…and it makes you scrunch up your face in weird and amusing ways.
So I wanted to do a SFW Prequel-related thing because I like to post to Prequel fanart booru sometimes, and all I’ve been doing lately are NSFW stuff and audio files, so I looked and found this “classic” Katia by Plague of Gripes:
Now I don’t know when he originally drew it, but I’m sure it was years ago – pre-hiatus, and I don’t THINK it had ever been colored, so I took steps to rectify that. First, I found this canon image that I pulled the base colors off of. They’re all dark and muted because it’s at night of course, but there’s a light off to her right too.
So here’s my base coloring (and background)…
Next, I added a layer I named “glowybits”. This isn’t how I do shading typically, but it made sense to mimic Kaz’ pallet – so the parts of Katia that are lit by the nearby streetlamp are her “original” colors. So here it is with the Glowybits layer:
I did obviously move the lighting a bit more forward so we could see more of her face. The fact that it also allows for lighting of her boobs was PURELY coincidental. 🙂
Next up, highlighting and gloss layer:
Almost there! Now, all that’s needed is to add a low-opacity reflection layer, and Let It Snow, Let It Snow, Let It Snow!:
As in the original, the snow is tending to build up on horizontal surfaces like the top of her head, her pauldrons, and… her boobies. But don’t distract her by mentioning it – she’s CONCENTRATING! You can brush that snow off her later.
Chapter 1 of 18 of my 2nd Spyjirra fiction named You Only Live 18 Times. It’s set in an alternate future of the Elder Scrolls universe – a bit of a steampunk-ish setting. Cut me a bit of slack though, I’m far from a professional reader and certainly not a voice actor. But I did add some effects that make it a bit more interesting I think.The character of Ra’Jirra is based on Kazerad’s side character, though even I have to admit, the connection is tenuous at best.
Another coloring thing. LOTS of in-progress images on this one. I’d done that bowling-ball crushing Katia and, though it was undoubtedly another lewd thing, I really did (still do) like it a lot. But it was time to do something a little less lewd and I’d noticed this one when I was looking through Zokva (Zokvic on FA)’s various galleries so thought I’d give it a shot.
As is my standard, I started by putting down the base colors. Because I’m a pervert, I did her under-clothing separately so I could make her dress transparent later if I felt like it. Sorry fellow-pervs, I didn’t end up using it. Awwww.
Next up I started looking for references for fringe, ‘20s style dresses. I came across this one.
What really caught my eye though was how the fringe falls away from the breasts, which calls attention to them without being too obvious, and how the underlying dress get’s REALLY reflective there. I went with a blue-grey color though because I think it contrasts with Katia’s color better.
Next was the fringe. I tried a lot of experiments but settled on 6 different layers of fringe, starting at the dividing line on her dress and following her contours, keeping in mind gravity will pull things to the sides.
I wanted more sparkle though, so I copied the fringe layer, added noise to it, and changed it to a Hard Light type layer. I liked the end result. Looks sorta like glitter.
Next I started doing shading, but was really unhappy with my results in the belly area. I even went back to the underlying body and drew some body guidelines to help me get a feel for the shading, but it didn’t help much:
So I did some Google searching for Female Belly Shading. Found a tutorial but I cheated. I just copied the image, reversed it to match my light sorce, overlaid it as a transparent layer, morphed it to fit my Katia and used is as a shading guideline for that part of her. Check this out:
That got me the results I was hoping for anyway. I could work with that. Here’s the final shading:
Might be a bit much for a “covered” belly, but I liked it anyway. So highlighting and I’m almost done:
Okay, She’s done, but what background? For some reason I decided a nice curtain backdrop would be easy and seemed appropriate.
Okay.. And finally, the floor and the cigarette smoke. Made the floor reflective of the curtains and her feet. And this is the final for FlapperKat.
I wrote another fanfiction. It’s pretty porny, though most details are left to your imagination. Which is probably far smuttier than anything I could dream up. Anyway, read if you wish. It’s about the night Dmitri and Katia spent together. There’s some things that don’t quite jibe with the known facts, but I think most work okay.
“Fucking guard duty. Goddammit, we’re necromancers! We should have some skeletons or something do this for us,” he thought as the night came on in earnest. “Besides, what the hell am I going to do if something dangerous comes along? Throw poison at it? This is stupid.”
Dmitri sat down and thought about his life. He’d been doing that a lot lately. He’d been staying here with the other Necromancers ever since they’d been evicted from yet another Mage Guild. Things were really getting tough for his chosen profession these days. He remembered back when he was a young, gangly teenager in mage school, it seemed like such a cool thing to do too. He’d even dyed his black hair blacker and put on eye-shadow back then.
“What could be more cool than being a Necro?”, he’d said to himself.
And, let’s face it, he hadn’t exactly been the most popular kid in school. Aside from the bigger kids picking on him, and the girls ignoring him or worse, it surely couldn’t hurt he’d figured. So he put on black robes (cool), studied hard (not cool) and joined the Necro clique. While it didn’t help with the girls, it definitely reduced the bullying by the bigger kids. Unfortunately he soon found he’d exchanged one set of bullies for another. But somehow he fit in well enough, finding his own niche in the clan. He still didn’t get any girls though. Which was a real pity too. He’d written some fiction and found he had quite an imagination for various… scenarios. Good thing he’d come up with his own secret code for his stories. His Necro-mates would have never let it go had they read them, but when inevitably they did find them, instead they were impressed by his knowledge of ‘Draconic’. It was also a good thing no one knew Draconic well enough to realize it wasn’t.
