#''sarula like--'' yes like that sarula

[leavingautumn13]

another batch of npcs in this spelljammer campaign, this time focused on some early game quest givers [first batch here]. details under the cut

[i have commissions open now]

[frenchy-and-the-sea]

14, 22, 45, 75!

Eyyy, thank you Milo! I do Val AND Esme, for you. 😘

Has your character ever been in love?

Val: Yes, currently. Also yes, previously, but it was short lived and she's very aware now that it wouldn't have worked. (She has also broken a few hearts; namely, the heart of the poor boy that she first got intimate with. Kid recovered fine in the end, but she felt bad LMAO.)

Esme: Yes, deeply. Probably too deeply. Definitely too deeply.

What animal best represents your character?

Val: I feel like I've definitely done a daemon read for Val before so if this contradicts it then y'know, ignore me. BUT. I feel like she's kinda got some Staffordshire Terrier energy. (And I'm NOT just saying that cause I have one.) Idk, maybe the "loyal dog" trope is a bit too easy, but Val's not especially complex! She's fairly easygoing, a little goofy, can be a bit lazy in her off time, but she's a workhorse when she needs to be and strong as all fuck. Plus, yeah, she's real goddamn loyal.

Esme: This is another that I feel like is just too boldly obvious, but I think Esme is a hummingbird. The sheer agility, vigor and constant movement of those little birds really just suits. Plus, they basically fall into short-term hibernation every night to keep their metabolic rate from killing them? If that's not a direct analog to her meditation habits, I don't know WHAT is.

What is your character’s most recent or frequent nightmare?

Val: Most recent was definitely one of those memory-dreams that ran parallel to the time she got possessed and attacked her friends! There's a lot of things that Val has learned to do the last few months, but she still feels very vulnerable mentally. And carrying around an aspect of our BBEG in a bottle has got her worrying about it again.

Esme: Weirdly, it's a dream about drowning. Except it's not really a dream about drowning because Esme doesn't really know what that feels like. So what is really is, is a dream about sinking down into something she can't get out of, which usually still takes the form of water. In the worst ones, there are familiar faces just over the surface, they can see her, and they do absolutely nothing to help.

If your character had the chance to rename the party/give the party a name, no questions asked, what would it be?

Val: You think VAL has any better ideas? No. She's glad that no one really needed her opinion on the matter because she's got No Thoughts. (That said, she thinks calling the tief trio 'The Luck of the Devil' is very funny, and thinks that Rona and Sarula can be made honorary tieflings to join in if they wanted.)

Esme: The minute someone points out that the party initials make 'AATEE,' she's gonna want an 8 in the name somewhere. The fact that the campaign is set in Wildemount during the same timeframe as the M9 is just a bonus. (The 8 Of Clubs for their tendency to party is very good, but I think she could argue for The 8 of Cups for the same reason, and because it has a nice little tarot flare.)

But first, Esme's going to have to believe that everyone's gonna wanna stick around.

Send me questions about my d&d kids!

[dalish-farther-roam]

Tavern Training

A little down-time stuff for Amon “The Weary” during his house arrest, after a very difficult talk with one of the NPCs from his backstory.  Posted here at the urging of @colonelcupquake @frenchy-and-the-sea @villnis @phoenix-failing @themilokin @urdnotgrunt @kelseyofcake

             “Ok, now you’re just making things up, what purpose can this possibly serve?” Val said, as she entered the crowded tavern downstairs of the Lesan Inn. She and Tara stood side by side, Val’s hands on her hips, Tara’s arms crossed, watching Amon and Rona.

              Those two were balancing in the middle of the floor, on one foot with the other leg stretched out directly in front, their supporting leg bent to a ninety degree angle and their arms held in front and, in Amon’s case, his tail wrapped around his torso.

              “Balance is the point. Balance within and without.” Amon said.

              “And why is Rona doing this? I thought you were learning pole-fighting, yeah?”

              “Amon needs to meditate and I wanted to keep him company… somehow… it became this.” Rona said, her voice taught against the strain in her muscles. Sweat was forming on both their brows and the tavern patrons were starting to take bets as to who would fail first.

              “There’s a sort of game- sort of training we can do next, but this always came first. The Masters said it was to establish balance but we novices always thought it was just to tire us out first.”

              “Then why are you doing it if you don’t even think it helps?” Asked Tara.

              “For Balance” he said. “Depending on where we were, sometimes we’d be balancing over burning embers, or on loose rock or ice or at the edge of a windy cliff, but that’s harder to do in a tavern.”

              “For which I thank the gods!” Called the Innkeeper, which sent laughs rippling around the watching crowd.

              “Right, well we’re going to go do some shopping for potions and the like – do you all want anything?” Asked Val.

              “Health potions?” Said Rona.

              “Better tasting trail rations?” Said Amon.

              “No such thing,” Said Val, “but I’ll see what we can do.”

                When the rest of the party returned to the Inn, they found Rona standing before a large boulder that she or Amon must have rolled in from outside. It was slightly large than Rona herself was. As they stepped inside, Amon spun around, whirling his booted foot into the boulder, which cracked, sending smaller pieces scattered around the room.

              There was a collective “oooh!” from the crowd, and Sarula watched as money changed hands. “What are you doing now?” they said as Rona cursed and Amon pulled his arms into his body, gathering the scattered pieces of earth into a solid boulder again.

              “Ok, ready? You take it now.” He said, and Rona dropped into a low stance, her feet spread wide, arms half outstretched, concentrating on the boulder. As she did so the others could see the boulder begin to shrink, the earth groaning, Rona’s face scrunching with effort.

              This time Amon stepped forward and slammed a steel-knuckled fist straight into it. The boulder wobbled but didn’t move or break. He punched again, and again. Small pieces were beginning to fly off, cracks forming. He rose a leg straight into the air and brought his heel down like an axe atop the boulder as Rona’s body suddenly slumped, and the rock shattered into pieces.

              “If I find rocks on my floor, I’m charging you extra!” The Inkeep called now, but with a smile on his face as he filled tankards for the gathered crowd. Apparently Amon and Rona’s training had become somewhat of a spectator sport.

              “We’re training.” Rona said.

              “You’re connection to the elements is undeniable, and the power you wield it with is overwhelming” Amon said to her, “but there is another power within the elements, and within you and the air, the gods and the planes. You cannot simply wield it like a god and overwhelm your enemies, or the environment, because it is in them too.”

              “That old lady really got to you, huh?” Said Tara.

              “She echoed what I’d heard often.” He said. “Ianry understands, that’s how fire feels, right? Almost like another heartbeat?”

              Ianry shrugged. “I guess, I don’t know what life is like without feeling that so how would I know?”

              Amon flicked his tail at him.

              Rona looked up at Amon. “I know that, I can feel it too but I don’t know what you mean by not wielding it like power. I learned to call in such a way that the wilds answer, but its also almost like alchemy – you call to a seed to sprout a vine, you call to the water in the soil and the air to make a tidal wave, you call to the little pieces of rock in a boulder, and it all condenses together.”

              Amon looked at her quizzically. “So that’s how you do it? That’s fascinating. I get that, to walk over walls I just kind of focus on the earth under my feet, and the air around me and sandwich myself between them, but it is already there. I hadn’t really thought of it like a science though.”

              “Yeah, what you’re talking about sounds more like Ianry’s magic.” Rona said, frowning.

              “Sort of, you can learn it though. It becomes more like… a relationship? Like when you look into someone’s eyes and you can feel what they feel, if only for a second.” He said.

              Rona and Val inadvertently locked eyes. “I think… maybe I think I can understand that.” Rona said.

              “Wait, so you’re like, having sexual tension with a rock?” Ianry said. “That’s not at all what I do.”

              Amon ignored him and squared up with Rona again. “Ready?” She nodded. “Remember, it isn’t about answering power, its about a relationship – two parts of one energy seeking balance.”

               They repeated the process until Rona was physically falling over when her rock was shattered.

              “Ok, I think you all could use a break and a snack.” Val said, from the table where the rest of the party had been resting and watching.

              “No! I think I figured something out!” Rona said through gritted teeth. She rose to her feet again and looked at Amon. “This is like fighting right?”

              Amon nodded “It can be.”

              “Ok, I think I’ve got it, lets go again!” She said, bracing herself before the boulder.

