#˗ˏˋ 𝐉𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 �� answered .

[gloomedhands]

Words fall short from the ranger. Ashen brows furrowed deeply as he's met with a quip from the elf's tongue. Not surprising, not usual; but it does rub the elder the wrong way in that moment. Forcing a scoff from him as the thought is waved off physically. Clearly it wasn't important. Best it be dropped. Broad shoulders shrug, tone seeping with annoyance, "Oh, never mind."

@thepalelfe ❝ what do you mean ‘never mind’? ❞

But, ah, that's when it suddenly mattered most. Nothing could drive one more mad then being denied answers or context on varying matters. Mismatched hues linger on the vampire a moment. Holding his tongue seconds longer than he should have. Just to nudge his companion a bit further. He pressed again. And there was no holding back his sarcasm. Something to be rivaled against Astarion's own.

"What the hells do you think I mean? Never mind--- never mind, the act of simply letting go of my prior thoughts. Perishing them, really. Because I can't be bothered to tell you anymore. Perhaps if you had allowed me to speak---" there's the pause for dramatics, faux surprise taking his features, "You wouldn't be left on the edge of your seat!"

"Move on, Astarion. The time has passed, opportunities missed, thoughts changed."

[oapostle]

He's heard the gentle steps not far off behind him. It would have been easy to not catch by untrained ears. From the grinding of dirt beneath his boots and the heavy strides of his horse slowly keeping pace beside the hunter. He's subtle about the manner he scans his surroundings. Catching her out of the corner of his good eye. He doesn’t call the woman out, not right away, in the very least. Almost curious to see how far she’d go. Quietly following behind him. It begged to question what would possess a young woman to follow a worse for wear looking man like himself.

Finally he stops. A soft sigh leaves him as the heels of his boots dig into the damp dirt when he turns. “Come on out.” Giles announced sternly, head tilted skyward as he watched for the young woman in the foliage along the dirt road, “Ain’t sneaky enough to keep followin’ me. I know you’re there.”

And he suspects she isn’t the robbing type. Because she had plenty of ample opportunities to do so for some time now. Isolated on a long, lonely stretch of road. Growing darker and darker as the sun started to set and the trees grew thicker. Blocking out the light and casting only long shadows. Or maybe she had cold feet. First time stick up in a well than welcoming place. But he doesn’t find himself all too concerned either way. Though, the hunter does hold some for the young woman. “I can’t imagine why you’d wanna be trailin’ a fella like me, miss— you lost? Need help or somethin’?”

@odett3 sender  is  caught  following  receiver .

[gloomedhands]

@stormsiris ❝ Are you on a journey of self-discovery? ❞

Dakara was not so put off by the voice intruding upon his silence than he was annoyed. Light pale orb peeking out from behind a heavy lid as he glanced over at the half-elf. Either the ranger had now settled far enough away from a possible crowd or the other went out of their way to approach him. A scowl threatening to crawl across his aged features, though he bites it back. Simply closing his eye once more and exhaling slowly through his nostrils.

"Are you familiar with the practice of minding your own damned business?" He quipped back in a similar manner, a tight smile given with effort. Dakara stood again, dusting himself off out of habit as he faced the younger man. “You should try it sometime. Save a poor stranger a throbbing headache and you a waste of breath.”

With a curl of his lip, flashing teeth in a wolfish sneer, Dakara waves the other off. Curtly at that. “Now sod off. There are plenty of potential victims for you to yammer with your sarcasm too.”

[gloomedhands]

@dreadspvwn ❝ this village is full of idiots. ❞

There was a silent hum of agreement. Pale hues lingering about the gossiping persons that were to… judge them, perhaps? Not that it would matter much at the end of the day. Between the two of them they surely had the means of talking the people of the village down before they made any hilariously brash actions. Yet, then again, with the lack of common sense that wafted off this crowd it might be a pointless brawl. One could only hope the entire village didn’t try getting involved. That’d be a waste of precious time and energy. And they had more dire matters to attend to still. 

