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reverieblondie · 3 months ago

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I already sent this thought to someone, but I think you might like it, too!

Tiefling bachelors accidentally scratching up the surfaces they were bracing their hands on while engaged in a moment of carnal passion with his partner, like not small superficial scratches, I mean his claws left gouge marks. Imagine he is all nervous/embarrassed about it only for his partner to inform him that is actually incredibly hot.

I look forward to seeing your thoughts (if you desire to share them).

A/N: This took me forever! But I loved every second it was so fun! these scenario ones are always my favorites! I love love the Tiefling bachelors but I wanted to add some of my moots OCs that I love. We have Kieran from @dark-and-kawaii wonderful mind (thank you for the screenshot and thank you for making this man I am obsessed!) We also have Syvaris who I instantly fell for when I saw him on the discord server made by @tealfling (He is so dreamy and I am so happy for @faerunsbest oc Dwylla for snatching up that tall man, also thank you for the photo to use!) Hope you enjoy its all 18+! MDNI!

Rolan

"Your... A- Ah~ Annoying, you know that?" Rolan growls in your ear as his claws dig into the sides of your thighs. All you can manage is a breathy giggle that turns into a whine as he pushes into your wet core deeper. The ridges stretch you as he sinks deeper, Rolan's brows are furrowed, and his eyes shut tight as he feels you clench on his cock like a vise. "So…so… tight… per-perfect," his voice mumbles as he gets lost in the feeling. This is a far cry from how he was acting earlier, you had been bothering him all day with countless pointless questions, touching his arms and hands, then acting oh so innocent about it. The last straw had been when you barged into his office and sat on his desk, hiking up your dress to show just a teasing hint of your thighs, of course, in an effort to interrupt his oh-so-important studies. Rolan was definitely taking out some built up frustrations when he finally broke. Grabbing you by your waist, Rolan pushes you down on the desk and finally kisses you; it is desperate, hungry, and completely perfect. You didn't think Rolan was ever going to stop kissing you, not until he started talking about how you drive him crazy. Now, here you lay back on the desk as Rolan's long nails scratch his oak desk, and he ruts in, bouncing you to take an inch deeper with every thrust. The pleasure of the stretch is overwhelming, and then there's the sight of him over you, his golden eyes shining, and the way his hair hangs down; he is completely enthralling. You should have bothered him to this point months ago... "Rolan... you're perfect." Your sweet praise rings in Rolan's ears, making him scratch his nails deeper down his desk. You feel his tail thrashing around till it's gripping your leg like a vice; all you can keep doing is gripping his tough skin, singing his praises, making his cock throb, and you too keen further. Rolan, fueled by your praise, loses himself in you as he lifts his foot on top of the desk angling his cock to hit against your G-spot in mind-numbing bliss. Rolan's own praise continues to switch from common to infernal as he desperately chases both of your orgasms. He's been pinning for months, and now that he has you, he's desperate to please you. When he finally pushes you to that edge, it's intense. Once you have both come down from your orgasms, Rolan's face is flushed from more than just the 'workout.' He's avoiding eye contact even as you try to ask him what the matter is. "Was it me?" you finally muster as you feel your chest sinking. Rolan turns to you quickly, holding your naked body close to his, "It's me… I was… unhinged… you probably-" you cover his mouth with your fingers, causing him to become quiet, "You were perfect… Rolan, truly perfect." Rolan looks at his sharp nails and ruined desk, "It didn't scare you?" You lean in closer to his lips, "Only excites me…"

Hours later, Lia brought up Rolan a late dinner (considering he had missed it earlier doing whatever). When she knocked on the door, she could have sworn she had heard hissing whispers and something being shoved. Rolan answers the door out of breath but uncharacteristically cheerful; it was suspicious... Lia looks around and sees large gashes on his desk and on his study walls. "What happened here?" She says, placing the tray down on the ruined desk; Rolan stumbles about clearing his throat till picking up a tome (one of many on the floor), "I was working on a difficult spell." Lia looks around, "I guess it's one hell of a spell…" Before she can further look around, Rolan is thanking her for the food and pushing her out. Must be very eager to get back to his work…��

Zevlor

The first thing he asked you when you came into the storage room was if anyone saw you sneak in after him. The Second question he asked you as he walked towards you from the darkness, his fiery eyes locked on yours, was if you could keep quiet." Of course "was what you promised Zevlor, and of course, at that time, you had meant it… but now that your legs are wrapped around his textured waist and his thick cock is ramming in and out of you, bouncing you against the supply shelf, you're finding it difficult not to scream his name. Zevlor is also finding it equally as difficult not to moan your name as yours as you take him in so well, your tight warmth practically sucking him in deeper as your slick walls flutter around him. Your nails bite into his shoulders with every roll of his hips. Zevlors breath is hot and heavy against your neck, his teeth threatening to bite your delicate skin as he presses sloppy kisses against you. It all just riles you up more, rolling your hips to meet his thrust pushing his hot cock to sink in deeper, nudging that sensitive spot in your cunt, forcing you to see stars. A deep groan rips from Zevlors throat as your cunt quivers on his cock with a rush of your arousal squirting onto his abdomen. In an attempt to keep himself quiet, he bites into your skin while his hands claw up and tear at the supply shelves, even forcing some things to fall and crash to the ground as his hips move erratically to chase his high. Later, he will embarrassingly apologize for acting like an animal, but you just kiss his lips and say you want to see that passion again.

You're trying not to blush as the rest of the caravan's refugees look at the ruined shelves and materials marked by claws. When Zevlor finally shows up from being called, he gives a simple answer: "Animals must have gotten in and messed around," he says, trying to hide his smile. You promised that your rondeau tonight would happen outside the grove so you could be as loud as you like.

