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varlaisvea · 5 days

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WIP Wednesday today!

This was the thing that started it all! This was the start of what is now a novel-length fic that I have not posted. It got moved to the prologue, and now might get left out entirely, though I hope I can find a way to include it!

Pairing: Razum-dar & The Vestige (canon)* Words: 5.3k Rating: T, alcohol and allusions to sex Summary: After a fraught visit with Raz's family, Razum-dar and the Vestige have a drunken heart-to-heart. Or something vaguely analogous. (Takes place after the ESO: Elsweyr quest "Home Sweet Home") (*Note: For lulz and challenge reasons, I wanted the Vestige to be the same as they are in-game in ESO, where the canon Vestige lacks a soul and knowledge of their past. Much like the written content of ESO, this Vestige POV also contains no mentions of the Vestige's name, race, age, gender, or any other identifying characteristics. But in a fun and cute way, at least I hope!)

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The food was good, and the overall mood was pleasant, but I’ve certainly been to less tense family dinners. And I don’t even have a family.

“Where are you headed now, my friend?” Raz asks me, after we both say our goodbyes to his family. “If you are not sick of this one by now, you are welcome to travel with Raz to Elden Root.” He does not look enthused about going to Elden Root.

“What’s in Elden Root?” Raz sighs heavily. “The closest portal to Eyevea. Raz dislikes travel methods that disassemble and then reassemble your entire existence, but he does what he must for the Dominion.”

“What’s in Eyevea?”

“All Raz knows so far is that he is meeting a Psijic who claims to have important information, and apparently has very questionable motives.”

“Sounds like the type of work you’re best at.”

“Yes, subterfuge is one of Raz’s many, many sleek specialties, as you well know,” he says, buffing his claws. “But this one has a feeling about this mission.”

I feel a little guilty that I’m more intrigued than concerned, but I’m going to chalk it up to faith in Raz’s abilities. “Sounds like it’s not a good feeling,” I say.

“Just so.” He sighs again. “Her Majesty would not send the captain of her guard, Brogomir, to personally retrieve Her Majesty’s most valuable agent, Razum-dar, from a vacation she herself imposed on him—to send said extremely dashing agent to a secret, inaccessible mage island in a pocket dimension, where anyone with political business is distinctly and explicitly unwelcome—if this were not a very weighty matter for the Dominion.”

“You make a good point,” I say, and now I am even more intrigued, but also concerned.

“To meet a member of the Psijic Order, no less! We know how the Psijic Order feels about the Mages Guild, yes?”

Right, totally, I guess I remember they have beef or something? I nod.

“This is why Raz suspects that Her Majesty could use your help, if you do not have more urgent business.”

He seems more cautious than normal. I think there’s something he’s not telling me. Then again, there always is. “Elden Root’s as good as anywhere, then!”

“Ah, fragrant, as the folks back home—uh, here—would say. Raz will meet you in Elden Root, then!” He heads off without another word—he seems like he’s in a hurry to leave Merryvale.

Despite all I’ve accomplished, I haven’t been in this reality very long, so there are some things I don’t understand yet. For example, why do people always want to meet me somewhere when we’re going to the same destination? It seems like traveling together would leave less chance of getting separated or side-tracked.

Nevertheless, somehow when I get to the inn in Elden Root, Raz has already been there long enough to book us some bunks at the inn, find a quiet place to drink, and make a pretty good dent in a bottle of moon-sugarcane rum. He has found a place not too far from the inn, but a lot nicer: the roots of the Great Tree are wide enough to sit ten people from side to side, and the one Raz is sitting on overlooks a waterfall and the river; the setting sun lights up the arches of the Elden Root Temple in the distance. He even brought a blanket to sit on.

As I get closer, I see he has scrapes all over his face and neck that he definitely didn’t have when we left Merryvale. “Whoa, what happened to you?”

