#ENCHANTING THE SHADOWLANDS
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bxttxrflybxddie · 4 months ago
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Kinktober Day 1: Dirty Talk - Rolan
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a/n: yippee first time actually doing a kinktober!! this kinda turned into praise but f it we ball
pairing: rolan x gn! reader
word count: 0.8k
warnings: MINORS/AGELESS DNI I BLOCK ON SIGHT!!!!!! unedited, a hint of breeding towards the end, unprotected, not specific genitalia for reader, dom reader, rolan cries but it doesn't hurt, bites, someone tell this tiefling I'm obsessed with him, reader calls rolan baby btw
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One of Rolan’s favorite aspects about you is your voice. 
Ever since meeting you at the grove, your voice has been playing in his head- repeating a constant harmonious tune. The way words rolled off your tongue was enchanting, he was sure you must’ve permanently charmed him. Despite his hurtful beratement in the shadowlands, you’ve continued to be a friend to him and his family. Including saving his siblings and helping defeat his previous master. When you approached him shortly after saving Baldur’s Gate asking for a place to stay, he was thrilled to welcome you as the newest addition to the tower. Not only was he excited for your presence but also to hear your music daily.
Some of his prized memories of your voice have been your first meeting where you cut into his and his siblings’ argument conversation, questioning his plans for the tower, and agreeing to have him be yours.
However, His most beloved melody from your voice is here and now. “You like it when I fuck you like that, Master?”
The wizard would answer obediently whilst on his knees, feeling you up from below and thanking you for indulging him tonight. Alas, you’ve ridden him so long to the point of overstimulation that he can say little but moan in response. 
Suddenly, you grip his jaw and force him to look at you, minding the bruises and bites littered around his neck. He’s pulled into a kiss while you shift your weight for support. He can feel your teeth pulling at his lip, and he’d almost feel worthy of an apology if his nails weren’t digging into the plush of your thighs. You pull away with a thin string of spit.
“This is what you’ve needed, right baby? To be taken care of?” You ask him between your groans. A particularly hard thrust against him knocks a sense of clarity into your Rolan, if only for a second.
“G-Gods, yes!” He manages to reply. It’s been stressful as of late, dealing with the intricacies of the tower. There’s no where else he’d want to be, especially with you, but it’s been a heavy weight to carry nonetheless. When you agreed to let him do nothing but lay back and listen to you, he just about came then and there. Thank the Gods he didn’t, this moment is perfection.
Your hands snake their way back against his chest, helping you push yourself off and on against him.
“You are so handsome, you know that? I love it when you look like this, debauched.” His ears burn until they’re numb, on nights when you bed him you’ve made it clear how attractive you find him. He didn’t think that tonight would’ve been one of those nights as well. Obviously, he was mistaken.
“Answer me.” You purr, slowing your pace to a stop, his throbbing cock nestled deep inside you.
“Y-yes, yes gods- please!” He sputters out, tears threatening to spill from the sudden lack of vigorous movement. You lean down again and kiss the cusp of his ear, biting gently as your speed returns, but not to the same as before. He moans as chills spread against his skin; bringing his nipples to a peak.
“Say it. Say you’re handsome. I’ve seen how you’ve looked at yourself today, looked at what’s mine.” You roll your hips against him with the last word falling from your lips, drawing emphasis. You were not going to accept your love thinking of himself however low he was today, not with the beautiful sight under you currently. His hair stuck to his forehead and horns from sweat, purple blooming on his neck and collarbone, and golden eyes that can barely hold your loving stare.
“I’m handsome..” “Louder.”
“I-I’m,” the tears from earlier have began to fall.”I’m handsome.”
You move your hips to the pace matching his volume. Rolan’s jaw drops with a whine as he realizes what you’re up to.
“You’re what, baby?” “Handsome! Zurgan- I’m handsome just p-please..” 
“That’s right, and all mine.” With your grace, you return to your previous pace- if not more unrelenting. 
Rolan shakes, and you know exactly what it means. A sob from his lips confirm your suspicions.
“Are you going to cum in me, Master? Fill me, claim me as yours?” Rolan can only whimper in agreement, his hands moving to rest on your waist as you brutally fuck yourself on him- chasing after his orgasm. 
The wizard shakes, a degenerate moan filling the room as well as skin slapping skin. Warmth floods your senses as you ride out the last few twitches of his cock, your own pleasured noises accompaning his. 
“That’s it, there you go, baby.” You mutter. His head falls back on the pillows, his throat stretched as he cries throughout the rest of his orgasm. 
After plenty of deep breaths from you both, you shift your weight off of your love and curl up next to him. You invite him into a conversation about his current state of mind before sharing “I love yous” and falling into a satisfying sleep.
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© BXTTXRFLYBXDDIE
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justporo · 7 months ago
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Hunger
When his lover is fully drenched with blood after a fight Astarion cannot resist to sate his hungers - all of them.
You can find the amazing artwork that inspired this piece here! Please also follow and support my wonderful friend and give her some love! <3
MASTERLIST | AO3
A/N: I am still on a quest it seems to write stuff for other's OCs (and I am enjoying it loads to be honest). This time I wrote something for my friend @raphaellearp and her beautiful tiefling paladin Hébée. We hung out late last night, I prompted her to draw Astarion licking blood of her girl, which in turn prompted me to write a little drabble... which led to both of us staying up a whole night, whoopsie.
Pairing: Astarion/Hébée Warnings: blood, light religious imagery, implied nsfw at the end Wordcount: 1,1k ~~~
There was blood.
A lot of it actually.
Fortunately though, it wasn’t Hébée’s and it wasn’t Astarion’s either. It was just that they both had gotten drenched in the Mindflayer colony and there was no easy way to get it off.
But then again, it would be a waste to just get rid of it as long as there was a vampire around, wouldn’t it?
Having dragged themselves back to the Last Light Inn, Hébée was wishing for nothing more but being able to take off her armour and soak herself in a tub. As soon as the tiefling had shut the door behind her and Astarion’s joint room at Last Light Inn she started ripping off bits and pieces of her plated armour. She desperately wished to leave this day behind her. It hadn’t been easy work defeating one of the Dead Three, for neither body nor mind. She wanted rest. And all this blood gone.
Pieces of metal and weapons clattered to the wooden floors as the paladin groaned and worked to get everything off of herself. It was all increasingly becoming too much. She needed to feel nothing but a whisper of fresh air on her strained body.
“So desperate to get your clothes off, my love?” Astarion teased while he watched her tear off armour and clothing.
Hébée simply scoffed while she removed another layer: “Not everything has to be a sultry joke, you know?”
“Oh, but it could be.”
Hébée turned around to her lover with annoyance in her eyes. He was observing her, gaze wandering over where blood was slowly drying on her skin. She noticed how his ruby eyes were flicking over her, tongue darting out to wet his lips.
She truly had been drenched in crimson.
“Don’t say you are this desperate to get some blood,” she snorted as she took off the last piece, leaving her in nothing but her undergarments now.
The look Astarion threw at her was partly offended, partly playful as she turned to him again. When she gazed at him, she also found that there was a tinge of pleading in the crimson of his eyes.
“Astarion,” Hébée said to the vampire, leaning her head to the side. Her tone was now a lot more consoling. “You could have asked at any point.”
His eyes darted away.
Despite everything, Astarion still wasn’t easily made to open up about vulnerabilities
At least now though, Hébée knew to read the signs and Astarion knew not to hide them. Still it was easier for him to express himself in those sultry jokes. Easy to brush it off, just in case.
So Hébée tried her best to make it easy for him. She drew up her shirt she’d been wearing beneath her armour, revealing her bare form beneath.
“I am serious, Astarion,” she murmured as she saw how his eyes were trained on the red wetly glistening splotches all over her skin.
“Take whatever you need,” the paladin continued and let herself fall down on the edge of the bed, opening up the laces of her pants as well now.
“Whatever I need,” Astarion parroted, following after her, too enchanted by her naked body, covered in blood.
Since they had entered the Shadowlands fresh, nurturing blood had been more than scarce. And with the vampire questioning what he really wanted from their relationship, dropping by Hébée just for a bite hadn’t been his top priority. But it had left him struggling, almost starving once more.
But now, as they had defeated Ketheric Thorm, had freed the Shadowlands - there was no real reason to not indulge again, was there? Especially not since it seemed there was already a meal laid out.
Hébée kicked off the last of her clothes, enjoying how the air was now finally brushing over her bare skin. She felt the ache of the past battles and exhaustion, soreness in every joint and muscle. But as she observed Astarion and the hunger in his eyes, she knew there was one more thing to do before she took a much needed rest.
“Please, Astarion, take your fill,” she offered as she observed Astarion also moving to free himself of armour and clothes. “Take anything you like.”
She couldn’t resist letting her hand wander over her naked breasts. Smearing some of the blood there across the chest with that.
“Hébée,” he whispered as he stepped close to her, finally as bare as her. She didn’t even answer anymore, just fixed him with her gaze.
And without another word he just went to his knees before her. Kneeling there like a simple believer ready for worship his red eyes seemed liquid by now.
She knew he was hungering for her in more ways than one. And she was willing to fulfil all of his needs.
Her clawed fingers wandered into his curls while he moved closer.
“Anything?” he whispered while he scooched to be between her parted legs, looking up at her, need, hunger and admiration mixing all into one. With parted lips and his gaze firmly on her, he leaned to her.
The tips of Hébée’s claws softly grazed his scalp - not hurting, only teasing - while she watched how his soft lips enveloped a spot right on her stomach.
She felt his wet mouth sucking on her skin, tongue lapping to catch the blood.
He felt her muscles tense under his touch and the sharp breath she took.
