#★. *･｡━━━ 🪤 stupid intruders ~ inbox

[accultant]

are you going to cold-shoulder me all night?

━━★. *･｡ﾟ✧⁺ THE AGONY OF UNMADE DECISIONS

Katya’s voice is on the other side of the door after Iago has changed the locks and the wards on it since Puck’s last… lapse. He nearly cracked their skull the other day in a frenzy and Iago has been holed up in their office since. The work keeps them busy. The solitude keeps them safe. 

They especially don’t want to talk to Katya of all people. Not after that. They don’t know if she was present during any of the mad dash around the Temple ( they were, admittedly, a bit too distracted to take note ) but it doesn’t make much of a difference. 

Iago escaped. As they somehow, inexplicably, painstakingly, repeatedly do again and again and again and again and again- 

They doubt Katya will last much longer here. Puck is fickle. Iago escaped this time, sure, but they’ve had a lifetime of practice. Katya pushes buttons for fun and doesn’t seem to take any of this seriously. She’ll be dead by the end of the week, they’ve convinced themselves after the twins’ latest altercation. 

They don’t want to talk to her, don’t want to see her, don’t want her anywhere near them. She’ll be nothing soon. So why bother with her now? Why entertain her a second longer? Interacting with her at all was a mistake, they knew it would be a mistake, they feel so stupid for ever even saying her name when they knew damn well they’d have to write it down in their ledgers with all the other victims. 

But Katya is insistent. Buttons, she’s always pushing buttons. Their voice snaps from the other side of the door, “Yes, I am. Go away.” 

They almost forget their excuse, the same one they’ve told her a million times now with very little success rate, “I have work to do. Go away, mutt.”

[accultant]

"Iago - what do you think of Pucks... unique gift giving skills?"

"Puck's gifts are lovely," they answer honestly. "The rat skull he gave me hasn't left my bedside table since I first got it."

They glance at her dubious expression and add, "If he's giving me anything organic, he knows by now to take care of the more unsavory parts before it reaches me. He learned his lesson when we were children, and he tried to give me a rat's heart - making quite the display of the extraction and everything. It made me too sick to even have any cake, and he was grounded for making a mess in the living room. Not our finest birthday."

[accultant]

"let’s go skinny-dipping! i haven’t been swimming all summer." (katya doesnt understand bonding with ur sibling in law isnt the same as bonding with her wolf pack -)

━━★. *･｡ﾟ✧⁺ THE AGONY OF UNMADE DECISIONS

The paperwork on Iago’s desk is piled almost comically high and their pen has been moving non stop since long before Katya even weaseled her way into their office. 

They spare her only one quick glance, “No. I’m busy and I would probably catch pneumonia.” 

Despite it being well into the summer season, that’s mostly an excuse, partially a real concern. Iago runs cold all year and they get sick so frequently and easily that they worry even saying the word pneumonia will land them with a sore throat the next day. They’d blame it on their time spent underground, their immune system no doubt in shambles, but it’s always been that way. 

Besides, Iago can hardly remember the last time they went swimming at all; they certainly haven’t ever been or had the desire to go skinny-dipping. If they weren’t so focused on their work, Iago might even laugh at such a suggestion, considering Katya has never even seen Iago’s arms outside of their sleeves. The gall…

They continue writing, “Go by yourself. Or ask Puck. Or any of your…”What did she call them again? “Your pack.”

[accultant]

no more bhaaltwins problematic angst. let's woobify the hell out of these freaks

ON IT BOSS!