              Amon swung is foot up again in another axe-kick – the kind his friends had seen shatter bones, and brought his steel-clad heel crashing down. But instead of a crunch or crack, there was a soft “ptch” as his foot landed it what had suddenly become a pillar of sand. He wrenched his foot out and spun around, swinging the back of his fist towards – nothing, as the pillar of sand collapsed onto the ground. Not losing his balance, he shifted into an open stance and swept his tail at the loose sand, which pulled together into a round boulder which rolled away before becoming vaguely cubical and shuddering to a halt.

              Amon grinned ear to hear, gazing down at Rona who looked up at him with a fierce and wild expression. “It takes most of us at least a week to figure that one out. Now the real fun begins.”

              For the next few hours the pair took turns using whatever strategy they could think of to protect the boulder the others attacks. Amon often hardened just the part of the boulder facing the blow, while Rona swiftly transformed the rock to avoid attacks. Both were fans of suddenly turning it into a sphere and letting it roll across the tavern floor while patrons gleefully lifted their chairs out of the way. Eventually they even split it into two large rocks and let their friends and random patrons take turns trying to shatter it. There was little either of them could do but dodge when Tara broke out her Crab Hammer, which routinely showered those in the “splash zone” with pebbles.

              Only when Amon slipped on the puddle of sweat that had formed beneath them did the Innkeep insist the games end. Rona rolled out the boulders and Amon used rags to clean the sweat from the floor, too tired to use his ki magic.

              “Well, my star pupil, I don’t know about you but I’m taking a long bath.” He said, slinging his tail around Rona’s shoulders as they headed upstairs.

              “Ugh, me too. Do you feel better?” She said, tugging at the tuft of hair at the end of his tail to keep it out of her face.

              He whipped his tail side to side and paused on the stairs for a moment. “Yes, things make more sense, I think.”

              “You think? So I’m guessing more of this tomorrow?” She said, smiling at him over her shoulder.

              He grinned back. “If you’re up for it – you’ve got a lot of work to do yourself.”

              “MMmmmaybe” she said “Or maybe I’ll whip up a nice big lunch and just watch, I’m starving.”

              Down in the tavern, Sarula was smiling up at their retreating bodies. “That doesn’t make any sense to me, but I’m glad they’re doing ok.” They said to the party.

              “Monks relaxing looks exhausting.” Said Tara. “And messy.” She fished a small pebble out of her drink.

              “Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m ready to turn in for the night.” Val said hurriedly, already halfway up the stairs.  

              “I’m not!” Said Ianry “You guys want to play cards or something?”

              “Now that sounds more my speed!” Said Ievos, pulling up a chair next to Sarula. “What do you say?”

              Sarula grinned. “Sure, now that its actually quiet enough to play.”

                Upstairs, Amon was in his room alone, staring into the bright blade of the sword he called the Taiyang Jian, the “Sunlit Sword.” In his mind he weighed the teachings of his Order, echoed by Urgath. He saw the Planes in a constant dance of entropy, crashing into temporary balance before sending each other spinning off again into one another’s gravity. He saw his mother walking into the woods to find him, his sisters slung on each hip. He saw the yawning portal of water breaking loose of the mirror’s frame, his friends embroiled in battle against the Aboleth, and the shadows retreating from the swinging blade of light above the Black Dragon’s seal. He imagined Urgath’s hut in flames, the hate in the old captain’s eyes, recalled his own burning rage.

              Which way would the balance fall? Would the world be ready? And who was leaning on the scale?

[urdnotgrunt]

I think I already know Sarula pretty well, so LET'S TALK SILK. What's their favorite memory from either adventuring or their family? Do they have a comfort place that they retreat to when things get tough? What are their favorite types of music to play?? Can we get our air genasi to meet so that Zephyr can be a total shit to Silk and then get vicious mockeried to zero HP?

YES THANK YOU FRENCHY

so silk doesn’t get along with their fam that well. at least the ones still alive and living in their hometown. BUT when they were smaller, silk used to have a pet black chicken that was like the most gorgeous thing (they were raised on a wheat farm with a couple of animals), and since their older brother feliks was in charge of the family’s animal’s care, he taught silk how to properly care for their chicken and so that was nice.

they always go back to music when needing to be comforted. whether it’s music that they play for others, or just playing alone by themselves in a tavern room, music has always been a fallback for silk. music was their for silk when they got into arguments with their dad, music is their for them when they’re feeling lonely. and for physical retreats, silk is very much a traveler at heart, so in whatever city they’re in, they’ll try to find the most crowded bar and just........soak it in. the extrovert in them just LOVES to be surrounded by people in a bustling place, typically where they can forget what was troubling them.

silk’s favorite type of music to play is anything on the pan flute. it was the first instrument they learned how to play when they met a travelling bard who gave them their first pan flute and taught them their first little diddy. they like playing pieces that have some effect on an audience. so anything that will make people dance, sing, cry (tho they tend to turn to their violin to evoke that particular feeling), etc is right up silk’s alley.

um yES PLEASE tho silk’s vicious mockeries are.......pretty awful. like their best one was telling strahd that he was ugly. so

[frenchy-and-the-sea]

Oh my god, poor Leandra! 

I feel like that’s a conundrum you get into with really, wholly GOOD characters, cause d&d just by its nature tends to be a bit uhhhh. Morally grey? Violent? Prone to killing and political conflicts that often involve killing? It can be hard to reconcile with the “necessary” and the “right.” (Side note: I’m so glad she’s been tagging on the fact that it still hurt her though, regardless of how “necessary” her possession was. That’s self respect and healing, baby!!) Did anyone notice how Leandra reacted? Would she be uncomfortable talking about it? Is she worried that opening up about how she feels would open her up to having to talk about what happened to her? And does the fact that at least Silas seemed uncomfortable help at all?? I feel like this situation might have a tendency to get worse before it gets better until she can sort of better establish what her personal boundaries are regarding how people who take advantage of others should be punished. And that’s gonna take a sit down that she might not have time for. I hope so, though! And I hope her party are there to help her figure it out!

Oh yes, Val loves her tiny girlfriend lmao. I say specifically that she took a shine to Rona when they met because Rona actually joined the group later. Fortune’s Favor has had a host of roster changes through the last three years, but the core group that started the campaign - and are still around - are Val, Amon, the tiefling 4 Elements monk and Sarula, our half-elf/half-dwarf bard/cleric multiclass. They met fighting over a contract opportunity to protect a caravan, and ended up just stumbling into one conflict after the other. Val initially did NOT trust Amon - partly a personal bias, partly because his first suggestion to dealing with an unruly bandit was to cut his tongue out - but he was also the first one to reach out to her after she had a really rough night, and they’ve kind of accepted each other as near-to-blood siblings ever since. Sarula is...difficult, if not IMPOSSIBLE not to like and absolutely the best-tempered among us, so they kind of held the group together while we worked on our growing pains. Rona joined us probably five or six sessions in, I think? We had been sent to find some NPCs who had hired her on for her tracking expertise. Val had the absolute worst battle she’d ever had with the group that day, but meeting Rona was this bright shining spot in the middle of it all. She’s never quite been anything but dazzled since then LMAO.

Our roster has changed a bit since then, but our newest permanent member is another tiefling monk by the name of Kadota. He hasn’t been with us long enough to like...really get into shenanigans with, but I have a feeling that once we start getting back to our old rambling ways, Val and Amon will draw him into sparring, haha. Sarula, our very dutiful support class, tends to avoid getting in among the sparring because they stay out of most physical combat, but Rona has been training a lot with Amon - which her player used to justify taking the polearm mastery feat, since Amon has been working with her - so there are certainly some tag-team moves in the works! Mostly little things, like Rona playing mount to keep the non-monk members of our party mobile, but we’ve hedged on using some more interesting things before! Val, Amon and a previous member of the group did the “Get Help!” move from Thor: Ragnarok on a hag once. Opinions vary on how well it went, LMAO

@frenchy-and-the-sea Ooooh! Zephyr sounds so cool! (also, I just want to say, I love that name :D ). 

A noble rebel genasi! Is she from a genasi country or more of a melting pot kind of place? How does her background play into the way she usually gets treated? How does she feel about that? What makes her relationship with her mother so icy?

Also, would you be ok with me drawing her? And if yes, could you give me a few more details about her appearance?

[frenchy-and-the-sea]

FF - Promises, Promises

Sometimes an offhand comment in the middle of a session means nothing, and sometimes, it means everything. Val might have some issues that she needs to work out.