Cal

You could have had anyone you wanted at the party; as the hero of the hour, everyone was trying to catch your attention, but you picked him out, and Cal couldn't be happier. Cal almost feels like he can't breathe as you kiss his neck before running your tongue over his ears. You giggle as his tail twists and sways erratically, his clawed hands holding tightly onto your bedroll, carefully trying not to rip it. Cals is trying so hard not to lose control, but little does he know that's exactly what you're after. Cal has always been so sweet and strong… All you want him to do is to let go and finally release all that built-up tension. So after much soft teasing with sweet whispered desires, you reward when Cal finally snaps, taking you in his arms and kissing you like he's never going to see you again. You, of course, were soft to start… but your want can make you ravenous as Cal's hands ran over your body; of course, it led to you stripping him in a fever, eager to feel his hot hands all over your skin, caressing your sides, teasing your inner thighs, and twisting your breast… You just couldn't help it anymore when you finally pushed him down to sink onto his girth. Cal's clawed hands rip fistfuls of your bedroll apart as you bounce on his cock; he eagerly matches your pace with his hips ramming up into your wet cunt, making your eyes roll in ecstasy. Your sweet Cal looks up at you with half-lidded eyes concentrating on your pleasure, he wants to please you, and when you bring his hand to circle your clit he's in bliss. Your cunt clenches down harder on his thick cock, making a growl rip from his throat as he tries not to cum too quickly. But then you start begging… begging for him to cum inside and claim you as his. With a moan and a loud tear, you feel him cum in hot spurts that make you desperate for more of him. Later, Cal will be so embarrassed and nervous about ripping up your bedroll; of course, he offers to give you his, but you just smirk, "I don't mind it all ripped up; it's a good reminder of you for the road."

The next day, as you're packing up your things, still feeling quite melancholy about the tiefling departure, you're about to pack up your ruined bedroll when a clearing of a throat causes you to turn. It's Halsin, and in his hands, he has a bedroll. You look at him confused, and he just smiles. "Heard from a blushing young man that you needed a new one." Of course, Cal wouldn't leave you with a ruined one. During your small reverie of thinking about Cal, Astarion walks past with a smirk, "Hope it's claw proof, that or get that teif some claw covers for next time."

Dammon

His forked tongue licks at your dripping sweat as it rolls down your throat. Dammon pins you against the back wall as one hand holds your hips as the other keeps him steady leaning you both steady. His weight presses against your body as his thick cock stretches you open. Your hands and legs wrap tightly around him as he fucks you in the back of the forge. You had been so needy and couldn't wait for him to take you upstairs, you needed him now. So thus leading to you two tangled together in the back of the shop. You're both nude and sweating as the forge fire roars. As you chant his name Dammons pace gets rougher, his cock slamming in so deep you begin to see stars. Feeling your tight warmth starting to clench on his cock has his mind going blank. First, you feel his sharp nails on your hip pierce your skin, then you hear the scratching down the stone wall as his hips get faster, the pace getting sloppier but never relenting. Dammon always knows how to give you exactly where you need it every time. His breathing is rough and shallow in your ear before he lets out a dark growl, "Cum on my cock. So I can fucking fill you..." Dammon is rarely so demanding, but you just can't help yourself when he is. Dammon comes to bed later rather quietly… when you ask him about it, he says he's embarrassed for getting so rough, when will he learn that's your favorite…

The customer looks at the back of the forge's wall, tilting his head at the scratches all over the stones. "What happened to your back wall?" Dammon flushes, stammering before you come and place a hand on the small at his back, calming him. "Just your typical late night at the forge. Nothing to worry about."

Kieran

He smiles down at your blissed-out face, "Feels good, doesn't it, bunny?" All you can manage to do is to open your mouth and whine as his cock keeps punching against your cervix, brushing your smooth, slick walls with the hard ridges of his cock. Kieran smirks down at you, so malleable for him; he hicks your legs up further, forcing your knees up to your face, successfully folding you in half. "You're so full you can't even think right now, huh?" You urge yourself to answer, but with the added heat of his body slamming onto you is leaving you in a lustful daze. You end up just grabbing his shoulders, digging your nails further into his flesh, practically threatening to make him bleed, "Please…" Your pleading is music to his ears as he pounds you harder, his nails not only ripping through the wooden headboard but ripping your skin in the process. The sharp feeling is quickly dulling into toe-curling pleasure as Kieran continues to fuck you at a rough pace. "Please… Please!" you continue to breathe as you quench down on his cock, causing him to groan in your ear, "Oh bunny, you don't even know what you're begging for, do you?" Kieran rolls his hips at an agonizingly slow pace making your eyes cross as his tail finds your clit. "What would your boyfriend think of you now? Begging like a whore for another man's cock in his bed nonetheless…" you hardly hear his taunting words as you cling to him, babbling as his nails continue to carve into you; if you didn't know any better, you would think he's carving his initials… "poor bastard just didn't know how to treat you…" Kieran grabs your hips and starts to bounce you in his cock, smiling at how you come undone for him so easily. Honestly, Kieran is not remorseful in the least for scratching everything up.

Your boyfriend stumbles into your shared bedroom and pauses when he sees the bed broken and everything else he owns ripped to shreds. He looks around, perplexed until he sees a letter waiting on the broken nightstand. "Sorry about the bed. Try finding something more durable. Also, I took the girl." - K.E.

