#𝐕. 𝐀𝐂𝐓 𝐈𝐈. ➷ YOU CAN BREAK A SHOVEL WHEN YOU BREAK NEW GROUND！

[bloodtwin]

&&.┆THE BAG OF BONES ☠️ INBOX. 

@accultant sent:

❝ did you have a nightmare? ❞

SOURCE: PROMPTS FOR SIBLINGS.

            ❝ YES, ❞ he whispers like it's a secret, standing in the threshold of Iago's tent. He doesn't understand how they just know, but it feels right that they do. Feels right that they are still awake, as if they had been waiting for him. Not for the last time does he wonder how close they used to be. 

Timidly, he steps farther inside. For some reason, the action feels wrong. Unsafe, but not for himself. He does not think he has ever felt unsafe. Not regarding his own safety.

            ❝ Could I stay here for a while ？❞ He's quiet for a moment before adding, ❝ I won't fall asleep, promise. Just . . .  Don't wanna be alone. ❞ He doesn't understand why he felt the need to clarify that either, but it had felt important. 

[bloodtwin]

HE DOESN’T KNOW WHAT IT IS, but something seems off about Astarion. Something uncharacteristically nervous, uncomfortably candid. Raw. 

          The confrontation with Araj shifted something. Opened doors Puck hadn’t realized he held the keys for. He doesn’t even know where those doors lead, but they have Astarion on edge & that is enough to worry him. 

His brow creases, mouth dipped in a focused pout as he listens intently. As he scans Astarion’s face, searching for hints regarding the vampire’s thoughts. But the expression Astarion wears is unlike any other Puck has seen from him; he can’t read it, much to his increasing dismay. 

          Puck may be GULLIBLE, but he is not so witless as to think Astarion is an honest person. The vampire speaks in riddles & prettily-dressed lies. Everything feels like a game with him ⸻ a puzzle. Puck likes puzzles. Admittedly, he had expected to be locked in whatever dance Astarion had choreographed for the two of them forever. He’d reconciled with that for quite some time now, choosing to be there for Astarion regardless of the vampire’s intentions. Puck doesn’t mind being used, so long as he is used well. 

As a result, he is almost unsure of what to say in response to the sudden, jarring honesty presented to him. That real affection he’d caught a glimpse of before, the genuine gratitude, lying bare at his feet again.

          Puck feels EXPOSED because of it. He doesn’t mean to do it, but he tenses at the notion of talking. Can already feel his pounding heart being peeled & unraveled bit by bit. The doors have all swung wide open, waiting for him to step inside so they can swallow him whole. 

Puck does his best to conceal his own nerves, not wanting to worry Astarion. He doesn’t want to discourage him from speaking his mind. He wants to know what he has to say, even if just the idea of letting him speak alone feels eerily like ripping his heart out of his chest & gifting it to him. 

          ❝ Of course. ❞ Puck manages to keep his voice steady. He hopes it sounds reassuring. ❝ I’ll be there. Whatever you need. ❞

The bristling, violent energy that had radiated off of Puck in waves now seems to ebb away, leaving behind the more familiar, awkward shuffle of a man far too large for his own sheepishness. Astarion can still feel the phantom thrum of Puck’s tail against his leg, no longer the agitated, feral beat against the floor, but something softer. Something warmer. It’s almost absurd, how something as small as a tail wag could send a flutter through Astarion’s chest, the sensation catching him off guard once again. This fluttering, this warmth, this constant feeling of being seen whenever Puck looks at him——like the man is holding something precious in his hands, even though all Astarion sees in himself is something shattered and sharp. And then, as if on cue, the guilt twists again, snaking its way up from the pit of his stomach, a knife sinking in deeper every time he meets those golden eyes.

❛ Toodles, ❜ Astarion had quipped to Araj before leaving, the word flippant, cheeky——masking the rush of emotion that had threatened to bubble over. He had followed Puck out the door with that same devilish grin on his lips, playing the part as he always did, his every move calculated to hide what was simmering underneath. But the truth was, if Puck had asked him to bite her, to take that revolting, rancid blood into his mouth, he probably would have done it. He knows it. The old reflex to follow commands, to submit when someone held even a fragment of authority over him—especially when that someone was Puck. It’s as if his body is still wired to please, to bend, to give.

Yet, Puck hadn’t asked. He had defended him instead, insisted on his autonomy. And that… that is what makes the guilt twist harder, tighter, until Astarion feels like he might choke on it. Puck had seen him—really seen him—and made sure he was free to choose. And Astarion, in return, has been lying to him. Manipulating him. Using him. He forces a breath, his usual composed facade threatening to crack as they stand in the silence outside. When Puck speaks, his voice low and unsure, Astarion’s heart does that insufferable little flutter again.

