#CLERIC ON CLERIC VIOLENCE

[kovir]

BALDUR'S GATE 3 (2023) dev. Larian Studios

[sicklyseraphnsuch]

Hold Up.

First. Theyre fully armed soldiers, ready to fight (and be violent) for their god. Thats the text.

Second. They were ready to kill Imogen (or feed her to the Ruiner), and they would have succeeded. Thats also the text.

if BH's responses are not polite or coddling, its bc the fully armed soldiers responded to their presence with violence, right off the rip. violence is hard to meet with politeness, it really fucking is.

BH didnt even intend to say that Imogens carrying predathos. they said it was defeated. the armies didnt need to be here anymore. that was in fact, a reasonable thing to say.

lets not be the foreign army on foreign soil invading a land in protection of their gods. lets... not do that.

its absurd to me that people see how "oh BH are intimidating the armies" as if BH wasnt outed by an angel then a cleric tries to kill Imogen by Summoning Their God before BH could say a word edgewise. To quote Ashton, "that was Rude"

also ignorance would have been bliss - but the situation left BH control when the angels snitched

for better or for worse, imogen wants to save the gods from death by digestion. that is the intent. she doesnt want to fight the armies of several gods (bc she will lose). she is on their side (or she will die. i mean the gods will too but her first! she doesnt want to die).

the armies are afraid, rightfully so, but like thats bc the angels snitched. all BH said was "predathos was defeated. go back". they said nothing like "we about to shakedown your gods for all of their lunch money" (which they might lel but like they didnt say anything intimidating until again... they were threatened!!)

its ABOVE the soldiers' paygrade and i dont think BH would have flaunted that knowledge of predathos in Imogen anyways

lets lay out the scene. a whole army surrounds a group of nine. The nine are beaten to hell and back but still they are kept at bay by weapons. a cold breeze could destroy them. thats text.

[melancholiaenthroned]

crazy for even suggesting this

[magnetic-rose]

i just thought this was the funniest opportunity to reveal my dark urges to shadowheart.

[marsuro]

Late revenge on @xiphosuras , in which Ford bursts in another door and almost gets gutted for it!

[ruvviks]

// ocs as patron saints. [x]

tagged by; @katsigian, @deadrlngers and @devilbrakers, thank you so much!!

tagging; @mojaves, @dickytwister, @ordinarymaine, @claudiawolf and YOU!

– PATRON SAINT OF RELICS.

patron saint of remembering. patron saint of holding something close. patron saint of holding on for too long. for a saint, a relic is often a part of the body, kept for some physical memento of their holiness. they are all in your hands, now: does it feel like remembrance? does it feel sanctified? are the dust and blood as precious as they're supposed to be?

hindsight carries the gun of his deceased father, the last memory he holds of the past and of what used to be his family; he is alone, a vessel for all that used to be, carrying the burden of remembrance like a chain around his neck. he has made himself easily digestible, to fit in, to not stand out; yet the past clings to him tighter than the present and forces him on his knees, forced to worship a twisted and faux idyllic retelling of a place he can no longer get back to.

– PATRON SAINT OF HEARTBREAK.

not of comfort. not of condolences. there is a heart and there is a fissure, a fracture, something that starts to splinter and break open. you're the patron saint of the way a heart is rent open. the way it tears itself apart. patron saint of the rift. patron saint of the gash. when they say to "open your heart" to somebody, you are the patron saint of bleeding out.

erytheia is a grave domain cleric, and has witnessed more burials in her lifetime than any being ever should. she has seen the countless ways in which the best of her abilities still did not suffice, her healing more than often merely prolonging a life rather than saving it; and she carries the consequences of it wherever she goes, the faces of those who were left behind, the broken hearts and wails of sorrow like a symphony in the dead of night, chasing after the trail of blood left by her bleeding heart.

– PATRON SAINT OF BLOOD.

patron saint of the life that flows through our bodies. patron saint of violence. patron saint of love. something that does not watch over but exists within: not for protection but for vitality. there is no passion without a beating heart at its core. when that heart breaks open, someone has to be responsible for what it bleeds.

juniper is full of life, full of passion. her heart hungers and beats viciously within her ribcage, threatening to burst out; all of which shows in her unexpected ferocity in battle, as well as in the way her hands hold the waist of her lover, whoever is within her reach when her desire threatens to spill over. a mouth that kisses as much as it bites, and teeth that graze vulnerable skin and dig into tender flesh; she is a predator, and gods save whoever becomes her next prey.