But now, years later, here he was, standing guard outside these crypts. He had managed to rise to a decent level in the group at least. He was a middling mage, but that was okay. He was too good to kill but not good enough to attract attention. It suited him, really. But it also made it tough to get out of stupid duties like this. Worst of all, he was still a virgin. That stung. He had such an imagination in that department, but by now he’d realized that it was probably the reason he’d never gotten laid. The few times he’d actually talked to a girl, he would start stammering until he’d get so tongue-tied he would just clam up. And he knew why. His imagination would stray to what lay under her clothing, and that would get in the way of him seeing her as another actual person.
Intellectually he knew all this, but it didn’t change anything. He would die an old virgin, he knew, and his own overactive imagination was to blame. But he still had hope even then. If he could ever get enough power to become a Lich upon his death, then he’d get all the girls! Lich lords were really cool!
Then he heard an unusual sound approaching from far away. A steady thump, as of someone running. Or something. The light from the torch was meager at best, and the moon happened to be behind a cloud. He saw nothing, but the sound was getting closer. And then she yelled at him.
“PEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEENIS!”
“What?! Land? I thought you were down…”
“PEEEEEEEEEEEEEENNNNIIIIIIIIIIISSSSSS!”
That voice didn’t sound like Landorumil actually, he thought. It sounded more like…
And suddenly she was on him. She hit him like a ton of bricks, knocking him back against the wall and toppling the torch to the ground. A cat. A goddamned khajiit gone crazy. He tried to fend her off as best he could, having had no time to prepare any sort of spell. She seemed to be clawing at his robe! Fortunately she was a light little thing. He gave a good shove and she fell back to the ground.
Immediately he chanted a quick summoning spell and his favorite skeleton appeared in a flash.
“Hold her,” he commanded, and the skeleton obeyed, picking the scrawny khajiit up off the ground while she flailed at it.
“What the hell are you on about khajiit?” he asked, putting the torch back in it’s sconce. “Are you trying to get yourself killed?”
Then he turned back around and saw her clearly for the first time. "Oh my!”
“PENIS!” she said, starting to calm down a little. “You have a penis, right?”
“Um… yeeeees.”
“Please, mister, you’ve got to let me have it! It’s my specialty! I’m good at penises!”
Dmitri looked around. Apparently no one had heard the commotion. That was good at least. Then he turned back to the little khajiit. She’d stopped struggling and was now just dangling from the skeleton’s hand as it held her by the scruff of her neck. She was kind of cute, actually. Dmitri had always loved cats. He kept quite a few around the crypts, having convinced the Powers that Be that they would be good to keep the rats at bay. He’d seen a few khajiits in his life, of course, but never up close. They didn’t tend to hang around Mages Guilds.
“Calm down… Now before we start talking about my penis, how about a little introduction? What’s your name, khajiit?”
“Penis?”
“No. That’s part of my body. What’s your name?”
“Pas… No. NO, that’s not my name anymore. I’m… Katia Managan. Katia FUCKING Managan, and it’s my middle name!”
“Katia Managan. Okay, we’re making progress. What are you doing here, Miss Managan?” Dmitri asked as he looked her over. She smelled faintly of dust and wine, though surely not enough to be this drunk.“
"I broke em. I dropped them all.”
“You’re not making sense, Miss Managan.”
“I can’t make anything. I can’t make a fucking sign.”
“What’s wrong with you? Are you drunk?” Dmitri asked. She was certainly exhibiting all the signs.
“Drunk? Where?”
“Look. If I have Bones here set you back down, will you promise not to attack my robe again?”
“Bonerman! Well, I’m hornully awf. But if you say so. Say, you got anywhere we can be alone?”
“We are alone, Miss Managan.”
“No, I mean alone from you. Just me and Mr. Bonerman!”
“Set her down, Bones.”
The skeleton dutifully did it’s master’s bidding. Dmitri prepared for anything, but the khajiit woman fell to her knees and turned around to face the skeleton’s pelvis.
“Lies and Deceit! You got no boner Bonerman!”
“Miss Managan, maybe I should take you home. Can you tell me where you live?”
The khajiit had rolled on her back and was looking up between the skeleton’s legs and scratching it as if looking for something. Suddenly she started to cry. “I don’t live anywhere. I’m homeless. But my friend in Anvil…”
“Anvil. Okay. That’s not far. Come on, get up. Let’s get you into the cart…”
With that, Dmitri picked up the scrawny khajiit bodily and carried her to the nearby stable. She wasn’t heavy, but she was… warm. Bothersomely warm.
“Now you just wait here, I’ll be back in a minute, then I’ll take you to your friend’s house. Okay?” Dmitri asked.
“Oh! Sure! She’s got a great bed. You can rock me all night!”
Dmitri cringed. Cute as hell, but a bit much for him to handle alone he suspected. “Bones, keep her here. And keep her quiet!”
The skeleton sat on the khajiit’s head. Dmitri was about to protest when he heard her start to moan.
“Oh yeah! Give me that tailbone Mr. Bonerman!”
Dmitri blinked, then went in search of Landorumil down in the crypts. Both returned to the doorway a short time later, his ‘friend’ complaining.
“Okay, but you better be back before the boss gets wind of this.”
“Look, it’s just a few miles away. I’ll be back before dawn easy. Your shift was supposed to start in an hour anyway.”
“What the hell do you have to do in Anvil anyway?”
“Just have an errand to run. Thanks Land. I owe you one.”
“One HOUR!” he said as Dmitri walked back to the stable. Katia was busy sucking on the skeleton’s toes so he hitched a horse to the cart quickly and started off. Unfortunately, just as they were pulling away, Katia happened to look up and waved to Landorumil.
“Hi dude! Wanna fuck?” she called.
“What the hell?” Dmitri heard him yell, but he ignored the shouts and got the horse up to speed as he pulled out onto the path.
