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the-tharns-speak · 4 years

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What was Pulasia and yours love story?

I shall satisfy your curiosity, but prepare for a disappointment: any author of books of fiction would discard this story in their writing, as it would bore their readers to death.

I’ve met Pulasia many times before what I count as our first official meeting; in the same manner that you notice trees standing by the road you take every day, but you never actually pay any one of them attention until you have to seek refuge under one in heavy rain.

Our first meeting happened in the Imperial Archives. I was revising the newest planned changes to legislation and I needed to compare it with its prior versions which required a large amount of cross-references, and I’ve gotten a bit invested, so I was practically buried among towers of books of my own building, and it was around two in the morning (Pulasia’s claim, I had no idea of the time), and my slowly building up frustration about a certain paragraph which I could not find reached the point where despair meets anger, and I shouted something along the line “Why do I even bother?”

And from the next aisle I hear a woman answer: “Because someone has to. Keep up, you are doing great.” Now I had to take a look at who was said that, and that was how I saw Pulasia, who sought out “some light reading” in a sudden case of insomnia. She was actually quite surprised to see the High Chancellor, but she helped me to find that one paragraph and we went on our ways - me to my bed, she to work.

After that I began to noticing her presence or absence practically everywhere I went. We acknowledged each other when we met without other people, and as we both were very frequent to the Archives, we often worked side by side in silence, or commenting on our work. Sometimes it happened that I sat down in the Archives in the morning, Pulasia would come in around ten o’clock, she would work until the evening, gone home, and then she’d return in the night because she couldn’t sleep and I was still there in the same place. In that case we would pick up on whatever conversation we were having that morning. However it was more usual that without her company I retreated from the Archives into my office or into my study, as I would have had my necessary researches done, and lingered about for a little ingenious conversation

And this went on for… five years? Six years or so. As that was still quite close to the loss of my sixth wife, I was not considering a new marriage in the slightest. (In fact, I was absolutely certain that I was never to marry again. A conviction which I’ve adopted four times by then.) I found this arrangement Puliasa and I had extremely convenient, because she was an intelligent woman with attention to detail and was not really fond of politicians of any kind, so I could complain about the herd of idiots I was supposed to work with and her reply would be something like: “Am I supposed to get you a shovel, an alibi, or both?” Soothing balm for my soul.

Then one day, a particularly cold Hearthfire at that, Pulasia left from the Archives at the time she usually went home, and I once again remained behind in the growing dark. However, she returned after a short while to retrieve her cloak which she had forgotten on the chair. She took it and left without a word, and that’s what I thought would be all for that. I did not expect her to appear again twenty minutes later with a lantern and - and this was the part which really got to me - a pot of tea and two cups. And yes, it was cold enough that I was handling the papers in gloves the whole time, and yes, it was so dark that I had to squint it the papers and it was giving me a headache, but I wouldn’t go to retrieve the candles to light them, because I was too focused and… And when Pulasia brought me tea and light and than sat down next to me without saying anything, I realized that I wished to spend my life with her by my side.

So, that was me and Pulasia. The rest was tactfully informing her that I love her, finding out she was not adverse to the idea of marriage, and then I had to make several unpleasant trips to Wayrest, because High Chancellor or not, in order to marry a woman in the Empire you have to have the permission of her father, provided she has one, and Pulasia’s fathe had just happened to be a centurion in the Imperial army. I’ve learned a lot of very inventive curses that month.

#Abnur Tharn #Pulasia Tharn #The Mystery Answered #relationships #long post

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the-tharns-speak · 4 years

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How did it go during your wives pregnancies? Were you close by as much as possible? Tried to stay away from the hormonal chaos? How did you react to sudden late night cravings of your wives? Been excited about soon being father (again)? And I'm unfamiliar with imperial practices regarding births. Were you there when your kids were born?

It was different from the woman to woman, as it was their body which went through it, not mine, and as such I respected their wishes and choices, going only so far as to make suggestions.

For example I was there with Pulasia almost the whole time of her pregnancy and cared for her comfort - I would never believe someone would like to eat pickled slaughterfish, let alone crave it! - but she kicked me out of the bedroom every time upon the actual childbed.

