The Thinking Chair

(A/N): Always punctual, aren't we? Well at least it's finally here!

During the initial planning of this series of stories, this instalment didn't actually exist. However, following Stradlater's little adventure on his own with Scales and Gath I realised something... Just what the hell was Wonders up to during this entire period?

The original plan was to just insinuate what he was doing at the end of the last story and move on, but I sensed an opportunity to create an additional story that explains what he was up to in the meantime. Hopefully this story works out in deepening the purposefully mysterious backstory of Wonders whilst simultaneously giving depth to a side character that's never really done much :O (Notice my subtle foreshadowing there? :3)

I'm still incredibly rusty after the exams... But hope beats despair! Let's get started :P

WARNING: Spelling errors, mildly inappropriate language, surprisingly detailed sexual discussions, bad jokes, a notable lack of Stradlater, me trying to detail the mental processes of a woman despite having a knob, a not-too-subtle rip off of a certain novel, and a moral that goes all over the place!

Chapter One: Tattle-Tale

"You were always the generous type."

"What can I say?" Wonders spread out his arms like the graceful wings of an eagle, accepting the well-deserved praise of his merit and worth. He returned the bow, the entire morning nothing more than a performance to him. "Might as well spread a little love, yes?"

Shaking his head from side to side as if it were the bosom of a working girl, Stradlater barged on past him and walked for the front door with his shopping list on hand. There was something about the way his hips swayed to accommodate his sheathed blade and its scabbard that made him look a lot like the magician's granny. Give him a handbag, a tail, and make his skin a tad bit less rough, and he'd have the perfect alibi for an even more perfect crime.

As the Redguard shouldered his way out of sight with an unnecessary amount of heroism in his gait, Wonders continued to suckle on the lip of his ale like a cannibalistic toddler on the teat. "... Redguards are terrible." he said to no one in particular, kicking at his table childishly. "They're compensating for something with those curved swords."

He listened intently.

No retort.

No punches to the face.

A wicked and giddy grin that would put a conniving dragon to shame sprouted across his gob. He never thought he'd see the day, but here he was: entirely on his lonesome and without his companion there to tug at his hood and hold him back. It only ever seemed to happen once a year, and yearly things tended to involve all sorts of celebration. This would be a day that children lauded in the near future.

Wonders lazily rocked his chair back and forth, leaning to the side to stretch out and filch a neighbour's ale without the effort of getting on his feet. True, the whole rocking manoeuvre took enough effort to give his arse a six pack and hair, but it was more about making a statement than anything else. Feeling particularly charitable that morning, Wonders left his dazed victim a small tip for his troubles - a couple of dated septims to make it worth his while.

Sainthood, here he came.

To be fair, maybe it wasn't Stradlater's fault that he was generally an incredibly dull person to hang around with. Maybe all the frantic bludgeonings he took from draugr and bandits and other ne'er-do-wells day in and day out snapped a couple of his funny bones. As much as it hurt his ego to say it the Redguard was a damn good sword to have handy, and he needed some muscle to keep himself standing. The charred nomad was the best guard he could get his hands on. Certainly the only guard that could cope with his sheer bodacity.

But that didn't change one simple fact. Since their arrival at Whiterun months back they hadn't so much as left eachother's company for an instant, sticking together like horny teenagers whilst clearing out bandit camps and adventuring across Skyrim. They seemed to sit together every consecutive night, drinking the same piss-swill ale and eating the same maggoty beef and exchanging the same overused jokes time and time again. Call him needy, but he couldn't maintain his tip top and happy go lucky personality twenty-four-seven. He needed a break from time to time, you see.

He glugged a bit more. The drink of that Nordic neighbour of his seemed to have some crunchy bits in it. Generally that wasn't a good sign, but the Argonian reluctantly dealt with it. If anything, it was probably good for the teeth and gums.

Of course there was no potion, surely the Redguard understood that. Even he wasn't that thick, was he?

Slendoor's Legs.

Nyce's Thighs.

Pert's Bottom.

Sounded like the title-act at an Orcish brothel.

Wonders had never actually been to an Orcish brothel before, but he'd heard a couple of rumours about their existence in the more "civilised" reaches of Tamriel. In those few places where you couldn't solve all your problems by kicking its head in, some holds - in the absence of males - apparently offered sexual favours to those who had a particular taste in green mer with serious dental problems. Wonders didn't really get the allure: You could always shag a mouldy, gangrenous corpse instead.

At least they wouldn't fight back.

Certainly smelt nicer.

Making sure to cross his legs 'less his mace's head grew bulbous and unruly, he gave the Mare yet another do over with his vigilant eyes. It was a tad bit challenging what with his eyes being on the side of his head and all, but he made do. This little spot in the tavern had been his from the very first day that he and Stradlater had started crashing there. Gave him a secure view of the entrance, a straight shot to the John, enough shade for the rare sunny day, and a nice angle on the bartender whenever she bent over. Which was quite a lot, what with the oven and all.

