nottabear

[nottabear]

23 Kythorn, 1492

It has been a full tenday since I embraced this deathless nature, since I said yes to immortality.  Living in death has meant making many adjustments to the way I live and act, adjusting to new normals.

It is normal to not see my reflection in a mirror.  I get startled every time, then sit silently in front of the mirror tracing over glass where my face should be.  Will I ever see my own face again?

It is normal to always think of the rise and fall of my chest, to paint the illusion of breathing.  Illusion of living.  Nothing fills my lungs; they sit empty and still in my chest.  Are they even still there?  Or have they turned black and rotted away.  What is left inside me if I am now dead?

It is normal to have my cheeks doused in rosy powder everyday giving them the color that has been lost.  I cannot do it myself, Astarion or one of the servants must.  I have no reflection to do it myself.  Sometimes I take my powder on my finger and trace a face on the glass then pretend it’s mine. 

At least I still have my imagination.

It is normal to hear life pulsing through a creature’s veins.  The subtle thump thump thump from still beating hearts.  Everyone holds their own symphony, powered by the life they still hold.  The only symphony I hear in myself is one of hollow darkness and blood lust.

It is normal to imagine how every person’s blood would taste.  How their skin would feel under my lips, how easily the skin would open to allow me a meal.  Everyone would taste different.

Everybody holds a different vintage of humanity under their skin.

It is normal to watch others dance in the rays of sunlight as I watch from shadows.

I took the sun for granted when I was living. 

I used to dance in the final rays of evening, bowing goodbye to the sun when the curtains of night would fall.  I would wake in the morning when the first rays hit my face, the sun commanding me to perform another day.  With a pillow over my eyes, I would ask to push the show back five minutes.  The sun would never agree, demanding I take the stage right away.

Now I am a spectator.  I watch the days production from the shadows of the audience.  Every human walking in the spotlight of the sun is playing their own roles in this grand show.

The baker selling fresh bread at his stall has a wife at home he loves dearly.  He has two sons with her.  They live a happy life together in the upper city, with more money than anyone in the lower city has ever seen.  But he secretly loves the florist working three stalls down.

The florist three stalls down is a widow.  The papers say her husband died of an illness, but I believe it was poison.  Just a drop in his wine, he was gone, and she was free.  She tells everyone she could never remarry for her heart mourns his loss too much.  It does not.  She just wanted to be free from his control, from the pain he caused her.

A little girl skips down the street with two pigtails bouncing along with her.  She is on her way to see her best friend.  Together they will go to the park and weave flowers into crowns and talk about their small, short lives.  When the sun starts to dim its spotlight, the girls will rush home.  In the morning when the sun’s spotlight shines again demanding its actors the little girl will rise.  She will play her part.  Her role.

I am no longer granted the spotlight, the attention of it burns.  I instead watch it dance around shining on everyone else.  Everyone with something to do, somewhere to be, someone to be. 

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[nottabear]

Questions

Why do I not believe my own words? 

Why do I keep questioning my own mind? 

I know what I did.  I know what I agreed upon.  I said yes to this eternity. 

I said yes. 

Why does it feel so wrong to say I said yes? 

Why does my mouth fill with the taste of poison? 

Why does part of me scream liar? 

I am not wrong.  I know I said yes.  It cannot be lies.  I am in control of my own words, of my own mind and body. 

Why does this feeling linger still?

Stop it.

My thoughts are wondering.  Those are just feelings from transforming.  I am making things up in my mind.  Making up stories as I always do. 

You said yes to this life.  You chose this life.  You wanted this life so badly you begged for it.

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[nottabear]

22 Kythorn, 1492

With every day that passes I feel the dark shadows over my mind slowly recede.  My mind feels clearer, my movements steadier.  It has become easier to distract myself from the pain and blood lust when I am doing something.  Writing, reading, dancing, playing my violin, cleaning my room for the hundredth time, something.  Anything.  Anything to distract my mind.  I must always be doing something.  I cannot stop.  I must always keep my mind busy. 

Do not wonder.  Wondering is bad. 

Wondering equates to surrender.  Surrendering to the dark abysmal thoughts.

