KeysJul 05, 2017Jul 05, 2017 at 12:30 AM
#1
"You're late again, Riz."
"Keys. I don't want Ma's name for me."
"It's a fine name. Far more respectable than that roguish nickname of yours, regardless of how you feel about Mother."
Alyssande patted the patch of bed before her. Keys climbed on and sat with her back to her sister, letting the older khajiit remove her earrings and drop them into a glass of vodka, then dab some onto the piercings. The grooming ritual had become a part of their daily check-ins, regardless of whether they bickered or not.
"You fed Peantut today?"
"Fed Peanut, dusted the warehouse, visited Wrae, caught a fish, peed three times, an' snuck behind the tavern to pick my nose."
"You're not still using your claws like you did when you were little, are you?" Alyssandre asked, grabbing the cub's chin and turning her head towards her to check for a nosebleed.
"I didn't expect you to take that last part seriously! How much more information do ya need?"
Keys shoved Alyssandre's hands away, but didn't object to having her mohawk brushed out seconds later. The older sister pulled her into a tight hug.
"I just want to make sure my baby is safe and well. You really must consider coming home now that this nasty siege business is done."
"This is home. I likes it here. Maybe I'll gets us all a snugpod."
Keys grinned to herself as Alyssandre shuddered at the notion.
"Come now, let me go back home and find a noble so we can each have our own room, Sweetroll. Don't you want a big canopy bed in an airy chamber with servants to cook and clean for you?"
"I want a roof an' four good walls. It don't hafta be fancy."
"Doesn't, darling."
"Oh, yes, ma'am," Keys affected her sister's breathy, high-pitched voice. "I must speak like an altmer and dye my fur white with silver spots - not grey, daaaaahling, SIL-ver, and squish the tits I barely even have up and together."
"Well, the sooner you get used to a corset, the easier it'll be to wear a proper dress."
"I hate dresses. You can't run in 'em."
"You'll have to wear one eventually. Even if I don't marry rich, think of all the weddings you'll have to go to."
"I'll just dress like a fancy boy."
"You'll look silly doing that when you fill out."
"I thought you wasn't willin' to accept that you might not marry a prince."
"Well, I don't know, that one really big guard with the grey hair is is rather handsome..."
"You don't stands a chance."
"You're probably right, but it's worth at least trying." She gave an airy sigh.
"You're gross."
"You're gross."
"You're grosser."
"You'll understand when you have your first crush, darling. It sounds like you already have a few, the way you talk about people around here."
"Do NOT!"
"Oh, but I think you do. What about that argonian healer?"
"Nope."
"You loooooove him. You're going to go find the Hist and fight for the right to his affections."
"Blehh, no! Shut up!"
"You're going to come back here with an egg to raise with him. You're going to leave all the argonian girls just heartbroken."
"That a'int even how it works. Besides, he's just a good healer is all."
Alyssandre giggled and plucked Keys's earrings back out, drying the steel rings inlaid with pyrite on a handkerchief, then slid them back into their holes. "In all seriousness, darling, you'd be surprised how much your expectations change as you grow. You've this wonderful vision in your head of the perfect khajiit, and I do hope it comes to fruition, but keep an open mind. Perhaps your soulmate is a wild bosmer boy, hm? This town's lifestyle does suit you well enough."
"If I married a boy here, would you stay?"
"No, but we'd all visit. Unless he moved to Anvil with us?"
"I don't know if I wanna go back. Not after what happened there." Keys leaned back against Alyssandre and pouted.
"Mm, nasty business, that. Nastier when you're involved in the trading. We'll find a place, Swetroll. With room for your incarcerated friend, too. Stay positive, yes?"
"Yeah, I guess so. You's so sappy. I'm gonna go practice shootin'."
"Be safe, darling."
"Keys. I don't want Ma's name for me."
"It's a fine name. Far more respectable than that roguish nickname of yours, regardless of how you feel about Mother."
Alyssande patted the patch of bed before her. Keys climbed on and sat with her back to her sister, letting the older khajiit remove her earrings and drop them into a glass of vodka, then dab some onto the piercings. The grooming ritual had become a part of their daily check-ins, regardless of whether they bickered or not.
"You fed Peantut today?"
"Fed Peanut, dusted the warehouse, visited Wrae, caught a fish, peed three times, an' snuck behind the tavern to pick my nose."
"You're not still using your claws like you did when you were little, are you?" Alyssandre asked, grabbing the cub's chin and turning her head towards her to check for a nosebleed.
"I didn't expect you to take that last part seriously! How much more information do ya need?"
Keys shoved Alyssandre's hands away, but didn't object to having her mohawk brushed out seconds later. The older sister pulled her into a tight hug.
"I just want to make sure my baby is safe and well. You really must consider coming home now that this nasty siege business is done."
"This is home. I likes it here. Maybe I'll gets us all a snugpod."
Keys grinned to herself as Alyssandre shuddered at the notion.
"Come now, let me go back home and find a noble so we can each have our own room, Sweetroll. Don't you want a big canopy bed in an airy chamber with servants to cook and clean for you?"
"I want a roof an' four good walls. It don't hafta be fancy."
"Doesn't, darling."
"Oh, yes, ma'am," Keys affected her sister's breathy, high-pitched voice. "I must speak like an altmer and dye my fur white with silver spots - not grey, daaaaahling, SIL-ver, and squish the tits I barely even have up and together."
"Well, the sooner you get used to a corset, the easier it'll be to wear a proper dress."
"I hate dresses. You can't run in 'em."
"You'll have to wear one eventually. Even if I don't marry rich, think of all the weddings you'll have to go to."
"I'll just dress like a fancy boy."
"You'll look silly doing that when you fill out."
"I thought you wasn't willin' to accept that you might not marry a prince."
"Well, I don't know, that one really big guard with the grey hair is is rather handsome..."
"You don't stands a chance."
"You're probably right, but it's worth at least trying." She gave an airy sigh.
"You're gross."
"You're gross."
"You're grosser."
"You'll understand when you have your first crush, darling. It sounds like you already have a few, the way you talk about people around here."
"Do NOT!"
"Oh, but I think you do. What about that argonian healer?"
"Nope."
"You loooooove him. You're going to go find the Hist and fight for the right to his affections."
"Blehh, no! Shut up!"
"You're going to come back here with an egg to raise with him. You're going to leave all the argonian girls just heartbroken."
"That a'int even how it works. Besides, he's just a good healer is all."
Alyssandre giggled and plucked Keys's earrings back out, drying the steel rings inlaid with pyrite on a handkerchief, then slid them back into their holes. "In all seriousness, darling, you'd be surprised how much your expectations change as you grow. You've this wonderful vision in your head of the perfect khajiit, and I do hope it comes to fruition, but keep an open mind. Perhaps your soulmate is a wild bosmer boy, hm? This town's lifestyle does suit you well enough."
"If I married a boy here, would you stay?"
"No, but we'd all visit. Unless he moved to Anvil with us?"
"I don't know if I wanna go back. Not after what happened there." Keys leaned back against Alyssandre and pouted.
"Mm, nasty business, that. Nastier when you're involved in the trading. We'll find a place, Swetroll. With room for your incarcerated friend, too. Stay positive, yes?"
"Yeah, I guess so. You's so sappy. I'm gonna go practice shootin'."
"Be safe, darling."