With my first wife it was the exact opposite, I was not supposed to bother myself with the “premotherly maintenance” (her words, not mine), but later I would sit by her side and hold her hand the whole time, and if the midwife thought it needed, I even helped. Certainly an education experience, especially the twins.

To mention an absolute extreme: Quinta, whom you might remember almost never was in the Imperial City, and thus my only hints were her matter-of-fact letters which included notes such as “I have officially confirmed another pregnancy” or even “Please find our youngest son attached.” She did not think Morrowind political scene a proper place to raise a child, a fact with which I fully agree, so once our children became old enough to start their education, she sent them off to Nibenay at the earliest convenience.

Whenever I have been told I am going to have a child, I anticipated them with joy. I admit, the first time I might have slightly lose it, because I really did not think myself fit nor ready to be a father, but it is natural to feel nervous about such a radical change in life when it happens for the first time.

#Abnur Tharn #fatherhood #marriage #children #The Mystery Answered #Pulasia Tharn

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the-tharns-speak · 4 years

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Any other sweet warm moments with Pulasia?

Hmm, to think of one that can be officially shared...

As Pulasia aged, which is a thing that happens, she grew more and more worried about her appearance. Despite that she has weaponized the physical prove of the passage of years.

One of my fellow Battlemages had the audacity to comment on my age in Pulasia’s vicinity, I do not recall exactly what the comment was, but my numerous wrinkles were the subject. Admittedly, I get similar comments often, usually behind my back but some people are at least honest enough to say them to my face, and I do not think much of that; I’d love to see them after they turn their first century.

My wife, however, was horrified and was decided she was having none of it. She smiled at the sorceress very kindly: “Oh, he is just borrowing them,” as in the wrinkles, “to make an appearance. He’s going to return them back to me once he is done. You should consider finding someone to do the same for you.”

Alright, maybe you don’t think Pulasia driving an insufferable colleague of mine to tears a heartwarming moment, but that is entirely your problem.

#Abnur Tharn #Pulasia Tharn #The Mystery Answered

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the-tharns-speak · 4 years

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Is Pulasia dead or is she still alive?

Please, anonymous user, do you really think that if I could be comforted by my beloved wife, that I would really feel the need to start a blog?

#Abnur Tharn #Pulasia Tharn #The Mystery Answered #or rather that Clivia would feel the need to start a blog for me #because I was oblivious to the option of having a blog #and at times I slightly regret that my sweet ignorance in this regard has been erased

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the-tharns-speak · 4 years

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Did you marry any of your wives for non-political or non-wealth reasons?

Yes, I did. You can count my first marriage to some extent, as it was arranged by my parents and I was not given much of a choice. Although, you could argue that my father’s reasons were entirely political. So another counter-example: Pulasia I did marry out of love and genuinely because I wanted her by my side.

#Abnur Tharn #marriage #Pulasia Tharn #The Mystery Answered

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empressofmankind · 5 years

Photo

30/31 "Catch" Inktober 2019

I've been sitting on the reference photo of this for, like, a month. I couldn't take it any more so I stuck it in here as a prompt because I need Abnur & Pulasia Tharn content in my life.

#inktober #inktober 2019 #sheogorath sends his regards #imperial art farts #abnur tharn #tharn #pulasia tharn #eso #elder scrolls #season of the dragon #elsweyr #eso fam #tes #tes fanart #imperials

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empressofmankind · 5 years

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Vedius' gaze snapped up. "Wait, he still has a wife?"

Gaius put his whetstone down and looked up at his friend and fellow legionnaire. "He does."

Vedius frowned and pulled his head back a fraction. "How long have they been married?"

Gaius shook his head and resumed sharpening his gladius. "Longer than most of us have been alive."

Spend some time outside and sketched my favourite political disaster mages, Abnur and Pulasia Tharn

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empressofmankind · 5 years

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cries in watercolor

Being a marker artist, using watercolor fills me with a healthy amount of fear. I've been wanting to do soft backgrounds for my art in watercolor for a long time though.