Syvaris

Syvaris was just expecting to take a nice refreshing dip… but he hadn't expected to be interrupted during his wash in the river. Syvaris had a feeling he was being watched, it was only confirmed when he stopped his meditation to see you peeking at him from behind a tree. You, the same sweet little thing he had helped save earlier that day spying on him…, and he couldn't find it in himself to mind, especially when it's someone so pretty like you acting so naughty. All Syvaris had to do was wave his hand to beckon you closer, "care to join me?" was all he said to get you to strip bare for him and join him in the crisp waters. It was clear you were wanting this just like he was. The coolness of the water made you feel a shiver throughout your body; it was short-lived. However, as you swam closer, he wrapped his warm arms around you, bringing you to his lap. Syvaris chuckled as he let you roam your hands over his wide chest. A passionate make-out followed where he prepped you with his long fingers in your wet cunt. The next thing you knew in the lust-filled blur was him having switched your positions to have your back pushed against a rock as he stretched your cunt taut, and he sunk into your warmth. Syvaris seemed determined to ruin you for any man after him with the way he rammed into you. Syvaris continued to shower you in praise as his lips caressed your sweat-laced skin, and with every kiss, every whisper, every thrust that threatened to go straight to your womb, your pussy fluttered and gripped him like a vise. Such a sweet little thing… he promises to come back for you when his journey is over, but for now he wants to stay in this moment for as long as he can, holding tight to you as he digs his claws into the rock holding you as he fills you with his cum. You won't be able to forget him… especially not when you're going to be leaking him for days…

You are stuck in your reverie as you look out into the cool waters. You were meant to be down here to wash laundry in the stream, but when you look in the distance, you see that same place where you shared your night with your hero. Syvaris had left with a promise to return, and you knew deep down it was true… but you still worried…. "Are those bear scratches?" one of the girls with her own basket says in shock, part of you has half a mind to confess… but you keep Syvaris and your secret tight to your chest.

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dutifullylazybread · 1 year ago

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started reading deeply and i gotta say, don't do that at work. not the place for big feelings. had to bookmark it and immediately scuttle home. i would like to say you have an excellent portrayal of rolan, combing all the aspects that make him lovable without turning him into something placid and shallow. its so easy to cater to those particular aspects that make him 'cute'. having a character that and image that is full and well rounded is often difficult. he is prismatic! spectacular work

Ahhhh!! Thank you so much!! 😭 Apologies for the big feelings at work, but I am so glad that you like the story!! I really enjoy your Dwylla x Rolan comics, btw! The one where Rolan is chatting with his son gave me LIFE. I was trying not to lose it in my office.

And thank you! That seriously means a lot (I worry about characterization a ton, so I'm so happy to hear I did Rolan justice!). I adore this grumpy wizard, and I think one of the most fun ways to explore his character is to figure out how he would respond to a situation, especially if he is put in an awkward position. Like, yeah, he's going to be grump about it--but how can I use that to my advantage? I am absolutely rabid over the idea of him simultaneously being a grump and head-over-heels at the same time.

So that's my ramble! :D

#darcy replies #darcy rambles

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faerunsbest · 3 months ago

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LOST

A little fic inspired by @tealfling

Syveris found that momentum tended to very often simply carry him, as he rarely had want or need to redirect that energy. Though sometimes that momentum was simply more than he could stop, right now he found himself somewhere he was sure no one belonged. One fight could become two and the world turned under him and before he could take in the turn his face his cold stone. Syveris groaned as he pushed himself up, looking around the miniscule stone room, he found the only thing separating him from others was metal bars.

The men around him reeked of bile and ilk and weeks without washing. His stomach lurched and threatened to ladder back up his gullet, only with focus could he keep it down. Staying calm was hard when breathing came with such a penalty. Breathe to focus but the air smelled of rotting death and for the first time in years, he felt panic. He had to focus on something else, push it back.

The massive man moved to sit up on the broken concrete floor. He crossed his legs and placed his hands on his knees and placed his focus on sound. He let the sound of his own beating heart steady him, his mind placed precedence on the sound over every smell. Around him the caged men began to speak, some more vulgar than others and despite tasting the air he focused on himself and the center of his being. His long pointed ear twitched when the sound of grating metal filled the room. Syveris opened his eyes to find the bars locking him in, open and guards waiting.

“So then, where are we off to?”

The tall tiefling asked as he stood up, following the guards curiously. He didn't quite want to be here but he also didn’t see an immediate exit, it seemed the easiest thing at the moment was to follow along and see if he found freedom as he was walked to an open door, where brilliant sunlight nearly blinded him. One of the guards pointed to the open door and spoke in low gravelly tone

“We stop here, you go out there and you die. And if you don't we��ll take you to a bigger room”

Syveris raised an eyebrow at the guard, he wanted to ask a few more things but that might be an easier exit. Maybe.

The tiefling found himself walking out into red sand, looking around at broken weapons half jammed into the dirt. Massive stone wall, too tall for even him to leap over. Behind was stadium seating as the cacophony of voices rang out he realized he was as close to hell as the living got.

The towering tribute to Nessus, a massive coliseum dedicated to recreating the nine hells for gladiators. His stomach dropped as he realized that behind these walls death was inevitable. It would happen, although it didn't have to be at his hands.

That night he sat in his only moderately larger cell and looked down at a bowl of watery grits, he worked his jaw. Something is better than nothing and he didn't know how long he would be down here.