“BRING HER BACK!” he heard Landorumil shout, but then he was safely out of earshot.
“Aww. You’re no fun,” Katia pouted.
“Am so. I just… three’s a crowd.”
The khajiit climbed out of the cart and onto the seat beside him.
“What do you mean? Three’s fine! Three’s a PARTY!”
“Look, let’s just get you home, alright?”
Katia turned instantly morose again. “Don’t have a home. I’m a loser. Say, what’s your name again?”
“Dmitri. Glad to meet you. How’d you manage to get all the way out here drunk anyway?”
She lay down on the bench, her head in his lap, which was far more contact than he felt comfortable with.
“Demeter. Say Demeter, you got a penis under here?”
“Dammit Katia, leave my robes alone!”
“Oh! You do have one! Did I tell you, they’re my specialty?”
“Yes, Katia. You told me. Now leave me alone, please!”
“Told you. You’re no fun.”
“Look, we can have fun when we get you back, okay?”
That seemed to satisfy her, for a little bit anyway. “Found some wine in some crypt or something. It was good! Say, wanna see something?”
“Not yet.”
“Look at this! See this?”
She pulled open her blouse. Literally. Buttons flew and were lost on the path behind them.
“Check it out. I got underwear!”
Before he knew what he was doing, Dmitri looked. Brown bra. But then she took his hand and pressed it to a breast.
“Paint! Isn’t it the best idea? I thought it was the best idea.”
He yanked his hand away, but the damage was done. He tried to think of his grandmother.
“It was stupid,” she said, laying back on his lap, but he couldn’t help but notice her blouse remained awfully open.
“I’m a failure, Demeter. Everything I do is stupid. The only thing I know how to do is penises, and that’s too easy.”
“Oh, I’m sure you can do something else.”
The khajiit sat up and looked at him. He looked at her breasts.
“How do you spell Merchandise?” she asked.
“Merchandise?”
“Yeah! How do you spell it?”
“M E R C H A N D I S E”
“You sure I can’t play with your penis?” she asked, her eyes tearing up again.
“No!”
“You’d like it. I can’t spell, but I can do that.”
She put her head back in his lap, but face down this time, nuzzling for it.
“AAAAAAAAA!” he screamed as the cart hit a bump, sending a tooth home.
“Oh! Sorry,” she apologized sitting back up.
“Katia, look. It’s not that I’m not interested, believe me! But… can I be honest with you?”
She lay her head back on his lap again, sighing but at least keeping her muzzle towards the stars this time. “Not into cats. I know. I’ve heard it before. You should have seen me a few months ago! I was all skin! Not a stitch of fur! You’d have liked me then.”
“What? No. Actually, I love cats. But Katia… I’m a virgin.”
“You like boys?”
“NO Katia. I like women! I just… haven’t ever…”
“What?”
“Katia, I’ve never had sex.”
She stared up at him, uncomprehending. “What?”
“I’ve never done it. Until a few minutes ago, I could honestly say I’ve never even touched a woman.”
She snickered. “You still haven’t. You touched paint.”
“Good point.”
“Does it work?”
“Does what work?”
“Your penis. Does it work?”
Now it was Dmitri’s turn to be confused. “Yes it works. Why?”
“How do you know if you’ve never had sex?”
Dmitri’s dark skin let him blush without others noticing. That was one small advantage of being his race. It served him well now.
“Just… trust me, okay? It works.”
“Do you want to be a virgin?”
“Not really.”
“Then… why not?”
“Jeeze Katia, not here. On the road? What are you, some kind of slut?”
“Yup! That’s me. Slutcat. I’ve been called that before. Sometimes I’m a slut. When I’m drunk. When I’m not, I’m a lot… different.”
“You know, you don’t talk like you’re drunk anymore.”
“Oh, trust me. I’m drunk. Drunky and Horn. Do you know, I won’t even remember you when I wake up? I never do.”
“Blackout drunk? Jeeze Katia, how is that even possible? There’s no way you’re that drunk.”
The swaying of the cart and the warmth of her head was beginning to bother him even more. But he tried his best to ignore it. She was awfully pretty though. And that blouse was still open.
She sighed, “You know, after one night my parents sent me to a specialist. He cast some sort of spell on me. Had me watch this medallion. Back and forth, back and forth. When I woke up, he said it wasn’t because I was drunk. He said I have a deep problem with my inadequacy. He said when I get drunk, my personality changes to a slut. He said it’s just an excuse, and that I do it to prove to myself that I have some value. He said that the only thing I am confident of is my sex, and that I use it as a crutch to carry on when I’m normal. He said I keep it as a way to stay confident even though my best attempts to be of any value are worse than mediocre. Well no, maybe I said that.”
“That’s… awful,” Dmitri said. But he was remembering what that breast felt like.
“And…” she paused. “he said it’s the only way I can feel someone else likes me.”
“Now that’s not true. What about your friend?”
They were nearing the outskirts of Anvil when Katia began to cry again. “She’s wonderful. She’s a writer, did you know? I bet she never misspells anything!”
“Probably not. It’s an easy word,” he said
“What?”
“Nevermind,” Dmitri said and started stroked her head, trying his best not to look further down, but failing.
“It’s okay Katia. Everybody is better at somethings than others. It’s no reason to be ashamed of yourself.”
“I’m better at penises.”
“Well, that’s still something, isn’t it?”
“She doesn’t even like em.”
“What?”
“Quill-Weave. She likes other girls.”
“Quill-Weave. Odd name.”
“Argonian. She’s nice. She gave me a hug once. It was awkward.”
“Where does she live?”
Katia sat up and looked around. “Over there. Down that street. But she won’t be home. She’ll be at the bar.”