“Five-claw!” he says, as if he didn’t just see me in Merryvale. “So glad you could make it! Please, do not worry about old Raz,” he says, pouring a drink. “There was some confusion after this one placed an order for supplies—” he holds up the bottle of rum. “The vendor called out ‘order for Raz’ and a tall, intimidating, very muscular Orc went and grabbed all the parcels! Raz, this one, had to confront him—”

“Oh, no…”

“—it turns out his name was Roz, spelled differently. A simple misunderstanding!” Raz laughs.

“So… what happened to your face, then?’ I ask, sitting down next to him on the blanket.

“Well, this one and the Orc Roz decided to split one of the bottles of rum. Events unfolded, and we found ourselves in a… heated… conversation.”

“Oh,” I say, grimacing. “Seems like it didn’t end well.”

“Ah, no, Raz should have been clearer—this was the type of ‘heated’ ‘conversation’ that typically ends very well.” He is already drunk, so that joke delights him. “Contrary to what this one’s mother says about him, he can say no to a pretty face, he just does his best not to make a habit of it, yes?” He takes a drink. “And, you must agree, it would be grievously unjust for this pretty face to deny due consideration to all reasonable requests.” He grins.

I roll my eyes. How did he even have time for that? “Right, so… the Orc.”

“Yes, Roz. You may be wondering, how is kissing accomplished with so many differently-shaped fangs involved? Or maybe you do not need to wonder at all, ha!” He tips his cup to me. “But this evening, Raz was reminded that the answer should be very carefully.”

I search my pack for something to eat—it’s been about two or three hours, so I’m hungry.

“You are a member of the Mages Guild, yes?”

I nod. “And the Psijic Order.”

“Of course you are.” He shakes his head and takes a drink, then looks back at me. “Raz did not want to sound concerned,” he says, “but the truth is he is very glad to have you along.” He finishes what’s in his cup. “Arriving in Eyevea will be possible with your help—this one did not exactly have a plan of his own.”

“Glad I could—“

“—And, as an additional benefit, Raz will now have time to threaten you appropriately!” Raz says cheerfully. “Raz assumes it is healthy to have one’s ego culled from time to time, but it was quite unfortunate that you saw what this one’s family thinks of him.” He refills his cup generously. “Raz is glad you have also seen how adept he is at killing, because he is going to swear you to secrecy about his relationship with Mother and Rakhzargo.”

I roll my eyes again as I take a bite of my Longfin Pasty with Melon Sauce. “Who would I tell, Raz? Surprisingly, the subject of how much your family likes you has never come up in conversation with anyone but you,” I say, with my mouth still full for extra mockery.

He laughs. “And it should stay that way, yes? Captain Brogomir’s arrival was what made Raz’s mother and brother change their tune, so luckily Brogomir did not hear them calling Raz a good-for-nothing drunkard,” he says, with an obvious note of bitterness. ”You are the only one who knows.”

“Heh. You think Brogomir didn’t already know you’re a good-for-nothing drunkard?”

“Funny, five-claw. Raz knows Ziz Kurah, incidentally.” I realize how much he doesn’t sound as playful as he usually does when he threatens to kill me. He sounds… kind of hurt, actually. I look up from my meal to see that he’s already nearly done with the cup of rum he just poured. Maybe it’s best to change the subject. “So… what’s next?”

Raz finishes what’s in his cup. “Tomorrow we go to Eyevea and meet with this Psijic. Raz does not know much more than that.” He uncorks the bottle to refill his cup. “Tonight,” he says with a dark sigh, pouring himself a generous amount of rum, “this one intends to get very drunk. One reason we’re staying at an inn—this is frowned on at the Altmer embassy.”

It’s obvious the time in Merryvale upset him. Raz and I have been through a lot together, I realize—he’s one of the closest friends I’ve made in my travels. But I’m not sure if he wants to talk about it, or just get drunk about it. Either way, I wasn’t doing anything this evening. “Could I be helpful with that, too?”