A collection of miscellaneous Bhaaltwins fun facts:

they have a nightly ritual of brushing each other's hair before bed

Puck's nickname is "Dandelion" and Iago's is "Clover" courtesy of their mama and exclusive to the two of them

when they were sneaky little kiddos, they carved their names on the wall in the Open Hand Temple in Baldur's Gate and it's still there today

Puck pretends to be a mindless sheep whenever Iago accidentally polymorph's him in a wild magic moment so that he can get away with being sillay and pestering them

Puck's first word was "sledgehammer", Iago's first word was "kittycat"

Puck always carries around mint leaves for Iago to chew on when they get nauseous

Iago always looks for lemon candies when they're at a market/store to bring them to Puck since they know they're his favorites

Iago spends YEARS perfecting a tea recipe that Puck likes ( or at least tolerates ) since they know most things taste like ash to her but they want to have tea parties with her

their dad used to take them camping as kids

post-bg3 Iago and Puck have big family dinners and their kiddos are all best friends. the chaotic cousin crew

Iago and Puck fall asleep on top of each other like cats in a pile

they used to help their mother in her garden and make flower crowns for each other

they love each other so, so, so much :3

[accultant]

Jaheira swayed as she stepped closer to Iago, her eyes wide with drunken disbelief, her hands firmly gripping their shoulders. She leaned in, her face a mix of bafflement and sheer incredulity, as if she were trying to decipher the meaning of the universe itself — or at least the latest cosmic joke it had played on her.

“Wait, wait, wait, wait. You’re telling me,” she began, her voice rising with every syllable, “you have a twin? A twin?!” She shook them lightly, as if trying to rattle sense into both of them — or herself. “So, let me get this straight. Not content with spreading his bloody seed across the realms, not content with the chaos of Bhaalspawn running amok, this time Bhaal decided to — what? — make it double?!”

Her laughter started low, almost a growl, before it erupted into a full-throated, unhinged cackle. She let go of Iago’s shoulders, only to stagger back a step and throw her arms wide in a gesture of mock reverence. “Twins! Oh, divine one, you’ve outdone yourself this time!”

She turned back to Iago, her expression a mix of amusement and exasperation. “And here I thought my life couldn’t get any more complicated. But no, no! This time I have a matching set! Do you both come with blades, or is one of you the talky type?”

Jaheira wiped a tear from her eye, still chuckling, before fixing them with a half-serious glare. “If I wake up tomorrow and find out you’ve got triplets lurking somewhere, I’m going to throw myself off the nearest cliff. Mark my words.”

Iago scrunches up their shoulders when she grabs them and leans back with an unhappy whine as she leans forward like a clumsy, awkward dance between the two inebriated companions.

"Yes, twins, yes," they start, exasperated, having had this conversation a million times since the truth came to light.

But it doesn't quite seem like appearances are Jaheira's biggest issue here. Iago is surprised more people don't jump to this concern. It's almost a nice change to the surface-level 'twins? you're kidding, right?' looks of disbelief between the pathetic, magical waif and the 6'5 dogboy who couldn't look less alike. Almost a nice change. Mostly, it makes them want to bang their head against a tree.

"I've been wondering what the reasoning was my whole life," Iago grumbles as she shakes them. "He must've gotten quite bored. Can you keep it down?"

Her subsequent laughter and flourishing make Iago want to bury their head in the ground, so they bury themselves in their drink instead, throwing back the rest of it.

"No, I don't like using blades, that's Puck's thing. Words, I guess... But it's not even like that, it's not as if he was trying to double his kill count with another spawn."

Part of Iago is begging themselves to have a little tact, but Jaheira doesn't seem too inclined for a sugar-coated conversation and Iago is one or two glasses past trying, "Yes, there's the occasional bout of bloodlust and those irritating little voices in my head, but it's manageable. My role... Well, it's more like... I'm... Hm."

They squint, trying to think through a tipsy haze of a more eloquent way to explain that- "I'm Puck's personal slaughter lamb."

Well. That's one way to put it.

They quickly scramble to continue, "I mean- We aren't supposed to make some deadly duo. I was supposed to be killed by him-" They gesture over their shoulder with a roll of their eyes, "Ages ago. It's probably supposed to be symbolic or something, fate and killing the one you love most and all that, blah, blah, blah... But clearly, it's been a dud of an experiment so far since, well-" Now it's Iago's turn to gesture their arms in a rare show of the morbid pride they feel in their survival against all odds. Still kicking! They stumble a little on their feet as they do, a wobbly grin flashing across their flushed face- "Hah hah."