A few minutes later and they stopped, Dmitri guiding the horse to the alley beside the house.
“Well, here you go Katia,” Dmitri said.
“Not gonna happen, Demeter,” she said, smiling an evil smile.
“What?”
“No way I’m letting you go. I owe you. Come on in, virgin. I’m going to rock your world.”
Dmitri started to protest, but he’d been ogling those furry boobs for far too long. His smile was mixed with fear, but…
“I can’t! Bones… He can’t be seen in town like this.”
The slutcat smiled. “PARTY!!!”
She took his hand and drew him into the house and up the stairs, the skeleton dutifully following close behind.
Dmitri didn’t protest any longer, though he was fairly sure that, dark skin or no, he was glowing by now. Damn she was pretty, but he was as nervous as a… cat. What if it didn’t work? He might have the imagination of an erotica author, but… for real? He wasn’t sure how to do anything for real.
The next four hours were the most incredible experience of his life. To say she was wild was an understatement. And he became just as wild eventually. They found a hidden area in the closet, where her friend apparently kept an odd leather outfit as well as numerous exotic toys. They used them all with abandon. By the time it was over, he was exhausted and completely sated. He’d explored every inch of her. Every fantasy he’d conjured up, she was game for, and her competence was justified. She was good with penises. Very good indeed. They’d even found interesting uses for the skeleton, which, oddly, didn’t bother him. Bones had been his closest companion save for his cats, and of course it helped that he wasn’t really alive. Unlike some sentient skeletons, Bones was just an animatron. In this case, an oversized sex toy. Plus Katia had many ideas of her own. Female ideas that he would never have thought of. She only apologized for not having a large fruit available. They checked the kitchen downstairs, but no – there were no pineapples. There was the kitchen table. And a counter that turned out to be less stable than it first appeared. But no pineapples. The peas were an interesting idea. He found out he really liked peas, if served in certain special ways. They ended up breaking the bowl, but nobody got hurt.
Finally he fell back onto the bed, heaving as if his life were nearly spent. He looked at Katia and she rolled over onto her back.
“Was I good?” she asked.
“The very best,” he assured her. “Unbelievably good.”
She smiled and closed her eyes. “I have all the friends,” she murmured, then she rolled back onto her stomach and began to purr, closing her eyes.
When finally he’d gotten his breath back, she was fast asleep. He got up and put the blanket over her.
“Damn that was fun,” he thought. “If I died tomorrow, I wouldn’t regret it!”
Then he looked around the room. Slowly sanity returned and he saw the room. Really saw it. It was trashed. The red paint on the walls was particularly obnoxious. He looked down. Yup. He had red underwear now.
“Oh gods, what have I done?”
He turned to Bones and got an idea. After a quick search around downstairs, and a trip to a nearby merchant who was open late, he returned with some cleaning supplies, a box of chocolates, a potion that she might well need, and a pen and paper. Then he gave the skeleton a command that the skeleton immediately began to follow, while Dmitri began to write. He yielded to his baser instincts though and pulled the blanket partially off the sleeping khajiit and used her body as a table, taking care not to break through the paper, but enjoying the concept of using her curves as a table. It made his writing sloppier, but he was going to take advantage of every new opportunity he could think of.
“Who knows when I’ll be able to use a woman’s ass as a table again?” he thought. “Damned if I’m not going to this time!”
He was halfway through the letter when the door opened. The argonian’s eyes went wide and he suddenly realized had taken his robe off in case Katia wanted to go another round. “There’s always hope!”
A few minutes later, after some hasty commentary, he found himself downstairs in the author’s parlor. She was seething and crying at the same time. He explained as best he could, but he had to leave out some parts. He explained that Bones would continue until the room was as clean as he could make it, but that he had to go. And he saw no reason to mention the somewhat wobblier countertop.
“She’s really not like that. All the time,” Quill-Weave said as he was preparing to leave. The tears in her eyes belied her protestations that Katia was just a friend. For his part, Dmitri explained that it wasn’t just Katia. He was a guilty party too. It had just been too… wild. And that he really did like her. That mollified the Argonian somewhat.
“Look, Dmitri. You seem like a decent sort. For a man anyway. I’m glad you care for her beyond… just that.”
“I do. Let me just finish the letter I was writing for her, and I’ll be gone.”
“You do that,” Quill-Weave said. “But use the table here. It’s made for writing.”
After the experience tonight, Dmitri thought he would be immune to blushing, but he managed to anyway. He started to explain, but realized it was pointless. She probably understood just fine. He was a man, after all. He finished the letter, went upstairs to leave it on the table, and kissed the khajiit. She stirred a little but went back to her purring. He looked around to make sure the door was still closed, and kissed her again, somewhat lower, just for himself. She purred louder. Then he left the room and went back downstairs.
At the door he paused for a minute, Quill-Weave’s eyes turned to him, still wet but curious.
“Listen, Quill-Weave…”
“Yes?”
“We… well. We found your toys.”
Suddenly the argonian’s eyes went wide.
“Yeah. Those. Um… You might want to boil those. Or something.”
Her mouth dropped open. The rows of teeth were worrisome, so his last words he said were just before he closed the door on the way out..
“Um… especially the purple one. It has been places that… well, you might just want to burn it.”
He heard something hit the door as he closed it quickly. It might have been a shoe. Then he got the hell out of there.
GamGyuls, I thought it was awfully pretty and I colored it today. Don’t think he’ll mind.
Colored:
I probably again put too much emphasis on her breasts. I always do that. But at least I kept it subtle. (For me!) I really think she’d be a Righteous Queen Cat. I’d kneel before her! Tail could be out of sight or maybe she just keeps it inside the dress.