[foxgl-ove]

lae’zel basically saying she’s mean because that’s how she was taught to survive, yeah

[settons]

Awww my sweetie cutesit ♡ ignore the blood there was an accident ♡

[ranger-danger]

I miss my dnd ranger :( Joyce I miss you. Much more now that the 2024 rules turned out to be really good for rangers.

Anyways have some of the only decent drawings I’m made of him (in his entire lifespan, idk why but he is the worst character to draw. I have never struggled with a character as much as I have him and Likaria).

Also a baby one I did for some reason??

[rodimissliveblogs]

Gnawing on the dialogue option "I know you think this will set you free, but it won't. This power will trap you, just like it trapped Cazador" because like. that is the inevitability of vampire lords! Fucking Strahd, who is the vampire lord, is a monstrous man who has near-complete control over all the people of Barovia and keeps them trapped within his domain, but he is also, just as literally, trapped there himself. He's spent 400 years pursuing the reincarnations of a woman who wants nothing to do with him, and if he does manage to turn her into a vampire spawn, he then just locks her up in the crypts beneath his castle and never bothers with her again. He's miserable and pathetic and is never going to be satisfied and is never, ever going to be free, either literally or figuratively. That is what comes of being a powerful vampire lord.

[edifythedefiance]

Edify The Defiance Vol.1

Chapter 1, page 5

[START] ……… [PREVIOUS PAGE] ……… [NEXT PAGE]

Panel by panel under cut

[barkyshark]

No return

[mariluphoto]

Israeli settlers are attacking the Christian community in Jerusalem including bishops and priests! The Christian community is literally fighting for their lives right now in the Armenian Quarter. Christians: more of you need to stand up with us against this violence! This has never been a Muslim issue. (28.12.2023)

Chancellery Armenian Patriarchate of Jerusalem

28 December, 2023

A MASSIVE AND COORDINATED PHYSICAL ATTACK WAS LAUNCED ON BISHOPS, PRIESTS, DEACONS, SEMINARIANS, AND OTHER ARMENIAN COMMUNITY MEMBERS IN JERUSALEM WITHINONE HOUR OF THIS ANNOUNCEMENT. SEVERAL PRIESTS, STUDENTS OF THE ARMENIAN THEOLOGICAL ACADEMY, AND INDIGENOUS ARMENIANS ARE SERIOUSLY INJURED.

Over 30 armed provocateurs in ski-masks with lethal and less-than-lethal weaponry including powerful nerve-agents that have incapacitated dozens of our clergy broke into the grounds of the Cow's Garden and began their vicious assault. We stress again, several priest, deacons and students of the Armenian Theological Academy along with indigenous Armenians are seriously injured. ARMENIAN CLERICS IN JERUSALEM ARE FIGHTING FOR THEIR LIVES AGAINST IMPUNE PROVOCATEURS.

This is the criminal response we have received for the submission of a lawsuit to the District Court of Jerusalem for the Cow's Garden, which was officially received by the Court less than 24 hours ago. This is how the Australian-Israeli businessman Danny Rothman (Rubinstein) and George Warwar (Hadad) react to legal procedures.

The Armenian Patriarchate's existential threat is now a physical reality. Bishops, Priests, Deacons, Seminarians, and indigenous Armenians are fighting for their very lives on the ground. We are calling on authorities around the world and the International Media to help us save the Armenian Quarter from a violent demise that is being locally supported by unnamed entities. We call upon the Israeli Government and Police to start an investigation against Danny Rothman (Rubinstein) and George Warwar (Hadad) for organizing their continuous criminal attacks on the Armenian Patriarchate and Community, attacks which seem to have no end in sight.

Israel is a State of law and order and such criminal behavior cannot be tolerated and go unpunished.

(via. IG: rosypirani)

[miirohs]

sugarcoated [l.d.n]

pairing: Mob Boss!Baby Daddy!Lando Norris x Fem!Reader wc: 2.7k cw: violence (implied but not against the reader), emotional manipulation, reader is highkey tweaking, Norris is a touchy ass, slight yandere undertones, this aint healthy an: i keep forgetting my irls have my blog lowkey ive been scared of posting bc of my parents. also hey ladies whats up im back out of my flop era! miss me miss me now you gotta kiss me!

He was always lingering somewhere, no matter where you went.

It was like no matter where you ran, he would always find you. Quite frankly, you were sure that was half the appeal to him, he was a powerful man and he spared no expense in letting you know. 

