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Overcasting 2:

Or: Making the Cat Substantial

Katia Managan and Briarbird belong to Kazerad.

Everything else belongs to Bethesda.

1: Inquisitory Medication

"Fresh of the printing block! The Black Horse Courier, Cyrodiil's only reliable source of news across the Empire!" A Khajiit bellowed out, a well dressed fellow clutching a text heavy sheet in one hand, a stack of many replications in the other. Many faces of many races turned to look at the shouting Khajiiti man, and a rabble formed around him, pages spreading out far and wide. Fewer hands to deliver them, many unable, and he hoped for more help soon.

"Former Author-turned-Imperial Hero Quill-Weave slays Black Bow Bandits terrorising Leyawiin! Repairs in Anvil progressing at never-before-seen rapid pace thanks to Imperial Agent Katia Managan overseeing supply deliveries! Mystery of fiery haired Bosmer Arena aficionado found dead by calipers; find out how as lead suspect believed to be newest Arena champion, gone without a trace! Plague afflicting Imperial City said to be on decline! Read it all here and more!!" He continued to hand out news sheets until empty handed, the crowd barely backing away to read the latest news, more thoughtful of the number handing them around to share reading space.

Truly, the Market district was busier than normal. The final story shouted out could attest to that; indeed, a plague had been rife since a week after the Three Giants Debacle. This was a sadly realistic issue; many buildings had been damaged in the fighting alone, let alone those structures destroyed by said three Giants. The disease itself wasn't the worst anyone had seen, a sturdy case of the Collywobbles that conventional, non-magical cures couldn't seem to abate, and with resources still being spent on rebuilding and the knee-jerk reaction of preventing any further Mythic Dawn attacks, magical healing was far too expensive for the average citizen.

While curing had proved difficult, it was being mostly held in check by wellwishers and hedge wizards who braved the slowly emptying streets, but the spread was only intensified due to the extra homeless made. Accommodations at inns were made to the more wealthy, community tenting was offers to those who were made homeless while rebuilding took place.

Unfortunately, the proximity of everyone along with the open planning meant that it only took one unwell fellow to spread the unpleasant if unseriously named condition. The vulnerable died in sorrowful numbers, even the average man was left bedridden in a time when community grouping and help was needed. But hope comes from unusual places, especially in desperate times. As such, beside the crowd indulging in the gossip of the land, another group surrounded a smoke-pillar, armoured presence keeping control, all around a small number of tents, wooden boxes and a table of gleaming glassware.

Sitting atop a group of crates, several opened and featuring an array of plants and fungi, sat an Argonian; cross legged, wrapped but partially exposed claw-toed feet pinning a mortar in place while a solitary arm swirled, stabbed and twisted a pestle in its cavity. Muscular tail slowly swayed behind him, deep blue scales and purple to red accents across its length, as well as his face and hands, orange fingers from his work stood out. Plain grey robes, now stained on the front a deep orange hue from the splatter and flickings of the sturdy bowl he was working with.

The Argonian, face frozen in a determined and somewhat exhausted expression, stabbed the pestle into the bowl, secure in place with the thick paste, then his solitary left arm reached about his position, plucking another set of ingredients, placing them in another mortar by his side as an assistant took the previous stone bowl. The lizard then sighed, briefly resting as he stretched his legs, wiggling his digits for a few blissful moments, before resuming his meditative position, squeezing the second mortar between his feet and began the process over again.

His assistant, a Breton man, was operating a table nearby with a small fire beside it, a supported glass vessel bubbled away, vapours flowing up and onto the array of smaller beakers on the table proper. He took the first mortar around the arrangement to the hot, bubbling vessel and scraped the contents inside, then poured a bucket of water in as well. The temperature cooled slightly, allowing him to cut off the vapour flow so the new batch cooked, whereupon he went to the other side, turned a spigot, and a dense, dark brown liquid poured into a wooden bowl positioned beneath it.

"Alright, next ten!" The man called out. Between a small group of order-keeping Imperial Legionaries, a row of commonfolk approached. Each one shaky on their feet, pallid and sweating, some with desperate looking family members supporting them, all races brought low and despondent by the plague. Each was allowed to approach the Breton man in turn, as he brought the bowl to their lips, one by one.

"Bless you, Ogier, you're a good man. You too, Marsh-walker, whoever you are. Please tell Claudette as well, you're all amazing people" His current charge, a Dunmer woman, called hoarsely to both before she took a heady sip of the bowl. The Argonian only briefly looked up to offer a weary smile before returning to his hard labour. The Dunmer looked somewhat relieved already as she swallowed a second time, ensuring none of the life-saving concoction would go to waste.

"Rest easy, friend, give it time to work; go home and get some rest" Ogier Georick gave her shoulder a friendly squeeze as she was beckoned away by another Legionary. Another Breton, a female of the race, exited a nearby tent, rubbing sleep from her eyes.

"Eyes-In-Stars, do you need me to take over?" she said as she approached, placing a hand on his arched back.

"One more batch, m'lady, and I'll gladly take a rest" He said, giving her the same tired smile he had offered moments prior. Six hours of nonstop work, at least today. Four days he had been in the Imperial City, three more or less spent in this position. He would usually spend weeks doing the same thing, but his back was still not entirely recovered from a month prior, bound and beaten. He spent a week recovering, two more making a slow and steady path to the capital, and now back to work in less than ideal circumstances.

Eyes-In-Stars ended his last batch with a flourish, flipping the mortar in his hand and stabbing it as the one prior into the thick paste, handing the result to Claudette and grunting as he straightened out, slowly dragging himself off the boxes. He went to stand only to fall to a knee as his back twinged aggressively; he grimaced, hissing as pain shot through him, causing him to stumble as he attempted resist the urge to drop. Before he could hit the floor, though, one of the afflicted citizens' family, a doe-eyed Imperial girl unlikely out of her teens, ran to him, placing herself under his arm and supporting him.

"Are you alright, sir?" her voice was soft as velvet and rife with genuine concern.

"Don't you mind me, young one. Just the rigours of age. Go to your family, I'll make do" He attempted to stand under his own power, but it wasn't going to happen, he might as well have a sword driven along the length of his spine.

"Here, let me help" Another voice, deep and mighty, a Nord man approaching, followed by a Khajiit. The three of them all lowered themselves, arms encircling the Argonian's own and his back, lifting him effortlessly. They slowly, carefully took him from the Imperial girl, and lead him to the tent Claudette had emerged from.

Behind them, the crowd began to applaud, cheering, calls of thanks.

"Hear that, friend? That's all you" The Khajiit, the same handing out Black Horse Courier sheets just a short while prior, smiled as he helped the old Argonian along "My Brother, Hassiri, is walking by himself again thanks to you. This one blesses the day you arrived"

"Just coincidental, Sand-stepper. Any fool who picked plants for a while could do it" Eyes-In-Stars grunted, pain still pulsing along his back.

"Nonsense" The Nord interjected "Talos' own hand guided you to us in our time of need. When this is all over, I owe you a drink....bah, as much drink as you want! My daughter is being cured as we speak, least I can do is get you comfortable before returning to my wife to get her home"

"Indeed, Urjabhi owes you a great debt. At least consider offering an interview, so your deeds can be known. Come by our office if you have time, friend"

Eyes-In-Stars remained quiet as they pulled him through the tent, and gently placed him onto one of a two beds inside. With friendly smiles they left him to recover, and Eyes-In-Stars breathed a sigh of relief to be able to lay flat. Rest, however, would be left wanting.

"I quite concur with the Nord, Argonian" A voice, smooth and cutting, a bladed tongue with barbed intent. "It is rather miraculous that you arrive just as the plague struck in earnest, and with an equally miraculous cure, no less" From the darkness of the dimly lit tent, a tall, lithe and long-coated fellow approached, arms behind him and hidden. A small Imperial sigil embroidered on his shirt collar, just below a golden skinned face, brown hair neatly groomed. A long, dark coat covered most of him, just well sewn black boots, unmarked by the local dusty streets.

