Beneath the sugar jar

This will be Pashtir's thoughts, his meditations. Hargh, this one has many thoughts but he cannot say them aloud, no. No, this one must be always jovial, ha ha.
He must be the typical funny khajiit, because he does not need stupid clawless Mer and more looking to his cub brother and asking questions. No, no, let eyes fall upon the funny Pashtir. Let his antics be a flip of the fingers to the stupid ones.
Hargh. It frustrates this one. But it is his duty.
You see, dear book of scraped cowskin Pashtir stole from a Bosmer..
this one's brother is not.. hrm.. how could we say it.. he was not born rightly.
The Moon priests said Pashtir's brother fell through the Lunar Lattice. he should have been born Senche, maybe Pahmar-raht, Amarok should have been. But he was born as a Cathay-raht instead somehow. He is clever, yes, but he is not.. not right in his mind. He thinks like a sleepy Pahmar. He hungers for sugar like a senche-tiger. And just when Pashtir thinks he simply has a Pahmar in the body of a Cathay-raht for a brother, oh no, he speaks like a Dagi!

How does any of this make sense, this one demands?! It does not! It cannot!
And yet here he is, a soul caught in a tangle of the Lattice and this one's personal trial AND tribulation! Pashtir's sister has nothing to offer on the matter. She slinks along, Alfiq and knowing, and steals us all sugar sometimes. She always laughs, this one suspects, but she cannot tell Pashtir why.

Maybe Jode was sniffing Jone's tail when Amarok was to be born, yes?
Hraaughr.
I cannot say these sounds of anger so I write them so hard this silly vellum near tears!

((Pashtir and his siblings, art by me:))
image no longer hosted — http://pre01.deviantart.net/28b1/th/pre/i/2015/123/8/4/pashtir_al_razaad_and_his_siblings_by_aktarin-d8rzrij.jpg[/img]

The moons shine brightly. This one slept very well last night. Pashtir found a pleasant bedmate, and by the sound, so did his brother! Ha! It is always a blessing when the wind ruffles the fur gently, and the taste of sugar lingers on the lips, is it not?
Perhaps one day, Pashtir will find a mate in truth for more than a few nights, and begin a family. But not yet, he is thinking, not yet. For now, it is always enjoyable to relax, hmm. Pashtir and Amarok are young, and Pashtir is still too curious to smell new smells, and feel his whiskers tremble in the morning sun over a thousand new lands.
This one's sister also seems curious - it is a family issue, Pashtir thinks. This one wonders if his journeys will unravel the whys and hows of his cub brother's nature. It seems so strange that he.. is.
Baugh.
The blankets call, and this vellum is not so silky under the claw as Pashtir's brief new friend. Good night, Bosmer-bred journal. Pashtir has better things to do, yes yes.

Hraghr. Amarok has brought home a mate! How is this possible! We do not even HAVE a home and Pashtir's cub brother comes into this one's rented room, ousts Pashtir's new friend and waves some dull-clawed, dark-moons COOK and says he is in LOVE!
*illegible scratchings, as the vellum indeed tore*
WHY is this one cursed with this dreugh of a brother!? Why must Pashtir suffer so!!??
*another rip, and a blotch indicating where the ink pot was spilled in the irate khajit's wrath*