He wouldn’t take the swing, no matter how many times they put him in the ring, he simply redirected every attack until his opponent collapsed and every time he was whisked away before he could help them. One match, two and a week has passed and it seems he will be pushed forward into the next battle. Each one, more exhausting than the last,water grits and no meat, no real food. No sunshine but what shone into the ring and now he didn't notice the smell of death and Syveris looked down at his hands watching color drain from his skin he wondered how much longer he would have to endure. There had to be a way out, his mind raced with hunger clawing at the back of his skull. Thirst pinched at his brain and he felt like he was losing himself. No sooner had the thought occurred to him than the feeling of something gripping his horn and pulling.

He twisted in place, their grip loose enough to allow him to look at them but not run. A woman on the other side of the bars in the cell behind his. For a moment he froze at the image of her, filth mottled her skin but he didn't see that. He saw inky black eyes with pin pricks of liquid fire staring down at him.

“You no hurt them?”

Her mouth moved like language was a distasteful foreign thing. She spoke as if it grated her, broken phonics forcibly pieced together to get a message across. He just shook his head no, she let go of his horn and gripped the bars that separated them. For a moment he looked at her hands, pale blue against the blackened steel and all he saw where the littering of scars wove across her knuckles.

“You play and die, but play.”

He furrowed his brow, trying to see past the shadows that masked the bottom of her face. A cage framed her mouth… another look at her hands and he realized there were thick metal cuffs on her small wrists. Why was she bound?

“When you play die, you lay with dead ones. Throw out, you wait til dark and sneak- you can be out”

Syveris listened carefully, tilting his head.

“If it is so easy, why are you still here?”

She only looked at him offering a slow blink as she tilted her head.

“If i go, no one else will”

With that she disappeared into the dark behind him and he knew, she wasn’t supposed to be there to begin with. Now as alone as he could be in these cold perforated cells he sat and could do little more than think.

If i go no one else will

He realized after several hours what she meant, if she left then there would be no one left to tell people how to get out. Play dead and you’ll be free.

The strange woman was right.

Three days later Syveris dug his way up through a pile of corpses, gasping for air and almost screaming. His lungs were on fire and he swore he could feel his veins struggling under his skin he felt on fire and cold. Tumbling out from the mountain of what would be mulch, Syveris grunted and groaned trying to stifle himself as he tumbled down. Hunger ,nausea, exhaustion and so much more clung to his bones when finally he rolled to a stop and crawled through soft dirt. He didn't know when he collapsed, only knowing when it happened as he woke and realized the was moving and ground was rumbling under him.

When Syvaris woke again he found himself confused by the ceiling. A mosaic he’d never seen colored the place and he realized he was alive. He lay there, still weakened and exhausted and all he could think of was those eyes. He closed his eyes and he could hear her jagged broken speech and his heart panged, guilt pooled in his chest clung to his ribs. In the distance something clanged, probably dropped. And the metal noise reminded him of the cage on her mouth.

One day and he could get out of bed.

Two days and Syveris was informed he’d been locked up starving for months. Months? He pressed his face in his hands as he realized he honestly had no sense of time while he was in there, he ought to have lost his mind. That was reasonable. But…he thought back and recalled the strength of those eyes on him, the gentle feeling of her letting go of his horn.

One week of healing and recuperating passed and Syveris found himself sitting out in the grass looking at a scarred bit of wood and all he could think of was the way her knuckles looked. Warped and riddled with injury.

How did that strange woman live there and still have enough strength to find people their freedom at the cost of her own. The guilt that washed over him was cold and seemed insurmountable. But it was alright. He knew exactly what he had to do.

Another two weeks later and Syveris was walking out of the place that had so kindly healed him and helped him get back to himself. His messenger pack rattled with healing and rejuvenation potions, as he listened to the glass tinkle a thought occurred to him. She was in there all this time running on so little … What would one of these potions do for her? He supposed he would find out…

#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #tiefling #syveris #dwylla

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tealfling · 3 months ago

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Syvaris, up at 3 am. Wondering what Dwylla is thinking about.

Dwylla, snoring next to him.

#Syvaris x Dwylla #oc x oc #Syvaris #Dwylla

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faerunsbest · 4 months ago

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got in bed a few hours ago but kept thinking about dwylla

#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #tiefling #dwylla

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faerunsbest · 4 months ago

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@tealfling

we have problem

IM down bad for these two

look how silly dum dum girl crawled out of her sleeping roll to be closer to him

#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #dwylla #Syvaris

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faerunsbest · 6 days ago

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the best part of some ships what i name the files of art

@tealfling

#syveris #dwylla

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faerunsbest · 13 days ago

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RUST

so @tealfling and @barbwillbrb and me did a little fic game where we spun ocs and tropes and this is my part!

featuring my girl Dwylla and barbs Mortimer

Exhaustion hung to his bones like too many blankets on a struggling clothes line, his body sagged limply in the guards arms. Wrists shackled behind his back, the guards gripping him by his elbows as they dragged him through cold narrow stone halls.

“All the cells are full where are we supposed to put him?!”

The taller guard asked his partner, worry tinting his inquiry. Difficult not to worry as the place was damn ear overflowing with broken crying bodies and the weight of unfair sentences.

“...I guess shes gonna have to share.”

“But shes dangerous!”

“Oh well I guess”

“...are you serious?”

“We don't have another cell okay.”

Mortimer wheezed as he was hefted up for them to get a better grip and pulled along to a much longer hall…for a time only the long cold stone decorated the path. Not a cell near this one. Solitary confinement.

