#* replies : n1ghtwarden.

[oflolth]

" how sweet and good a servant to lolth you must be, nathbryn. loyal, unquestioning - like a dog. a yapping, foolish little dog at that. it is unfortunate that loyal dogs so often go mad in their service - it does, however, make them all too easy to put down. "

the spoon nathbryn is currently using stills halfway between bowl and mouth. it isn't so much that she's unused to insults at mealtimes - though the loftiness of her claim to nobility is a shade more contested than that of some present company - but travelling with vampires and sharrans and gith, sharp-toothed or not, has apparently dulled the reflexes she'd assumed she had waiting in the wings.

nathbryn somehow registers the blasphemy last - this seems, at first, a personal attack, though how could there be a distinction? an attack on lolth is just as much an attack on nathbryn. and in a way, that it is blasphemy is mercy, for there can be a defence - nathbryn sinks her nails into the resounding righteousness and swears never to let it go. the heretic will be silenced, and when that day comes, nathbryn will watch her hands as they carry out lolth's will, and she will feel nothing.

nathbryn's reply is delivered in a tone as lofty as it is brittle. " you would know, wouldn't you? " her lips take on a cruel curve - a poor imitation of a smile, though it suits this occasion well. " i think you living proof, minthara, that a dog which strays is put down far more readily. " she nearly declares the matter over with that, and perhaps if she'd been able, she would have stalked off, or gone back to eating. to insult minthara does not seem enough, though. and so nathbryn's are untethered only for a moment before they seek minthara again. when they raise, so too does her voice - let the others hear. nathbryn is, in this moment, too proud for dulcet tones. " do not mistake me - i am hers, and as i am hers, so she may dispose of me. if i am to be driven mad, so be it. if i am to be put down, so be it. she brought me to you; do not forget where you would be otherwise. "

[instatera]

* @n1ghtwarden ! starter call

the days drug on and the longer they did so, the more isvir feels herself beginning to splinter. her moods varied from craving solace and keeping to her tent to settling amongst shared company and saying nothing at all, not altogether there. dark circles sit themselves beneath her eyes, most nights spent wide awake and unable to rest. to say she was unlike herself would be an understatement. the woman currently stands ankle deep in river water, the sun just beginning to rise over grassy foliage. she however, clad in merely a nightgown, stands in gentle morning light which dowses her in an orange and yellow aura as she wades through shallow pools, mindless. limbs are heavy with exhaustion, and she follows the same path each time - across the river till she reaches about knee high water and back again. pacing back and forth almost hypnotically, isvir startles when she misplaces a foot and plummets, knees landing in mud and rock, causing her to curse quietly. still, she remains where she had fallen only for distracted stare to land on nearby path when she hears the rustling of grass and gravel. " hello? " she croaks out, blinking weary eyes and hoping her only company is a few stray bugs, if she's lucky.

[zilmdat]

* @n1ghtwarden !

he's clutching at his side, crimson blossoming beneath chainmail and cotton. brunette ringlets are crusted with dirt and an assortment of other fluids he tries not to think about, lumbering forward down the clearing away from the array of now dead bodies. lurking form comes up behind minthara, shoulder brushing hers as he passes. " wouldn't happen to have a healing potion on you, would you? " he strains through clenched teeth, doing his best to keep himself upright. something had pierced through skin, though he's unsure if it was spear or artillery more long lasting. the wound continues to gush as he moves to rest on a nearby rock, lidded eyes staring into the midday sky and glinting at the beaming sunlight that stares back. james can only hope the weapon wasn't dowsed in poison - that would be just a delight. unfortunately however, he he doubts that would be enough to kill him. life had it's talon buried into his very soul, and he always find found a way back one way or another. " sooner rather than later if you don't mind. "

[abyssmarked]

for so many years, the only social skills nepharia acquired were the arts of deception and seduction. you need someone to play the part of the damsel in distress, just to turn around and rip the throat out of her enemy with her teeth? need someone to seduce a man into a false sense of security? neph is your girl.

minthara's cold remark almost makes the young succubus want to crawl inside of herself, let the demon within take control— the carnal lust within her infernal blood could surely have the drow a puddle at her feet. but it wouldn't be genuine. it would be her defensive systems kicking in, seduce, manipulate, control and destroy if necessary. she doesn't feel the need to do that with minthara, though.

nepharia can tell that the drow's callousness doesn't seem to stem from a place of passive aggressive cruelty for the fun of it, but from a place of resentment of having been rejected before. and she's always been a curious devil, curious about things she finds... alluring.

most of her childhood was ruled by a father who treated her worse than a dog, who then handed her over to a man who sold her body to countless other men night after night after night for a decade. fifteen years after her escape, she has finally been more acclimated to life in the real world, but she still sometimes feels like that wild, feral creature lurking the woods for fresh prey. men. all of them. she became their tormentors, it was her turn to be the monster.