"I'd stand to greet you, Sir Altmer Imperial Agent, but I'm afraid my back isn't what it was. If you come nearer, I'd like to shake your hand, to Extend the Claw of Greeting" He smiled, somewhat forced.

"I'd rather not. Your kin are notorious shedders late in your lifespans, and I'd rather not have to clean my coat a third time this week already. Name's Briarbird, I have some questions" He glowered down at the Argonian, judging and contemplating, before snorting slightly.

"Let's see here" He produced a scroll from his coat, a subtle rattle of metal within, peering at its contents.

"Eyes-In-Stars, colloquially Sahtee-Haj-Ei, age estimated to be between five and six hundred years owing to regular consumption of Hist-Sap. Three previous partners, two female one male. At least fifteen offspring, regular contact with youngest daughter, Guides-Waters, seventy years of age, who currently acts as a Ritual Mother in Gideon. Reportedly to have undergone no less than four phases of gender alteration, with five offspring born from you directly" He droned on, making it clear exactly where Eyes-In-Stars stood in terms of dodging questions.

All it caused the Argonian was a spate of longing for home, and a distinctly sad expression at the mention of his former loves, his late partners.

"Well, a long and storied sort. Certainly more interesting than the average muck-wader, although not tremendously so. Anyway, let's begin with something simple; Your name, Eyes-In-Stars, I confess I don't honestly care why you would do so, but wouldn't it be more accurate to state your name as 'Hidden Starred Eyes?' This some sort of culturally significant detail?"

"That's certainly an interpretation one could glean, Sir Briarbird. I largely structured my name the way I do because it's more interesting, a little mysterious AND allows me this little rhyming ditty when abbreviated down, it goes like thi-"

"Right, of course. Now, I understand you have visited the Imperial City before, somewhere between fifteen and twenty occasions registered. I trust the business conducted with each was the same as your current announced profession as a peddler of crudely brewed curatives?"

"If by crude, you mean slightly chunky and designed to be chewed first, correct! Nothing like a cure that fills the belly as well, like a good wholesome soup or stew" Eyes-in-Stars smirked. Briarbird's expression hadn't changed yet, and the Argonian was well aware it was a losing battle to rectify that.

"Fascinating" He muttered dryly "How did you come across this specific cure for the Collywobbles? I wouldn't have thought a race who's few notable gifts include a resistance to disease would have an especially robust knowledge of healing such a thing?"

"Of course not; back home, we would cut ritualistic wounds into our torso, bury ourselves up to the neck in the mud around the Hist Tree and have the bad blood pulled from it by the reaching roots. I stumbled across this cure from an old friend in Bruma while visiting, old Nord folk-healer"

"Lies concerning curing diseases not withstanding, the Nord healer story corroborates with what we know. What doesn't match up is your timing and arrival of both you and the crates of components" Briarbird narrowed his eyes, at last changing expressions slightly.

"Sir Briarbird, I peddle cures and restoratives all over, and you learn to keep an ear-hole to the ground when it comes to sweeping plagues. As soon as I heard of a spate of the condition in Skingrad a few days prior to the Three Giants Debacle, I sent word to a friend of mine to make some purchases on my behalf" Eyes-In-Stars stopped grinning and stared at the Altmer.

"I suppose you expect me to believe that you did so out of the goodness of your heart? Not for any sort of profit? I wouldn't also suppose you expect me to believe you had no reason to send something, perhaps a bundle of sacked articles that were found delivered in the docks where the initial spread began? Also from Skingrad?" He loomed over the Argonian, the already intimidating stare seemed even more visible in the gloom.

"That's a horrible implication, Sir Briarbird. I trust you've also followed my letters around Cyrodiil? You're a very thorough investigator" The old lizard's tone was firm, flat. Briarbird's expression finally broke fully, a sneer of someone who'd run a longwinded game of chess against an old, detested rival only to be blindsided by his opponent dying before an actual outcome.

"Quite so, lizard. Sadly, nothing pointing to a delivery from Skingrad to the Capital. I'm not fully convinced you are or aren't an An-Xileel agent, but one misplaced scratch and I'll have you dragged in, stripped down and robbed of what you know before a solitary flake of lamina can touch the floor" Briarbird replaced the scroll back into his coat, only to produce another.

"I also have the detestable 'honour' of delivering this. An Imperial summons from Emperor Martin Septim himself; he wishes to meet with you, no doubt to misguidedly celebrate your obvious ploy to garner trust by curing the populous. A week to this day, eight in the evening. I would suggest you be better dressed for the occasion; the invitation can be shown to any tailor of your choosing to have an outfit made for you free of charge" Briarbird flipped the scroll onto Eyes-In-Stars and he walked out without another word.

"Farewell, Sir Briarbird...." he waited a few moments "...fucking golden knife-eared cunnnNNNgrrgh" He interrupted himself as his back twinged again. It was going to be a long week.

2:Normality at the Scene of the Old Crime

Anvil was certainly a changed place, and not necessarily for the obvious reasons. The Mages guild, crushed under the posterior of a giant Khajiit, the Mermaid statue was still just an empty stand with the rubble cleared, Castle Anvil had further collapsed from a storm that rolled through not long after Katia's pardon. Countess Umbranox currently resided in an old estate, Benirus Manor, recently haunted but cleared out, refurnished with what could be reclaimed from the castle.

It wasn't all doom and gloom, though. A great deal of funding, courtesy of High Chancellor Ocato, had the town filled with craftsmen, builders and other manpower. Each man complete with a commissionary coinpurse, and the various traders were left unscathed from the origin point of the Three Giants Debacle. Coin was flowing, especially with Anvil being one of, if not THE, main port of Cyrodiil besides those able to get up the Niben. Ships docked in Leyawiin as well, but transporting goods to the Imperial City was a costly, slow affair by land, not to mention the ongoing issues with the Black Bows, although this was abated for a time owing to recent Imperial 'cleansing'.

This would all largely be elementary though; the heartland of the continent of Tamriel looked after its cities mostly. Still, the damage done was considerable, and so many workers would be mostly useless if materials were far and few between. Ships routinely brought in a lot by themselves, although with limited dock space, and a major warehouse broken during the event, the ships took time moving into and out of each others' way.

A pair of guards stood by the front gates of Anvil, enjoying a cool, if grey skied day, dull glow somewhat more westward than directly overhead. A conspicuous water basin sat just off the path, pristine and masterfully crafted marble, deep coloured markings encircled the inside of the bowl with water rather perfectly filled to a middle line. It was adorned with a bronze plaque, dated of the Debacle, a list of names of those who died during the event, and sat in a protective walled arrangement, guarded from the wind.

It was somewhat tasteful, although this aesthetic didn't carry over to its practical application. One of the guards, a Redguard, narrowed his eyes and stared for a moment, swearing he saw motion, and was rewarded as the waterline rippled. The dark skinned man frowned somewhat, and breathed deeply.

"You want to tell them or shall I? She's nearly here" He said to his companion, an Imperial, broke from his daydream and looked across, then at the basin as it rippled again.

"I'll go. Need to stretch my legs a bit anyway" He said, yawning as he approached the slightly ajar gate, slipping within.

The Redguard man watched the ripples, each roughly spaced some four seconds apart. After a few more, he felt it through the floor instead, a distant vibration, a tiny earthquake. Pointed yellow, pink interiored ears appeared on the horizon, followed by yellow, slitted feline eyes, a pink nose. Each vibration now accompanied by a low, heavy thump a moment later.

The enormous Khajiit was still an alarming sight to the Redguard. He had witnessed the terror of her rampage first hand, lost a friend during it as well, and no Imperial pardon or honestly helpful labour was going to change that.

