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[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 - 27/?

[(Anonymous)]

“Maybe the moot will choose the Dragonborn?” Lorgren wondered aloud, speaking for the first time since he entered the shop.

Camilla, Lucan, and Therion gave him mirrored looks of disbelief.

Lorgren stared back at them in confusion.

“Ah, no,” Therion explained, “Skyrim chooses its succession from the monarchy. And if there is no one available from the monarchy, then from the jarls. And, not to put too fine a point on it, but the moot would sooner set fire to the country than let a mer to rule it.”

“Oh…” Lorgren said, a little surprised. “Even though you’re…?”

“I’m mer, Lorgren,” he said, echoing his earlier words to the young soldier.

“But if you were a Nord?” Lorgren asked curiously.

Therion laughed silently at his complete lack of tact.

“Then I would probably be considerably less attractive and I would have been dead ages ago,” he said with a wink, avoiding the question.

Therion bid Lucan and Camilla farewell and left.

He hurried to the White River. At the bank, he impatiently stripped out of his repulsive, ragged clothing as he ran, leaping gratefully into the clean water. He swam out into the center of the river and, with crack of magic from his right hand, let himself sink beneath the surface. Closing his eyes, he surrendered to the cooling relief, only moving occasionally to resist the pull of the current. With a relaxed sigh, he ran his hands through his hair, shaking his head until his hair dampened and floated in the tide. He lay blissfully on the bottom of the river bed for a minute, looking up at the rippling surface of the water, until he suspected his water breathing spell was close to done. He settled his feet into the sand and pushed himself away from the river bed, swimming back to the surface, where he saw Lorgren charging into the water, still in his armor.

Treading water, Therion chuckled at the soldier, waist deep in the river.

“I thought you were drowning!” Lorgren called out to him, looking relieved.

“So you decided to sink to the bottom and drown with me in your armor. How thoughtful of you!” Therion answered with friendly sarcasm. “Toss me the soap.”

Lorgren returned to the shore and dug through Therion’s belongings, obediently tossing him the bar. His aim was off, and it went wide to the right. Therion stretched out his hand, and Lorgren saw it stop in mid air, then float over the the mer’s open hand.

“That’s amazing!” Lorgren called. “I always heard mer were really good with magic. I wish I could do that. Maybe I could use it to stop arrows?”

“You’re from Cyrodiil, and you’re impressed by telekinesis?” Therion asked in surprise, moving closer so they wouldn’t have to shout back and forth while he scrubbed his body and hair clean.

“I’m from western Cyrodiil,” Lorgren said, sitting down cross legged at the edge of the river. “Not many Imperials from the west can cast magic. At least, none that I ever met. They say it’s because we’re descended from Nords.”

“Well, mer aren’t born knowing magic. Altmer learn basic destruction, restoration, and illusion magic as children. And as for telekinesis,” he said, rinsing the soap from his hair, “if you can see an arrow coming at you, it’s probably too late.”

“Guess I’m not missing out then,” Lorgren said, selecting a flat stone and throwing it across the river, watching it skip several times before sinking.

Therion emerged from the water, retrieving his Nightingale armor, and set to work scrubbing it clean in the river.

“Couldn’t you heal those cuts, with your magic?” Lorgren asked, eyeing the jagged marks on Therion’s chest.

“You are full of questions, aren’t you?” Therion asked. There seemed to be no end to the number of things the boy asked about.

“Yep!” Lorgren exclaimed with a grin, as if he heard the comment often.

“There are limits to what a body can take,” Therion explained dispassionately, tossing aside the washed armor as he emerged from the river and dried himself with a towel. “And even if I could absorb any more restoration magic, I saw stars just trying to levitate that bar of soap. So I probably ought to avoid casting magic. But, old habits,” he said with a shrug.