#abnur tharn #pulasia tharn #elder scrolls online #eso #tes fanart #eso fanart #season of the dragon #cyrodiil #eso fam #tes #tes25 #fanart #imperial art farts #sheogorath sends his regards

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empressofmankind · 5 years

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01/31 "Ring" Inktober '19

What better way than to kick-off inktober with Abnur & Pulasia Tharn, yes? I admit, I regretted drawing (just) hands 0.5 seconds into starting it.

#inktober #inktober 2019 #eso #esofam #season of the dragon #abnur tharn #pulasia tharn #tharn #inking #traditional art #sheogorath sends his regards #imperial art farts

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empressofmankind · 5 years

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A Bone To Pick

Fandom: Elder Scrolls

Character/s: Abnur Tharn, Pulasia Tharn, Ramira Don, Roman Tharn

Location/s: The Tharn estate in north-eastern Cyrodiil

Premises: Ramira hasn’t told Abnur because he hadn’t asked, failing to realise that its pretty hard to ask about something that you don’t know exists in the first place

Warnings: N/A

O O O

The rogue hopped over the fence, a single hand on the stone for support as he threw his legs across without touching it. The secluded Imperial estate sprawled before him. He'd describe it as large if it didn't feel like large had too few letters in it to accurately capture the monumental size the private home was. He stood in the shadow of a tall cypress and studied the Legion soldiers casually patrolling the gardens. They gave the impression they were merely enjoying the weather and their tranquil surroundings. Two played a dice game by the basin. Another stood eating flatbread by the rear path. Near him, one sat dozing in the morning sun. It was a superficial mascarade, and as he studied them, he saw through it. The dice players looked up alternately, taking in their surroundings. The eater kept a keen eye on the veranda and primary approach. And for someone arguably sleeping, the dozer sure fluttered his eyelids a lot. The rogue plotted his route, timed their behaviour. Their regularity, that was the flaw in their defence. He smiled and made his way to the villa's back with little effort. He scaled the wall where the villa and stables met, the space between them ideal to wedge climb. He pulled himself up to the balcony and dodged from statue to statue to the only unshuttered window and climbed inside. "You're in my light." Abnur Tharn stood in front of a wall mirror, wearing preciously little. He had his back turned. The rogue climbed down from the window sill, irritated with his error. The mage couldn't see him in the polished obsidian; the angle was off. However, the light dimming? Yes. He should have thought of that. "You're not a very good assassin, are you?" Abnur added as he cut the edge of his goatee and inspected himself in the mirror. It was uneven. Not so much that others would notice, but he'd seen, and that was a problem. "I am looking for my mother." Abnur glanced at the rogue over his shoulder. He was older than he'd judged by his voice. Dressed in muted cloth and leather armour, hung with daggers and rope, he certainly looked the part of a petty criminal. Not necessarily an assassin, however. Reminded of the Dark Brotherhood speaker, Abnur's thin lips briefly curled in distaste. A younger brother, maybe? Half sibling, perhaps, considering the difference in skin tone. There was a passing resemblance, though. The blue eyes, for one. And something about his demeanour. Abnur turned his attention back to his own face. "I imagine I haven't seen her." The rogue sauntered into the room and deposited himself unto the nearest chair, putting his feet up on the desk it stood beside. "I know she's here, magister." Abnur crooked an eyebrow, amusement playing around his lips, though he didn't turn when he spoke. Instead, he resumed his grooming. "And how would you know that." "She told me." Abnur frowned. He looked at the rogue via the mirror. Now that he considered it, he could see it. His eyes were a little large and a fraction tilted, and he fancied the young man's ear tips flared just a bit. And the freckles. ”I see she also told you how to avoid our sentries." Abnur turned, indicating the rogue with his razor. "And take your boots off my desk before I remove them for you." The rogue gave him a long, reluctant look, more suited to a rebellious youth than an adult man. It made Abnur feel distinctly old and paternal. He didn't like it and pursed his lips. The rogue took his feet off the desk with an exaggerated motion and pushed himself up in his seat. "They are too repetitive in their behaviour. It is easy to dodge their attention." There was a commotion down the hall, beyond the bedroom. A moment later the door hangings we're swept aside and Ramira entered, stark naked and with a spring in her step. Pulasia followed behind her, dressed in a light white peplos, cinched at the waist by a cord of gold. "Hi!" Ramira announced by way of a collective greeting. At spotting the rogue, she made a whoop of cheer and moved to embrace him. He weathered the enthusiast hugs with the resigned look of someone that knew there was no escaping them. Pulasia her eyebrows rose in surprise at finding her husband accompanied. Her gaze ran across the rogue as she entered. "And who is this agile looking young man?" Abnur crossed his arms; his expression still pinched. "Ramira's son." Pulasia's eyebrows managed to rise higher yet. "And does 'Ramira's son' have a name?" The rogue disentangled himself from his mother's hugs with the ease of practice and the agility of a Khajiit. "Roman." "Roman...?" Ramira beamed as she stood beside her tall child. He wasn't quite twice as tall, but it was close. Pulasia considered if he were taller than her husband. Abnur wasn't particularly short, but the young man might have an inch even on him. Roman's gaze moved from Pulasia to Abnur, lingered for a moment, and then moved back. "Just Roman." A frown briefly wrinkled her brow, but then her smile turned wry. "Well, just-Roman, have you had breakfast yet?" "Do say, you'll stay?" Ramira took Roman's hand, her palm fitting entirely in his. She beamed. "There is garum all the way from Skingrad!" Roman glanced at the mages. That was easily the most overpriced rotted fish money could buy. His gaze lingered on Abnur. He knew perfectly well a good portion of their gold turn-over came directly out of his tallies. Ramira pulled Roman's hand and pushed the door curtains aside. "Atticus?" She called. "Atticus!" Pulasia watched them go, Ramira calling the man's name all the way down the stairs. "Atticus really doesn't like heeling to her, did you know?" Abnur pursed his lips, his brow creasing with displeasure. "If he won't do his job, he's welcome to find employment elsewhere." "I don't think he will." Pulasia shook her head. "He'd be sorely pressed to find someone that'll match our pay and he knows it." "Then I guess he will have to heel. Tell me, if anything unpleasant occurs." Pulasia reached for his face, smoothing the wrinkles from his forehead with a caress. "Bold of you to assume I won't incinerate him where he stands." A smile teased through Abnur's scowl as he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her towards him. He leaned down and brushed his nose past hers. "Now I almost want him to transgress." She took his face in both hands, her fingers running through his side burns as she pressed light pecks against his grin. "You're a bad man." "Am I?" he mused against her kisses, his fingertip drawing patterns on her lower back. She pulled back less than an inch, their lips almost touching. Amusement twitched the left corner of her mouth. "The worst."