This was the sort of spot that you'd advertise on a sale at an estate agents. He should've gotten a lease on it before any pretenders got the drop on him; this was a quality square metre of soil. Monuments could be erected here for all to partake in their magnificence.

When the door was thrown open, Wonders made sure to keep his gaze low and his cowl up. The bartender was just about to turn over some bread, and would've been exposed at the rear flank for at least a full ten glorious seconds. But there was always the risk that the latest client was a close friend of hers who wouldn't take kindly to his hobby, or a fearsome daedric death lord with enough pointy bits on his helmet to please the most devout sadomasochist.

He honestly feared the former more.

With a jingle of jewellery and coin that would entice even the most restrained of thieves, an armed woman wrapped in an elaborate orgy of Elvish and Nordic armours paced into the scummy hive of the Bannered Mare. She would've been quite the intimidating figure, if it wasn't for the fact that she was a little bit of a midget. Wonders, as his namesake implied, honestly wondered in complete silence if she'd used some sort of step-ladder contraption to reach the door knob. Or had she done a running jump, using her momentum to throw the door forwards?

He would've kept spouting out all sorts of snarky comments and began bubbling at the snout with laughter, but he was quick to realise just who this tiny person was. Taking the appropriate course of action, he let his body slouch into his seat and did his very best to try and slither down and hide under his table.

Faelindra, the sole Bosmeri Housecarl of Whiterun and one of the guard's most skilled warriors, strode past the bar with the exact same swagger Stradlater had departed with. Was this some sort of cruel metaphor dripping with deep metaphysical meaning, or was it just one big bloody coincidence?

Regardless, the woman made it work.

Even he wished he had hips like that.

Sauntering past the counter with feminine confidence and masculine pride, the walking contradiction gestured at a bar wench with a flick of her thumb. Either it was a gesture for her to kindly sod off before she shoved that particular digit up her arse or it was a request for a drink, because regardless the bartender scarpered off into the back room like mudcrabs were clicking at her heels.

Wonders did what military officers frequently commanded during combat, and kept his head down low. It's not that he disliked the Bosmeri housecarl, far from it: She had the unique honour in his eyes of being regarded as "someone he'd met". However, this was supposed to be his day. Wonders Day. The first of many celebrations of individual worth and merit involving him getting royally doused on his lonesome. Call him a loner - which he totally was - but the only company he wanted right now was a bottle of Alto Wine and a modestly sized Argonian bosom that possessed its own orbit.

Faelindra leant her back against the counter for a moment, probably finding it too problematic to make a running jump for one of the stools and going for a safer bet. The Bosmeri eyed the clientele for a bit like any guard would, who all suddenly seemed very interested with the texture of their tables or shoes. Either fooled by their good behaviour or not too bothered, the elf took up the flagon she'd ordered and muttered a gentle "cheers" under her breath.

When she faced in his general direction, Wonders decided to stay calm. Being scared certainly wasn't the most productive choice in the world at the moment, especially when you wanted to keep a low profile. He did his best to stifle his trembling, but that didn't stop all the cutlery on his table clinking together to sound like somebody's neurotic grandmother with a tray of tea.

Faelindra spotted him and set off from the counter, waving towards him genially. Wonders did the logical thing and tugged at his collar, like any other sane person would.

There's someone behind you, don't worry.

Still she kept moving, closer and closer with every heartbeat. The Argonian gritted his teeth: there was no shame in fear, only in letting it rule you. He was being a perfect example for aspiring Argonians everywhere, his trembling and shuddering controlled by pure common sense and that alone. He wasn't worried. Nuh-uh, not one bit.

There's an open seat in this direction.

Maybe not worried, but certainly a tad bit terrified. This was supposed to be his day! Was this secretly being orchestrated by the Redguard behind his back? Was he currently standing at the doorway laughing his little burnt bum off while his ex decided to ruin the magician's morning? Faelindra took up the seat opposite of him, where the nomad had sat moments prior - she probably didn't notice all the soot and sweat that Stradlater tended to leave behind. She called his name curiously.

There was another Argonian called Silent-He-Wonders here.

"Uhh, Wonders?" Faelindra asked, hunkering down uninvited. The Argonian almost resembled a floppy children's toy left on the bedside in a generic horror novel. "Did someone remove your spine when I wasn't looking?"

Employing his elbows and arse cheeks once more, Wonder snaked his way back up in an impressive display of grace only ruined by his perpetual grunts of effort. The magician sat up as straight as he possibly could, doing his best to laud his superior height over the Mer. "... Hello, Bosmer."