Astarion says I am adjusting so perfectly, just as he expected.  I will soon be able to leave my bed chambers knowing I will not harm anyone.  I will be able to explore the palace freely, spend endless hours in the library.  I am curious on how far he has gotten with the renovations.  I have stayed in my room for five six eight days now.  I really want to see the ballroom, attend my first dance.  Astarion says we will host parties every night, flood the palace with guests.  I will dance and perform for them all, dancing all night.  But first, control.  Control over the hunger, over the dark thoughts, over myself.

A whole world of opportunity and freedom will open when I can control my hunger. 

Though no control will bring the sun back. 

Nothing can bring the sun back. 

Not even a tenday and I am already weeping for the sun.  I want to feel the bright rays of the sun gently kiss my skin again.  Feel the warm embrace just one last time. 

Oh, but the suns kiss burns me now.  The warm embrace suffocates me in a pyre of smoke.

I stick my hand into rays of sunlight.  Just to remind myself.  Remind myself of the change, of the yes.  I watch the skin on my hand flake away and crumble like ash.  I watch smoke dance off my flaking skin, the smell of rotten burnt flesh filling my nostrils.  The light looks so beautiful, so pure, so bright when it shines through my hand.  I want to capture it in a jar, shake it around like a jar of fireflies when I miss the sun.

This is the price, the price of immortality.  To say goodbye to the sun forever.

This is permanent.

This is real.

This is forever.

Forever a vampire.

Forever bound to shadow.

But I chose this.  I wanted this.  I said yes to this life.

I chose this.  I wanted this.

I chose this.  I wanted.

I chose.  I want.

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[nottabear]

17 19 Kythorn, 1492

These changes exhaust me, body and mind.  I stay sequestered to my bed chamber sleeping away the days to distract from the thoughts and the pains.  Astarion says I will adjust soon enough; this is all part of the process.  A slow grueling process.  He has been caring for me so tenderly through it all.  He brings me goblets every day to quench the hunger gnawing away at me.  He holds me close in the waves of pain and blood lust being my anchor to the world around.  My protector.

My mind no longer spirals at the simple thought of blood.

But fresh blood, blood still warm and full of life.

The blood that runs through the veins of the servants that tail behind Astarion and linger in the halls.  I can hear them shuffling behind the walls, I can smell them when the doors are opened.

I dream of plunging my new teeth into one of their necks at the sight of them, by the simple smell of them.

Would it taste different from the source than from a goblet?  I imagine the taste of their skin and sweat would mix with the blood forming a new taste, a new pleasure.

To sink my fangs into someone anything.

Stop it.

Control yourself.

It is a rule I promised I will not use my pretty new teeth.  They are still so fragile; they could easily break or worse, fall out again.

Bloody pearls rolling in my hands.

You must learn to control yourself, control your thoughts.  Do not let vile dreams cross the threshold of reality. 

I will be allow able to spend my days in the beautiful library once I have control over these thoughts, these new urges.

I have endless time now to spend as I please.  I have eternity to lose myself in every book that library holds.  Eternity to write all my stories.  Perhaps I will learn a new language with all the time I have.  I could learn every language in the realms with all the time I have.  I will be the most well-read bard in all the realms and be able to tell my tales to all.

So much time now to pursue so many dreams thought impossible.

A true gift.  A gift I wanted.  A gift I asked for. 

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[nottabear]

hunger

<Previous Entry<

I lied, I betrayed my own word.  I said that I wouldn’t, that I couldn’t, but I did.

I accepted immortality. 

Astarion insist asked a final time if I would join him in eternity the other night.  I couldn’t say no, I ha said yes. 

It is the perfect opportunity after all.  The city is safe, and now he will be able to always keep me safe.  I trust him to care for me through these changes.  He has already been so caring, holding me tight in waves of agony, bringing me gold goblets of blood.

Everything about my body is changing day and night.  I feel my organs moving, bones snapping and knitting back together. My ears ring as they adjust to the new sounds.  I hear rats in the walls and whispers under the floorboards.  New, sharper, teeth have started pushing out from sore gums replacing teeth that fell out the night I changed. 

