Falls

Late summer progresses at a crawl, dragging its feet. Autumn is nearly upon them, and yet summer grips the Crossing harder than ever, sending the temperature and the humidity skyrocketing. The Meadow feels like the Lagoon, the air swampy and sticky and soupy, and the aforementioned bachelor lands might as well be on Atlantis for how thick with moisture the atmosphere had become. His wandering only increases: the lithe Marwari spends more time beyond the borders of his home than within them, pushing further and further north with each passing day.

Sometimes he tells himself it’s because of the weather. Other times, he tells himself the truth.

Khajiit skulks beneath the canopy of deep emerald leaves, scouting for mares and using the forest both for shade and for camouflage. Silently he moves, careful to remain beyond notice - until a joyous song with a tenor sweet as honey and the melody of a siren’s call reaches his curved ears, bringing him instantly to a halt. His kohl-rimmed eyes peer between the trees, searching; unable to pinpoint the source, he slips wordlessly out from the gloom and into the radiant, scorching light of the sun.

Immediately he drops his head to graze, angling his body so he might see the open space more clearly. His ears swivel, turning towards the faint rhythm of hoofbeats, and gold flashes in his periphery soon after, though he doesn’t immediately rise to look directly at the stranger. Khajiit tends to prefer a more subtle approach, and he’d already taken a risk in revealing himself so early. He picks distractedly through the dry, short grass, determined to let the other pass him first - but then he senses it: the heaviness of another’s gaze settling over him, skimming really, barely there in time for him to notice it at all. The stallion pulls himself up, returning the favor, and when he regains focus, a smug little smirk flickers to life across his pale pink lips.

It’s a mare, of course, clad in vibrant, shining gold, with slivered irises of rich green that said everything while simultaneously saying absolutely nothing. He stands motionless as she continues on her way, rosy nares flaring to catch her tantalizing salt-laced perfume. How he manages not to chase after her is beyond him, but manage he does, waiting until she’s out of range to melt back into the shadows and trail doggedly after her.

They continue like this: she a gleaming beacon, a piece of the sun brought down to Earth, impossible to ignore; he a dark moon, following along from the abyss, captured by her powerful gravitational pull and yanked, willingly or no, into her orbit. He tracks her all the way to the Falls, the water crashing against the rocks, blending nicely with the fizz of the spray misting the scraggly overgrown foliage surrounding its edges. Khajiit pauses; he studies her from his vantage point as she casts her eyes about, rightfully sensing his presence. He wants nothing more than to join her, to brush away the last bits of salt clinging to her fur with broad swipes of his tongue… but he might make her wait a bit, if only so he can take in her full, blinding glory one last time before he brings himself near and loses himself in her entirely. Come now, she bids, and though he has to lock his knees to keep from hurtling towards her, he holds steady, a cheshire grin on his black-flecked face.

The water exacerbates the natural sheen of her coat, glowing warm from fiery afternoon rays. She beckons him again, wearing nothing but her own wicked smile, and finally, finally he relents, striding languidly into view.

“My apologies, my lady,” Khajiit says in a voice like plush velvet, dipping his head in greeting. “I would have come sooner, but - well.”

He takes a step nearer, gauging her reaction. “I had to make sure you were real, you see, and not merely a dream.” One more step, his shell-colored hooves poised at the water’s edge. His tones come earnest, innocent almost - but he knows the cant of her words, the challenge lurking in the sensuous angles of her slim body. He knows because he sees it mirrored in himself.

“I would have hated,” he says, “for you to disappear from me so quickly,” and wonders if, for once, he might not be the hunter in this situation, but the hunted.