When he lightly began sucking on her warm skin and she could feel his fangs softly press into her abs, she couldn’t help herself. With a moan Hébée threw her head back and revelled in the feeling of her lover’s mouth on her bare skin. It was a soothing cure she didn’t know she had needed.
One of Astarion’s hands came up to wrap the small of her arching back when he moved to yet another bloodstained spot on her abdomen. His ruby eyes jumped up at her when she gasped, watching him lap up more blood from her skin.
“Really anything?” he repeated, tearing away from her only shortly. His breath was brushing over her, making her shudder, making her bite her lip.
“Anything, Astarion,” Hébée replied, almost absent-mindedly opening her legs further for him, arching more, willing him to see that she really meant it.
Astarion’s eyes wandered, from the traces of blood teasing him to yet another thing beckoning to him like a siren song. Right there, right within his reach.
Then they caught the tiefling’s gaze once more, burning, relaying an answer to a question he couldn’t fully put into words yet.
“Don’t mind if I do then, my love,” Astarion purred and moved to sate all of his hungers as Hébée gave into the joy of giving herself, fully.
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bhaal-battle-beer-bard · 27 days ago
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ᘀᘗ нօʟɖ ʍɛ աɨȶɦօʊȶ ɦʊʀȶɨռɢ ʍɛ ᘀᘗ
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📸: by @aristenfromwarsaw
➹pairing: Astarion x female Tiefling Durge (my bard Tav Saulus)
➹summary: Astarion gets a little bit carried away while his midnight feast, but Saulus shows him how to take it slow and what other things they can do to spend the night together. A fluff – fest! Pure pure comfort!
➹content/tags: fluff, comfort, romance, emotional support, cuddles, so much cuddles, smuty flirting, bantering
➹idea: based on pinkberrytea’s wonderful headcanon,thx again,made me so happy
➹listening while reading, inspirational song
➹word count: 10,878 ➹ao3
➹dedication: @pinkberrytea thanks for the lovely hc about them, it was the whole inspiration for this, so this one is for you
@aristenfromwarsaw because every time you make a beautiful pic or gif of Saulus&Astarion it inspires me, but most of all it gives me the burning motivation to actually dare to write something about my Tav. Those mindblowing GIFs and other stuff just making me truly create a writing that I can put it into it every time. Hoping my writing deserves containing your creations. Thank you for making my inspiration bearing fruits through your pretty photography! These GIFs really gave me enough motivation, making me start to write this in the first place! 💛🧡💛
@alpydk I've had the feeling lately that you could use some fluff&comfort at the moment. Always remember: You deserve all the fluff&comfort in every aspect!
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ɦσℓ∂ ɱε ωเƭɦσµƭ ɦµ૨ƭเɳɠ ɱε - 𝒜𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓇𝒾𝑜𝓃 & 𝒮𝒶𝓊𝓁𝓊𝓈
𝒜 𝒮𝒶𝓊𝓁𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓇𝒾𝑜𝓃 𝓡𝑜𝓂𝒶𝓃𝒸𝑒
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"I don't know if I should see it as another curse, that there is hardly any suitable prey for me to find here in these Shadowlands, or as a blessing. After all, it allows me to drink my favorite drop from your enchanting neck so often," Astarion enthused, his voice as playful as a whole string quartet.
Even if it was a bit lost in Saulus’ deep neck, in which the vampire was already lost in anticipation.
"You know that it doesn't take a shadow curse to satisfy your thirst at me. Whenever necessary," the bard answered him, even though she knew that it was just another one of Astarion's wordy banter.
"Beware darling, we don't want you to become a bloodless degenerate. After all, this operation still needs your brain. As chaotic as it may be, you've come a long way and helped us out with your mouth so far very good... All of us, of course."
Astarion laughed smugly into her neck before he started again to spread kisses on the skin there.
That was the reason why Saulus had a harder time paying attention to his words and flirtatious teasing about her persuasion skills at the moment anyway. The way Astarion drank from her had changed considerably.
A lot had changed since the evening when the pale elf had approached her with a strange expression on his face and said that they had to talk.
They had finished off Yurgir the Orthon, so that Raphael could get more information about the pact that Saulusus had already translated. At least the part that was so cruelly carved into Astarion's back and that she had seen after their first night together.
After the encounter with the blood trader Araj Oblodra, the vampire had revealed to her even more about his past or much more the mental scars and traumas it had left him with.
He wanted to be honest with her from now on. Wanted there to be a "we" a “us” and they were more. They both had to find out what this might look like. Because until before the crash of the nautiloid ship, Astarion had not had the opportunity to decide for himself, to have something for himself.
But if there was a possibility of having a place in his heart, Saulus wanted to seize this opportunity with Astarion. He should think about what he really wanted. She, on the other hand, knew from the beginning that the sharp-tongued elf occupied a place in her heart and her whole mind, which she herself had liked to suppress until now. For what good were feelings and a heart overflowing with love, if one stood alone on the edge of a cliff? Jumping only made sense if you were caught and she didn't want to throw herself into the black, yawning, empty abyss of uncertainty.
Now every moment in which she could simply hold his hand already seemed so precious. Nevertheless, it still had to become clear how real this "we" actually was for both of them. How much of the night was left when the sun rose?
Even if the sun never rose at Moonrise Towers. Not yet.
The vampire's teeth brushed over her neck. Noticeable but not hurtful.
The weight of Astarion's body on her own was just as noticeable.
His skin cool on her own. But the longer they lay together, the warmer it seemed to her.
He took his time, didn't just bite her.
At first, the pale elf had taken off their clothes, because he said they didn't want one of the white clothes to get bloodstains. And when they lay on top of each other in their underwear, he didn't drive his teeth into her neck, but kissed it.
His teeth became more and more noticeable and Saulus curbed her shaky breath and hold it for a moment when finally his sharp fang cut into her skin.
"Careful, darling", he whispered in her ear again.
His right hand slid tenderly from her chest, over her collarbone, to her cheek, where his thumb lingered while his fingers lightly gripped the back of her head to gently hold her.
He held her like a lover, not like an undead animal that satisfied his bloodlust on her.
Finally, Astarion bit.
The tiefling bard sucked the air in a short sharp breath, at the pain that ran through her, grimaced under the pain until... until it stopped. The pain disappeared and she only felt Astarion's weight above her, his mouth on her neck and her beating heart mixed with his now loud breathing, his scent and the slightly blurred tent. It became a little unsteady in front of her eyes. But she perceived only one thing:
Saulus heard Astarion swallow, but much more she heard him moan into her neck. After every sip of her blood, which flowed down his throat like the nectar of life that he represented to all of them in the end, the pale elf expelled the air through his nose so as not to have to take his mouth off her throat.
The bard felt Astarion become heavier on top of her, pressing harder against her and his head burying itself even more in her neck.
A deep rumble slipped from his throat and every swallow that could have tickled her ear was covered with a comforting, louder "Mhhhhhhhh" that accompanied his unsteady, trembling exhalation.
The vampire's right hand drove harder into her hair, slid up to her forehead and briefly gripped the base of her left horn before his fingers buried themselves firmly in her hair.
The elf's weight was getting more and more on her and she felt him rolling his hips against hers.
"Astarion," Saulus tapped his shoulder.
"Ah," he exhaled with a comforting sigh after he had released his mouth from her neck with a slight smacking sound. Satisfied, he pushed the air out of his lungs, licked his lips to absorb every drop of the red.
"Oh darling."
Astarion wasn't done with her yet and his tongue slid over her neck before his lips kissed gently on the bite wound for a moment. After that, he kissed her collarbone and the left side of her neck still unusually stormy and firm.
"Could it be that you enjoy this a little too much?"
Saulus carefully put a hand between them and pushed the vampire back slightly.
"Huh?"
Astarion got up from the bard and sat up and only when she looked down at him demonstratively did he understand what she meant.
"Oh..."
His underwear, which had become a little too tight, showed that his midnight feast had torn him away a bit.
The elf just shrugged his shoulders with a grin: "It's hard not to enjoy it with you, darling. You know, slowing down isn't just quite my style. And your blood is just particularly delicious and aphrodisiac to me."
Astarion could grin as much coquettishly as he wanted and wiggle his leg, but the bard in front of him didn't seem satisfied with the answer. Because she wasn't either. She looked at him in silence for a few seconds before she asked seriously:
"Do you like any of it at all? I mean, we wanted to take it slow so you can figure out what you really want. Isn't it much more due to the consumption of blood from rational beings, no matter who it is?"
"Of course I like it. And there's no question about it with you," the elf assured her and straightened his back. He seemed to have noticed that he couldn't even smile away the topic quickly. Saulus was preoccupied with the whole thing. Everything he had said to her. She wanted to learn how to treat him in a new way. That this remained beautiful between them and never reminded him of anything from back then, as it had been with Araj.
"I've told you that before," Astarion added and raised his eyebrow a little. He probably believed that she didn't know this anymore.
Yes, he had told her it was different with her. Their nights had meaning and that he had been attracted to her, that she was beautiful. Nevertheless, his first impulse had been to use his body as a kind of pledge, to instinctively deceive her... What if he instinctively did something again that he didn't really want to do?
Emotionally, he had pushed her away so far, attracted her body. Now they wanted to do it differently. But just because you wanted it didn't mean it would work. Astarion had sounded so sure that night, desperate to tell her the truth, at any cost. No matter what it meant, she should know the truth. See how he really was. And at the same time, he had never sounded more insecure, so unsure and unkowing of what he actually wanted.
"Wait, let me fix this first" The pale elf reached for a handkerchief that he had carefully laid out beforehand and carefully pressed it onto the bard's bite wound before he took the Amulet of Silvanus, which lay next to it, in his hand.