Nonetheless, Katia Managan was on the approach. Her neck came into view, a thin scarf wrapped around it and trailing further down beyond the hill. A series of ropes wrapped down from beneath the coiling cloth, down to a pair of ships sails covering what most would consider too little catperson breasts. The quaking steps send a ripple across her body that resulted in an undulation of soft, pliable flesh that anyone with a taste for the beastfolk could enjoy. After all, a single step was causing some five seconds of motion.

Fascination wasn't something in the Redguard's sensibilities as he helped pull the gates open as Katia was now visible from the waist up. Her body was wrapped in something of a crude toga arrangement, or as much as the cloak come scarf could cover. Most times she was better covered than today, but then again, this wasn't most times; today, Castle Anvil was the target, along with the opportunity for expanding the town, and as evidenced by the vast quantity of building materials in her arms, everything approaching Anvil was bigger by far.

Six hundred feet tall, and carrying in excess of 50,000 tons of stone and wood supported in front of her. She looked tired, strained. Her arms, the swell of a modest bicep evident on each, and she had to lean back to offset the weight. Her hips had the same roped sails covering just enough to be not considered naked. It was mostly for others' benefit; Katia herself had lost most concern of being seen naked before even turning giant, her general drunken promiscuity was a hell of a way of changing a persons perspective on what was embarrassing.

As the gates opened, a large team of men and women, carts with no horses, made their way out of the town and straight north to a large, flattened and cleared span of field, all struggling to pull the carts despite the fact there were horses in the city. They stopped shy of it proper, every member of the builder crew watching as Katia drew close enough that they had to brace themselves, the ground shaking despite her increasing attempts to soften each footfall, although past experience had told her to not tip-toe; she'd dropped a delivery before; tears had been shed, so she simply slowed her pace.

Standing above the field, she adjusted her grip, the majority of the wood used to box in something of an arm supportable base for the stone. She crouched down, bending her knees smoothly, thighs and calves flexing with the physique of an amateur message runner, and slowly arched her back down to place the vast amount of material. With a sigh of relief, she rather awkwardly fell backwards, the huge pert butt impacting the ground a final time and knocking a few people off their feet as she relaxed for a spell.

Katia planted her hands on the ground, each flattened hand was a bit thicker than the people were tall, pink padded feet long as tall as the city wall. After a moment, she raised a hand to her scarf, and slowly lowered her hand down, a blue robed Argonian hopping down once the distance was safe, an odd, massive waterskin strapped around her shoulders throwing her balance off as she landed, it sloshed with a thick, pasty sound.

"Good day to you, Tar-Meena" One of the builder leads, an Bosmer woman approached "Looks like you came through; after the arguments we had last time, I wasn't sure if you would see reason"

"You realise that my companion isn't here for your personal profit, Eilabrea. Her service to Anvil shouldn't cover 'selling excess', even if the Countess agreed to your ideas"

"Well, the Empire will benefit in the end"

"Its roads won't! There's a reason the rules agreed were to keep Katia under two hundred feet; despite her caution, and rest a-damn-sured she did her best, half the road on the way here is damaged, cracked and worse, I suspect. I have half a mind to report you directly to Chancellor Ocato for this, and myself for even agreeing to this mad scheme!"

"You'll come around, my sweet. The quality of materials going to Hammerfell will earn such a price the amount spent recovering from the Three Giants Debacle will be paid back by years end if you'd only just play alo-"

'GGGGGGGGRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGLLLMGMMMM'

An enormous noise that seemed to fill the air itself and vibrate the ground cause everyone to clap their hands over their ears and crouch slightly, except for Katia, who patted a hand on her flat belly, running a finger down the traceable lines of developing abdominal muscles showing through the fur. She looked down and breathe-spoke, barely audible coming from anyone else, clear as day to the gathered workers.

"Sorry, Tar-Meena....can we get to shrinking me? I'm famished!"

The Argonian gave the Bosmer one last hard stare, then walked over to the colossus, casting a spell as she did. A meager clearing of Tar-Meena's throat rumbled like thunder, the words following it, some observers swore, moved the clouds above.

"Of course, Katia, I apologise. Go ahead and cast your 'purge' and I'll begin the siphon" She readied another spell, a deep, ominous red sphere forming in her hands as she got within touching distance to Katia's calf.

Katia herself raised a hand and a variety of colours gathered there, and with a loud crackling sound, a purple tinge flowed over her whole body and a bright colourful display emitted from her hand; a vast amount of magicka was instantly burned from the Khajiit's spirit, a literal mess of tiny spells to rather precisely empty her reserves, and Tar-Meena responded by casting, touching her companion through the thick fur, while her other hand glowed a brilliant blue.

Magicka was drawn from the Khajiit and subsequently slightly replenishing Tar-Meena though not as fast as it was being used, and a peculiar spell of her own devising was minimising the cost of the actual casting as well which just barely negated the casting draw in almost perfect balance. With a shudder, the Khajiit visibly began to reduce in size, sitting still obediently, simply enjoying the odd sensation once more. Feet of height were being pulled every second, Tar-Meena having to take the occasional, slow step to keep contact.

After a few moments, Katia felt her nipples expose themselves to the air as the ropes failed to keep hold of the diminishing catfolk. Likewise, down below, her womanly hips lost enough mass to maintain her decency as the underwear covering her womanhood also fell off, exposing her to all. If she cared, Katia didn't show it. After a bit less than five minutes, her shrunking came to a sudden stop as she reached her now normal twenty feet and four inch height.

Tar-Meena backed away to allow Katia stand and shake out the stiffness she always felt from both being so large every action had to be long considered, and also sitting bolt rigid for even those few minutes. She busied herself collecting her scarf, undergarments and coiling the ropes around themselves into a neat bundle of sail and hemp. Once piled up, she then headed to the material delivery and dug out her regular uniform, including a rope strung pearl amulet, securing it around her neck before getting dressed in the blink of an eye. A peculiar trait of the adventurous type.

Tar-Meena finally passed over the huge waterskin, Katia greedily popping the cork and gulping down the contents, a deeply nutritious if bitter oatmeal and plant blend; This wasn't the first time Katia had to consume the disgusting slurry, but it was a necessary evil; actual meals took a long time to make, so a hold out, fat rich and energy restoring, was a routine snack between her two main meals, as well as the fact they were relatively cheap to make and cook, and further still was the fact they kept for a good number of days in a sealed skin.

"I'm surprised she doesn't keep on growing if she wasn't wearing that amulet" Asked Eilabrea, watching the Khajiit wince and catch her breath before finishing the skin, placing it with her other stowed belongings.

"All parts are magically lightened for carrying when she's at her normal size, but the scarf also cuts off Katia's peak magicka storage as the amulet does. Expensive, and I always dread something'll damage it and we'll be subject to whatever upper limit she's capable of, but let's pray to the Nine that day won't occur. Anyway, good luck cataloguing the delivery, forest-hopper. I've got to make sure your proposed golden egg laying, tree-and-rock delivery goose doesn't go hungry" Tar-Meena walked into Anvil, and Katia remained outside, helping unload the delivery onto the numerous carts.

With the Khajiit sufficiently shrunk, other workers had since brought horses for the carts, an earlier experience of panicking equines was a quick lesson to not expose them to the giantess. Thankfully many had been conditioned to the still huge catwoman.

Hours of work, both and before the shrinking, left Katia tired, leaning against the city wall and half asleep. Her arms and legs ached, her belly growled louder still, already absorbing the oatmeal sustenance in its entirety, and she watched lazily as cart after cart of materials were dispatched into the town proper, when one returned back from the gates laden with a big stack of spit-cooked cow segments, and another with a large basin of dark coloured steaming liquid.

Eyes fully open again, a small line of drool fell from her maw as she resisted the urge to pounce on the cart. Tar-Meena assisted the other helpers unbridle the horses and take them away before Katia spooked them.

"Sorry for the wait, friend. Tuck in; a special mission deserves a special meal; Bruma-spiced beef and Cyrodiil blend tea" The Argonian gave a rare genuine smile and gave a slight bow as she stepped aside for Katia to crawl over and lift one of the cow husks up and rip into it with a more than enthusiastic, gleeful and contented purr.