Mortimer huffed, a string of saliva dripping from a busted lip as he grimaced, feeling his cuffs come loose before a cell door, thicker and heavier than the others was unlocked. The steel key turning with jagged forceful thumps, inner tumblers groaning as they were forced out of place. The heavy door dragged through a path gouged through the old stone before Mortimer was thrown in. as he arced in the air, his eyes flashed wide as he whipped his arms around his stomach, curling in on himself as he landed. Head slamming against the stone, he could only groan in pain as he turned over onto his back.

One of the guards eyes went wide, laying there on the floor in the small beam of light from one small high window. The bulge of his stomach was clear on display in those stripes of light. The guard swallowed dry as he stared and looked to his partner

“What was this one arrested for?”

“...theft”

“What did he steal?”

“...bread”

They listened as Mortimers bones popped while struggled to sit up, blood dripping down from under his hair down his face. The guards stared at the blooming bruises,looking away as they pushed the heavy door shut again, announcing his confinement with the loud turning of that damn key.

“Shit..”

Mortimer leaned forward, pressing his injured head against the cold metal of the bars when he was overcome with the feeling of being watched. Blinking as slowly as he turned mortimer found he wasn’t alone in that cruel cold, he squinted into the dark recess of the cell and found a woman. Tiefling woman with her knees strapped to a bar that bit into her kneecaps, her hands behind her back and folded so painfully, elbows pointed down and her wrists cuffed and bound between her shoulder blades. Even her tail was twisted into a tight coil and wrapped with rope to keep it from moving, on her face was a steel caged muzzle and the thick rusted collar on her neck bolted to the floor with a short chain, trapping her in a steep kneeling bow.

“...oh shit…what the fuck?”

Mortimer stared before his vision began blurring vision as he slumped low against the bars and passed out. The last image he took with him into unwilling slumber, hateful dark eyes with burning red pits.

When finally he woke up he saw a lump on the stone floor in front of him, slowly carefully he pushed himself up, setting a hand over his stomach. While his vision slowly cleared he laughed as he found himself staring at a bare loaf of bread on the cold stone. He grimaced as he felt his baby turn over, the pressure leaving an ache in his pelvis.

Snatching up the loaf mortimer sunk his teeth in annoyed, why did he need to be in here to get the stupid bread? While chewing his eyes wandered the room, for a moment he found his unwilling companion and eyed her proud horns, curling backward and jutting forward. Marred with red stains and small chips in them as they jutted out from a nest of messy matted black hair.

“So, i was thrown in here for stealing bread. You?”

He asked as his eyes settled on the collar on her neck, old and rusted unlike the rest of the cuffs and chains. Shes worn that a long time…

He looked down at the stale bread in his hands, turning it over. A thought came to mind as he pushed himself up and stood, wobbling as dizziness came over him. He gripped the bars to steady himself and went over to the woman trapped in that pitiful bow

“So, i don't have a lot of time. I cant be in here too much longer. But i don't have much left in me…if i help you will you help me?”

The woman tilted her head as he looked at her, her expression shifted. She was inspecting him. Mortimer tore a small piece of bread off his loaf

“Here, a peace offering?”

Thin shaking fingers pushed the bread into her muzzle, she wrinkled her nose though her tongue flicked out to take it. For a while he just sat there pushing food little bits of bread in until he asked again.

“So, will you help me if i can help you?”

She stared at him with an unsettling stillness before offering a slow deliberate blink. As much of an answer as he would get it seemed. Though he wasn't sure how much help he would be as he found he was dizzy again, slowly he crawled to that little bit of sunlight and laid down to sleep until the feeling passed.

When he woke again he found a bowl of thin soup and another small loaf, stone cold and stale. Again he moved slowly to feed her through the muzzle before feeding himself and trying not to gag as he forced it down. Together they counted watching and waiting for the guards to do their rounds.

When they came to take the bowl, mortimer huddled against he wall away from his companion. Feigning fear. Once their foot steps faded away, he hurried over to focus as much as he could. He set his hands in air over her twisted up arms, watching the wat her muscles tensed. Fair.

Magic was difficult now, it seemed his little one was siphoning it from him.

He focused with everything left in him, just one lock. One. he could do one, right?

“Dissera pulso”

Mortimer whispered, watching the padlock turn over in place though remain tightly shut. A wave of nausea threatened, he turned away, hand clamped over his mouth as he fought to keep everything down. Of all the times to not be able too afford it!

Feeling his baby kick against his belly, mortimers brow set deeply as he forced himself to breathe deeply. She was coming soon and he couldn't be in here when that happened. With as much strength as he could muster, he extended his hands to the small lock holding her wrists in place

“Dissera pulso!”

Her eyes went wide as she heard the lock pop, she twisted and jerked trying to free herself. But it was only one of many locks on her form.

“Free?!”

Her voice ragged and rough as if she'd screamed for hours, the singular word sounding foreign on her tongue. Mortimer reached down to pluck the lock off and fell back against the wall, more exhausted than when he arrived. How could a single but if magic cost him so much?

From the corner of her eyes she watched him slump against the wall and slide down. The little words come at a cost? She worked her jaw as he rolled her wrists, pulling until she heard the chains around her hands tinkle, they were moving! Carefully to not make noise she worked her hands until she felt the cold metal slide down landing on the stone in a light clatter. Her dark eyes darted around at the noise worried someone would hear.

“Can be free…soon.”

She whispered to herself as she struggled to lift and straighten her arms, though she was still bound at her elbows, her stiff hands were free. Reaching down extending her fingers, she felt her nails tap against the thick rope that bound up her tail.