It seemed he remembered her, which was surprising enough on its own. "Thought I'd find you around here." she said, folding her arms atop the table. "Haven't gotten any harassment complaints about you so far today. Usually means you've stayed indoors."

Wonders scowled at the mention of it. It was true that the citizens of Whiterun often didn't take kindly to his tirades and speeches about the superiority of the Argonian race. Yet they were perfectly content with letting some deranged Stormcloak sympathiser scream at the top of his lungs at Dragonscreach as if he'd stumped his toe on spear point. "Oh, I'm on break." he admitted apologetically, "I'll make sure to put in some overtime tomorrow."

Faelindra half-nodded, feigning amazement at his "dedication". "You're an inspiration to us all."

"Damn right I am!" Wonders took her words at face value, making sure his ego grew yet another flabby chin.

There was an awkward silence following that. There weren't many types of silences in the realm of Tamriel, yet it always seemed that the awkward sort happened the most. Wonders couldn't recall the last time he'd had a meaningful silence, or a romantic one. Not even a super duper serious one filled to the brim with pauses and ellipsis's, which was the best kind by far. Eager to not add to his personal statistics, he broke it over his knee.

"Any particular reason you're here?" Wonders leant forward, hoping to entice the wood elf with his lovely mane. "Or are you just eying the goods? They're off limits to elves I'm afraid, in spite of your desires". He took particular pleasure in teasing non-Argonian women, reminding them that they'd never get a chance to have his pants on their bedroom floor.

Most of them seemed to just laugh.

Sad laughter though, right? Pretty sure that exists.

Admittedly, the city guard took some small comfort in letting the magician speak. It certainly gave her eyeballs some exercise, letting them spin about in their sockets like the gyros of a Dwemer contraption. "Don't flatter yourself Wonders." she decided to not just force reality in his face, but instead clobber him silly with it. "When I look at you, the only desire I feel is the desire to pull out your tongue and play it like a lyre."

Wonders blinked. "... Is that some sort of kinky euphemism?"

It certainly could be. "Depends on what you're into. Up for it?" the ranger asked, pushing down on the table and rising to her feet. The Argonian raised his hands in surrender, prompting her to sink down with mock disappointment. "Kill joy." she frowned, accentuating the faint purple swelling under her eyes. "I'm taking the day off. Might be hard for you to comprehend, but patrolling the gates of this city every night tends to get a tad bit tiring. I only just finished my shift, you know." she rose up her glass like a goods peddler, nodding at it in a way that could only be described as "mildly condescending". "Felt like a drink to take the edge off."

A drink this early in the morning? What a sad, sad woman.

Wonders downed another round.

Knocking back what was left of his flagon, Wonders offered a toast of respect. "Then here's to you." he rocked it back and forth, trying to ignore the rattling sound at the bottom of his mug. "Whenever I'm getting royally flummoxed, tugging tarts or having a snooze, I'll know that I owe it to your noble sacrifice." he nodded to himself in pride, commending his valiant and merciful words. As Faelindra returned to sipping from her own brew, he couldn't help but ask the question. You know the one. "... Ever tipped one of those cows at Pelagia Farm while on duty? When no one's looking I mean."

Her reply was dripping in so much sarcasm that she could feel it pooling up to her knees. "... I make sure they're looking. It's all about sending a message."

Oh, he liked her.

She was his kind of scum.

Sealing the deal with a flurry of frantic nods, the two returned to - believe it or not - awkward silence. It's not that they wanted to be quiet. If anything the only way they could survive the horror that they'd put themselves into was to spend the entirety of it talking. But honestly, what was there to really talk about? So much of Wonders' commentary was based purely on taking the piss out of the smelly Redguard that he tagged along with all the time, and it was becoming increasingly apparent that Faelindra was of the same mindset. Without Stradlater, they had less material than your average Bard.

They needed him.

By the Hist and the Hunt, that was pretty freakin' corny.

At least he was putting an effort in, if he said so himself. The Mer wasn't particularly good at sustaining conversations, although that was expected from someone who came from Valenwood - an underdeveloped woodland where people spent most of their time talking to rocks and trees whilst simultaneously eating eachother in more ways than one. He doubted most of the Wood Elves were the charismatic sort in civil society, what with the bits of elven and human flesh stuck between their jagged rows of teeth. That tended to sour the mood.

But speaking to Faelindra? It felt like talking to that one special needs kid that everyone knows. You know the one who your parents forced you to be friends with, and refused to listen to you when he started showing you his strange and mildly horrific hobbies?

"I thought you'd be a lot more talkative than this." he thought aloud, his magnificent mind so overflowing with cunning and logic that he couldn't help but vent the valves every now and then.