❛ Too much? ❜ Astarion repeats, his lips curving into a soft chuckle, though there’s something fragile in the sound. ❛ Darling, no one has ever done anything like that for me before. ❜ His voice is quieter now, the sharpness gone, leaving only the truth. He lifts his gaze to meet Puck’s, the weight of the moment settling between them like a stone sinking into deep water. There it is. The realization, sharp and cold, like the first time a knife sinks into flesh. He can’t keep doing this. He can’t keep playing the role, pretending that this is just another seduction, another conquest. That Puck is just another fool to be strung along. Because it isn’t that anymore. It hasn’t been that for some time now, has it? He feels it in every touch, every glance, in the way his heart aches when Puck looks at him——like there’s something worth loving beneath all the centuries of death and loathing.

❛ I… appreciated it, ❜ Astarion continues, the word emphasized as if to hammer it into Puck’s mind, to make sure he knows. ❛ Thank you. ❜ The words feel too small, too insignificant for what’s swelling in his chest, but they’re all he has. And yet, even as the gratitude slips from his lips, the guilt gnaws at him, relentless. His smile falters, the weight of it all pressing down on him, and this time, he’s sure the pain is evident on his face.

❛ When we, um… get back to camp…❜ His voice wavers slightly, betraying the storm roiling inside him. His eyes dart away for a moment, but then he forces himself to look back up at Puck, swallowing hard. ❛ Can you meet me by my tent? I… need to talk to you about something rather important. ❜

[bloodtwin]

𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐠 。。。

             latest grave robbed: shit i've said to my cat 。

@palespawn ⸻ ❝ What did you knock over? ❞

HIS TAIL RECOILS instantly. Wrapping around his ankle, it slithers away from the scene of the crime: a shattered glass bottle & an eyeball going splat ！against the stone floor.

             Puck looks horribly sheepish. He whispers, ❝ I think that may have been Balthazar's mother 。。。❞

[bloodtwin]

𝐌𝐀𝐈𝐍 𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄: OLD DOG LEARNING NEW TRICKS ;  𝐁𝐆𝟑  。

Default verse set during the events of Baldur's Gate III. Each act of the game has its own specific tag because there are very distinct differences in Puck's characterization & the amount of knowledge he has about who he is, depending on where he is in the journey.

𝐕. 𝐀𝐂𝐓 𝐈. ➷ WHAT’S WITH THAT HOLE IN YOUR HEAD … ？

At the start of the game, Puck is at his most naive & most malleable. At his core, he has an idealistic mindset with recklessly heroic tendencies due to a strong sense of justice. However, he remembers nothing from his past & has no concrete basis for his beliefs. He can be easily swayed into giving in to his dark urges. That being said, he is deeply afraid of himself & his urges. He does not know the full extent of his strength, but he knows that he is more powerful than he'd like to be. He intentionally tries to make himself seem weaker than he is to be less intimidating. Whether or not he is successful in this endeavor is up in the air. He has a scar at the base of his back that he believes used to be a tail that got severed somehow. He cannot remember how it happened. Canonically, he is very open about the Dark Urge & does not attempt to hide the fact he killed Alfira. He chooses to save the grove.  

𝐕. 𝐀𝐂𝐓 𝐈𝐈. ➷ YOU CAN BREAK A SHOVEL WHEN YOU BREAK NEW GROUND！

During this act, Puck is starting to lose his grip on his meek persona, asserting himself more aggressively & giving in to his urges more frequently ⸻ even if he is attempting to resist the urge ⸻ especially upon entering Moonrise Towers. His self-sacrificial behavior will also increase as he spreads himself too thin by trying to save everyone he possibly can. Also much more reclusive, not as open with his thoughts & emotions as he was in the previous act. Whether or not Puck chooses to kill Isobel ( default: sparing her ) , he will re-grow his tail overnight. Later in the act, he will learn it got chopped off by Kressa Bonedaughter after he attempted to strangle her with it during her experiments on him. With this verse, I will default to Iago being recruited at Last Light Inn, post-Marcus fight unless plotted otherwise. From them, Puck will have learned that he used to be their ❝ childhood friend ❞ & co-worker in the Guild. He will not know they are actually twins nor will he know anything about being a bhaalspawn, but he does know they are keeping things from him.   Canonically, he convinces Shadowheart not to kill the Nightsong. He also attempts to persuade Ketheric to surrender.  

𝐕. 𝐀𝐂𝐓 𝐈𝐈𝐈. ➷ HE MADE THE WORM！HE HAS TO KILL THE WORM！

Post-Durge reveal, Puck now knows that he is a bhaalspawn & Iago is his twin. He also learns about his involvement in the plot of the Absolute. He kind of goes insane & has a, uhh, I Love It by Icona Pop ( feat. Charli XCX ) vibe going on. That's the best way I can describe what's going on in his head, sorry. I tried to write a serious description, but similarly to Puck's attitude in Act 3, I had to get silly with it. Canonically, he does not agree to an alliance with Gortash, rejects Bhaal & defeats the Netherbrain. 