#imperial fiction #imperial shenanigans #sheogorath sends his regards #tharn #abnur tharn #pulasia tharn #SHENANIGANS #eso fanfiction #tes fanfiction #bosmer #ramira don #no their toll shady child is definitely NOT a necromancer #I have no clue where you got that idea

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empressofmankind · 5 years

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Cyrodiil Reunion - 01. Plus Two

Fandom: Elder Scrolls

Character/s: Abnur Tharn, Pulasia Tharn, Ramira Don, Ro’ranno-dar (@lontau), Gaius Pulchranis Colovius (@terran-noble), Vedius Inventius

Location/s: Cyrodiil Jungle House, Baandari trading post, Malabal Tor

Premises: You would think Abnur and Pulasia Tharn see each other every minute of every day on account of not just being married but both sitting on the Elder Council. However, nothing is farther from the truth: between field research and studying, days slip by and even weeks may pass unnoticed. Fortunately, they generally know where to find each other.

Mood: Fluff and smut

Warnings: Recreational drug use

NOTE: Set some time before the planemelt, when Varen is still Emperor and before the five companions set out to find the Amulet of Kings.

@lontau + @terran-noble - OC present & @norroendyrd - OC mentioned

O O O

The Baandari trading post was a modest, transient settlement in northern Malabal Tor, near the pass to Reaper’s Marsh. It had once been an Imperial border town but it hadn’t been on the edge of the Empire for five generations and these days few of its buildings were permanent. The still imposing, stone-wrought gatehouse with its surly, square guard towers loomed over the only road into town as a stark reminder of that past.

