FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

"GET OUT! GET OUT OF MY HOUSE RIGHT NOW!" He screamed, and his vehemence caused her to shrink back in her chair.

"L... like this?" she said, looking down at herself.

The bartender howled. "Dammit, get your clothes on then and leave. I'll harbor no murders here! If they catch me with you in here, they'll throw me out of town! GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HOME!!!"

Suddenly she had an idea. It was low, but it was all she had.

"I'll scream," she said quietly.

Suddenly his anger dropped to something worse. Hatred burned in his eyes. "You wouldn't," he growled menacingly.

"S'thengir. Look at this from my point of view. I have no choice. If I leave here now, they'll catch me. I need help. Sorry, but that help is you. You're all I've got."

"I'll be run out of town. Ra'Jirra, you've lost me everything! Do you know that? Do you have any idea what I had to go through to buy this place? To be accepted?!"

"Better run out of town than beheaded," she retorted with a snort. But then she stood up. "Look, I just want to get out of town as soon as possible. That's all. When the gate opens in the morning, I'm out of here. Just let me stay till then. Please. No one will know."

"I'll know," he said, but she saw in his eyes that his sudden hatred had subsided. Now it was him who was desperately searching for a solution.

"First thing? But wait. The guards will be looking for you."

She nodded.

"If you get caught..." he began, looking at her hopefully.

"I'll rat you out the first chance I get. Look, you wanted brutal honesty, you got it. I need to get out of this city. You need me to get out of this city. Or kill me yourself. You could do it. That mace is still there, and they'd probably give you a medal. I'm not going anywhere. Frankly, that's your best option."

The bartender looked to where the heavy mace lay behind the door. They both did. And Ra'Jirra realized she meant every word. If this stranger chose the mace, she would lay down and let him finish her. She deserved nothing less. She needed his help and it had to be willing help. He could call the Legion on her the minute she had left town, and she'd still be caught. He had to_ want_ her to escape too. Either that or she might as well get it over with. Would a mace hurt more than the headsman's axe?

"I'm not a killer," he said finally.

"I know. I didn't think I was either. Until tonight."

The bartender sat back on his 'bed' on the floor, lost in thought. She watched him with pity. She really wished she hadn't had to do this to him. She was putting his entire life in jeopardy for her, essentially a stranger.

"I'm sorry," she said, sincerely.

He glared at her, the fire back in his eyes. "Bitch," he said.

The word didn't translate to 'female dog' in Ta'agra, but the implications were identical.

"Dammit, put your clothes back on then woman. I'll think of something."

"Can't," she said, smiling back at him.

"What do you mean, you can't? Dammit, put your clothes back on! I'm not going to fuck you! Are you crazy?"

"It's my insurance policy," she said, her smile widening. "Pretty hard to claim you weren't involved when a naked murderess is seen in your place."

"I said I'd help!"

"Then help me. But I'm not putting my clothes back on until morning."

"Great. Just fucking great. Now how am I supposed to think with my penis raging?"

"I could..."

"_NO! _Keep your fucking hands off me. I should never have opened that door."

Her grin faded. "No. You shouldn't have."

He looked away from her, then picked up the glass. She handed hers to him as he walked past to put it back at the bar. "Another?"

"Fucking right, another," she said.

When he came back and handed her another glass, she sipped at it this time. Her head was already swimming, but she found peace, not having to think about her situation.

He was quiet for awhile, then looked back at her.

"You'll have to cut your hair," he said as if that was obvious.

"My hair? I'll die before anyone cuts my hair!"

He shook his head. "No, you won't. You'll cut your hair and you'll dress in some of my clothes and somehow we'll have to hide those boobs. And you'll leave as me."

"As you? Are you kidding? I look nothing like..."

"Pfff. To them you do. To them you look exactly like me. Except for the hair. And the boobs. They see nothing but a cat."

Suddenly her eyes started to water. "My hair? But... My HAIR? It's all I have, S'thengir!"

"It's not all you have. You have your life. You can keep one or the other. Which do you prefer?"