[bloodtwin]

𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒 。

𝐕. 𝐁𝐁. ➷ THE LITTLE MYSTIC ＆ HIS HANDLER！ 𝐕. 𝐁𝐓. ➷ THE BOY WHO DESTROYED THE WORLD！ 𝐕. 𝐀𝐂𝐓 𝐈. ➷ WHAT’S WITH THAT HOLE IN YOUR HEAD … ？ 𝐕. 𝐀𝐂𝐓 𝐈𝐈. ➷ YOU CAN BREAK A SHOVEL WHEN YOU BREAK NEW GROUND！ 𝐕. 𝐀𝐂𝐓 𝐈𝐈����. ➷ HE MADE THE WORM！HE HAS TO KILL THE WORM！ 𝐕. 𝐑𝐁. ➷ BREAK GOD’S RIB TO MAKE A SCYTHE！ 𝐕. 𝐃𝐏. ➷ THE WALK TO THE WELL OF HUMAN KINDNESS！ 𝐕. 𝐓𝐀. ➷ I NEED TO PERFECT MY RUN！ 𝐕. 𝐓𝐈. ➷ GIVE IT UP IF YOU FEEL UNSAFE！ 𝐕. 𝐑𝐒. ➷ WEREWOLF GIMMICK！ 𝐕. 𝐁𝐉. ➷ BEWARE OF HELL HOUND！

[bloodtwin]

relief washes over him as arawn spins his embarrassing slip of the tongue into a joke, smoothing over any potential awkwardness from being too honest—even if his laugh sounds bitter. puck is starting to understand why the others would disapprove of willingly drinking truth serum. 

he doesn’t have anything equally as witty to quip in reply, so he goes straight for the introduction instead. ‘ puck. ( i think. ) i don’t know, actually. it’s possible i just made that up. ’ oh, gods. he’s still talking. ‘ you know, i’ve been wandering around this whole time, saying my name is puck, & i don’t even know if that’s TRUE. i mean— ’  finally, he manages to shut his mouth. all right, so not his best introduction in the world, but still not his worst. that should count for something. he clears his throat, scratches behind his ear. ‘ sorry, i just drank a truth serum because i’m a fucking idiot. ’  an idiot who thinks he doesn’t have secrets. oh, good job, puck. you kept that one to yourself.

Arawn blinks, a slight headache forming at his temples, it clears as the other man looks away. He's used to people not quite meeting his gaze. Between the scars and the rather unsettling color of his eyes, well, he ain't winning any beauty contests.

And then the other man is talking and that's...a decent amount of personal information. Arawn doesn't exactly know what to do with that level of intimacy from a stranger. He feels unmoored by it, the twin desires to laugh with the man and run from him warring in his heart. There's fear there, but there's also recognition, like calling to like.

Because, well, fucking same. A past he can never go back to and yet was relentlessly haunted by; Visions of a slaughtered town, and a little girl, too young to know her papa's face, dance behind his eyes for a moment. There's wings folded at his back, he can't see them but he can feel their weight shackling him to a destiny he no longer has control over. He shakes his head and tries for a smile.

It doesn't sit quite right, but he forces it anyways.

"Join the fucking club," he laughs, sharp and bitter. "Let me know if you find out how to stop the haunting, I'll take any tips you got."

"I'm Arawn, you got a name?"

[bloodtwin]

@karmints sent: ❛ what i did, i did for us ❜ from rook ADVENTURING PARTY PROMPTS.

though he knows it is HYPOCRITICAL, puck bristles. his hands curl into fists as he attempts to keep them from inching toward the knives stashed in his boot. his aching head whips around, so he can stare at rook, eyes blazing with rage. with pain. ‘ what you did was arrogant & humiliating. i would have made the right decision without your intervention ! ’

you don’t know that, a voice hisses in the back of his mind. he likes to lie to tell himself he’s better than his urges, that he can resist them, but he knows he indulges them more than he would ever admit.

it is very likely that—had rook not snatched the moonlantern from his hands—puck would have smashed it on the ground. or worse, he might've released the pixie only to crush it with his bare hands. that would have felt good. he might have even done it consciously if given the opportunity. the pixie made his blood boil, yet he does not know why. he thinks maybe he's seen one before. ( whatever the reason, he hates her. he wishes he crushed her. ) stop it.

‘ i am NOT a wild animal; i can control myself. ’ no, you can’t. ‘ just because you understand my impulses doesn’t mean you’re allowed to strip me of my agency to prevent them. ’

[bloodtwin]

finally i have tags for each act of bg3 bc i think i need to start specifying where in the game i'm writing him specifically. bc in act 1, hes just very clueless & scared abt everything. act 2, he is probably spiraling BAD bc he's learning TOO MUCH abt himself. act THREE ? ! ! my good bitch has a tail & he's throwing bricks thru ppl's windows he does NOT gaf anymore

[bloodtwin]

          PUCK WAS QUICK to look away when she attempted eye contact with him. He had long since learned that his gaze had a negative effect on others.