"And so was the last one and so will the next one we come across." The ranger stated, matter of factly in tone. Stupidity was not something easily avoided. An exaggerated sigh slips past parted lips, "Idiocracy reigns anywhere you go, where there’s one fool, you will find more. Apples don’t fall far from the tree— or whatever they say. It’s just a shame that the head of this lot is a real prat just like the men under him. Place is ran by a load of jesters. I wonder how this village is still standing, they'd be deep in shit if they had enemies.” 

[gloomedhands]

Raheta was indeed a beauty to behold. A force that best not be reckoned with. Though, the ranger always did enjoy a good storm. A challenge. Perhaps he had gotten lucky, somehow his charms had won him some favors in their presence, or they were both simply in dire need of relief that they sought from one another.

Calloused hands held firm at the sorcerer's waist, tab of fingers idly smoothing over the golden scales that donned their flesh, and gripping at the soft flesh of their backside and thighs. Skilled tongue busy between their thighs as they sat mounted over the drow’s mouth, fingers carding through ashen locks of hair, tugging at the roots to encourage him further. Pale hues heavily hooded as they peered up at Raheta from here he lay trapped beneath her. A sight to behold truly. Songs of pleasure they sang so sweetly were blessings to his ears as he dragged his tongue teasingly over the slit of their cunt. Laving in the taste of the sorcerer's arousal as he delved ever deeper.

The muscles of his jaw were sure to be tight and aching the following morning, but that did not sway his efforts. Not in the least. Only focused on the ecstasy of freeform from a long, exhausting day. Before the dawn would break and whisk them away once again.

@gildedthrns ❛ i can’t wait to find out what else you can do . ❜

Dakara turned away with a sharp gasp. Breath hot and heavy against his companions' flesh. A mess of them left the flesh slick and moist pon his chin. The ranger chuckled huskily at Raheta’s words. Palms venturing further up their figure, where golden scales littered her skin, carefully mapping out the dips and curves, taking them into memory. Teeth sink playfully into tender thighs, no blood to be drawn, but a bruise to be left— treated with scattered kisses as he hummed in brief content. Sights falling upon her own mismatched gaze, baring his teeth in a wolfish smile, “Nor can I… Nor can I.”  

“You’re ever sweet upon my tongue, but I am ever so curious how you’ll fair beneath me. Do you think I could make you sing louder, Raheta?” The ranger pushed himself upward then, causing the sorcerer to ball back into his lap roughly, hands strong at waist hips to steady them. Dakara leaned in to catch their lips in a deep kiss. Uncaring of the mess it was likely to leave behind. Giving them a taste of herself. “Night’s still young… shall we make good use of it yet? I think I'd like to explore a little more of you...”

[gloomedhands]

The two of them would best be described as a bud slow to blossom. Yet, it was a wait well worth, for the bloom between them was vibrant, made up of something special and meaningful. Dammon wasn't like the rest of his companions. The ranger can't say he was much like anyone he’s met in some time. True of heart, level tempered, strong willed and armed with compassion. The blacksmith was a far better man than himself. In every sense of the word. Yet, he found himself drawn back and back again. Throughout their brutal and unforgiving journey— Dammon was a beacon of normalcy.

One that the drow looked to every step of the way. Back in the grove, in the heart of the cursed lands, and in the city. Even after the battle that all but brought Baldur’s Gate to its knees, the ranger only wanted to see that the younger was still alive and well. It all seemed so long ago now— and they’ve only continued to grow closer. Delving into unexplored depths, hand in uncertain hand.

And that’s just where they were now. Trust and vulnerability put to it’s ultimate test as they held one another, naked bodies flush together as lips tenderly rove in a busy kiss. Not too starved, not too soft. A perfect medium. Calloused hands roamed freely over his lover’s figure, fingertips pressing into the ridges along Dammon’s flesh, down the grooves of his form. Gentle and curious, exploring the unknown of his body. Eager to learn and study what made him sing. Teasing the base of his tail as palms ventured by. The teifling’s thighs only grew damper as taunting touches fell lower, gliding easily between warm folds, slick with anticipation and excitement. Just as his own arousal ached and twitched with eager intent and want. Truly this had been a long, long time coming.