"Te absolvo", Astarion spoke the spell of the Lesser Restoration and the wound had closed when he wiped the handkerchief over her neck again and then took it away. The blood loss had been compensated for and the dizziness had vanished and thus a conversation was more decent.
"Well, when I say it's different with you, I mean it. Drinking your blood is also unlike any other," the elf continued after he had sat back down, "being with you feels very different. It's beautiful. But I just thought if we slow down in the future, I won't act again... instinctive. I don't know what else someone wants in a relationship. So far, no one has ever wanted anything else from me. Always just own myself and use my body for their pleasure or advantage. I wasn't good for more."
A deep sigh escaped his throat and he looked down at the floor, "I wish it was easier that I could just be with you the way I want to. Without... without these feelings of my life so far."
"Can I make it easier for you somehow? Would you rather stay in distance from me?"
"These horns look quite cute and you can use them well to hold onto, but sometimes they seem a bit too heavy for your head," Astarion mocked and tapped her forehead and the cheeky rogue had returned to him, "otherwise you could think better and not spend time with dumb false fantasies. You took my words a little too seriously a few days ago or didn't understand them properly."
"Astarion... don't overdo it with your cheekiness," grumbled the tiefling like a hissing kitten and the elf just laughed amused, at the stubborn face she pulled. It was actually more endearing than intimidating. Even though he knew that it might not be a good idea to irritate her unconscious before going to bed, he was still sure that her conscious was so fond of her that nothing would happen to him.
Or?
The vampire leaned towards her and his ruby eyes sparkled cat-like as always, as if he wanted to jump. His lips against her ear did the rest, not to mention his murmuring voice:
"But darling, so far I've only ever gotten the impression that you enjoy my cheekiness very much. Not to mention..."
Her fingertips on his lips silenced him and Astarion blinked confusedly and was suddenly no longer a cat, but more the deer in the bright light. Saulus had leaned back and looked at him with a crooked smile and shook her head.
Grinning, Astarion took her hand from his mouth and nodded.
She didn't want to get involved in his games. He couldn't avoid a moment of honesty.
Why did she care so much about how she treated him and how he felt?
He would not necessarily have suspected this from someone who always seemed as carefree, nonchalant and cocky as Saulus. She had looked like fun. But with both of them, the fun seemed to have won over to seriousness. Only Astarion would have thought that his confession would change more in him and not in her. But her sincerity towards him seemed to have been correctly assessed by him from the beginning.
Someone who shined all over her face when she laughed and was thus amused by their common puns and her own sayings, recognized when someone only smiled with their mouth and not also with their eyes.  
And Saulus had made it more than clear to him that it wasn't his looks and body that attracted her, but his mouth that interested her. The rest was a bonus. A wonderful bonus. But until now... it had always been the other way around. His presence had only been tolerated because of his looks or his words because of the promise of what his body could do.
"You seem to have taken my words a little too seriously. I didn't think you would," Astarion spoke before he made it clear again so that his little sorrowful little bracket could understand it: "No, I don't want any distance from you, actually not in any respect."
The vampire twisted his mouth a little and fished for the right words to explain it to her: "But don't you know that feeling that sticks to you? Even for a long time afterwards with people who have nothing to do with it? Have you never slept with someone before and regretted it afterwards?"
"Hmm... I do not know. Possibly, yes. I... I can't remember what happened before the crash," the Tiefling sighed deeply as Astarion looked at her expectantly with his head tilted.
"Sometimes I see it clearly in front of me: me on the stage of the tavern and above my scrolls. And then there's just this red curtain and this red noise in my ears. It all blurs as if it had never been real, but it also shows nothing of what should be real."
She shook her head resolutely with her black and red hair. "Never mind. Explain it to me, Astarion."
"I want to be with you in this physical way, feel and touch you. It has nothing to do with the fact that I don't want it and don't enjoy it. It's just... me and my body remember all the times with others that I didn't like. Of the bad touches that you didn't really want and then put up with. This sometimes only comes up in retrospect. I want to be with you in a different way than with the people before. Nevertheless... I don't know anything else than that. And I don't want to reel off my same scheme with you anymore, I'm afraid to do that. Because then I think of...", Astarion grimaced.
Saulus knew this expression from him. He always stepped on Astarion's face when he talked about his life with Cazador so far and didn't really want to put it in his mouth anymore. On the one hand, the pale elf wanted to forget it, but on the other hand, it never let him go. He himself could not let go yet. If it hadn't been until the second Cazador had taken his last breath. Even after that, Saulus wasn't sure if Astarion could let go. With Cazador, the pain and injustice would not be buried.
"I just want to learn to be with you – in any way I can – and free from bad thoughts about the past."
The bard smiled at him. They were nice words from Astarion. Honest words. She appreciated it very much when he could be like that to her. As much as she appreciated his exaggerated appearance and sarcasm, sometimes it made her angry when the vampire almost obsessively covered up every spark of serious thoughts and feelings.
Saulus wanted to give Astarion what he wanted. That was hard for her when she had to think around a thousand corners to see what he really needed for his peace of mind. Because very often people don't want what's good for them. And Saulus couldn't stand it if she did something that would really make Astarion angry or sad.
The vampire lowered his gaze and sighed slightly, "But maybe that's only possible when he's dead once and for all... for good."
Warm hands were suddenly on his and Astarion looked into the friendly smiling face of the bard, who had sat knee to knee, very close to him.
"You weren't touched the way you really would have liked and, above all, always with the aim of sex and not getting emotionally close to you."
Taking by force.
Saulus carefully put her arms around Astarion and pulled him into her warm embrace. He felt how she gave him time to relax and let his own body flow into her gentle form.
"Then just tell me how you would like to be touched, so that your heart feels me," her words glided gently and warmly over his neck with her breath, to which her living presence was so close at the moment that she only needed to whisper softly.
"I... I...", Astarion faltered and his gaze wandered restlessly through the tent, while in reality his eyes were turned inwards and searched within him for an answer, "... I don't know."
The blazing Tiefling eyes looked at him after Saulus had leaned back a little to see his now slightly cramped face covered with gloom. He was telling the truth when he looked like that.
"You're the first to hold me without hurting me."
The eyes with the small flames looked at him in astonishment. Saulus was surprised by his words... at least as much as they stung in her chest.
Astarion was honest with her. But there was also a lot of bitterness and darkness in his eyes, with which he had spoken the words.
"Just like you would be the first to care for what I want. You're the first to want to know what I want, what I really want."
It cost the elf’s self-control not to drop the topic immediately with a sarcastic line. Especially with the expression on the bard's face. This depressed compassion... Astarion was too bitter inside and therefore couldn't decide whether he should be grateful for it or whether he should hate it.
She shouldn't feel pity for him... but on the other side, she should. Astarion wanted for others to understand his pain, to see how the world for him was the last 200 hundred years. The problem was, that in his opinion, they would never ever understand. He was alone there, no one came to save him, like he once already said to Saulus.
No heroes, no blades, no nothing.
The vampire felt the bard's face nuzzling into neck. He literally felt the loving smile on her lips. Her arms held him very close to her again. Warm and protective, although he was actually bigger and stronger than her. Even though Astarion didn't feel that way.
Saulus held him close to her, as if she wanted the hearts of both of them to melt together. Perhaps his cold, undead heart would then warm up.
Astarion closed his eyes and lowered his head. He also felt her closeness and the warmth of her cuddly body.
It was quiet. It was silent. It was beautiful.
The rogue only heard her very soft breathing, the nature around the tent and the pounding of Saulus’ heart. At that moment there were only the two of them. He could breathe her life into his lungs, which she exuded lovingly. The scent of lily, jasmine, blackberry emanating from her hair enveloped his nose benevolently. The taste of lilac, pomegranate, cocoa, gooseberries and grapes of her skin was still on his tongue and impregnated his lungs with her perfume like the air he breathes. Her essence dug under his skin, into his insides and probably for a long time into his heart. Saulus had smiled her way into his heart. Radiant as the sunshine. Laughed and cuddled like daylight on his skin.
Her head kept rubbing against his neck like a cat, brushing his skin with her forehead and nose as if she wanted to bury herself even further in it. His arms pressed her closer to him more instinctively. As if he could show her the true thoughts of his heart with it, if only she were close enough to it. Astarion would have crawled into her if that were possible. Because when he opened his mouth... then at some point it came back, this panicked untouched fuss. It meant survival for him.
Even though he saw now that she and her blood meant life to him and apparently... she seemed to wouldn't let him go again neither.
Slowly, very slowly, they leaned back a little to be able to look at each other again.
"I want this. I want you. Until now, every day of my life was just... simply not mine. You keep going and going... you just don't know how to stop", explained Astarion with lowered voice.
Saulus nodded knowingly.
"I have an idea", she smiled with the friendly smile that had Astarion made believe that she might be naïve and that made him falling for her more and more, "what if we find out together what you like. If you want to. We don't have to of course, we just can be together like... friends. No touching."
"No don't go away. I want to be near you. It feels nice," Astarion snapped immediately.
A gentle smile settled on the Tiefling's lips in response.
"But promise me to let me know, when it stops feeling nice. It is ok. We both have to learn. "
Astarion nodded and looked at her almost expectantly. In fact, he was curious to see what she would do, what she could think of his liking and bringing them closer.
It was not an easy task for him to learn to feel his body again and to discover it for himself after all the years of abuse and torture. The pale elf was grateful that Saulus was willing to walk this path so patiently with him.
The silverhead sat down quite comfortably and leaned back on the cushions. Saulus was very close to him, so close that he not only smelled her perfume, but also perceived her soft breath and literally heard the beat of her heart.