I can still see them now, old pearls of my teeth covered in blood sitting in my hands.

This is what was meant to happen.  This is okay, this is the new normal.  I will grow used to this, grow to love it.

A new hunger gnaws at my body and mind.  It leaves me paralyzed for hours on end.

Nothing sates the hunger, the thirst.  No bread or broth.  No wine or water.  All of it sits inside me for a moment before my body regurgitates anything, everything.  The pains of this hunger are like no other.  I feel claws inside of me, flaying me from the inside.  I lie with my joints locked, my body shaking, shadows push over my mind, a constant shout, a demand for the only thing that will bring me clarity – blood.  Quick fleeting moments of peace are found in the rich crimson liquid oh, but it fades so fast.  The shadows return with howling winds, the hunger returns with more demands

I need more. 

I need to feel the smooth warm liquid coat my tongue and slip down in and ever empty, ever hungry, ever craving belly.  I need to feel the warmth of another warm my frozen body. 

I need more. 

More more. 

Please.  I beg you to give me more, let me drink till my mind is forever clear.

Stop it.

Do not think of hunger.

Stop thinking of hunger.

There is no hunger.

There is no hunger.

End this hunger, please.

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[nottabear]

[nottabear]

hunger

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I lied, I betrayed my own word.  I said that I wouldn’t, that I couldn’t, but I did.

I accepted immortality. 

Astarion insist asked a final time if I would join him in eternity the other night.  I couldn’t say no, I ha said yes. 

It is the perfect opportunity after all.  The city is safe, and now he will be able to always keep me safe.  I trust him to care for me through these changes.  He has already been so caring, holding me tight in waves of agony, bringing me gold goblets of blood.

Everything about my body is changing day and night.  I feel my organs moving, bones snapping and knitting back together. My ears ring as they adjust to the new sounds.  I hear rats in the walls and whispers under the floorboards.  New, sharper, teeth have started pushing out from sore gums replacing teeth that fell out the night I changed. 

I can still see them now, old pearls of my teeth covered in blood sitting in my hands.

This is what was meant to happen.  This is okay, this is the new normal.  I will grow used to this, grow to love it.

A new hunger gnaws at my body and mind.  It leaves me paralyzed for hours on end.

Nothing sates the hunger, the thirst.  No bread or broth.  No wine or water.  All of it sits inside me for a moment before my body regurgitates anything, everything.  The pains of this hunger are like no other.  I feel claws inside of me, flaying me from the inside.  I lie with my joints locked, my body shaking, shadows push over my mind, a constant shout, a demand for the only thing that will bring me clarity – blood.  Quick fleeting moments of peace are found in the rich crimson liquid oh, but it fades so fast.  The shadows return with howling winds, the hunger returns with more demands

I need more. 

I need to feel the smooth warm liquid coat my tongue and slip down in and ever empty, ever hungry, ever craving belly.  I need to feel the warmth of another warm my frozen body. 

I need more. 

More more. 

Please.  I beg you to give me more, let me drink till my mind is forever clear.

Stop it.

Do not think of hunger.

Stop thinking of hunger.

There is no hunger.

There is no hunger.

End this hunger, please.

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[nottabear]

13 Kythorn, 1492

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Summer is approaching and the high sun today announced it to the realm.  I was once again woken up by the golden rays of the morning sun, a gentle tracing touch, and sweet honeyed words.  I would have spent the entire day in Astarion’s arms laying in the sun if I could.  He says that soon I will be able to spend eternity in his arms. 

I don’t know if I want eternity, to live till the world ends.  Even if I am with my one true love, the idea of eternity terrifies me.

Living till the world ends, till it burns.

I will come to see all my mortal friends and family die and I not age a day?  I will watch their children come to life and die while I sit unchanged?  Everything around me will wilt like flowers in the fall and I will be the never changing stone they gather around.  The loss of a loved one hurts more than a thousand daggers to the heart, a pain that is carried on for a lifetime.  A wound that is always opening no matter how much you think it is healed, no matter how much you think the scare has faded.  But to carry the pain of losing everyone you have ever known, ever loved, is a pain I cannot fathom, a pain I do not cannot carry.  A thousand cuts, a thousand wounds, always opening, scabbing over, and never healing.

