#vvcat asks

“Not…really? I’ve been eating people long before I was bit, just…not so often and not nearly so much. I only scavenge off those that are already dead in a pinch, and usually I get my fill from bandits and what have you on the roads. With the war going on…it’s nearly impossible for m-…my wolf to go hungry.” He fiddled with the edges of his bandages.

“Other stuff…I don’t know. I’ve been a werewolf for so long, I’ve spent more of my life as one than…normal. I don’t go around starting fights without cause, and largely I stay out of trouble with the law. But I’ve always been like that. Eh…” J’hasi rubbed the back of his head.

“That’s an easy one.” J’hasi folded his arms across his chest, his hands balled up into loose fists both to combat the cold seeping into his joints, and to protect his palms, covered in still-stinging, freshly-bandaged burns.

“There’s loads of magic and spells that were lost over the years, especially once the Mage’s Guild was disbanded. Either the bulk of the spells I knew about 200 years ago were lost then or Winterhold just never…bothered to be in contact with the Mage’s Guild. From what little contact I’ve had with the Synod and the College of Whispers, they don’t have much in the way of spells other than the ones to firmly plant oneself up the ass of the Emperor.” The Khajiit scoffed quietly, shaking his head as if to forget about it, his enthusiasm returning once his thoughts returned to magic.

The Khajiit shook his head minutely, a slight scowl on his face.

“I’d rather have neither. If I had to choose one? Nerevarine. Martin’s…” J’hasi paused as if in thought, his ears dropping for a moment before flicking back in irritation, his gaze shifting to the side and down as his voice quieted.

“Martin’s long gone. The Blades are without purpose, hiding and waiting to be hunted down by the Thalmor, abandoned because we screwed up and couldn’t let go, and once we had purpose again? We lost.” His face was bitter before he sighed, continuing.

J’hasi’s tail swished sharply behind him, eyes narrowed.

“Most vampires I run into don’t deal with daedra, and honestly they were bad enough on their own. The only vampires I’ve met walking among normal people seemed to get a kick out of being a wolf among sheep, and if you don’t answer to anyone other than yourself, that’s even worse. You’re unpredictable. And I am not taking risks when you’ve got those fangs and thirst for blood, fiend.” The Khajiit’s muzzle wrinkled even more before putting a hand on the hilt of his dagger, fingers curling, resting over Elvish steel, but not drawing just yet.

J’hasi smirked.

J’hasi likes hugs. But only when given by people he trusts to some extent. A stranger is likely to get an elbow somewhere unpleasant and thrown to the ground with a Khajiit ready to fight standing over them, mistaking the hug as an attack or an attempt to restrain him.

A new friend is likely surprise, jumping a little, maybe seeming a little alarmed, but if nothing bad happens, then he’ll slowly relax, but be just a little tense in his gut, that lingering ‘what if?’ keeping him from accepting it completely. He might return it slowly, but it varies on the time he’s known the person and the trust he has in them.

A well-known friend to a best friend sort of area, he practically melts into their arms, returning it wholeheartedly and playing with their hair or running his hands over their back or shoulders, usually resting his head on their heart if he can, otherwise putting his chin over their shoulder and fully embracing them. Lots of purring. Him happy. It’s all good things when he trusts someone and they hug him.

Send 💬 and my muse will say what they really think about yours.

“She seems honest. I mean, she has a...undead...dog, but like...rather that than find out that she’s actually a Thalmor spy tryin’ to poison me or slit my throat while I’m sleeping.” The Khajiit frowned, fiddling with a braid he’d started in his mane, small and with great attention paid to it.

“She actually reminds me a little bit of Sees, but like... I don’t know how to describe it. Their personalities are very different, but there’s this sort of...feeling...” He scratched at his neck, leaving the braid to drop and partially untangle, feeling anxiety crawl up the back of his neck and start working on brewing a headache. J’hasi closed his eyes, shaking his head.

“Dust seems like a harmless eccentric that plays it down for sake of business, which is not the worst sort I’ve come across. Honestly, I prefer knowing that she’s like that. Makes things less awkward.” He pressed his knuckles into his brow, trying to press away the tension, and prevent the headache from growing from the tiny spark of discomfort inside of his skull. He sighed after a few moments.

J’hasi was shocked at the amount of stuff crammed into the crate, and not even a name or anything on the note, not even the back. He gave the food a wary sniff, and no, not even the tiniest trace of poison. Ghost nickered, then bumped him between the shoulderblades, wanting her share of the gift. He sighed, plucking a carrot from the bag and gave it a careful sniff before offering it to her. The pale mare eagerly crunched it up, nickering in satisfaction while the Khajiit returned to cautiously poking around the box of goodies.

The scent of whoever gave him the gifts was long gone, instead reeking of the courier who had wandered off to the inn, presumably to get away from the College and the cold. J’hasi frowned, picking up the robes, and…wow they were thicker than the ones he had. He immediately took to the scarves, the texture was pleasant and the weight was just right. The Khajiit started pulling them from the crate, draping them over Ghost’s back to admire the colors, the mare finishing her carrot and before long and resumed pestering him for another. J’hasi touched her nose.