Déjà Vu, an elder scroll series fanfic

Visions of iridescent rainbows full of colour, seen in gaseous clouds of non-solid smoke. Sounds - possibly musical - heard in the night from other worlds or realms of being - was it night? Or was it morning, or noon? I was not sure at all, and my body, reduced to hot quivering jelly, refused to care. My mind, awoken to senses beyond human understanding, opened for Daedric visions from Oblivion and beyond, had bigger things to worry about. I exhaled deep, blowing another small rainbow up to the ceiling, where it joined with the higher cloud and became whole again, and unfolded the Elder Scroll I could see within, opening my mind for its secrets and truths.

I was so fucking high right now.

Skooma was a common source of comfort for me, a way to escape my dangerous profession - what was I, again? I was pretty sure it was dangerous - or just to have visions and socialize with friends. But rare were the days I would take this much, or have this many friends hanging out with me. There was something fuzzy against me, in my arms. Something that purred, probably, or perhaps it was growling in dead languages from beyond the ken of man. Something warm, raspy and wet ran across my bare chest... as I looked around weakly, I saw others like that, lying around, or pawing each other, or hunting insects with eyes far too perceptive even for the khajiit. I chuckled weakly and remembered why I was a cat person, my tired brain somehow managing to send a signal to my finger to scratch the thing under me: it stretched and purred all the louder, maybe. Probably.

I didn't remember his name, however much I focused. I did remember that he was that one fellow down the street with a shop that sold them daedric weapons. They were like, normal steel stuff, nothing special 'bout them, but say a word, and whoops, suddenly that shit's magical and otherworldly! Like, whoa, how the fuck did he do that stuff? I don't even know, it's like... magic. Or, magicka, like, seriously. Magic or magicka? I didn't care. I mean, I was cuddling with a man, and I was pretty sure about my firm preference of ladies - human ladies - and I barely cared about that either, so why'd I care about how to pronounce something I couldn't do anywa-

"Hey man, Caius?", said a tired, slurring voice.

I snapped almost halfway back into reality, and strained myself to look to the left of me. What I saw was a pile of a whole lot of fuzzy, mewing things, and under them, if I really focused, I could see a grinning face of my bestest friend ever. He was like THE shit, he had killed a god and, yeah, that was pretty much the reason we were here right now. To celebrate with some good company and good Skooma. He was also the reincarnation of a saint that had lived thousands of years ago, and how fucking awesome was that?

"Uh-huh?", I responded nonchalantly.

"You ever experienced déjà vu?" He twirled his skooma pipe around the air while his other hand was giving bellyrubs to an affectionate khajiit. "Like, yanno, feel like you've already gone through this stuff before?"

"Dunno..." I took a long inhale from my pipe, feeling the universe center around me again and Azura whisper great secrets into my ear. I heard of the creation of Mundus, that Lorkhan was secretly alive, and the name of Mehrunes Dagon's therapist. I witnessed Nocturnal's greatest secrets, Akatosh in a hangover, and that the Ancestor Moths were just faking it for handicap moneys. I may have also cast some magic, or maybe it was just somebody nibbling my ear. Or maybe Sheogorath thought he was being funny again. That shit ain't funny!

Anyway, eventually I remembered the question and answered. "Don't remember. But maybe. I guess...? When I was younger..."

"Hey," he interrupted.

"Yeah?"

"Wanna see a neat trick?"

"Uh. Okay."

I was so fucking high right now.

"Hey man, Caius?", said a tired, slurring voice. I was almost certain I had heard him say it before.

"Uh-huh...?", I responded, warily. Seriously, maybe I was a LOT more high than I thought I was, or maybe that was just one of them crazy things. Never had a thing like that in my memory. Can't be this fuckin' high, it's probably dangerous even for me. I shook my head in a vain effort to clear my brain out of skooma fuzz, then turned to look at the Nerevarine, who was grinning like an idiot.

"Yeah, I just had one right about now." I interrupted. "It's pretty crazy shit... man, are you as high as I am?"

"Probably. Maybe more." He was still grinning. "Wanna see a neat trick?"

"Huh?" Something in my head told me this was important, that somehow this trick was bad news, but darned if I could remember anything more about it. I had taken too much skooma to remember, and it was far too hot under all this khajiit anyway. Also it was summer and all the windows were closed, to keep the fumes in. So my mind didn't really work all that well... and besides, I think Azura was still trying to tell me something. "Uh... I dunn-"

...Okay, this was just. I mean. Okay. This was, like, this was pretty much officially the worst trip ever.