Remnants of the town wall connected it to the Census and Excise Office which was now shared by the settlement its small Mages’ and Fighters’ guilds. The Mages’ guild was so modest that they couldn’t provide the usual teleportation services through a lack of resident mages. And the Fighters’ guild their training facilities comprised the uneven court behind the old building with tarp overhangs to shield against the rain. Their permanent proximity resulted in the majority of the carefree town its shenanigans.

On the other side of the gatehouse, the Silver Moons inn leaned across the alley towards the gatehouse like an old friend. Renowned for its fine, regional food and drinks, it offered a warm bed at a fair price to all those who preferred to not spend the night under canvas and cloth. The ever-changing tents of the Baandari Khajiit and Bosmer travellers dotted the trampled foliage beside impromptu paths and bazaars, creating cheerful, colourful chaos at the heart of the town.

All residences were impermanent. All except one. The miniaturised Imperial estate sat up on the hillside at the edge of town, snug between a Valenwood giant’s roots and the mountains, overlooking the merry mayhem below. It had once belonged to the town’s publican, whose name had been lost as quickly as their body the minute the Empire’s grip on Valenwood had slackened. Decades had passed before it had obtained a new owner, for no one wanted to live in the unpopular taxer her residence.

Its private, cobbled path crossed the main road near the Marsh Gate and stopped short in front of the Wayshrine of Kynareth, Divine of wind, rain and wayfarers too. The Khajiit called her Kenarthi and the Bosmer Kaan. The wayshrine was carved and hung with their epigraphs and tokens, its faded Imperial inscriptions indecipherable underneath. The tokens were wishes, of a sort, or prayers, maybe. They believed that, should they come loose by themselves, the loved one they had thought of while stringing it would once more cross their path. Or, as it hung there, remain safe while away from their side.

Among the many colourful bangles and bone fetishes, hung a neat strip of red cloth. Its precise knot was all but loose. As it moved and tugged in the breeze, coming ever further undone, sunlight glinted off the gold-threaded diamond-shape sewn onto it.

A steady stream of wayfarers and travelling merchants passed in and out of the modest settlement at all times. Many on foot, most carrying packs or pulling handcarts. Few with pack animals and fewer still astride mounts. It was this which made the three travellers on horseback stand out as they passed under the ancient gatehouse. Their horses were road-worn but their tack was fine, the animals their coats meticulously clipped under the dust of travel. Three in all they were. The lady riding up front directed her horse with confidence, her gaze sweeping the market before resting on the lone path up the hillside. She wore a loose, drab travelling overdress, though gold glinted at her wrists and fingers. She had pulled her crimson shawl across her head, shielding her light skin from the burning afternoon sun. The two soldiers riding close behind her were dressed in silver and crimson, their armour rattling with the horses’ steps.

As they rode by the wayshrine, the small token tugged free. It turned and tumbled as it danced in the air, carried up the hillside to their destination by Kynareth’s breath. It folded around an iron bar of the walled enclosure and flapped there for a moment.

The garden was dominated by the jungle foliage characteristic of Malabal Tor. However, their arrangement was too appealing, too neatly away from the garden path, to be truly overgrown. Someone had spared no expense to make it look as if every expense had been spared. Sequestered amid the rampant foliage and cradled between the colossal roots sat the modest home, erected from timber and lime, on a base of river stone. It mimicked far nobler Imperial manors with its austere architecture, high beamed ceiling and a red-tile roof. It even had a miniature wooden veranda, complete with sturdy overhang and scrollwork engraved balustrade.

In one corner of the veranda stood an easel with an abandoned, half-finished painting, an impression of colossal pink and turquoise mushrooms alongside a smear of blue water on its otherwise blank canvas. A stool with a stained rag and a myriad of poorly closed jars stood beside it. Faded, yellow Black Horse Courier pages had been put down on the floorboards but it had not protected the wood from two violently purple stains.