@agarwaen ❛  i  need  you .  ❜

"You’ll have me, love." Dakara missed not a beat in reply, pulling his lover in closer to his chest, easy as he laid him down upon his back. Mismatched hues studying the other’s features. Little details that would be cherished in this moment. Pad of thumb brushed over Dammon’s cheek as he leaned in to take the other’s lips in another kiss. Slow and steady as he moved himself between the teifling’s thoughts, the hard head of his cock pressing against his lover’s entrance. He waits, pulling back to lock their gazes, pale against a blue hue. Ever careful did hips lean forward, gentle as he guided his length into the wet heat that clenched instinctively around him. Pulling a low moan from the drow as his head dipped down to nip at blushing flesh, smiling against him, "Gods, you’re everything I imagined, and so much more."

[gloomedhands]

@betraal ❛  sneaky .

He was clad in form fitting attire, black leather that clung to his figure, bronze trimmed silk and golden jewels that hug heavy from his ears. Catching the firelight every which way he went around the crowd he maneuvered. The ranger was here on the matters of a contract. A party the least of his concerns over the man he's been eyeing the moment he slipped in. A blade, unwelcomed, carefully tucked away in his garbs.

There was every intention of blood being spilt in the dark of a lonely corner. Set on sleeking away like the snake he was in this grass field of busy bodies. Yet, there laid a heavy hand upon his shoulder and a familiar face that softened his fierce expression. Daemos. And they looked as grand as one of royalty. Such a sight the gloomed stalker was not used too ( but did not mind ) . A dangerous distraction for a man set on murder. Dakara tried his might to keep a clear head in the other's unexpected company. Though hands could not. Lingering and familiar touches easily became his master of poor judgment. And he found himself being led off by the sorcerer. Following him blindly and excitedly as his anticipation rose. Heart thundering within his chest, threatening to break from it's skeletal cage.

The moment doors closed and the dim light of a dying candle was snuffed, the ranger laid claim to his lover for the night. Hands upon the broad, firm form as he exhausted himself to catch the other's lips in a kiss of not but teeth, bodies pressed flush together, revealing their unmistakable arousal. Confidently Dakara led Daemos back blindly before they met with a table. One that felt sturdy enough for their passion. He pushed against his lover's chest, commanding they lie back as dexterous hands worked at his pant strings. Little time wasted to tug them down, exposing two familiar heads. Tauntingly fingertips ran through the slick folds of his cunt and up the length of his cocks. Tapping at his tips playfully. "You compel me, Dae." Dakara huskily confessed, dipping his head down as he laid over the other, pressing a kiss against his companion's mouth, "I fear I could never deny you."

Another firm kiss and fingers wrap carefully around one of the other's eager lengths. "That makes you dangerous." Teeth snag the other's lip as he pulled away. A toothy smile taking his lustful features. Tab of thumb run over Daemos' plum, redden lip. "Tell me... what would you have me do to you? All you need is say it."

[gloomedhands]

@bladewarde " Sit down before you fall down. "

The ranger took a shaken step away from the woman who aided him in an uneven brawl. Stabbing his blade downward into the dirt so that he might use it to steady himself upright. He'd been nearly bested. Yet, still his head rested upon his shoulders, even if heavily, it still rose high. Let him have this moment of triumph! Rest will come in a moment after he's kicked the soil up in his foe's direction. Not a lick of chivalry nor respect to be found. "So coddling. I’m fine."

Pale hues turned to meet her. Lingering, studying the woman a moment before he offers a crooked smirk. Finally Dakara lowers himself to the ground. Only after making his stand of victory. “I give my thanks,” even if it tackles his ego and pride, “I suppose you want some form of payment too? Can offer a pretty lump of gold for you after I hear my savior’s title, dame.”

[gloomedhands]

It was a foreign scene laid out before him. One he never expected to come across--- not with the wizard in the center stage before a fallen enemy. A little too close to camp for comfort. Alexius appeared to be frozen in place. Aside from the small tremor of his hands. The shock was taking its course. "Alexius--" he started, pausing at the hesitant words that managed to leave the other's lips. Regret was seeping in every word. Something they unfortunately couldn't make room for. Not out here.