~1500 words

———–

“Did you mean what you said before?” Rona asked suddenly.

She walked at Val’s side down Marq’s cobbled streets, several feet behind where Amon was performing impetuous bows in Sarula’s direction as she blushed and swatted him away.

“About knighting Sarula?” Val asked, watching them with a distant grin. She squeezed the last little bit of steaming bathwater out of her hair and tossed it over her shoulder with a shrug. “I mean, if anyone besides that little beast in the Faewild recognizes the authority of ‘the Queen of the Sea’ then sure -”

“Not that,” said Rona, and something in her tone made Val’s heart plummet. She glanced down and found the halfling focused straight ahead, her mouth a hard, stubborn line. “I meant what you said to Dia.”

Val’s stomach sank to join her heart. Even looking away, Rona looked thoroughly, genuinely upset; a mirror of the expression she’d worn when Amon’s sister had all but threatened Val to keep an eye on him, and when Val had promised to die trying.

“Rona,” she said gently, “I was trying to reassure her, that’s all. I just meant that I’d make sure he came back -”

“That’s not what you said, though.”

They turned a corner and stepped into the shadow of the Tilted Towers, just as Amon and Sarula pulled the door open. Val cleared her throat and summoned an unsteady imitation of a smile as they turned to wait.

“You go ahead,” she said, waving them inside. “We’re, uh, going to get a drink.”

“A drink?” Amon stepped out of the path of the doorway and back towards them, incredulous. “We should have stayed at the afterparty, then! I thought you said that we shouldn’t -”

“Of course!” Sarula interrupted before he could go on, elbowing Amon hard enough in the ribs to make him flinch. He opened his mouth to protest again and was silenced as she snatched him by the shoulders. “Just let us know when you’re back! Have fun!”

Without waiting for a response, she swung him around and steered him back inside the inn, ignoring his increasing protests as the door fell shut behind them. Val turned back to Rona with a weak smile and shrugged.

“I hear there’s a good place to, uh, get a drink outside the night market?” she suggested, more question than statement. Rona just nodded, and followed her silently back into the street.

The night was not empty - port cities rarely ever were - but some of the hills that loomed down over the docks gave the appearance of it. Several minutes of silent trekking brought them to the crest of a hilltop tucked between a few sparsely decorated houses of flat white stone, all with decorated porches and decidedly unlit windows. From the street and from the cliffs above the city, they would be virtually invisible.

Rona took a seat in the grass and began toying absently with it, refusing to look up. Val watched in silent wonder as a halo of flowers - bright yellow ones, with big black centers - began to uncoil from the dirt around her. They appeared in rings, one right after the other, until Rona was seated in a small throne of flowers.

“You said that you’d die before he did,” she said finally. Val blinked awake, shaking off her momentary awe by the bitterness in Rona’s voice.

“Well, yes,” she said dumbly. “Yes, of course I did. Hells, Rona, that’s true for any of you. Don’t tell me that all of this is jealousy -”

“But why?” Rona clenched a fist and several of the beautiful little flowers wilted in an instant. “Why is that the first and only thing you think that you can do? Why can’t you just say that you’ll do your best and be fine with that?”

Val felt a little twinge of irritation rise in her chest. “It’s her brother, Rona. She’s only just found him again, after several years of not knowing that he even existed! You think that she’s going to be satisfied with just a little -”

“I don’t care!” The rest of the flowers began collapsing too now, curling back into dust with a fervor. “I don’t care if it’s not enough for her. I don’t care if it’s not enough for anybody! You don’t have to kill yourself over it, Val! You don’t have to promise your life!”

“I’m not!” Val snapped, bristling to match her tone. “But I promised to protect people, understand? And if we stumble across someone in danger, I’m not going to stand back and watch just because it might hurt me -”

“But that’s not what you said!” 

Rona’s voice retreated into a near-whisper by the end of the word, shaking so hard that Val could see it rattling through her shoulders. She was standing in the center of the hilltop now, a circle of dead flowers coiled in a mass around her feet, staring up at Val from the height of her waist. It felt rather like she was ten feet tall, and staring down.

“You said that you would die before Amon did,” she said, almost too quietly to hear. “Not that you’d protect him no matter what. Not that you’d help whenever he needed it. You just promised to be the first thing to go. What was I supposed to think?” 

Val opened her mouth to reply, but it was like her entire litany of Common had suddenly abandoned her all at once. Rona watched her gaping, silent, then sighed and sank slowly back into the grass again.

“I do admire that you try to protect people, Val. Honestly, I do. But don’t you know how much that scares us? Scares me? Do you think that you’re only worth something to us as a shield? Are we… am I not worth sticking around for?”

Her voice got very small then, and Val’s heart, which had relocated itself somewhere in the vicinity of her pelvis, suddenly felt like it had been torn in half. She sank down onto her knees and grabbed Rona’s hand as her words came back to her in a flurry.

“You are!” she said frantically. “Gods and all, Rona, of course you are! You - all of you, of course, but you especially - you’re the single best thing to have ever happened to me. I don’t know how I ended up with this life, or with our friends, or with you, but I’m fucking grateful, understand? Panic and near death aside, I’m happier here than I’ve been in years. I would give anything - everything - to keep it. That’s why I just…” She broke off with a shaky sigh and then slowly lowered her head to press her lips to the back of Rona’s hand. “I want you to be okay, always. I want to make sure that you’re safe. Damn everything else.“

A long silence fell behind her words. Then, slowly, the hand beneath her cheek turned to cup itself beneath her chin, and pull her up to face Rona’s weak little half-smile.

“That sounds like it’d be much easier to do when you’re alive, don’t you think?”

Val choked out a strangled laugh, as sincere as she could make it, and leaned into the hand that pulled her forward into a crushing hug. Rona’s lips pressed into the part of her hair just between her horns, and stayed there for a long, long time.

“I don’t want you to stop trying to help people, Val,” said Rona at last, her voice muffled by hair. “Also, I’m pretty sure that you would explode if you tried. I just… I don’t want you thinking that the only way you can do it is by being the first dam to break, okay? Your scars are very cool, but I would be just as happy to see you with less of them.”

“You just said that they’re cool, though,” Val muttered into the crook of Rona’s neck. “Shouldn’t I want more, then? How am I supposed to take that?”

Rona laughed and ruffled the still-damp hair that her hands were tangled into. "You’re supposed to listen to me, and not be contrary about it.”

“Now, that doesn’t seem fair.”

They sat for a long moment like that, giggling nervously and curled up in one another, trying to quell the lingering, rushing fear of their first argument. Then, finally, Val pulled away.

“I can’t guarantee any sort of calmness if there’s danger around,” she said, wrapping a hand over Rona’s, “but I’m going to try not to scare you anymore, okay? I'm… I’m going to be here, gods willing.”

“Fuck the gods,” Rona said, ignoring Val’s scandalized gasp. “You’re going to be here, you willing, okay? Gods be damned.”

“Alright,” said Val skeptically, “but it’s gonna be a lot harder to do that if you keep bad mouthing the guy who heals me, don’t you think?”

They left behind a fresh ring of wildflowers at Val’s insistence, and made their way back to the Tilted Towers in a much more companionable silence than when they’d left. And that night, curled up against one another in their meager inn bed, they slept with the smallest fingers of their hands crossed together, locked in a promise that they did not break once.

[frenchy-and-the-sea]

POI - Strange Magic

A few days ago, doing our weekly trip to Disney, @colonelcupquake and I discussed a few things about our d&d kids, and about all the ways in which their growing relationship is...growing. This is what spawned from me thinking too much about what that meant.

Set in current game time, while the idiots are helping our resident monk through house arrest. 2,200 words.

If asked, Val wouldn’t have been able to count high enough to number all of the moments that made her miss her parents most.

There had been plenty in the early years - after selling the wagon, and then the horses, every time she had made her own coffee, Gavaar’s heavy silence on a long travel road - but the newer ones didn’t seem to dig any less deeply. Dandelions still made her sigh; the sight of Amon bent over his alchemist’s kit still made her heart clench just a little too hard.

And she knew, so bitterly that it hurt, that at least her father would have known exactly what to do with Rona Greenbottle.

He had left her some notion of it, of course. His telling - and frequent retellings, at a younger Val’s incessent requests - of how he had met her mother carried the notes of romance so thickly that even she couldn’t have missed them. But Cairon Hillcrest had also been one of the lucky sort who hadn’t made himself the company of his lady love for the better part of a year, who didn’t spend a harrowingly frequent amount of that time dragging her into danger, and who had at least had the fucking decency to know more about her than her name, and her strength, and the bright, sunshine sweetness that had captured his attention in the first place.

