What if we were two battle-hardened women who accidentally brushed hands at the war council meeting, the sexual tension so palpable that you could cut it.
What if you were the more experienced of us and physically directed my hand to a more advantageous position on the war table.
For those who were curious, here is a video showing the Salmo bread crash. Keep in mind that this will never occur under normal circumstances, as Salmo never gets any bread.
I am tagging @dirty-bosmer, @saltymaplesyrup, @thana-topsy, @gilgamish @skyrim-forever @viss-and-pinegar
Just a short snippet from chapter 3 of Aristeia. I finished the rough draft this weekend and am editing it now, so look for it soon!
Fandom: The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Rating: T (blood and violence)
Category: gen
Genre(s): Adventure, Homer retelling
Main characters: Borgakh the Steel Heart, the orcs of Mor Khazgur
_______________________________
“Indeed. Canute, give him whatever chits you use for the hold taxes for the value of two goats.”
The man in green looked at the armored woman and back to Olur. “Ah, you see Captain, the strongholds don’t exactly pay taxes.”
“They what?”
“We…don’t really collect them. From the strongholds, I mean. And they don’t normally come to the cities, they just take care of their own business. I could give him one of the chits but it wouldn’t be worth anything to them.”
“You’re telling me the ki— jarls of Skyrim do not collect the Emperor’s taxes?”
“Not on strongholds, Captain.”
“Wish I could run out to the mountains and live like a wild beast with a score of wives and not have the taxman come calling,” murmured one of the soldiers behind Borgakh. Olur’s hand tightened again, pinching her under her cowl where her neck met her shoulder.