@starlyht ft. Alexius " i. . . i didn't mean to. . . "

"Look at me." Gentleness did not carry in his words, two digits firmly pushing the other's chin up as he stepped in front of him, obscuring the view of the body. Nothing about the drow's expression was soft. It was stern. Demanding that the young wizard would listen. "You did what you had too. Do not mourn for someone who wouldn't express the same level of guilt if you were in its place.” Dakara hissed, turning the smaller man in the opposite direction, “Go back to camp. Clean up. I’ll follow shortly.”

[gloomedhands]

@agarwaen ❝ a sword wields no strength unless the hand that holds it has courage. ❞ ft. wyll

The ranger stilled for a moment at the other's words, pale hues in black pools eyeing down the length of his shimmering blade, the tip just nicking the woven cloth of the dummy. Such words were very much something the Blade of the Frontiers would claim and believe. He pulls back, with ease the sword is handled and balanced before it's rested groundward. Limp wrists settling at the guards.

"A different school of thought, perhaps." Dakara states, regarding the other with a glance, "I wasn't taught to wield a blade with courage, yet I can still slice down my enemies from afar and up-close. I was trained to use the arsenal voraciously. If you didn't win--- you were a waste and a poor jest at your parents bloodline. House names are oh so important after all. Life in the Underdark is unforgiving. Chivalry gives you little advantage on the battlefield, Wyll, at least not in my experience.”  And quite the experience he had to compare, indeed. Such views had changed and shifted as time went on. Chipping away at the manner he was raised and sculpting himself into a vision of his own. Though, it will likely never be complete.

Lips pursed a beat, ashen brow arching up as a smirk curls over his features. Dakara fixes his posture as he faces the young man. “But… what say you use your courage against my raw grit in a little duel, sea'an? Whoever bests the other… gets bragging rights. And a decent sum of gold, maybe? Enough to get you a new shirt that doesn't expose your midriff at the very least.”

[oapostle]

After so many years under his belt and living for the hunt, one would think he’d come back nearly unscathed, but even professionals make mistakes. And Giles certainly made many. And many more he will likely make. People never stop learning ( as long as they weren’t ignorant or unwilling to learn ) . Though, sometimes those past lessons don’t stick. Or they get lost in a muddle of his own mind. He did have himself an awfully busy head. Juggling his own thoughts and sometimes the thoughts of others, those among the living and those among the dead. And sometimes of those which have never taken a physical form. 

@vrohiir "You’d best not touch the cuts too much."

Even with a turned back, every move he made could be seen, or his partner merely knew the stubborn hunter all too well. Dirtied fingers ceasing inches over the still exposed lacerations over his ribs. It hurt like hell, the blood that spilled from the wounds slowly started to dry and cake onto his flesh ( cracked like the tiny details of a map of the county ), but that morbid part of him was curious if he could spot the BONES of his cage. Finger curls into a fist as it rests ‘pon his knee. A small huff of annoyance escaped Giles as he spoke, “I weren’t.”

“You ain’t even lookin’ at me.” He grumbles, sights shifting from the back of Rathie’s head and back down to his still exposed wound. Waiting upon his love to finish cleaning it. Lower his risk of it catching an infection. Getting sick out here would be akin to a death wish. Illness was as fierce as a beast to control and they weren’t all that close to many towns. Much less ones with doctors. “Keep piddlin’ about over there I might end up bleedin’ out, darlin’. It’d be a real waste.”

[gloomedhands]

Gortash was always such a delight in dealings. Earning a call from the man left a pep in his step. Enver wasn’t like the other nobles the hired blade served. As clean as hands looked and well kept as he presented himself, they were still worn, just like the collection of scars on his face. He looked of wealth that was well earned, not fed from a pretty unscathed palm. Couldn’t fail to mention he was oh so generous with the weight of gold he left in deep, greedy pockets. Even when Dakara started demanding more than he knew wasn’t earned. And Enver allowed it.

The ranger’s tongue was sweet and trained, but the younger one knew. He could very well sense that his folly did not worm itself further than earshot. It all only added to Gortash’s unique charm that kept Dakara close. Easily drawing him in again and again.

Little was the space between them. Toe to toe, one sigh too heavy and it’d be felt across a cheek. Something had started to waver between them. Dakara, a bold force that threatened to break through the cracks of Enver’s walls. Bring it crumbling down in a pile of rubble and riches.

