#madaj jo

[firsandfletchings]

♡

“I like her. Got a good sense of humor.” Tristan grins at the memory of her proposition to fool the horse renter. 

[bookofalmsivi]

♡

[Oh no, no, no.  That cat is too precious.  That she might in fact actually be Khajiiti does not occur to Neht even though he really ought to know better.]

Ahhh, look at you!  Oh my goodness, oh dear, that fur, that tail.  What a pretty lady!  And oh, someone made you little pouches, that is darling, how absolutely darling.  Ugh, so cute and not my cat.  Not my cat.  I have enough cats; I can’t steal this cat.  Damn.

[firsandfletchings]

madaj-jo:

Mac, thoroughly done with the assumptions made by Skyrim’s inhabitants for one day, stops, holds stock-still for a moment, then turns around to face the man who’s approached her, frowning as deeply as she possibly can.

“Madaj puts on her own clothing, like all people!” She announces, as loudly as possible, intending to shame this ignorant individual as harshly as possible. (an intention that would no doubt be entirely lost on any other two-legged passerby in their now boring shock.) “Do not snap these fingers at her! She is not a kitten!”

“Woah!” Tristan nearly falls back on his ass in surprise, eyes wide as he stares down at the not-cat cat. So it was a Khajiit? He’d seen plenty of them in southern Hammerfell, but he’d never heard of one so small or so...loud. The initial shock wears off, and he performs a short gesture of apology he’d learned after crashing a donkey into a Khajiiti caravan once.

“Sorry, sorry, I thought you were a cat-cat. My bad. What’s your name?”