Faelindra took it well to be truthful. He expected a tantrum or something; that's what women tend to do, isn't it? "You've only heard me speak around the boys." she pointed out, lowering her tankard to scratch at the brim of her nose. The way she said "the boys" instantly put the image of a female coach who gave her students sexual favours whenever they did well in the magician's head, which goes to show a lot about Wonders' general state of mind. "When I'm off duty, I kind of just..."

"Fael?" his wit launched into overdrive, slinging out the classic play on words. The Bosmer looked at him with either suppressed blood curdling rage, or suppressed blood curdling fury. He couldn't quite tell, but it was clear that she needed an explanation - possibly with pop-up pictures and scratch'n'sniffs. "Fael? As in-"

After a moment of consideration, she nocked her own retort and let it loose. "I wonder when you'll be silent."

"That was forced." Wonders tutted, disappointed by her lack of gusto.

"You're one to talk." she snarled, those sharp and unrealistically perfect teeth of hers flashing as she reached for her flagon again. How many people had she cannibalised and eaten? How many people had she gone to bed with and "eaten", too?

She must've liked her meat burnt and charred.

Was Sentinel famed for its red meats? He didn't quite know.

Noticing the magician deep in thought, she gave him the most belittling pout she could muster - one she usually only spared for cheaters and certain Redguards. "Don't worry your little green head, Argonian. Give me a couple more drinks and I'll be the heart of the party."

"My green head isn't little..." he whispered to himself in shock, taken aback by her forward nature. Was she so bestial that she spoke about such sensitive sexual topics out in the open? What sort of twisted backwater did the Bosmer come from? Because he wanted to go there. He crossed his legs with a feminine flourish, subtly shrouding his private mace. She was like a teen's mother at a family meet-up, sharing stories of all the terribly embarrassing things their child did in their baby years. Simply, Wonders wanted her gone. "Can't you just hang out with your guard friends?"

Faelindra shook her supposedly ordinarily sized head. "Thing is, they're not my friends." she informed. In the grand scheme of things there was no point in being anything but friendly towards the people you work with, what with it making the day pass easier. That didn't mean she and her fellow guards shared any common values beyond an affinity for giving bandits a right bollocking. "I don't have many friends really."

Just look at her. She was a Bosmeri killing machine armed with a shield, a hatchet, and a shortbow with enough arrows to fillet an entire hold. She was probably a cannibal, and she was definitely the head of the Whiterun City Guard. There wasn't a single person in the whole of Nirn and every other alternate reality combined that actually liked the city guard, going around with their burly arms folded, spouting out all sorts of nonsense about your weapon preferences - usually wrong - and shamelessly plugging local stores. Wonders stared into his flagon, counting the crunchy bits wordlessly. "Gee, I wonder why?"

"Well I think-"

"Hypothetical."

More slurping, the atmosphere of low mumbles that encompassed the tavern growing louder and louder in the void. By the Hist, Wonders felt so out of place. Was this what it was like to be on a date with someone, downing cheap ale until your partner started looking shaggable? Maybe that was it, and she was subtly coming on to him - date rape brought to a whole new level. He wouldn't judge her for it; few women could control their feminine impulses and hold back their liquids in his presence. The mage supposed that some people just wanted a lean, mean, green fighting machine to keep them safe in this cruel world of theirs. And when it came to all the above and then some, he delivered.

He glanced over his tankard like an entranced voyeur peeping over your garden hedges. Maybe she just wanted to have a chat about something? Didn't some people just like to gather and gossip about absolutely nothing, gaining sod all from the experience save for the knowledge that no one is having a good day? He certainly couldn't care less, but maybe - just maybe - if he satisfied her insatiable needs she'd shove off back to wherever she came from and give him the rest of the day off.

Do, or do not. There is no try.

No greater words had ever been spoke.

Tapping into his true power, the Argonian kept an eye on the Mare's front and only door. He never quite understood the logic of putting a single door on an Inn and Bar that served a populous enclave and could host around fifty people at any given time. As if evacuating in an emergency situation was hard enough with drunk people as it is, having a bunch of Nords all trying to squeeze through the same door at the same time - while overwhelmingly funny - would generally be a tad bit detrimental to the clientele's state of living.

Wonders nudged Faelindra's shoulder as the door was shoved open. She stirred with confusion, looking like a king being caught nodding off at a small council meeting. Making sure she could actually see, Wonders nodded at the entrance. "See that bloke?" he asked her, pointing forward. She pivoted to see said bloke, only for the magician to pull her back around. "Don't stare."

After a moment's pause, she snuck a stealthy glance at the man. Rest assured, she'd seen decomposing bears that looked more appealing. She'd seen maggots eating decomposing bears that she'd rather have touching her nubile body. Gritting her teeth at the trauma and agony her eyes were going through, she turned back for a breather. "He's burning my eyes as it is. Why would I stare?"