Under her iron muzzle a smile spread so wide it split her dry lip, she curled her hands into tights fists and spread them open wide, flexing the small amount of freedom she had. Unable to turn her head much, she could only look at mortimer passed out on the stone floor from exhaustion. He did what he could… she would have to work now so work she did. Extending her fingers to tap and scratch at the rope binding her tail into a loop, it was as much as she could hope for. Dragging her sharp clawed fingertips back and forth, grinning so wide her face hurt as she heard the soft tearing of one fiber at a time.

Another day came and went in much the same routine, with the addition of mortimer unable to keep down his meager meals and settling to just feed his companion. Today he lay on the floor in that small bit of sunlight as the sound of heavy clanking footsteps faded down that long hall and looked up at the woman, the only person he’d found himself curious of in a long while. Though to be fair he was trapped and her more so, confined as tightly as possible. He wondered why, how dangerous was she?

“Hey…”

Her ear twitched, eyes crinkling in her rest before slowly opening to look at him. The man was fading, worry panged in her chest as she looked at him.

“My name, my name is mortimer…who are you? Why…”

He struggled for a moment to breathe deeply, tongue wetting his lip before he tried again

“Why are you tied up like that?”

Dark brown eyes looked up at her from his place on the floor, her own luminous red returning his tired gaze. The woman worked her jaw before finally opening her mouth and forcing out jagged syllables

“Mmmort eh merrrr”

How strange he felt himself smile at her as he heard his name in someone else's voice for the first time in ages. In the distance a heavy door opened the guards were coming back, so soon? Mortimers smiled dropped as he realized it was probably for him, he was to be sentenced… and theives don't live long once they've been caught. His heart began to race, huffing and puffing, her eyes darted out of the cell bars where a familiar silhouette approached. Adrenaline quickly flooded his veins as the guard came, no food in had

“Well thief, time to go-”

Frail and thin as he was Mortimer summoned every drop of strength in him, outstretching one hand towards his cellmate and bellowing

“DISSERA PULSO!”

The lock that kept the short chain on her collar bolted to the floor, popped open, another soft pop behind her back unbinding the chains that held her arms begins her back. One last pop of a lock unfastening and the muzzle on her face hit the ground. The guard stood frozen for a moment, eyes wide and pupils blown wide in terror as he watched the prisoner unfurl her arms, tail snapping the remaining rope around it. As she stood, she folded her hand around the bar that had been pressed to her knees and ripped it up from its place bolted in the ground. The guard slammed the door shut, opening his mouth to yell for help but not fast enough. That ripped up bar was rammed through the cell door into his windpipe and out the back of his neck.

As the guard pressed his hands against his neck desperately trying to stop the bleeding, the prisoner wore a face splitting smile, revealing sharp black teeth. Her small hand held tight to the bar impaling the guard, watching him thrash and kick until finally he stopped. Slowly carefully she set him down to keep his armor from clattering before she turned around to look at Mortimer. Mortimer who stared up at her, his body shrieking to run as she grinned down at him

“I. am. Dwylla. I. am. strong.”

She said still grinning while she looked around the room and went to the high window shining down from far above their heads.

“...Dwylla?”

He knew that name, but he couldn’t place where he knew it from. The thought nagged at the back of his mind while he watched her grimace, bending her knees to jump and grab hold of the bars on the small window. Mortimer cocked his head to the side wondering what she was doing, that window was just barely bigger than a standard textbook. Neither of them would fit through it.

Unless she ripped the bars out, unless she clawed at the old stone and ripped it apart to make the damn thing bigger

“Come, we go”

Not willing to question it, mortimer forced himself up and went over standing at the floor under her

“I, i cant climb up…”

She looked over her shoulder, down the man was sickly, he’d given her all his food the last few days. His stomach bulged with a little life that sucked from what was left of his own. Dwylla stared down thinking only a moment before her long thick tail hung low for him.

“Hold on.”

Taking a deep breath as he did, mortimer grabbed on to her unusually spiny tail as tightly as he could. Stunned when he felt his feet lift up off the ground, her strong tail raised him just high enough for her to grab hold of the back of his robes and pull him up to the torn open wall. Finally he felt warm on his face, though behind them the distant door creaked open. The other guard shouting on his way in

“Whats taking- WHAT!?”

He froze at the sight of his friend dead on the floor, looking up to the torn open wall where the prisoners escaped. Outside Dwylla moved to run off, they got out. She helped him. That was enough, right?

Mortimer kept one palm against the prison wall, limping away as fast as he could. She stopped at prison corner, stomped her foot and ran back to grab mortimer.

“Huh!? What are you doing- run!”

Dwylla lifted him up in her arms like a sack of potatoes and bolted across the green while bells sounded, notifying the entire prison of their escape. Guards in clanking armor came spilling out of every door to search the grounds for them, one in tower blowing a horn as he pointed in their direction. Entire regiments suddenly hauling in their direction

“RUNNING!”

Dwylla shouted as, mortimer grabbed hold of her shoulders clenching his teeth and trying not to scream when the approached the prison gate. She just, jumped kicking the top of the iron fence to thrown them over to the other side. He watched her swallow an agonized yell when her knees nearly cracked on the landing. Pain shoved to the side they rammed through crowds, Mortimer realized she didnt this place and pointed to an alley

“THAT WAY”

Wordless she followed his direction together they wove through the maze of alleys until the din of yelling soldiers faded to a distant cacophony. Carefully, Mortimer was set down on his own two feet again. He huffed as he leaned against dirty brick walls and spotted a door with a rotting knob, abandoned.

“I think we can hide in here”

“Hide?”

“Yes, we have to hide until those soldier look somewhere else. We can try to sneak away later.”