"Just tell me, give me sign, when you don't like it. Don't perform no longer. No more. Ever."
"Oh darling, but I am so good at performing", grinned Astarion like a shark.
"Leave performances to me as bard," she joked back.
"Oh dear, but I am so much better at performing."
She openend her mouth in shock about that burn and then they laughed together. The Tiefling loved his sassy cheeky punchlines. They understood the sarcastic exchange of blows for what it was.
"Let me try this..." The two then pushed the jokes aside and Saulus gently put her hand against Astarion's cheek before her fingers danced filigree to his left ear. The tips of her fingers then breathed the hint of a touch against the delicate skin on the helix of his pointed auricle.
Saulus noticed Astarion holding his breath for a moment, while her fingers continued to stroke delicately down to his Antitragus and finally lovingly caressed his earlobe.
The elf closed his eyelids and sealed his ruby vampire eyes behind them. His shoulders sank back a little further, but he didn't move his head an inch.
Her index finger gently ran back the pointed arc of Astarion's ear helix, while her thumb and middle finger followed the same path and gently stroked the skin.
Finally, her fingers continued to dance over the tip of his ear behind the crus helicis over the tragus, then tenderly stroking the arch of the antitragus and tragus at the same time. From there, her delicate fingertips glided to the inner smaller arch of the anthelix and lovingly and caressingly traced its shape.
Astarion giggled briefly and shrugged his shoulders "That tickles"
"Is it good?"
"Yes, you can endure it. It's not entirely bad," he shrugged his shoulders and wrinkled his nose playfully unaffected.
"Oh... well then" Saulus took her hand away and leaned back a little.
"Hey!" Astarion opened his eyes wide and looked at her in protest. “No! Where are you going? Don't stop!" he grumbled immediately.
Grinning to herself, she shook her head briefly: "Good."
The elf immediately posed again and closed his eyes again and Saulus continued to stroke the thin skin of the scapha of his auricle with her fingertips.
Astarion's face visibly relaxed, and the Tiefling could see his lips curling and twitching when she touched a particularly tender spot. The breath of the vampire with the white curls was calm, very careful and when he exhaled he sometimes sighed a little relaxed.
Lovingly and gently, her fingers glided again and again over the shape of his ear: downwards and upwards - the fingertips or the sides of her fingers as if they were dancing on the surges of waves or playing the strings of one of her instruments, making them sound caressively.
As quietly as possible, the bard slid to his right side to give the same attention to Astarion's right ear.
Under faltering quiet breaths of Astarion, the Tiefling bard tenderly stroked from his ear slowly down to his neck. The flames of her eyes had fallen on the bite marks on Astarion's neck.
Another trace of his past. Another scar he wore. Scars that he himself never saw in the mirror. But... did they hurt him when he touched them? Because they hurt his soul?
Saulus wanted Astarion's body to belong only to him from now on. Only him alone. No memories of anything or anyone else. He should be free. Free to live. Free to feel.
Her fingers wrote a poem on his skin. Astarion sensed that. He could not understand and read the words, but he felt them. He felt her touch of silk, in his ears and the beats of his heart a sound of an unsung song, and on his lips the memories of the taste of champagne, strawberries, honey, cinnamon, and grape lemonade.
The words of a poem that he didn't need to understand, then the words of her caressing fingers caressing the contours of his neck, excitingly touching his carotid artery, that was a language Astarion understood best.
Her fingers deliberately danced to the bite marks on the right side of his throat to caress them attentively and massage them gently. Astarion twitched very briefly and hold is breath for a second, but when the Tiefling's lips rested on the skin of his neck, a short pleasant shiver ran over his entire skin.
Saulus’ lips lovingly rested on his bite wounds and began to kiss them tenderly.
Gentle so gentle.
Again and again her full, warm lips lay on the marks... the marks of his death and possessions. With the wonderful little sound of separating skin, her soft lips parted from his pale elf skin. Short cold and then again the wonderful warmth of her kisses.
All of a sudden, the bite wounds were no longer marks of possession, they were simply a part of his throat that was given wonderful attention.
And if it were up to Astarion, she would never have been able to stop.
He felt only her and he felt only the wonderful tenderness. The shiver and the pulses of electricity that she sent through his skin, his nerves, his whole body.
Warmth seemed to flood through him, as if her lips would breathe life into him with every kiss on his neck, on his bite marks, her life and new life for him.
The elf did not open his eyes once.
Even after Saulus had finished and looked at him expectantly, it took a few moments for Astarion to open his eyes again. A slight smile could be seen on his lips.
"I think this is something I like", he said.
"You think?"
"I am pretty sure. But don't imagine anything about the two of us, I..."
Again, the implied fingertips of Saulus on his lips silenced him. Her hand fell down, over his shoulders to his back, where she ran her hands up the ridges of his scars, over those lines of infernal letters. Carved into his skin forever.
Saulus looked at it perplex and wondering.
"What is it?", Astarion wanted to know.
"Nothing," the Tiefling quickly shook her head, knowing that it would only make him angry.
"What about my back?" the Vampire didn't let go.
"Please don't be mad at me," Saulus sighed and was already preparing to got scolded "but sometimes I just forget that the scars are there. I know you, on the other hand, you never will forget."
She already avoided his gaze: "I'm sorry."
"You don't have to be sorry," he said after a while and the bard dared to raise her head again, looked surprised into red vampire eyes.
"You're the only one of us who can see these scars, and yet they never cease to surprise you. And yes, I will never forget that they are there. I always feel it. Now the question is whether I attach too much importance to them or you too little."
A slight shadow had returned to his face. His scars continued to be a painful issue. Just as everything that had some kind of meaning to do with Cazador was painful. But Astarion hadn't shut her out this time.
The bard's Tiefling eyes looked at the scars on Astarion's back for a moment, but there was no pity, no regret or anything else in her eyes and the vampire recognized that too. He wrinkled his brow questioningly.
"Lie on your stomach," she said so suddenly that Astarion still couldn't follow her.
"I begging you pardon? What for?"
"I want to try that you might get a different relationship to your scars. You feel them differently... just feel your body again. Would you like that?"
"And what do you have in mind, Darling?" asked the silverhead after he had already laid down on his stomach and blinked up at Saulus in anticipation.
"Do you prefer it warm or cool?", Saulus’ question left Astarion no less surprised.
"Hmm... well, aince my own body is always very cold, I would prefer warm, I would think," he answered her honestly calculated and the vampire continued to watch with a puzzled look as the bard began to rummage in her utensils.
"Relax, make yourself comfortable," he heard her say in his direction and so Astarion snuggled up in the pillows and blankets and just waited.
The bard returned with brushes, her ink and paint. In addition, candles and bowls - all of which she set up next to Astarion.
The elf with the white curly head understood more or less what she was up to.
"Would it be okay for you if I traced the lines? Maybe then you can perceive them a little differently. Associate something nice with it."
"So far, you've been right. Let's try it."
The head with the silver hair now rested on his folded arms. The lit candle lingered under the bowl into which Saulus dripped her writing ink from the vial before her hand hovered selectively over her brushes.
"Say right away if you don't like it."
"I'm not that fragile, my Sweet."
"I know that you are not a rose in the rain, bending until too many raindrops smash it and scatter all its petals into the storm. Nevertheless, I want to take care of you."
"Is someone poetic again and writes the next ballad in her head? When you write about me, give due credit to my fabulousness, yes? I mean, when you look so good, it's worth a few songs."
Saulus rolled her eyes: "Astarion... I hope you don't really believe that your appearance is your only quality. Because honestly, for someone who doesn't have a mirror image, he should concentrate on something else."
"Are you getting cheeky again?"
"Excuse me, but being cheeky is my quality if you drive me to do it," the Tiefling grinned challengingly all over her face.
"All right, maybe I really overdid it and annoyed you too much. Don't let yourself be disturbed. Keep going. I'll let you know if it doesn't feel good."
The slender bard fingers with the sharpened Tiefling nails reached for the brushes. She deliberately chose a brush with scrutinizing eyes and its soft hair soon nestled against Astarion's neck, his shoulder blades and on to his back, where she first began to stroke the lines of his scars with the velvet brush hair.
The pale elf was still shivering with delicate tingling and tickling. His whole scalp seemed pleasantly stimulated, down to his hind head and finally along the neck and upper spine to his muscular shoulder area.
The fine brush hairs breathed an extraordinary feeling on the smooth ivory skin, which immediately turned into exciting waves and tingling. As if you were being massaged with pure cashmere on your bare skin. So exquisite.
"Is that good?" the bard asked.
"Mhm," the white-haired high elf nodded, only resting his head on his hands.
The brush now dipped into the warmed writing ink and then found its tip again on Astarion's skin. The infernal letters were now neatly repainted by Saulus, point by point, stroke by stroke, line by line.
The tickling brush tip with the warm ink on his cool skin felt like a gentle electrostatic discharge. The feeling was not limited to the passages of the infernal letters that Saulus warmly traced. No, the sensation of the wave flooded Astarion's whole body.
"Mhhhhmmm," Astarion sighed pleasantly in between and turned his head a little, "Is that what you do in hell? Is that some exotic infernal sex technique you got from there?" he teased her again with his playful voice.
"You know very well that I have never been to hell. The lineage of devils and demons is so long ago. Even if I did, I can hardly remember anything and seem to belong somewhere else when I listen to the little cryptic that Sceleritas Fel tells. As we know from Karlach, the smell of hell doesn't leave you so easily."
"Sceleritas?" Astarion grimaced questioningly.
"The butler I told you about."
"Ah. The little bloodthirsty butler who whispers murder in your ear. But you don't seem to be afraid of him or hate him."