It was similar to that which happened when one stared directly into the sun. Almost neon in their shade of yellow, his eyes seemed to drill holes into people's skulls, leaving them with a migraine or worse: causing them to pass out. Sometimes even foam at the mouth. Or die.

Puck did not relish the pain he caused in this manner. It made him feel guilty.

          Then again, that might as well have been his default state of mind, anyway. Especially these days. His craving for violence intensified with every passing hour. His hands kept twitching, yearning for blades or throats.

Blades against throats. Blades shoved down throats. Blood-dripping blades on blood-oozing throats. Gushing blood, gushing, gushing. Drip, ooze ⸻ 

           ❛ Is 。。。 everything alright ？❜

Puck shuddered at the sound of Faenethra's voice. Stared down at his own blood-soaked palms, feeling sick. He couldn't remember what he was just thinking about. 

           Wait.

                      His what-soaked palms ？

He blinked. Stared down at his palms again. They were as clean as could be. Pristine, almost plush as lamb's wool; nothing like the rough, calloused hands he'd grown so used to. His own, perpetual headache grew worse. 

           ❝ Well, ❞ he sighed, ❝ I'm hallucinating blood splatters everywhere I look, so I'd say I'm doing pretty well. ❞  

Puck glanced at Faenethra, then. Or, he glanced slightly to the left of her. To avoid eye contact. He looked so, so tired. Despite the heavy makeup covering them up, it was evident that the dark circles underneath his eyes were far deeper than they'd ever been. He never did sleep. Couldn't recall the last time he did. Knew he shouldn't even try.  

          ❝ I just can't stop thinking about death. No matter how hard I try. ❞ 

@bloodtwin

Faenethra watched from a fair distance, cross-armed as Puck sat alone. He clearly wasn't himself right now... And annoying as his 'usual self' could be, Faenethra didn't like seeing any of her companions like this. So, the drow heaved a quiet sigh before approaching the other.

" Is...everything alright? " she asked as she walked over. Faenethra tried to hold his gaze, but after a moment, another headache ran through her brain. Hells, she's been getting them so much lately, more than usual... She figured the bloody tadpole was to blame. But none of that mattered right now.

She lowered her gaze, partially due to the headache but also due to a bit of awkwardness. Faenethra wasn't good at comforting people, or even any sort of social interaction, really. But something was clearly bothering him. She wanted to help.

[bloodtwin]

yeah . . . yeah, that's probably true. not something he's proud of, but not something he can deny either. he did just threaten to eat rolan's bones after he was rude to one of the tiefling children at the bar.

he's just- ugh, he's so tired. he's so tired, and he always tries to be so polite & rarely succeeds. maybe he should start biting people. ( he already does . . . ) but to be fair, he could have been biting a lot of people at this point, and he's only bitten SOME of them so actually he should be a good example of something called trying your best.

he grumbles, ‘ well. someone ELSE'S mom is gonna use rolan as an example of what happens when you piss off the bad example. ’

@bloodtwin liked for a short + casual random starter

❝ someones mom is probably usin' ya as a bad example fer her kids. ❞

[bloodtwin]

Oh. Oh. Too much, too much. He did too much. He needs to backtrack. He was only teasing. Thought it was funny. It's only funny if she teases back, dumbass.

Immaculately suited to do everything ？Puck scratches behind his ear, corners of his mouth dipped into a frown. He doesn't understand what she means, but he hears pain in her tone.

❝ I'm sorry; I didn't mean to ⸻ ❞ Offend ？Hurt your feelings ？ ❝ ⸻ I was only playing. ❞ He fidgets for a moment, not sure what to say to fix the problem. He always has to fix the problem. ❝ Well, I don't know the way exactly, but I can help 'cuz, uh . . . ❞

What ？You don't have a map. Yeah, but I'm good with directions. You're good with directions . . . And tracking ！Tracking . . . Y'know, like, sniffin' stuff out. With my nose. Listen, I just am. I don't know ！！！

Puck winces, shaking his head. ❝ I thought you liked being in the front. Was I- was I wrong ？❞

Cute? He can see her fist clench, the ruddy tint of her skin especially helpful for watching the blood leave her knuckles with how tight she's grasping at nothing. Well... maybe not nothing. Her pride, her control of the conversation, her composure...

When she turns back towards him, the expression that's settled into her features is hard to read. Puck's given a general overview of "bad" and also possibly "resentful", but any uncertainty is dispelled by the practical tremor in her voice.

"If you know the way, just as you seem immaculately suited to do everything on this journey, then why, if I could be so bold, did you put me in front."

[bloodtwin]

❝ EXCUSE ME ？He’s his own person. ❞ That is what he had said, yet the woman before him laughed at the idea. As if it were the most unbelievable thing in the world. Worse, she seemed to imply there was some kind of inside joke meant to be shared between Puck & herself. 

