#coldwindscutclean

replied to your post:

“Is that your date?”

“Darling, I don’t think he’ll have me. We’ve met before.” Shey keeps her voice low, conspiratorial. “I’m doing well, of course. If you want to feed me a caramel, I won’t say no.”

You could wear a nice warm cap.

Courgette, that’s very true, hats are always an option, but if I get into the habit of wearing caps, then I’m always going to want to wear one and then my little pile of septims will dwindle away into nothingness because I bought a new hat for the third time that week.

“I’ll dump snow into your bed if you don’t come out and play with me,” Shey threatens, chasing Dust under the covers, hand on her waist and tickling lightly. “Come play.”

“Mmnf!” Dust coils tighter on herself like a centipede being poked, trying to escape the tickling assault. “Yer awful! I wanna sleep!” But she can already feel that lovely, grey comfort fading away. A sigh. She flops back over to face Shey, looking unamused at best.

“Fine. But no snow in m’bed.” A yawn. She sits up and stretches languidly, almost like a cat herself. “And no snowballs or I’ll just leave you out there t’turn into a Sheysicle.” 

“What? That’s not fair!” Dust pouts at the question, arms crossing over her chest. “I know it’s just a game, but I don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings, and I don’t want to have to choose between people I like. Honestly, flip a fucking coin. I don’t want to behead anyone, but I’d wed and bed each of them.”

The pout vanishes, replaced by a catlike smirk. Her eyes go dreamy.

“That passes. You get better at it.” Shey assured him, taking a seat next to him. “So, what happened?”

“{Everything passes}” He mumbled in Bosmeri, mostly to himself.  He gestured softly towards his face, “I found a group to be a part of. You know. That big one out of Whiterun.” 

He hummed softly, running the palm of his hand down the flat of the pattern welded blade.