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 - 78/?

[(Anonymous)]

Farengar ignored his question, throwing down the blanket in his hand and marching swiftly over to Therion’s desk. Without a word, he flicked of his wrists, alighting both his hands with magicka. Placing either palm on Therion’s painting, he let out a slow breath and let his eyes slide shut, finding a quiet place in his mind. A small silver light shimmered, stretching out from the painting; a tether. It stretched out, leading into a dense fog. He recalled the last time he had used magic to locate Therion, as he let his mind wander away, following the silver cord, trying to gauge his distance.

Glass shattered above his corporeal body, the sound loud enough to draw his mind back. Confused, he tried to open his eyes, but before he knew what was happening, he found himself staring up at the ceiling from the floor.

Blinking slowly, he tried to gather his wits.

“Oh my,” he heard Quaranir say. “Are you alright?”

He nodded, then made a face as his head throbbed. A gentle hand at his back, helped him to sit up.

“A location spell, I take it? The same happened to me when I tried to locate where the Thalmor are hiding. That would be the Ascendant’s magic - it packs quite a punch,” he added, looking at the shattered mirror beside where Farengar had stood. “What or who were you- Oh, no. The Dragonborn...?" he asked. When neither answered him, the monk rose to his feet.

“I must alert the Order. I’ll return soon,” he said quickly, vanishing and leaving behind orbs of light in his wake.

Farengar wrenched himself off of the floor and stood with some effort.

He looked to Ondolemar. His face was its usual neutral mask. Farengar found it irksome that the elf wasn’t visibly upset. If indeed he was upset at all.

“I should inform the Jar- the High King,” Farengar said, trying to think clearly, rage building up inside of him.

Ondolemar looked around the room.

“Well. While you do that, I might finally get some sleep, seeing as the bed is free now,” he said, glancing down at Farengar. “I trust you can show yourself out?”

Farengar stared at him in open surprise.

“Yes,” he said slowly. With a curious parting glance, he left Proudspire Manor.


-----------------------


Ondolemar didn’t bother waiting to hear the door downstairs shut before wrenching open a window and leaping through it. He pulled his black hood low and sprang down the wall and into an alley. The Blue Palace was covered with scaffolding, making his task easier. Casting an invisibility spell, he crept up toward the living quarters.


-----------------------


Melaran sighed, surveying his room. Some of his books could be recovered, but others had simply been reduced to ash. Shutting the door behind him, he felt a breeze from through the window, scattering the papers of his desk. He sprang across the room to latch it. Just as he was wondering how it had opened in the first place, he saw a black reflection in the glass.

The court wizard whirled around, heart hammering in his ears, back pressed against the wall.

The mer before him pulled back his dark hood and placed a finger to his lips.

“Don’t scream,” Ondolemar said quietly.

“You’re alive?!” Melaran exclaimed, looking him up and down. “How?”

“I faked my death,” Ondolemar explained, picking up his papers and placing them in order. “Illusion magic, to hide my pulse. I’d never actually imbibe poison,” he added, neatly setting down the wizard's research.

“The Dragonborn,” Melaran replied with a frown, thinking back. “He wanted you dead…”

Ondolemar scoffed.

“Therion?” he asked with a chuckle. “He’s too soft to kill me. We’re kin. I fed the fool Nords some interesting lies. Come morning, I was going to lead Therion into a trap. To ‘find the Thalmor’. I haven’t the slightest clue where the my unit is," he shrugged. "Not since I was ambushed by the Imperials and dragged here in chains,” he added, a glint of something murderous in his eyes.

Melaran was grateful he wasn’t at that moment General Tullius.

“Bringing the Dragonborn back with me was going to go a long way toward making up for the embarrassment of my capture. However, you’ve gotten in the way of that,” Ondolemar said, giving him an appraising stare.