Left to eat for a few minutes, a pile of bones, provided Katia didn't bite and chew through them anyway, soon gathered. Producing a journal, quill and ink, Tar-Meena scribbled inside before clearing her throat.

"So, I assume we've again proven the larger your size the more energy you burn up?" No verbal response, a nod, another cow picked up and rapidly stripped of meat.

"Seems to coincide with increased physical strain on your body, you've clearly developed more muscle than anyone should have in the time frame. You look as though you've been at this for a year, not two months. In fact I dare say if you had to do another trip that big immediately, you'd have passed out from malnourishment; your body would have started cannibalising itself. Still, at least a lingering magical effect is lending some transfer of the food you eat to your bigger sizes, otherwise you'd be malnourished within minutes, if not seconds"

Katia opened her mouth post swallow, only to belch.

"Oops, sorry....yeah, I was really struggling at the end there. That said, these leggings are getting pretty tight, so I guess I am growing outward from growing upward, eh?" She smirked and took a heavy couple of gulps from her tea.

"It's something of a worry. I suggest we stick to more deliveries of less material for the rest of your Anvil trips. We've got three more and you're to be put back on standard duty. That said, with the size of this delivery, I've been authorised to tell you that your request to join Quill-Weave on her break from duty has been approved."

Katia had resumed eating, but her tail began wiggling rapidly. Evidently the upcoming response was going to be a tad more enthusiastic.

"YES! Finally! I haven't seen her...uh...in person since I left the Imperial City" She blushed slightly, Tar-Meena was aware something happened that night following Katia's failed attempt of arresting the Nord bandit, but attempts to document the full extent of the occurrence were hindered by the giantess acting like a lovesick kitten, staggered words and fiddled fingertips.

"You have a full week beginning two days time. That's ample time for a quick return to Cheydinhal for a debrief, and we would ideally like you to tell us where you plan to go by messenger once you meet up with Quill-Weave and discuss it; I know it seems like we're prying or coddling, but having a woman who, if not careful, can grow so big she can flatten cities go around unchecked..." she suggestively didn't finish the line, Katia nodded back after finishing her last cow section, resting back with her tea basin and patting a very obvious food-baby protruding even beyond her armour.

"Yes ma'am!" Katia beamed. Katia looked at the darkening sky as night loomed closer, picking fragments of meat out of her teeth with an extended claw, and Tar-Meena settled back to finish writing her report. You'd never call them friends, but they had a rapport, and the Khajiit hadn't looked happier in weeks.

3: A Meeting, Overdue

Quill-Weave balanced on the knife-edge of sleep and the waking world. She had returned from a final patrol, resting in the Wawnet inn, a fourth bout with the Black Bow Bandits fresh in her mind; this time an active siege on an Ayleid ruin they had occupied near Leyawiin. She didn't want to sleep just yet, sun still lurking late in the sky to the west, but fatigue had set into her well muscled limbs. A corner was dedicated to her, and she had become good friends with the innkeeper, Nerussa.

"One drink for the returning hero, on the house" The Altmer said, placing well cleaned washing basin on the table, filled with a strong, heady wine; something strong and frankly unpleasant, but Quill had taken a liking to it; after all, it was alcoholic. That was all the characteristics she needed.

"Thanks, ma'am" Quill smiled at the pretty, tall, gold skinned woman with honest gratitude. She reached for the basin, hissing slightly as her shoulder ached; a bandaged wound, a thrown spear, from the last encounter, several other scratches and healed minor wounds were along the full stretch of her body, although very few were visible. She was wearing the same repaired vest and leggings she had the last time she had a drink, and she was thankful that it was unlikely she would end it wound up in a dream where she sat on a city and indulged in certain acts afterwards.

Quill-Weave blushed slightly, glad the other occupants weren't too familiar with the subtle further reddening of her face, and lifted the drink with her unharmed arm, settling back and sipping the sour wine with a relaxed sigh. It probably wouldn't get her drunk but hopefully enough to relax. She was still awaiting word from Katia's handler, or from Katia herself.

One extra adornment sat on her moderate clothing; a pin on the short collar. It was difficult to see, a subtle thing further reduced by her fourteen foot height, but it was something to be proud of, something meaningful; Quill-Weave was a Knight-Errant.

Sure, she knew it was too soon to realistically expect that sort of rank, but that was the problem with being unique; the sooner you reach a potent rank above the usual grunts, the sooner you can foist them on special contracts to abuse the fact that you no longer have to routinely send her around the country, costing a bundle on travel costs. Here, she had three free meals at the Wawnet Inn each day; the surplus and leftover food delivered daily from the markets. Being mostly poison and disease proof certainly made the questionable fare easier to swallow, everything else was masked by potent spices she'd ordered in from Black-Marsh, kept behind the bar. Otherwise it was a short walk to the stables by the City gates for Quill's bed, a well carpentered extension to the horse stables.

Largely her mission was an ongoing hunt for Mythic Dawn members; realistically it meant she was on bounty duty and keeping an ear-hole to the ground for trouble. Frankly she preferred the solitude rather than being ordered about, although she smirked firmly at the thought that she now outranked Katia, who was apparently still an Agent. A reversal of fortune over Quill's previous of Auxiliary, but then again, having an actual mission to complete, it made sense she'd be put on a rank where she wasn't expected to chase criminals.

Still, a little relaxation was just what was needed. Quill-Weave was nervous about meeting Katia again, considering their last liaison in the mind, but it couldn't be worse than being stabbed with a spear. She gulped down the rest of the soured wine and reached around a dividing wall from her position and the bar, placing a few septims onto the surface.

"Whenever you're ready, I'll have another" She place the basin back on there afterwards.

Quill-Weave thought back to her books, and wondered if they sold quills suitable for her large hands, to write about the last couple of months. Well, write about the months as a base, she'd need to spice things up a bit; Most folk probably wouldn't get behind a giantess as a sneaking archer, loosing arrows at the distance; that'd be stupid, stealth archers were overplayed.

Probably some sort of scantly clad warrior woman, maybe a bit shorter than she was, still towering over everyone else though, otherwise the size difference would be a bit difficult to really make use of. Quill-Weave had only found she was at a frustrating middle point between the impressive and the conventional, a state where swords and arrows injured still, she was a major target for them, especially for a lifetime of being flighty in a scrap; she deep down wished she could change her size as she did in her lucid dream with Katia. An envious thought passed through, wishing she had the same condition as her Khajiiti counterpart.

A tap on her shin snapped her from her drifting thoughts, the sound of a liquid filled basin clonking on the table put Quill-Weave's feet back on the ground. The Argonian looked down and saw a smirk on Nerussa's face, and offered a slightly bashful grin in return.

"Sorry, I was miles from here for a moment" She sat up again, and had to contemplate which arm to reach the basin with, picking the uninjured one again and saving herself from muscle memory exacerbating the wound.

Note to self, she pondered as she sipped the sour drink, must see if Katia could teach me that healing spell.

A few more gulps later, and at long last, there it was; that light fuzziness at the edges of her vision. She wasn't drunk, not on a conventional couple of glasses of wine in equivalence to an average sized person, but the overdone wine, a failed batch of a stronger type, was settling in nicely. She sighed as she finished the basin once more, more coins and replacing the vessel on the bar. Sobriety was overrated.

A third, and a fourth basin later, and at last, Quill-Weave knew that she would likely slur her words if forced to talk, although she still had a firm grip on things. She'd be useless at fine detailed work or writing, but this was a nice place to stop. She peered outside, the evening making way to nighttime at a nice rate now. Another hour or so and off to bed, then the next day, Katia should arrive before noon.

Again, her eyes threatened to close, only to earn another interruption, a brown bearded and pot-bellied Nord, though still thick of arm, poked her on the calf.

