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Sake

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About Sake

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  1. You said in your discord that we are to swear at this story. Fucking story. What the fuck. You're welcome.
  2. Funny enough I haven't shared it to any of the ESO communities I'm in (where it actually would be on-topic) because if they google your name it's gonna lead them here, which isn't the best way to have a fetish outed if I'm being honest.
  3. I would assume any omo he gets paid for ends up here. The one omo pic that I requested then decided to pay for instead is already here, but it seems like he's not uploading non-omo commissions here, since I also have one of those that seems like it's not been posted here before now. I of course can't claim to know what other people have paid for and what sort of agreements they might have made, but so far he's got two commissioned drawings posted to his album here and there's at least one more of his commissions that isn't in that album.
  4. Gonna pop in to recommend that anyone who has money and a request lined up but has a shortage of patience turn the request into a commission. It will absolutely be worth it.
  5. It's in his discord. He gave it the ending you'd expect.
  6. You have some massive paragraphs there where dialogue should be breaking them up. A new speaker always gets a new line, you never have a bunch of different people talking back and forth within a paragraph like that. That said this is based on the absolute best sequence of Jailor art there ever was, and it's nice to have some form of proper closure for it - and even different forms of closure, since Biku went ahead and drew his own ending to it as well. Anyways aside from being kinda hard to read because the paragraphs are so big it's really good and again really nice to see an ending to this.
  7. A good story deserves to be the best it can possibly be. Nothing ever improves if nobody points out what's wrong. You take a good story like this, look at what its problems are, then you fix them and now you've got an even better one. That's how art works.
  8. Do you write on the forum itself? If you write in something like Word then copy it to the site later you'll be under less pressure to just get it posted as soon as it's finished, since without the temptation of the "submit reply" button there it won't feel like it's ready to be posted. Not until you finish writing it, give it a look over to make sure it's what you want to post, then copy it into the site and check to see if all the formatting survived, then finally post. Also never hurts to have a file you can copy into Google docs or something so you can get a second opinion - like mine, for example, since I'm pretty much always available to look stuff over to help clean up errors.
  9. You need to look things over a bit more closely before you post, you've called Lula "Rosie" quite a few times now. Otherwise it's a very good story.
  10. You need to indicate dialogue with quotations, and try to follow the rule of show-don't-tell. You don't need a paragraph at the start to tell us all these details about who we're following - those are details that we should see throughout the story, not be told up front. We don't need to be told what characters are feeling - we should be able to see what they might be feeling through their actions and body language. It's really hard to follow what's going on since there's nothing differentiating dialogue from narration and all the narration is just in tiny sentences when you could and should be using longer, more descriptive sentences made up of several phrases. And it seems like on top of not enclosing dialogue in quotations, you have multiple people speaking within the same line - do not do that. A new speaker is always a new paragraph. Honestly, even if you hadn't said this was your first time writing, it looks like a first-time story. And there's nothing wrong with that. But now that you're a writer, you now have to work on your skills and just keep improving. Nobody expects a first story to be great, but now is the time to ask yourself if you want to keep writing and if you're willing to put in the work to just keep getting better at it. You obviously have potential. But it honestly doesn't seem like a whole lot of effort went into making this look good - fundamentally, everything's good, and given that it's a fetish story there's obviously a good bit of passion involved in conceiving of and telling this story. But passion isn't enough. Admitting there are mistakes is a start, but if you know there are problems, you need to put in the effort to fix them. Keep writing. Keep getting better. Writing is fun, but it's also hard work. Don't give up on it.
  11. In all fairness, so can women. Just takes a bit of work. Also, while I'm not really into male stuff at all, I gotta say that you do have a lot of potential, and as the author of three of the four previously-existing Souls omo stories (or, y'know, if you didn't count my stuff, I'm the one who did the Anglosphere's only Sister Friede and Lord's Blade Ciaran omo), I also must say more stuff in this particular bunch of settings is highly appreciated.
  12. Keerava awoke, but refused to open her eyes. Her bed was too warm and soft for her to get up right now, so instead she snuggled in closer to Talen, pressing her back against his chest and weaving her tail around his legs. This was absolutely perfect. Everything she could ever want was right there in bed with her, so she could forget about everything else – her business, her debts, her dreams, her name, what year it was, what country she was in, everything. So Keerava gave a contented sigh and tried to let Talen’s warmth lull her back to sleep. Of course, that’s right about when she finally figured out why she was awake in the first place and noticed the midnight light of the moons filling the room. She groaned quietly as her mind woke up enough to work out that she couldn’t stay in bed for much longer. She had to pee, and it had to be soon. On any other night, she’d just force herself to go back to sleep, or get up and get down to the kitchen to start working. Not this time, though. This time, if she could relax enough to fall asleep, she’d also relax enough to wet herself – and in the absence of any clothes, the contents of her bladder would end up on her scales and sheets. And, sure, the sheets would need a good wash anyways after last night, but still. Those stains would be enough of a problem to deal with on their own, so Keerava really didn’t want to add any yellow ones to the mix. So, reluctantly, she moved to get out of bed, but much to her annoyance Talen simply pulled her in closer when she tried to get out from under his arm. She tried again, and again she was dragged back. Under better circumstances, Keerava might have found that cute, but right now it was just getting in her way. Keerava nudged Talen with her elbow and spoke softly to him. “Hey, let me up.” Despite the low volume, the urgency was clear in her voice. Unfortunately the response was just some incoherent mumbling while Talen’s hand moved south, guaranteeing that if Keerava tried to get up again Talen would press against the one part of her that really did not need pressing at the moment. She wiggled around a bit and started to make another attempt at escaping his grasp, but when he started pulling her back she resigned immediately to keep the pressure on her bladder from getting any worse. ‘Well, this is fucked,’ she thought, before following up verbally. “Talen, let go of me, I gotta pee.” She nudged him again but again nothing useful happened, and she was left wiggling while she tried to come up with a plan. First plan. Just lift his damn arm. With her left hand, Keerava grabbed Talen’s wrist and tried to pull the arm up, but even in his sleep Talen was determined to keep that limb where it was, and with the both of them lying on their sides Keerava couldn’t exactly use her other hand to help. “Ugh, come on,” she muttered. “I really need to get up now.” No response. Next plan, then. Turn around. It was a bit awkward to move with Talen’s arm pressing down on her, but she managed to wiggle herself into a position where they were now facing each other. Now what? Keerava did the first thing she could think of – with her right hand, which was now on top, she pressed against Talen’s chest and tried to push herself away. But again he simply pushed her back towards him, this time crushing Keerava’s bladder against his body. She felt but refused to think about the warm little droplets she could feel moistening the scales along her inner thighs. “Wake the fuck up before I piss on us,” she said as soon as she was sure she was in full control of herself. Her hand found its way to his shoulder, and gave him a light shake. When that only elicited a mumble, she shook harder, and this time got a groan out of him. “Hrhuuh? ‘sit moring?” Talen yawned and looked at Keerava with half-open eyes, the hand he had draped over her moving down to stroke her tail and perhaps even sneak a feel of what was under it. “No, it’s the middle of the night. I really have to take a leak and you weren’t letting me get up.” She didn’t wait for a response before pushing off against his chest again, this time getting far enough away to gracelessly roll out of bed and nearly crash onto the floor. She hastily dragged her oversized pot out from under the bed and got herself into a squatting position, absolutely ready to relieve herself. “Ah, fuck.” There was one problem, though. Talen sat up just enough to see the back of Keerava’s