Raz grabs another large bottle of rum from his pack, and sets it down proudly next to him on the blanket. “Ah, five-claw! Truthfully, this one is just as relieved to have you with him on this evening’s journey as he will be to have your help tomorrow!” He reaches into his pack, pulls out another stone cup, and pours me what’s left of the bottle he’s been working on. He lifts his cup to me so we can tap them together.

I down mine—pleasantly sweet—and I’m a little relieved to see Raz take a subdued sip of his. The last rays of the sun shine brilliantly though the tree canopy and make the top of the waterfall appear golden. We share a long, cozy silence.

“So,” Raz says finally, “how did you like Merryvale? Raz must seem like a different cat to you, now that you’ve seen where he comes from.”

“It’s a beautiful place.”

“Yes, and you met this one’s beautiful neighbors, to whom Raz made many beautiful promises when he thought he would never be coming back to Merryvale.” He takes a long drink. “Raz thanks you in advance, as he knows you will also not be telling anyone how that ended.”

I swish around the rum in my cup, then finish the rest of it. “Did you really think you were never going back there, when you told them?”

He sighs, and finishes what’s in his cup. “Sometimes love makes people do irrational things,” he says. “And now you know, this one has been in love at least three times, so… that’s very irrational, yes?“

“If making promises you don’t plan to keep counts as being in love, then it’s been many more than three,” I say, laughing, downing the rest of the rum in my cup. “Come on Raz, you’re a better liar than that.”

“Raz did say at least three times,” he says, without much humor in his voice. He sighs and leans his head back, covering his face with his hands. “Raz is only a good liar to people who have not seen his mother steal all of his confidence with a steely precision that would make Rajhin jealous. Thankfully, that is most people.” He refills his cup, then mine. “But leave it to Mother to get right to the truth, yes? And you have now met Raz’s neighbors in Merryvale, so you have seen this truth firsthand.” He sighs at length, like he’s about to say something he doesn’t want to. “It is very embarrassing to have an admired comrade find out that this one is actually the selfish, manipulative bastard his detractors curse.”

“Hey, I don’t think that about you! How could anyone who really knows you believe that?”

“Raz is telling you, Mother does really know him.” He doesn’t sound upset, just resigned, which might be worse. “Raz knows his reputation; he knows that many of his acquaintances would readily believe a rumor that he is just as much of a snake to his friends as he is to enemies of the Crown. He also knows he is charming enough to easily re-convince them otherwise.”

As with many things he says, I can’t tell if he’s implying seduction, deception, intimidation, or pure charm, but before I can ask him to clarify, I realize that the very fact that I have that question—and that he is more than capable of any combination of those—proves his point. I take a sip of my drink and nod, convinced.

He takes a long drink and looks out at the river, sighing. “But it would not change the fact that, for example, he hurt three lovely Khajiit he grew up with, because his ego was too fragile to see beyond his own whiskers.” He takes another sip, then gestures toward me with his cup. “You must not tell Raz that did not lower your opinion of him.”

“Well, it’s… definitely not one of the more noble things I’ve seen you do.”

“Ha! So diplomatic! Prior to then, you had mostly seen Raz disregard common decency in suave, roguish service to the Queen, and look so-sleek doing so. You had not seen him do it in selfishness, and so clumsily to boot.” He sighs, and drinks. “The folks back home in Merryvale see right through this one.”

“You’ve changed a lot since you last saw them, huh?”

Raz sighs. “Immeasurably.”

“For the better?” I ask, finishing my drink.

“Unquestionably.”

“From the perspective of someone who doesn’t know them, I don’t think they see through you. I think they look at you and see Razum, the sweet-talking troublemaker who left Merryvale many years ago.”

Raz appreciatively nudges me with his elbow. “Raz sees what you are trying to do, my kind friend, but… this one is very much still the arrogant liar who made sweet-toothed promises to his neighbors to get what he wanted, because he was too much of a coward to tell them he could never be happy with a life spent harvesting moon-sugar.”