❛  I’m sure he really believes that. How utterly adorable.  ❜ The words made his hands start to ITCH. 

Look at it, she seemed to jeer in her complacent smile, eyes flicking between Puck & Astarion almost knowingly. Under your thumb completely without even realizing it. Poor thing. 

Blood boiling, Puck almost stepped between Araj & Astarion right at that moment but kept still, jaw clenching. He bristled. It took more than a little disagreement to ruffle Puck’s feathers; even in intense conflict, he could keep a level, patient head & play nice. He was, ironically, a barbarian who preferred peaceful resolution when his mind wasn’t POLLUTED with death. 

But now, he was just about to start foaming at the mouth. His tail ⸻ still so new, he had no idea how to control it ⸻ slapped the ground in agitation. He’d tensed the moment Araj laid eyes on Astarion, noting the glint in her eyes before she even spoke to him. Puck had never felt such a strong reaction to someone looking at a friend of his, but he found he felt threatened somehow. 

A myriad of colorful violence painting her demise poured into his head. Before Puck could fully retreat into the depths of his fantasies of DECAPITATION & do something he would likely regret, Araj spoke to him again:  ❛ Can’t you talk some sense into your obstinate charge ？ ❜

Horribly, he found himself wondering, Would Astarion do it if I asked him ？A chill ran down his spine at the thought. 

Puck had no intention of asking such a thing, of course. The potion Araj offered could be useful, yes, but it wasn’t worth it. It was not worth Astarion’s dignity. Puck likely couldn’t smell it as strongly as a vampire, but he could tell there was . . . something off about the blood swimming in that woman’s veins. It’d been tampered with, maybe.   He wasn’t sure, but even if he hadn’t noticed the uncanny factor, Astarion was UNCOMFORTABLE. That was enough for Puck. He said no, and that was that. End of story. 

( There may have been a touch of hubris in his thought process, too. Puck believed his own strength was more than enough as it was. They simply did not need that potion. )

But that didn’t answer his own question. Would he do it if I asked ？Of Course He Would He’s Wrapped Around Your Finger They All Are THEY ARE NOT.  Puck hated those involuntary thoughts more than the violent ones. They prodded at his EGO; whoever he had been before must have had an inflated, unbearable sense of self-importance because he craved authority. POWER. He suppressed it, tried so hard to deny it, yet it influenced his every interaction. His every decision. He always found himself back at the center of attention, always taking charge despite seemingly only having air in his head. 

You Just Pretend You Don’t Know Anything. You know everything. So aware of EVERYTHING all the time. Lion trying to squeeze into the body of a mouse. A WOLF LEADING HIS PACK TO THEIR GRAVES. Except those little, white-haired lambs ; you have something special waiting just for them, don’t you ？You can’t wait. 

Puck didn’t realize he’d stepped between Araj & Astarion. Not until a growl rumbled in his chest & the smug grin fell from the woman’s face. He couldn’t take it anymore, the way she’d stared at him like a predator. MY PREY. MINE. Shut up, shut up, shut up. That was not why. He refused to believe that was why. Puck’s instincts struggled against each other, fighting tooth & nail, protector vs. predator. He had both the urge to help & the urge to harm. He did not know which one was really him, but he knew which one he wanted to be, so he stood his ground. If Araj wanted to force Astarion to do something he did not want, she would have to get through the BIG, SCARY DOG first. 

Then he felt Astarion move behind him, pale fingers delicately brushing one of Puck’s tensed arms. The touch was soft, almost tender. Briefly, the DEATH GLARE flickered, the snarl on his lips died, as he glanced down at the vampire. Warmth flooded his golden eyes as they locked with Astarion’s crimsons. His heart skipped a beat, and his stupid tail stopped beating the ground to swish side-to-side. 

There was something different in Astarion’s expression. Carefully-crafted seduction & disdain seemed to have disappeared entirely, if only for a moment, replaced with a rare gentleness. Something like real fondness. Affection.  

Oh. That is why he stepped in. Suddenly, Araj did not matter. The urge that screamed, both VAIN & VIOLENT, died as Puck realized the truth. He stood between them because he wanted Astarion to feel safe. Safe enough to choose for himself, to stand his own ground, to freely express himself without worry. 

Puck gave Araj one last, hard stare. ❝  I think he made himself clear, don’t you ？❞ he said then gestured to the door with his head. They were leaving before she could even open her mouth to respond. 

──────────────────────────────

Once outside, Puck immediately seems to deflate, any remaining rage & adrenaline leaving his body in an instant. As always, with everything he did, guilt trickles in as he begins to DOUBT his decision.

Maybe he should have let Astarion handle it himself. He should have just said no like a normal person when Araj spoke to him. Instead he started GROWLING like a feral dog.