Letting your mind wonder on the idea of eternity is terrifying.  It clouds my mind in shadows, pulls me to the depths of the ocean where no light, no life reaches.

What do you do with your days when you know you cannot, will never die? 

How do you spend your days knowing you will never know a last?

I do wish to be with Astarion always, for my songs to always light him through the dark life he was cursed to.  But eternity?  He seems so confident about it, that I will adjust to it seamlessly.  He even promised to make me a full vampire, not a mindless spawn pulled around on a leash. 

But then what would my family think?  They will notice the changes; I know of it!  How would I hide new red eyes from them?  How would I explain the pallid skin when they have known me for being golden?  They would think I am deathly ill; insist I move back home with them.  They would all be so worried!    

Maybe I can blame it on a spell mishap?  I used the wrong powder in a color spray spell, and it bleached my skin…a lot.  But what about the eyes?  Would they believe two spell mishaps?  I doubt it, they stopped believing my little lies years ago.  My mother would be so hurt too if I never took a bite of her cooking again!  How long would I be able to play off an upset stomach?  No no no.  None of that would work.  They know better now, they would ask many more questions till I am forced to tell them what I became, what Astarion is.  They would send a mob after Astarion, set the palace ablaze if they found out. 

No, I cannot.  I will not become an immortal being, I will not become a creature of the night.  I am a being too loved by the sun to sit in shadow for eternity.  I will not let these questions; these worries cloud my mind any longer.  I had a beautiful day exploring the upper city and I do not want to forget any of it. 

Eternity is only meant for the written words and stories of ones life.

The upper city feels like walking into a dream when all you have known is the lower city.  The never-ending stench and fog that covers the lower city does not reach up here.  I feel I can get a full lungful of fresh air without choking on the smog.  It reminds me of being in the wilds and our journey.  Although the air in the wilds felt laced with magic that radiated from untouched trees and undisturbed streams, the upper city is a close second to that magic.  Every street we went down, every corner we turned I was greeted with a beautiful view.  I wish I could paint so I could capture all these views and keep them forever.  Astarion told me in the night the streets are illuminated with a magical glow from streetlamps.  The safety of upper city folks must be really taken seriously to deal with the maintenance.  The most streetlight you get in the lower city is the glow from homes and the moon, maybe a stray torch or lantern on the odd street corner.

The main street of the lower city was lined with venders, their stalls all decorated with flowers and bright fabrics.  I wanted to stop at every one of them, but Astarion pulled me along and said I can stop and shop at every stall another day.  Today there was so much he wanted to show me there was no time for leisure shopping.  Maybe I can take my brother to the upper city while the weather is nice, and we can stop at every stall then.  We used to fantasize about visiting the upper city when we were younger running errands for our parents.  We would make up stories on how the rich lived.  I cannot wait to tell him he was right, that they do have magic streetlamps in the upper city.  Though he had predicted they had trapped tiny fire dragons in glass for the streetlamps, magic glowing orbs of light makes a lot more sense than trapped baby dragons.

The latter part of the day was spent touring the palace.  It is beautiful and much larger than the few halls and rooms I had seen a tenday ago.  Astarion took me down every hall, into every room, to every floor.

The back entrance of the manor we had used a tenday ago was grand and elaborate already but not as extravagant as the main entrance.  Tall gates claw at the sky surrounding the property enclosing a beautiful garden.  Bushes of red roses hug the trees and palace walls.  Large trees freckle the yard, offering patches of cool shade.  I can just imagine the time I will spend out in the garden laying in the lush grass in the shade of tress getting lost in a book. 

There is a large grand entry room that Astarion said used to house a lot of outdated art that will soon be replaced with new more elegant art of his taste.  He even promised to get a portrait done with the two of us and hang it in front of the entrance.  A portrait of the Lord and Lady of the house to greet every guest.  He seems to enjoy the title, saying it with a smirk smile.  It is becoming hard to read him at times, if he’s happy and content in the life he has made for himself, plotting for more, or regretting everything.  I do not know where I stand.  I like to believe it was the right decision, that what we did does not burn itself into my soul.  This is right.  It was the right decision, the only choice.