Dwylla stared at him, nonplussed about to walk off when a pain shot up her leg from her knee. That landing hurt more than she knew and the adrenaline masking it was wearing off

“...yes, we hide”

Grimacing she followed mortimer to the door and forced it open. The door shut with a soft ‘thup’ against its rotting frame, leaving the two to look around a dust laden kitchen. Adrenaline faded quickly leaving the pair panting on the floor,in dusty yellow light spilling in from cracks in boarded up windows Mortimer looked at Dwylla. He looked at the thick collar still on her neck, the way skin bunched up around it. Sickly discoloration as if her skin had torn and healed around that foul metal. It must hurt so bad.

Dwylla raised a leg to rub her sore knee, that stupid bar in the cell had damaged her more than she wanted to admit. The sound of armor and yelling clattering in to the alley caught them off guard, both staring at the door as muffled arguing took place inches away. Their armor clattered like dropped kitchenware as the cluster of guards ran out the other end of the alley, leaving their prey behind.

Mortimers felt his eyebrows go up as the corner of his mouth twitched, hand clapped over his mouth to stifle the sudden burst of laughter. Dwylla whipped around to look at him,heart thundering in her chest before she felt a sound bubble up without permission.

Together the pair laughed so hard their eyes watered and their gut hurt, eventually Dwylla pushed herself up to her bare feet and reached down to grab Morts hand and pull him up. She went to go open the door to let them out, surprised when the knob just slid off the handle, mortimer looked down at the rust rotten bit of brass then at the door. His gaze went up to the frame, realizing part had fallen low. Even a brick feel loose, just low enough to push down and wedge the door jammed shut.

“We cant get out without making a lot of noise this way, lets try somewhere else”

Things they failed to notice as they walked through, were fading brown stain spattered across the counters, the leg broken off a thrown over chair or the clever wedge up in the ceiling, but who would look up for that? The uneven door complained on its stiff hinges, leaving a scrape in the wood flooring. The long hall spattered with unknowable stains, some food and bile long since dried to just a discoloration, old frames with torn painting hanging haphazardly on the walls. It is only in the living room that it becomes apparent that this home once was filled with luxury. A crashed chandelier in bits on the floor underneath a massive scorch on the vaulted ceiling, a turned over candelabra thrown on its site under tattered burned curtains. Furniture thrown all over, a leak in the ceiling leaving a musty smell in the room and puddle of still water in front of the fireplace. Mortimer skirted around the splintered wood to peek out the front doors peep hole, it looked out onto a main street. Speckled in the crowd were guards pointing around and shouting

“No good they’re still out there.”

Dwylla turned her head to the staircase with its loose bannister slumped tiredly outward. She pointed her clawed hand to the top where it looked like light spilled in

“Window?”

“Why cant we have a door?”

He sighed before heading up the stairs, huffing with every step, one hand on his bulging stomach. Dizziness swayed him about halfway up, he grabbed the bannister to steady himself only realize termites had eaten it as it crumbled in his hands. His heart jumped into his throat as he tumbled toward the lower floor, only to feel a the top of his robe tighten before Dwylla yanked him back.

“Bad place, is broken.”

“Yea… yes. Very much”

The higher up they went the more off something felt, Mortimer looked around. Suspiciously eyeing the strange markings on the walls, the cracks and gouges here and there. Broken vases and picture frames, ruined rugs and finally, a wide tall window with perfect glass. Dwylla went to the window frame grabbing the handle and pulling, glad when it didn't fall off though annoyed when the window didn't budge.

“Maybe the wood is swollen?”

“?”

She looked at him confused before grunting as she gripped the handle tighter and yanked. Not so much as a squeak, annoyed and insulted she pulled her fist back. Mortimers eyes went wide

“No no we cant make noise!”

Dwylla grunted surprise when fist connected and bounced back from the glass, both stared with wide eyes as a small blue ripple rolled across the glass. She tried again, fist bouncing back once more, eventually panicking she took position and began wildly punching. Only for a burst of energy to launch her backward, throwing her across the landing flat on her ass. Mortimer hurried over to check on her freezing when a whisper was heard leaking from one of the rooms.

Dwylla shot up to her feet, looking at the door that slowly creaked open. A tide of cold fog rolling out with the rising sound of distant sobbing. He eyebrows went up but her shoulders dropped

“Is cloud crying?!”

Mortimer huffed as he realized the same wave of pain was gripping him again, the wailing in the spreading mist sounded miles away. Mort placed a hand on Dwyllas arm, hunching as he spoke.

“Ghost, i guess its haunted and… we’re trapped”

“Dead things?! Already dead how to kill already dead things?!”

Backing away the pair hurried into another bedroom, just as ruined as the rest of the house. They slammed the door and found that the windows in here were just as firm, Dwylla put her hands in her tangled hair. She whipped her head around at the sound of splattering.

Both of them looking at gloss spilling across the dusty floor as mortimers water broke, both frozen as they realized what was happening,

“NOOO BAD BABY!”

Dwylla yelled as Mortimer took a deep breath, hands on his hips as he realized he was going to have his baby after escaping prison in a haunted house. Anger bubbled up in him as he felt the fog seep under the door, he whipped around brow knit in a sharp glare as he barked

“NO!”

Magic laced the simple syllable and the small cloud was slammed backward, crammed back under the door. Dwylla froze again, standing straight with her hands curled against her chest and tail between her legs as she gawked at mortimer. Mortimer now shuffling to the dirty bed and climbing on

“Well, this is happening now…”

“...but-”

“TOWELS BLANKETS WATER!”