"You're looking at Elsewyr's greatest swimmer." Wonders conjured up on the spot, trying to think of the most unbelievable and bogus story that could, in some ways, be considered possible. "He's here on a championship to lap around Whiterun's canal with his class."

"He's a Nord." Faelindra pointed out, her voice as flat as her chest. No man had the lung capacity to inflate her imagination to a sufficient volume. "If you ask me, he's too hairy to be a Khajit."

Ignoring this, he pressed on the assault. "Bet he's ordering something fancy to show his class." he offered, as the swimmer called down a bartender and got his hands on a bottle of scotch that must've been drier than a female draugr with severe congestion. "By the Hist, Khajit swimmers. The worst kind of swimmer."

"You obviously haven't seen a Bosmer swim." the wood elf sighed, watching the supposed sports star skip off from whence he came. "It's a lot of flailing and splashing, interrupted by occasional bouts of drowning."

Subject number two followed not long after, the offending article coming through with a buddy in tow for twice the fun. "Okay, what about this bloke?" Wonders pointed out. He was a large mercenary with enough scars on his face to get an orc chieftain to pull down his pants and bend over in respect. "Look at him. Wolf pattern on his chestplate, wolf fur on his back, a wolf pelt on his head, a wolf sigil on his palm. Even a wolf on his wolf wolf." he snickered enthusiastically. "Call me a detective, but I've a sneaky suspicion that he likes wolves."

She must've began understanding the game at this point, weaving the most outrageous tales for whoever entered the Mare to pass the time. She gave him a do over; he certainly wasn't her type. He seemed the sort who used mating calls and dancing rituals to find women, offering them corpses as courting presents. "With a face like that, probably likes them a bit too much."

They called it "doggy style" for a reason.

Wolfie overheard the suspiciously well timed chuckles of the table over yonder, inhabited by a scrawny looking woman and her Bosmeri companion. He exchanged a glare with his wingman, likely incredibly self conscious about his intimidating visage. Their eyes fixed on the couple ahead, they took a seat by the door judgmentally. Rest assured, the span of their bulbous arms alone interfered with at least half of Wonder's view. He honestly wondered how they would manage to eat and drink without getting stuck on or breaking something.

Like the relentless torrent of a flood yet another victim waltzed in, his body taking quite some time to escape from the cover of the mercenary's girth and catch up. He looked like a right sort of work - the poor bastard had a comb over for crying out loud. Wonders pounced like a feral cougar on a rich preteen boy. "You thought he was bad, what about this gentleman?"

Faelindra took a while to speak up after stealing a view, no doubt overwhelmed by the man's head of hair - or rather what was left of it. "Question."

The Argonian said "Shoot."

"What's up with your accent changing every two seconds?" the Bosmer asked, doing her best impression of the Redguard and raising an eyebrow to such death-defying heights that he swore it began to tremble from vertigo. "You didn't speak like this the first time we met. You've got the consistency of a baby's first dump."

This of course struck Wonders as being a bit odd, who loudly blinked with unexpected self critique. Did his voice and inflections change at all? He'd never really noticed, and Stradlater had never commented on it. He just spoke how he did, interjecting a couple of witty words or his phrase of the day as any other ordinary person did. Why was she suddenly drawing attention to something like that, like the awkward erection of a priest at a wedding? He shrugged it off, like he often did. "He's here on a tip off reckon."

She continued as if she hadn't said a word, which only served to make Wonders even more self conscious. "What sort of tip off?" she squinted through the crowd, spying on Lord Comb Over as he leant against the counter and tapped the barkeep on the shoulder - rather personally, mind. "He's talking to the bartender about something."

That was more than enough evidence to charge him, rough him up a bit, and put him on trial. "She must be his source, the rascal." the Argonian concluded. He glared at him with a mixture of disgust and jealously, his scales a furious green - which is pretty insignificant if you consider the fact that they were green in the first place. "Look at him: Bald hair, big beard, pot belly. Bet he's got a Chaurus fetish."

Perhaps he liked a lady with legs?

Viscount Comb Over the Fifth of Bruma shook the barmaid's hand so eagerly that he could've powered an ancient locomotive for decades, before snatching a piece of paper with some scribbled shorthand on and scarpering off into the unknown. His podgy gut swung from side to side, empowered with enough velocity to lay out a giant in one fell stroke. "And there he goes, off to lose his virginity." Faelindra narrated wistfully, the man's courageous adventure continuing. He may have not been in their eyes, but he would remain in their hearts for all of two minutes. She added an addendum at the sheer insanity of his needs, "... Probably his knob in the process."

"Well, I did say it was a "tip off" Wonders replied, pretending as if that punny punch line was the entire point of their chat. Rest assured, he thought he pulled it off quite convincingly - he wasn't punished for his pun by the pundit before him, that's for certain. "Although he'd need to actually find it first."

