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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

Songs For Nomads 1.5

[(Anonymous)]

Freyja's stomach pitches. She glances to the wound that she is wrapping, the way his fingers crook inward. His voice is strained. "Not much call for a Warmaiden's," he continues, doggedly, "but farmers need tools, and the guards brought their weapons for repair from time to time. I made a decent living."

Divines, no wonder he looks so morose. She's bandaging up the end of his livelihood. Freyja swallows. It may yet heal, she wants to tell him, but she only presses her thumb to the warm, undamaged skin on the back of his hand.

The fire crackles and pops, starting to settle into a mound of red coals. The light catches on the contours of his face, a puzzle of hard shadows and soft orange light. Freyja crushes the few remaining flowers and tucks them into the bandage. Ties it off. "The Rift is Stormcloak territory," she finally says. "How did you come to be a Thalmor prisoner?"

"My cousin disappeared one night, about two months ago. Some said the Thalmor grabbed him." Eitri picks up a stone, worries over its smooth surface. Bites his lip. "My parents died when I was just a lad, and my aunt and uncle took me in. Brokkr and I were like brothers. At first I thought he'd gone to join the Stormcloaks - he was always the headstrong one. But it didn't make sense. I know him; he couldn't keep something like that to himself. He'd have told someone. He'd have told me." He shakes his head. "I was in Falkreath, looking for him. Asked too many questions, I guess. They ambushed me on the way to Riverwood. Accused me of being a known Talos worshipper. I tried to...well. It was a short fight."

"You took on a pack of justiciars?"

"Oh, aye - I fought them off with a hammer. Unfortunately it was the hammer I use at the forge."

She snorts. Her laughter seems to please him; a smile stretches the stiff bruise on his right cheek. "I'm surprised they didn't kill you," says Freyja, sobering.

Eitri's face tightens. "They wanted information," he says, and then changes the subject. "What about you - where are you from?"

Freyja sighs. "Whiterun, I suppose. It's been ten years since I really lived there."

"You've been here in Haafingar?"

"No - Cyrodiil. Hammerfell too, for a long while, and a stint in Morrowind."

He whistles. "So you're not a Stormcloak, then?"

Freyja purses her lips, amused. "Do I look like a Stormcloak to you?"

"You look like a Nord."

She does - tall, grey-eyed, painted in a riot of freckles by the southern sun, with that fine cornsilk hair that floats free no matter how tightly she braids it. "There's plenty of Nords in the Legion," she says, sharply.

"And you swear by the Nine."

That gives her pause. Freyja thinks back, then grimaces ruefully. "Only when I'm off my guard."

"You haven't answered my question."

Re: Songs For Nomads 1.5

[(Anonymous)]

Great story so far, I hope there is more tonight. I'm hooked.