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 - 45/?

[(Anonymous)]

Therion ran a hand across his face, trying to sort out the muddled memory from downstairs; waking up to find three figures looming over him, taking his weapon from him. It was all a blur after that anyway, ending with him in a corner, surprisingly pinned by Farengar. He wasn’t sure, but he thought he had heard his name.

Therion sat up suddenly, looking concerned.

“I didn’t hurt you, did I? Downstairs, when I...” he trailed off.

Therion was surprised by a faint smile gracing Farengar’s lips.

“No, you were easy to subdue,” Farengar said, embellishing the truth. “Even though I supposedly couldn’t hope to overwhelm you, ‘if I lived a hundred years’?”

Therion gaped at him, before grinning in surprise.

“I did say that, didn’t I? That was weeks ago, I’m surprised you remember,” he chuckled.

“I have a good memory.”

“Vahrukt,” Therion said.

“Pardon?” Farengar asked.

“Memory. Vahrukt. As I recall, I promised to teach you Dragon. I can give you the basics of pronunciation and a wealth of words, but grammar is something I’m still unraveling. It’s a largely contextual language. The alphabet contains thirty-four characters.”

Therion launched into a pronunciation of the alphabet, watching contentedly as he was immediately rewarded with the familiar light of excitement in Farengar’s eyes, so foreign against his perpetually cynical expression.

Farengar was a quick study and an attentive student, absorbing information like a sponge.

“Vir saag you ko Dovahkul?” Farengar asked, sometime into their lesson.

“How do you say ‘you’ in Dragon?” Therion repeated in Tamrielic. “You… don’t. Not exactly. It’s implied contextually,” he explained with a deep yawn.

Farengar considered his explanation, looking for a phrase he could try.

“Hm… Hin nis praan?”

Therion raised an eyebrow, astounded he had remembered so many words.

“I would take your meaning as, ‘You’re unable to find rest or sleep.’ To which I would reply, geh, or yes. Is there any limit to your memory?”

“Of course,” Farengar said. “There are, for example, a few alchemical ingredients I cannot remember all of the effects of.”

“A few… out of the hundred plus ingredients in Skyrim? Each with about four effects? Making some four hundred properties to memorize? That’s astounding!”

Farengar seemed to ignore the complement, glancing at the window.

“It’s getting late,” he said regretfully, aware they had somewhere to be in the morning. He would have preferred to continue their session. The sooner he slept, the sooner morning would come and the moot would convene. Divines. He could only hope it would only take days, not weeks, to choose a king or queen.

Therion nodded, rolling out of bed and retrieving his boots.

Farengar couldn’t resist asking, though he suspected he wouldn’t like knowing the answer.

“Where will you sleep?”

“Oh, I think on the rooftop between Bits and Pieces and Radiant Raiment. A bit cold, but better than waking up to a pile of corpses at my feet, and the guards chasing me out of town.”

Farengar paused, before leaning forward.

“If you’re having nightmares, I can brew a potion which would let you sleep-”

“No,” Therion said quickly, eyes wide. Farengar thought he saw him tremble. “No,” he repeated, more to himself than Farengar.

Farengar felt his heart wrench once more, at the look in his eyes.

“When did you last sleep?” he asked.

Therion shook his head and tried to smile.
“I catch a few hours here and there, in public places. The Thalmor wouldn’t attack me in a bar. It’s just not their style. And even with a location spell, if your target is above or below ground, pinpointing is difficult. And on rooftops, I don’t have to trouble myself with finding an exit,” he said brightly, but his smile was strained. “I haven’t slept for more than one or two hours at a stretch since Riverwood,” he paused, considering whether or not to say more. “I can’t tell you how relieved I was, to see you there, when I woke up. I didn’t know where I was, I could barely breathe. My heart was about to stop, until I saw you. Sleeping beside me, in what appeared to be the most uncomfortable chair imaginable.”