Faelindra hadn't actually noticed until now, but throughout the course of this little game she had managed to get herself into quite an enjoyable rhythm of drinking. Her brain was starting to fizzle, and her digits beginning to tickle. She'd always been a bit of a light weight to be fair. It must've had something to do with her height, although she often reminded people that she was a bit taller than your average Bosmeri woman. Why, not too long ago she'd met an Imperial woman that she was the same height as!

Regardless, in a few hours time she'd be the same height as anyone else in the Mare. Because she'd be laid out on the floor, drowning her sorrows with round after round. Grabbing all those regrets and doubts that filled her mind and holding them under the waterfall, fighting with their flailing and thrashing forms as the last of their breath faded away.

They always came back though.

Back to mock her silly, the bastards.

It wasn't even funny anymore.

"How did you lose your virginity?"

I took Wonders a good few moments to realise that it was Faelindra who was asking this question. Now he'd heard quite a few unannounced questions in the past; this was a man who spent a good few years stuck in a classroom with a bunch of Nordic mage wannabes with less of a grasp on reality than a moon sugar addict. Still, this one was quite a high ranker in his list of strange questions. He'd have to put it up there with the classic "Why're you such a derisive prat, you thick piece of faecal matter?" and "Why're you following me?". He coughed purposefully, "... Lose it?"

The Bosmeri rose her eyebrow as if this was no big deal, and nodded her head.

By the Hist, she was sex mad!

Had she killed before? Was this how she got to you, keeping you distracted by having you question your state of sexual accomplishment as she straddled your lap and took you on a magical ride through time and space? The Argonian was honestly worried for the entire city's wellbeing, let alone his own. Would he be the first of many? How many people would be admitted into hospital for crushed pelvises after tangling with this nymphomaniac?

Of course Wonders kept his cool; he only whimpered once or twice before finding his voice again. "... Why, I got around so much in my boyhood. How could I remember some random fling with one of Black Marsh's many beautiful babes?" he propositioned, trying to turn the question around. He saw his chance, and leapt for it like two mortal enemies going for the same sword in a thrilling finale. "... Actually, why are you even asking you perverted little midget?"

Faelindra wasn't a mother. She wasn't the sort who could see a face and suddenly work out their entire life story; what they did for a living, what they were thinking, how many millilitres of milk they had in a fortnight and the like. With that in mind, the fact that even she could say - without hesitation - that the only thing Wonders had ever had sex with was currently occupied clutching onto a flagon filled with crusty things just went to show how obvious the truth really was. "Not much to talk about." she snarked, hoping to convey her understanding in her tone of voice alone. With anyone else, it would've probably worked. "Figured there might be a funny story involved."

Oh, he could tell her a story.

One big issue though.

He still knew exactly where his virginity was, and it was always on his person.

Part of him considered what was at stake in this unbelievable scenario. Trying his best to avoid having his life flash before his eyes, he decided to do what he was born to do as lord of the bluffs. And so he improvised. "Funny?" he nodded, which was rather underwhelming. "Well, if you must know I've got quite a story to tell. One full of pain and despair, and enough kinks to make a Daedric dominatrix blush." he announced with so much enthusiasm that he could practically hear the advertising agencies mailing him recruitment forms. "I actually met a Daedric dominatrix once, you know. 'though that's a story for some other time."

Why, she'd almost been his Destiny.

"You have my ear." she smirked, holding her hands together on the table like a general at one of those weird strategy tables with all the cool pieces. "... Don't drop it."

Wonders began without so much as a pause, aiming for full-on speed. "Right then. Several years ago, I was a student at the College of Winterhold. In my class we had the honour of having one of the Archmage's twin daughters in our midst, Lissandra. My age, Aldmeri, blonde." this story was actually true to an extent. During his days in school the Archmage did indeed have a daughter called Lissandra who went to the same class as him. Sat in front of him in fact, her goofy elvish locks and even goofier pointy ears completely blocking the blackboard. She was a right bitch, if you wanted to keep it PG. "Of course she had an eye on me from the very start. Everyone seemed to stare at me and whisper to eachother during my college days... I guess my aroma got to them."

"Anyway, sometime during her third week in my class we're leaving the Atrium, as we often do, when suddenly someone rams into me and shoves me into one of the cleaning cupboards." Wonders recalled, his jaw shuddering in memory like a PTSD victim in an interview. "It was Lissandra. She closed the door behind us, and blew out the candles."

She'd beaten him up next. Like most high-strung elves she couldn't handle his mature and debonair attitudes. Maybe it was the "Out with Mer" slogan on his satchel, or his frequent speeches in the courtyard against lesser races, but something in the barbaric animal snapped that day and she decided to unload that pent up anger on him. Like the brute she was she dragged him off where no one could see his struggle or hear his cries, and thoroughly kicked his head in - with his own shoe.

He should've made it a threesome with the twin.

