FSE

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'When she awoke a short time later, she was back in S'thengir's private room. The window was glowing blue. Dawn.

"You alright?" said a voice from behind her head. She looked up and saw S'thengir standing over her. She was laying on his floor-bed, clothed in similar fashion to what he wore. She noticed the restriction around her chest then. And she noticed her hair was gone from the floor.

"What happened?"

"Hell if I know. You looked at the mirror and started screaming, then fainted I guess..."

"You dressed me?"

"Obviously. It's getting light out. The tavern doesn't open for a couple more hours yet. But I need you to tie me up before you leave."

Ra'Jirra thought about that for a minute. "You want an alibi."

"Damn right I do."

She smiled as she sat up, "I could take your money too, if you'd like!"

S'thengir took her hand and helped her up. "Thank you, no. I've hidden it away though. You did rob me, I'm just not giving you the money."

"Well, a girl can try! I need to spend a few minutes the restroom... the _public_restroom. Then I'll be ready to go."

The bartender ushered her out into the common room.

"Did you have a good time strapping up my boobs and dressing me?" she asked as she crossed to the restroom.

"Delightful. In other circumstances..."

"Yes," she agreed as she closed the door. "Other circumstances." She pulled something out of her backpack along with her gold.

In a few minutes, she had emerged again. The bartender was sitting on a chair, lengths of rope already cut. She began to tie him up.

"You into bondage, S'thengir?"

He looked at her. "Fuck you Ra'Jirra. Tie them tight. And when you're out there, don't talk till you're out of the city."

Finally, she was ready. She was about to leave when she realized something. She went back to where she'd left S'Thengir.

"Say... do you have any weapons I could take with me? Besides that mace I mean. I don't think I could use it very well. A spear would be awesome!"

He shook his head, not able to talk with the rag tied into his mouth. But then he signaled to behind the bar. She followed his gaze and found the knife. It wasn't much, but with at least a foot long blade, it was better than nothing.

"Thanks," she said, buckling the knife and it's sheath to her belt. His belt... Well, it was her's now. Then she headed to the side door. She saw her clothes in a corner. She considered taking it with her. Even if she couldn't wear it anymore, it would still bring a nice price at the right shop. But no. Her life as Ra'Jirra was over, along with the beautiful high-necked outfit. It might compensate S'thengir for his trouble. She opened the door, trying to walk like a male.

She almost made it with no problems at all, but the guard at the gate recognized S'thengir.

"Tavern closed today?" he called as she passed through. She shrugged noncommittally, but he said nothing more and then she was out of Kvatch.

The road was lightly traveled at this time of morning, and the few that she did pass paid her no mind. The sun was coming up, and by its heat, it was going to be a warm day.

It was mid-morning when she arrived at the crossroad. From here she could head west towards Anvil and the coast, or travel east towards Skingrad. She hadn't really thought this through much, she realized. She knew only that she had to leave Kvatch. But the thought of the sea beckoned her and she turned to the right towards Anvil. If things went wrong, she might be able to hop a ship out of Cyrodiil completely. She thought of Elsweyr briefly. But no, that was not her home. She had to make her own home. Somewhere.

The sun continued to beat on her and the chest wrappings were beginning to make their presence known. She looked around and saw a small copse of trees nearby that she headed towards. The shade was cooling, and she suddenly realized just how sleepy she was.

"Well," she thought to herself as she sat down behind a large tree, facing away from the road, "There's no need to look like a male anymore. Now I'm just another random khajiit. Off with this damned thing!"

She stripped off her vest and undershirt and began scrabbling at the bandage. He'd done a good job, it wasn't going to be easy!

"Could you use some help there, lass?" came a voice. gruff and far far too masculine for her comfort.

She looked quickly towards the voice. A single, but very large man stood not 5 feet away from her. She scrabbled for her knife and had it out in a flash, but he turned and patted the scabbard that held a sword. Given the scars on his grizzled face and the use the sword had obviously seen, it was pointless.

"Sorry lass," he said with a bit of a foreign accent she couldn't quite place. "This isn't your lucky day. If you're any good at throwing that thing, now would be a good time to try. Otherwise, you'd best just put it away."

She looked at the knife, then back at the highwayman. Her eyes started to water again. "Please..." she managed to squeak.

He walked over to her and sat down beside her.

"Oh now lass, I'm not so bad. I can help you get that thing off. Don't worry, I'm not a rapist. Not into cats regardless. But I think we may need to have a look at that backpack of yours..."

"Please mister, I've had a hell of a day. A really, REALLY bad day," she cried.

"I'm sure. And now you're traveling alone. Sorry lass. But that's a mistake you should have known. But look at the bright side. Believe you, me, there's a lot more than old Honest John you could run into out here. Some'd as soon kill you as ask, you know? Do you mind?" he said, indicating her backpack.

She knew what was in it, of course. She'd be lucky to keep anything. But she nodded. She really didn't have any choice.

He dumped it out unceremoniously on the ground and rummaged through the small pile. Some things he stuck in his pockets, others he left behind. He didn't leave behind her gold purse. When he was satisfied, he put the leftovers back in and sat back beside her against the tree, pouring out the coins from the purse into his hand.

"Oh!" he said, then turned to her. "Nice! How long have you been saving this up?"

"A year," she choked out.

"A year. Well, there's always next year, eh miss?"

Through tear-streaked eyes, she implored him, "The little doll. Could you please?"

"Mmm?" he said. Then he rummaged through his deep pocket and drew out an odd animal figure. "This thing?"

She nodded hopefully.

"Was going to give it to me niece honestly. But sure. I'm not a cruel man. It's just a cruel world, see?"

She nodded as he put back into the backpack. Then he turned back to her.

"Cunt or Asshole?" he asked.

She stared at him, uncomprehendingly.

"Which? Cunt or Asshole?" he asked again, enunciating more clearly.

"W... what do you mean? Are you going to rape me?" she squeaked, eyes wide with fear again now.

"Fuck no! Name's Honest John for a reason, lady. Much as you'd like it, naa. But when you've been doing this as long as I have, see, you learn some things. And one thing you learn real quick is that smart ladies always stuff some coin up their cunt or their asshole. You look like a smart lady. Wrapping those boobs up, you were pretending to be a guy. Another smart idea if you're traveling on your own. So which is it?"

"Pardon?! I don't have any..."

Suddenly his demeanor took on a truly menacing look for the first time.

"I'll have to have a look-see then, missy. Sorry, but I don't believe you. I've been honest with you, haven't I? I even put your little doll back. I'm going to ask you one more time, and if you don't tell me the truth, we're gonna have a little tussle, you and me, and you might get hurt. I haven't hurt you yet, have I? No. Do you _WANT _to get hurt lady? Do you _LIKE _to get hurt?"

She shook her head, trembling now.

"Then which is it? Cunt or Asshole?" he said very quietly.

"Asshole," she said.