Sometimes, it was the little flowers he left on your doorstep in pristine condition, small notes in semi legible handwriting tied to the stems. Other times, it was the faint smell of his perfume that lingered as he’d find himself in front of your door at odd hours of night, begging you to let him in, as if he’d been dying at the steps of your door.

And like a fool, you finally cracked, you did let him in. You were charmed, though there was no doubt it made you uneasy, he’d pacified you with his dazzling promises to take care of you, so what could’ve been the harm?

You didn’t see him again after that night. In fact, you hadn’t seen him for weeks afterwards, then the games started as soon as you moved.

You’d run, he’d show up, you’d run again. 

It was a cycle. There was no leaving the city anymore either, his forces scattered across every crook and nanny of the city. You’d sealed your own fate with just one hospital visit, deliverance of the exact news you’d prayed to not get as you sat with a test in your hands, two pink lines string back at you. 

You had no idea how you even made it home that night.

It was in your best interest not to move anymore, but you weren’t even sure how to move forward. Your wallet wasn’t entirely drained, but you were. Any chance of moving away was immediately stomped out, leaving you with no choice but to firm up against him and his sugar coated words.

It wasn’t long before he found out, and when he did, he made sure you knew. You couldn’t tell for your life how he felt though.

At first, it was minor things, baby items you didn’t recall ordering appearing at your door. You chalked it up to clerical error, but something nagged at you as you inspected them. Then, more expensive items started to appear, everything a new mother could dream of, but it made you uneasy.

Sometimes he’d come along with one of these gifts, standing outside the door as you peered at him through the eyehole. You never answered, with the hope that he'd leave you alone, hoping to dissuade him from anything further.

Then the biggest shock came along, sitting across from you on the counter, as if it’d been there the whole time. You had no time to question, let alone think about it upon seeing the small note attached to the box. 

I hope you’ll love the gift exactly how I did when I saw it, xoxo.

You knew exactly what a diamond ring implied. Yet, you couldn’t seem to wrap your head around why he would’ve sent it. The last thing he would’ve done was tie himself to you after trying so long to avoid you.

It’d been four days since the ring had appeared there, and you were simply hoping it was a fluke, no sign of him to back the ever present thought of the intrusion. 

You sat at the dining table, poking around your half-assed salad as you stared at the box. You could’ve sold it off, but there was no doubt someone would’ve found out and reported it back to him, leaving you to bear the brunt of his anger at your outright refusal. He’d never hurt you, but you saw everything in his actions.

The thought was more than enough to throw you off your meal, pushing away the plate with a pained sigh. Eating wasn’t the only thing that’d become harder in recent months, as working had left you with barely any time for yourself.

You were almost ready to doze off right there and then, had it not been for the series of sharp raps on the door, earning a grumble from you as you dragged yourself to the door with a mind full of insults to hurl at the person.

It hadn’t occurred to you to check who it was as you sleepily fiddled knob, only saved by the grace of the chain lock you’d forgotten to unlock.

“Hey there.”

Your blood froze, hazel eyes staring down through the crack of the door. There he was again, the devil himself, at your doorsteps as if he’d been waiting for you for a long time.

“Lando?” it came out as more of a whisper than anything else, voice cracking from a lack of proper use.

“It’s nice to see you too sweetheart,” He laughed, tilting his head at you to meet your eyes through the wide crack. 

There was a look in his eyes, although you couldn’t entirely decide if it was predatory or not as you averted your eyes, looking down at the handle of the door.

“What’s going on in there? Are you working late again? Though the doctor said it wasn’t good for you to be up this late with the baby on the way.”

You didn’t respond, trying to shut the door as subtly as you good, hitting something between the doorframe. Jitters ran down your spine when the door wouldn’t move further, looking down to see what it was. 

He’d wedged his shoe in between, the bastard. You looked back up, swallowing as he narrowed his eyes, the smile slipping off his face for moments to reveal thinly masked displeasure before disappearing entirely.

He knew what you were trying to do. You didn’t know if the guilt building up in your chest, or the possibility of what he could’ve done, scared you more. He’d never explicitly laid a hand on you, but the amount of torture was already enough as he lingered in your space.

“Someone has to keep the lights on,” You muttered, letting him nudge the door open. You were already fighting a losing battle, there was no way to keep him away but to hold him at an arm's length. That was how he’d gotten in the first time. He couldn’t fool you twice though.

“That’s why I've been sending you stuff, have you not gotten it?” He frowned. For a moment, it almost felt as if he were trying to be genuinely involved. You knew better.