Come on Wonders, don't be so modest.

Now came the creative part. He didn't want to lose his sole audient, who watched on with an expression of disbelief - the good or bad kind, he couldn't quite tell. Maybe he should've toned it down? "She pulled her robes off in one motion." he imagined, digging into his mind for his favourite quotes from the many erotic fantasy novels he read. These were the big winners; the ones he ripped from the books and hid under his pillow with all the others for use during his private me time. "... Cor, her underwear. Gave "skimpy" a new meaning with how ghostly and translucent they were. You could probably get into a lifelong philosophical debate with the greatest scholars over whether or not they even existed." he gurgled, "You could've used her body at one of those Temples of Kynareth as a humane form of euthanasia, and the wounded would die happily."

"And the breasts..." he began to nod off into his own Lalaland. Now to be perfectly honest to himself, few things turned him on more than seeing Aldmeri and other lesser peoples submitting to his greatness. Yet this was something he couldn't quite let out; just think of the scandals! "N-Nothing on an Argonian's of course, but you have to remember that this was my first time! I was naive!" he clarified, to which the Bosmer nodded in apparent understanding. Satisfied that she'd fallen for his dastardly ploy, he went back to tooting his own horn. "I wanted to hold them near me. Wanted to draw a face on them and make them my new best friends. I was but a schoolboy, and she was but a schoolgirl, trapped by the authority to wile away our days reading books - forever expressionless in the sexless robes that we wore. And right then and there, totally kitless, we were free."

Faelindra suddenly interrupted, like the joy killing city guard that she was. "There were no candles, how could you even see?"

He hadn't seen anything on the day. That was the entire point of the location. That way when the door opened and she let in a bunch of her friends to help kick his head in, he couldn't see their faces. After it all happened, he had no one to blame - he'd just tripped on a conveniently placed wheelbarrow and "fallen down the stairs". Wonders dealt with the insubordination professionally. "Shhh, my story."

The daft bitch had actually left the room when her posse came in. She even had the guts to take his shoe with her, which he sadly never saw again. Only the Hist could truly know what horrors befell his shoe, but he wished it the best of luck in the afterlife. "She turned away from me, leant forward... Started to peel away what was left. I was inches away from two taut hummocks of golden flesh that just begged to be squeezed together and polished to resemble two shining orbs of topaz." nothing else had happened at this point. The group got tired chinning him repeatedly and eventually left him in the cupboard all bloodied to writhe in a cage of torment. He wasn't quite sure how long he spent in there, but he was conscious for the most of it. Ever tried sleeping when your head feels like it's been kicked in, because it just has? Not the easiest task imaginable. "... She asked me to stand up. I did as she said, slouching forward so my third leg didn't reach her an hour before the rest of me of course." he exhaled steamily, "Lissandra beckoned me closer..."

What happens next?

Filler was the obvious solution. There wasn't a single issue in any story that couldn't be solved by pointless filler. He was like your ordinary novellist, trying to bolster the word count and make his work look more epic by filling it to the brim with big, hard to spell words like "Antidisestablishmentarianism" and "Separate".

"My entire body was just engorged with blood. It wasn't even going around anymore, it just stood entirely still. I guess my brain was too fried to get it moving." he cooed, "My tongue was hanging out all gooey and gross, refusing to budge and sit back inside my mouth where it used to fit." here came the hard part. The whammy. "... And Lissy said 'I've fallen for you, Wonders. I've realised just how enticing your stellar bod and slender tail truly are. You're sharp, funny, and you don't like yourself so much that you've got no like left for me.'" he looked at the Bosmer to gauge her response, always caring for his audience. She was absolutely gobsmacked. Good. "Uhhh... 'Now do things to me'".

If for some strange reason you'd actually believed in the pile of tosh he was spouting from the start, you certainly wouldn't now. Who could honestly accept that another sentient being called the Argonian selfless? Maybe a dead thrall without a head or a legless drunken lout, but an actual person? An actual, three dimensional being? The continued existence of the Dark Brotherhood was more plausible. Faelindra made to raise a finger, only to feel something on the cushion she sat upon. She rose slightly, glancing at her rear to discover a strange black powder staining her chaps. She sniffed at the air like a hound. "... Is this soot?"

Wonders continued as if he'd heard nothing. Well, that's because he hadn't heard anything in the first place. "I had to snap my jaw back into place and roll my tongue up like a blind of course, but the door was thrown open after just three hours." he retold, not even noticing his overuse of the phrase "of course". In actuality he'd been found by the college's janitor at some point, who after laughing at his misfortune for a solid five or six minutes gave him a shoulder and took him off to Miss Marence, who eagerly dealt with his injuries. Of course having that happen wouldn't be particularly good for the image he strived to maintain, so he chose something a bit more "radical" and "hip" for the "mad bants". "It was her dad, the Archmage. You see, he wasn't too keen on having his lovely daughter shagging a cunning and noble Argonian fellow such as myself. I suppose the scales and my more than adequate size reminded him too much of his wife. He let me finish of course, but not before challenging me to a duel to the death like the racist pig he was."