The library was even more exquisite than I had imagined!  Three stories of walls and shelves lined with books dating back all the way to the thirteenth century.  A large stain glass window spans all three floors painting the room hues of red light.  Astarion says he plans to get a desk for this room along with many comfortable chairs and couches.  The perfect work room of my dreams.  He listened to my thoughtless rambles of my dreams during the long walks…  I always thought he had zoned me out like everyone else did, I did talk a lot, but the way he described every detail and furnishing of the room I think he was listening. 

Our love will be sung by bards and read about all around Faerun. 

A large kitchen meets with a grand dining room leading to the ballroom that is currently closed off for renovations.  Astarion promised that as soon as the ballroom renovations are done, we will host a ball for all the upper city folk, even promised I can invite my family.  He said there will be a small stage for musicians to perform on.  Of course, I will be joining the musicians from time to time, but I am most excited to dance.  I will have to learn how they dance in the upper city, Wyll told me it is much more elegant and slower paced than what I picked up in the lower city.

I am so thrilled to cook in the large kitchen!  I can make all the recipes I learned from my mother and add my own spin to them.  Cooking on the road with Gale was not the most pleasant of times.  Arguing about how we would be able to make anything out of the ingredients we found on the road.  Fighting over a single pot over the campfire.  I will never have to worry about any of that now with such a large pantry and kitchen.  I was told not to worry about cooking, that we will have people for that.  That does not mean I will not take the kitchen over from time to time to make a dish.  I must cook for Gale and Shadowheart when they come to visit.  Then Gale will have to admit I have been the best cook all along and it was the fault of the campfire dinner was burnt every night.

This palace feels like a never-ending maze that I will forever get lost in.  Many rooms have been emptied out of their old furnishings already, prepped for the renovations Astarion invasions.  I have my very own room that has already been furnished.  The room alone is as big as my family’s tavern!  The bed is as plush a cloud with yellow silk sheets.  My favorite color.  Long gone are the days of sharing a room with my brother or sleeping in the dirt.  There’s a large wardrobe waiting to be filled with elegant handmade dresses.  Astarion told me he already hired a seamstress to come by tomorrow.  I have never had a custom-made garment and soon I will have more than I know what to do with!

Good night my journal, I cannot wait to fill you with more stories and adventures of my new blissful life every night.

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[nottabear]

Making a series of prints for a con in December, starting with Astarion!

[nottabear]

12 Kythorn, 1492

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Much of the lower city is in ruins but everyone I have seen is in high spirits ready to rebuild a better city, Astarion especially it almost took me by surprise.  He seems so passionate about building his new life and says he wants me by his side for all of it.  I have never seen him so happy, so hopeful for the future. 

Today he woke me up by gently tracing over my body, a light tickling touch.  He whispered sweet honied words into my ear as we laid together in the morning sun.  It’s been so long since I slept in, been woken up by the warm golden rays of the morning sun.  There is no other feeling to rival waking up safe and secured in your lovers’ arms with the warmth of the sun embracing you both.  The love we share is a knot of threads bound so close together, whichever way you pull the knot just becomes tighter.  Souls forever entwined. 

I spent the morning dawn bidding farewell to Shadowheart and Gale as they prepared to hit the road.  I will miss them gravely.  They both have promised to come visit for Highharvestide so I may show them the proper way to celebrate the coming of autumn.  Can you believe it, Sharns never celebrated the change of seasons?  And Gale, having locked himself in a town for so long, has forgotten how to truly celebrate the seasons change.  I must set that right and show him all that my family does for Highharvestide.  I fear I forgot to ask them both their accounts of the final fight.  I will just have to ask them when they come the days before Highharvestide.  I will hopefully have the rest of the adventures written out and finalized by then.  Maybe I will even be able to share some chapters with them.

I spent the rest of day light with my family, helping mother clean up the tavern and house while my brother and father worked on repairs.  A few upper city folks stopped by offering to loan the funds for repairs and labor, but my father denied them all stating he would rather the tavern fall to ruin than ever fall into the hands of the noble.  Though I know many clients are eager for the tavern to reopen, to get a serving of the best Baldurian seafood stew from my mother. 