There was something fuzzy against me, in my arms. Something that purred, probably, or perhaps it was growling in dead languages from beyond the ken of man. Something warm, raspy and wet ran across my bare chest... and I was pretty sure I like, almost saw that coming before it happened. I scratched him and he purred, like I also kind of knew that'd go the way it did, but then again, I had taken a pretty massive dose.

"Hey man, Caius?", said a tired, slurring voice. I was almost certain I had heard him say it before. At least once.

"What're you doing...?" I turned around to look at the cat pile and the guy under it, still smirking at me like the douche he was. "What'd you do? I feel like, I feel really weird for some reason, you talkin' about all this déjà vu stuff, and then suddenly..."

His smile disappeared, replaced by a confused frown. "Huh... man, that's some... like, what kind of weed you smokin'? Someone slipped you some weird skooma shit? Where'd you get that, can I have some of it too, like, it sounds real crazy!"

Bad fuckin' trip, I knew it. I took another dose, inhaled deep, swallowed that shit, felt it spread all over me. He kept on going, his voice disappearing somewhere into the blur: I was pretty sure he was moving, but whether he was coming to my direction or flying far, far away, I couldn't say. "Like, that, y'know, déjà vu stuff. That'd be real awesome. I'd use it to relive how I beat the snot out of Dagoth Ur. That was fun as shit, y'know that? Like, beating up a god. I'll never do anything that great again, that's for sure."

He was pretty damn close to me now. I could feel something warm going on around me as my eyes closed on their own accord, eyelids heavy like ebony. Daedric ebony. My heart beat like the heart of Lorkhan, and felt like someone whacked at it with one of them Dwemer hammers, I forgot its name. I smelled beyond the stars and probably smelled pretty bad, too. And then the whisper came, from somewhere and everywhere, to my ear yet seemingly passing all ways of human perception and striking straight into my mind.

"And I would keep telling you how much I loved you, how I always had, and each time feel the weight drop from my shoulders, over and over again until I felt like a butterfly in a hurricane."

The warmth around me increased and spread, like the warmth in the volcano at the center of this island... or world... my world. There was a volcano within me and it erupted as something warm struck against my lips, over and over again, deep and wet and heavy and the loveliest fuckin' thing I've ever felt. I wasn't sure if any of this was real, or if it was just the figmentation of my drug-addled mind, or maybe Sanguine was messing up with me this time around, or what, but damn it was awesome. My hands went upwards - without detaching from my body, this time around - and embraced the lump of flesh or whatever they felt up there, and two smaller lumps went around me and pulled me closer as well, and I think I sort of managed to kiss back too.

Someone was shoved off with a pathetic, drugged-up yowl, relieving me of the warmth and ticklishness of a patch of fur - only to be replaced by something else as I felt someone join me in the bed, kissing all the while. His - or her? - hands caressed my chest and sides, while his lips, like those of Mara herself (maybe it was her? I wouldn't have put it past it...), moved along to my cheek, and neck, and collarbone, and...

Mirages of variegated spectrums full of ethnicity, witnessed in effervescent vapors of un-liquid cloud. Noise - mayhap melodic - listened up in the dusk from alien planes or kingdoms of existing - was it dusk? Or was it dawn, or midday? I would not say I was positive in its entirety, and mine physical shell, downgraded to feverish wobbling jam, rejected the notion of giving the slightest damn. Mine psyche, stirred to consciousness above mortal comprehension, hatched for Demoniac apparitions out of Hell and below, had massiver matters to bother itself of. I expired heavily, puffing up more minimal gaudies above to the roof, wherein it united with the loftier puff and reshaped unto something new, and unraveled the Senior Parcel I could observe into, unfastening my brain for its confidentials and reliabilities.

Holy shit, there was no way I had not ever been as detached from reality as I was in this particular moment. Too damn much of skooma.

"Hey man, Nerevar?", said a tired, slurring voice. I realized it was mine.

I strained myself to look to the left of me. What I saw was a pile of a whole lot of fuzzy, mewing, familiar things, and under them, if I really focused, I could see a grinning face of my bestest friend ever. He was like THE shit, he had killed a god and, yeah, that was pretty much the reason we were here right now. To celebrate with some good company and good Skooma. He was also the reincarnation of a saint that had lived thousands of years ago, and how fucking awesome was that?

"Uh-huh?", he responded nonchalantly.

"You ever experienced déjà vu?", I asked him. He twirled his skooma pipe around the air while his other hand was giving bellyrubs to an affectionate khajiit in a slightly different way than he had done the last tim-... wait, there was no such thing as last time. Nevermind. "Like, yanno, feel like you've already gone through this stuff before?"

He seemed to consider this question, looking up to the visions we were both pretty sure skooma couldn't do. I mean, now that I thought about it, really, it pretty much just made you real quick. Right...? Anyway he thought about it for a while and then he said, "Nah."