"No, I actually think he's quite funny with his hat and the way he talks."
"It's funny that no one but you have seen him yet, darling." A crooked grin adorned Astarion's lips and he revealed his fangs. "Really, sometimes you could almost think you're making him up him like an imaginary friend."
"Nobody saw me kill the bard either, and yet it happened," Saulus answers matter-of-factly but a little stiffly. The thing with Alfira hung over her and no one should think that she was a bloodthirsty lunatic. Something was going on, but she didn't know what because the damn butler didn't spit out a useful word.
“Oh, I’ve seen how you can easily take out an entire bandit camp in one fight. It's more than just real how great you are with the crossbows. But instead of talking about what seems more realistic, tell me what secret tiefling sex practices you have hidden from me so far. What else are you hiding up your sleeve?"
"Astarion!", Saulus reprimanded him playfully and laughed, "Stop it! Otherwise, I'll smudge the ink."
So the pale elf just enjoyed the brushstrokes with the warm writing ink again and actually began to feel his back differently somehow. At first it had been a little strange, but only the first few seconds. But after that he had relaxed, relaxed his head, followed his body, because the skin on his back had immediately liked the caressing, gentle strokes.
So Astarion perceived only Saulus, her closeness, her touches.
The warmth in the tent and the flickering and the scent of the candles.
"Does it bother you?" Astarion asked suddenly.
"What?"
"That my body is so cold..."
"No. When we're together, you don't feel cold, I think. If so, then pleasant. And even if... Maybe I have a flame of Avernus in me after all and I'm warm enough for both of us."
Saulus smiled lovingly down at him before she rewrote the infernal pact again with complete concentration. Because for her it was that: writing.
Just as she had been able to read it from the beginning. Read what Astarion hadn't seen and didn't know what it actually was.
"Cazador made you all believe that it was a poem, you told me," Saulus said after a while in the middle of it, continuing to trace the lines on Astarion's back with precision, as if she were being paid for it, "how about... if I really write a poem on your back. You know, to symbolically paint over it, rewrite it..."
"I can follow your great theatrical bardic logic, darling. Go ahead... if you want to write a poem about me to pour out your heart and confess your infinite love for me, don't force yourself. But if you write about me, then also mention my beauty properly," Astarion concluded in a speech as theatrically emphasized as always. A stage actor had been lost in him. He just couldn't resist to tease Saulus again.
She didn't like him making jokes about love. But Saulus knew what was meant. And unfortunately Astarion was right: she liked it when he teased her and made fun of her. Saulus lived for sarcastic verbal battles.
"Of course Astarion, don't worry. You don't expect the sunset to admire you back."
"Ha exactly," he grinned contentedly like the sunset until he noticed that she might not have complimented him after all. "Hey wait!", his face grimaced gremlin like "Am I the sunset or you with your writing?"
The vampire clicked his tongue and his eyes sparkled cat-like again: "Cheeky little pupp!" It was more a praise than a reprimand from his mouth.
Thus rolled off his tongue, everything was praise for Saulus.
The man purred like a cat and his voice was ecstasy turned into words.
Saulus smiled, which Astarion of course couldn't see. She had already written poems and ballads about him. All safely stored in her bard book. Tightly closed and a secret to herself. She wouldn't put it on his nose.
Especially after some of her scrolls of poetry that she had written for bard competitions she had always participated in disappeared after Volo came to the camp...
"Done," Saulus put the last point to conclude the paragraph of the infernal pact. But it wasn't anymore. She hadn't really read it either. She had rather painted for herself. She had looked at Astarion. His back. His scars. What they meant to him. What he felt, had felt.
And always just the hope that he could now feel something different.
Warmth.
Caressing touch.
Gentle guidance.
"Oh...", Astarion needed a while before he moved again and lifted his head up.
"Have you fallen into a meditative trance?" asked Saulus.
"I relaxed."
"So it was okay? Did it feel good?"
"I already said that I am open to your exotic little Tiefling secrets," the vampire grinned.
"Stop the teasing, Astarion!", laughed the bard about the incorrigible rogue.
"Give me a moment, before I clean you up, alright?"
So the vampiric elf made himself comfortable again, while the bard put her utensils back to her writing stuff. Then she soaked a cloth with water and slowly wiped the ink off Astarion's back again and then carefully patted him dry with a towel.
A giggle suddenly escaped the white-haired vampire's throat as Saulus’ nails lightly hit his sides and he rolled around on his back.
"Wait... there are still a few drops," Saulus said and grinned from ear to ear, trying to keep a laugh to herself.
The bard gently wiped the last drops of water from Astarion's skin that had run from his sides to his belly, while the white curly head giggled softly again under the gentle touches behind pressed lips.
"You squeal at least as much as the owlbear cub when you tickle its tummy."
"Pah! Not at all," snorted the elf.
"I'm sorry, of course not." The grin on her lips, which was difficult to suppress, took the credibility out of her words. Saulus briefly tucked a strand of black hair with red interwoven streaks behind her ear, before she bent down and breathed an apologetic kiss on Astarion's belly button.
Astarion's lips pressed together in tension as Saulus suddenly slid down and lay down between his legs. With an incredible timidity, her hands rested at the sides of his hips and rested on his pale, smooth skin.
Astarion's smooth, flawless elf skin. A skin that Saulus had often admired.
Because Astarion was everything she wasn't.
He was a High elf, she was a Tiefling... somewhere a descent from the depths of the hells and in reality... maybe even worse.
But she didn't think of that. That didn't count.
It only counted the present. Only him.
Astarion and her lips on his skin.
He sucked in the air sharply as her head sank below his belly button onto his silky soft skin. Lips that nestled just as softly on it left a warm and gentle kiss on it.
That was all that Saulus did all evening:
She touched him with such care, tenderness, velvety caressing.
Fondling, kissing.
It was never there in any way to arouse him or stimulate him further.
Only tender caresses.
Tensely and attentively, he watched as the bard leisurely loosened her lips in order to deliberately press them back onto his skin a centimetre away, so that no spot remained unkissed. Her filigree fingers always lay exactly next to where her lips had been before. An interplay as if she were composing a song on his skin again, which probably only she really understood. Because Astarion could only feel it.
Felt her kisses and delicate fingers breathe a blanket of silk onto his pale, smooth skin. It was so incredibly gentle and Saulus really made an effort because every one of her elegant movements was made conscious.
Astarion saw it when she returned to his navel and kissed down, how carefully she took care not to go too far with her head and lips.
And she kissed herself again up to his sides and her hands lay with graceful fingers, with pointed nails so gently to his sides that it glided like a gentle breeze. Her lips warm on his skin, her thumbs stroking softly his skin.
It was all so harmless.
Tame.
Good-natured.
Sensitive.
Careful. Affectionate. Tender.
All words Astarion did not know in his life.
He had always been an attentive, intimate lover, yes. But only to... well....the outcome was known.
But nothing had been peaceful and velvety like Saulus’ touch. Nevertheless, so intense and electrifying. Her lips kissing a trace just below his belly button and her hands following them like the moon following the sund.
Her fingers felt like the feathers of angelic wings. How could these hands, which had literally torn another bard to shreds in an unconscious trance, be so gentle and loving? It seemed almost unreal to Astarion when he thought about it. But it was so, and for him she was always much more his angel than a violent devil. Even if he wasn't stupid enough that he didn't know that you had to keep an eye on dark tendencies. Especially when dark inclinations were accompanied by strange, invisible butlers.
It was all a bit unreal how he watched her in her tender actions and tried not to be overwhelmed by this pleasant feeling.
A smile upon her face, a gentle brush against his brow and soft kiss on his forehead – and the Tiefling bard and the pale rogue with the undead eyes sat together like the night began.
She had finished her "spoiling program" and Saulus had very much hoped to have read all his signs and body language correctly, so she could only rely on him to be honest with her.
That Astarion had really liked it and that he would have told her if it hadn't been like that. She had to be able to rely on it. Because the thought that it was different... it really made Saulus sick inside.
He laughed at her because she his words too seriously? Well, just the thought that she could be like one of his victims, people he despised and had therefore seduced and taken with him, he had endured, yes that really turned her stomach.
That Astarion would ever again do something he didn't want, that he thought as little of himself as he had spoken of himself in the night, that he should have just bitten the blood merchant for the potion. She didn't want to hear that and never wanted to see the expression on his face again. But she didn't want to see any lies on his face either. She loves his theatricality. But not the overplaying and lying. And she had noticed relatively early on that something was going on with him that he was hiding, but she had ignored it because she had trusted that he would talk to her.
Saulus looked at him suddenly unusually serious, after they sat together again.
"I assume that you will be honest with me in the future. I understand that sometimes you don't know what you really want and what is good for you. I try to understand what is good for you so that I can avoid unpleasant things right away. 'Cause hurting you in any way is absolutely the last thing I want. I never want to be the reason you feel uncomfortable. I couldn't stand that."
"My my, look who is all lovey-dovey with me," Astarion's lips pulled up in a mocking manner and his eyes flashed under his sharp-tongued comment.
"Keep up talking like that and I'll think about it again and take it back," Saulus grumbled angrily and grimaced so that her Tiefling eyes sparkled grumpily under her horns.
"Haha, that's nothing you can take back, Darling," the pale elf just laughed and was visibly enjoying himself.
The more Saulus grimaced and looked like a cross between a stubborn cat and a baby goat, the more Astarion had to laugh smugly. He found her angry face only wonderful. Nay, if she did not aim a crossbow at one, or pluck her lyra strings to let loose a malicious spell, he would find her angry face only dearest.
Even though he had a hard time trusting, he could hardly believe that this woman would ever hurt him. Someone who had a fit of laughter when someone received a real insult, but had half tears in her eyes when he didn't want to cuddle with her and the owlbear, because the cub disturbed his meditation with his whistling at night.