head. “Wha’sup?” ”Fucking…” Keerava had looked down just before she let herself loose, to make sure she was positioned properly, only to find that the pot was still full to the brim from her explosion just a few hours earlier. “Nobody emptied the damn thing. Fuck.” A few drops fell into the pot while Keerava reluctantly moved to an almost-standing position, sliding a hand between her legs and keeping her legs bent at the knees while she desperately tried to come up with an alternative solution. Talen watched quietly as she took a few steps forward, away from him. He truly didn’t care for her games, but he had to admit that the way she moved when she got like this, the way her hips swayed and her tail twitched and what her body did when she bounced, made her look incredibly beautiful, especially from behind. He was considering offering another round of fun, knowing how much she loved doing that with a full bladder and perhaps even a length of rope, but she turned around and spoke to him before he could make the suggestion. “Well what in Oblivion do I do now?” Keerava groaned and bent forwards, trying to keep her bladder, exhausted as it was from being pushed to its limit far too often recently, in check for long enough to find a solution. Her eyes were wide open and frantically searching the room for anything that might be commandeered to help her situation. “You could dump the thing out the window,” Talen said as he stared at his mate’s shifting, perfect legs. She responded with a groan. “Ugh, yeah, if I bend over to do that I’m fucking done.” The next sound out of her was something of a growl as she tensed up, crossed her legs, and gripped firmly between them with both hands. A second later she groaned again to cover up a short-lived splattering sound by her feet. “Gah, you may be onto something there though. As if I have time to come up with anything else...” Keerava glanced over at the window just barely out of reach to her right. Thankfully it had been left open all night, and for as shoddy as the inn’s construction was it seemed like the windowsill would be able to support a significant amount of weight if it needed to. She took a deep breath before hobbling over to the window, bringing one hand out from between her legs as she stumbled forwards and ended up leaning on the windowsill. She pushed herself off to stand up as straight as she could, carefully turning around and then using her free hand to grab the window behind her. One last firm squeeze of her crotch and that hand moved to do the same. She lifted her tail to get it out of the way, one foot went up to press against the wall, and she started to pull herself up. Her face was contorted, eyes closed and teeth showing, as a consequence of the strain of both dragging herself up a wall and trying to hold her urine, even as her stream started just as her feet left the ground. It built up to a proper torrent too quickly for Keerava to get in position, so it was already raining in the room well while she worked at getting herself onto the window. She sighed as she finally made it the rest of the way and dropped herself to sit on the windowsill, wiggling around a bit to get whatever she had left out the window instead of making a puddle below her. Her grip tightened but the rest of her body relaxed, her stream picking up intensity thanks to her no longer making any effort to stop it, and her tail dropping down so it could hang freely and get splashed from offshoots of the waterfall. Keerava started panting, her breath slowing as her stream did, until she was taking deep breaths with her mouth hanging open while the last of her bladder’s contents were expelled as little more than a mere trickle. When that stopped and was replaced with the occasional single drop, she opened her eyes and leaned back a little to look beneath her. In the moonlight she could make out a little shimmer outlining her puddle on the ground and perhaps a few streams where it fell into cracks in the street, but even from merely the second story of the building it was hard to see anything else. She knew she wouldn’t be able to assess any damage to her wall without falling out the window herself, so she hopped down into a similarly-sized puddle. “I don’t imagine you’re coming back to bed, then?” Talen spoke with a hint of humor in his voice. “Eh…” Keerava gave herself a quick visual inspection, though she already knew what had happened to her own body from the feel of wetness all over her lower half. Her tail was dripping and there were little trails of her waters running down her legs, especially on the back side where the moisture outlined where she’d sat in her own puddle. “Doesn’t look like it. Just get me a rag for my feet and something to soak up this with. I’m going to go see about taking a bath.” Hours later, well after sunrise, Keerava was perfectly clean and dry, wearing one of her usual simple dresses. She had her head resting on the bar with her arms serving as pillows while she tried to get a little more sleep while she had the chance. Talen was idling around in the kitchen behind her and across from her Azhani sat gnawing on a piece of raw bacon. Otherwise there was no indication of life anywhere in the building. Everything was quiet. Rather odd, considering the fact that the inn happened to be the current residence of a very large man known specifically for his ability to yell at things to make them go away. Somehow, he was nowhere to be seen. It had been decided when he failed to show up for his usual breakfast just after dawn that he must have left especially early on some important errands, so nobody paid his absence much mind. The much more real concern was the absence of people who weren’t him. Even if it was usually quiet, especially in the mornings, there was always someone there for a little breakfast so a little bit of coin could always be expected to come in before lunchtime, but not this time. So, despite wanting to get some more rest, Keerava was being especially attentive while her head was down. Any hint of that door opening most likely meant she’d be getting paid, and she had to stay awake for that. So she waited and listened. Eventually, she heard something that caught her attention, nearly jumping into an upright seated position at the muffled sound of jingling mail and heavy metal footsteps just outside. She watched the door, the optimistic look on her face being replaced by confusion and curiosity as two figures in menacing black armor entered. Sure, Keerava recognized their faces, but that armor… Her confused gaze ended up on a pouch that the Dragonborn dropped onto the bar without a word as soon as he was close enough. “What’s this supposed to be?” She picked up the pouch and gave it a gentle shake. It sounded like money, and a good deal of it. “It’s everything I owe you,” Bjorn said, his face and voice much more serious than usual. He had his right hand on the counter and his left loosely gripping the pommel of the sword on his belt. “And a little more, as thanks for everything over the past few months. I’m heading off to Whiterun today. I’m going to go finish this. And I don’t know where this dragon’ll take me, I don’t know what I’m gonna have to deal with, or what’s going to happen, and that all means that I don’t know if I’ll be coming back. And because I don’t know all these things I need to deal with loose ends now, and that includes debts.” “Oh, wow,” Keerava said with a bit of a gasp as she looked into the pouch. “That explains the armor, I suppose. What is that, ebony?” Not expecting an answer, she looked off to the side for a moment, right at Talen who had decided to come over and look over her shoulder at the money. When she looked back, she gave a little chuckle. “Shit, I never thought I’d have this much gold in my hand at once. This is… Talen, do you know what we could do with this? We can actually get out from under Black-briar’s boot here.” She couldn’t remember the last time she felt genuinely excited like this. And while the two Argonians talked with each other about all the great things they could do with the coin, Azhani looked over at the Dragonborn and gave his arm a little tug to get his attention. When he looked over at her, she said, “You said you’re going to Whiterun?” “Yeah, why? You don’t want to come along, do you?” “Ehh…” Azhani looked around for a moment, searching for nothing but her own thoughts. “Maybe? I, uh… Well, I’d like to at least head in that direction. Um, now that I actually have somewhere to live, I’ve been thinking, and there are some things I need that I can only get from the Baandari. The most reliable Baandari caravan I know of around here is the one that goes to Whiterun, so I just want to go catch up with them and come right back.” Then she shrugged. “I would just ask for you to buy what I need, but honestly I don’t trust you to be able to negotiate with them like I can. Or even understand exactly what I need.” Bjorn raised an eyebrow. “And what exactly do you need?” Azhani waved a hand almost dismissively. “Ah, nothing much. Mostly I’m concerned about sugar. It would be great if I could get a few other things from them too, but I can get those anywhere if I need to. Sugar, though, that I can’t trust if it doesn’t come from a Khajiit, and I don’t think you could recognize good sugar anyways.” “Meaning… moon sugar?” The hand Bjorn had on the counter went to his chin. “Well, yeah, what else would it mean?” Lydia suddenly interjected from just behind her husband. “Moon sugar? Really? You don’t seem like the type that would be into drugs.” “Okay, see, that’s why I don’t trust you guys to buy it for me.” Azhani gestured intensely with both