#✂ ˚ Of carnage and scales ˚⠀⠀/ Attor .

[bloodyarn]

Idk man I just had to sketch this little scene out. The brainworms didn't stop squirming.

from this thread with @loomsred

[bloodyarn]

      𝐇𝐢𝘀 𝐚𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐢𝐞𝘀 𝐚𝗿𝐞 𝘄𝐚𝘃𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐟𝐟 𝘄𝐢𝘁𝐡 𝐚 𝐟𝐢𝘁𝘁𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐨𝘁𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐞𝗿 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝.      If anything, he made her night better. The usual croaking of frogs in heat got repetitive after the first two hours.     ❝ Please, I'm glad someone showed up. Being alone with your own thoughts can be a haunting experience. ❞     Although her words held a certain joking undertone, there was an underlying honesty present.

Brushing off his splashing and eventually calming attitude as nothing but a potential bad dream Attor must have had gone through, the tailor observed him similarly, feet obliviously swaying through the cold wet, making some lily pads lazily float inches back and forth.     ❝ You almost look like a crocodile like this. Did you know   —   Some say there once was a population of crocodiles in the sewers beneath Waterdeep  ?   Very spooky. ❞     Shaking her head in amusement, a light-hearted sigh.

     ❝ If it wasn't someone waking you up, why are you awake then   ?   Nightmares   ?   Nervous because of tomorrow   ? ❞

He almost didn't hear her. Her voice was but a soft bell in the raging cacophony of his mind, words lost in the echo. Yet, above all else, he heard her quiet sort of scolding, and shook his head stiffly. this was not Astarion's doing. Were it such an easy solution! He said nothing, staring dumbly at the doll he still held firmly. Sense took him enough to gently set it aside as he splashed some water on his face. He was still too hot, too jagged and cloudy. The wasn't terribly deep, but enough so that he could be mostly submerged and not drown should unconsciousness take him. One step, then two, and he slid into the water with a hiss and a long, weary sigh. The heat melted off his scales, and his mind cleared. The thoughts quieted and his mind stilled. Comfort and clarity. "I'm afraid it might have been I who woke Astarion, if his shuffling about his tent was any indication." He rested his head on one of the rocks, eyes lidded in contentment as he observed her ritual. "Apologies if I frightened you."

[bloodyarn]

     𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝘀𝐞𝗿𝐞𝐧𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐝𝘆 𝐨𝐟 𝘄𝐚𝘁𝐞𝗿 𝐦𝐢𝗿𝗿𝐨𝗿𝘀 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐝, 𝐞𝐞𝗿𝐢𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝘁𝘀 𝐟𝗿𝐨𝐦 𝘁𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝘂𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝘃𝐞.     Several glass jars have been neatly lined up on a flat stone, open to the night's smile to touch, away from bushes and trees that might block the light. Babette was not used to staying up late. It was only once a month she brought out these little containers with the intention of making moon water. A practice that had to be done every once in a while to enchant yarn after dipping it into the clear fluid.

And someone had to look out for squirrels and rabbits, not knocking them over. There only was one chance a month, after all. So the seamstress idly sways her feet in the cold waters, listening to nightingales singing their lazy songs as the stars twinkle on the horizon. The girl noticed noise; a crunch of leaves, some rustling of the overgrown grass around the river. Possibly a beaver, a crow perhaps   ?

But to her surprise, a familiar orange hue reflects the moonlight from meters away. Scales, usually of dark and warm colors, almost look pristine. Attor   ?   What was he doing around this time   ?   Babette was aware of his restlessness, she had hoped he would find tranquility at least tonight, before they would venture through a thick forest tomorrow.

     ❝ Stargazing   ? ❞     Her soft voice breaks the cicada's lullabies, her head turned towards the lizard.     ❝ Did Astarion wake you up   ?   I told him to be quiet for your sake. ❞     A scolding tone, her gentle nature, however, makes it hard to detect any true malice between syllables. The tailor would have to have a word with the one who woke her scaly friend up, surely.

@bloodyarn has encountered a problem... The moon was at her zenith, crickets chirping their summer serenade when Attor stepped from his tent. He was in pain, spine arched as he curled in on himself. His thoughts were a cacophony of desires not his own, teeth gnashing as hunger ripped through his guts like knife. And he was hot, boiling, claws raking along his scales as the desire to pull off his own skin crashed into him. -- want the rot want the rot the rot the red rend flesh from bone snap sinew rend tendon break bite snap spill the blood consume the flesh rend the soul give unto Him give share rejoice heed the call heed the call HEED THE CALL bask in the glory live your name your birthright your desires give in squelching squealing piglet people kill them all kill them ALL -- Sweat dripped between his scales and burned his eyes, but he tried to focus. The doll was in his hands, clutched tightly. A lifeline. A link back to the present.

-- give in let go heal the pain drown the pain with blood soak up the crumbs with offal drink deep the cries of the dying of the damned be a Good Boy be a Good Son be His son heed the call gut them like pigs wring their pheasant necks wallow in their misery mire in their filth -- Gods, he hoped no one else had been awoken as he stumbled out of camp. There was a river nearby and maybe the cold water would help. He prayed it would help. Gods please let it help.