Meme Announcements!

[skyrimkinkmeme]

ANNOUNCEMENTS: UPDATED 12/16/2017

Happy Holidays, fellow Kinkmemers! I have returned and have no reasonable excuse for my absence except LIFE. I will be working on updating the archives. If anyone sees anything amiss, please let me know.

I am also hoping to find another Mod and an Archivist.

The more dedicated people we have in this Meme the less chance of it dying. I admit that being the sole keeper of the Meme is not great for the fandom. If something were to happen to me, for good, this place would go the way of the Fallout Kink Meme. Let's not let that happen! If anyone would be interested in Modding/Archiving, please drop me a line. Thanks! <3

Comments

Re: Fire and Potions - 104/?

[(Anonymous)]

"Short version," Ondolemar said, wiping the sweat from his brow as he paused his healing efforts. "You broke the artifact and released over a hundred dragon souls or so, according to Talamagne. He was counting when the Thalmor harvested them. My assumption is they tried to flood Therion all at once, and well..." he raised a hand, indicating the glowing Dragonborn. "After that he hunted down Radac and... ate his soul, perhaps? I'm a bit hazy on the details, but the bastard is a skeleton and apparently my cousin is now capable of resurrecting the dead. And could probably heal his cousin-in-law with nary a thought, if he'd be so inclined," Ondolemar said sharply looking at Therion who appeared to either not hear him or ignore him.

"Therion, vahraan Talamagne," Farengar said thoughtfully, nodding toward the tall elf.

After tilting his head in consideration, Therion placed a hand over Talamagne, gold light illuminating his hand. When he removed it, Talamagne opened his eyes and sat up, the deathly pallor of his skin gone.

Ondolemar carefully examined Talamagne, sighing with relief.

Therion returned to Farengar, gathering him into a tight, possessive embrace, murmuring dovahzul in whispers.

"So, my cousin thinks he's a dragon?" Ondolemar asked uncertainty, watching Farengar squirm in his grasp, uncomfortable at the sudden display of affection.

"RAH," Therion said, making Ondolemar jump at the sudden, reverberating word.

"God," Farengar supplied wryly with a sigh. "Your cousin believes he's a dragon god."

"Well," Talamagne smirked, looking at Therion’s strange glow and the breadth of destruction around him, "I for one, am inclined to believe him."

"Would the dragon god kindly release me?" Farengar said with irritation, trying to get out of Therion's arms.

"Nid," Therion said, holding him tighter.

"Well, we don't need a translation for that one," Talamagne chuckled. "Is he capable of resurrecting the Psijics?"

Farengar grunted several protests in dovahzul requesting Therion to let go before giving up and relaying the question.

"Zu'u ulaak nid fah fahliil ahrk muz," Therion muttered indifferently, removing Farengar's hood and curling his fingers in his hair.

"That was a lot of words and very little resurrecting," Ondolemar said, drumming his fingers, thoughtfully watching his cousin.

"Yes, this is becoming more worrisome than entertaining by the second," Talamagne said, frowning down at Therion. "We need to find a way to fix him. What did he say, Farengar?"

"That he cares nothing for elves and men," Farengar growled, giving Therion a disapproving look.

"That certainly sounds like dragon reasoning," Talamagne said, shaking his head in disappointment. "I do hope this isn’t permanent," he added, looking sadly at Therion.

"Perhaps we could- Do you mind?!" Farengar snarled indignantly, trying to pry Therion off as he nuzzled his face, inhaling deeply beside his ear as though he were drinking in his scent. “You are not a dragon!”

Talamagne poorly stifled a laugh in a fake cough, before doing his best to look suddenly fascinated by the mushrooms overhead.

"Go easy on him," Ondolemar said looking sympathetically at his cousin. "He lost it when you died, Farengar. He's clearly still out of his head from it."

Farengar sighed, looking up at the powerful elf. It was hard to imagine Therion, of all people, as bewildered or lost, least of all when he was literally glowing with incredible power. He thought back to the wild eyed Dragonborn he had pinned so long ago at Solitude’s inn, recalling that even Therion had his limits. Stifling his protests for the elf’s benefit, he grudgingly accepted the affectionate attention.

“Right,” Ondolemar said. “Now tell him he’s not a god and to get to work raising these poor mer from the dead.”

“I think,” Farengar said, watching Talamagne smirk at the comment, “I’d have greater success, if I did not express it all in one sentence. Put that way, I have a difficult time believing it myself.” Turning to Therion he repeated his question, asking if he could return the monks to life. “Vis hi drun faal Psijics rigir?”

“Geh,” Therion replied disinterestedly.

“He can, but he’s being stubborn,” Farengar explained.