hands in their direction. “To you it is a drug, yes, but to me… In my religion it is the most sacred thing in the world. I need it, and I need to make sure I’m getting the right sort of sugar, because for as long as I haven’t had a home I haven’t been able to properly observe holidays, and now that this is my home, I would like to get back to that.” She glanced off to the side for a moment. “And, yeah, it tastes really good but that’s beside the point. I cannot cook to save my life anyways so I’d just ruin it if I tried to use it in food. It’s purely religious.” “Sorry, what’s all this about moon sugar?” Keerava leaned in, finally able to pull herself away from the shiny things in the bag she’d been given. “We’re not talking skooma, are we? I can’t have you stinking up the place with that garbage. Not my business what you’re into, but, you know, not in here.” Azhani looked as if she had been personally insulted. “Skooma? No, never! That would be blasphemy!” She shook her head lightly. “No, just sugar. I might have to burn a little bit of it sometimes, maybe even smoke some, but that’s completely different from that mutilated horseshit those zombies in the sewers are on. That shit is like tar, but good sugar is… well, it’s sugar. It burns hot, there’s not a lot of smoke, and it makes the place smell sweet.” “Eh… Yeah, okay. I’m a bit too used to people around here being on the hardcore stuff, just kinda assumed that’s what we were talking about, sorry. Moon sugar, though, I wouldn’t get in trouble for letting you have that here, so it’s all good. Just keep it to your room for me.” “Oh, of course. Yeah, no problem. And, uh, you’re okay with me going off for a while, yes?” Keerava threw her hands up. “Pfft, yeah, you go do whatever you want. Talen and I can always handle things here on our own. We’ve been doing it for years before you got here, after all.” Azhani nodded and looked up at the Dragonborn again. “So, what do you say? You’d just have to get me there, or in the general direction of there, and I’ll find my own way back. Just figure, you know, why go separately when you’re already heading that way?” “Eh, why not,” came the response. “If you’re sure it’s a good idea, then I’ve got no objections.” “Yeahhh…” Azhani drew that word out as long as she could before needing to breathe again, then inhaled almost with a hiss. “Probably not the best idea to go to Whiterun, all things considered, but... I don’t really need to go into town unless the caravan’s not got there yet. And then I’d probably just lay low at an inn or something if I can find one that won’t kick me out for having a tail.” Then she shrugged and started picking at scraps of meat on the plate in front of her. “Uh-huh… I’m going to just assume that’s not a conversation I want to get myself wrapped up in, so… How about some breakfast, then? Don’t want to head out without something to eat, after all.” Bjorn took a seat and leaned onto the counter while Lydia sat down at his side. “And, uh, I’m gonna need that thing I left here.” Keerava nodded. “You got it.” She turned around and called for Talen to start cooking something, then turned back and reached under the counter to procure the wrapped-up package the Dragonborn was keeping there. “And there’s that, too.” “Excellent.” The Dragonborn first took off his gauntlets and set them onto the counter next to the package, did the same with the gloves beneath, and with his bare hands he started fiddling with the strings holding the package together as delicately as he could. In time he had removed several layers of cloth and exposed a small but thick wooden box with a hefty latch on it. Azhani watched with a sort of bored curiosity as the box was opened even more carefully. She recoiled upon seeing what was inside, her eyes going as wide as possible while she audibly gasped. “That cannot be…” She reached out for a moment to touch the thing, before grabbing that hand with her other, suddenly remembering why that wasn’t a good idea. The books she’d read about the Nerevarine couldn’t seem to agree on what his face looked like, but damned if they didn’t all go into excruciating detail regarding his two most famous weapons. One of which was right there in front of her. Keerava seemed surprised, too. “That is what’s been sitting under my bar since yesterday?” “Yup. Genuine Keening,” the Dragonborn said, sounding almost disinterested as he carefully picked the thing up – getting a few surprised noises from Azhani as she looked on in awe at his hands not melting as she’d read they were supposed to – and slid it into a small scabbard just under his sword. “I didn’t say anything about it ‘cause it’s easier to keep it safe if nobody knows what it is.” Azhani shook herself from her little trance and tipped her head to the side. “Wait, are you sure that’s real? I don’t think you’re supposed to be able to hold the real thing like that.” “Oh yeah, it’s real. I guess it’s just lost a lot of its power, so it won’t do too much to me if I carry it around. I wouldn’t advise touching it, though, just to be safe. It doesn’t hurt me but I don’t know what’d happen to someone else.” “And where’s the rest of the set, then?” Keerava asked while Talen walked up with a tray of food, stopping for a moment to register that he wasn’t imagining the legendary artifact on the belt of the guy sitting across the bar. “Supposed to be a hammer and a glove.” Bjorn shrugged. “Beats me. I’m still not even entirely sure where this was dug up, so fuck if I know what’s going on with the other two.” Then he shoved a piece of meat into his mouth, and only spoke again once it was no longer in the way. “So,” he said, looking over at Azhani. “If you’re coming along, you should probably go get everything you need together. I’d like to leave sooner rather than later, and, you know, if I don’t have to wait for you…” “Yeah, I get it. I don’t have a whole lot…” Azhani trailed off into a bit of a laugh at her own expense. “Ah, but, yes, I’ll get some clothes together, I suppose.” She stood up and stumbled, trying to remember how her legs worked after being seated essentially since she woke up. She sorted herself out by leaning onto the bar for a moment, before pushing off and slowly heading upstairs. Azhani left the door cracked open when she got to her room, ignoring the little stash of different clothes she had lying in a corner and instead heading for the window. She threw it open and leaned forward against the windowsill, her head sticking out with eyes closed and mouth slightly open. A cool morning breeze ruffled her fur while her ears flicked reflexively in response to the little bit of wind. Her eyes opened when the air settled down, and she casually looked out over what she could see of the town. A few people were roaming about on whatever business they had, and in the distance she could hear the chatter of the marketplace while the locals surrendered what little coin they could spare to the merchants selling those baubles of theirs. It almost reminded her of her time with the caravans – whenever those pedlars weren’t moving, they were camped out trying to talk some poor sap into spending his last two septims on an “exotic luxury item” that was really just some household trash brought up from Anequina or Pellitine. No wonder people in Skyrim didn’t like Khajiit, if that was all they’d ever seen of them. And no wonder the pedlars stayed out of the homeland – the Baandari were supposed to be an honorable organization, and going back home with a reputation for scamming honest people out of hard-earned money would… Well, nobody ever filled Azhani in on what would happen then, but she assumed it wouldn’t be particularly fun. At least there were still a few honest people around, and Azhani knew the pedlars running the caravan to Whiterun were among them. They couldn’t afford not to be, after all. Trying to run a scam on Skyrim’s center of trade wouldn’t just be a stain on their honor – they’d go completely broke too! She was confident they’d have what she needed, and that her experience with them would let her whittle them down to a good price for it without them trying to pull tricks on her. A sparkle in the corner of her view dragged Azhani’s attention from her thoughts. She looked towards the source, leaning forward just a bit to get a better view. She scanned the area quickly, and her gaze settled on a part of the road adjacent to the inn, just a few rooms down. A puddle there seemed to have caught the morning light in just the right way to shine a bit. But… why was there a puddle there to begin with? It hadn’t rained in ages. Then again, this place did serve alcohol. It was probably just some drunk heading home last night, stopping for a piss on the way. It was a bit disgusting, but who was Azhani to judge when she’d done the same herself on countless occasions? And while sober, no less! Come to think of it, if she was going to be heading out of town, she’d probably want to make sure to drain herself before doing so became inconvenient. So she pulled herself back into the room, leaving the window open so she could still get hints of the nice breeze, then strolled across to the other side of the room to shut and lock the door to make sure nobody would interrupt. From there it was trivial. As she’d done so many times before, Azhani walked over to the bed, pulled her pot out from under it, stripped, squatted over the pot, and relaxed. The result was a pitiful little trickle that barely lasted a few seconds, but that was a pleasant change of pace from nearly wetting herself just about every other day. She gave herself a little shake to dry off once she was done, then just redressed and put together