"You, Lizard" He growled. Quill recognised him, she'd spotted him retire to his room earlier. A customer, a patron, not a regular though. All the same, she rolled her eyes slightly as she realised she couldn't take her usual route concerning tavern etiquette.

"Can I assist you, citizen?"

"Yeah, you can, bootskin. You, me, out back, now" He thumbed towards the door. Quill-Weave offered an alternative gesture using the finger two away from the thumb, and used the protruding finger to bump the Nord in the face.

"I'm giving you one chance here to fuck off before I snap you like a twig" Quill-Weave bared her sharp teeth and stared him dead in the eye. He looked deeply worried for a moment, glanced at a nearby window oddly, then puffed his chest again and returned his hostile stare.

"Not taking no for an answer, pondscum! Meet me out back!" He walked briskly away and out the door.

Quill-Weave's relaxation died before it had a chance to live a fruitful existence, and grumbling under her breath, she clenched a fist and stood up, keeping slouched to not bump her head against the ceiling. She accidently kicked a table here and there, waving an apology to the Altmer at the bar, and crawled through the door.

The cooling air outside was refreshing, helping Quill shake a little of the haze, as she saw the Nord jog around the corner. She stood up stretching to her full height, and stomped around the corner to follow. Another corner turned, she looked about. No Nord, he'd no doubt fled to circle around the front again.

Firing up her brain a little, she double backed on herself, only to walk muzzle first into an invisible wall. A female grunt, not her own, sounded as Quill fell off balance and toppled over backwards.

The Argonian looked confused for a few moments as a tall, yellow furred figure appeared before her, looming overhead, dressed in a simple green jerkin and belted knee length breeches, some shin fur poking between them and her simple, tall boots.

"Excuse me, little lady, you look a bit lost" A pointy toothed smile, an attempt to look calm like some sort of smoothtalking lady, but with a sudden gasp, and a wetness of the eyes, she couldn't keep up appearances. She giggled gleefully and offered a hand.

"Katia? What- I wasn't expecting you until tomorrow!" Quill couldn't suppress her own broad smile, uncharacteristically for an Argonian, as she pulled herself up with Katia's hand and before another word was said, Quill leapt into Katia's arms, the two shared an extended, tight embrace, the Argonian's legs dangling off the floor roughly down to Katia's lower thighs.

"Uh...sorry to interrupt there" A familiar voice of the Nord returned. He sheepishly stood at the corner Quill had attempted to turn before she was joyfully interrupted.

"Sorry about the whole bootskin thing, missy. Your bigger friend there knocked on my window and told me to lure you outside. Just so there's no hurt feelings. Couldn't say no to you Daedra slaying hero types"

"It's fine" Quill murmured, not wanting to divert too much attention away from the feeling of body-heat against her, the thumping of the heartbeat in the Khajiit's chest as well as her own, the plushness of her breasts pushing barely into the underside of Quill's own through the clothing. As a dear, close friend to her once admitted to her, way back when; hugs were the best thing. Well, perhaps second best, considering what was dancing about the Argonian's mind. She peaked an eye open, glad the Nord had gone.

"Come on, let's go talk in private" Quill-Weave whispered, regretting having to let go as the pair finally seperated "Chestnut Stables, I sleep there" Katia slowly lowered the Argonian, and noticed the bandaging around her shoulder; she cast a spell, placing her hands over Quill's shoulders, the wound sealing itself, and the reptilian woman rotated the limb, smirking.

"Heh, same, but with the Black Waterside at Cheydinhal. I haven't forgotten the promise either; I've been keeping a corner free for when you move in" Katia winked at Quill, sharing an extended stare, before the two blushed and looked away like a pair of kids discovering these feelings for the first time. If anyone was watching, they'd likely be nauseated, and frankly, neither one could care any less if they were.

The pair made a rapid path across the recently repaired bridge, Katia having to duck under the gatehouses, but as expected the bridge was quiet, and those that traveled it knew better than to impede the two giantess' rapid journey across..

Climbing the slope and diverting at the gate, Quill-Weave unbolted the door and entered, helping the larger Khajiit through. An orcish woman nearby watched with a grin.

"Hey, Quill. Ah, see the big cat's back. You probably want some alone time, huh?"

"If it's not too much trouble, gra-Bura. If anyone comes knocking tonight or tomorrow, tell'em I'm busy. If they insist, tell'em to piss off. If it's Commander Phillida....shit, fine, send'em through, but ask him to knock!" the Argonian wagged a finger at the orcess, who raised her hands.

"No problem, big girl; I'll tell the guys to give you some space" Snak gra-Bura shook her head and went back to the stable proper.

Katia, finally having squeezed her ample posterior through the door, was soon followed by the Argonian, who slammed the door, bolting it shut within.

4: Disproving Infamy; The study of Katia Managan

Clothing was thrown about and within moments, red with green bellied scale met yellow and brighter underbelly on the large, sheeted hay mattress. Arms and legs intertwined as muzzle and muzzle met; barbed tongue and pointed tongue conjoined.

Katia could taste the sourness and alcoholic tinge of the Argonian's tongue, and hoped the traces wouldn't make her do anything she regretted. Not that any regrets were forthcoming as the world outside the room vanished from their practical reality. Soft furred and tough scaled hands locked together and the pair stopped, oh-so briefly to stare into each others eyes. Lust was obvious, absolutely, but the pair finally had a moment to really look at what the other wanted here. With great reluctance, the pair sat up, still touching each other, though with control; hands still locked, tails overlapping. Argonian head rested on Khajiiti shoulder.

"So" Quill-Weave caught her breath. "We should talk"

"Yeah....it's...it's been a long time without a real ability to work out where we stand. I still remember what you said, about blaming me and everything"

"I couldn't bring myself to say anything in my letters, knowing our bosses would likely read them at some point. But yeah, I've been thinking a lot about that night"

"Well, you first then, Quilly" Katia nuzzled the Argonian affectionately, then steeled herself for what would be said.

"So..." Quill inhaled deeply, gathering the courage to say what she wanted- no, had to say.

"Katia, let me tell you first and foremost, no matter what happens now, or in the future. No matter what I said in my moping, empty headed state when you entered my dream, that I will always be your friend, and a dear one at that. I can think of nobody else I could ever hope for beside me for anything life throws at us"

Katia looked a little more worried now. Nowhere near as bad as Quill-Weave assumed she might considering how conservative she'd been and throwing the f-word around. Calling someone a friend when you had just been all over each other might suit some, but this was a difficult negotiation.

"Now, I know I'm being influenced by that spell, Katia. I know you have no control in it, but I struggle to know how I really feel about you. I want your touch, and your heart beating with mine...but is that because of the spell? I just feel like we might need some time to-"

"I love you"

Time stopped, Quill-Weave's heart certainly did and only the sound of crickets chirping outside proved her otherwise. Her red eyes blinked and she opened her mouth a few times but she was beyond the capacity to form words. Katia took the helm.

"I know how you feel; I FELT it myself, the doubts, the confusion...but I know that no matter how you feel about me, you're the first person I've known for as long as this that hasn't used me, just cast me aside, and I doubt I'll ever find someone like you again if we can't make this work. I also get that makes me sound needy, and grabby and immature...I....I don't think I've ever felt romantic love before, not until that dream. It's how I got into it, it wasn't me you were talking to, but I had possessed your memory of Dar-Ma, the feelings you knew she had for you, merging with the ones I had developed. I took them into myself, and I knew it, then and there, that for once in my miserable list of failures of a life, I LOVED someone. I love you!"

Quill-Weave tried to control her breathing. The spell influencing her was trying to drag her brain into a mushy, pliable state, to profess her potentially artificial love back. Quill knew for both their sakes, that couldn't happen.

"M...maybe we should sleep on it, right? I mean, emotions are running hot and....um...." Quill-Weave looked about the room rapidly, her mind swam and nothing made sense any more, her own words garbling. She looked inside and tried to break the situation through the stifling air. The Argonian tried to play the same trick Katia had done to her, in that one moment a month ago.