"Astarion, I'm serious! I just want to take care of you and I also want you to take more care of yourself. It goes without saying that I want to protect you from injury in battle. But even so, I want to protect you from unpleasant things if I can. But I can only do that if you are honest with me and I know how you feel, how you really feel. Vulnerability is not a weakness," Saulus’ words became more and more vigorous and you could see that alone in her determined, dogged expression. She was damn serious and talked herself into a bit of a rage, because she believed that Astarion just didn't want to understand her. It wasn't a joke for her.
None of that.
She didn't find anything funny about it when it came to the things that depressed Astarion. And they did. Except that after his confession, the vampire immediately put his mask back over it.
"I just want to protect you from unpleasant things, whether physical or emotional. No matter from whom, no matter how. Because that's what you do, for people that you...care for."
Saulus bit her lip hard.
She had talked herself a little too much into a rage.
She almost said 'for people that you love'. She was just able to pause.
To speak of love now would definitely be too early, she knew that. That would overwhelm Astarion.
But since his confession and his question if she really wanted to try to have something like a decent relationship with him, he had opened the floodgates for her own feelings, which she had apparently closed so carefully.
Since Astarion had seen nothing in them but a little fun, she hadn't let it mean anything more to her. At least that's what she had said to herself. Perhaps she had lied to herself more than the vampire had lied to her, if she believed this herself. She had simply ignored as long as Astarion was around every day that it was his smile that she secretly got up for every morning.
After all, she had only been waiting to end this loose game after he had spoken to her. And you could only immediately and willingly commit yourself to someone if you were already in love with him. And she has been since the first moment.
Now that she knew that her feelings were not unrequited, they were not just loitering around somewhere in her heart and in the form of songs and poems. No, Saulus was well aware that she would do anything for Astarion. Absolutely everything. Because he meant so much to her.
"Keep spoiling me like this and I don't know how to return the favor," smiled the rogue mischievously.
"Since when have you been so selfless? Besides, I've told you before that you don't have to return the favor if I do something for you. I don't expect anything in return, that's not why I do it.”
"Oh... so you are always at my service without getting anything in return? Watch out, otherwise I'll become even more self-indulgent."
He winked and before the bard had any retaliation ready, Astarion carefully pulled Saulus by her hand to him.
"Come here..."
Saulus was about to say something and opened her mouth to counter Astarion's endless sarcasm of the evening, but when he pulled her towards him and spread his arms, she silenced.
Gently and kindly, the vampire embraced her in his arms. Astarion was always cold and yet Astarion was always warm.
The bard was probably almost as surprised as the vampire himself, a few days earlier when she hugged him during their conversation to show him without words that he was important to her.
It surprised her, because at that very moment it seemed to her, as if Astarion had forgotten what a hug was all these years ago. As if he had to learn how to do it again. After her initial surprise, Saulus snuggled into the hollow of his neck.
She felt him and inhaled his scent of bergamot, rosemary and brandy.
She stroked his skin with her nose and took everything from him deep inside her.
A hug could often be more heartfelt and intimate than sex. It was what you wanted much more, to be close to your partner.
Their hearts were close together. Astarion's undead vampire heart, which worked in its own way. In every sense.
Full of pain, hate, grief, envy, sadness, anger and yet still carrying the spark of hope and love within it. Still fighting. Always fighting. Always beating.
Next to it was Saulus’ heart, somehow forged in the fires of Avernus between Asmodeus and Zariel and perhaps even more between love, songs, flowers, blood and wine. Her head was as full of holes as it was full of songs.
All the touches...touches, caresses that didn't hurt. Nobody held him by force. Nobody held him close even though Astarion just wanted to get away, pressed him to the ground with a weight that he didn't want to feel.
No, he held Saulus close to him. Wanted to feel her body, her warmth, her closeness. He wanted to be held by her. Closer. Closer. Tighter.
It didn't hurt. It felt good.
It pushed away all the thoughts, all the memories of unpleasant touches.
Suddenly there was only her.
Her tender, loving, patient touches.
She was the first to hold him and touch him without hurting him and Astarion noticed that he wanted her to never let go.
“I may not be very seriously going through life: Laughing, joking, giggling, making love”, started Saulus to explain herself very sincerely to him, “but believe me, I will do and won't do anything for you. When you understand. Just say the word and I will burn down this world to ashes or lock myself up in a cage.” Blazing flames in the true Tiefling eyes of Saulus.
Not flames of Avernus, flames of sincerity. Her heart close to his chest, his beating yet undead heart. Brought back to life. More alive than ever, since he had known her. His cold hand on her warm dusk-gray cheek.
Nothing but truth in her expression.
She might actually burn the world down for him, or throw herself into the darkness…just to protect him. From others. Or from herself.
“Oh my dear, that we won’t my darling. Won’t we? If so, it is me that will lock you up in a cage.”
His charming voice whispered from his throat and was perhaps worse than any spell could have been. Confusing and possessing the mind forever.
“You worry about what you would be willing to do for me? That it makes you angry that someone could hurt me? Well, my cute little lamb, I'll only start to worry about that when you stop making hold to help and adopting every gnome that comes along."
"Tell me... what's it with you and gnomes?" Saulus raised a thin eyebrow and tilted her head. "Something happened, didn't it? I mean, this isn't the first time you've said something like that. Admit it... you don't like them because you had to bend down so low to seduce them and it made your knees hurt!"
Astarion had overdone the teasing for this evening and Saulus had finally had enough of not giving him a counterattack. After all, they both lived for taunting arguments. But they preferred it when they could fool others together. (Gale in particular had had to endure that many times)
"How dare you?!" Astarion stuck his chin up in the air insulted and piqued about her gnome comment. “Someone should wash out that dirty mouth of yours thoroughly.”
“Oh yes? And who should have the means to do that?”
“I know exactly how to handle bad girls, my dear,” the elf whispered in his seductive voice that was no less sweet than honey. His red eyes sparkled like an ocean of rubies, but also like a wild cat in the night. His lips now much closer to her face and her ears, his dashing smile on his elf face literally cut the tension to shreds again.
“Do I want to know?”
“Well…it depends…it depends on what you like and what you don’t like. But knowing you…you’re open to anything. Your fabulous screams should still be ringing in the ears of the priest of Loviatar,” purred Astarion.
"Or..." Saulus interjected and the Tiefling snuggled into Astarion's neck again, the tip of her nose caressing his skin, "...or we carry on with this."
The cold vampire was the warmest thing there was for her. The tent in the middle of the shadow cursed land like an enclave of light, love and warmth of heart. As if the light could shine from there into the whole world. Well, at least it illuminated Saulus' whole soul.
Finally, she laid her head on his shoulder, her eyes closed, her arms around him.
"I really like that," she just had to whisper.
"Me too," Astarion whispered back, his crimson eyes resting behind his lids with long eyelashes. His white curls rested against Saulus' head with black hair that was interspersed with red strands, making it look more violet.
Astarion didn't need his eyes to see her in front of him. Her silhouette was already burned into his mind's eye. A beautiful memory that hopefully nothing could take away from him. With his arms around her shoulders, he pulled her close to him and he just had to feel her.
Her closeness.
Her warmth.
Her affection.
All the love she showed him.
Patience.
Attention.
Her laughter.
Her nonsense. Her voice. Her music.
Her life.
Her life that she let him drink. Willingly offered.
The tenderness of her hands and even more so of her eyes. Her lips, when she sometimes said such incredibly lovable and sweet things that he couldn't believe how someone so cute and naive could still exist...or then again be so cheeky.
It was hard for Astarion to see that he deserved all of this.
200 years in the dirt.
Torture, dirt and humiliation.
Pure hatred. A circle of violence and hatred.
And suddenly he was lying here in the tent with this Tiefling bard, cuddled up together. Heart to heart. Holding her hand and not really knowing what to do with it.
With himself.
With her.
With all of this and the feelings.
So much had happened, so much in such a short time. That's how it was for all of them. Astarion was used to people always expecting things from him. But Saulus...she didn't expect anything that he couldn't give her. For her it was okay to just see what the next day brought.
So Astarion just held Saulus in his arms and let her hold him tight. Head to head.
Dream to dream.
Uncertain future to uncertain future.
Shoulder to shoulder.
Unsteady undead heart to unsteady pulsating heart.
"We should try to get some restful sleep anyway," the Tiefling remarked.
"Which is a difficult thing in these lands anyway..." sighed Astarion and the white-haired elf stretched, slid down and began to stretch on the bard's lap almost like a cat, "...with all the strange noises echoing through the darkness, nightmares are the only thing that nestle in your head."
The vampire snuggled his head into Saulus' lap, his eyes already closed again, muttering his words to himself and the bard didn't know whether he just liked to complain or whether he meant it seriously. Because Astarion seemed pretty sleepy to her, the way he had snuggled up next to her.
But...she didn't like the word nightmare. "How should someone get a good night's sleep or find a meditative trance that way," he continued to grumble.
"But..." suddenly one of the ruby-red eyes opened again with a crooked grin, "...maybe you have something up your Tiefling sleeve to calm my head and mind."
A knowing laugh accompanied Saulus' fingertips, which tapped over his forehead to his temples, then cheeks and finally carefully stroked his head, which Astarion snuggled contentedly against her.
Just as her hands carefully played around his white curls, a very quiet melodious humming gradually danced around his pointed elf ears. A melody slipped from the bard's throat and the humming made her chest vibrate gently.
As she stroked Astarion's forehead with her fingertips, lost in thought, and occasionally very carefully ran her fingers through the roots of his curly hair, her head and vocal cords remembered Alfira's song. The hummed Weeping Dawn glided through the tent.