what little stuff she would need for the journey: her coin purse, and a few sets of clothes. That still felt weird just to think about – that she had money and a variety of clothing. For so long she’d have been lucky to have one septim and a shirt. Usually it ended up being a choice between one or the other, and she’d almost always pick the septim. But that was a different time, and as far as Azhani was concerned a different person. That just wasn’t her anymore – it might have been once, but now she was making a good, honest living, and it was hard to adjust to a safe, stationary life after all that time. Perhaps going on this trip would do her a bit of good in that regard. It’d get her out and about like she used to be, except this time the people she’d be travelling with weren’t expecting her to give them any favors in exchange for the protection. Azhani shook her head and grabbed all the stuff she’d packed for her trip. No use thinking about the past, though. Nothing she could do to change any of that. So she headed for the door, unlocked it and swung it open, and was just about to step out of the room when she remembered something else she usually wouldn’t have had – her shoes, and even then she only remembered them because she noticed that her feet were bare and needed to be wrapped if she wanted to go on a long trip. Then she remembered she had a pair of shoes stowed away somewhere, which would be much better than a little cloth. She set down the bag she was bringing with her and set about trying to figure out where she’d left them. She hadn’t worn them since the day she got them, partly because they were never necessary, and partly because of what had happened to them that day that caused her to go out and wash them the next. But other than that, they were damn fine shoes. Fortunately, they were in the first place she checked – tucked away into a corner of the room near the bed. Out of the way, but easily accessible. Azhani retrieved them and spent a minute sitting on the bed getting them on and lacing them up. Now she was ready. Azhani actually turned out to be the first to get herself ready. Somehow, she’d had time to stare out a window, relieve herself, and lazily collect her clothing and money all before the two experienced adventurers got their things together. She was waiting for them just outside the inn’s front door, and when they came out they were as surprised as she was that she’d been so quick. The Dragonborn, however, didn’t seem to care much beyond the initial confusion, and simply headed off in the direction of the south gate, a little wave of his hand indicating that his wife and Azhani should follow. “Wouldn’t the north gate be faster?” Azhani was just barely keeping pace with Bjorn, and he slowed down a bit to answer her question. “It would be, but if we leave town from the south, the entire route to Whiterun is along a river, which is convenient for us because it means we don’t have to carry lots of supplies. Just some food and enough drink to get us to our first camp.” “Oh, that makes sense. No cart this time, then?” “Nope. Just horses. I actually only have the two so you’re gonna have to share Lydia’s if you don’t mind.” “And if you do mind, you can walk the whole way,” Lydia added with a pinch of sarcasm. The tip of Azhani’s tail twitched. “Well, I could do with some exercise…” “Shit, you really think so?” The Dragonborn looked at Azhani with a raised eyebrow. “Man, if anything, you need to sit around doing nothing more. Get some meat on those bones, lady.” “Smaller frame is better for sneaking,” Azhani muttered. “Yeah and it means a light breeze will knock you on your ass.” Bjorn chuckled. “You think anything’s gonna knock someone built like me down?” He made a fist and knocked on his chestplate to prove his point. Azhani rolled her eyes. “I saw you almost get knocked off a mountain by a dragon.” “Hey, Alduin doesn’t count. And I stayed on the mountain, right? Totally doesn’t count.” Lydia slapped him on the back near his shoulder. “And I suppose that scar across your chest doesn’t count either? I hear you were coughing up blood. Quit acting so tough, your dumb ass nearly died.” “Love you too, hon.” Bjorn laughed and was promptly rewarded with a little shove that caused him to stumble. Azhani slowed down to her usual walking speed, letting the other two carry on their play-fight in peace as they kept on ahead of her. Her tail calmly swished around behind her as she watched them. The sight reminded her of how her and her sister used to tease each other when they were kids, and she actually pulled off as much of a smile as her anatomy would allow. Sure, the memories of her sister whom she’d accepted she’d never see again hurt, but for some reason seeing the Dragonborn and his wife enjoying themselves – and each other – made her feel good. Things were really looking up for her. When was the last time anyone else’s happiness made her feel happy too, and not jealous of their good fortune? When was the last time she’d even been in the company of anyone who wasn’t just looking out for themselves? Azhani couldn’t remember, but she was glad that these things were happening now. She had a good life, a good home, a good job, and she knew good people. And perhaps with a little bit of luck she’d even get to go on a good adventure or two. Just like old times.
  13. Fun fact: my word document for this, which is slightly different than the released story because of revisions that couldn't be made to the blog or thread and also notes to myself about what day everything is, is at 108,674 total words. This chapter alone makes up 7751 of them. Some hours later, the three were making their way west along the southern coast of Lake Honrich, moving at a modest pace – for, according to the Dragonborn, there would be no immediate danger were they to simply take their time. They were quiet, the only sounds for a good deal of time being those of the two horses’ footfalls on the cobbled road, muffled by the jingling of armaments, and the occasional bird call or rustling in the nearby bushes. Azhani’s small stature allowed her to sit in front of Lydia, the larger woman simply reaching around the little Khajiit to work the reins. Feeling Lydia shift her position behind her slightly, Azhani’s tail twitched at the tip, its owner satisfied with the knowledge that she wasn’t the only one uncomfortable with sitting in such a position for so long – not being used to riding horses, Azhani was hoping they’d stop soon so she’d get a chance to walk around and stretch to relieve the soreness just below her tail. Evidently they’d be stopping a lot sooner than she thought. Lydia pulled her horse to a sudden halt and looked over at her husband. “Uh… You know you’re glowing, right?” “What?” Bjorn stopped his own horse, more gradually, and looked down at himself. “Oh. Um… That doesn’t make a whole lot of sense…” He dismounted and crept forward, following the beam of light that seemed to be connecting him to something else. “A dragon died must have died here, but I wasn’t around for it.” Lydia helped Azhani to get off the horse, then her own boots hit the ground shortly thereafter. “You figure the town guard went and killed it?” She followed the Dragonborn from a bit of a distance, just in case anything should happen, and Azhani simply looked over in their direction with her head cocked to the side. “Or another dragon?” “Wouldn’t have a soul left over for me if it were another dragon,” Bjorn said, peeking around a boulder and watching the dragon’s corpse disintegrate. “This was people. Could be town guard, I suppose…” When the light finally faded, he knelt before the dragon’s remains. “But I don’t think so…” He waved at Lydia to come closer, and Azhani wandered over behind the two of them as well. Standing with straight legs to look over Lydia’s armored shoulder, Azhani noticed that the dragon’s skull seemed to have caved in, and her ears twitched at the unpleasant thoughts of how that might have happened. “I don’t know anyone who can do this,” the Dragonborn said, pointing to the bone fragments. “I didn’t even think you could break dragon bones like that.” Then he stood up and walked around slowly to investigate the rest of the skeleton. “And a bunch of these ribs are cracked, and… that’s taken a pretty nasty hit too. And over here-” “Well, either way, it’s dead,” Lydia interjected, casually shifting her weight between feet. “Does it really matter how beat up it is? Someone somewhere helped us out by killing the bastard, and you got a free soul out of it. So it broke some bones in the fight. Big deal. Let’s move on.” “Yeah, yeah, but… I don’t know what the fuck could have done this. It’s nice that it killed a dragon but…” Bjorn looked around at the ground for a moment. “… But it looks like it killed it alone. Something killed this fucker on its own, and I want to know what it is because if it can kill a dragon without any help, I’d like to know if it’s on our fucking side!” Lydia stepped forward with an arm held out. “Calm down. We can worry about that later. Right now, we need to keep moving.” Her husband reluctantly accepted her hand, and she added with a lightly mocking tone, “Maybe we’ll even run into whatever killed the thing later.” The two continued a quiet conversation between themselves as they passed by Azhani, whose ears fell at the prospect of more riding when she’d hardly had any time to recover from the first few hours. But she walked over to the horses anyways, and looked over at Bjorn who had already mounted up again, and at Lydia who seemed to be waiting impatiently for her next to her own horse. Her gaze shifted between the two for a little while