"I mean, if it's some 'comfort' you want? Nothing says we can't be friends with a little fun, if you're interested. I kinda owe you one from that dream anyway; took me ages to come down from that. You REALLY know your way around me despite being straight, eh? Though I guess if you know from Dar-Ma...then you know what I could do for you, hm?" Quill fingerwalked her other hand across Katia's thighs towards her intimate parts, only for the one still in Katia's own to get squeezed, hard, knuckles forced together.

"Stop, Quill-Weave" Katia looked angry, even betrayed.

"I mean, you did it to me, and I....you...you're kinda well known for-"

"Stop, shut up!" Katia yanked her hand from Quill's, she dragged herself into the corner as far as she could, clutching her head and covering her eyes. She started sobbing, loudly.

Quill-Weave again had a deeply confused heart and mind mixup. How did a promiscuous, lustful Khajiit, who'd had so many partners, suddenly seem so afraid of a casual fling?

The Argonian's mind finally seemed to make sense to herself; the enchantment acting on it was temporarily shoved aside as Quill-Weave, not some subservient, sexually frustrated woman, imposed order on things; it was a moment of clarity, and not one she wanted to squander.

She carefully moved closer, and gently rested a hand on Katia's arm.

"Katia, tell me what's wrong? As long as it takes, I'm here for you"

Katia broke from her position and pulled Quill-Weave into another embrace. Silence carried over between the two barring the occasional sniffle from the Khajiit. An hour passed, nothing but simple, honest contact with no subtext outside of comfort. Finally, Katia cleared her throat, and took a deep, steady breath.

"I hate myself, Quill....I've always hated myself. I hated who I was, I hated it so much I tried to reinvent myself, and who I reinvented myself into was the same whore, the same easy lay, the same weak and feeble kitten from Hammerfell. I hate everything I've done up until one, single point....and that's the moment you believed in me, not just once, or twice, so many times now, that I could be better. You probably don't think much of it; some stupid whore stumbling around naked and destroying your room, and scribbling in your book, and fucking everything up.

"But whatever you may think of what I do, I've loathed every moment I've carried with me. The only pleasure I've ever had from life is being fucked senseless by some stranger. I'd wake up detesting everything about what I'd done, I'd weep and cry, promising I'd never do it again. Then I'd be depressed because of what I'd done, and nobody was there for me, ever. Not my parents, not the people I thought loved me, nobody.

"I would bury the pain in a bottle, and when the bottle lifted me out of the self-doubts and loathing, there it was, the need for happiness, that brief window where I just wanted to feel good, another fuck, another new man to bring that awful window of elation, another wish for someone to love me. Sex has ruined me, and it's all anyone knew me for, and still do when I fucked Mehrunes Dagon to death! But at least that had meaning! I saved people with my own fucking shortcomings! It's the worst fucking thing that could have happened! I can't escape it, I feel like it's choking me!"

Katia stopped and stumbled for breath. Quill-Weave felt her eyes were wet in response as once again her own shortcomings, own wish for things to remain unchanged, were threatening another relationship. Katia closed her eyes and bared her teeth slightly as she tried to swallow the bile and bitterness back inside. Quill-Weave could only respond in one way, taking the step she'd been terrified of for two years, ever since meeting Dar-Ma. It was time to stop running, dodging the issue.

Wordlessly, she simply stood, turning to face Katia, and pressed her forehead against hers until the Khajiit calmed. Quill then gently pushed Katia down into a laying position, wrapped her arms around her neck, and tried to clear her croaky, tight throat, contrasting the clarity in her mind as the enchantment stayed well away, she pulled back slightly to stare into Katia's eyes, flat and expressionless; kissing distance, but only words.

"Yep, all of that, and more besides. A fuck-up beyond most levels people grade fuck-ups. You're also an annoying, clumsy, gullible crybaby" Quill-Weave's expression twisted into a good natured grin, voice clearing as she build momentum, watching Katia's slightly hurt but confused expression. Quill knew she was spending trust fast, but this was it, her counterpoint to Katia's deconstruction, a true dressing down, that the Argonian had experienced in her dream.

"On top of accidentally killing a fucking Daedric Prince, though, you've managed to turn yourself into one of the most powerful beings on Tamriel. You've learned magic most people could never hope to master, you're stronger than the burliest Orc, capable of crushing armies with a sweep of your hand. Most importantly, though Katia Managan, for being the biggest fuckup, and thus true to who you are? You're someone I want to be around, for as long as you'll take me because....well....

"I love you, too"

Katia couldn't hold back the gasp. She was born again, a new and better Katia Managan, her heart skipped a beat to allow the change before with one heavy thump, everything was different; vibrant and unspoiled.

"If you would allow me, I would like to prove and express my affection, if you would lay on your back" Intrigued, she did so, pulling Quill-Weave on top of her. The Argonian raised her hands, spreading them out for Katia to take. They clasped together, and Quill used the support to lower herself, and kiss Katia gently, a brief flick of the tongue met Katia's before she finished straddling the Khajiit's warm belly, feeling the slow rise and fall of it beneath her.

"Let me take care of you, my love" Quill smiled, and adjusted her position. With a flex of her muscular tail, Quill teased the Khajiit's intimate lips.

"Mm....I thought I just said sex ruined me" She wasn't entirely believing her own words, though. Quill-Weave could tell that despite everything, she wanted this, but needed the final bullet point on the matter.

"No, not sex. We'll come to that later in a real big way, 'cause you still owe me the full adventure you teased in my dream" She briefly nuzzled one of Katia's hands, before resuming using her arms to support her leaning over the massive, yet fragile Khajiit. "No. Here, and now; I'm going to make love to you"

Katia smiled and closed her eyes as Quill-Weave's tail slowly snaked its way in, making low, lazy circles as it gently, cautiously pushed further and further, pressing against the sides in rotation. The Khajiit moaned softly, a feathered breath so faint Quill-Weave needed to hear it again to affirm what they had. Her tail flicked about briefly, earning a deep, throaty gasp.

Quill-Weave felt her own arousal pushing in, she felt the impressive forming abdominal grooves through the fur that tickled her own slit. Truly, this once skinny yet dumpy stray was turning into a powerful woman, strong of body and magic. Quill-Weave realised she would have to rethink her warrior woman book, she had the perfect subject laying beneath her; with a broad smile and lidded, unfocused eyes as the Argonian pushed deeper once more, feeling her length finally reach a gentle, unselfish penetration that so many of the Khajiit's former lovers had ignored; not there for the gratification one receives, but gives, exclusively.

With one last adjustment, she side-saddled Katia's belly, sticky fluids stretching out from her original sitting position, and used the orientation to move the ridged top-form of her powerful tail to gently rub back and forth on Katia's upper passage, teasing around, waiting for that single spot. Katia's eyes shot open, she shuddered and gasped loudly. Their eyes locked again, longingly, knowingly; Katia had clearly never had someone learn her so well, a dumb grin beneath her cute pink nose.

"There she is..." Quill whispered, winking. Katia's hands clenched, but Quill ignored any pain she felt as she began to draw her tail up and down into her giant lover, just occasionally brushing that little spot maybe three inches in the roof of her flesh with the barest of nudges, eliciting a shudder, a sharp teethed open mouthed small, silent words of disbelief and praise of the Nine Divines that this time, sober, with a partner doing everything she could have ever dreamed for, even if she never knew it. The easy, moderate rhythm stayed the course, Quill doing her utmost to let the Khajiit enjoy it for as long as she could, Katia's legs flexing and wriggling together, arching her back, biting her lip, squirming as every nerve sent the most amazing feelings to her mind. Nothing she had experienced this, and nothing could ever compare.

Then all mention of anything else ceased, a single utterance telling all who could hear at that moment an unshakable truth.

"Quill!" That word, that name; it was seared into Katia's mind. For the first time and only time it would need to matter. It would forever be associated with everything positive in her new, second renewed life. Katia leaned up, and Quill moved in to capitalise. They shared a long, simple kiss, tongue tips lightly dancing.