"Are you humming The Weeping Dawn?" the elf asked in disbelief.
"Oh, I'm sorry..." he pulled her out of his thoughts and Saulus stopped immediately, "but it really is a catchy tune."
"Is that the real reason why you killed Alfira? Because you were jealous that she wrote such a beautiful song? Even if only with your help... and my present inspiring beauty of a muse, of course..." Astarion joked, grinning provocatively across his face.
"Definitely not! At least not consciously. I mean, it was an accident..." Saulus protested, but immediately pulled a face like a bear that had been caught with its paw in a jar of honey. Unlike Astarion, she didn't find what had happened funny at all.
“You sing much more beautifully than she did anyway,” Astarion shrugged his shoulders casually, snuggled up again and wrinkled his nose as a sign that he didn’t really care. Or that he wanted her to believe that.
“You think my singing is beautiful?” the Tiefling asked almost in disbelief.
"Which isn't difficult, after all she sang terribly. And yes, I think you sing very beautifully," Astarion whispered just loud enough for both of them to hear, but quiet enough for him to deny it again if she asked.
Saulus didn't mind his constant sarcasm. That was their way of dealing with each other.
A happy smile spread from her lips across her whole face at his compliment.
“Sometimes I remember a life as a bard. Music and performances.
It seems at least as real as it seems like a mirage.
And then there's this red carnage in my head and then emptiness. Nothing but blackness."
"Oh oh little love... You don't have to act even more mysterious because of me, I already like you," Astarion joked in his typical tone of voice for these kind sayings.
“We’ll find out more at some point.”
The elf snuggled back into her lap and found his perfect “meditation hollow” again.
“Sing me one of your songs instead, I’m sure I like them better anyway,” Astarion murmured with his eyes already closed.
“I don’t know. I think she did a perfect job with the song. She didn’t even need our help, the words were inside her the whole time,” Saulus had nothing but admiration for The Weeping Dawn.
“I want to hear one of your songs,” the vampire’s voice from her lap sounded a little clearer than before. His tone had become more nuanced. It might only have been half an octave lower, but it betrayed Saulus sincerity and he moved away from his banter, where you never knew how much of it was just for show and how much was actually meant.
“Gladly,” a gentle smile played around her lips. Her fingertips gently stroked Astarion's forehead and the Tiefling saw his lips and the tips of his nose curl briefly and he exhaled relaxedly. Her eyes wandered over the pale skin of his face, over bite marks on his neck.
The lids with the light eyelashes relaxed over his animalistic, crimson vampire eyes. A soft, melodic humming came from the bard's throat and remained behind closed lips.
And while her eyes looked at each of his curls, her fingers played between them as delicately as if they were the strings of her lyre. Saulus followed the wavy curve of his hair while she stroked his curls soothingly, as she had previously stroked the arches and curves of his pointed ears. Humming, she stroked Astarion's hair as if she wanted to play a duet with the waves of the sea.
The scent of the candle and her warm ink, paired with Astarion's own note, began to change. Saulus saw Astarion in her memory in the moonlight, his hair shimmering like silver, just like his words, even if the next morning they seemed like a deceptive dream that had disappeared into the halo. Her nose remembered the scent of leaves kissed awake by the bright morning sun. The rays of the sun that seemed to taste of her colors of orange and red. As if the forest had returned to her tent.
Her lips opened and Saulus began to sing the words to the melody:
„Follow me into the forest of honey golden lies
Your words like cinnamon but underneath there is a fire
Golden Dawn or is it an inferno?
Golden words blazing fire into my heart
Holding you is like holding onto a flame
Flames burning high
They say you can’t hold a flame
But what if we be both burning bright
With flames reaching the sky?
Nothing left than ashes there will be
For me all right, with you I will ever be
Dancing to oblivion into the midnight mess
The world it can forget about us
But our spark will never end
This hand will never get tired of reaching for the flames
Because holding you is all I ever will
Our flames burning high to the sky
Honey dawn
I am tasting on your lips
Forever dancing, forever burning
Sunrise of honey and cinnamon
Is it a golden dawn of your lies?
Or the start of our golden age?”
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📷: aristenfromwarsaw
➹ a/n: I've been sitting on it since September.
But you know how I am: I have the dialogue and narrative perfectly in my head, but if I don't write it down right away and think I'll remember it later...of course I won't remember it later.
And if something gets lost, I get so frustrated that I don't do it at all.
And some of you know certain reasons that have come between writing 😅😵‍💫😅
As always, I am dying to know exactly what you think about it. 😬🫣😁
Even though this is supposed to be my pure hug&fluff fest fanfic, I still added a touch of head drama and worked on Astarion's trauma. Don't ask what's wrong with so many of us authors. Whenever I just want to write cuddly fics, my head screams while I'm writing "But how are they supposed to be happy and in love if they aren't first full of fear and doubting love and questioning everything? You can't be happy if you weren't unhappy before!" I don't know why that happens 😅 Readers, let me know what you think. Pure lovey dovey or emotional ballast and processing including good?
(One bard was harmed during this playthrough...sorry as always Alfira 😅)
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art-from-within · 7 months ago
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One sote lore question that has been troubling me concerning mohg and miquella
SO. The dlc reveals that miquella was not so kind and tender in the end, and used mohg in every way a man can. He was used by Mohg to go to shadowlands, and for his corpse to become a vessel for Radahn’s soul. I also have good enough reasons to suspect his cult and himself was being used as a blood bank, for what idk, considering there are a tad too many references of miquella needing blood/ post enchantment mohg asking his followers to ‘bathe his consort in blood’.
But one thing i am not really set on is the timeline. Biggest question is, HOW and WHEN did miquella enchant mohg? Did he visit him in the sewers way back? (The final battle with miquella shows us that he needs to be close in other to enchant someone, to steal their heart) or did mohg already have a plan to kidnap him in the haligtree, and miquella just made the best of his situation? Did he go to the haligtree because he was seduced? Or was it already on his agenda, but he bit more than he could chew?
I am leaning more towards the former, the fact that we can get the bewitching branch cookbook only after doing varre’s questline/visiting mohgwyn palace and receiving it from gideon is a huge red flag. Would this imply he sent mohg some bewitching branch drink or smth? Or shot it like an arrow? Used haligtree like an incense burner releasing pink clouds eve- okay…. (Or he stabbed him with the pin when he got close enough…could be argued either way)
Another reason i lean on this idea is that i feel miquella has more discernible motives to have mohg than the other way around. Needs his corpse, his blood, and a ticket to shadowland to become a GOD and fix EVERYTHING. What does mohg get in return….to be his wife??
I would still like to hear all you guy’s thoughts though
+ or maybe he was able to visit mohg in his sleep, through st.trina? We do know that omens suffer terrible nightmares….maybe st.trina helped him in a way
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kirain · 1 year ago
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I love your Tiefling kids all grown up! The attention to detail is astonishing! But please, I need Doni! The sweet little non-verbal boy from the grove!!
I gotchu, anon! All the tiefling children that aren't confirmed to survive to Act 3, but very well could have. This is a continuation of this post. And thank you!
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During the attack in the Shadowlands, Doni survived by squeezing between two cliffs and waiting out the slaughter. When silence fell, he paid his respects to the fallen and fled to the closest light source. He quickly spotted enchanted torches in the distance, and he realised they kept the shadows at bay. There he stayed until the curse lifted. Once free to move, he wandered cautiously to Moonrise Towers, where he was welcomed by other survivors. Though unable to speak, he would be instrumental in uncovering precious resources buried during the building's collapse; crawling under debris and mapping out paths for the adults to follow. As the land healed, Doni found a home, especially when Halsin returned. Though not a replacement for his biological father, he came to see the tender druid as a mentor, and with his guidance learned to hunt and attune himself with nature. Slowly, he also recovered from his trauma and reclaimed his voice. He would spend the rest of his days happily foraging food from the now vast forests, and all while blissfully married to the descendant of a Harper.
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Meli was taken to Moonrise Prison with the other tieflings, but he managed to escape before reaching the cells. With pursuing guards on his heels, he jumped into the moat, nearly drowning as he dodged their arrows. Through sheer fear and desperation, he floundered to the shore, where he promptly fainted. When he woke, the shadows had faded and the land was bathed in light, but he felt anything but joy. For years, he walked a dark path, his anger seething and survival depending on theft and violence. This changed when he tried to rob a cleric of Lathander. The woman met his transgression with pity and forgiveness, and quickly invited him to join her at her temple. He agreed—with the intention of using her for food and shelter and eventually robbing her blind, but the woman was wise. She saw through his facade, shared her beliefs, and gradually helped him turn a new leaf. As he grew, surrounded by the clerics and their kindness, he too decided to worship Lathander, vowing to carry His virtues and redirecting all of his rage at His enemies. Upon completion of his apprenticeship, he would leave the temple and travel Faerûn, ridding it of undead abominations and protecting the innocent from their scourge.
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Gan left the group long before they journeyed to the Shadowlands. Dissatisfied that he never got the chance to fight, and certain that Baldur's Gate wouldn't be the refuge the adults claimed, he chose to stay behind at the Grove. He had always been an independent soul, even at such a young age, and he continued to fend for himself while honing his skills on the practice dummies. The druids attempted to welcome him into their fold, but his proclivity towards violence caused a divide, despite their best efforts. Within a few months, he would leave the Grove and join a band of raiders, but even that stint was short lived when he came to empathise with their victims. One night, after a particularly brutal raid that ended in five murders, he slit the throat of the leader as he slept. It was then, in that moment of lost innocence, that he realised it wasn't violence he longed for, but vengeance. Vengeance for Elturel, vengeance for the refugees, and vengeance for anyone wronged by unfathomable evil. Eventually, he would cross paths with Zevlor, who would recognise the boy's struggle and train him in the ways of the paladin. This gave the wandering oathbreaker renewed purpose, and he would raise Gan to be one of the most feared but celebrated paladins in the Sword Coast.
