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

Etiquette 3/??

[(Anonymous)]

"Then don't use my fire," said Lenethir cheerfully, getting off his fur. He dragged the spit back over toward the fire, kicking the pieces that had scattered into a neat pile, and hung his heavy cloak up to dry. Next he peeled off his leather armor, piece by piece, buckle by buckle, and Haakon found himself watching. He had seen elves in armor and elves in robes, but never this, and he was curious. Lenethir's skin was the yellow-brown of clay, and his arms were muscled like an archer's - which, Haakon supposed, was what he might have expected of wood elves, if he'd ever cared to think about it. If Lenethir knew he was staring, he didn't mention it. He stopped at his trousers, anyway, and dragged two of the furs over close to the fire.

Haakon followed suit. The limited space meant the furs were piled close together, so when each was wrapped up in his own, their heads were close together.

"Where are we going, by the way?"

"An inn."

"And then?"

Haakon rolled over, propping himself up in his elbows. Lenethir tilted his head back as far as he could, giving him an upside-down inquisitive look.

"We're closest to Windhelm," said Haakon. "Do you know nothing of Skyrim?"

"I know enough." Lenethir settled back into his furs. "Windhelm is home to the Stormcloaks, is it not?"

"It is," said Haakon, and his voice came out more defensive than he meant it to.

The elf's voice sounded disapproving. "I thought as much."

Haakon frowned. "Meaning what?"

"Meaning I've no interest in throwing myself into a den of angry wolves."

"Because you're an elf," Haakon surmised.

"Very observant."

"We don't all hate elves."

"Do you?"

"Would you outlaw the worship of Talos?"

"I don't give a damn who you worship." Lenethir rolled over, and his voice was muffled. "It's nothing to do with me."

The fire popped, and that was the end of the conversation. Haakon drifted to sleep.

The next morning, both the weather and the conversation were lighter, though Haakon was starving (which was, in fact, the first thing he talked about). This led to a discussion about mead, and brandy, and whether Haakon had ever been to Cyrodiil (he had not, and saw no reason to ever leave Skyrim, and said so, to which Lenethir laughed), and what exactly Lenethir had been doing on the cliff (avoiding bandits, he said, but Haakon was beginning to think it was more like avoiding them or ambushing them; whichever seemed more feasible).

Lenethir had a quick smile and laughing eyes, and he tended to talk more than he listened. He was fast distracted by tangents, and teasing jokes rolled off his tongue one after another, but Haakon found it easy to listen to. He'd been surrounded by war for some time now, and war was grim. Lenethir was not.

By the time they spotted the smoke from the inn, the sun had started to fall behind the trees, and Lenethir was walking with his shoulder nearly pressed against Haakon's arm for warmth.

Lenethir cleared his throat and looked pointedly at Haakon's armor. "Are you going to be, ah, welcome here?"

Haakon grinned. "Don't worry, elf. This is Stormcloak territory."

"Am I going to be welcome here?"

"Of course. You're with me." Haakon clapped a hand on his shoulder. "And you've got coin."

"Coin enough for both of us, you mean."

"I got you out of that blizzard."

"And I killed your Thalmor!" Lenethir sighed dramatically. "I suppose I feel generous."

There was no one in the inn but them, and the innkeeper cooked them fresh fish and brought them all the mead Lenethir could buy, until the fire started to become too hot. It was nearly midnight when the the innkeeper asked if they would mind him going to sleep. When they said they did not, and both got up, he locked the inn's front door and retired to his own room, leaving the fire to burn low.