Dwylla yelped as she ran for the bedroom door to check the house for the requested items, out in the hall she glanced around. Surprised to see the area so bland, the fog had rolled back into the open door that was now nearly shut. Standing there in the bland room Dwylla wondered how strong the starving weakling that had fed her for so long actually was. She shuffled around the place into rooms, yanking blankets off beds and beating the dust off them. Dwylla tore open cupboards and drawers searching for towels.

Annoyance and worry wrinkled her brow as she searched before she ran to another room not knowing what might lie within. How stunning when the room was pristine, a little standing cage up against he wall. No top, just wood carves in pretty swirls around the little bars. Inside it a squishy puff all covered in blankets and pillows, pictures of little animals jumping in cartoonish shapes across the fabric. On the floor was a round rug tan in the middle, dark brown circling out and darker brown framing the shape and few little leaf shapes popping out on one side.

Off to the side a dresser, sitting at the top was a basket of fabric and safety pins, tiny bonnets with ribbons. Toys and stuffies scattered across the surfaces, a rocking chair that swayed back and forth on its own. Sitting on its cushion was a lump of yarn and two pointy sticks, the chill in the room left goosebumps up her skin. A shadow swinging across the floor caught her attention, looking up hanging from a ceiling beam was a noose.

Dwyllas breath caught in her throat, she knew what that was.

Someone had given up, given up entirely. The rooms strange cold sank into her bones as she turned away to leave finding the door had closed behind her. Gripping the knob she tried to push it open, twisting and jiggling as she struggled to get out. That strange fog pooled at her feet and the sobbing voice sounded as if across an ocean, the voice treading across the water and leaving a chill biting deep into her skin.

“...give her back…give her back…”

As the voice drew closer, Dwylla dropped the stack of blankets to grip the knob with both hands squeezing hard and pulling furiously. The brass knob crumpled under her grip though the door didn't budge, she turned over her shoulder to see the fog pool together. It clumped together sculpting itself together into a miserable figure. A woman clutched at the empty folds of fabric of her belly where it should bulge, anger and mourning twisted up her face

“GIVE BACK MY BABY!!!!!!!!!”

Her face twists and contorts as she shrieks before freezing in place, in the room down the hall Mortimer can be heard stifling a yell as his contractions grow stronger. The figures face softens and for a moment she is beautiful, her mouth moves though there are no words. Panic turns Dwylla cold as she watches the woman pass through the wall, the lock in her hand suddenly clicking.

No time to be afraid, she rips the door out of the frame rushes back down the hall and bursts into the room where mortimer sits up in bed. Trousers tossed on the floor knees raised and parted as he whips around angry and confused. She didn't bring a single thing with her what had she been doing?! About to yell again, he whipped around to see a ghostly figure glide forward through the wall.

The woman held out her hands with a grateful smile

“My baby!”

Mortimers face drained of color, he watched Dwylla leap in the way trying to block the ghost from getting to him, though it ought to pass right through her. He raised a hand only to grimace and wail as as another wave of contractions knocked the wind out of him. He looked around there wasn't a useful thing in here, for a moment his eyes locked on the collar around Dwyllas neck. Rust like that only showed on Iron.

Breathing in a rapid pace, Mortimer leaned as forward as he could grabbing hold of Dwyllas tail, he yanked her closer to him then reached for her neck. Another massive wave of pain and a strange shifting of weight as he screamed

“DISSERA PULSO!”

The last bit of magic in him shot forward surging through the iron around Dwyllas neck, the rust wasn't strong enough to hold it down anymore. The binding chunk of metal tore itself open ripping off layers of rotten dead skin away from her. The smell of death and ilk flooded the room as dwylla yell out in pain, she grasped her hand around it pulling it away in a wide arc. As the ghost moved forward it collided with the collars path and she shrieked as the old dead iron collided with her near intangible form.

It seemed the reality struck both of them, both Dwylla and the ghost stared at each other until dwylla shifted her hold on the busted metal. Clutching it like a knife she charged

Mortimer fisted his hands in the sheets, clenching his teeth as he leaned forward pushing until he couldn’t stop the scream. When finally he opened his eyes, blue scattered across the room like dust.

Dwylla whipped around, throwing her collar into a corner as she heard a small cry. Mortimer reached down to pick up his baby, the baby he fought so hard to keep. An exhausted smile broke across his face as he lifted her up against his chest loving the sound of her little angry yells. Dwylla stared with wide eyes before frowning at the new baby.

“Bad baby! Why you not wait!?”

One year later

Just outside Candlekeep was a small house, a rough circle make with stacked rocks and mortar. Open gaps as windows with little magic shields keeping the elements out. Rosemary and lavender swayed by the simple wooden door, tall lemon grass riddled the area around the house. Tall sticks stuck up from mounds of dirt, vibrant flowering vines of beans crawling upwards out of a bed of melons.

Mortimer stood at the top of a small hill as he watched his companion walk around their yard, gripping the woven sticks that served as their fence and shaking the posts. As she went along testing the posts and making sure it was sturdy her tail swayed lightly behind her, a small girl with dark hair and red eyes toddled along holding the end of Dwyllas tail. She babbled as she followed along, pausing to reach out to grab the fence, wiggling her butt instead of the fence and looking up at Dwyllas pinprick red eyes.

“...yes, very good”

From his place on the hill Mortimer smiled and laughed. It was hard sometimes to just let them be, but he needed the moment care for the garden. Overhead a few slip dusty clouds rolled by, he looked around their small home that the pair of them had built together. As he looked around it occurred to him there was hardly a scrap of metal anywhere in sight.

Not a damn thing here would ever rust.

#mortimer #dwylla #fic #fanfic #blorbo time FOREVER!

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