Val glaced up over the top of the book she was not reading to where Rona was settled on the floor of their collective room, pawing through the pile of satchels around her with the keen slowness of someone who knew exactly what she was looking for. She pulled a tough looking stalk as thick as two fingers from one, and Val watched, enthralled, as she deftly slashed it open and stuffed a coffee bean inside.

Her staring must have been the weighty sort, because after a moment, Rona’s mouth curled into a smile.

“Yes?” she said without looking up. Val instinctively tucked back into her book, feeling a rush of heat up her neck.

“Nothing,” she said automatically. She stole a glance around her book’s edge and found Rona looking back out of the corner of her eye, grinning. The heat on her neck grew warmer. “I just, ah...I was just wondering what you were doing.”

“Just that?” Rona asked, with a pointed raise of an eyebrow. Val huffed.

“Well, I won’t say that I terribly mind the view either.”

Rona hummed in acknowledgment and turned back to her work, but Val noticed with a tiny thrill of delight that her cheeks had a much rosier tinge.

“They’re for spells,” Rona said at least. Her fingers worked carefully, now winding a thin piece of twine studded with apple seeds around a length of thorny vine. “You’ve seen me using them before, haven’t you?”

“Here and again,” said Val, as she set her book aside. No use hiding behind it now; and besides, she had only caught as much of Rona’s casting as the corner of her eye allowed. With her own recent foray into magic, it seemed of dire importance that she actually try to listen.

Not to mention that Rona seemed rather pleased at the attention; she straightened as Val leaned forward, and shifted to face her.

“I decided that I should start prepping some of my components early,” she said, nodding towards the vine clipping that she was turning over in her hands. “I used to do most of these on the fly, but I figure now that I’ve got to try to keep up with you, and Tara, and Amon…”

“Mostly him, I'm sure,” Val said with a wry smile. “I’ve just taken to making sure the red blur is still moving instead of trying to keep track of him.”

“Well, I'd still rather be fast enough that I don’t catch him in this.”

With one swift motion, Rona suddenly wrenched a hand sideways and tugged the vine taught around her palm, so tightly that Val could see the thorns digging little dents into the meat of it. A soft green glow began to pulse from between her fingers, coiling down the length of the vine, and before she could blink, Val suddenly found herself in the center of a mass of woody tendrils creeping over the edge of the bed towards her.

“Don't worry,” said Rona when Val instinctively scrambled back. She waved a hand, and the vines suddenly curled away like a receding wave, and then crumbled to dust. “I don't use those on people I like if I can help it. You know, unless they want me to.”

She winked at that, and grinned, and the heat that had started to fade on Val’s neck suddenly came roaring back to life. She managed to keep her face carefully neutral as she tucked that particular thought away for later perusal.

“So, that’s, uh, that’s how your magic works, is it?” she said after a moment, coughing delicately to disguise the hitch in her voice. “You just sort of stick things together and - ”

“Not quite.” The little laugh in Rona's voice staggered as she cut Val off, just a touch too sharply to be casual. “It’s a little more involved than that, actually.”

Frowning, Val stole a glance down, and the peculiar tightness at the corners of Rona’s smile suddenly brought the memory of the conversation in the mine - with Sarula’s arms still wrapped around Rona’s weary shoulders and a too-casual shrug from Ianry - screaming back like a train car.

“Oh, Rona,” she said softly. Rona didn’t look up, just pursed her lips and stared fixedly at the floor. “Rona, love, you know I don’t think that’s all you do, right? Look, I might be an idiot, but even I know it takes work to pull miracles out of your ass on a regular basis. I just don’t understand the shape of it, hey? And I...” She hesitated. “And I would like to, if you can stand a few more stupid questions.”

Rona said nothing for a long moment, turning the vine absently in one hand. Then she sighed, and wilted like a breath suddenly exhaled.

“I know,” she said softly. “Sorry. Here, come sit with me.”

Val thanked Fharlanghn later for the distinct lack of witnesses to the way she nearly fell over herself getting off of the bed, and Rona, for her part, kindly avoided snickering.

“It’s not miracles so much as knowing what you’re trying to do,” she said once Val had settled across from her, hands folded in her lap like an attentive school child. She twirled the vine in her hand so it arched over her knuckles and held it out, gesturing to the tiny auburn seeds still tangled in twine around its surface. “Seeds are a plant’s life: they’re the first thing it needs to grow. So if I want vines to suddenly start growing out of the ground, and to wrap themselves around someone...”

She slowly threaded the vine back around her palm and made a big show of pulling it taught. Val hummed.

“It’s like a tether, then,” she said, with tentative understanding. “It sort of...makes a path from you to what you’re trying to control, yeah?”

“Exactly,” said Rona, and Val warmed at the brightness in her smile. “The components of a spell are just the vessel that you pour your intent into. That’s what makes magic happen. Not just ‘sticking things together.’”

She shot Val a pointed look, and nudged her playfully with a toe when she winced.

“Well, how was I supposed to know?” Val grumbled, making a big show of huffing and folding her arms. “I don’t even know what I’m doing, much less anyone else. I wasn’t born with magic.”

“I wasn’t either,” said Rona. Val raised an eyebrow. “What? Most people aren’t. Some of us give up everything just to learn.”

The current of heat burning under the last few words was difficult to miss, as was the way Rona’s eyes strayed to the door that Ianry had left through barely ten minutes prior. Val said nothing for a long moment, then slowly shifted closer.

“Everything, huh?” she asked. Rona’s shoulders sagged.

“My family didn’t exactly approve of the whole ‘running off to go play with magic plants’ business,” she said quietly. “And once I decided to go after my mentor…”

She trailed off, shrugging, and Val found that she could only nod. The few words of comfort she had suddenly felt achingly hollow in her ears; how could she even pretend that she understood losing a family that way, which left behind a looming shadow of unknowns that only grew with distance? She thought of her father, and all of the moments she had spent missing him, and she held them tighter still.

Eventually though, after a long muster of silence, Val rolled onto her knees, pushed some of the satchels aside, and shuffled over to where Rona was leaned against the wall. She only hesitated a moment before pressing an arm against hers.

“I don’t think Ianry meant any harm by what he said,” she said finally, “but it wasn’t fair anyway. You’re...you’re amazing Rona, in a hundred more ways than just what you can do with some thread and vines, but because of that, too. You’ve clearly worked your ass off to be as good as you are. You know, occasional misdirected ice knives aside.”

That earned her a chuckle, small but genuine, and Val felt her heart quicken as Rona slid sideways along the wall and rested a shoulder back against hers.

“That probably won’t happen again,” she said, with a thin smile. Val grinned.

“Wouldn’t matter even if it did, love. Accidents happen to all of us. But that doesn’t change the fact that you could set the ground around me on fire, and I’d trust that you’d put it out before anyone got hurt. You’re a damn fine druid Rona, but I admire your dedication to doing right even more.”

“Me?” Rona sat forward with the reddening cheeks and sudden, righteous indignation of someone whose only response to a compliment was to return it. “What about you? I've spent the last few months watching you fling yourself between us and every kind of monster that Cinderfells can dream up. I expect that I’ll spend the next few months doing the same thing. You want to talk to me about dedication? Protecting people is so natural to you, a god came down to help you do it!” She huffed and folded her arms over her chest. “No one has ever thought to ask why I like you, Val. You know why? It's because they haven’t needed to. Knowing you makes the reason plain enough.”

This time, the heat surging upwards bypassed Val’s neck completely and shot straight to her ears, which felt suddenly like they matched Amon’s in their shade.

“Well,” she said, when sense and her full grasp of Common finally returned, “now that’s hardly fair. See, I was under the distinct impression that I was complimenting you.”

Rona’s lips curled into a wry smile, her cheeks their own delightful shade of rose. “Funny how a conversation works, huh?”

They both buckled into a laugh, and whatever coy hesitation had been putting distance between them suddenly vanished like a mist in morning sun. Rona sank further against Val’s arm once she had collected herself, and leaned her head onto her shoulder.

“I should clean all of this up,” she said after a moment, gesturing to the piled satchels around them. “With any luck, we’re not going to be needing to burn a bunch of spells in the next few days anyway.”