“Being an arrogant liar is what makes him so valuable to Her Majesty, right? And his sweet-toothed promises too, I’m sure.”

He tips his cup to me.

“See? You’re still an ass, I’d never deny that, but I can’t see you doing something like that to someone now.”

“No, Raz is a much better liar now; he does not have to lie just to make pillow-friends. He finds them naturally on the strength of his sleek and elegant lies for Queen and country!”

I laugh, and we sit in tipsy silence.

After several moments, Raz sighs and says, “and… to be fair… this one’s neighbors still had to make him fear for his life in order to get an apology out of him.”

“You eventually gave it?”

“Yes… this one just had to get over himself a little first. But once I did, I listened to all of them, and apologized truly. And I apologized that they had to force it out of me. As Raz said earlier… sometimes it truly is valuable to see reflections of your less-respectable qualities.”

“But actually reflecting on them, being willing to apologize for them, and doing your best to make them right… those are good qualities you now have that you didn’t back then. Why is it so hard to believe that you’ve grown up, at least a little?”

“Heh, fine. I suppose you are right, five-claw. And Raz did not exactly give Kideya and Rakh-ja much of a chance to see that.”

“I can’t blame you for trying to put up with as few cutting remarks as possible,” I say. “It really started to bother me. You’ve saved my life before.”

“Raz admits, he did not fully realize what he was asking you to do in staying quiet through their insults, since he was so used to them.“ He finishes what’s in his cup. “Perhaps that is something else he should spend some time thinking about. Sometimes we all get used to things we should not, yes?”

I nod. “Especially the most resilient of us.”

He refills his cup and takes a sip. “But! Perhaps new moons have risen for Raz’s family relations! This one is not ready to trust it just yet, but he now finds himself in the shocking position of having received an apology and an enthusiastically glowing admission of pride from his mother.” He gestures at me with his cup. “Nicely done, as usual.”

“You act like I lied to her, like it was some sort of scheme! All I did was talk about you honestly.”

“Ah, heh. Perhaps Raz needs some time for it all to sink in. Or more drinks.”

We share another long but comfortable silence, both of us taking the occasional sip of rum. The moons are visible now, but the last rays of the setting sun still filter through the trees. My arms and legs are starting to feel pleasantly warm, and my head feels satisfyingly buzzy.

Raz breaks the silence again. “Rakh-ja was telling this one that he is in love with a Bosmer who had come through to help at the farm. They write each other letters.” He grins.

“That’s adorable,” I say, smiling at the thought. “I guess that’s what he meant when he saw Brogomir and said he wished he got letters from tiny elves.”

“He said that? Ha!” Raz seems pleasantly surprised.

“I thought he was joking!” I finish my cup. “Maybe technically telling the truth—cryptically, in plausibly deniable way—is a talent that runs in the family,” I suggest. I think I said all of those words right.

“Let us hope so, for the future Rakhzargo-dar!” Raz says, raising his cup. “Anyway, it is not so far to Elden Root from Merryvale, so Rakh-ja is doing as many extra chores as he can, so he can take days away from the farm.”

“Aww.”

“I left him a little pouch under his pillow—enough coin for his next caravan ride, and Raz’s personal favorite Bosmeri poem. Raz has had much success, being versed in poetry of the various races of Tamriel. He wishes Rakh-ja the same success.”

I refill my cup, and we silently toast Rakhzargo’s budding relationship.

“He must be pretty serious about this mer if he’s willing to do all that… stuff,” I say.

“Yes, in Raz’s lifetime he has done many stupid, embarrassing, laborious, dishonest, and/or dubiously legal things for love—well, mostly for… love-adjacent pursuits. But he still cannot imagine being so in love that he is willing to do extra chores,” Raz shakes his head in disbelief.

