"Don't worry, the wait makes it all the sweeter." The wisdom of age and adventure have tempered Ashu's youthful impatience. A man's age ago he would've chafed at such denial, demanded to be fucked right here and now—the impatient ashlander boy with no cause yet something to prove.
Now thrice-proven he can afford the wait. To stalk and savor.
The food stalls don't carry the sort of meat he's thinking of savoring at the moment, but their open air nature bodes well—it's much harder to poison foods in plain view, and their quality can be assessed at a quick glance. Meat is meat no matter the realm, sugary glaze and crispy, golden skin skewered onto wooden sticks reminiscent of the ubiquitous chicken. How the Imperials love that feathered menace. Not as good as guar or kagouti, but cheap, bearable and—Mephala forgive him—even delicious if cooked right.
His stomach growls in anticipation. Being pumped full of chemicals then forced to fuck had done wonders for his appetite. Ravenous, but a mer must have some pride.
Of course it's 'incarnate'. Better than 'godkiller' or, worse, Nerever. "Ashu," he answers easily, hooking an arm around one of V's massive biceps, coquettish. He doesn't want to think about such nonsense at the moment. Leave Vvardenfell where it belongs, back in Tamriel. "Come on. I'm starving."
no subject
Now thrice-proven he can afford the wait. To stalk and savor.
The food stalls don't carry the sort of meat he's thinking of savoring at the moment, but their open air nature bodes well—it's much harder to poison foods in plain view, and their quality can be assessed at a quick glance. Meat is meat no matter the realm, sugary glaze and crispy, golden skin skewered onto wooden sticks reminiscent of the ubiquitous chicken. How the Imperials love that feathered menace. Not as good as guar or kagouti, but cheap, bearable and—Mephala forgive him—even delicious if cooked right.
His stomach growls in anticipation. Being pumped full of chemicals then forced to fuck had done wonders for his appetite. Ravenous, but a mer must have some pride.
Of course it's 'incarnate'. Better than 'godkiller' or, worse, Nerever. "Ashu," he answers easily, hooking an arm around one of V's massive biceps, coquettish. He doesn't want to think about such nonsense at the moment. Leave Vvardenfell where it belongs, back in Tamriel. "Come on. I'm starving."