Puck chews his lip, scratching at the side of his neck. He’s curling in on himself again, trying to make himself smaller. Sheepishly, he turns to Astarion. ❝ Uh, that wasn’t too much, was it ？The way she talked to you pissed me off . . . ❞ 

@bloodtwin sent: [ 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐄𝐋𝐃 ] My muse steps protectively in front of yours

Astarion stands still, the air thick with tension within the stone walls of Moonrise Towers. The smell of damp stone mingles with something far worse, something rank——Araj’s blood. He can sense it, taste it in the air even without opening his mouth. It curdles inside him like a festering wound, and the thought of sinking his teeth into her makes his stomach turn. No. He won’t do it. Her voice grates on him like nails dragged across bone, her demand laced with a smug authority that sends a shiver of disgust down his spine. "Can’t you talk some sense into your obstinate charge?" she asks, her words sharp, curling around the implication that he belongs to Puck.

But for the briefest of moments, doubt flickers in Astarion’s chest. He knows what Puck could do, how easily the barbarian could turn to him and give the command. He’s seen how Puck's eyes gleam when battle is upon them, how his lips curl with that wild hunger for the next fight, the next thrill. The potion Araj dangles before them——it could help him, help them, in the chaos still to come. And after everything, what does Astarion really matter in the grand scheme of things? He’s just a vampire spawn, after all, a pretty thing with a venomous bite, a tool to be used when it’s convenient and discarded when it’s not.

But then, Puck shifts. Not with words, but with his body. He steps forward, his massive form cutting between Astarion and Araj like a fortress of flesh and blood. Astarion watches as his companion crosses his arms, muscles taut beneath his skin, and stands there like a wall of unwavering defiance. He can’t see Puck’s face—just the broad expanse of his back—but he doesn’t need to. He can feel it, the sheer force of Puck’s presence, radiating danger, and it’s enough to make Araj falter, just for a moment. The air around them changes, thick with something almost predatory.

Astarion’s heart stirs in his chest, a sudden warmth spreading through him that he doesn’t quite know what to do with. It’s absurd, really—Puck doesn’t need to protect him. He can handle himself; he’s done so for centuries, hasn’t he? But this… this is different. Puck could have asked him to do it. He could have made a choice that would serve their mission, their survival. Instead, he stood in front of him like a guardian, a silent sentinel who wouldn’t let anyone—anything—command Astarion but himself. And that… that does something to him. Something deep.

Astarion feels his lips twitch into a smirk, though there’s a softness beneath it, something that betrays the usual edge of cruelty that he hides behind. His fingers lift almost on their own, brushing against Puck’s arm, an intimate touch that startles even him. He peers around Puck’s towering frame, peeking from behind him like a pale wraith hiding behind the shoulders of a giant. ❛ I’m afraid the answer is still a hard no, darling. And I’d leave it at that if I were you. ❜ His voice lilts with its usual velvet, the casual purr of danger that Araj should take heed of.

But his hand lingers, thumb grazing against the warmth of Puck’s skin, tracing over the lines of his flesh in a touch far gentler than any Astarion has given in… years. He lets his eyes linger on Puck’s face, just for a moment, his smirk faltering as something else flickers in his crimson gaze. Affection. Real, tangible affection. It’s a look Astarion has never allowed himself to wear, not before. But here it is, laid bare for Puck to see——if he were to look down at him now, the vampire’s defenses would crumble before his eyes.

He could pretend it’s still all part of the plan, couldn’t he? A well-crafted manipulation, a perfect performance designed to worm his way deeper into Puck’s affections, to tie the man to him with invisible strings. After all, wasn’t that the goal from the start? To seduce, to make Puck fall for him, protect him, feed him, love him. But this has gone far beyond that now.

❛ This one’s bite is far worse than mine, ❜ Astarion quips, though his eyes are still locked on Puck, his voice quiet, almost reverent. He’s speaking to Araj, but in truth, she’s already fading into the background. She doesn’t matter. Not compared to the man standing between them. Fuck. This is going to be a problem. His heart is swelling with something he’s not ready to name, something that curls with the sharp talons of fear. He’s going to have to talk to Puck when they’re back at camp, isn’t he? Because the truth is becoming too hard to bury, too hard to swallow. He’s in love with him. Astarion, who had long abandoned the notion of love, who had scorned it, manipulated it, used it like a weapon——has somehow fallen for the reckless, violent, beautiful man who stands between him and the world.

How could this happen? And more importantly… how could he tell him the truth?

Fear flickers in his chest, cold and biting, mingling with the warmth of that burgeoning affection. Astarion knows that Puck is dangerous. That much is obvious. But what scares him most is that Puck is dangerous in a way no one else has ever been——he could hurt Astarion, not with a blade, but with something far worse. With rejection. Astarion swallows the lump in his throat, his smirk slipping into something softer as his hand drops back to his side. This is too much. Too much for a man who has spent centuries surviving by keeping everyone at arm’s length. But here he is, standing behind the one person who, with a single word, could shatter everything he’s built around himself. A conversation will need to be had, and he dreads it.

