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

The Writing On The Wall - 5/7

[(Anonymous)]

Martin was clearly no longer in danger of bleeding to death, but neither was he showing any sign of regaining consciousness. Hadvar gently rolled him onto his side, arranging his limbs to support his weight, so he wouldn't choke if he vomited. He pulled out his cloak and wrapped it around the priest's motionless form, tucking it around him carefully; almost lovingly. Despite barely knowing the man, he was more certain than ever that there was something special about him. His hands stroked Martin's hair for a few moments, hoping it would bring him comfort despite his unconscious state, wanting comfort himself.

Then he sorted through the potions in the bag. He arranged the various healing and stamina potions in order, and swallowed the weakest one of each, just enough to combat his aches and pains. He put two more in his pockets and set out at a trot, to explore the steep flight of stairs leading up from the dais. From what he knew about the layout of barrows, it could easily be an exit, which he was sure must be quicker than going all the way back to the entrance.

The stairs did indeed lead to a second exit; but the going was steep, and Hadvar did not relish the thought of trying to carry an injured man that way. It seemed likely that if he tried, he would fall and injure himself as well – and then who could go for help? The path wound around, with lots of loose rocks, then abruptly dropped down a cliff that was taller than he was, before exiting onto a mountain. Although it was pitch black and snowing, Hadvar could tell he was high up. He did not dare to explore.

Instead, he returned to the huge chamber where he'd left Martin. The Imperial was still unconscious, but looked rather better – encouragingly, his colour was much closer to his natural skintone. Hadvar started to sort through Martin's bag as well, knowing that they both needed to eat to get their strength back. He set out all of the food that was ready to eat - apples, bread, cheese, grilled chicken breast, and sweetrolls – and split it evenly, keeping the sweetrolls aside.

He was about halfway through his meal when Martin groaned and opened his eyes - ordinary, blue, human eyes. Thank the Eight! He blinked a few times and licked his lips. Hadvar recognised the gesture and helped the priest lift his head, then trickled water from a bottle of water into his mouth. Martin swallowed a few mouthfuls, coughed, then reached for the bottle himself and drank about half of it.

“Gods,” he moaned. “What happened?” His breath came in short gasps.

“You were cut up pretty badly by a Draugr's axe. Do you think you can heal yourself?”

Martin swore, closing his eyes. “If I'm going to heal myself, it needs to be clean. No clothing in the way. No fabric, loose fibres, anything that could get into the wound as it heals. It's... really disgusting if you accidentally get things like that caught up.”

Hadvar shuddered. He could imagine. “I can help you strip off and wash out the injury with water? It'll start bleeding again if I do that, though.”

“Do it. Please.”

Hadvar nodded. He really didn't want to hurt Martin, but knew that the longer the wounds were left untreated, the more stuck together they would be, and the worse it would hurt. He briskly unwrapped his cloak from around the priest, then helped him remove his robes. Martin hissed in pain as the fabric pulled away from his damaged skin. Bravely, he wriggled on his belly onto the cold stone floor, away from the clothing so it wouldn't get wet.

“Give me something to bite.”

Searching around briefly, Hadvar eventually removed one of his own leather bracers and placed it into the priest's mouth. Martin inhaled deeply and bit the leather, face contorted in agony. Hadvar held him down, tipping water from the bottle over his injuries; until he spat out the bracer gasping and sobbing, eyes watering. Hadvar massaged his shoulders as he wept, stroking his face and hair until he was able to continue. It took several bottles of water and several trips to the stream before the wounds were clean enough to be healed; and by the end Martin was no longer able to restrain himself, screaming so loudly it echoed round the cave.