Faelindra stood by the side of her seat, examining it curiously. Yep, that was soot. "This is soot." she reiterated necessarily, 'less you hadn't caught up yet. It wasn't hot at all, so it must've been there for an incredibly long while. "Why is there soot on my chair?"

Alas, Wonders was far too engrossed in the marvel of his own creation to even register her insignificant words. "We met up in the courtyard. Lissandra came into the crowd limping about and walking funny after what I did to her of course, what with the sheer monster she had unsheathed from its scabbard. Regardless, she watched on." after his little incident with the Aldmeri bitch and her pals, Wonders had actually returned to class with a hushed tongue. His feelings hadn't changed in the slightest of course, but there came the frightful realisation that of his six man class - including himself - five people had come to beat him up on that day. He was no mathematician, but he came to the same conclusion that anyone else would. The whispers continued each day.

"The Archmage was all furcoat and no knickers of course. Tried to catch me off guard with some cheeky ice magic, 'though his frostbite felt like his mother sighing in disappointment." he snickered at his wit, using the same line his destruction magic teacher had used on him time and time again rather than taking a moment to actually help him work out the issues he was facing and support him in overcoming them. "So I did what came natural. Summoned a Dremora Lord to slice his head off, set fire to it with a couple of firebolts here and there, booted it across the College grounds and launched it off into the stars where it probably floats to this day." Wonders hissed triumphantly. If that had ever happened in reality, he would've aimed for the students and teachers - set all of the pompous, spiteful, horrendous gits alight like a funeral pyre. That would've been one heck of a bonfire. He'd need more than a couple of marshmellows for that, maybe a full-on rotisserie with drinks and dancers?

"And so the Archmage was defeated, and the dame achieved... And the game of Daedric Hoops invented at the same time." he said in epilogue, crossing his legs and leaning back into his seat. "Of course that was enough to gain me the title of 'Archmage of Winterhold', which is why the usual barmaid frequently calls me that. One wonders why she isn't here at the moment..."

Having finished his tale, Wonders snapped back into present day just in time to have front row seats to the Bosmeri Housecarl, as she awkwardly dusted away at her bottom. He hadn't noticed it until just now. Was she slapping herself in jealously, saddened by the fact that she hadn't been in Lissandra's place? Was it some sort of strange courtship thing for Mer; a mating ritual? Satisfied for the moment with the state of her clothing, Faelindra sat back down. "... So that's how you lost your virginity?"

The Argonian nodded, almost sounding forlorn in its absence. Virginity was a nice thing to hold close - something you could flaunt in a slave trade. "They never found it again." he sighed, licking at his snout to dab at any wayward tears. It was a pity that Lissandra had beat him in such a hostile way; there was no way you could make "beat up" sound as sexy as "beat off". "Lissandra though, just..." Wonders motioned his hands over his chest, miming the shape of a rather voluptuous pair of tits. Of course this only caused Faelindra to raise an eyebrow. He needed to remember that this wasn't Stradlater before him, as manly and square-chinned as she looked. "... The things that woman could do with mead bottles, I tell you. There must've been at least four that she fit right up and opened with he-"

She loudly snapped her fingers to jog him out of his perverse fantasy, hooking her flagon with an aggressive boxing swing and chugging at the dregs of her booze. "You honestly think I believe any of this?" she said. Once she'd finished of course, 'less she choked on it. The tankard came down with a loud, dull clunk. "Absolute fiction."

Thanks for the clarification.

The story teller mirrored her to the letter, holding his empty cup by his mouth. Still hankering for more, he tipped those strange chunks onto the same knocked out Nord beside him - he really should check his pulse at some point - and gestured at the barkeep for some refills. This was going to be a long night, and he'd rather have another companion besides the wood elf before him. "Well duh." he shook his head condescendingly, "I did say that it was a story."

X

(A/N): Chapter one! Took much longer than I thought it would once I got it going :O

Suppose it's harder to write now that I'm not at school. It's easy to get lost in writing when it's all you can do in the study base, but right now I'm sitting in a bedroom surrounded by all sorts of potential distractions...

Anywho, it appears that our unlikely pair are well on the path to getting pissed off their heads! However, with the conclusion of Wonders' story of surprising depth that could allude to teenage trauma being what turned him into the conceited prat he is today, what could Faelindra have to top it? How did a tiny Bosmeri warrior like her who appeals to a very specific demographic of fetishes lose her virginity?

... Pretty sure it's been hinted at before, but we'll know for sure next time on Sonic X!