Later in the day my mother and I made some meals for the refugees and families displaced after the attack.  We talked a lot during then, our words flowing free in the warm kitchen air as they did before.  My mother seems to be in much better spirits knowing I am no longer running around the city chasing shape changers and crazed cultist.  My brother told me she didn’t rise for three days after the first attack in spring.  My father pleaded with her every hour on the third day, for his heart could not stand a world without her and if she were to perish in the bed they lay in every night then he would never be able to sleep again knowing her soul was woven into the fabric of the sheets he lay on.  After that it was so difficult for her to return to work, pretending like her daughter wasn’t missing or most likely dead or worse turned into a purple monster of tentacles.  She told me every time she rang the server bell, she expected to see my face as bright as the sun with eyes of honey, but it was only ever my father or brother a somber look following both as dishes went out in silence.  Meals were never accompanied by a song, no one danced on the bar top.  Some of my friends came by while I was gone to help my family and to perform for patrons in my absence, but my mother said it was never the same.  She said the tavern lacked color, life, with me gone.  I wish I could stay at the tavern now, continue to light the place as I used to, but I cannot.

I want to be a writer, an author.  With my words pressed to paper, thread binding my stories together, a cover with my name on it.  A place in the bookshops just for me.  I cannot reach that dream by writing at the bar counter, protecting my journals from spilled drinks and stew.  I need some place quiet, someplace private, someplace my own.  Astarion said I can use one of the many rooms in the palace as an office, a room of my own.  I have never had my own room, let alone my own office.  I do plan on visiting the tavern often, just its time I live and sleep under a new roof.  Spread my branches, reach for my dreams as Haslin says.

I must have lost track of time with my family for Astarion came to pick me up as the sun was setting.  He had expressed this morning that he wanted me to meet him at the palace, but I told him I would be going to see my family.  He was not too pleased with me he expressed; says I disobeyed his direct order.  The world nearly ended the day before and I wished to spend today with my family.  I see nothing wrong with that.  I told him he was overreacting, that my family will always come first.  He said if I am to be his consort wife, I must listen to him.  It feels so silly to me he is reacting this way over a single day apart.  My family also says they love him dearly.  He could have spent some of the day with us enjoying the newfound freedom he babbles on about.  He can walk in the sun now and enjoy actual food.  Luxuries taken for granted he once said.  My mother would have loved to cook for him too, she had been so upset when he was unable to eat her cooking when they first met.  An upset stomach we said, how silly. 

Astarion continues to pout in bed as I write but I will join him at the palace tomorrow for the grand tour he is so eager to give me.  He says there is a grand library with so many books I could be reading for a lifetime.  The perfect room for me to work on my book.  I can simply imagine the days I will spend lost in a book in that room warmed by the heat of the fire.  I cannot wait to see it tomorrow.

Good night, my journal.

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[nottabear]

Maybe I am just really fucking gay because male Gorthash is a toad but her I would simp for.

Gortash in the female version

[nottabear]

back to the shadows 🌑

inspired by the storm by pierre auguste cot, shri’iia and astarion running away from the sun bc he’s a vampire and she has sunlight sensitivity.

please zoom in to see the details! 🥹🫶

[nottabear]

Diary of a Dark Consort

Summary: In an old manor you find an old crumbling journal. The entries within are written by some long gone nobleman's consort you can only assume by the delicate hand writing. The first entry starts over four centuries ago. The date is one you can remember, it was a big day for Baldurs Gate. The day a group of adventurers defeated a Nether brain and saved the city. It seems one of those adventurers kept a of record of their life after the great fight.

11 Krythorn, 1492

It is a big day for Baldur’s Gate and the entirety of Farun.  My friends and I have defeated the Netherbrain and with it stopped the Dead Three from bringing the realm to ruin. 

My hands shake with excitement as I write, my words a sloppy mess in my new journal.  I cannot fathom how I am even alive right now!  I took on beasts and monsters the mind could never imagine over the past moons.  All that remains of said monsters are guts and blood staining my boots and gloves.