before she spoke up. “Could we not stay here a little bit longer?” She was wringing her hands, already sure she knew the answer. “The, uh… horse is kind of uncomfortable and I want to rest a bit first.” “Rather not,” Bjorn said. “Lydia’s right, we’ve got to cover a lot of ground every day, and there’s only a couple of hours of daylight left.” Lydia, meanwhile, folded her arms. “You need a piss, don’t you?” She glanced over at the Dragonborn for a moment. “Should have known that’d be a problem,” she said, looking back at Azhani. “But hey, I guess we’re already stopped so…” “N-no, that’s not it. I mean, I could, but I think I’ll be fine.” Azhani looked between the two again and shrugged. “I’ve never rid a horse before, so my butt’s kind of starting to hurt. That’s all.” The Dragonborn could be heard trying to stop himself from laughing. “Really? Ah, well, I think you’re just gonna have to deal with it. We’ll be stopped by sunset, you can rest all you like then.” Then he looked over at the Khajiit and raised an eyebrow. “But seriously, we’re stopped now, so you can go take another minute if…” “It’s fine, it’s fine,” Azhani insisted, stepping closer to Lydia who helped her get into her place on the horse before climbing up herself. “If we need to keep moving, that is okay. I don’t want to disrupt your plan.” Bjorn shrugged and got his horse walking again. “A’ight.” Lydia followed along on her own horse, and Azhani could feel her shifting around a bit, before finally settling down with a barely audible groan. Azhani was really starting to regret not taking the opportunity for a quick break when it had been offered to her. She knew she wasn’t in danger of wetting herself – metaphorically, of course, since she physically wouldn’t be able to do that around other people anyways – but her current situation really wasn’t helping matters. Being seated on a horse as she was meant her legs were forced apart, and if she didn’t want to fall off she needed to keep a grip on something with both of her hands. She’d picked the horse’s mane, which probably wasn’t all that comfortable for the animal either, but then again the heavily-armored woman just behind her was almost certainly a far greater burden. On that note, Azhani was glad that at the very least she was in front of Lydia and not behind her. Had she been behind, she wouldn’t be able to stay mounted without leaning forward and pressing her belly into the huskarl’s unyielding ebony plate. She wasn’t in the mood to consider what effects that might have on her. But of course things not being as bad as they could have been didn’t in itself do anything to alleviate what pressure was already there. It didn’t mean that Azhani wanted any less to emulate the river they’d constantly have at their side, and do so soon. Very soon, ideally. “We gonna stop any time soon?” That wasn’t her voice. That came from behind her. From Lydia, who, if Azhani could get over her own squirming for a minute, seemed to be unable to find any comfortable position in her saddle. “Yeah, in about an hour or two. There’s some really good camping land about that far out, and we can get there before sunset.” Lydia grumbled quietly, but not so quietly that Azhani couldn’t hear, then composed herself and said, “Alright.” Azhani could tell it wasn’t actually alright. Lydia was trying her best to hide her need but it was obvious to the little Khajiit that she wasn’t the only one with a full bladder on that horse. Not that knowing so helped matters – if anything the confirmation that they’d both have to wait longer just made it worse. Still, it was inspiration to create a bit of a distraction, so the Khajiit spoke hesitantly: “So, eh, what are you going to do after you finish this quest… thing?” The response was a light groan and snappy speech. “We don’t have a plan. It’s a bad habit to make plans for after something you’re probably gonna get killed doing.” “That’s rather pessimistic, no?” “You think so? We’re going off to kill a god, Azhani. It doesn’t matter how strong I am or how many souls he’s eaten, that’s not exactly weighted in our favor.” “It’s been done before,” Azhani spoke, almost a mumble. She understood why Lydia was annoyed right now but it didn’t make her feel any less like she was being chastised. “By the Nerevarine.” “Yeah.” “The Nerevarine, who had divine tools and used them to kill mortal gods.” Azhani tipped her head to the side. “Can it really be that different?” “I assume so.” Lydia paused for a moment to groan and compose herself. “Haah, look, I can either focus on having this theological debate, or I can focus on not pissing my pants. And I really need to pay attention to that second thing right now.” The little Khajiit nodded and gave a disappointed sigh. She was hoping a conversation would keep her distracted, but now there was nobody to talk to – the Dragonborn was far enough away that a conversation with him would necessarily be a shouting match, and with his being Dragonborn, that wasn’t exactly ideal. It’d work out fine as long as it didn’t escalate to the other kind of Shouting, and of course it wouldn’t, but… why even take the risk at all? On that note, how long had it been since he said they’d need to wait another hour? Ten minutes? Five? Less than a minute? If only there were some way to tell. The Altmer, Azhani knew, had been making clocks for thousands of years, so why hadn’t anyone else figured it out and made a portable version yet? Not that it really mattered. Whether she had to wait another five hours or five minutes, Azhani couldn’t do anything to speed things up. She’d just have to wait however long it would take to reach somewhere to settle in for the evening. Could she do that without breaking something? A moment to squirm around a little and evaluate her condition revealed… Yeah, she could. Oh, sure, she had to go, and quite urgently at that, but it’s not like she was frantic or anything. The liquid weight she could feel in her abdomen was getting uncomfortable and stretching her out a little, and she wished she could do anything about it beyond just awkward wiggling, but otherwise she had everything under control for now. Yet another testament to the effectiveness of Keerava’s unusual training. Lydia, though? She seemed to be worse off, and since Azhani had always seen her as being so much stronger, that was just a little bit concerning. Then again that could easily be explained by her husband sharing Keerava’s eccentricities, perhaps meaning she’d not relieved herself immediately before setting out as Azhani had. But that wasn’t something Azhani wanted to think about. It wouldn’t do her any good. What would help, though, would be to just focus on the nature all around, and try to ignore the more inconvenient parts of it like the river. Just keep her mind on the trees and rocks and grass and whatever else, anything but her own body or running water. Or perhaps sand? Sand, after all, is what deserts are made of, and Azhani had plenty of memories of Anequine deserts to sift through and focus on. She’d done her fair share of exploring there as a cub, after all, and as such could easily recall countless pleasant images, reminders of her old home. Specifically, the great canyons of the Scar, too dangerous for her and her sister to explore up close, but attractive enough that they’d always toe the line as much as Azhani would allow before getting scared off. But when she wasn’t getting scared of the creatures she’d been told lived down in the Scar’s ravines, she loved the feeling of the nice hot sand under her toes and the beautiful, imposing sandstone cliffs. But then the savannahs were nice too, weren’t they? Rimmen itself was on a nice little open plain, where Azhani and her sister spent most of their time if they weren’t specifically exploring elsewhere. She could almost feel the warm, dry breeze over the fields if she really committed to the memory. And what else was there? Hakoshae was nice enough, according to Azhani’s memories, though she’d only been there once or twice because her sister wanted to see if there were still any Tsaesci living there – which, come to think of it, was also why they’d spend a lot of time outside the Tonenaka, waiting and hoping that one of the snake-men would come out. They’d even made a whole day of that one summer. The weather had been too nice to head inside and the elves had the good sense to leave the Tonenaka alone, so they’d got a little basket of food from their mother and spent all day in Rimmen’s palace district trying to find a way to see the ten thousand Akaviri statues inside the shrine. Azhani brought up one hand to rub at her eyes for a moment before returning it to where it was. What ever happened to innocent little ja’Khajiit Azhani? Oh, right. Well, that wasn’t a good line of thought to go down. Acting quickly to pull her mind to something else, Azhani dragged herself back to reality, deciding she’d rather focus on her powerful desire to urinate than break down over memories better left buried. So she focused on her bladder, and its demands to be emptied as soon as possible. Still well enough under control, but definitely a good bit worse than the last time she’d checked up on it. She didn’t want to look down to confirm, but she was pretty sure her bladder was making her a fair bit rounder than normal right now. It felt heavy and full, the pressure constant and, now that she was managing to drown out the river sounds, dull enough to remain tolerable for a little while yet. She’d been through far worse before. She could handle this. But what of- “Uggh…” A strained groan from behind answered Azhani’s question before she could come up with an answer herself. “Hey,” Lydia