In the other corner lounged the owner of the diminutive estate, plus two. Abnur Tharn was reading a book. On account of the sweltering, humid weather, he wore only knee-length breeches and a Khajiiti kaftan which looked like a lightweight, coat-like variety of his usual robes. The book was one of a series which concerned the published journeys of the famous Imperial explorer and scholar Sevina Sulla. This particular one detailed her travels through Valenwood and her papers on the Pact Bosmer of southern Malabal Tor, based on her six-year stay with them. It was a heavy tome and Abnur had propped it up against the Bosmer sprawling across his lap. Ramira Don rested backwards with her elbows on the balustrade, leaning all the way back to catch some last sunshine. A dried streak of turquoise stained her freckled cheek. She was wearing a loincloth decorated with Bosmeri designs - and nothing besides. Near them, amid a sprawl of pillows, Ro'ranno loafed in his bare fur. The Khajiit purred contently and took another draw from the skooma bubbler in their midst. The opiate vapour had gathered under the overhang, its purple-tinged whisps twisting lazily just above their heads.

The crimson strip of cloth pulled itself free and tumbled on, between the vines and over the path, to land across the Bosmer’s small, freckled nose. Ramira opened her eyes, her gaze cross-eyed as she looked at it. She snatched it from her face and pushed herself up into a sitting position in one smooth motion. “It came loose!”

A huff escaped Abnur because a knee went unpleasant places and the book slipped from his grasp as a result. It landed upside down on the wooden floorboards with the crunch of many creased pages. Abnur pushed himself upright in an attempt to pry her knee from his crotch but he immediately slouched again. His thoughts slurred and he didn’t even try to pick up the book. “It’s been storming and I didn’t tie it very tight.”

Ro’ranno took the bubbler’s mouthpiece from his lips to speak. “This one thinks that doesn’t matter.”

Ramira leaned down to pick up the skooma bubbler and nestled it in her lap instead.

“Rremi!” Ro’ranno exclaimed as the mouthpiece was jerked unceremoniously from between his teeth.

Ramira ignored him and put it in her mouth, handing the second one to the battlemage. Abnur put an arm around her shoulders and took a long draw, inhaling the fragrant smoke. Ramira made herself comfortable against him, careful to hold the skooma bubbler’s water bowl upright.

Ro’ranno sat up, his fur bristling. “You can sharre!”

Abnur rolled his head to his other shoulder to look at the Khajiit. Smoke escaped his mouth as he spoke. “You can wait.”

The Khajiit pouted magnificently but when they ignored him, he let himself drop back down amid the pillows.

Abnur produced a coin-sized brass medallion from the pocket of his kaftan and flicked it across his fingers, watching it glint in the afternoon sun.

“What’s that?” Ramira stuck her hands down and rocked forward.

“Ramira!”

She flinched at his raised voice, the wood piece falling from her mouth. Seeing his chance, Ro’ranno snatched it up before it hit the floor.

“Will you stop doing that?” Abnur wheezed as he pushed her back onto her bum and her weight away from his mistreated loins.

Ramira hunched her shoulders, her gaze down and her hands in her lap. “I didn't mean to.”

He clenched his jaw but then sighed and gave her shoulder a tug towards him. “I know.”

Ramira curled up against him, her nose and cheek against his chest. He looked back at the medallion, a smirk twitching the corner of his thin lips up. Perhaps, the priestess had managed to teach him something, after all.

Abnur leaned down and pressed a kiss against the corner of Ramira's forehead. “Klutz."

“What’s that?” she repeated, her eyes on the medallion. Something about her curious look made him think of a little magpie.

“What’s what?” Abnur twisted his hand, showing an empty palm.

Ramira frowned and lifted her head. She took his hand in both of hers and inspected it from every side. “The coin?”

Abnur crooked an eyebrow, his smile turning wry. “Coin?”

“This one saw it too!” Ro’ranno sat up, the mouthpiece falling from his lips. They were both staring at his hand now.

Abnur leaned towards the Khajiit and pulled him closer by an ear. Ro’ranno’s nose wrinkled in a protesting pout. Abnur shook him by the ear, peering down into it. He flipped the medallion up between index and middle finger as if he’d taken it from Ro’ranno’s ear. “You mean this coin?”

“Yes!” Ramira smiled broadly.

“It was a gift.” Abnur flipped the medallion through his fingers before holding it out to Ramira.