She recovered quickly, and the days passed in a Skooma-induced blur. She hated every minute of it, of course, but she started to make some decent coin at least. The Madam was fair enough, and the clients were easy to please though. But as the days went on, she found herself needing more Skooma to maintain her composure. The other girls introduced her to the smoking version of the drug, and that helped for a while, but by the end of the first week she realized that her income was just barely enough to cover her habit.
Then one day she woke and noticed one of her teeth was loose. She knew what that meant. She was losing it. But try as she might, she couldn’t break away from the drug, and no one was there to make her. The tooth fell out one day. It was in the back and not noticible, but she sat and looked at it for a long time. Then she began to cry. The next day she noticed another tooth was loose.
She couldn’t hold up any longer. It was too much. She was laying on her bed, the last client having just left, and she looked at the Skooma pipe on her table.
“I could just end it,” she realized. “Just take too much. Then I could sleep. Sorry Honest John. Your work was in vain. You should have just left me to die.”
She wondered idly what he must have done to keep her alive. Then something shifted in her brain. She couldn’t quite define what it was, but something CHANGED.
A knock came at the door. She knew who it was. She couldn’t speak.
The door opened slowly. Beyond the door was utter blackness. She saw the hand on the door. Blackened and charred.
“Hello Ra’Jirra,” it said.
She screamed, but no sound came forth.
“It is time,” said the cracked, hollow voice, and the thing stepped into the room, closing the door ever-so-gently behind it.
“But… the Skooma. It’s supposed to keep you away! It did!”
“The Skooma let me free, Ra’Jirra. It did what you never did. It LET ME OUT!”
Ra’Jirra released her grip on reality then. It was time indeed. Time to let this happen.
“My turn,” it said.
“It’s 50 per hour,” she found herself saying to the apparition. “How long will you use me?”
The thing shambled closer to her bed, and she took off her clothes, laying back langorously.
“How long?” it asked, kneeling beside her. “Eternity.”
She spread her arms invitingly, and the thing crawled in beside her.
*****************************
“We found her like this last night,” the Madam said to the priest. “She’s only been on the stuff for a week, maybe a few days more.”
“Worst case I’ve seen,” he replied. “But we’ll do what we can for her. She’ll need to be locked in a cell till the addiction passes. You did right by her to bring her here.”
“But… the madness…”
“It may pass with the addiction. Or it may not. No way to know.”
“Poor girl,” said the Madam.
“Indeed. Poor girl,” the priest agreed.
“Every once in a while she comes out of it, you know,” the Madam continued. “She sounds almost normal then, but then she’ll just say ‘She’s back again.’ and off she goes.”
“Making love to a ghost. Can’t say I’ve ever seen the like before. But we’ll take as good care of her as we possibly can.”
“Thank you. Now I’ve got to get back to the House,” said the Madam.
They lifted the khajiit up and carried her to a cell in an out-building of the chapel made for such cases. Currently she was the only soul housed there, but she had regular attendants that came and took care of her. But her routine in the cell didn’t last long. A few days later the addiction had broken, but the madness remained. And she had a visitor. Two actually.
“Doll?” came a gruff voice.
“Oh, excuse me. I’ll be right back,” she said to no one, then opened her eyes.
“Honest John? Is that you? Sorry for everything. They put me in a madhouse, you know.”
“I know Doll. I know.”
“I’m off the Skooma. Isn’t that good?” she asked him.
He was kneeling by her small bed in the otherwise bare room.
“That’s wonderful, Doll,” he said, but the tears in his eyes said otherwise.
“Don’t cry, Honest John. I’m okay here. She just calls me back. She’s very needy you know.”
“Who is?” the theif asked gently. “Who is it that calls you, Doll?
Ra’Jirra smiled. "Wouldn’t YOU like to know! Sorry, old man. She’s all mine!”
Then another voice spoke, odd and smooth. The words startled the mad khajiit and she focussed on the source. An Argonian stood behind the theif. She looked vaguely familiar.
“Katia Managan,” it said.
“You can’t have her!” the mad khajiit cried, grabbing a pillow and squeezing it to herself.
“Doll, listen to me,” Honest John said, his eyes running freely with tears now. “Listen very very carefully. She can wait for a minute. I need you to listen and UNDERSTAND this….”
“NO! You can’t have her!!! You’re going to take her away from me!”
“Doll,” he said. “She’s not real. Now, LISTEN. Katia… Managan… Is… Alive!”
Ra’Jirra listened. The words entered her brain and fell into place. The gears turned. The lock opened, and her brain shifted BACK a little.
The Argonian came around and knelt beside the thief. “Ra’Jirra. You didn’t kill Katia Managan. She’s still alive. She killed that giant imp.”
Ra’Jirra closed her eyes. Her lover was gone. No trace of her. She was… free!
She looked back at the two. The priest was standing in the doorway, she noticed now.
“No. You are too cruel. You lie. You’re not Honest John!”
“I am, Doll. This is Weedum-Ja. She is…”
“Let me take over, Honest John,” the Argonian said gently. “Ra’Jirra, I am S’thengir’s lover. I never did buy that story about you robbing him. But something happened that night. I finally wormed it out of him. When I put the pieces together, I realized what had happened. Ra’Jirra, the Shopkeeper saw her leave. She’s alive! Damned if I know where, but you sure as HELL didn’t kill anyone!”
“I didn’t?”
“No, but not for lack of trying. That was an ass move, locking her in like that. But she killed it. You’re guilty of being a giant asshole, but you didn’t kill her.”
The khajiit looked back to Honest John. He shook his head in agreement. “You didn’t kill anyone, Doll. But almost yourself.”