But more than that——he dreads the idea of staying silent, of letting these feelings fester until they become unbearable. When it breaks free… he has no idea what it will destroy.

[bloodtwin]

He barks a laugh. ❝ Hey, that's cute. Still went the wrong way, though. ❞

Kicking a rock down the steep cliff that led into gloomy nothingness, he leans forward slightly to listen for it hit the bottom. When it never does, he backs away from the edge before continuing to pester her. He's not entirely stupid.

❝ Y'know, I could watch you go in circles all day myself, but I don't think the others will be as amused. So, uh . . . do you want my help now or not ？ ❞

"Do you know what the punishment for questioning the competency of royalty is in my home, Puck? Branding, followed by torture."

[bloodtwin]

puck does not seem to notice the internal struggle rook faces against his urges, distracted by his own, nor does he seem to detect rook's true intentions with him. he always tries his best to see the good in others, perhaps a bit too eager to trust at times. 

❝ of course i have your back, ❞ he says immediately, not waiting for rook to question such a thing. rook’s reassurance & the physical contact, the arm around him, soothes him just enough to knock down any walls he’s left standing. ( not that there were many left at that point . . . ) puck’s grip on the bell tightens before he slips it into his pocket. for now, the urge within slumbers relatively peacefully, his faith in himself reinvigorated once more. 

he can do this. he can handle this. rook will stop him if he starts to slip, and then he’ll come back to himself. no harm done. no more harm done ever again. he almost smiles at the thought, but then he nearly trips when rook speaks again. 

PROBABLY WOULD HAVE . . .  ？puck’s brain works overtime to process the sudden shift in conversation. rook has such a way of catching him off guard. and such a way with his words, too. 

well, it’s not like puck has much room to talk, considering the unprompted comments he tends to make. still, that wasn’t quite what he expected to come out of rook’s mouth. ( this must be what it’s like to interact with himself on a regular basis. )

❝ i ⸻ ❞ probably would have done the same. 

puck’s eyebrows furrow. he shakes his head. ignoring the rest of rook’s statement, he nods. ❝ yes, it’s all very sad how easily manipulated we mortals can be.  ❞ he speaks earnestly, staring down at the drider's corpse with pity. oh, if only he understood the irony behind his words.  

❝ i don’t think bringing him back is wise. why would you want to do that ？still planning on fucking him ？❞

it would be a lie to claim that his mouth did not water at the thought of ripping someone's tongue out . the slimy thing covered in crimson stain as the victim can't do anything but let out agonizing wheezes . what a funny sight .

he manages to swallow down the impulse to do so . he's better now . he now has puck to do such deed . gone are days his nails are ruined with dried up blood or his favorite ensemble ruined with blood splatters .

puck will be his best creation yet . he will be the monster that will make him a hero . put his name in glory and be the center of everyone's admiration . all he has to do is feed in to his desires . conceal his vicious plan with sweet words of affirmation .

a relived smile fosters his features . he honestly can't think of words to thread together to convince puck to take the bell . he wonders what gruesome ways puck would do to the annoying pixie . personally , he would pluck off it's wings , then proceed to flicking off its sharp tongue so it can no longer play cruel tricks . yes , flick it's sharp tongue off . a smile triggers to form but he suppresses it as he snaps himself back .

how can i make puck remove that pixie's tongue ? he thought to himself .

" i promise , puck . i got your back and you got mine ... right ? i need you as much as you need me . " he smiles as he swings an arm around puck , pulling the other close and rubbing the side of his arm . " we will not make our father proud , " he grins .

" i feel bad for the fella' . he's probably just a victim of some god like us . if he wasn't such a bitch , i would have fucked him " he let's out a laugh as he leads puck to look at the slained drider . " maybe we can find someone to bring him back to life . a necromancer ? some spore people ? "

[bloodtwin]

his companions seemed less than happy when puck willingly, knowingly took a sip of the spiked wine offered to him. he’d smelled it almost immediately: klauthgrass—truth serum. it had actually been his first real taste of alcohol in his current ( admittedly short ) waking memory, having avoided it for… personal reasons. there’s a faint warmness lingering in his chest now. his tongue feels slightly looser, but he thinks that’s because of the truth serum, not the drink. surely this will have no consequences or repercussions.

he can’t blame jaheira for being cautious. having no intentions of lying in the first place, puck doesn’t see why he wouldn’t indulge her in order to earn her trust properly. maybe that’s why astarion had called him NAIVE the other day. oh, well. it turned out all right in the end. well, not all right. he suddenly feels as if the weight of the entire world rests on his shoulders, but all things considered, he thinks he wears it rather well. ( is that egotistical? maybe a bit self-destructive? both? ) 

at the moment, he’s more focused on the simultaneous relief & dread he feels upon seeing the tiefling refugees from the grove wandering about. relief because he is glad to see them and dread because he only sees so many of them. the dread deepens as he remembers alfira, her absence a glaring, bleeding void in the center of the room. a chill runs down his spine, and his stomach twists into knots. would she have been here too, if not for him?