The display passes quickly, and they shrink again at her last threat, scoffing, "Gods, no. Just the two. That's more than enough, not that it should be any of your concern. If you think this is getting complicated for you, imagine actually being one half of this mess."

[accultant]

that's what you get from Miss Hexblood ♥

Iago's eyes grow more frog-like bigger than Miss Hexblood has ever seen them. They're immediately looking for their resident hellion, Steelclaw, and almost instantly forgetting that their neighboring seamstress is still in their shop. "Oh, right. Thank you, Babette," they call from halfway across the room. Steelclaw had found her way to a tall shelf, likely wary of the excitement in Iago's eyes.

"If you wish to stick around to see your latest garment put to use, you'll want to find something to hide behind. Your client is sure to draw blood while put this on her. I may lose an eye, too, but as long as I still have the one, should be fine."

[accultant]

*casually slides them a finger* "Here's One of 'Em. :/"

Iago wasn't intentionally making Puck do all of the work. To their credit, they did try to look for the rest of their hand once they had swaddled up a couple of bleeding stumps - but they were mostly just shuffling after their dog brother while he sniffed around since their energy was entirely focused on not throwing up or passing out.

"Oh, good. Halfway there," they say weakly, holding out their uninjured hand. They blink at the finger a few times and their voice continues just as flat and emotionless, "Ah. This is not my finger, Puck. Heh. But at least we're pointed in the right direction."

Poor Iago, they don't even get to know if Puck laughs at their pun or not before their eyes roll to the back of their head and they drop like dead weight. What a waste.

[accultant]

"When did you get this?" [from Vayu :3c @halfdeadsacrifice]

━━★. *･｡ﾟ✧ tracing scars | @halfdeadsacrifice

Vayu's hands were always warm. Calloused and strong, but never anything less than gentle when holding Iago's own - it was nice. Nice enough that when they laid beside him, facing him with their hands between them, they could almost fall right asleep. Almost. They're still awake when he speaks and open an eye to see what he's referring to.

His fingers trace over their own, stopping over the pale, jagged rings around the knuckles of their pointer and middle fingers.

Their hand twitches and they frown as if scolding it.

"Oh, you know how familial spats can get," they respond, morbidly lighthearted. Before they hastily add - "Not Puck."

They flex those fingers a few times before continuing flatly, "The other Bhaalspawn, Orin got bored one day and ran off with them. She isn't exactly known for her sportsmanship, though, so she refused to give me a single hint where she hid them. Not even a riddle. Where's the fun in that?"

Puck was able to find where she hid the digits around the temple before they had gone completely cold and dead, thankfully. The process of reattaching them isn't anything Iago ever wants to go through or think about again, but the only lasting damage is the ache when it rains ( most of Iago aches when it rains, though, so that isn't saying much ). They close their eyes again and tap those fingers against Vayu's palm, "You would think a riddle would be common courtesy."

[accultant]

blood, sender cleans blood off of receiver.

actions speak louder than words

Iago stares at forward, at some point above Amatista's shoulder, unblinking, not daring to so much as glance anywhere else for fear of seeing just how horrific they look. They never get dirty in a fight. They make a point not to. They can't handle it. This time was different - they were caught off-guard, pinned to the floor, and thankfully saved by their brother promptly cleaving their attacker in half.

All well now, after the fight. They were hardly injured, they were safe, the job was very efficient all in all. But they were drenched in gore.

They sat still other than the tremor in their fingers while Amatista takes their hands. Normally, they could manage this on their own. It's not the first time they've ended up in more viscera than desired ( the Bhaalists used to delight in a game of locking them in the oubliette or dunking them in the bloodpools and seeing who could escape without being burned alive in the aftermath ). But it was a lot.