She took it, holding the brass coin up and admiring the finely crafted lily device on it in the sunlight. Tuum cor aperi, it read along the edge in fine Imperial script: ‘open your heart’. She recognised it, of course. It was a medallion of Dibella. She looked up at him and grinned. “The goddess of sex!”

Abnur tilted his head, suppressing a smirk. “You’re not wrong.”

“This one wonders who it was a gift from?” Ro’ranno’s grin was distinctly lopsided, smoke escaping between his canines. Abnur beckoned and Ro’ranno gave him the second mouthpiece as he shifted his position to accommodate the distance, leaning against the inside of the battlemage’s knee.

“A very tall Orc,” Abnur said as he took a draw. "She's good with a battle axe and knows a thing or two about magic too."

Ramira tilted her head. “How tall?”

Abnur frowned, chewing the wood. He then held his hand up, at first level with his head and then quite a bit higher. Ramira’s eyes became large as moon sugar saucers. She looked from the medallion to Abnur and back. Ro’ranno tipped his head back to look at the indicated height, his mouth slightly open. “That one is very tall,” he said softly.

A snort of amusement escaped Abnur despite himself. “That she is.”

“You could invite her, sometime?” Ramira leaned towards him, her eyes glowing with poorly contained eagerness.

Abnur crooked an eyebrow and her mischievous grin turned wider still. He shook his head and reached up to stroke her freckled cheek, then tugged her ear. “Maybe I will, you randy little mer.”

She beamed as he pocketed the medallion. Abnur brought the mouthpiece to his lips but she dodged in between and took a draw instead. Smoke escaped her nose as she chuckled at his look. Ro’ranno stretched and purred rather loudly.

Ramira reached for the mouthpiece but Abnur moved it out of range at the last moment, a slow smirk stealing onto his face as he held it up. She frowned and sat up, trying to snatch it when he took another draw. However, he already held it high again. A determined little scowl creased her nose bridge as she climbed across his lap. She pulled herself up by his shoulder and then leaned onto it, her fingertips brushing past the wood. He pressed a kiss against her bare hip and stretched his arm just that little further.

The tip of Ramira’s tongue poked out between her lips as she aimed. Shifting her weight she pushed herself up by leaning entirely onto his shoulder, snatching the mouthpiece from his hand. She smiled in triumph but it was short-lived. She overbalanced and slipped. A pitched yelp escaped her as she clamped onto his arm and neck in reflex. Abnur latched onto the balustrade and tried to compensate for the Bosmer’s shifting weight but failed at both. His fingers slipped from the wood and grabbed a hold of the stack of books beside them instead, tipping them over. Ro’ranno jumped away with a hiss as they fell.

The world span around Abnur until it came to an abrupt standstill as the back of his head struck the floorboards, stars exploding into his view. Around him the thumps of falling books made the floorboards shudder. He closed his eyes and grimaced, contemplating how many spines had broken in the fall and if his was included in that.

When he opened his eyes, Ramira sat perched on his chair, peering down at him. “What are you doing?”

Abnur pursed his lips. “Appreciating the solidity of Imperial architecture and the fragility of the human condition.”

Ramira leaned her head sideways and blinked. She climbed off the chair and laid down next to him. She looked up and frowned at the overhang above. “I don’t see it.”

Abnur rolled his eyes up and sighed, shaking his head minutely.

Moonsugar whinnied, making all three of them look up. There was movement at the gate and within moments it was pushed open by a legionnaire. Skooma tossed her head in recognition, whinnying as well.

Ramira sat up and smiled when she saw who entered, pleased. She looked down at Abnur, who still sprawled on his back. “See? Kaan promised and she always keeps them.”

Ro’ranno jumped up to greet the new arrivals. He waved excitedly as he ran down the path. “Lady Pulasia!”

The sweet scent of skooma reached Pulasia Tharn before the nude Khajiit did.

O O O

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#Imperial Fiction #Imperial Shenanigans #elder scrolls #elder scrolls online #abnur tharn #tharn #pulasia tharn #ramira don #ro'ranno-dar #season of the dragon #only responsible adults here lmao #sheogorath sends his regards

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