She sat up woozily. “I… didn’t kill… anyone?!”
She smiled for the first time in a long, long time. “I DIDN’T KILL ANYONE!” she cried to the Priest, who accepted her unexpected hug happily.
Then suddenly she turned back to the thief. "Honest John. I’ve got to find her. I’ve got to apologize!“
He nodded, and gestured to the Argonian. "Weedum-Ja will see you back to Kvatch. But Doll… something has happened. Kvatch is burned to the ground.”
“What?”
“Long story,” Weedum-Ja replied. “But if you want to come back, you’re welcome to come with me.”
“But… bandits?”
Both Weedum-Ja and Honest John laughed at that.
Honest John explained. “Doll Weedum-Ja here is a Level 20 Pilgrim. She could take out the entire city guard. Us bandits wouldn’t go near her. At least, not if we knew who she was!”
“Really?” she asked the Argonian, who bowed in response with a smirk on her face. “I do alright.”
“So… she might be dead anyway,” Honest John continued.
“I don’t care. I’m going to find her,” Ra’Jirra declared and stood up. Suddenly she was aware that she was naked.
“You kept taking off the clothes when we put them on,” the Priest explained.
“Wait,” Weedum-Ja interrupted. “Wait a minute…”
She went out of the room and came back in, rummaging through her own backpack. She drew out some clothes familiar to the khajiit. “My…” she started.
Then Weedum-Ja handed her the spear she’d carried for so long. Ra’Jirra took it and fell to her knees. It was like an old friend, comfortable to her hands.
She dressed and was on her way in an instant. The three had to overnight along the trail as the day was waning fast, but with the Argonian with them, they had no problem with bandits or anything else that night.
“Just one thing,” Weedum-Ja said as they settled into their beds for the night around the campfire.
“What’s that?” Ra’Jirra asked.
“If I ever see you within ten FEET of S’thengir, I WILL kill you. Instantly and with no regret.”
Ra’Jirra laughed. “Fair enough! We women have to understand each other. Just give him my thanks.”
“Fuck. You should want to punch him. If he’d have told me the truth sooner, none of this would have had to happen. He’s an asshole. But he’s my asshole.”
“Good point,” Ra’Jirra conceeded. “I take back my thanks. Fuck him in the ass for me instead.”
“I will!”
Then she went to sleep. Her sleep was not peaceful though. In it, she saw a vision of Katia Managan wearing an outfit she’d never seen before. But she was no longer burnt and horrible. She was just the normal weird khajiit she had met before. The apparition walked up slowly to her, and she fell to her knees. “I’m so sorry, Katia. I was a coward. I didn’t think! I’m SOOOO sorry!”
“Rise, bitch,” said the apparition.
She stood up.
“You’ve paid for your crime. Almost,” said Katia Managan.
“Almost?”
The apparition pulled back it’s hand and let it fly at full speed into Ra’Jirra’s cheek. The blow sent her to the ground and stung like hell.
“There. Quest fulfilled. See you later, Ra’Jirra!” it said, and suddenly her dream was gone. She awoke with a decent bruise on her cheek. And she smiled. She deserved that.
‘When she awoke a short time later, she was back in S’thengir’s private room. The window was glowing blue. Dawn.
“You alright?” said a voice from behind her head. She looked up and saw S’thengir standing over her. She was laying on his floor-bed, clothed in similar fashion to what he wore. She noticed the restriction around her chest then. And she noticed her hair was gone from the floor.
“What happened?”
“Hell if I know. You looked at the mirror and started screaming, then fainted I guess…”
“You dressed me?”
“Obviously. It’s getting light out. The tavern doesn’t open for a couple more hours yet. But I need you to tie me up before you leave.”
Ra’Jirra thought about that for a minute. “You want an alibi.”
“Damn right I do.”
She smiled as she sat up, “I could take your money too, if you’d like!”
S’thengir took her hand and helped her up. “Thank you, no. I’ve hidden it away though. You did rob me, I’m just not giving you the money.”
“Well, a girl can try! I need to spend a few minutes the restroom… the public restroom. Then I’ll be ready to go.”
The bartender ushered her out into the common room.
“Did you have a good time strapping up my boobs and dressing me?” she asked as she crossed to the restroom.
“Delightful. In other circumstances…”
“Yes,” she agreed as she closed the door. “Other circumstances.” She pulled something out of her backpack along with her gold.
In a few minutes, she had emerged again. The bartender was sitting on a chair, lengths of rope already cut. She began to tie him up.
“You into bondage, S’thengir?”
He looked at her. “Fuck you Ra’Jirra. Tie them tight. And when you’re out there, don’t talk till you’re out of the city.”
Finally, she was ready. She was about to leave when she realized something. She went back to where she’d left S’Thengir.
“Say… do you have any weapons I could take with me? Besides that mace I mean. I don’t think I could use it very well. A spear would be awesome!”
He shook his head, not able to talk with the rag tied into his mouth. But then he signaled to behind the bar. She followed his gaze and found the knife. It wasn’t much, but with at least a foot long blade, it was better than nothing.
“Thanks,” she said, buckling the knife and it’s sheath to her belt. His belt… Well, it was her’s now. Then she headed to the side door. She saw her clothes in a corner. She considered taking it with her. Even if she couldn’t wear it anymore, it would still bring a nice price at the right shop. But no. Her life as Ra’Jirra was over, along with the beautiful high-necked outfit. It might compensate S’thengir for his trouble. She opened the door, trying to walk like a male.
She almost made it with no problems at all, but the guard at the gate recognized S’thengir.
“Tavern closed today?” he called as she passed through. She shrugged noncommittally, but he said nothing more and then she was out of Kvatch.