I remember so little from the final fight against the brain.  I always felt Astarion watching over me the though, ensuring no harm came to me.  I played the somber tune of mortal ends as I watched him dance through bodies turning our enemies to fragments of the past. 

I wish I could remember more of the final fight.  I wanted to include the final battle in what will be my first published work; The very impossibly true adventures of Morgana Salvar I think I will title it.  The story of how a group of random adventures, survivors, took down a cult orchestrated by the dead three.  A best seller in all of Baldurs Gate I already know it.

Perhaps I can ask all the friends I made on this journey for their perspective of the final battle tomorrow.  It would be a wonderful addition to the book to have so many perspectives of the final fight in it.  I hope a few of them stay in Baldurs Gate long enough for me to see them again.  Lae’zel, Karlach, and Wyll have already left this plane.  Can you send letters to other planes?  I know I could use a spell, but they are so limited.  How do you even address a letter to the hells?  Do they have a postal service in the Astral Plane?  Shadowheart had mentioned wanting to continue to travel, explore the world outside the cloister.  I cannot wait to hear about all the places she visits.  I hope she writes.  I know Gale was eager to return to his tower in Waterdeep and Halsin will be returning to the wilds soon enough.  I do not blame Halsin for being so eager to leave the city.  I found so much beauty on this journey I had never found in the city.

Swimming in a serene lake bathed in moonlight. 

The tickle of tall grass on exposed skin. 

A lungful of fresh air. 

The taste of a freshly picked fruit.

I could go on for ages listing the beauties of nature I discovered, but not tonight. 

I must keep this entry short.  My fingers feel so tired as I hold this quill.  I must have been gripping my rapier with a death grip the entire day for the way they cramp.  All I crave is the comfort of a bed and the embrace of my love.  The Absolute has fallen and just like today, tomorrow will be a big day.  While my family survived the tavern, and home suffered a lot of damage.  Tomorrow I will go offer them aid in the repairs.  Tonight, I will sleep peacefully for the first time in many many moons. 

Life is bliss for once my journal.

>Next Entry>

Note: Hello hello! Diary of a Dark Consort is something I first posted on AO3 starting in March. Since then I have finished the story and am now working on final edits. As I finalize chapters I will post them here, on Tumblr. If you would like to read all the entries before edits you can see them here.

[nottabear]

[nottabear]

[nottabear]

9 People You Want to Know Better! Thanks to @astarionfreak and @selemchant for the tag!!

Tagging (I'm not tagging 9 people that's a lot of work) (no pressure!): @elemit @mellybaggins @little-bhaalbabe

Three ships: Astarion x Durge, Astarion x Shadowheart, Durge x Gortash

First ship: Jack Frost and Rapunzel

Last song: Starvation by AURORA

Last movie: Midsommar (my favorite)

Currently reading: The Familiar by Leigh Bardugo and Babel by R.F. Kuang

Currently watching: my cat who is giving the evil eyes

Currently eating: mint bubble gum

Currently craving: soft pretzel

[nottabear]

HEIR OF VENGEANCE GIMME

“We have a library.  All this time?  I could have been reading instead of pacing?” I mutter to myself. 

Years of solitude makes you start talking to yourself just so you don’t feel completely alone.  To feel like someone is listening, to feel like someone cares.  Even if is just me.

The drop from the attic into the library is a steep one, there’s a conveniently placed chair right under the hole.  Daggling myself from the hole I can just barely place my feet on the back of the chair.  Steading my footing on the chair back I try to gracefully slip out of the hole just from the chair to tumble backward sending me down to the ground with it.  The air is shoved out of my lungs as I land on the ground.  I lay on the floor for a moment before gathering my thoughts and standing back up.

The library is huge.  There’s rows and rows of books lining every wall.  Peering over the banister at the center of the room I can tell I am on the third and last floor.  Across from the banister a large stained-glass window spanning all three floors’ paints splashes of light all around the room.  It’s a large intracity made stained glass window depicting a starey night.

“Oh finally-“ I start to say before my thought is interrupted by flapping wings.  A white bat flies down from the ceiling before disappearing.

Kind of a long snippet but consider it a preview of what is to follow Diary of a Dark Consort