"Okay." I helped myself for a tall inspire from my fistula, being acquainted with the wholeness summing up approximately where I was anew and Boethiah croon awesome clandestines unto my toes. I spoke of the conception of Mundane, that Nirn was actually pretty much dead, and the name of Sheogorath's psychiatrist, and through him, his mother. I certified Hermaeus Mora's smallest gossips, Zenithar in a deadly sickness, and the sharp branch of reality through my chest, no wait that was a sword. Wait what.

Suddenly there was pain, felt through all my hallucinations, and very true and very real. There was the feeling of something warm and wet spread all around my chest, from me and from the khajiit on top of me, whom the blade had also impaled. Screams were heard, as echoes, and as the sword left me, I could focus myself into reality and see more red spread around the room, as blood was spilled and limbs fell out, as each panicked shriek was silenced with a swift motion.

I felt cold. I tried to move my hand, reach for my blade, yet I could not do so... I was grievously injured, the strike having come from nowhere and giving me no time to react, and I was still high as well. As life escaped me, Nuz aan sul, fent alok, and my vision slowly faded away, I saw all around fod fin vul dovah nok the evidence of destruction and death, the smell of blood filling my nostrils, and up above, fen kos nahlot mahfaeraak ahrk ruz, the shadow of one of my closest friends, the Nerevarine, his sword red of innocent blood, an evil grin spread over his lips and eyes... why? Why did you do this to Paaz Keizaal fen kos stin nol bein Alduin jot!

Dovahkiin, Dovahkiin, I coughed blood and tried to say something, but naal ok zin los vahriin and yet the music did not stop, nor did the song go away, what did it even mean wah dein vokul mahfaeraak ahst vaal! I saw him lift his weapon above me one last time, preparing to Ahrk fin norok paal graan bring it down at me, and I readied myself for the finishing blow, for my life to be fod nust hon zindro zaan snuffed out, for Dovahkiin, fah hin kogaan mu-

...What?

My mind, awoken long since to senses beyond human understanding, concentrated most of it to the (largely) mortal shape in front of me. The hall was largely empty, and quiet, neither of us saying a word for a long time. I crossed my legs mid-air, and simply looked straight at him, whereas he instead chose to stare at my magnificent stone floor.

"You gave that Imperial quite the scare," I finally told him, carefully choosing every word. I kept a long pause to see if he would wish to say something to that: it took a good while, but eventually, indeed, he did.

"Sorry... we uh, we really got pretty high."

He was still not looking at me. I tapped my fingers against my knee as I perceived him in all five dimensions, his ashamed-looking face, and his soul, where he promised himself to never take that much skooma again in his life - like I had, a long time ago. "As I understand it," I continued, "he is currently living in the image that everything he saw was nothing but a skooma-induced hallucination."

"Weeell..." He looked up, though was still avoiding my eyes. "Technically, that's pretty much what it was, right? I mean, it was definitely skooma-induced, and it was sort of hallucination since I... yeah..."

"At least you have the decency of feeling bad about it," I said, memories of the distant past flooding to me. "Sotha-Sil did not. But on the other hand he was always a bit of a douchebag, now that I think about it."

The Nerevarine, one of the mightiest heroes alive, that had destroyed the god I could barely hold back, that had brought peace into this land and into my heart, was just sort of shifting his feet awkwardly, rubbing his fingers together, and looking at the ceiling. "Promise to not do that again?", I asked him.

"...Yes."

"Good," I nodded, and dared to smile at him a little. "I think I can actually trust in you on this: I believe your lesson was learned. And-"

I stood on the top stairs of Vivec's palace, up above most of the entire rest of the city, his grand doors shut in front of me. It was usually windy up here, but this time it was an almost entirely clear, calm weather, no stormy winds coming from the seas. I was pretty certain he would be at the very least displeased, after what I had done the evening prior to today, and perhaps the weather reflected it, or perhaps it was simply the calm before a coming sto-

...Oh.

The doors opened, and I watched straight into the face of a god. "This is how it feels," he told me. "I just felt like it would be good for you to actually feel it yourself."

A long silence befell between us, as it had befallen before, the first time we had gone through this. I turned to look at the rest of the city, to which I had a pretty good view up here. I could feel his gaze behind me.

"...Can I go now?", I finally asked.

"Yes. I do hope I will not see you here again for this."

A/C: As difficult as it might be to believe it, I am actually not high right now myself. Just sleep deprived.

I might have hoped my first Elder Scrolls fic to be something a little more dignified, but then again I also always hoped for a chance to chill and get really high with Caius Cosades. Sometimes you just can't have what you want.