The road was lightly traveled at this time of morning, and the few that she did pass paid her no mind. The sun was coming up, and by its heat, it was going to be a warm day.
It was mid-morning when she arrived at the crossroad. From here she could head west towards Anvil and the coast, or travel east towards Skingrad. She hadn’t really thought this through much, she realized. She knew only that she had to leave Kvatch. But the thought of the sea beckoned her and she turned to the right towards Anvil. If things went wrong, she might be able to hop a ship out of Cyrodiil completely. She thought of Elsweyr briefly. But no, that was not her home. She had to make her own home. Somewhere.
The sun continued to beat on her and the chest wrappings were beginning to make their presence known. She looked around and saw a small copse of trees nearby that she headed towards. The shade was cooling, and she suddenly realized just how sleepy she was.
“Well,” she thought to herself as she sat down behind a large tree, facing away from the road, “There’s no need to look like a male anymore. Now I’m just another random khajiit. Off with this damned thing!”
She stripped off her vest and undershirt and began scrabbling at the bandage. He’d done a good job, it wasn’t going to be easy!
“Could you use some help there, lass?” came a voice. gruff and far far too masculine for her comfort.
She looked quickly towards the voice. A single, but very large man stood not 5 feet away from her. She scrabbled for her knife and had it out in a flash, but he turned and patted the scabbard that held a sword. Given the scars on his grizzled face and the use the sword had obviously seen, it was pointless.
“Sorry lass,” he said with a bit of a foreign accent she couldn’t quite place. “This isn’t your lucky day. If you’re any good at throwing that thing, now would be a good time to try. Otherwise, you’d best just put it away.”
She looked at the knife, then back at the highwayman. Her eyes started to water again. “Please…” she managed to squeak.
He walked over to her and sat down beside her.
“Oh now lass, I’m not so bad. I can help you get that thing off. Don’t worry, I’m not a rapist. Not into cats regardless. But I think we may need to have a look at that backpack of yours…”
“Please mister, I’ve had a hell of a day. A really, REALLY bad day,” she cried.
“I’m sure. And now you’re traveling alone. Sorry lass. But that’s a mistake you should have known. But look at the bright side. Believe you, me, there’s a lot more than old Honest John you could run into out here. Some’d as soon kill you as ask, you know? Do you mind?” he said, indicating her backpack.
She knew what was in it, of course. She’d be lucky to keep anything. But she nodded. She really didn’t have any choice.
He dumped it out unceremoniously on the ground and rummaged through the small pile. Some things he stuck in his pockets, others he left behind. He didn’t leave behind her gold purse. When he was satisfied, he put the leftovers back in and sat back beside her against the tree, pouring out the coins from the purse into his hand.
“Oh!” he said, then turned to her. “Nice! How long have you been saving this up?”
“A year,” she choked out.
“A year. Well, there’s always next year, eh miss?”
Through tear-streaked eyes, she implored him, “The little doll. Could you please?”
“Mmm?” he said. Then he rummaged through his deep pocket and drew out an odd animal figure. “This thing?”
She nodded hopefully.
“Was going to give it to me niece honestly. But sure. I’m not a cruel man. It’s just a cruel world, see?”
She nodded as he put back into the backpack. Then he turned back to her.
“Cunt or Asshole?” he asked.
She stared at him, uncomprehendingly.
“Which? Cunt or Asshole?” he asked again, enunciating more clearly.
“W… what do you mean? Are you going to rape me?” she squeaked, eyes wide with fear again now.
“Fuck no! Name’s Honest John for a reason, lady. Much as you’d like it, naa. But when you’ve been doing this as long as I have, see, you learn some things. And one thing you learn real quick is that smart ladies always stuff some coin up their cunt or their asshole. You look like a smart lady. Wrapping those boobs up, you were pretending to be a guy. Another smart idea if you’re traveling on your own. So which is it?”
“Pardon?! I don’t have any…”
Suddenly his demeanor took on a truly menacing look for the first time.
“I’ll have to have a look-see then, missy. Sorry, but I don’t believe you. I’ve been honest with you, haven’t I? I even put your little doll back. I’m going to ask you one more time, and if you don’t tell me the truth, we’re gonna have a little tussle, you and me, and you might get hurt. I haven’t hurt you yet, have I? No. Do you WANT to get hurt lady? Do you LIKE to get hurt?”
She shook her head, trembling now.
“Then which is it? Cunt or Asshole?” he said very quietly.
She
peered through the keyhole. She saw his back within, breathing deeply.
So peaceful, he seemed. And she was about to screw up his life too.
Well, there was no help for it – short of turning herself in that is.
She thought about that for a moment before knocking. Beheading probably.
Maybe that wouldn’t be so bad. She certainly deserved it. Justice in
Cyrodiil was harsh and swift, and there was no leniency for a crime like
hers. But was it murder?
“Idiot, you locked the young fool in
with that… thing,” Rajirra thought. “She burned her own gloves with the
fucking fire spell. Did you really think she had a chance against it?
She’s probably a charred corpse by now.”
An image of a body,
charred and black leapt into her mind. It’s eyes burned from their
sockets, the teeth ever-smiling now. Smiling at her. Grinning. It’s
fangs long and sharp. It turned it’s black and bone-colored skull
towards her. “MURDERER”
She screamed, then covered her mouth. A
sound came from within. She’d woken him. She shook her head out of her
nightmare and returned to reality, then knocked at the door.
She
heard words spoken in Ta’agra within. To anyone else in town they would
be unintelligible. She however, understood them quite well.
“Fucking
goddamn shit! At this time of night? I’ll fucking bash whoever is there
with my fucking mace and fuck their dead body and eat their head. Who
the fuck is awake at this fucking time?!”