You hesitated, looking back and forth between the chain lock and his face, though not much contemplating would be able to change the choice that’d already been made for you.

“No. I… donated it to some of the others at work. Needed it more than I did.”

There it was again, the indignancy in his eyes. 

“I got it for you though, was it not to your liking then?” His voice was eerily calm, but you knew exactly what it meant. Your hand instantly went up to the chain, almost as if it was moving on its own. Fear gripped at you. You had no idea what he was going to do next.

“So, you’re determined to be a single mother then? Do you know the kind of trouble it would get you and the baby into…” He raised his voice, pausing to see if you’d reconsidered.

Clearly a slight tremble in your hand was enough to convince him you’d finally stood down, a smirk gracing his already vicious face as you opened the door. You had no plan to, but it was hopeless to try and stand up without attracting attention, the last thing you wanted was for everyone to know what a shameless bastard he was.

“Just come inside please. Don’t let anyone see you any more.” You whispered, letting him through the threshold before you shut the door behind you.

“You’ve been busy, haven’t you? Just look at the state of your... apartment.” He shook his head, pushing at stray articles laying all over the floor with his foot, as if they were positively filthy. There were still boxes from your last move sitting around the living room, the only real piece of furniture unpacked being your bed and the table you were sitting at. 

You couldn’t help but be a little embarrassed as you walked into the kitchen, you’d never been this untidy before. It wasn’t any easier as Lando tailed you, only pausing outside the door frame, as if something stopped him from coming through.

“You should move from here. I don’t like this apartment, it’s in a sketchy part of town.”

“Well, I don't recall asking for your opinion, did i?”

You didn’t pay any mind to his poking, filling a random mug up as you stood at the sink before you shot back, standing in the dark of the kitchen as he walked away, presumably to shuffle through your personals again. You were thankful for a moment of silence though, head pounding from all that had happened today.

You stood there lost in thought, and he’d returned sooner rather than later, tone disapproving as he spoke to you once again.

“I wonder how on earth I'm supposed to convince you if this can’t stop you from trying to make it on your own.”

Only, he wasn’t at the doorway anymore, standing a little further back, waving a stack of letters to your face. The color of the envelopes, you immediately knew what the contents were.

Heat seemed to bloom across your face, rushing over to grab the letters from him. It was of no use, he could easily keep them out of your reach, but it didn’t stop you.

“Sweetheart, what happened to you? Looks like you’ve managed to stir up more trouble than you can handle, am i right?” You could hear the mock empathy in his voice, distorted by the rush of blood to your ears.

“You. You happened to me.” You hissed back at him, finally grabbing the papers and slinking backwards. There wasn’t any time to leaf through them, but the big bright red stamps were more than enough to drive you to tears when you saw them. But you couldn’t cry here. Not in front of him.

He didn’t respond to your remark, simply giving you a look of pity, watching with careful eyes as you tossed the pages back onto the table, taking your seat back. The tension was getting higher, only breaking when you finally looked at him, opening your mouth.

“You can’t just come in here, into my life,” you managed, voice quivering despite the resolution you’d come to, “And act like you own the place. You have no idea what I’m dealing with.”

“Don’t I?” Lando pushed himself off the opposing wall, getting closer. “I’m the one who’s been watching you struggle, I'm the one who’s trying to help you love.”

“And is this what help is then?” The thought tasted bitter. “Sending gifts isn’t helping, it’s… wrong.” 

Then adding in a whisper, “You know i can’t afford this.”

He paused, the righteous look he had faltering for a second. “You’re reading it all wrong. I’m just trying to provide for you and the baby, but you want to be stubborn. You won’t take my help, nor will you take my money.”

“I don’t want your money, please.” You begged mercifully, looking at him eye to eye since the first time he’d stepped through the door.

“Really?” He raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching into a half-smile that sent chills through you. “You should be thanking me. Not many get the same kind of priority you’re getting right now. I’m only trying to make it easier.”

“I would never do it with your filthy money, how many have you run over just to make a paycheck?” You murmured, pausing at the look on his face.

“At least I can provide for myself. I won’t ever have to scrap the bottom of a tip jar only to fail to make rent.” He replied smoothly, eyes narrowing at your attempt to rebuke him.

The implication hung heavy in the air, and you clenched your fists, nails digging into your palm. “I… can’t.”

The silence seemed to stretch thinner, and you could feel the burn in your eyes as you looked down at your clasped hands. You couldn’t even really tell when the first tear slipped. It kept coming, and you couldn’t stop it. You knew he was right.