@banedicti ❛  you  know  what  i’m  waiting  for .  ❜

Oh, but he did. Though he shant admit. Nor shall he give way.

"So, am I now expected to detect your very thoughts and desires? We’ve worked together for some time, Enver, yes, but… mind reading? Glad you assume me ever so talented.” A beat passes, carefully he shifts closer, “Do you lack the will to tell me what you want all of a sudden?" The ranger quips, lips curling into a familiar smirk, one that tells of nothing good to come. Something smart and intrepid was on the cusps of falling thoughtlessly from his tongue. A dance he knew step for step. His partner's rhythm, whether skilled or clumsy footwork, did not hinder his own performance. Leaving him to move freely across the open floor of the ballroom. And perhaps there was a small show to put on."You usually adore telling me what you want. It's what makes our... arrangements so appreciated."

"Oh well. Let's see, shall we..." lips pursed, mismatched eyes narrowing, first his index rose skyward ( one by one the next rose ), "You've already bought my loyalties, you have my list of services laid out, and even my wonderfully kept company. On occasion. Though you want more."

Steady were the feet that carried him closer to the man. One foot after the other as he all but stalked about him. Like an animal stalking its prey. He must be careful for he was not the only hunter here. Words dip low into a husk whisper, spoken dangerously close against the other’s ear, “Perhaps, you yearn to know what my flesh would feel like against yours… eager to know how I might taste on your tongue… but, I suppose we cannot be for certain. We shall wait a while longer.”

“Unless you speak. A little bark cannot hurt you, Enver. I'd even let you bite me.”

[gloomedhands]

Is staring yet not staring at dak. maybe he's dissacoiating.

The drow catches the other's gaze, both unnerved and curious, as a brow arches at the vamypr. A moments passes by before Dakara raises a hand, a small wave in Rathie's direction, an attempt to reel him back to reality. Out of whatever daze he had slipped away into. If he had even slipped off into one, that is.

The ranger leaned in a tad closer, pale hues skimming over his companion's features, studying him, "Am I simply that dazzling to gaze upon? Or is there something on your mind? I will happily listen either way." Big as his ego may have been, he would still spare a willing ear to hear the other out. They were... friends after all. In a curious way.

[gloomedhands]

@banedictus ‘you think that it’s yours. that it’s owed to you.’

They were prone to quarrel over their differences. Dakara and Enver couldn’t always see eye to eye ( and where was the fun in it if they had— ) . Not all partnerships as fair and curious as theirs could be glittering gold at every waking moment. Sometimes it lost its shine. Awaiting to be polished once more. That was the reality to any successful alliance. Transactional or otherwise. Though the topic at hand had strayed away from the manner of duties and whatnot. Dipping into a toe too many into more personal affairs. 

Enver's words had never probed him so thoroughly before. Rather, they hadn't roused the drow in such a manner as they did now, finding them easy to brush off shortly after. A weakened space upon his iron-like demeanor remained, where the flesh was not yet hardened enough to withstand the plunge of a blade. Slipping perfectly in to puncture his nerves.

"Because it is mine." The gloomed ranger hissed lowly, the influx of his words pairing with the tight furrow of ashen brows as his expression twisted. Just as quickly it dulled. Swift to take control back over the tone of his voice. Still it lingered in every word, flickered in those pale divergent eyes. "All that I have is mine. I played my parts, filthied my hands for cowards, earned my worth, and gained the weight that my name carries. All on my own. I started off with nothing. I was nothing. Leashed by empty promises and fueled by lies for YEARS. A mutt begging at an empty bowl. They kept it starved. So it was happy with the scraps it was tossed."

“Not anymore. Not ever again.”

The hand who once fed the ranger is left a mystery between them. Only hand that mattered now was his own. He would never allow himself to hunger again. And that was all his companion need know. Nothing more, nothing less. 

Throat cleared as his demeanor straightened, booted heels carrying him a few, slow strides closer. Heavy palm clasping ‘pon the younger man’s shoulder. Squeezing firmly as he spoke, lips curled in that familiar smirk, "So yes, my dear Enver, do pardon me for being so… audacious. I do believe I am OWED many things from this fucking city and the filth that crawls about it like an infestation. After a damned century— longer, I think I've done more than enough to earn my own entitlement. To make the demands I do." 