I laugh more loudly than I’d intended. “Raz, everything you do could be characterized as ‘being so in love that you are willing to do extra chores!’” I try to temper my laugh, which is only possible to do by taking a sip of rum.

Raz sets down his cup in mock offense. “How dare you suggest this! What would ever give you that impression!” He touches his hand to his chest in dramatic shock.

“In your defense, even Her Majesty considers the Crown’s official business a ‘chore.’” I am learning jokes! I am hilarious. “You have always promised me you would tell me the good Ayrenn stories when we were drunk,” I say, finishing the last of what’s in my cup. “Here we are.”

“Ah, it is a sadness, but you have unfortunately missed the short window where Raz is both drunk enough to be willing, and sober enough to do so coherently.” He downs what’s left in his cup. “But! Suffice it to say… the truth is much more complicated than that, five-claw.” He gets very quiet. Then, to my astonishment, Razum-dar volunteers more information than is sufficient to answer a question. “Maybe once Raz loved her,” he says, shaking his head. “Maybe he still does. No, probably, he still does.” He sounds so sincere that I’m momentarily confused.

I shake my head to sober up a bit, because this is the good stuff, despite Raz’s warning. “She never felt the same?”

He smiles. “In our younger days, Raz was so smitten with her, but back then, she never felt any deeper than a drunken mistake or two. Well, four, to be precise. And a half.”

He probably doesn’t want to hear how sweet it is that he remembers how many. “Half a drunken mistake, huh?”

“Yes—four eighths.” He shoots me slick smile to indicate that he will not be elaborating. “Anyway, now, Raz’s old friend Ayrenn is the Queen. She considers those days behind her, and truthfully, so does Raz.” He fills my cup, then his, and takes a sip.

I am honestly not sure whether to believe him. “Hm… you ‘probably’ still love her, but those days are also ‘behind you’?” I look at him sideways while sipping my rum.

His mouth is full so he wags his finger at me while he swallows a gulp of rum. “That is a very unfair characterization,” he says, swaying a little. “Just because Raz said those words in that order…”

I intensify my sidelong gaze.

He sighs. “Raz understands your skepticism, five-claw—this one would also disbelieve Razum-dar in this conversation.” He leans his head back sleepily. “But… this one’s life, reputation, physical safety, and personal pride are all already devoted to Queen Ayrenn and the Dominion. More than that… that is too much devotion, yes?”

Very diplomatic, but I can tell there’s more. I stare at him expectantly.

When he opens his eyes and notices me staring, he sits up and stares back at me for several moments, then takes a long swig, and sighs with disgust. “Fine,” he says, leaning his head back and closing his eyes again. He speaks quietly, and with very little bravado. “Raz has known Ayrenn for a long time. He was, of course, embarrassingly smitten with her, instantly—he is from Nowherevale, Anequina, and she was a beautiful Altmer princess who saw that Raz was smart enough to keep up with her and clever enough to be very valuable—of course in addition to entertaining, charming, and handsome. Ayrenn appreciated and cared for this one very much—and in many ways—but she is an Altmer noble, yes? It did not even occur to her that it was possible to have romantic feelings for someone who is not Altmer. Which was fine, as such things could never be possible for us.”

“Oh come on!” I say, forgetting that he is telling me his own feelings, rather than a very good story about someone else. “Royalty have romances with people they aren’t supposed to all the time! Having a secret affair with one’s close advisor of a different race is kind of boring, actually.”

“Ha! Just so,” Raz says, “but, that is not the impossibility.” He takes a long drink. “It is bittersweet, yes? Time moves faster, for this one, than it does for Ayrenn. We are around the same age, but Ayrenn was still gaining height, when she met this one. Perhaps you have noticed her detractors call her a child? This is because she is still a kid, by Elf standards—barely old enough to have a profession. She has had to grow up a lot, and her bedding-Khajiit-as-an-act-of-rebellion days are over—by now, it has even occurred to her that it is possible to fall in love with someone who is not a High Elf. She has always seen Raz’s good qualities, such as the ones you just forced him to admit to, even when he very clearly failed to display them. And her appreciation for him only strengthens. But while her idea of love has matured somewhat… Raz has matured much faster. As have his ideas about love. ” He looks out over the river and sips his rum.