“Don’t be so sure,” said Val, grinning. “We have a rather permanent history of getting ourselves into all manner of trouble. In fact, you might even need a whole other bag of…” She paused and grabbed the nearest satchel. “Acorns?”

Rona giggled. “I use those more for making friends with squirrels than for magic, if I’m honest.”

“Of course,” said Val, with a good-natured roll of her eyes as she let the satchel fall. “What I mean is, I still have plenty more stupid questions about magic, and I’m not so terrible at finding useful things in the woods. Mostly Sendran woods, to be fair, and mostly in the south, but I haven’t almost eaten poisonous berries since I was eight, which isn’t horrible when you think about it -”

“I was actually planning on gathering some things to bring Rosie back today,” Rona cut in, pulling away to grin up at her. “If you wanted to come along…?”

Val practically jumped to her feet, snatching her shield from where it was leaned against the bedside and slinging it onto her back. “Please. I’m already sick of this room, this inn and this whole bloody city. Let’s let it fend for itself for a little while, hey?”

“A date, then,” Rona agreed, grinning as she stood and then leaning forward to nudge Val with an elbow. “And maybe I’ll even let you hold the basket.”

[frenchy-and-the-sea]

POI - Arguments Lost

After posting that last writing thing, @colonelcupquake and I started talking about how stubborn both Val and Rona are, and about how Rona would always win their arguments because Val is a smitten, soft-hearted mess, and then....this happened.

About 800 words.

“We are not lost.”

Rona refrained from rolling her eyes a fifth time as Val fumbled with the unfurling of their map. Her compass dangled from a chain she had clenched between her teeth, and she was making a big show of grumbling about some navigational term or another around the width of it.

“It’s okay if you got turned around, you know,” said Rona after a moment, barely trying for patience now and letting her tone fall straight into smug. “It’s a big forest, and we’ve been walking for a while -”

“Turned around?” Val let the compass drop from her mouth into her hand, and turned with an indignant huff. “Rona, I tested my mettle on the ocean, with hundreds of miles of nothing but salt sea on all sides. No landmarks, no guides, and having to account for tacks changing every few hours. A forest is child’s play.”

Rona hummed. “And yet, there’s that rock that Rosie marked again. For the second time.”

Val’s head snapped around as she pointed towards the little stone, on which a spot of bright green moss curled unnaturally from the center. Val squinted down at it like it was somehow harder to see all of a sudden, her brow a furious bundle of knots.

“That’s…I mean, that could be any rock…”

Rona put every ounce of willpower she had into wrenching her laughter down into a very wide, very enthusiastic little grin, then held out a hand for the map. Val glanced down, pride warring with reason warring with a spark of wild affection behind her eyes. Then she sighed.

“Fine,” she grumbled, folding the map down again, “fine! You win. Get us out of here before we have to resort to hardtack. Or whatever might possibly be worse.”

Rona plucked the map delicately from Val’s outstretched hand, then dropped into a low bow as she backed away. Val just rolled her eyes, muttering something scathing under her breath in Infernal.

“Ohhh, don’t be like that,” Rona chuckled, nudging Val’s thigh. “You know I’m just teasing. I knew you’d figure it out eventually, but I can’t help that you’re weak.”

Val paused halfway through tucking her compass back into a pocket, cocking her head to one side like she’d just heard something very far away. “I’m what, now?”

“Weak,” Rona repeated, leaning into the word with a wry grin. “As in, you always give up first when -”

The last half of her sentence was swallowed in a tiny squeak of alarm, as two arms suddenly swarmed around her and lifted her clear off of her feet. She landed heavily on her stomach, slung over a wide, curved strip of metal that she recognized instantly as Val’s pauldron. She pushed, trying to scramble backwards, and only succeeded in tightening the hold of the arm around the small of her back.

“Val!” she shouted, kicking fruitlessly at the air. “Val!”

“Yes?”

Gods, she sounded so pleased with herself. Even her tail, which Rona could see from her place dangling down the back of her shoulder, twitched back and forth in a perfect imitation of a proud cat’s. She squirmed harder.

“Val, you put me down this instant! I am a lady!”

“Very true,” said Val, a grin plain in her voice. “And now, you are also upside down.”

She gave Rona’s back two firm pats, then tightened her hold further as the halfling kicked blindly outward again.

“Brute!” she cried, trying very hard not to laugh. “Fiend!”

“That was my grandfather, actually.”

Summoning as much of a growl as she could manage while giggling, Rona shrugged the quarterstaff strapped to her back down into her hands and began swinging haphazardly at the armored plating over Val’s ass. It connected once, then twice, each time with a satisfying thud and a sudden jump in the shoulder beneath her.

“Ow,” Val hissed, laughing, “ow! You little shit, that hurt!”

“Good!”

“Ahem.”

A third voice suddenly cut through their exchange, loud and heart-stoppingly familiar. They both froze mid-tussle, and turned slowly in unison to where Ianry was leaned up against a tree barely ten feet away, arms folded on his chest in a valiant imitation of annoyance. Peeking over his shoulders were the half-hidden forms of Tara, Amon and Sarula, all trying very hard not to laugh.

“Shit,” Rona heard Val mutter under her breath. Apparently, she had also forgotten about their gathered party waiting in the clearing a few paces away.

Ianry pushed off of the tree and stepped forward, somehow managing to keep a straight face as he held out a hand towards them.

“If you guys can’t go two seconds without flirting,” he said slyly, “maybe someone else should hold the map.”

[frenchy-and-the-sea]

urdnotgrunt replied to your post: hey guys, I’m having a pretty crappy morning so if...

okay so idk if you’ve noticed but literally any time sarula gets nervous or uncomfortable about a situation, she goes and glues herself to val. like val is her anchor and will protect her from anything bad

@urdnotgrunt ASDFJKLALSDKFJLA I JUST THOUGHT THAT WAS BECAUSE VAL WAS NEARBY OR WAS ALREADY GOING FULL PROTECTION FIGHTER I didn’t realize it was a conscious choice Sarula made!!!! ahhhh!!! I am soft and full of love and yes, of course Val would protect Sarula from ANYTHING BAD EVER. EVEN THINGS SHE CAN’T PUNCH IN THE FACE/BREAK THE ANKLES OF.

[urdnotgrunt]

i was tagged by @villnis to do this a while ago and never realized it D: SO HERE IT IS!! if anyone in the idiots hasn’t done this, i tag them, and also @bigbluekitty bc d&d

GENERAL

Name: Sarula Odalys Durothil

Alias(es): Sabine

Gender: genderfluid (she/her, they/them)

Age: 31

Place of birth: Eru’Tal, Aulairen

Spoken languages: common, elvish, dwarvish, celestial

Sexual orientation: atm, pansexual

Occupation: cleric of Milil, freelance bard, adventurer (the term is used loosely)

APPEARANCE

Eye color: silver

Hair color: black

Height: 5′2″

Scars: scarring marks on her right forearm from when an awakened tiger mauled her, but mostly everything else has been healed in enough time so a to not scar (sarula has made sure of it)

Burns: none that have scarred

Overweight: yes

Underweight: no

FAVOURITE

Color: blue

Hair color: all hair is pretty, but sarula is secretly enamored with amon’s white hair

Eye color: no preference

Entertainment: live music, there’s nothing better

Pastime: playing music, doing their hair, writing song snippets, trying on clothes (especially expensive ones), doing others’ hair, tending to the horses, window shopping

Food: breads, jams/preserves

Drink: any alcohol, but ESPECIALLY hard alcohol

Books: sarula’s not a big book person

HAVE THEY

Passed university: yes??? kinda???? not like a proper one tho

Had sex: no

Had sex in public: no

Gotten pregnant: no

Kissed a man: yes

Kissed a woman: yes

Gotten tattoos: no

Gotten piercings: yes

Had a broken heart: no

Been in love: very enamored yes, love no

Stayed up for more than 24 hours: yes

ARE THEY

A virgin: yes

A cuddler: yes

A kisser: yes

A smoker: no

Scared easily: yes

Jealous easily: eh not really

Trustworthy: yes

Dominant: not especially

Submissive: not especially

Single: yes

RANDOM QUESTIONS

Have they harmed themselves: no

Thought of suicide: no

Attempted suicide: no

Wanted to kill someone: yes

Actually killed someone: yes

Ridden a horse: yes

Have/had a job: yes

Have any fears: dying, complete rejection, never meeting her father

FAMILY

Sibling(s): none

Parents: Althea & Tzuriel Durothil, Ievos Odalys

Children: no

Pets: none

[frenchy-and-the-sea]

No good reason for this, except that @villnis drew this CUTE AS FUCK PIECE for us as a “happy six months of being the pile of idiots” gift and I was INSPIRED. Idk how in character any of this is because it’s just meant to be silly and over the top so HERE WE ARE.