"Don't you ever feel the very same?” He inquired softly, studying Gortash’s features as he continued, hand carefully moving to grasp gently at his neck. Calloused pad of his thumb brushing along the other’s jaw. “That you're owed every once in awhile? After working so hard to be where you are now. Respect, authority… Be honest."

[gloomedhands]

@devourhe ❝ One war ends, another begins. There is always someone fighting someone somewhere. ❞

"Of course. What would the world be without bloodshed?" He poses a serious inquiry. All his years, he's heard stories of wars. Been caught up in more than he cares to admit. Not even the kind that leave him breathless on the battlefield. But he only involves himself when they threaten his way of life. There was after all--- his own balance he had to keep steady. Less he was to tilt too far and tumble off the edge into territories unfamiliar to the ranger. "I hardly think it'd be familiar otherwise. Peace and prosperity. People do not know how to live like that for very long."

"The desire for bloodlust, revenge, greed... it would boil over in a single person--- that's all it would take. All it ever takes. And it would sweep across a village, a city, and seep into the next." Dakara stated, idly gesturing his hand about as he went on, “Even those who claim peace would draw ichor in a heartbeat. So, you are absolutely right. There will always be a war somewhere. Between lovers, friends, nations.”

He catches the other's eye. Wiry smirk crossing his features, a faint suggest that he's a cause of some, "Wars are so easily started too. Sometimes they're worth seeing play out."

[gloomedhands]

@dreadspvwn ❛  throat .   to  choke  my  muse  during  intimacy .

It was never meant to be this way. He had never intended it. To lay his calloused hands upon such horridly divine flesh, sculpted from the very being he devoted himself too so long ago... should not have been allowed. He was surely unworthy of such intimacies. And yet with eager and gaping maw, lips ventured over the other's form. Yearning to finally taste the flesh of his unholy idol he had sworn to serve as their guide. Help lead them and take back what was always rightfully theirs. A long and winding path; the rediscovery of one's self and true nature. Memories had started to reconstruct themselves, oh so slowly, but surely. But he dare not speak out of line, he dare not reveal that which need stay hidden from the other. He'd received his warnings if he were to loosen his tongue too much.

Though, Lorn began to look more and more familiar all on his own. The alure. The power. Something that all came to a sore head to put them in this sinful dance. Swayed by Dakara's own foolish vices.

And how could he deny his idol their pleasures?

The sheer weight of muscle is enough to trap the drow beneath his looming form. And Dakara sought not to be anywhere else but here. Legs splayed open and knees pressed tightly into hips that were saluted between them, rocking roughly against him. Filling him firmly and in ways he hadn’t been in a terribly long time. Every motion brings forth a prayer spoken in a tongue foreign to his lover. Nails raked down the length of Lorn's back, feeling the scars beneath his fingertips and tracing the ink that he had sketched to memory, gripping needily at their waist. Teeth scrape over the toned flesh along broad shoulders and strong neck, fawning fervently. When suddenly the warmth of his body fades, the air much more frigid than he recalled it being. A low whine had started to form in the depths of his chest, soft protest against the distance forced between them, but it dies before it slips out.

A large hand closes around the drow’s throat. Strained moans take the place of his whines. They did not merely stop there. Tighter and tighter, till his airways just crushed closed. Each breath strangled its way out into a wheeze. Though he does not protest. His touch burned in a kind of way even the flame of an open fire couldn’t compare too. Sense of twisted euphoria washed over him, pleasure engulfing every fiber of his being, and he only wanted more. Enticing him to arch his back skyward, hips shifting to meet the steady thrusts in a way that left him seeing white. Or perhaps the assassin was swiftly fading. Lungs empty of air to expel. The snare ‘bout his throat eases, just enough to free his crushed airways as he gasps, catching his breath.

But still he smiles, broken chuckle and breathless moans, hands tremor as they find rest ‘pon Lorn’s face. Idly tracing the scar over his cheek. Mismatched hues peer up at the larger, a hand settling atop the one still grasping at his neck. “More.” He begs through ragged and bated breath, “Please—.”

Bring him closer to his divine master.