I have some feelings about time and the way we all move through it, but I am drunk and getting personal information out of Razum-dar; this is not an opportunity I will waste. I nod thoughtfully for a respectful length of time. “Hm,” I say quietly. “That addresses the ‘those days are behind you’ part, but not the ‘still love her’ part.”

Raz glares at me. “Raz is very suspicious of people who listen to him closely enough to notice his strategic omissions.”

He sits back again with resignation, and sighs. “There is a piece of Raz that is still the selfish, overconfident, and so, so, so stupid young cat this one was when he met Ayrenn. And there is a piece of Ayrenn that is still an obnoxious High Elf princess who has never known real danger, hunger, or struggle. Those two idiots will always have a feeling about each other that is not love, but as close to it as they are capable of, and just as irresistible. Said idiots live only in our memories, in the moment in time when they both got to be in the same place. Otherwise they are gone, and this is very much for the best—for us, for the Dominion, and for the mudcrab fight rings and live slaughterfish dealers of Tamriel.” He smiles the I-will-not-be-elaborating smile again. “But those two jackasses will also live as long as we do, yes? This is more than enough—one of us is an Elf, after all.”

It’s just nice to hear him say nice things. “Raz, I am glad you’re my friend,” I say. My head is swimming, but in a nice way. The moons are very clear. It’s nice.

“Heh. Raz has not seen you this drunk before, five-claw,” Raz says, distinctly drunkenly. “Perhaps spending time with Kideya had the same effect on you that it did on this one.” He pours out the last of the bottle, some into his cup and the rest into mine.

“I’m going to say something,” I announce… “I don’t think Kidi… Kedd… Kend… your mother ever really gave up on you. Some of my best Razum-dar stories… she believed them very easily. Like she suspected all along.”

He laughs a little sadly. “You are kind to your old friend Raz, truly. But this one suspects her extracredulousity may have something to do with the messenger. It is not every day you meet the Champion of Anequina, slayer of dragons, Moon-Hallowed, savior of Tamriel and Nirni, hero of the Dominion, and so on.” He does a lazy but sincere toast to me, like he can barely lift his arm.

“Raz!” I don’t know why this embarrasses me so much, but it does. “Here I thought I was just a normal… uh… adventurous citizen to her. You told her all that?”

“Yes,” he says without hesitation, “this one had no choice. While you and Brogomir were arranging for a messenger to Alinor, Raz was testifying to your good character—so Mother would know he was not inviting a degenerate like himself to dinner. Unfortunately, Mother initially mistook Raz’s friendly admiration for a sign that perhaps there could be grand-kittens for her, down the road.”

I recoil in mild disgust. “Oh.”

“Yes,” Raz says emphatically. “No offense, but Raz had to stop that line of thinking immediately. So, he told her about you saving the world—anyone would admire the legendary defeater of Molag Bal, the one who stopped the Planemeld. Mother was stunned that her good-for-nothing son has frequently fought alongside someone whose deeds were foretold by the Elder Scrolls.” He swishes the last of the rum in the bottom of his cup.

“Ha, well, I am a little embarrassed, but we absolutely cannot have your mother expecting you to settle down.”

Raz nods. “Raz knows he’ll someday have to tell Mother the truth: unless something goes very, horribly differently than Raz has planned, there will never be kittens, and he is thorough about making sure of this. He chooses duty over all else. He has mostly stopped telling people that this is what truly makes him happiest, because it is rare that anyone believes it.”

I’ve never really thought about it before, but of course, of all people, Razum-dar would have words for something I’ve felt but never articulated. “Yes!” I say, slapping his arm in friendly agreement. “They’ll just tell you that you’ll change your mind when you meet ‘the right one,’ or when you get too old to hold a weapon.” I take a long swig. “Anything is possible, even that, but that’s not what I want for myself.”