In that moment, the pair became one entity in the soul. Quill-Weave pushed a heavy thrust and increased tempo, still holding each others' hands and still looking her partner in the eyes with a simple, old fashioned pleasure of being with each other. Knowing the end was coming, Quill-Weave raked the flanging of her tail for every penetrated inch of her tail as she retracted it against the Khajiit's most sensitive spot. Katia screamed, the cabin vibrated from the noise and her violent quaking of the body, her folds gushing violently as it pooled on the floor at the end of Quill's bed.

Katia's arms lost strength, and Quill slipped onto her, head buried between a furry cleavage. Katia's heart was pulsing rapidly, her lungs gasped for air as she tensed and relaxed over and over as the cascade overwhelmed the Khajiit, each shudder earning a long, loud gasp, sometimes peaking into a full, pleasured moan. It took a while, Quill didn't care how long but it felt a long time before Katia finally relaxed, subtle whimpers of joy on each exhale.

Quill-Weave couldn't have been happier even if she had been on the receiving end of this moment. But this night, it was all about Katia. She was an interesting study topic; Quill-Weave wanted to research it more, perhaps another night though, and next time they could exchange notes. Katia folded her arms around Quill-Weave and pulled her slightly up so the Argonian's muzzle was pressed alongside Katia' neck. Quill felt Katia's lips peck her shoulder, before coming to a complete state of relaxation.

Quill expected something whispered, or another action, but with a content sigh, Katia began to breathe in a subtle snore, a smile deeply embedded that wouldn't fade as easy dreams came to the giantess. Quill-Weave smiled in return and rested her head over Katia's shoulder, closing her eyes as the earlier exhaustion came back.

Argonian and Khajiit slept together for maybe the sixth time since they knew each other, until they got a hammock for Katia back in Anvil, but deep within each, as their minds flirted with fantasies and comforts in unconsciousness, they knew nothing could ever be better than this one night, although both couldn't wait to try again, as many times as it took.

5: Wanderlust.

Morning dawned, another glorious day in the Empire. Chorrol was barely in motion, yet a bright eyed young woman, broad smile, stepped from the Northern Goods and Trade shop. Dressed in a white, quilted doublet and a fine skirt of linen; she stepped forth, admiring the quiet town with a skip in her step and a wiggle of her tail, hands checking a number of small pouches and bundles she carried with her. She passed a number of kindred spirits, the early riser, as she took in a morning walk.

"Good morning, Dar-Ma. Looking in good spirits today!" An Imperial man, rough sack clothing and dirty, but nonetheless he smiled broadly. The pale green and orange Argonian curtsied.

"Likewise, Nermus, a good morning to you. A brilliant day like this, who could afford to be miserable!" Dar-Ma beamed, she reached into a pouch at her side without even a word or a gesture, handing across a handful of septims, half a loaf of bread and an apple.

"Divines bless you, m'lady" He said, graciously, half bowing at the gesture. He secured the food in a handkerchief, and placed the coins in a stitched up purse on his hip.

"I did ask if there were any favours you could do for mother, but she says everything's under control, I'm afraid. I'll keep asking though; once she sees how determined you are to make a go of a new life, she's sure to come around."

"That's most kind, m'lady. Thanks again" He waved as she headed off on her rounds.

A similar affair occurred with another of Chorrol's less fortunate, and a few more friendly passes, brightening her and the other citizens' day.

To one side though a cowled, armoured figure sat in the shade outside the Fire and Steel smithy, watching closely. A large, broad man, with a cleft lip parting his blonde, ragged beard and moustache, freshly shaven head visible if one looked close enough. His blue eyes trailed the Argonian's movements for a while, before he made a move to the gates.

Dar-Ma finished her walk, the refreshing breeze inspiring her; She briefly returned home to retrieve her bow and arrows, then went straight to the towns gate. She waved to the guards, each offering a friendly gesture in return, and made her way to the stables; a Dunmer nodding and smiling a greeting without words, mouth full of raw carrot, crunching happily to himself. Dar-Ma waited patiently for him to finish his mouthful.

"Morning Bongond, how's today treating you?" she smiled, any racial animosity that might be shared certainly wasn't on display. The two were clearly well acquainted.

"Very well, miss. Here for Blossom? She's just finished her oats a moment ago" The dark elf continued his simple breakfast as the Argonian turned the stable corner, a number of horses in their box stalls, including Blossom, her very own horse, a gift from her mother for her sixteenth birthday. Six years later, though, and they had a thorough bond. It wasn't any clearer that the brown and white horse nickered and nodded her head at Dar-Ma's approach. She slowly placed an open hand on the large animals nose and then her own muzzle.

"Morning, Blossom" she quietly spoke, enjoying the moment, feeling the horse breathing on short puffs from her nostrils against her scales. The Argonian busied herself grooming the beast for a time, before placing her saddle on the horse and leading her outside. With a final parting wave, she slowly took the horse East, following the road.

It wasn't a drastic distance down the way, a few minutes past Weynon Priory, when she saw something out of the ordinary; a figure, clad in metal and cloaked, laying still on the side of the road. Dar-Ma spurred her horse on a faster canter to narrow the distance, and observed the figure. If he was breathing, it was obscured, but she gasped as she saw the telltale signs of violence, a bloodied dagger nearby, his own cloak saturated in it.

"Oh no" Dar-Ma climbed down from Blossom, slowly approaching the man. She breifly looked at her bow, slung around her horses saddlebags, but decided to focus on the man. "Are you alright, sir?"

He groaned, low and laboured, in return. Dar-Ma immediately reached into a small, solid block pouch at her side and produced a red potion, kneeling beside him as he still lay facing away.

"Here, sir, drink this, it will help!" She carefully cradled the man onto her lap, only to receive a gauntleted fist into her face for her concerns. She saw stars as pain shot across her muzzle, she gasped in shock and fell on her back. Before she could recover, the man, a Nord, mounted her and drove several more blows into her head.

"You'll do, girlie" He muttered, watching the now still Argonian woman for any sign of motion, before standing, picking up the healing potion as he did, securing it into his own bandoleer with several others.

A whinnying drew his attention, the horse the Argonian had rode on was hopping on her back legs, half rearing. The Nord picked up the bloodied dagger as he drew nearer to her.

"Easy there, dumb animal....c'mon, let's go for a walk" He was gentle enough to grab her bridle straps, and began leading it into the forest past the unconscious lizard woman. He took the horse just off the path, beyond some of the trees. It would be the second animal he'd kill in this area, the first one he hunted down being a dead deer.

Being no rider or expert on horses, he was caught unawares as the horse suddenly screeched and bucked at the sight of the disembowelled deer, the source of the Nord's bloodied garments and blade, as well as his morning breakfast. He just had enough time to spin and drive the knife into its back leg as it flailed at him, kicking him to the floor. Adrenaline stopped the horse from reacting to the wound as it bolted east, knife still embedded. The Nord grunted and stood up, unharmed but slightly winded.

"Shit...oh well, better elsewhere than here" He returned to his remaining victim, dragging her out of sight of the road. He produced a sack with a rope lined around its mouth, securing it around her head, pulling it probably tighter than it needed to be, tying up her arms and legs, then plucking her off the floor and over his shoulder, turned South-west.

"Those inbred freaks better honour their side of the bargain...can't believe I'm back to kidnapping fucking pondscum of all things"

It was a fair trek to Hackdirt, but it should be worth the while.

Meanwhile, outside the Imperial City;

It was always a challenge; reading the expression of the 'beast' races. Alien physiology, atypical and conflicting methods of showing even basic concepts, facial gestures and emotions were a constant challenge. It might even be a reason why so many of the Khajiit and Argonian kin were watched with greater scorn by the law; if you have to watch a criminals expression when questioning to help determine guilt, you needed better ways of securing such a conviction without such an assessment.