Suddenly she started to wail. Her hair was her only pride in life. She'd never seen a khajiit with finer hair, or longer. If she cut it, it would never, ever grow back like it was now. "My haaaaaaaair!"

S'thengir shrugged. "Go ahead and cry. I have no neighbors. But it's going to have to be done."

She continued to cry for some time, until finally she stopped. She pulled her hair around to her front and looked at it, eyes wide and wet. "It was very nice hair, wasn't it?"

"Best I've ever seen," S'thengir said, standing up, and his honesty comforted her a little.

"Best anyone has ever seen on a khajiit," she said, turning to look up at him. "I'll never grow it back."

He walked towards her. Oddly, the hatred that had burned in his eyes so recently now was pure pity.

"You... understand?" she asked him, needing someone to comprehend. "I... It's my soul. I don't have a penis, but I imagine it would be like someone cutting that off. It's everything to me!"

He nodded, but disagreed. "It's not the same, but I understand Ra'Jirra. At least I think I do. I'm sorry, but I don't see any other way."

"I can't do it. You'll have to."

"I know. Let me go get my shears..."

In a few minutes, he was back. "You're a bitch, Ra'Jirra. But you're no killer. What happened? Tell me all about it. And try to forget about what I'm doing. It's the only way."

She relented and told him the whole story, from the moment she'd met the stupid khajiit, to the moment she ran from the shop. She knew he wasn't really listening. He had his bartender-ears on. He grunted and nodded and said "I see" and the like in all the right places.

"Wait... she was a KHAJIIT?" he said suddenly, poking her ear a little with the shears.

"Ow! Well, yes. Some female khajiit. Apparently new in town."

"What was she wearing?"

"Oh, like there are lots of new khajiits in town?" she said, the drink speaking for her maybe a little.

"What... was... she... wearing?!" he demanded, coming around to face Ra'Jirra.

"Some Arena armor actually. Looked pretty pathetic. I doubt it would protect a mouse."

"I've seen her. She was in here earlier tonight. Fucking up my tables!"

"Well, you won't have to worry about her anymore. She's gone now," Ra'Jirra replied, tears coming to her eyes again. "I didn't mean to! But that thing! It was huge! I... wet myself to be honest. And I've seen things, S'thengir, but nothing like that."

"So... you're not sure she's dead then?" S'thengir said, resuming his snipping.

"She's dead," she said with finality. She closed her eyes, but a grinning skull was there, waiting. She opened her eyes back up with a jerk.

"What if she's not?" S'thengir said as he clipped the last long lock of her hair.

It fell across her arms and she picked it up and looked at it. It felt like her tear glands had gone dry.

"Then I just fucked up," she said, and began to laugh. S'thengir put his hand on her shoulder as her laughter waffled between crying and laughing. But she didn't want to close her eyes.

Finally S'thengir lifted her up out of the chair to stand in front of him. The floor was strewn with her hair. She looked at it as if it were snakes at her feet, but he shook her until she looked into his eyes.

"Are you okay?" he asked her.

"No, S'thengir. Next question."

"Pull yourself together. Let me finish this, then we can figure out what we can do about those breasts."

"You can cut them off too, if you want. Might as well. You sure you don't want me, S'thengir? Last chance." she asked as he lowered her back down into the chair. "I'm pretty good in bed."

"No. Sorry Ra'Jirra. You were right when you came in. You do need it. But not from me," he said with finality, and he began the close work of trimming her hair down to the fur line, like his own.

"And no, I'm not going to cut your breasts off", he added as he finished. "They're very nice, but I think some bandaging around them will do just fine. They're not that big. Follow me, I have a mirror."

In the darkened tavern, he led her to another room behind the bar. A private lavatory, she saw. It was clean. Cleaner than any such place in a tavern had a right to be. Then she saw herself in the mirror. But the image looking back at her wasn't hers. It was that other khajiit. Katia.

And then it changed. It blackened. The skin rolled back around it's mouth as flame shriveled it back. The eyes crisped. The once-beautiful little muzzle disappeared, revealing sharp, bone-white teeth. And then it's mouth opened and it hissed her name.

RA'JIRRA!

She fainted, screaming.