“Hey, hey, none of that.” He said slowly, getting down on one knee to meet your eyes, taking your hand in his. “I was out of line for that, wasn’t i?”

You shook your head, covering your mouth to stop the sobs from escaping. He seemed remorseful, running a thumb over your knuckles as he looked at you with a mix of pity and something foreign.  “I know I upset you, but I'm still offering you a chance here. I wanna set it right between us.”

You didn’t argue through the tears, and he seized the moment. “You can struggle all you want but I can provide everything you need. I can make the baby my heir, I can give you the life you deserve... all you have to do is say yes.”

“Say yes to what? Marrying you?” The words seem to slip out of your mouth mid sob, and a look of amusement crossed his face as you slapped a hand over your mouth.

“Exactly,” he replied, trademark grin spreading across his face. “Imagine it. A beautiful ceremony, a life together. You’d have someone by your side who can ensure nothing threatens you. You’d be safe and sound. The baby would be my successor, guaranteed.”

“I barely even know you. You don’t know me.” You whimpered as he played with your hand, too loving, too suffocating.

He moved closer to your lap this time, bringing his hand up to wipe the tears, soft and tender than you’d known him to be. “You don’t have to be strong all the time, and I know it feels like you don’t know me at all. This is a big decision.”

“It’s not just a decision, Lando. It’s my life.” You hiccuped, despairing clawing at your insides. “How do I know you won’t just leave when you’re bored of me?”

“Didn’t I promise to take care of you and the baby?” He gently cupped your face, tilting it up so you had no choice but to meet his eyes. “Look at me. You’re not alone in this. I’m here now, and I want to help.”

There was a flicker of recognition at his words at the back of your brain, raising voices of caution as you looked at him through glassy eyes. “And what if I can’t love you back like you want me to?”

Lando’s eyes darkened slightly, and he took your hands, pulling you closer. “You don’t have to love me right now. Just trust me.” His grip tightened, slightly painful as he held onto you. “Just let me show you what it means to be cherished.”

He leaned in, his lips almost brushing your ear, the movement making your breath hitch. “Let me in, stop thinking so hard.”

You could’ve stopped breathing, time slowing as he pushed the ring box into your lap.

He was never going to give you a choice, but what he said was ultimately true.

“Just think,” Lando urged as you squeezed your eyes shut, allowing him to play with your ring finger. “Think about what you could have.”

You’d never really realized how much his scent stuck till you until now, wrapping around you and lingering softly. A part of you was tempted to lean into him, to let him guide you into this new reality.

Even if you hadn’t made up your mind, he likely already had.

“Fine.”

Wordlessly, the cold metal slipped on the finger he’d been tracing moments before, bringing up your hand to kiss it.

“See? You’re already one step closer.” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

You could only look at him, dried tear tracks sticky against the sudden cold draft of the air.

“It’s a promise,” he said, his thumb brushing over the ring as if it had already tied you together. “I won’t let you go just like that.”

You shuddered. 

There was no escaping him now. You were tied to him.

A sugar coated nightmare, it seemed.

[thisisnotthenerd]

a wonderful episode. i love the way they told this story.

to start, nia being a steward, a prophet of faith in the severed divine, one who holds the torch even when she cannot see who lights it.

fiedra and crokas. his newfound wisdom and insight clashing against years of a learned distance, of careless use even as she loved him. her immediate reaction of someone so used to violence as the expedient route, trying to carve out her grief by solving a problem.

the callister reveal. brilliant. brennan truly has asmodeus as his pet betrayer god. one of these days i would love to see a compilation of every time he's been asmodeus in exandria to see the evolution of it.

garen restoring the poem and keeping it as a living record of the tenets of the all-hammer and the story of the end of calamity.

nia and erro going to her parents’ house.

the fight. the last ditch effort, the contingency plan for the very end of the calamity.

fiedra's nat 20 insight. for someone who had not cared to direct her cunning inward for years, she took the lesson and immediately clocked the breach of her trust. among the very few mortals to see through the deception of the lord of lies.

also i deeply hate how awful timothy's existence was.

erro, protecting garen in his final moments, a brother-in-arms to the end. enshrined beside the beloved who gave him happiness in his mortal life. wrapping his wings around the world, a membrane of divine protection, the guardian of the gate before the keystone is laid.

fiedra adopting timothy. taking responsibility for the second child that landed in her hands. she could not fix the harm, but could try again, better.