called out to the Dragonborn up ahead. “I need to pee yesterday. Where are we stopping?” “Oh, it’s not far, don’t worry.” He didn’t look back or anything, and his voice was calm and strangely apathetic – Azhani expected him to sound excited. Perhaps he liked pretending not to care? He was weird, so perhaps that was it. “Not far, my ass,” Lydia muttered. She groaned again and squirmed to the best of her ability, ultimately settling down with an annoyed sigh. Then she seemed to address Azhani. “You know his definition of ‘not far’ is ‘less than ten miles’? Pfft. Ten miles is pretty damn far when you’ve got a lake in a balloon being squeezed by plate armor.” “How much time is that, ten miles?” Lydia shrugged, but Azhani wasn’t looking at her to see it. “Hour, hour and a half, maybe. So pretty much it’s the same as last time I asked.” She sighed again. “I know what he’s doing, what he’s waiting for. Just need to see how long I can wait for it.” Then she shut up and went back to shifting around as much as she could while maintaining correct riding posture. Azhani, for her part, twitched her ears and settled down to find something else to keep her mind off of her body. After forcing herself to ignore the mounting pressure within, she was eventually able to drift over to thoughts about her current situation and her future, mainly questioning if any of it were actually real. The discomfort around her belly was a decent indication that this was not, in fact, a dream – not definitive, since she used to wake up more frequently than she would have liked because the full bladder she’d fallen asleep with had infiltrated her dreams, so she had to rely on the fact that she was currently wearing shoes, of all things, to guarantee that she was not asleep nor hallucinating. After all, just half a year ago, owning shoes made specifically for her own feet wasn’t even something she could have dreamt of dreaming about. All this good fortune… why? What had caused her life to be so good? Could it be as simple as coincidence, all of this happening to her only because she happened to be on the verge of wetting herself a few months ago and just happened to use the last of her money to get a room at an inn that just happened to be run by an Argonian with a pee fetish who was willing to let her stay there in exchange for work? Had she stopped to relieve herself on the way, would she have ever even gone into that inn? Probably not – the Ragged Flagon had serviceable sleeping quarters for guild members who needed them, and at the time she was a guild member, in Riften on guild business. So would she have even been there if she hadn’t joined the guild? Maybe, but why? Riften wasn’t exactly a rich city – it had its share of decent marks, but not as many as Solitude or Whiterun in her experience. The only other way she knew how to make a living, she’d given up on after leaving Cyrodiil – a province which she shouldn’t be thinking about at the moment – so it’s not like she could have gone to Riften to do that. But then, if she hadn’t taken up that profession in the first place, maybe she never would have had a reason to go to Skyrim. If not for choosing that specific means to pay for her travel with Baandari caravans through the unmentionable province, she never would have… Azhani vigorously shook her head and tried to take a deep breath. “Not going there again,” she muttered quietly. Then she looked around and tried to breathe a little slower once she noticed that she was nearly panting. Apparently distracting herself by finding other things to think about would just keep leading her to places she didn’t want to be. With one hand, she gave the bulge in her abdomen a quick investigative rub, finding it to be obnoxiously firm – not hard, but just tough enough that pressing down on it would be a terrible idea. She sighed and returned the hand to what it was doing. There was no escaping it. She had to pee. The little Khajiit briefly considered asking for a stop – at least two-thirds of the small travelling party were full of fluid that wanted very much to get out, so perhaps her request would be honored if she were to simply voice it. But then, Lydia was surely worse off than she was, and if the big strong Nord hadn’t demanded they stop, or outright stopped on her own, there didn’t seem to be much chance of them listening to a scrawny cat. So she decided that she would wait. It wasn’t her favorite option, but she’d been through worse and still come out dry, so this wouldn’t be a problem at all. All she had to do was bear the pressure for another hour, then she’d be free to relieve herself in peace. Afterwards, perhaps she could take a nice bath – it’d help keep her calm and focused, and she needed to wash up anyways. Not being Khajiit themselves, her human comrades couldn’t pick up on the odor of Azhani’s pheromones, and even she was blind to most of what she was giving off, but she knew her own scent. She knew too, since she was just short of a week into her current seasonal affliction, that her scent was powerful and sending the wrong message. Hopefully they’d brought soap. That was a problem for later, though. For now, there was nothing to do but wait. Wait for an indeterminate amount of time. Great. It would be easier to ignore her bladder if Azhani could get down and walk, but then if she could do that she could also just go run off to take care of it and then try to catch up with the others again. ‘Bright moons, that would be nice,’ she mentally told herself. ‘Would also be nice to have something to eat… Hm, maybe there will be some birds or rats to catch on the way to camp.’ She amused herself for a moment with her little private joke, but the joke didn’t do anything to ease any of the sensations she was feeling at the moment – a peculiar mix of emptiness and fullness from the same area, both indicating problems that could be solved around the same time and were better dealt with sooner than later. Turning her head as much as she could to look back (and up) at Lydia, she said, “So, do you have anything to eat with you?” Lydia looked distracted. “Huh?” She gave her head a quick shake and looked down. “Oh, there might be a bit of food in the saddlebags. Maybe some bread or something. Are you even supposed to eat bread?” “Khajiit can eat things made of plants. Sugarcane is a plant, and we put sugar in everything, yes? The only thing is that we need meat.” Azhani turned to look through whatever bags she could reach without needing to lean too far or use both hands, not paying attention to Lydia’s shrug and trying to have the same level of apathy for her bladder’s protests. “Actually, Khajiiti bakers make the best cakes. If I knew how to cook I’d make them all the time.” A brief session of pawing through the bags yielded a few scrolls, an old book or two, and a handful of little bottles with either red, green, or blue liquid in them. And, most importantly, a little wrapped-up chunk of bread that smelled vaguely of meat – no doubt part of a larger piece that had been eaten alongside a stew of some sort. It seemed slightly stale, like it had been forgotten in that bag for a little while longer than it should have stayed there, but it wasn’t inedible. Azhani inspected the bread, sniffing it and checking for any visible evidence of things growing on it. She determined that the only thing wrong with it was it was a little hard and had a bit of dirt on it, and decided that she’d definitely had worse, so she settled down for a little snack, making sure to give the bread a good brushing with her fingers to clean it off. She felt the liquid inside her shift around uncomfortably as her position changed, but forced herself not to think about it too much. Instead, she did her best to work through her food, and was surprised to find that the taste of stale bread disturbed her as much as it did. Mere months had apparently been more than enough for her to become accustomed to a more wholesome diet than scavenged scraps. It was strange, and Azhani tried not to worry about it too much – it was food, after all, and she was hungry, which meant it was better than no food. So she sat squirming and eating her bread, only to discover another problem by the time she was half finished: she was thirsty. She needed to drink something, and she needed to pee quite badly. Not a good combination. She gave a little hiss then opened and closed her mouth repeatedly to try to do something about the dry feeling in her throat, but there was nothing for it but to drink. And even if she wanted to do that, the only things she’d found had been potions, and she had a feeling they wouldn’t be particularly hydrating and would do little more than exacerbate her bladder troubles. As if on cue, the pressure there suddenly mounted to a sharp sensation that forced Azhani to press herself down against the horse a bit more than was appropriate, slowly returning to her original position when her bladder settled down again. Still dry, of course. Azhani glanced over in the Dragonborn’s direction once she was sure nothing more would happen to disturb her delicate internal balance. He didn’t show any sign of slowing down any time soon. So with a sigh, she leaned over to look through the bags on the side she hadn’t checked last time. All she needed was a little water, or booze, or anything else she could drink that wasn’t magical and had effects that she already knew about. Her tail flicked in annoyance when again her bladder voiced its disapproval of her change in position. Rifling through this other bag turned up more scrolls and a small glass bottle, this one with clear liquid in it. Azhani tore the cork out of the bottle with her