he doesn’t have time to wallow in his own shame & regret, for someone he doesn’t recognize approaches. that’s a nasty scar, he thinks but does not say. not that he thinks that to be a bad thing. it makes the stranger look mysterious & rugged, if he may say. handsome, in a dangerous way. which he likes. though this man seems a bit standoffish for someone making the effort to introduce himself.  

his eyes flit from the scar, narrowly avoiding eye contact to settle somewhere slightly past the other man’s face entirely. he’s been known to give people MIGRAINES with a simple glance, so he tries to avert his gaze as much as possible. unfortunately, this can make him seem suspicious. maybe that’s why he always tries so hard to be honest. he has so much absolutely nothing to hide. 

a small, polite smile tugs at puck’s mouth. ‘ oh, you know, the usual. shadow curses, illithid tadpoles, cults. a past i can never go back to but am relentlessly haunted by. ’ his own eyebrows shoot up at the last part. he didn’t mean to say that. his eyes narrow slightly, and he mutters, ‘ hm. klauthgrass… ’

Last Light Inn was a literal haven in an otherwise ...challenging landscape. Arawn hadn't had a choice but to come here, the only way to Baldur's Gate was through the shadow-cursed lands, and he had to get to Baldur's Gate. No matter what, his little girl was there and he would do anything he had to to get back to her.

Even if that meant leaving his humanity behind. Which...it was quickly starting to look like that would be the price.

It's alright.

(It isn't. But it will be. It has to be.)

Arawn spends his time at Last Light alternating between going out on missions for the Harpers, with which he's made a tentative alliance, and drinking far too much to forget the fact that he can feel divinity slipping in bit by bit. He was able to manifest wings yesterday, spectral things, they only lasted for a minute, but they were there.

He's drinking when the alert goes up and a man and his very motley crew is dragged in, Jaehira grills them for a bit, but then they apparently pass muster because they are given free run of the place.

Arawn finishes the rest of his drink, and then rises. Allies were difficult to come by in the shadow-cursed land, so he forced himself to be sociable when they came by. Also....this group's leader...there was something about him. Something that had the hair standing up on the back of his neck. He shook it off.

"Welcome to our little haven in hell," he says. "What brings you here, friend?"

@bloodtwin

[bloodtwin]

ripped the bloody tongue out. what an idea, and said so lightly. so recklessly. images flash behind puck's eyes: rook, clutching his mouth as an endless river of blood gushed. half of his severed tongue discarded in the dirt, the other half clamped tight in puck’s maw. almost breathless, he shudders, unsure if the sensation comes from irritation or pleasure.

does rook not realize the danger of such a flippant admission ?  his ability to control himself must be far better than puck’s if he can speak so freely.  something must be WRONG with me . . .  the touch of rook’s hand on his keeps him grounded; the red outlining his vision fades, making way for clarity. his stomach drops as the bell slips into his palm. as if it burnt, puck nearly drops it, but both of rook’s hands trap it in his grasp. 

i trust you.

those words make him melt, better judgment whisked away in an instant. puck’s fingers fold in on the bell.

a stiff, almost queasy smile pulls at his mouth. there is genuine relief, yet he is still nervous all the same. he doesn’t want to hurt anyone. doesn’t want to be put in a position where he so easily could. but rook trusts him; puck wants that to count for something. he wants to prove that he can do this. he can rein himself in; he can be like rook. he can, he can, he can.

‘ okay,   ’  he says softly. he will trust rook.  ‘ okay, but- promise me something ?  if you see me start to lose myself, please stop me.   ’

a triumphant smile is suppressed from appearing . he makes an effort to maintain the sympathetic look on his face . careful not to let his mask slip even for a moment . last thing he wants is start at the beginning with puck . it seems that he is slowly winning him over . a little more patience and he'd have him as his very own puppet . he can keep his hands clean while he does the work .

he'd be a saint . soon to be a hero who had slain the monster . all those things would have to wait . he first needs to make puck the biggest monster faerun has ever known .

" there's no need for you to be sorry . you reacted appropriately . i am at fault as well . i got the reaction i deserve , " he places a hand on puck's shoulder . reassuring him his reaction is okay . " i would have probably reacted the same way back then ... or even worse . i would have ripped the bloody tongue out , " he chuckles . he remembers how a description of such a vile act could trigger the urges their beloved father cursed them with . nothing wrong with giving it some crumbs , right ?

a warm smile stretches on his lips . he moves forward and reaches for puck's hand . he places the bell inside his palm and closed his hands around it . he looks at puck , " you should . i trust you . i know you will make the right decision and like i said , i'll help you , " the gentlest of smile present .

both his hands holding puck's , making sure he takes the bell . " she's a good taste for patience . "