Prompt: I just really want to see crack where someone distracts a Khajiit with string and they can't help themselves.
For the first time in a long time, M'rasha was exhausted and with good reason. Several days ago a large battalion of Stormcloaks attempted to conquer Whiterun in the name of Ulfric Stormcloak. But with the help of Legate Rikke and the Legion reinforcements from Solitude, the Stormcloaks were unsuccessful. M'rasha and Lydia, of course, helped with defending the city. While Lydia was positioned in one of the towers with the archers, M'rasha was out fighting in the front lines, frying the rebels with blast of electricity, blowing them back with her Thu'um or bashing them with her mace if they got too close.
The casualties Whiterun received were low but the injuries were high. After the battle, M'rasha went straight to the keep to help take care of the injured. For five days M'rasha, Farengar and Danica helped with the wounded soldiers and civilians via restoration magic and healing potions donated by Arcadia. When those ran out the Thane allowed them to use potions from her stockpile.
M'rasha eventually returned to Breezehome and collapsed in the nearest chair drained. She glanced at the cabinet that housed her potions. There hardly any left. M'rasha knew she had to restock them soon but she didn't want to.
"Lydia!" She called out to her housecarl but received no answer. She was probably still out helping around the town. That meant M'rasha would have to do inventory herself. M'rasha couldn't put it off either; her paranoia wouldn't allow it. She dragged herself to her feet and trudged over to the cabinet. She took the piece of parchment from atop the cabinet, looked it over and sighed. It would take weeks to replace the potions used. But first she had to see what she had left.
'15…16…17 potions Fortify Magicka, 6 of Stamina...' She sighed and rubbed her temples. 'I hope Arcadia and Belethor aren't low on supplies or I may have to make a trek out of town.'
Lydia entered the house carrying a bag. She glanced over to see her Thane mull over the potion cabinet. Her hair was unkempt, the product of running her fingers through it. Her eyes had rings around them and it looked like she would fall over any second. Her normally clean robes were covered in smudges and splotches and blood. A lot of blood. Lydia knew none of it belonged to M'rasha but still unnerved her.
"When's the last time you've rested," Lydia asked. M'rasha was too engrossed with the potion cabinet to respond. Shaking her head, she walked over to the Khajiit and poked her in the head. M'rasha growled and pushed the finger away.
It was clear M'rasha didn't want to be disturbed but Lydia wasn't going to take 'No' for an answer. M'rasha was in desperate need of some sleep but first the warrior had to distract the Thane. And she knew just how to get the older woman's attention.
'7 Weak Paralysis poisons, 2 potent poison… Damnit! Out of Magicka poison.' The more she scratched items off her list the more irritated she became. And it grew when she felt something land on her head and obscure her vision in her right eye. She pulled the object off her head and immediately arched an eyebrow. 'The hell?'
It was yarn.
Mumbling, she grabbed the offending piece of thread. It was small, red and soft between her fingertips. Immediately Lydia's face flashed in her head. 'Who else could it be?'She got up and turned to go confront the housecarl when the yarn was yanked out of her fingers. She looked over her shoulder to see it land on the floor near the fire pit. M'rasha rolled her eyes, "Lydia this isn't funny!"
She bent down to pick it up but the yarn darted out of reach and only for it to stop on the staircase.
'Fine then.'She placed the list down on the chair. She went over and this time stomped on the fabric.
M'rasha smiled confidently, fully expecting that the wool was under foot. Moving her foot proved the opposite. Instead the yarn had traveled up four steps.
And then something deep in her mind snapped. The string expanded, twisted and morphed. And suddenly she was staring into the red face of Nazeem.
"Look at Miss High and Mighty Khajiit," he mocked, "Wait, should I even be calling you Khajiit? You can't even get a piece of yarn."
"Shut up Nazeem," M'rasha growled.
"Why? Cause it's true. You're pathetic." M'rasha snarled and attacked. Yarn-Nazeem slithered away, up to the top of the stairs just as she landed.