About 2000 words, set during no particular time because my writing half of the time exists outside of canon, lmao.

ALSO HERE’S THE ART!

“Now, don’t feed me some bullshit line about elves being able to eat books to survive.”

Ianry’s head jerked up as Val backed her way into the room, balancing three steaming bowls of something in her hands. She crossed over to the little wood table in the corner of the room, relieving herself of two of them and turning back with a wide grin as Ianry set his book aside.

 “Only wizards do that, Val,” he said dryly, leaning heavily on the word with a thin smirk that made Val roll her eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Sorcerer, right? Got it.”

She took a seat beside him on the bed and shoved the bowl into his hands like his joke had actually annoyed her, despite the grin lingering at the corner of her mouth. It was full of some kind of thin brown stew, fresh and hot enough that Ianry felt his hands start to burn slightly through the wood.

“Huh,” he muttered, tipping the bowl slightly like he was examining it. “I’ve heard of breakfast in bed before, but dinner? That one’s new.”

Val snorted and reached across to grab her own bowl from the table. “Well, someone had to stay here and make sure they didn’t try to rent the room out from under our noses. Gods know they’d have tried.”

Ianry grunted. To say the inn had been reluctant to rent to them at all would have been the understatement of the century. The only reason they had even made away with the one room was because Amon had begun casting thaumaturgy on every door in the building until one of them flew open, despite the innkeeper’s insistence that they had all been rented for the night. It had only taken him three tries, which had made any resistance by the innkeep particularly futile, but it had still only gotten them the one room.

“Where’d the other’s go?” Ianry asked after a moment, taking a tentative bite. The stew was as watery and bland as everything else in this region, but it was his first proper meal in days, and he couldn’t find it in himself to do anything but hum with pleasure at the warmth.

“Probably watching the last of Sarula’s performance,” said Val with a thoughtful shrug. Ianry’s brow furrowed and she shot him a smirk like she expected the confusion.

“You didn’t think we got this from the inn’s kitchen, did you? After the way they treated us?” She spooned another bite into her mouth and nodded towards the door.

“Tavern across the street was in want of a little entertainment though. For the low price of one round of drinks for the group, we got Sarula up in front of the crowd in exchange for whatever was left in the kitchen provided we brought the dishes back.” She gestured loosely with her bowl. “It's not much, but hell if it isn’t better than more salted pork and hardtack, aye?”

Ianry nodded in genuine earnest. Most of them had learned to tolerate trail food over the course of their many, many collective years of travel, but it never stopped being a miserable way to survive.

They sat in companionable silence for a while after that, leaned slightly against one another as they ate. Val drained her bowl in a matter of minutes, then sullenly eyed the one still steaming on the table beside her.

“Amon’s lucky I like him,” she grumbled at last, sagging back against the headboard like she had to physically pull herself away. “Anyone else, and I’d sell ‘em out for that bowl.”

“Well that’s comforting,” said Ianry, taking his next bite with a loud slurping sound that was clearly meant to antagonize her. Val snorted and shoved lightly at his shoulder.

“Don’t be like that. You know I mean anyone besides you lot.”

“You said anyone, Val.”

They squabbled for a few minutes after that, trading good-natured insults and half-hearted shoves as Ianry picked at the last dregs of his dinner. Val was just setting the bowl aside when the door of the room flew open with a great clattering of wood against the back wall.

“Behold, our savior!” cried Rona as she pushed her way inside. She had somehow managed to get possession of the glitter whip, and scattered a burst of the stuff over the entrance as Tara ducked in, clutching another set of bowls and balancing Sarula where they were perched proudly up on her shoulders. Amon slipped in beside them and dropped into a deep, exaggerated bow the minute he had room.

“Fair Sarula, of Milil’s good graces,” he announced, still hinged at the waist, “Champion bard of the Black Thatch, bringer of meals, entertaining the masses and undermining racist assholes who don’t want some weary travelers to get any fucking food.”

From up on Tara’s shoulders, Sarula giggled, then leaned down to pat Amon square between the horns.

“You sound like Cassick,” they said, and their giggle turned into a gleeful cackle at the chorus of groaning that followed.

They managed to get Sarula down without any particular incident, thanks to Rona confiscating the bowls in Tara’s hands and Val steadying them as they slid from the dragonborn’s shoulders. Ianry scooted sideways on the bed as they shuffled over, yawning and balancing their bowl in both hands.

“Those people across the street were really nice,” they were saying as they hopped up beside him. Tara let out a grunt that Ianry thought must have been a laugh.

“They say, because half of the bar bought us drinks,” she muttered under her breath, though not so low that Val didn't half choke on the swig she'd taken from her waterskin. Sarula glowered, but didn’t quite get around to protesting before their attention returned to their meal.

“I’d have taken the hospitality if they’d had proper beds,” Rona piped up from the table, gesturing with her spoon and scattering brown liquid across the floor. “But even having to squeeze one room out of this inn is better than another night on the ground.”

“What do you mean? Squeezing a room out of this inn was half of the fun of it,” Amon replied, flashing a grin that showed every one of his teeth. Val snickered and clapped him heartily on the shoulder.

“Good sense tells me I oughta warn you against doing that again,” she said, “But I’d pay solid gold for the rest of my days to see that innkeep practically shit his pants a second time.”

Scattered laughter rolled through the room, and Ianry bit down on a grin long enough to clap his hands over both of his cheeks in exaggerated terror.

“Oh, Mr. Scary Demon Man,” he moaned, “Please don't use any more of your dark, sinister magic on me! I’m scared of rattling doors, and I'm so vulnerable to fire!”

Tara sat upright as the laughter doubled, turning her nose to the sky. “Even though I owe you all an apology, I’m still going to feel justified in glaring at your door. But only when I think you’re not looking!”

“After withholding a meal that you know I have.”

“Without any sort of recourse for my actions.”

“Even though I’m so vulnerable to fire!”

The rest of Ianry’s words disappeared in a sudden pitch of laughter as the rest of the party buckled against one another, doubled over and trying to catch their breath between bouts. The table supported Rona well enough, but Val’s horns clattered against the headboard with an angry thud as she sank back when Amon tried to use her shoulder for leverage. Tara just shot Ianry a wide, toothy grin at the mess they had reduced their friends to, and Sarula - 

He glanced down and found their cleric with their bowl set pointedly aside, suddenly hunkered deep into the sheets of the bed and pressed up against his side as they glared through the mess of their dark hair. Ianry snickered.

“Something wrong?” he asked innocently, as if he couldn’t see the way they had practically smothered themself in blankets. Their glare sharpened.

“Could you guys please try to be quiet? For just….” They paused, digging their hand out of the mass of sheets to tick silent numbers off of their fingers. “For about eight hours or so. Give or take.”

The laughter petered out slowly as the words lingered in the air, until one beat of silence had turned into a long exchange of bemused glances. Finally, Val cleared her throat.

“Are you, uh, asking us to go to bed?” she asked, barely hiding a wry, unsteady grin. Sarula wrenched themself around just long enough to fix her with a level stare.

“Yes. Yes, I am.”

There was another pregnant pause. Then Val heaved herself up off of the bed and gave a delicate one-shoulder shrug that did not dampen her smile by an ounce.

“Alright everyone, you heard ‘em. Lights out!”

She grabbed Amon square by the shoulders and half-threw him back onto the bed. He landed hard enough that Ianry thought he must have helped the motion along just to annoy Sarula, who yelped in surprise as the bed pitched sharply to the right on impact. Rona seemed to take some silent cue from Val, and hopped off of her seat to scramble over the tiefling as she crammed in beside Amon. It took a few dedicated waves to get Tara to join in on the opposite side, but soon, all six of them had smashed together in the bed, huddled close and asking, in varying degrees of amusement, if this is what Sarula had been asking for while their cleric grumbled.

And it was a joke, for a little while.