"Just- if you could just help me clean my hands, that's all, I can deal with the rest." They devolve into a ramble, too quiet for anyone but Amatista to hear it, "The hands, first, so I can actually clean the rest of it off without simply spreading it around, I always make sure to clean the hands first. I can feel it on my face but if I touch it now, I'll only make it worse. And I need my hands to wash my hair, it's in my hair, too, and my clothes, but I can take care of that if you just get it off my hands, please-"

[accultant]

❛ you're not as bad as everyone says you are. ❜

Right, I'm so much worse, is their first thought, that is so insufferably dramatic, it makes even Iago roll their eyes. True as it may be, with all the secrets they hold desperately to their chest, the intimate knowledge they have of all they've done, of all they haven't done, of all their unending cowardice and fear. It still sounds needlessly edgy, though, and they'd be caught dead before they utter something so pathetic embarrassing.

"People have been talking about me? I'm flattered," they respond dryly.

That part isn't a surprise in the slightest. Brief moments where they forget themselves, let their walls down, remember to enjoy their company and the world around them, are always caught up with and dashed by their usual anxiety and paranoia. They hardly talk, and when they do, they have the tendency to forget how to hold a 'normal' conversation without a handful of well-crafted layers and guard. They've got a wretched attitude when they aren't playing those around them like a fiddle and donning a persona. Their secrets do little to make them seem welcoming when people try to bond with them. It's worse once the truths start coming out and their companions have started to learn, bit by bit, just how much Iago had been lying about. Whatever progress they had made with becoming slow, unlikely friends, was set back wildly when that bloodline of theirs came to light and questions became accusations of secret-keeping ( which are all perfectly justified, unfortunately ). All that to say, no, Iago is not surprised that people would talk about how bad they are.

Connor disagreeing with such is the surprising part.

But then, maybe he's just being sarcastic. Catty. And Iago is overthinking things again - another reason why they aren't exactly the most favorable conversation partner.

Iago spares them a glance, voice still monotone and unamused, "What makes you say that? Have I finally won you over?"

[accultant]

Try and get some sleep. We got a long way to go."

"I'm not gonna fall asleep," a bold statement for someone who took up Katya's challenge for a drinking contest and is currently hitching a ride home on her back. They hold their own surprisingly well for someone their size ( "its the weird murder blood in my veins," they had explained earlier that night, a couple bottles in ), but they also don't drink nearly as often as Katya - so they'd certainly met their match.

"I can just magic us back," Iago suggests, reaching a hand around Katya's shoulder to wiggle their fingers in her face. "Magic is fun. And it usually does what I want it to."

This is, of course, ignoring every other magic trick the inebriated sorcerer has tried tonight. They left the bar with three patrons who had been turned into sheep and one other who had an accidental charm spell put on them and was instantly enamored with Iago. In retaliation, that one was turned into a sheep as well ( but that time it was on purpose, so it doesn't count with the other misfires, okay? ).

[accultant]

He's been staring at Iago the whole evening while they do whatever it is they do around camp. Sometimes his eyes seems to glaze over like he's losing himself in thought, and his gaze slides to the ground... but then he blinks, shakes himself, and resumes staring, until--- there's a sudden intake of air. "I KNOW!" He stands up so quickly he knocks over the tree stump he's been sitting on. "I KNOW WHERE I'VE SEEN YOU BEFORE. YOU'RE FUCKING BHAALSPAWN!"

Gatt had been watching them all night, they could see it from the corner of their eye, making them hyperaware of each movement, each casual bit of tidying they were doing, worried they were too stiff, overly casual, oddly unnatural- it was all a bit much to keep track of for the sake of looking Normal and Not Suspicious, so they decided their safest bet would be to hide away for the night and hope whatever interest he had would fade.

Their hopes are dashed by his exclamation and for a moment, they're frozen in their tracks, blood running cold, panic ringing in their ears. It's a blessing they're facing away from him, he doesn't see the terror that flashes across their face. They feel briefly, horribly ill as their fate is suddenly dangling over an abyss ( they really should be used to that by now, but it's their fault for getting a little bit of their hope back ).