"What cat can't even catch a piece of string," he taunted as she scurried up the stairs. She reached out to grab his head but again Yarn-Nazeem slipped through her grasp, causing her to crash into the table.
M'rasha was on her hands and knees, her eyes glued to Nazeem's head, looking more like a saber cat stalking its prey. She moved slowly forward, not even reacting as he slithered into her bedroom and came to rest atop the chest situated at the foot of her bed. M'rasha stopped at the entrance, still crouched low to the floor.
Yarn-Nazeem wagged his head. "Come on kitty-cat. Come! Pounce on your prey if you can!"
And so she did.
From the doorway, everything for M'rasha slowed down as she leap at the string. With claws extended and teeth bared, she was ready to sink either into Nazeem's head or neck. But as she was entering striking distance, Nazeem's head began to shrinking down until it was once again a piece of ordinary yarn. It zipped away again and M'rasha ended up smashing her mouth on the chest.
Hard.
The howl she let out could be heard by the stall owners near the inn. Tears sprung from her eyes as she fell to the ground, covering her mouth.
Suddenly she felt a pair of hands pull her so she was sitting up. Lydia looked at her with a mixed look of amusement and worry.
"Move your hands and let me see." M'rasha stubbornly shook her head.
"C'mon," the Nord grabbed her Thane's wrists and pulled them away so she could survey the damage. It wasn't as the Khajiit made it out to be. There was only a little blood and a few tiny cuts on the roof of her mouth and-
"Oh."
"Wha?"
On closer examination, one of her upper premolars had snapped in half. Lydia grimaced. She helped M'rasha off the floor and onto the bed.
"Don't move. I'll get a health potion." She got up to leave when something on the floor caught her eye. She reached over and picked up the slightly bloody other half of M'rasha tooth.
"Wha happon," M'rasha asked. Lydia quickly hid the tooth in her pocket before darting out of the room. M'rasha lied on the bed. Her mouth was stinging like she ate a bowl of fire salts. She groaned and rolled on her side.
'Stupid, stupid, stupid.' Her eyes scanned the area until they fell on side table where Lydia often lounged. On top the table was a candle, a plate, a book, and…
Yarn. A big ball of red yarn.
And Lydia was the only one in the room.
Lydia climbed the stairs carrying a bottle filled with red liquid and entered M'rasha's bedroom.
"M'rasha, I think this is the last-" The rest of her sentence died when she saw M'rasha standing in the corner, fireball in one hand, a ball of yarn in the other and a murderous, bloody scowl on her face.
Farengar rarely left Dragonsreach. And why would he. The keep doubled as his work place and where he rested his head at nights. Such were the perks of being the court wizard. But today he felt like stretching his legs and he headed down to the inn just as he hit the stairs that lead into the Plains district, Lydia was scrambling up them.
"Good morning Lydia," he greeted but Lydia rushed by and up the stairs.
She stopped at the top and blurted out, "Hi Farengar. Can'tstaygottaescapeMr'asha'sgonecrazy," before disappearing behind a stone column. Farengar darted backwards and collided into another body.
"Oh, hello Farengar." He looked up to see that he had bumped into a stoic looking M'rasha, blood running down her chin, holding a ball of yarn.
"Morning M'rasha."
"Have you seen Lydia?" Farengar pointed towards Jorrvaskr. The Thane gave him a smile.
"Thank you ever so much," she said. As she climbed the set of stairs, the wizard noticed her free hand conjure up a fireball but then stopped at the top of the stairs and turned. Farengar followed her line of vision and saw her staring at Nazeem who was looking over Anoriath's wares.
M'rasha let out a bloodcurdling scream and flung the fireball at the stall. Nazeem and Anoriath ducked behind the stall as it the floor while other stall owners ran into the inn. When the Khajiit started bolted down the stairs, the Redguard jumped out and ran towards the city's entrance screaming for the guards.
Farengar shook his head and headed back towards Dragonsreach. "And this is why I never leave the keep."