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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

Re: Fire and Potions - 31/?

[(Anonymous)]

“Hardly,” Farengar replied briskly, looking away. “I was just noticing you managed to locate all of your equipment. Your friends insisted I haul its weight back to Riverwood along with your person.”

“Oh? Which ‘friends’ were these?” Therion asked with interest, picking a blue mountain flower from beside the path and tucking it into his pack.

Farengar’s mind reflexively listed off its alchemical attributes.

“The ones who paid me handsomely to journey out in the dead of night on the errand of tracking you,” Farengar replied, sounding generally displeased about venturing away from Whiterun.

“If they paid… that would be Bryn and Karliah. How much do I owe them?” Therion asked thoughtfully, adding, “Just how much did it take to pry you out of your study?” He would have sooner expected a Daedric Prince to rescue him (or come claim his soul), than to open his eyes and find Farengar, of all people, saving him from death. The man was notorious for his resolve to never leave his research.

“I will say that your companions value your life quite highly, and leave it at that,” Farengar said, momentarily speaking with refined words and using court etiquette. “You seem to have made a remarkable number friends in Skyrim,” he observed. Farengar doubted he had as many acquaintances in Skyrim as there had been people showing up to find the Dragonborn the previous night.

Therion laughed at this, and Farengar frowned, unsure what he had said that could be considered amusing.

“Sorry,” he replied peacefully waving a hand, “But I’ve only made one friend in Skyrim, so your comment was somewhat amusing. The people you saw… I’d call them associates.”

“Quite an interesting array of ‘associates’. Tell me, where did you make the acquaintance of the mad jester? A rather unsettling fellow, that one. I think the guards let him into Dragonsreach on a lark,” Farengar said, still upset with the palace sentries.

The laughter quickly left Therion’s eyes and was replaced by something Farengar had never witnessed before in the Dragonborn. He looked petrified.

“Gods, you met Cicero?” Therion demanded loudly. “Inside Dragonsreach?!”

Farengar watched the elf’s reaction with interest. He had never seen him so disturbed before; it was a stark contrast from his normally unshakable and aloof attitude.

“Yes, he came into my office looking for-” Farengar began, but stopped as he watched Therion’s eyes widen drastically, both shock and fury at war across his face. “You have me at a loss. Perhaps you’d care to enlighten me, why you look as if I’ve just described casually meeting Sheogorath at the local inn for a pint?”

“An apt metaphor,” Therion said, calming himself and running a hand across his face. “But Sheogorath is not nearly as dangerous as Cicero. I’ve had a drink with the prince of madness and he was rather pleasant, despite initially threatening to flay me alive and skip rope with my entrails. Cicero, on the other hand…” he trailed off. “I am surprised you are… still intact. I should clarify something right now. Never be alone with Cicero.”

“Ah,” Farengar said, unsure how to respond to such a chilling warning.

“And do not send guards after him,” Therion added emphatically, picturing a sea of dead Whiterun guards, and a very vengeful Cicero approaching the court wizard. He shook his head. “Just… find me, if at all possible.”

“Fair enough…” Farengar said, not wanting to press the issue. “Tell me then, which of your associates might I consider trustworthy?”

“If they’re with me?” Therion replied, thinking to himself for a moment. “Honestly? I just assume the worst, that way I can only be pleasantly surprised.”

Farengar gave him a quizzical look before returning to his usual, thoughtful silence.
Therion tried to focus on the beautiful spring day in an attempt to distract himself from his aching chest and pounding head. A small voice told him he should be in bed resting, but he ignored it. He needed to reach Dragonsreach and speak with Jarl Balgruuf. Events were moving quickly and he did not have the luxury of idling. Rubbing his fingers together, he worked his magicka ever so slightly into tiny embers, testing his strength.