Then their teasing began to die away, and Val shifted onto her side, pulling the sheets up around her waist. Then Rona moved too, pressing herself against the tiefling’s back and hooking her knees over Amon where he lay propped against Ianry’s side. Then Tara started yawning, and Io fluttered over to perch on the headboard at Ianry’s shoulder, and suddenly, he found himself crammed into a bed of semi-conscious idiots with his pack sitting halfway across the room.

Sensing that he had exactly two minutes before he was trapped for the rest of the night, Ianry pressed a hand against the wood behind him and tried to lift out of the pile that had sprung up around him. He had barely gotten his ass a few centimeters off of the bed before Amon’s arm snaked out from under the sheets and clamped down hard over his thighs. He swore quietly and flattened a palm against the bicep now resting against his legs.

“Amon,” he hissed, pushing lightly against the arm. Amon didn’t so much as twitch, though for a moment, Ianry could swear he caught a small smile on the tiefling’s face. Scowling, Ianry pulled his hand away and reached over to shove gently at Val’s arm instead. She actually turned, with a faint hiss of breath that informed him she had definitely been on her way to sleep. He muttered a hurried apology and gestured to his pack.

“Can you grab my book before you all pass out?” he asked, whispering despite his annoyance. “Any of them? I just need something to do.”

Val rolled just enough to see what he was looking at, and he watched with a creeping sort of dread as a wry grin touched the edges of her mouth.

“Sarula said light’s out, mate. Nothing I can do.”

He tried to protest, but she had already rolled away, and a chorus of weary, near-silent laughter bubbled up from the figures around him. Groaning, Ianry sank back against the headboard.

“I hate you guys.”

[frenchy-and-the-sea]

“I told you you’d get sick.” with Val and Amon

I have no excuse for this, except that you gave me an opening to put it on a ship so I did. 

1500 words or thereabouts, set in some fantasy universe where the smarter members of our party could have been convinced to be anywhere near the ocean at this point.

Val propped herself against the starboard rail of the LadyMerryweather, leaning back on her elbows and relishing the feeling of openwater around her again. Between gusts of wind in the sails, she could see bluesky, cloudless and bright as newly polished steel, stretching out to thehorizon line and dipping down into the sea below. Long fingers of sun curvedthrough the canvas overhead, setting every inch of the deck aflame with warmhoney-gold. She took in a lungful of salt air like a man half-drowned for thelack of it, then heaved the whole breath in one long, pleased sigh.

Beside her, Amon’s claws dug pits in the wood as he retched overthe side again.

“I did tell you that you’d get sick if you kept up at Corners yourwhole first night at sea,” Val said primly, keeping her eyes aside. Amon justgroaned, and she felt something long and thin lash against her ankle.

“I thought you said that this happens to everyone at somepoint,” he grumbled as he slid himself weakly back over the rail. The usualbright red of his skin looked sickly and grey-tinged, even in the full light ofthe morning, and felt cold and clammy under Val’s fingers as she turned andbrushed his braided hair back over his shoulder.

“It does,” she said, with a sympathetic smile. “Just tends tohappen more often to people that play cards with friendly sailors, y’see.”

Amon just groaned again, dropping his head back back into the armsfolded across the top of the rail. Val stifled a chuckle as she fished herwater flask from her pocket.

“Here,” she offered, popping the cork free and holding it outtowards him. He picked his head up long enough to see it, then recoiled with awrinkle of his nose.

“Someone tried that already,” he muttered, and his wounded tonetold Val everything.

“Passed off more drink as a cure, did they?”

“Among several less appetizing suggestions, yes.”

“Well, you’re a lubber,” she said with a delicate shrug. “And youstill showed up their best topman out on the yards yesterday, nimble as youare. They’re gonna torment you as long as they can for that performance.” Shedangled the flask in front of him again. “But not me. Not with you in thisstate, understand? I actually give something of a shit about how you’re doing,believe it or not.”

Amon glowered up at her out of the corner of his eye, but seemedreassured enough to take the flask without any more griping. She relaxed backonto her elbows as he gave the little vessel an investigative sniff and foldedher hands over her stomach.

“So, did you at least win a few of those hands you played?”she asked, turning her gaze back up to the flutter of canvas overhead. Shewouldn’t leave Amon to his sickly fate, but she knew better than to face a manat the rail. “Always seemed to me like a day of nursing a hangover was made alittle better by heavier pockets.”

She heard a huff, almost like a laugh, and saw a flash of red andwhite out of the corner of her eye that dragged her attention to where Amon’stail was nudging at the ties of his coin purse.

“Ten gold,” he said over the lip of the flask, pride creeping inthrough the misery as the little sachet sagged open to reveal a small wealth ofgold clinking quietly inside. Ten crowns was a drop in the bucket for theirparty at this point, but it was a veritable fortune to win off of sailors inone night of cards. Val let out a low whistle and nodded her approval.

“Not bad. Haven’t asked how much you lost yet, of course.” Shefielded him an expectant look, and laughed when he grumbled and wrenched thebag shut. “But playing cards all night? Running around the topsails? If youwere in a better state to hear it, I’d almost say that you’d actually taken tolife in the middle of the gods damned ocean.”

Amon peered up at her around the flask with a skeptical raise ofhis eyebrows. “Even like this?”

“Especially like this.” She sank down further on her elbows sothey nudged playfully against his. “If you haven’t pitched your breakfast overthe side at some point, you ain’t been on the sea long enough to call yourselfa sailor.”

“You are not selling your line of work very well, Val.”

“Oh hush. You know this is only part of the job.” She lifted ahand to block the long beam of sunlight that had suddenly come slanting throughthe sheets, peering up into the cloudless sky. “And once you’re feeling alittle better, I’ll take you up top and show you what a real tar is like inthose yards.”

“That might be nice,” said Amon, sighing as he dropped his headback into his folded arms. “So far, all I have actually seen you do is pull onsome ropes and speak in tongues.”

“Speak in tongues?” Val shot him a sidelong grin. “What, you’resaying you don’t know what a for’topms’tays’l halyard is?”

“I will assume it is some kind of rope.”

She laughed and clapped him gently the shoulder.

“Tell you what,” she said. “How’s about you and I just start usingInfernal for everything? I’m pretty sure I can’t say anything more complex than‘go grab that rope over there,’ and then you wouldn’t be the only looking asthough he’s been struck dumb by perfectly plain language.”

“And you would still understand everything, of course.”

“Well, of course!” She leaned back into a long stretch and grinnedlazily down at him. “Near as I can tell, acting condescending and in control iswhat big sisters are supposed to do.”

Amon groaned and buried his head further in the cradle of his armsuntil it hid the weak smile creeping onto his face. “I am going to regretletting you come to that conclusion.”

“Oh yes,” said Val with a sagely nod. “One day, most certainly.But not today.” She plucked the flask from between his fingers and rattled itpointedly. “Today, you are going to finish as much of this as you can stomach,and then you’re going to go below and find a bed, because your sister has alsoalready pledged herself to your watch duties for the day.”

Amon’s head suddenly wheeled back, revealing a furrowed brow andone narrow white eye. “What?”

“Your duties,” said Val slowly, “I’m taking them. Gods, you don’tactually need me to start using Infernal, do you?”

“Val, you don’t -”

He had barely picked his head up from his folded arms before herhand closed around the base of one of his horns and pressed him gently backdown again.

“Sickness of this sort is an all day affair, Amon,” she said witha knowing smile, “Even for the luckiest among us. I know you’d suffer itwithout anyone asking you to, so I’m not even offering you the question. Go below.Sleep the worst off. Let me have a chance to flex some non-lethal muscles foronce, aye?”

She made a big show of tightening her hands to fists so the curveof her bicep showed through the fabric of her sleeves, and any arguments Amonmight have had disappeared into a thin laugh.

“I suppose I cannot say no to that.” he asked after a moment,shaking her off as he pushed himself upright.

“Not unless you want me to carry your scrawny ass the whole waydown, no.”

“Fine.” He sighed. “Give me the flask, then.”

Val dutifully handed it back, her grin fading into somethinggenuine as Amon pushed himself carefully away from  the rail.

“I think they broke into a water cask somewhere below if you getthe urge to fill it up again,” she said, gesturing to the stairs. “And Sarulamight have something to help you sleep if you ask nice.”

“If they are awake,” said Amon with a pointed look. Val winced.

“On second thought, just get yourself some water and a berth.Gods, I might be due for more ordinary work than I thought.”

