongue-fucking your girlfriend in the middle of the room.

But I do like having my ears played with, a little. That’s a thing for most mer, but I’ve been told it’s cute when someone touches them and they twitch. I like that, too. I like women acknowledging how cute I am. I say women specifically because when men do it, and if they mean it as a come-on instead of a compliment (you can tell!), it’s weird having to turn them down.

I am incredibly cute, though. Don’t deny it.”

[sewnelf]

3, 4, 10

3: How do you feel about your body?

“I feel like it suits me. I don’t think I was ever insecure about it, and I haven’t started feeling like that yet. Though I’ve been mistaken for a man from behind, and from the front on occasion, I doubt I’ll be running into any trouble with it.”

4: Do you have any sexual insecurities?

“I’m not particularly… gifted, I don’t think. While I don’t intend on sleeping with anybody for the time being, I’m not sure I would meet the usual expectations that people are bound to have.”

10: If you are sexually active, what has been the longest that you have gone without sex? If not, is sexual activity something you want in the future?

“…I don’t know. Really, I don’t know. And it’s not in the case of the latter, as I have the same needs as many other women, I just do not know how long it’s been since the last time I was in bed with anybody. It could be anywhere from years to centuries. I don’t know how long I lived, or the last time I had sex before I died, so I can’t tell you.”

[sewnelf]

{How to Care For} DO NOT RAISE FROM THE DEAD. I REPEAT, DO NOT RAISE FROM THE DEAD.

[[ACCURATE]]

[sewnelf]

What does Faenil miss most about her childhood?

[[she misses how plain it was, really. five-person family, hardly anyone around for miles... it was lonely, certainly -- especially when her oldest brother left -- but Faenil wouldn’t have traded that for anything. she’s always kind of liked being alone like that.]]

[sewnelf]

Recollections I - Still

When Faenil woke up, she was still exhausted. Aching, she propped herself up with her hands behind her, and feeling quite like she was dreaming. There was no one around, oddly enough, and it was... warm. 

Something nudged her back down, and when the Falmer turned her head there was another elf, a Bosmer with bronze-green skin and sad black eyes, looking at her but... away from her, too.

“Irwaen...?”

Somehow she knew that was the strange elf’s name. That... she? Irwaen looked like a she. She was important to her. There was a smaller one too, climbing clumsily onto the bed, that looked quite a bit like Faenil, but those inky eyes and that tiny nose, the tan-tinged skin, those were Irwaen’s Bosmeri traits. The child nestled herself in Faenil’s arms, face buried in her chest.

Something was wrong. There was an air of melancholy, of self-directed blame, of emptiness that seized the mer in a vice-like grip and tightened her throat.

She became aware of the stench of blood.

The little girl, their daughter, sniffled and dampened the front of her mother’s nightgown with crying. 

She became aware of the lifeless look on her wife’s face.

“It didn’t...”

Irwaen’s voice was hoarse, and her eyes did not meet Faenil’s. “He didn’t.”

“...I want to see him.”

“You don’t.”

Faenil woke with a start, and tears in her eyes. 

As she wiped at her face with a sleeve, part of her wished she could remain in the dark about her life before death.

The evening before, she’d been completely oblivious to the fact that she’d had a family, and all she could want for now was to go back to that evening, and never fall asleep.

[sewnelf]

Caprice

ca·price kəˈprēs noun a sudden and unaccountable change of mood or behavior.

Occasional pain was no stranger to Faenil, whether it be in her joints, or bones, or head. What puzzled her about the headaches, though, was that when they left and she was aware again, some sense of familiarity about the world had returned to her.

This one was the worst by far, starting with a jolt up her spine that stopped her midway of grabbing her cane, and curiously ending (and more so, worsening) at her heart. Clutching at her chest, Faenil tried to make sense of the situation -- she felt like she was dying, and could swear she felt something hot and disgustingly sticky on her hand.

Upon inspection, it was perfectly clean.

She fell to the floor, clueless about her situation, and in far too much pain to care, really. After what felt like hours (but was in fact five minutes) the snow elf understood that she’d been calling out, hoarsely, for Fienelef.

Why Fi? What did she have to do with this? 

Nethyn had said she’d been injured, and that was why she remembered little more than her name upon waking up that day. Was this a memory of that injury? 

Wouldn’t it simply be hurting her head, though?

Her vision swam, pain-induced hallucinations began forming -- starting with something long, thin, and feathered jutting out from her chest.

I’ve been shot...? That’s an arrow, that’s...

Something about it burned.

In her empty hands Faenil could feel something hard, cold, and in her foggy vision she could just barely make out Fienelef’s shape and red hair.

Did you do this, Fi?

Then suddenly Fi had the thing that was in her hand -- it was purple, she was doing something with it... and the pain faded. 

When she could get up again, she became aware of angry tears running down her cheeks, and the fact that there were no memories to be relived after that. Not chronologically, anyway.

Fienelef had done something much worse than killing her. That thing she knew she’d hated most before losing her memory -- or before her death, more like -- was what Fi had made her into.

Something had to be done about this.