crokas helping to found the cobalt soul. i called it. it is so important to me that this crocodile man is foundational to exandria as we know it

nia, a pillar of the community, taking the time to understand the faithless even in her deeply faithful life. also? moon cleric. both crokas and nia played exandria-based subclasses (technically. they never actually did, being level 1).

and garen, the mortal aspect of moradin. i called this last week also. stayed a cr 1/8 npc to the end. memorializing erro. hallowing kraghammer, founding stilben (it's still bend, it's always been bend).

getting to fly over the world he built, both in and out of character, carried by erro, played by liam, who first brought them together to play d&d for his birthday.

it really is the writer’s instinct to tie things up in a bow.

if this is where they leave exandria, it's a fitting close to the chapter. wraps all the way back around to the beginning, where vox machina first set off.

[aerynwrites]

Losing You

Halsin x GN!Reader

A/N: based on these three requests! Halsin would definitely flip out if you were injured in battle - so here’s a little insight into that scenario. Hope you all enjoy!

Word Count: 2.6k

Warning: canon typical violence, blood, injuries, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort.

You knew the shadow cursed lands were going to be a completely new trial all together, but you weren’t prepared for this. 

The first ambush by the shadow creatures when you first arrived hadn’t been something to cause you great worry. But after reaching last light and venturing out once more, another ambush had taken your group by surprise. 

You’d all been doing fine, Gale and Halsin’s spells holding the most of them off and Shadowheart keeping you all safe and healed. You’d just managed to take out one of the shadows before a panicked call of your name reached your ears. 

You turn just as a creature materializes in front of you, its clawed hand swiping upwards in a flash. 

You don’t even register the pain at first, the creatures strength sending you flying through the air until you land harshly against the cold ground. 

The wind is knocked from your lungs, and it’s then, as you struggle for breath that the pain washes over you in an agonizing wave. 

You faintly register the way you cry out Halsin’s name on instinct, and you hear the way he calls for you in kind. 

But the only thing you fully recognize is the pain. It’s all comsuming, starting in your abdomen and radiating outwards as you try in vain to sit up and turn yourself over to asses the damage. 

Your futile efforts are stopped by a gentle hand on your shoulder, slowly helping you to roll over. 

“My heart…” Halsin’s voice is calm at first, but even in your dazed state you don’t miss the way his words pitch upwards as you finally settle into your back, the sudden movement making you gasp as another wave of pain shoots through you. 

“Shadowheart!” Halsin calls for the cleric, and you can faintly hear Gale telling her to go while he deals with the few remaining enemies. 

Halsin hands are on you now, flitting over your body worriedly as you finally manage to raise your head enough to try and take in the damage. 

Your heart leaps into your throat as you see the damage done. Or rather what you can’t see. There’s so much blood. It runs in thick rivers from the deep wound in your stomach, and seeing the wound just makes the pain elevate. 

Your can feel yourself start to hyperventilate, panic settling in full force as Halsin hovers over you, pulling out what little healing supplies he carries in his pack. 

“Oh gods…” Shadowhearts gasp meets your ears as she finally appears your side. You watch through bleary eyes as she shakes her head. “We have to get them back to last light I…my magic is sapped - I - I don’t have enough power to heal something like this-“

“Then help me with whatever magic you do have,” Halsin barks, voice unusually panicked. “They won’t make it to last light like this I-“ he pauses, eyes flitting over your form. “We must stop the bleeding.” 

“Halsin…” your voice is weak as you call out for you lover, but he is quick to respond, his gaze turning to you as he reaches to take your hand in his bloodied one. 

His eyes look panicked as he gazes down at you and you can see the apology before he utters it. 

“My heart, we…We must stop the bleeding before we can move you. This is going to hurt, I’m so sorry-“

You don’t even have time to question anything before you feel a firm pressure on your wound, the action sending fire through your very veins. 

A scream tears from your throat, hands scrabbling for purchase against the assault. Your fingers finally find Halsin’s familiar form, pushing uselessly at his arms, tears now streaming down you cheeks. 

You can register nothing but the pain, your mind clouded with it, your muscles locking down against the waves of it. 

You feel the pressure shift, another wave of agony pulsing through you before Halsin face is hovering over your own, brows pulled together, eyes glistening with worry. 

You reach up for him then, hands landing on his shoulders as your fingers dig into him, anything to try and relive the pain. 

“It hurts,” you whimper, fear now creeping into your hazy mind. 

He reaches a hand up, cupping your face, and you notice his hands are shaking as he wipes the tears from your cheek. 

You can feel the way your lower lip wobbles as you speak again. 