“I told you, I don’t have to -”

Val suddenly wheeled towards him and jabbed a finger towards thestairs. “Berth. Now. Or so help me, I’ll drag you down there myself.Bound up, if I’ve got to.”

Amon staggered closer to the stairs, bearing his palms in agesture of surrender and struggling through a laugh. “Alright, alright! Sheesh,you would think you have done this before. Are you certain that you have neverhad siblings?”

“Not unless they were all invisible. Berth.”

“You have taken to it, then,” he said mildly, lingering by thestairwell. “I have never been so thoroughly bossed around before.”

He ducked inside the minute Val’s boots started thumping acrossthe deck after him, leaving her standing on the deck with the last few threads of thin, haltinglaughter echoing around her, and a faint warmth glowing in the pit of her chest that she wouldn’thave traded for gold.

[frenchy-and-the-sea]

So here’s a thing. Back when @villnis was sending me prompts from this meme, they sent so many that they literally got blocked from sending more. So a few of said prompts got sent over Discord, including this one, which involves @phoenix-failing‘s incredibly Cavvery and Val with the prompt of ‘pinky promise’.

Now I’ve never written Cav before, and I only know so much, but I hope she ended up okay here! I was afraid that if I didn’t post this, I’d get caught up in the nitty gritty and it would NEVER get done. so here’s hoping it came out okay!

1500 words this time, set in a made up scenario that we have not and probably will never actually have to deal with in the campaign.

Cavvery had raged against this plan.

Splitting the group was suicide enough to her mind, but these idiots had decided to cement themselves in Death’s good graces by separating her and Bren. And they must have been rubbing off on him too, because he had the nerve to agree.

Yes, they would move quieter as two smaller groups. Yes, they had done their best to split their strengths evenly across both. Yes, Bren would be traveling with the half that had plate armor and a shield and a willingness to take the big hits.

No, she still did not have to like it.

She had made everyone very aware of this fact too, with a daggered silence that had quashed even Ianry’s chatter, and a glare that should have rightly set the whole camp on fire. Only Bren seemed immune to it, trying every so often to make conversation, failing when she cut him off in a few short, angry words.

He never stopped trying though, so Cavvery turned immediately from her rummaging when she heard boots crunching closer, fire and daggers all ready.

“I don’t want to hear - ”

She broke off when she found herself staring up not at Bren, but at two yellow eyes glinting in the dark.

“Don’t worry, I’ll only be a minute,” Val said, with a faint and lopsided little smile. Cavvery frowned, but didn’t object as she turned away. Val could talk if she wanted. It wouldn’t change a damn thing.

The tiefling apparently took her silence to mean as much, because after a moment, she carefully picked her way over to where Cavvery had returned to hunching over her pack. She could feel Val’s eyes watching as its contents were stowed - potions and poultices, bandages, alchemical solutions, a few vials of the tincture to keep their less flattering sides at bay.

“I know you’re worried about him,” she said at last. Cavvery made very sure to make the stutter of her hands look like she just missed a pocket. She still didn’t look up.

“Hell,” Val went on, with a short, humorless laugh. “I feel like I haven’t stopped worrying since we met you two at Kay’s party. I can only imagine what you’ve been dealing with all these years.”

A round of the same mirthless humor Val had used pressed suddenly at the back of Cavvery’s throat, escaping as a sarcastic huff.

“Well, at least you’re honest about the fact that you don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, the nonchalance in her voice undercut by a tincture glass clattering into the bag with what was admittedly more force than necessary. Overhead, she heard a noise that might have been a sigh if Val’s teeth hadn’t been clenched so tightly.

“Glad to hear you agree that I’m honest enough,” she said after a moment of terse silence. Her voice still sounded a little thin, but remained flat and even as pond water. “So you’ll believe me now when I tell you that I’m gonna make sure nothing happens to him, yeah?”

Cavvery snorted, a short huff of air through her nose, and finally looked up. She could feel the ice-fire burning behind her eyes as she did, and Val, for all her height and strength and the scars under her plate, took a full step back at the force there.

“Are you absolutely sure you’re qualified to make that promise?” she asked. If Val’s voice was pond-water still, Cavvery’s was unnaturally so, and dark as midnight. She usually loathed the idea that Kay’s lessons stuck to her even when she stopped playing puppet, but they had their uses from time to time.

Like threatening anyone who so much as chanced her brother’s safety.

Val didn’t recoil this time though, didn’t frown or snap or lash out; instead, her grim look softened, and she sagged under her armor with a sigh.

“Lass,” she said with a weary smile, “If something happens to anyone here, I can tell you it won’t be while I’m alive.”

The frigid heat that Cavvery felt glowing behind her eyes suddenly sputtered, then fizzled out completely. Val seemed remarkably comfortable with the phrase, with the implication that she would fall for the sake of someone else. Resigned, her mind provided helpfully, and she felt her stomach twist in a way she didn’t care to think about for any particular length of time.

Something must have shown on her face though, because Val suddenly shifted with an uncomfortable cough, and seemed intent on getting away from the subject. She nodded back towards the fire at the center of camp.

“I’ll do what I can to take care of your brother,” she went on, softer again, “But you’ve gotta be able to promise me the same.”

Her eyes darted pointedly sideways, and Cavvery followed the look over to where Amon was sitting, bent over a map with Sarula, carefully marking paces off one by one.

“Amon?” She turned back to Val, genuine surprise coloring her expression. “You two are…?”

“Not by blood, no,” the tiefling replied, the corners of her mouth tugging up in a faint, knowing smile. “Not that I can figure anyway. But he’s family all the same. They all are.”

Then she fell silent, her eyes turned to flint by the edges of her smile dropping suddenly away. She didn’t have the practice, the training, the hollow emptiness burned onto her soul to quite pull off the cold heat as Cavvery had, but with the fire throwing shadows up along her horns and her yellow eyes narrowed to slits in the dark, Val got pretty damn close.

“I can’t lose another family, Cav,” she said, her voice thin and very quiet, “not a third time, understand?”

A shudder rolled involuntarily down her spine, and Cavvery quietly cursed the natural inclinations of tieflings. She straightened her shoulders to quell the shivering and forced herself to look directly up into Val’s grim stare.

“Sounds like we’ve both got our work cut out for us, then,” she said after a moment, trying at a thin smirk. It felt strange and lopsided, but the attempt must have been noted; Val’s expression softened again and she coaxed up the beginnings of a smile. Hers, at least, held steady.

“You more than me, admittedly. But if you promise to make sure Amon doesn’t do anything stupid, I’ll keep my shield up for Bren,” she said, holding out a hand. Cavvery reached up to take it, then pulled away again, puzzled. Val hadn’t offered her a full hand; just the smallest finger, hooked like she expected to grab something. She turned her narrow look to the tiefling overhead, whose smile widened as she reached down - whole handed this time - and pulled Cavvery to her feet.

“Never seen that before?” she asked. The little tinge of smug amusement in her voice made Cavvery frown, but Val didn’t seem to notice. “Street kids used to do it in the cities I grew up in. To them, it was as good as swearing on blood, or on the life of your mum. Difference being that I’ve seen people break both those promises before, and never saw one of those kids so much as joke about it when little fingers were involved.”

“And you're just as serious,” Cavvery said slowly as understanding dawned. Val grinned and offered her finger again.

“Can't think of a better way to show that than with the only vow I never saw broken.”

Cavvery looked down, staring fixedly at the hand held out in front of her. A part of her - the noble, rational part, the one that had been groomed so carefully all of these long years - told her that she should scoff at this. Swearing allegiance over a children’s vow was ridiculous at best, insulting at worst. Her brother’s life was worth more than some street rat’s game, after all. If it wasn’t going to be blood or gold, her word should be enough, would have to be enough -

She felt her finger slip in beside Val’s almost before she recognized what she was doing, with a deliriously giddy skip of her heart that politely explained that her rational side that it might fuck off entirely.

Across from her, Val’s grin glowed in earnest. She shook once, a firm pump of their joined hands, and then broke the grip to clap a hand onto Cavvery’s shoulder.

“Now,” she said with grand flourish towards the fire. “Your brother has been moping for the past hour, and I’ve got coin that says you’ll snap him out if it in ten minutes or less, if you’d like to help a girl win back some of her hard earned gold.”

The grin that had been threatening finally broke out across Cavvery’s face, and she shrugged Val’s hand from her shoulder as she strode towards the fire pit.

“Fine,” she said, with a dramatic sigh, “But I’ll be taking half.”