' i most humbly assure you that i'd have absolutely no issue satisfying you, if that's really what troubles you— but i don't believe it is, ' the succubus replies confidently, a smirk gently plucking at one corner of her lips. she allows herself to move a bit closer, short, silk nightgown flowing as bare feet move across the grass.

she walks assertively, a gentle sway of her hips until she's standing a couple of feet away from the drow, ' forgive me for not exactly being in a particularly randy mood after slaughtering a bunch of innocent refugees, ' her voice is coated in a bit of her own toxin, a bit of attitude, ' if we were going to ravage one another after committing mass murder, i'd be way more into it if the victims were all really powerful men, ' there's a wicked gleam in her eyes as she smiles with her words.

* closed starter | @n1ghtwarden

nepharia isn't proud of herself for a lot of the choices she's made in the name of self preservation. she could have annihilated minthara at moonrise towers and no one would have batted an eye, and maybe minthara would have deserved it. but if the drow deserves it, then nepharia is no less guilty. she has no less innocent blood on her hands. and when their tadpoles connected their minds inside of those stone walls that night, nepharia almost instantly felt empathy for the drow. her mind was desperate, and she was afraid. that fear is something nepharia knows all too well, that will to survive, to become something stronger so nothing can ever fuck with you again.

at first, their alliance was mostly selfish on nepharia's part. sure, she empathized, but she also empathized with the tieflings from the grove and that didn't get them far. no, at first, the succubus saw minthara as a strong, bloodthirsty accessory, someone to keep around to help enhance her chances of survival. but there's something in the quiver of the drow's voice sometimes when she speaks, a touch of softness in her stern eyes when she actually manages a genuine smile -- something in the mystery of minthara that neph finds herself so drawn to. there's more to this warrior than meets the eye, and nepharia is curious to know what that might be. curious to know who she is. all of her greatest fears, her deepest desires, her hardest traumas.

curiosity about other people, wanting to learn them, caring about what happens to them : these are all foreign concepts to nepharia. the last time she let herself love someone, she ended up having to kill them. a pain so deep, so forever searing, that she would rather be another reclusive monster in the shadows, only emerging for another kill. the thing she's best at. astarion was the first person to start cracking away at that hard exterior. she used him at first as well, same as she used minthara. survival. she seduced him, to gain his trust. little did she know, he was doing the exact same thing. recently, they decided that neither of them wanted a lover in the other, but a friend. nepharia doesn't believe she's ever had a friend, not a real one. not until running across this bunch of tadpole infested freaks.

now, nepharia finds herself at minthara's tent where she's secluded herself away from the others at camp, unable to contend with the magnetism drawing her to the drow, like a moth to a flame. her tent always did glow the brightest. it's funny, in a way. nepharia is the succubus, yet she feels as though minthara has her under a charm spell : perhaps nepharia is desperate to feel something. to use her body as more than just a weapon. to connect with someone again. nepharia recalls the night her choices lead to innocents being murdered, by her own hand, no less. in that moment, she never could have imagined she would have felt the telepathic caress of minthara's sensual touch with any amount of pleasure. in this moment, she finds herself fantasizing about it. the craving to touch and to be touched and the sensation be genuine, not motivated by murderous intentions or the addictive nature of feeding off of a person's life-force, that mortal desire to be known intimately by someone -- it's all nepharia can think about right now.

' it's late, ' her voice is quiet, a hair above a whisper, clawed bare feet treading softly through the grass as she approaches the drow, clad in her usual camp attire : a black, leather bra, and skin tight pants made of the same material, ' i'm surprised you're still awake, but -- i'm also pleased. i couldn't sleep, ' she's realizing she has no idea how to begin a conversation with minthara, wondering how this can be so easy with prey yet so difficult with her, ' perhaps i could interest you in my company ? ' neph asks with a knowing smirk, knowing that the two of them haven't exactly gotten to know each other very well yet, and knowing that minthara can very easily turn down the offer, still she adds, ' i'm great at deception and playing a part, but you'll have to forgive me, i'm not proficient in just... socializing like a normal person, i'm afraid. but i want to. i want to talk with you. ' that might be the most intimate thing she's asked someone to do with her in a very long time.

[oflolth]

minthara is attempting to deceive nathbryn, and rolled a 12. 💀

5E SKILLS STARTERS / ACCEPTING. / " i know that you did not truly kill the wizard and eat his liver. he tastes atrocious. " nathbryn realized what it was that she had accidentally implied, and frowned. " i have not tasted of the wizard's liver - gale and i are in agreement when it comes to his lack of potability. i only mean that it is obvious that you have not, as well. your palate is too refined. "

that seemed to nathbryn dangerously close to a compliment. she fought to right the ship that was this conversation before it ran aground on jagged rock, but the more she spoke, the more she felt she was losing whatever game it was they were playing: " i did not mean that as a compliment to you. it is a compliment to your house. i do not compliment the blasphemous. "

she had complimented the blasphemous within view of minthara just that morning.

" i do not sincerely compliment the blasphemous, " nathbryn amended. " followers of the absolute may stand in exception. now that we have established you were lying about the wizard, shall we go and collect his carcass? have withers breathe new life into it? i refuse to bother lolth over something so trivial. "

there is a pause.

" come to think of it, should he not have exploded by now? i've never been clear on how that works. "