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English
Series:
Part 26 of February Ficlet Challenge 2025 , Part 5 of Boethiah's Best & Brightest
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February Ficlet Challenge 2025
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Published:
2025-02-26
Words:
487
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1/1
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10
Kudos:
7
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1
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28

🪲Water Whoopsie🥲

Summary:

♡ Lilivah and Tarhiel experience bug-based turbulence. ♡

For the February Ficlet Challenge 2025: Backseat driver / Decorate

Work Text:

“Prod the brain stem.”

“Okay.”

“No, not that brain stem, the other brain stem.”

“Like that?”

“Mmm, bit harder.”

“...It's going better now, I think.”

“Hmm. Wiggle that, uh, thing.”

“Are you sure, Tari?”

“I'm always sure, my little guar. I'm an expert strider driver.”

“Okay, here goes.”

The river strider Lilivah is driving, and Tarhiel is backseat driving, gives a cute chirrup, before flipping upside down, dumping the pair of magic elves into the cold and treacherous waters of Lake Boethiah, luckily flinging them off its back rather than coming down on top of them. 

A moment later Tarhiel and Tarhiel's iconic hat break the surface, his sumptuous, heavy robes striving all the while to drag him back under. “Lili! Help!”

Lilivah, meanwhile, has spotted a giant face lurking down in the depths of the lake. “Eeek!”

The giant bug they had recently been using as transport, continues to chirrup, even while floating on its back, long legs in the air. It soon drifts off south, into a wall of rising mist.

It's not long though, before the waterlogged wizards recall that they are high ranking Telvanni, and therefore supposed to be exceptionally skilled in the use of magic. A spell of water walking or two soon sorts them out, allowing them to continue on their way to Alt Bosara, where Master Vaerin is having a sale on exclusive home furnishings made of dreugh carapace. Now that Dagoth Ur and his brethren have been defeated, there's time to nest.

Walking on water is a nerve wracking experience, as slaughterfish, sharks, dreugh, and all sorts of nasties congregate under your feet with their hideous maws open, waiting for your spell to wear off. Lilivah, her eyes wide, attempts not to look down, her arm tightly looped through her husband's. Because he's a bit shorter than her, this makes her lean over sideways.

He, however, is concerned with more weighty matters. “By the Green, If only I knew a spell specifically to remove the smell of weed infested water from fine clothing. Vaerin is just the sort to pick it up even after washing. Just the sort.” Tarhiel waves a hand over himself and his wife, compulsively renewing a cleaning spell.

By the time, a couple hours later, that they reach their destination, they both smell like the starch used in Oblivion. 

Vaerin notices alright, and while he would stand a good chance of winning a duel against Tarhiel, he would not stand any sort of chance against the Nerevarine, and so for the sake of his ambition, and his sales report, he prudently refrains from humiliating his guests. It's a tough ask, especially when Tarhiel proceeds to ruthlessly barter over the quote unquote ‘reasonable’ price for a set of dreugh cutlery. So this is the salvation promised to Morrowind? An upstanding Dunmer must endure losing his precious crab utensils to a Bosmer wannabe and his outlander paramour?