“Who is it? Who is out there?” she heard the bartender switch to the Common language.
“It’s… Ra’Jirra,” she replied in Ta’agra as assurance that it was her.
She heard keys rattle and the bolt thrown back. The door opened just enough to see the bartender’s face beyond.
“Ra’Jirra? Do you know what time it is? What the hell do you want?”
“Please… S’thengir isn’t it? I… I need to talk to you. It’s urgent.”
“Hold
on a minute,” he grumbled and shut the door again. She heard something
heavy thump onto the floor inside before the door opened.
“What?”
S’thengir said impatiently, standing within the doorway. Had she not
been so distressed, the sight of the khajiit dressed in silly
blue-striped pajamas would have at least elicited a chuckle.
“Can I come in?” she asked. This was the moment of truth. He had to let her in!
“What for?” he asked, eyeing her suspiciously.
She began to unlace her bodice.
“Wait!
Stop!” he said, and she stopped. He leaned out and looked around,
making sure no one else was around. Then he looked back at her, his eyes
still full of suspicion.
“Why?”
She shrugged. “We can’t help ourselves sometimes, S’thengir. Surely you know that. You’re a khajiit.”
He grumbled, but opened the door wide and stood aside. “Come in. Of course I do. But I control myself.”
She entered and looked around the little room as he closed and locked the door behind him.
“I’ve…
done so myself, pretty well. But tonight. I just couldn’t,” she said,
finishing the unlacing and removing the vest. She started unbuttoning
the blouse underneath.
S’thengir sat back on the rough ‘bed’ he’d
made on the floor and watched her, a touch of a smile reaching the
corners of his mouth. It was a smile few had ever seen on the gruff face
before.
“Do you want to become pregnant?” he asked her. “I’m not prepared to father a litter.”
“No, khajiit. I have potions. I just need you. I am leaving town in the morning. Before I go, I need this.”
“I
see. Yes, I know the need too. But you must have more self-control,
khajiit-woman. We must not be seen as animals here among the other
races.”
“That is why I come at night,” she answered. She stood now
with her blouse open, her breasts not fully revealed, knowing they
would have their natural effect.“
“That was wise,” he said, watching her in the flickering candlelight, his eyes focused somewhat lower than her face.
“Will
you not join me, khajiit-man?” she asked, her hands ready to remove the
blouse and reveal herself to him. “You make me feel… wanton.”
He laughed a short, somehow angry laugh.
“You are wanton, are you not? No, thank you Ra’Jirra. I prefer to watch you undress. It arouses me.”
“I
see,” she said, and let the blouse slip from her shoulders. Then, with
as much grace as she could muster, she lowered her skirt slowly. She
stood naked in front of the bartender, awkward and embarrassed. Her hair
covered her breasts after she had bent to step out of the skirt now,
but he was looking farther down than that now. She felt the familiar
heat rising within her, and it shamed her. She did like this, and she
didn’t want to.
“Turn around,” he said, and she did so, bending to rest her hands on a chair. Behind her she heard him removing his pajamas.“
"Will you not… ”
“Foreplay? Of course. I am no rapist. I do not enjoy an unprepared woman. But, turn back around Ra’Jirra.” he replied.
She turned back to see him fully dressed.
“What?? I don’t understand! I need…”
“You
need nothing. Thank you for the show. Your body is excellent. But now,
put your clothes on and tell me why you wake me this late at night,” he
demanded.
“I… I wanted…”
“Ra’Jirra. Do you know what a
bartender does? It is my trade to know my customers. And you are a
khajiit. I can read you better than these humans, and I read them well.
Your eyes are red. You have been crying. Your hair is brushed, but until
recently it was disheveled. I do attract you, and perhaps sometime we
may mate, but that is not why you have come. Tell me or leave.”
Rajirra turned around and sat on the chair heavily.
“You see much, S’thengir,” she said. “More than with your eyes.”
“And
more than with my cock,” S’thengir smiled. “But you had a disadvantage
in your scheme, whatever it was, Ra’Jirra. You see, I’m already in a
relationship. A serious relationship. Your body, as tempting as it is,
will not move me to compromise my love.”
She smirked. “You were none to quick to stop me undressing, I noticed.”
S’Thengir
stood and walked slowly over to her and bent to put his mouth beside
her ear. She could feel his warm breath inside it.
“She never said I couldn’t look,” he whispered, tickling the sensitive fur inside.
She turned to him, but he backed away.
“Now now, foul temptress. Hands off the merchandise. Wait here a moment. I’ll be right back,” he said, and left the room.
Ra’Jirra
thought desperately. Seduction was out. Still, she had managed to
secure a refuge, at least for a little while. She tried to think of
something else. Something that might convince him to help her escape the
city in the morning. But he returned with two glasses of strong
khajiiti drink and she’d not come up with anything yet.
“Still naked? I guess you didn’t understand me,” he said, handing her one glass.
She shrugged. Being naked didn’t bother her.
“Drink. I call it Eye of the Tiger. My own mix. Try it! I’m rather proud of it,” he said, taking a sip of his own.
It tasted like cold fire on her tongue. She had thought of nothing. She was running out of time.
“It’s good,” she said. “Very good.”
“So,
now. Ra’Jirra. Why are you here? And please tell the truth. My patience
is growing thin, and my vow to my love hangs by a thread. I will kick
you out instantly and call the guards if I sense any lie. And I’m very,
very good at sensing lies.”
She looked at him. She looked at the
drink. She looked back at him, and the expression on her face was no
longer contrived. It was one of sincere desperation. She downed the
drink and felt it begin to do it’s work.
“I killed someone tonight. I need to get out of town.”
bdprequel 