“Am I going to die?” 

Halsin’s lips set in a firm line then, eyes full of determination. “No, you will not die this day, or you any day I am by your side.” He pauses for a moment, and you see the moment an idea comes over him. 

His eyes slip closed before the familiar golden glow of magic envelops his hand as he reaches it up over you. “I will take your pain away, my love. Then I will be at your side when you wake.” 

You don’t protest as his magic flows through you, pain ebbing away almost instantly as darkness clouds your mind. 

The last thing you feel before unconsciousness consumes you is the gentle press of lips to your cheek.

———

You wake to weak candle light and, surprisingly, little pain. 

The room you’re in is dimly lit by various candles littered around the space, and as it has been since you’ve arrive in these cursed lands, the sky outside remains dark. 

You recognize the last light inn, even in your bleary eyed state. You take a deep breath and close your eyes again, trying to ground yourself. 

The air is cool but not uncomfortable. Your fingers twitch against soft sheets atop an even softer bed. Though you suppose anything is softer than the bedroll you’ve been sleeping on in the last weeks. 

It’s also quiet. Much quieter than your used to for the only safe haven in the shadow cursed lands. Which means it must be well into the evening, everyone having retired to bed. 

You only open your eyes again when the gentle rustle of fabric meets your ears. You turn to the source of the sound, only to be met with the familiar sight of a certain Druid sitting by your bedside, his hand clasped loosely with yours as he leans back in his chair, eyes closed in what you assume to be the trance he falls into at night. 

You squeeze his hand in yours instinctively, seeking out that familiar comfort as the memories from before come slowly back to you. 

Halsin’s eyes open the moment your hand stirs against his own, hazel eyes widening as he takes you in. He lets out a small sigh, lips tugging upwards ever so slightly. 

“You’re awake,” he says simply, scooting closer to your bedside. 

You nod and move to sit up, a sharp gasp escaping your lips at the pain that shoots through your abdomen at the action. 

Halsin is reaching out immediately, hand on your shoulder as he urges you to lay back down. 

“Careful, my heart, your injuries are still fresh. You must not move too much until Shadowheart or I are able to heal you further,” he explains, voice gentle. 

You give him a small nod as you rest back into the pillow, grimacing at the pain now blooming in your abdomen. 

“Gods…” you whisper, “It landed a solid blow, didn’t it?” 

Halsin’s lips fall into a frown, brows drawn tight. He says nothing at first, instead standing to turn to the table near the bed and grab a small cup. 

You watch in silence as he mixes something into the cup before moving to the small fire in the hearth and the pot hanging over it. He dips a ladle into the pot before transferring the contents into the cup and stirring it before returning to your side. 

The cup is steaming, and you catch the faint smell of medicinal herbs and something slightly sweet. 

“Here,” he says softly, holding the cup out as he reaches for you with his other arm. “It should help with the pain. I will help you drink.” 

Halsin slides one arm under your shoulders slowly, delicately lifting you up just enough so you can drink comfortably. The small movement bring no more pain, so once you’re sure you’re secure in Halsin’s hold, you reach up for the cup. 

It’s warm in your hands, and it’s then that you realize just how cold you are. Even with the blankets draped over you, a persistent chill nips at your skin. 

You blow on the still steaming liquid before taking a tentative sip, expecting it to be too hot and also not pleasant in taste. 

You’re surprised on both accounts. 

It’s the perfect temperature, not too hot at all and it actually tastes pleasently sweet. It tastes like…

“Is there honey in this?” You ask, eyes flicking to your lovers only to see his lips twitch upwards. 

“There is,” he smiles now. “I know the taste can be unpleasant and you already know of my penchant for the particular treat…I thought a little something sweet couldn’t hurt.”

You smile at him in return, already feeling the affects of the drink. “Thank you.” 

Halsin continues to support you as you finish off the concoction, and then he takes the cup from you before slowly helping you lay back down. 

The blankets shifted with the small movements, and you can’t stop the shiver that runs down your spin as the cool air kisses your exposed skin. 

“Are you cold?” Halsin asks, concern lacing his words. 

Nodding, you pull the blanket up to your shoulders again, silently taking note of the banded covering most of your torso. 

“It is a little chilly in here,” you admit softly, trying to hide another shiver. 

Halsin turns to look at the fire, the flames dwindling and embers glowing softly. 

“I’ll stoke the fire,” he tells you, turning back to face you. “I need to change your bandages, so I’ll try to make it warmer.” 