Iago's first instinct is to open a dimension door beneath his feet, send him tumbling away to into the woods where no one could hear his accusations. Or perhaps off of a cliff - they think they remember passing by one that would do just the trick. Their hands start to twitch, even, but they curl them into fists before their wild magic makes any rash decisions for them.

Must he be so loud...

Instead, they fix their well-practiced, deadpan glare at Gatt, turning towards him and crossing their arms. Please, please, please, just drop it, I can't let it all fall apart now, it's a mistake, you don't know what you're saying, you don't know that, how would you know that?! Their panic is shoved forcefully down their throat and they speak monotonously, quieter than he, in the hopes he matches their tone before anyone else ( oh, gods, they're so dead, they'll be burned alive, Puck will be burned alive ) is alerted. "What ever are you going on about? Isn't it a bit late to be yammering like this? People are trying to sleep."

[accultant]

iago, stop tormenting everyone with puns.

" 'Tormenting?' " Iago scoffs, hand to the chest, offended. "It's hardly a pun-ishment! I don't share them with just anyone, you know. It's a pun-in-a-million chance to hear one of my delightful jokes."

hehehehehehehe,

"It isn't my fault that - heh - some may be pun-familiar with my sense of humor."

heehehehe, stupid-

"I guess no one-" hehe. "Pun-derstands me."

They let out a forlorn sigh and look off into the distance. A timely gust of wind assists their lament, "I suppose I'm doomed to forever be the odd pun out."

[accultant]

✍ : What is your muse’s handwriting like? Is it neat? Sloppy? Fancy?

☕ : Does your muse prefer coffee or tea?

━━★. *･｡ﾟ✧⁺ HEADCANONS !

✍ : What is your muse’s handwriting like? Is it neat? Sloppy? Fancy?

Iago's handwriting varies drastically. When working, they keep it at least neat enough so that they can read it again later ( though it gets a little messier when they're especially stressed or tired ). It's damn near perfect when when corresponding with others and very decorative and pretty. Their blackmail is written elegantly and with perfectly dotted i's and neatly crossed t's. A death threat you could frame. Example below:

But in their journal it's a nightmare. Their chicken scratch is hardly legible to even themselves. Beyond the mess that's going on otherwise, code and acronyms and alternating languages and shorthand and stream of consciousness, the handwriting alone is a complete mess. Horrendous and accurate example below:

☕ : Does your muse prefer coffee or tea?

They prefer coffee ( at all hours of the day ) but eventually grow fond of tea and enjoy learning about the different kinds and preparation. Post-BG3 Iago has an insane tea collection from one of their many phases of trying out as many hobbies and interests as possible to see what sticks since they realize they have none AKA speedrunning a personality. It's also better for their poor heart and anxiety with less caffeine than their usual 6 cups of black coffee a day, they come to realize.

[accultant]

ye better sit down afore ye keel over.

Iago waves their hand dismissively without even looking at her, "'M fine."

They are, in fact, very close to keeling over, which is why they hold onto the side of the ship with white knuckles while they precariously peer over the side. It's dizzying, it makes their legs all wobbly, and they feel a little lightheaded. Not that any of that is unfamiliar - they're unfortunately quite used to passing out at the sight of blood or the exhaustion from magic too heavily spent. But this time it's different. No, no, this light-headed, hardly able to stand feeling is one of amazement.

They lived in Baldur's Gate their whole life, most of that spent underneath the city. Why the hells would they care about the ocean? They've seen it, sure, in passing, but they've never really paid it any mind. They've never been on it! They didn't realize just how much of it there was !!

It's so vast. It's so beautiful. They've never seen anything like it. It fills them with such a sense of scale and wonder that they don't know what to do with themselves. Putting words to such a feeling feels impossible, so after a few more moments of staring, wide-eyed and mesmerized, they can only mumble a dumbfounded, "So much water..."

[accultant]

👚+ puck's cowboy hat

Dress my muse up!!

"OoOoOo look at me, I'm Puck, I'm tall and I bark like a dog and I wear silly little hats,"