teeth and leaned in to smell its contents. Seemed enough like water for her, and though she was sure she would regret it she pulled the cork from her mouth with the same hand that held the bottle, then tipped her head back and downed the entire bottle at once. She returned to her original posture with a sigh, slipping the empty bottle back into the bag it came from while continuing to ignore the additional complaints from within as she added more liquid to her system. Her ears and tail flicked again while she groaned and tried to settle down. Azhani tried to focus more on the wind messing up the braid she’d so painstakingly tied her hair into that morning than on what was happening inside her body. But now the pressure between her legs was enough that even when she tried to ignore it it was still there, still begging her to just give in already. ‘Soon,’ she told herself, convinced that they had to have been travelling long enough now that they would be stopping any minute. She tried to press her legs together, and just growled quietly when she remembered that her position meant there was no way for her to do that. Then she tried instead to sit as upright as possible, figuring that if she didn’t lean forwards too much she wouldn’t put any undue stress on the distension in her abdomen, but it seemed there was only one way she could relieve that pressure by now. Nothing else she could think of would help anymore. So focused was Azhani on her own need that she didn’t notice Lydia’s situation growing more dire, meaning she was unprepared for the horse to suddenly stop and rear up, nearly throwing her off. The sudden movement caused her to make a noise resembling some mixture of a meow and a squeak, and once she was sure she wouldn’t fall down her first thought was to check to ensure that she was still dry – all was well on that front, aside from the intense desire to change that. “Okay, no, we’re stopping here,” Lydia called out from behind her, clearly directed at the Dragonborn. “Now hurry up and help me out of this armor before I piss in it!” She jumped off the horse and stumbled, frantically grabbing at the ties holding her leg armor together. Azhani stopped paying attention at that point, dismounting as calmly as she could in her condition and quickly rummaging through Lydia’s bags with her legs crossed. Her ears fell flat against her head and her tail twitched when she initially didn’t find what she was looking for, and as the search continued she started bouncing and waving her tail more erratically. Just when she was ready to give up, she found a little rag and a bar of something vaguely resembling butter which she recognized as an expensive piece of soap. Her ears returned to their normal positions and her tail slowed down now that she was satisfied with her discovery, and she immediately headed off as quickly as she could in the direction of the river. Now that she was intentionally listening for it, there was no problem locating it, though that also made her feel like she was about to explode. At least now she didn’t need to suppress that feeling, since she actually would get a chance to deal with it very soon. She cast a glance over at Lydia as she passed – there were several black metal pieces scattered around by her feet, which the Dragonborn was hastily picking up – but immediately looked away when the woman started tugging her thick pants down and lowering herself into a squat. Azhani also started moving a little quicker so she wouldn’t have to listen to what she knew would happen next. When Azhani got to the river, she dropped her washcloth and soap near its shore and looked around, a thought suddenly occurring to her. She shoved one hand between her legs while she quickly came up with a way to do something she’d wanted to try for some time. Hurrying over to a nearby tree, she first pulled off her shoes and set them aside where she was fairly sure they would be safe. Then, since she was planning on bathing anyways, she pulled her shirt over her head and tossed it onto a low-hanging branch. Then she looked down. Her heartbeat and breathing were faster than normal, but more importantly she felt like she was going to wet herself very soon, and it felt like that was equally possible if she stood there doing nothing or if she bent down to get her pants out of the way. She slipped her thumbs down her waistband, making sure to get both the pants and what was under them, then carefully slid them down as far as she could without bending over. Now the hard part. Azhani leaned forward slightly, putting one hand against the tree in front of her and lifting the opposite leg. She groaned and dropped it again, slipping a hand into her now-exposed crotch for a minute. Her fingers came back wet once she’d composed herself. With a deep breath, she lifted that leg again and immediately brought it into a position where she could slide her lower clothing off of it entirely, forcing herself to fight through any complaints from her body before bringing that foot down to the ground in a bit of a stomp. Azhani heard the slightest splash of a few drops hitting the ground between her legs at the same time. She switched which hand was pushing against the tree and brought up her other leg, giving it a quick shake and sliding her pants off the rest of the way, letting them fall to the ground unceremoniously and get kicked off to the side. With both feet now on the ground and wearing only her fur, Azhani adopted a wide stance and had one hand pressing up between her legs. She shifted around slightly so that her hips were a bit more forward, and spread the fingers on the hand she was holding herself with, watching to ensure she could tell what she was doing down there. She experimented briefly with hand positions before giving up and allowing herself to use both hands to spread her lips in a way that she hoped meant she’d have decent aim. Then she let go. A weak trickle quickly accelerated into a respectable stream that hit the trunk of the tree in front of Azhani, splashing back against her feet in a way that caused her to stumble for a moment before adjusting herself enough to be mostly out of the way. Satisfied with what she’d accomplished, Azhani closed her eyes and sighed. As always, it felt good to empty herself after a good few hours of waiting, and there was something amusingly foreign about doing it while stood upright. For a minute she relaxed and took in the sounds of running water – behind her that of the Treva, and in front of her the trickling of her own river and the pattering sound from where it connected with wood. Azhani’s tail swayed gently behind her while she enjoyed her relief, until her stream started to slow down and land more directly beneath her. Then her tail bushed up and her eyes opened to watch her feet get splashed with her own urine, though as her bladder was now just about empty there wasn’t anything she could do about it but let it run its course. She’d be washing up anyways, so getting a little wet wasn’t a big deal. Once there was little more than a few drops coming from her, Azhani wiped herself off with a finger, which she then rubbed against her thigh, and headed over to the river, sitting down on the ground next to her cleaning supplies. She grabbed her hair and brought it around to the front, letting the braided mass rest on one shoulder while she gently worked at untying it. A cool breeze made her shiver despite her having by now grown out her full winter coat, and she looked over at where she’d left her clothes. They seemed fine for now, but she’d need to make sure they wouldn’t be blown away and leave her to walk back to camp naked and cold. As soon as her hair was loose and thrown back behind her, Azhani got up and retrieved her clothes and shoes, bringing them all over to where she’d been sitting and making a neat little pile. She took the time to make sure everything was folded nicely – or as close to as possible, given she didn’t have much experience with folding clothes – and sighed when she got to her underwear. She knew she’d have to wash her clothes anyways, but the little wet patch told her that it was even more important that she do so now. Azhani mentally kicked herself for not bringing a set to change into, and turned around to look in the direction she’d come from. She noticed the light of a fire not too far away, noting the location of camp and considering how she might go about heading back for her other clothes. Obviously she could just get dressed again and head back, but she’d have to take everything with her to make sure she wouldn’t forget where it was. She looked down at the panties in her hand, then back at the fire, then to her hand again. With a quiet growl she balled up her underwear and stuffed them into one of her shoes. She just wanted to take a nice bath right now, her clothes could be washed later. So everything found its way into a pile, with her shoes on top to weigh them down – and a rock dropped into one for good measure – and Azhani herself stretched and looked over at the river. This close to Lake Honrich, the river looked calm enough to fit Azhani’s needs, but since she knew better than to trust her eyes with things like this, she grabbed her soap and washcloth and cautiously padded forward, wading far enough into the river to submerge her feet just above her toes. From there she took little steps to make sure she wasn’t going to end up somewhere too deep or with too swift a current, pausing first when the water reached her ankles and again when it reached her knees. Here, satisfied with the river’s behavior, she bent down to get herself as wet as possible, then stood back up and set about getting soap wherever she could. No matter what, she couldn’t go back to camp smelling like a tramp. A respectable Khajiit in her position, after all, would be sure to keep clean and suppress the natural odors of their condition as much as possible. The thought briefly occurred to her that this ironically only meant that people back home would use the smell of perfume to determine when certain forms of Khajiit were in season – Suthay and Tojay would practically bathe in the stuff whenever their time came around, while Alfiq and Senche seemed to be more reasonable, but still ended up smelling like gardens. If only Azhani could have been born a Cathay-raht like her sister. Sure, the problem would be more frequent, but surely it couldn’t be as bad if it happens every month as opposed to every six. ‘At the very least,’ she thought, ‘I wouldn’t have to go around with a scent that screams “FUCK ME NOW” at every male in a hundred miles. I think that would be worth it.’ She started scrubbing harder, intent on getting the sexual stench out of her fur. For a few minutes she carried on quietly, mumbling as if to hold a conversation with herself about whatever was on her mind. That is, until a sound from the near shore made her spin around and crouch in the hopes of being as inconspicuous as possible while still identifying the source of the disturbance. In the dying sunlight she could make out a large, familiar human form that didn’t seem to have noticed her yet. Azhani sighed and straightened up. “Dragonborn,” she called out, prompting him to curiously turn his head in her direction then quickly turn away again with a hand raised to block his view of her. “Woah, okay, that’s… Alright then.” Bjorn took a few cautious steps towards the river, still not looking at the Khajiit standing in it. “Uh, hi. I was actually just wondering where you’d got to, y’know, to… make sure you haven’t got into trouble or anything.” “No, I’m fine.” Azhani put a hand on her hip and used the other to wave in the Dragonborn’s general direction. “And what is this you’re doing? Where I come from it’s considered rude to talk sideways like this.” “Well, I mean, you’re kinda…” Azhani shrugged. “So, what? You think I’ve got anything you haven’t seen before?” “Yeah, no, I’d just rather not…” The Dragonborn paused briefly, taking a deep breath. “You know what, I just needed to make sure you were safe, you are, so I’m gonna head back to camp. There’s gonna be food for you when you… When you’re done here.” He turned and started to walk away, but then Azhani spoke up and he stopped. “Ah, actually…” “Yeah?” “Can you bring me a change of clothes so I can wash these and not have to head back to camp naked?” It still felt weird to have enough different clothes that she could make that request. “Sure, I’ll go find something for you.” “Thanks.” Then he headed off back to camp and she went back to cleaning herself, bending over to dip her head underwater and get her hair wet. She ran soap-covered hands through her hair with her claws out to catch all the aggravating knots and hopefully smooth everything out. More than a few clumps of unruly black hair ended up floating away downstream. Several minutes later, by which point Azhani was sure she’d just about tamed her hair (for now), a voice behind her got her attention, though she didn’t turn to look at its source. “Hey, I’ve got clothes here for you.” Azhani gave her hair one last quick comb through with her claws. “Great, leave it with the rest, yes?” Then she bent over to submerge her head again, giving her head a thorough shake when she straightened up again. She lifted up her arms to confirm that she smelled more of soap than of pheromones, and evidently satisfied turned around and headed back to shore. The Dragonborn was on his knees, rearranging her little clothing pile so that everything was neatly folded and the new clothes he’d brought were on top of the old. He instinctively looked up at the sound of Azhani’s approach and immediately turned his gaze back to the clothes, which he continued to stare at, pretending to adjust them. “Well, here you go.” “Yes. Are you done pawing at them?” She gave each of her legs and arms a quick shake to hopefully get rid of some of the excess water that was falling to the ground, then her whole body involuntarily shivered. “It’s cold and I’m wet.” Without waiting for an answer, she walked over to stand next to the pile, opposite Bjorn, and dropped into a squat. She said nothing while she snatched her old clothes from the bottom of the pile, watching the Dragonborn look up at her and quickly look away again. “You think you could let me know before you do that?” Azhani stood and shrugged while giving the tip of her tail a little flick. “What? I’m just picking up my clothes,” she said, fishing for the underwear she’d stuffed into her shoe. “You didn’t need to… y’know, do it that way.” “Maybe I just think it’s funny to see you so uncomfortable.” “Oh, yeah, very funny.” Bjorn had stood and turned to face towards camp while Azhani found herself a little place to sit and get her clothes wet. “And it’s not about me being uncomfortable. I’m just trying to show you a little respect, since you’re all, y’know, exposed.” The little wet Khajiit looked over her shoulder while she gave her clothes a good scrub. “Respect? It be more respectful to look me in the eye when you’re talking to me, no? Yeah, I’m not wearing anything right now, but my body isn’t anything special, nothing to keep secret. It’s just a body. We all had mothers, we’ve all seen breasts, yes?” She turned her head back to look down at her work. “And since you’re officially married you already can guess how everything I have works. I’ve been told that I am very much like mer in that way, so I can’t exactly hide anything you haven’t seen before.” “That’s… fair enough, I suppose. But I just do not want to get into… I am married, so I don’t need to look at anyone else, and I’m just not going to.” “You sure it’s not just because you don’t think you can resist getting off on the sight of naked women that aren’t Lydia?” “Uh, no offense, but even if that were the case, it’s not a problem here. I just, y’know, I’m sure you’re very attractive by Khajiiti standards and all, but for me I’m just not into anything you’ve got. Like, I don’t want to be rude or anything but it’s really hard to be attracted to someone who looks so much like a cat, it’s just weird.” “Yeah, no problem. I understand. I do think you’re wrong though,” Azhani responded, turning around again and pointing at the Dragonborn’s back with one hand. “You might not be interested in my body but both of us know very much that there is something of mine that you like.” Bjorn gave a nervous chuckle in response. “Yeah, I suppose so. But, uh, unless there’s something else you need, I’m gonna go leave now.” “Mhm.” By the time Azhani got back to camp, the sky was lit only by the rising moons and the first few stars of the night. She’d done her best to dry off both herself and the clothes she’d washed, but even so her walk back was with damp fur and a dripping ball of laundry in one hand. Her hair especially didn’t seem keen on drying off just yet, so she left it loose and just sat down and huddled close to the fire. There was meat hanging over the fire, so Azhani grabbed a piece and immediately tore into it, not saying anything or paying any attention to the conversation the two humans were having. Despite the salt and charred exterior, it was fairly good food. Not anywhere near as good as if it had been seasoned properly, with moon sugar, of course, but it’s not like Azhani was going to complain after eating essentially nothing since morning. Pretty soon she’d have all the sugar she needed, anyways, if she ever wanted her food to taste like real home cooking. Of course, if she ever tried to cook something herself she’d probably just burn it, so she figured it was probably better to just leave that to people who knew what they were doing – and while foreign cooking wasn’t exactly to her taste, she had to admit that objectively the Dragonborn knew what he was doing. She’d ripped all the meat off the bone quickly enough, and then sat around chewing on the bone itself. And when she located the skin of wine that had been left out, she filled a little cup with it and spent her time by the fire alternating between having the bone in her mouth and drinking in tiny sips. She noticed that the humans would occasionally give her weird looks for not just throwing the bone away as they would have, but she wasn’t paying them too much attention. Not like it was her fault that marrow tasted good, anyways. No, she was just enjoying herself, curled up by the fire as much as she could possibly be, sitting as close to it as she could without being burned. Every so often she’d bite a little too hard and have to spit out a piece of bone, but otherwise she didn’t have to pay attention to anything and could just relax for once. After a little while she finally set what was left of her bone down and repositioned herself so she was lying on the ground, and she was purring softly while her eyes grew heavy and eventually closed.
  14. Oh, yeah, sure, just hit me up with a google doc or something that has commenting open.
  15. In addition to all that, it always helps to get someone else to look over your stuff before you put it out there. An outside perspective will let you fix problems that you didn't catch and in general get input on things you might not have expected. With very few exceptions for topics that I flat out won't go anywhere near, I'm always willing to be that outside perspective.
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