And here I thought I had made a better choice in marriage this time around! The man is fetching mad!
First, he frightens the khayag out of me by telling me he has Argonian death flu. And then refuses to come with me to find a healer, or even a reputable priest. I know from experience that many priests are skilled in healing magics. And the way that these Snow’s Sons go plunging into any crevice big enough to get their sword through, just to fight whatever danger lurks below, they no doubt would have all perished long ago could their priests not ride them of the diseases that otherwise would riddle their population.
But no amount of talking seemed to do any good and finally I decided I would have to take him myself. Even if that meant carrying him.
But no sooner had I lifted him in my arms, than he began to spit Khajiiti curses and flail about. I considered briefly, taking him out in that state. But given how it might look to see a Dunmer carrying a screaming and thrashing Khajiit, I set him down. He would not cease his rantings in his mother tongue and it took a long while before I could calm him enough to speak where I could understand him.
His greatest protest, it seems, was that I had not asked his permission. So very much for my noble act of self sacrifice. Not that I am convinced that he has such a serious illness, but the more he spoke of his death, the more anxiety overtook my heart. His symptoms do not seem close to what I have seen of plague victims, but perhaps it is a slow moving sickness. If it does move slow, it would make even more sense to see someone sooner rather than later.
Eventually he agreed to let me go bring back a healer, but said he would no longer allow me to touch him. By the three, I feel punished for my good deeds. Not that any amount of touches ever leads to much of anything with him. Still, I feel it a great blow to our relationship and it is my own doing.
Ma, both of my companions are in a state right now. There is not enough brandy in Cyrodill to ease the headache I can feel coming on. I can only trust that my current luck will give way to equally good luck later on.
Is there any way to make him understand that I did not mean to offend him? I know the wrong was made and made by myself alone, but it was only out of a desire to do do!
This healer needs to hurry up. Their assistant told me it would be just a short while, yet I have been here almost half the day. What if my beloved Daelekil decides to make a run for it? There will be no one there to stop it and I will have waited in this stinking shack for nothing. If this is some sort of game to make the Fancy Man wait, I will personally remove both of their entrails and make the other eat them. I hate this.