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 - 22/?

[(Anonymous)]

A no-nonsense looking man with a cleaning cloth in hand approached them, apparently the innkeeper.

“We got rooms and food,” he said gruffly.

Farengar was about to ask about the lodgings when the innkeeper leaned forward, jutting out his chin.

“Follow me,” he said, opening the door to one of the small rooms.

Farengar felt a great wave of relief wash over him as he walked inside, leaving the voices and press of bodies behind.

“I’ll bring some food,” the innkeeper said, turning to leave, as Farengar laid Therion on the bed.

“How much for-”

“Ain’t no charge,” he replied, tossing his cloth over a shoulder. “Delphine’d kill me if I took your coin. You like skeever liver?”

“I’ve never had the pleasure. And I’d prefer to keep it that way,” Farengar said, rubbing his eyes in exhaustion.

The innkeeper left with a ‘hmph’.

Farengar sank into the chair facing the bed, already half asleep. He started as General Tullius entered.

“We’re heading out,” the General informed him. “Anything I can do for either of you before we leave?”

“Apparently food rations would not go amiss,” Farengar said, dropping his hand from his eyes to his side.

General Tullius chuckled. “About the only edible thing Orgnar makes is mead. So long as you don’t let him open the bottle,” he said, nodding to the bottle of Black-Briar Mead on the table beside Farengar. An all mead diet, Farengar thought ruefully. Well, it wouldn’t be the first time.

“I’ll leave a few men posted outside the door. I need to return to Solitude to attend to some important matters. Like why the hell the Thalmor kidnapped and tortured the Dragonborn. Take care of my Legate, wizard,” the General said with a final glance at Therion. With a nod to Farengar, he left, closing the door behind him.

The wizard sighed, wishing he was back at Dragonsreach, about to settle down into his own bed. Each time he closed his eyes and began to imagine he was home, the cursed lute music seemed to drift through the door and dispel the illusion. He shifted around in the hard, wooden chair, but he only seemed to become more uncomfortable. Grunting, he folded his arms and tucked his chin against his chest. After a few minutes, he snapped his head up in irritation and futilely rearranged himself with a sigh of aggravation.

Farengar’s eyes fell on the Dragonborn, his chest rising and falling silently.

The color had returned to his skin somewhat, though he was still a terrible sight to behold, covered in bruises and lacerations. Farengar’s healing magic had reconnected his broken bones and replenished his blood, but the rest of his injuries would take a day or two. His body would need some time to adjust before it could take any more restoration magic.
He closed his eyes, wondering how he had wound up in such a troublesome position. Despite everything, a part of him wished the Dragonborn would wake up and smile. Therion’s face, emotionless and empty, was somehow completely unnerving to Farengar.