He squeezes your hand gently before turning to his new task with you watching on in silence. He pokes the burning logs already in the hearth before adding a few new ones. The flames lick eagerly at the new fuel, and you can feel the room rise in temperature just from that. 

Once Halsin is satisfied he walks to a table across the room and washes his hands in a large bowl of water sitting atop it. 

You watch silently as he goes through the motions, and despite your silent admiration of your lover, you can’t help but notice the stiff set of his shoulders, or the way his lips stay pressed in a thin line. 

When he finally returns to your side, his hands are full of supplies. New bandages, a small bowl that once again smells of something medicinal, and several other items. 

He sets them all down on the small side table next to your bed and gestures to the blanket covering you. 

“May I?” 

You nod, “Of course, Halsin.” 

He nods and folds the blanket down to your waist neatly, finally giving you a clear view of what hid beneath. 

Bandages span from just below your chest all the way below the waistband of your pants. You briefly realize these are not the pants you were wearing when you got injured - the leather armored pants being replaced with simple cotton ones. At least the fact that Halsin was probably the one to change you nullified any embarrassment you may have felt otherwise. 

Neither of you speak as Halsin begins unwinding the old bandages, the white cloth getting more discolored the more he unwraps. When it’s finally fully removed, you’re able to see the full extent of the damage. 

By all accounts you should probably be dead. 

There’s four red, angry claw marks coming from your left hip all the way up and across your stomach to the right side of your ribs. The blood has been cleaned off, but a flash of the pools of crimson liquid pooling on the ground makes you tear your eyes away from the stitched up wounds. 

“H-how…” you trail off, unable to voice the question. 

How am I still alive?

Halsin is quiet at first, focusing instead on cleaning your wounds and gentle applying what you assume to be a healing poultice. 

He lets out a quiet sigh as you flinch against his minstarations, even his earlier concoction not enough to numb the pain from direct touch. 

“In truth…” he pauses. “I was afraid you were going to die on that shadow cursed battlefield.” 

He doesn’t look at you as he continues his work, being even more gentle this time. 

“I…I do not feel fear often. Having had centuries to master that specific part of myself, but…” his words die on his tongue, and you can see the way his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows thickly. 

“I have not cared so deeply for someone in many years, and the thought - the thought of losing you was more than enough to bring that unfamiliar fear to the forefront of my mind.” 

His words settle into the quiet room, the fire crackling the only sound to penetrate the silence. 

Finally, he speaks as he begins wrapping the new bandages around your middle, hands moving slowly as not to aggravate the wound. 

“Shadowhearts magic was depleted, mine was about to be as well. We used what little magic we could conjure to stabilize you, and then Gale managed to open a portal here to the inn,” he focused on his work as he continues. “I was afraid you were going to die, my heart. And there was little I could do about it.” 

He secures the final piece of cloth before his hands fall back to the bed, fingers digging into the sheets. 

“I would not have survived that.” 

You let out a shaky breath, reaching out to take his hand in your own, unfurling his fingers from the covers to lace them with your own. 

“Hey…” you whisper, gaining his attention enough to tug him towards you. “I’m here. I am alive because of you. I’m okay.” 

Halsin shakes his head, eyes falling closed, “But you could have-“ 

You shush him softly, tugging on his hand more intently. 

“Lay with me?” You ask. “Please?” 

Your lover hesitates, eyes opening to look down at your bandages before looking back up to your pleading eyes. 

You pull him closer again, his thighs now pressed against the edge of the bed. “I’ll be fine I just…” you trail off. “I want you close.” 

Halsin sighs, but not in anger or disappointment. In fact he sounds…relieved. Like the fact that you are alive and no longer on deaths door has finally settled in. 

He nods, helping you adjust to the other side of the bed before he slips in beside you, pulling the covers up around your waist once you’re both settled. 

You want to roll over onto your side and curl into him, but you know you can’t. So you settled for the way Halsin lays on his side instead, his arm draped carefully over your hips, thumb rubbing soothing circles onto the unmarred skin of your right side. 

“I’m not going anywhere, you know,” you whisper, one hand falling to cover Halsin’s. 

You turn to look at him when he doesn’t respond. Leaning in to press a chaste kiss to his lips. He responds in kind, lips molding against yours before pulling away to rest his forehead against your own. 

“And I won’t let you,” he promises. 

You smile as Halsin captures your lips again. The action is full of so much. So much love and care and affection. 

And most importantly, promises to keep you safe. 

A promise you know he’ll fulfill. As many times as it takes.