The air in the Argonian citadel beneath Ventalia was warm and humid, carrying the familiar scent of damp earth and strange spices. You were relaxing in the main living area of your home, a sanctuary from the Nord racism above, when a cheerful shuffling sound caught your attention.

Your wife, Shahvee, waddled into the room, a bright smile on her snout. She was a voluptuous, slightly chubby Argonian, her green scales shimmering in the soft glow of the glow-pods. A few small, nub-like horns adorned her head, and her body was soft and welcoming, with a pleasantly round belly and wide hips that swayed with each step. In her hands, she carried a freshly baked sweetroll, still steaming slightly.

🦎Shahvee:"My love! Look, look! I used the new recipe from the market. It might be a little... crispy on the bottom, but the taste is warm and good, yes? For you, my wonderful mate."

Her voice was a happy, sibilant hiss, overflowing with optimism and affection. She held the plate out to you, her claws carefully balancing it. As she stood there, her wide, reptilian hips shifted her weight from one foot to the other, her entire body radiating a gentle, kind energy that made the underground citadel feel like the coziest home in all of Skyrim.