Raz nods emphatically. “Ha! This one is glad you understand, five-claw! Of course you do!” He waves his almost-empty cup at me. “Even Ayrenn tells this one that he will slow down and find someone to grow old with. Raz thinks she just doesn’t want him to be alone, as she knows she will be—she will have to marry someone she does not love, almost certainly. But this one? He will never be alone! He has friends all over Tamriel.” He gestures again at me with his cup, nearly spilling what’s left in it. ”And, of course, he has pillow-friends in every city, for when a situation calls for deep friendship."

“Ha, cheers to deep friendship,” I say, lazily but sincerely toasting, barely able to lift my arm.

“Now, you…” Raz continues to point his almost-empty cup at me, “must have pillow-friends on different planes of existence. Raz is envious. You must tell him your secrets sometime.” He finally finishes the last of what’s in his cup, which he emphatically sets down next to him, upside down.

I nod with exaggerated modestly. “Ha, I’m flattered, Razum-dar,” I say curtly, “but if I tell you my secrets, I’ll have competition—“

“—very handsome, charming, cultured, clever competition,” he says, knitting his brow with mock concern. “Hm, yes, Raz deeply sympathizes with your problem. Fine, this one will get to different planes of existence without your help. Eh, except tomorrow, when he needs your help." He reflects a moment. "Ha, if the Psijic we are meeting is somehow not an insufferable stuck-up dweeb, perhaps this one will ask them if they would like to bring Raz to Artaeum for a night, and... stretch out time.”

“… I might know someone in Coldharbour you’d get along with,” I joke, laughing, finishing my cup and likewise smacking it upside down onto the wood of the massive oak tree’s root.

“This one has been there once or twice. Ah, Raz’s vision is blurry, it is like he’s there right now,” he laughs. “Is it by any chance the lovely Bosmer trader near the Hollow City wayshrine?”

I wasn’t actually thinking of anyone; I thought he’d know I was joking. “No, I—“

“Or, oh, the sleek and muscular Argonian blacksmith with the—“ he mimes tall horns.

“I could barely get him to talk to me; perhaps you’d have better luck? But, if you’re into big horns and shapely tails—“

“Not even you could introduce this one to the… sexy… Prince of Schemes.” He can’t finish the sentence without giggling, then breaking into full-on laughter.

“Mm, his voice though,” I say, also laughing. “Hello, handsome—” I say in a very bad impression of the Lord of Brutality and Domination.

“—the… Planemeld… is nigh… if you know what I mean…” Raz says seductively, lowering his voice ridiculously to do an equally bad impression.

We are both very drunk and laughing, wiping tears from our eyes about our not-all-that-funny jokes.

“You’re right, though…” I say, through giggles. “I probably couldn’t introduce you.” I start laughing at my joke before I can even say it. “We’re… not on very good terms right now.”

I’m laughing, Raz is laughing, pretty moons, nice friend, good rum. As I laugh, I lean my head back against the tree, and I realize how tired I am.

I wake up in a leather and hide bed, in an unfamiliar communal inn room, with the moons shining directly into my eyes through the window, and my head spinning. I’m still in my traveling leathers, but my boots are off my feet. The blanket Raz and I were sitting on earlier is wrapped around me, and there’s a large jug of drinking water on the floor next to me. I know for sure I couldn’t have done all that myself. I sit up, chug about a third of the water, and manage to get off most of my leathers before stumbling back into bed, turned away from the moons this time, smiling about a joke I don’t remember.

#eso #tesblr #razum-dar #eso fam #the vestige #wip wednesday #eso fanfic #raz spills some ayrenn tea #they do some molag bal impressions #raz manages to get laid offscreen #pls clap #even though i might leave this out there is a lot of ~foreshadowing

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