There was no questioning the expressions on these two, though; one only as tall as the belly of the other. They walked, hand in hand, the taller Khajiit lazily swinging her other arm care free and seemed on the verge of skipping; her shorter reptilian companion, arm slightly up and hooked slightly from their uneven heights, slightly quicker walking pace. The two smiled warmly, knowingly. If it was a sickening sight the day before, now another plague could be upon the city.

The passing folk watched with quirky stares and upturned eyebrows as the highly unusual and very clearly in love couple walked off the bridge, both freshly washed, soapy bubbles still visible on the other end of the slow flowing Rumare, the Khajiit's fur still puffed slightly, the Argonian's rust coloured scales glistening. The world could end and they would have no regrets.

They stopped for a while in the Wawnet Inn, eating their fill while gazing into each others' eyes. The well prepared Altmer publican had anticipated this having watched the previous nights actions from the window, as well as being financed by the Empire proper; fifteen meals worth of food wwere delivered to their table as they whispered to each other, and others' inclination to sit away from them was well justified, unless they wanted everything turned saccharine.

"So, okay, it's not a honeymoon....yet" Katia purred as she licked her lips from her breakfast "But we have a week, where do you wanna go?"

Quill-Weave's smile slightly abated.

"So, during that dream, when I kinda flattened Chorrol....I know you remember a bunch of it, but did you know how it began?"

"I mean, kinda; I was feeling your emotions and those of the dream Dar-Ma but they were the initial feelings you gave her, not what she'd experienced as an entity within it; your love and attraction, though I'm guessing that's not how things left off?" The Khajiit leaned back against the wall, contentedly rubbing her belly.

"You could say that. I was being ignorant and stubborn. I had my reasons, but in the face of what I could have done, I reacted badly to being poked about moving to Chorrol to live with Darmy....Dar-Ma"

"So you wanna spend our first time out together as a couple meeting your ex?" Katia's ears flicked at odd angles, an expression of incredulity.

"Katty, I know how it looks, but I'd never live with myself spending my life with you without buring the hatchet, and with Seed-Neeus. I left her baying for blood; I honestly thought for a moment she'd send hitmen after me. You hear about that shit in Skyrim? You steal from a merchant there, they'll put a price on your head! It's crazy; the sort of stuff I stumbled across when researching my books, heh!" Quill continued the good natured laugh, sighing as she gave Katia a wink, then looking down at their table.

"It'd mean a lot to me if we could close that chapter with no regrets. A new Katia Managan needs a new Quill-Weave I think. Maybe I should go back to my non-localised name? Kakar-Sutheeth?"

"This so I can't call you Quilly, Quilly?" Katia smirked.

"Knock yourself out, big ears"

"I intend to, no ears!"

They laughed again. Nerussa rolled her eyes and shook her head, deciding to busy herself elsewhere cleaning tables than listen to the nonsense going on in Quill's corner.

Quill's eyes suddenly went wider, then she scoffed at herself. Katia tilted her head inquisitively.

"I'll tell you about it some day, but an Argonian I once briefly knew kinda pushed me on a slightly cynical path concerning the men and mer; I was trying to tell him how other folk weren't bad. He said talking like that I'd 'end up bedding a Catfolk'."

"Ooh, prophetic"

"That also started my love affair with alcohol"

"That's....something?" Katia shrugged, smiling but unsure how it correlated. It still gave the Khajiit a warm feeling just talking with Quill-Weave like this; absolute nothingness, just relaxed banter.

"So, anyway, I guess we should get going to Chorrol; should get there before sundown, so Seed-Neeus' shop should still be open. At worst we get kicked out and I can at least say I'm sorry; at best we get invited in and you get to try Dar-Ma's cooking; she's pretty good at it"

"Alright. Let's get going" Katia fiddled with a few septims from her coinpurse, picking them out between her index and thumb claw, and put them on the bar; she wasn't the resident giant funded by the Empire here at least.

The two got underway, heading north west following the Black Road. The only detour they had to make was circling around Fort Ash.

"What do you mean my ass is too big?" Katia pouted

"It is! Look at that tiny opening! As much as I'd like to watch you wriggle that fuzzy peach trying to get in, just walk around, silly"

"I'll have you know my ass is mostly muscle; all the squatting I do picking up and putting down rocks bigger than you are. I'll ALSO have you know, during my rest days in Cheydinhal, I have a tree I've hollowed out some grips into, I've been lifting as well! Check it out!" Katia flexed her respectable biceps. "I've had to add weighted barrels to each end, and each time a little more lead scrap!"

Quill-Weave couldn't help but stare, flushing slightly, wishing Katia would squeeze her in those arms, but this wasn't a time for affection, it was a time for childish posturing! She countered, lifting her shirt, exposing the well hewn grooves of her abdominals.

"Oh yeah? Check out these stoney six!"

Katia lifted her own jerkin, the inferior abs further obscured by fur, distinct lines but no paving panels visible.

"You win this round, Quilly" She gestured her index and middle fingers to her eyes, then pointed back at Quill with a silly, forced serious glare, before the two laughed and joined hands again, walking around the fort. Suddenly, both stopped; a horse squeal somewhere nearby.

"Sounds like it's in trouble....you think it's an Imperial patrol?" Katia looked down at Quill, both dropping the silly facade; duty called. Both ran further ahead, trying to get a fix on the sound. The road was empty, so their gaze turned into the forest either side of them. Finally, another squeal, northward.

Katia rolled her hand in a flowing gesture, fire spitting into life on her fingertips, controlled, disciplined and ready to fling. Quill brought her hands together, an orange, smokey orb that flicked wide, spreading thin and growing dark, a black, spiked bow appearing in her left hand, and a soft draw of her right hand, an arrow, pinched between her index and middle, ring finger for grip.

They slowly prowled amidst the trees, before spotting an opening; sure enough, a horse, rear leg raised, bloodied from a dagger embedded in the thick thigh.

Quill-Weave recognised the horse immediately, but before a word could be uttered.

"Wolves!" Katia sharply whispered, pointing to the low, skulking beasts encroaching on the horse, following the bloody trail.

"We've gotta protect that horse!" Quill dipped ahead and went to full draw, loosing before Katia could respond, but did so with a flash of flame, hurled true. The foremost wolf didn't even have time to yelp as it was double-struck with conjured projectile and searing heat, charring it. The quirk of Katia's enlarged size enhancing the potency of many of her spells.

Bared teeth and heavy barking sounded from the rest, but the sight of a huge, potentially more dangerous predator sent the other wolves fleeing in quick order. Quill loosed a few lazy arrows as insurance, but it was over quickly. That said, the presence of two larger 'beasts' made the already damaged and exhausted horse try and lift itself into moving, only for it to stagger. Katia made a quick path to it, only to be kicked in the knee by the beast as it tumbled from the desperate attack.

"Ow, stupid thing!" She gripped the horse by the middle, only for it to turn and bite a finger.

"Dammit, Quill! Help me out here"

Quill rounded to the front of the horse, dispelling her bow as she did. She lowered herself, tried to make herself smaller.

"Easy girl, easy there Blossom...it's Quill-Weave! You remember me?" Quill slowly approached in her low crouch, the horse still wasn't convinced, but the two of them managed to at least keep the beast enclosed long enough to keep it in place.

"This isn't gonna be pleasant...Katia, get your healing spell ready"

The Khajiit did so, and Quill yanked the dagger out of Blossom's thigh, earning a shrill scream from the poor thing. Katia immediately set to casting, a couple of times to play it safe. As the pain subsided, and Quill resumed keeping a firm, slow stroke of the horses neck and grip on the bridle straps, the horse calmed down.

"Old friend?" Katia said, licking her teeth-pinched finger.

"Blossom? She's Dar-Ma's....." Quill-Weave's expression turned to horror. "No....what's happened to her!?". Both looked at the dead wolf, then the trail they followed; fresh blood to follow. They moved as fast as they dared, Blossom in tow.