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Unfortunately, Zaki never made it to Baldur's Gate. He never even made it to the Shadowlands. Mere hours after leaving the Grove, he was separated from the group during a brief respite. As the others caught their breath, he left the trail to pee and pick some berries. Unbeknownst to him, he stepped a little too close to a den of wolf cubs, provoking the mother. She attacked, wounding his face and chest and knocking him into a nearby ravine. Once they realised he was missing, the group searched vigorously to find him, but to no avail—and they had to move on. Days later, he was found in a bad state by Rath, who rushed him back to the Grove. The experience had left him deeply traumatised, to the point that even his friend Gan was unable to console him. Feeling responsible for the boy, and the plight of all the tieflings, Rath decided to personally take him under his wing. Slowly, he introduced Zaki to the Grove's wolves, helping alleviate his fears, and soon he came to admire them, along with all the other animals in the area. Through Rath's teachings, he developed an appreciation for peace and the unpredictability of nature, earning him a blessing from Silvanus. From that moment on, Zaki would stay in the Grove indefinitely, one day inheriting the title of Archdruid.
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goawaypopup · 7 months ago
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And that's another Deltora thing that puzzled me! The Pirrans' memory stones.
If you recall, at the end of Shadowlands, Lief and company each receive rainbow-colored stones that, they are instructed, will allow them not to develop amnesia about all their time underground once they leave.
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This does become relevant in the next series, when Doran's soul-stone is a plot point, but at the time it comes out of left field. You just all have these things at all times? Would you wake up and completely forget who you were if you lost it? Why do the caverns make you forget, anyway?
I think this has to be something the Pirran tribes are themselves responsible for. At the time they first arrived in the underground, they had good reason to wipe themselves from the mind of their aggressor to prevent pursuit (he does hold a very long grudge), and the Girl with the Golden Hair tale might show that it was once possible for Deltorans to just wander into the caverns through the other end. They all continue to magically light the cavern walls, so area-wide effects are something within their capability.
They also individually can counteract it somewhat, as with this part explaining away why this wasn't an issue sooner:
"But in the Shadowlands we remembered," Barda objected. "You had Emlis with you," said Penn. "And the minds of all of us were focused on you, besides."
But, if this is the case- why do they all need enchanted ID rocks to protect themselves from their own forgetting spell?
When Lief touched Doran's stone, he glimpsed some of his memories, as well as his list of passwords secret dragon names. Not just his memories from underground, but an instantaneous impression of his whole life. Maybe these things are more generally useful than just passkeys for the amnesia spell; it would appear they function by storing a backup of your memories inside the stone (this possibly being how the spell is bypassed).
The refrain of the last dragons' names is more salient than anything else in there... Perhaps it's because Doran spent his time as the Sister's guardian calling out for his friends over and over unheard. Or some echo wanted to give Lief this highly useful information?
Being able to share your memories with others does seem like a fun cultural staple, particularly for the truth-loving Aurons.
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blackjackkent · 3 months ago
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All right. Having talked Florrick down from killing us in the street, Rakha is free to resume what she ACTUALLY was trying to do, which is come to stare wonderingly at the mages doing demonstrations outside of Sorcerous Sundries.
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(A/N: Hilariously, while I was getting this screenshot, one of them shot Rakha with a firebolt. Part of the 'show' involves the mages summoning (I sincerely hope illusory) cats and then shooting them with fire, and Rakha's position here is in direct line with one of the cat summon locations. XD She'd lost 7hp by the time I finished writing this opening section and moved her.)
It's a beautiful display, at least from Rakha's perspective. The Weave is going absolutely wild in the whole vicinity of this enormous building, gorgeous prismatic rainbows shifting and changing, and stirred repeatedly by the small spells being cast by these mages. It is, perhaps, the strongest concentration of magical energy she's been able to witness in one place, besides the elder brain itself, and she is utterly captivated by it.
Minthara, presumably, loses patience with this pretty quickly, but Jaheira finds it amusing; perhaps she has recollections of some of her magically-inclined adoptees (or even some of the young mage Harpers) being similarly entranced by Sundries and its environs. And Wyll, of course, would be happy to stand there all day just to watch the small curve of a smile tugging at the corners of Rakha's mouth.
Nothing good can last, though, and this particular thing is interrupted by a familiar, and unwelcome, voice breaking through the hubbub, the sound of a man shouting by the entrance to the shop.
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Rakha knows that voice, and the muted smile vanishes from her face as she turns to face its source.
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"Let me back in, or bring Lorroakan out here, you tin tube!" the man bellows at the enchanted armor guarding the shop's door. "You tell Lorroakan I went for his godsdamned Nightsong, and now he has to pay up!"
It's Aradin, one of the mercenaries from the Grove, the ones who almost got Halsin killed. The ones, Rakha now remembers, who were searching for the Nightsong - only they thought it was a relic, rather than the aasimar, Aylin, that it turned out to be.
(A/N: Lowkey I really should have had Rakha talk more to Aylin before now, and tbh she kind of slipped my mind amidst the 3541234132 other things Rakha has had going on. So I'm kind of glad to be hitting this quest, since hopefully it will give room for Rakha and Aylin to talk a bit more.)
Aylin and Isobel have remained with their camp ever since the shadowlands, but Rakha has taken deliberate pains to steer clear of them. She rarely enters the side of the camp where they sleep and has not talked to them since they entered the city. It's far too dangerous, under the circumstances - the beast still resents that they live and growls viciously in Rakha's head every time their faces come to mind.
Nevertheless, they are part of the camp, part of Rakha's shaky little tribe, and Aradin, who is clearly still hunting for Aylin without knowing what he seeks, is therefore a threat - besides already being an asshole. Rakha clenches her fists at her side. She knocked him out the first time she met him, and she would be lying if she said she wasn't eager for a reason to do so again.
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Aradin, it seems, feels similarly. "What're you looking at?" he snaps, rounding on her as she draws near - and then his eyes widen with recognition, followed by an immediate narrowing with dislike.
"Shit," he mutters coolly. "It's you." His jaw sets and he leans closer, directly into Rakha's personal space. "You went looking for the Nightsong after me," he says. "Please tell me you found it."
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Rakha ignores the question for the moment, peering past Aradin at the enchanted armor behind him. Another flicker of annoyance bubbles up in her - this time at the fact that she has to interact with this man again rather than investigate that magic. "Who are you trying to get at inside?"
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"Lorroakan," Aradin explains impatiently. "The wizard who set out the contract. He owns the place. And his little pageboy inside knows how to get to him." His lip curls angrily. "Lorroakan said it'd be easy money, a smash and grab. Get in, get the Nightsong, go. Turns out his little relic was in a temple of Shar, beneath an army of goblins."
For just a moment, his expression shifts, showing a muted sheen of regret. "Turns out his little relic was in a temple of Shar, beneath an army of goblins. Would never have taken my people in if I'd known." Then the moment of vulnerability passes, and he scowls. "I can't bring 'em back. But I can make Lorroakan cough up - especially if you found the relic!"
Rakha's face has remained utterly immobile during this little speech. There is enough of Wyll and Jaheira's influence in her now that under some circumstances, she might be tempted to a bit of sympathy for the man, hearing that brief shift in his voice. He has clearly been through the wringer in pursuit of this quest, and it seems Lorroakan, the owner of the shop, is the real force behind the threat to Aylin.
But Aradin also called her a half-breed on more or less her first day awake; he does not have a lot of credit from her for sympathy. So she is not inclined to help him one bit.
"That's none of your business," she says curtly.
His scowl deepens, creasing lines across his forehead. "Answer the question," he says, icy. "Did you find it or not?"
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"I found the Nightsong," Rakha shoots back at him irritably. "It wasn't a relic. It was an aasimar." Little point in lying, as usual.
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"An aasimar?" Aradin's eyebrows shoot up. "Hells." But he seems neither dissuaded nor intimidated, just more irritated. "If I'd known, I'd have asked for more gold. Kidnapping costs more than theft." His weight shifts rapidly from one leg to the other and back and his eyes lock on hers, glittering eagerly. "Don't forget - I'm the one who gave you that contract. I want my cut."
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Rage begins to bubble, immediate and intense, in Rakha's gut. Kidnapping costs more than theft. Her best friend is currently the victim of a kidnapping - one Aradin clearly would have participated in himself if the money was right. She will not sit here and debate the price of turning Aylin over to him. She will, in fact, wring his neck if he stays within grabbing range much longer.
[INTIMIDATION] "Piss. Off," she growls, very low and deep in her throat, taking a step forward so they are nose to nose and her greater height towers over him.
(A/N: 27 on a 15 - Rakha's intimidation bonus gives me great joy. Also deeply amused to learn from the dialogue files that Hector was denied being able to tell Aradin to piss off because he was a monk and got a more pacifist comment instead. :P )
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For a moment, she thinks he's going to strike her, and she welcomes it, hungers for it-- but his fear gets the better of his anger and he recoils a few steps. "I ought to knock some sense into you," he says coldly, "but you know what? I'm too godsdamned tired."
His jaw tightens, and he turns and walks away. "If she's out there, I'm gonna find her. You mark my words."
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2plottwist · 6 months ago
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A Song of Journeys Ahead
Summary: Calathiel and her companions arrive in a charming village, where a traveling troupe performs a vibrant concert in the town square. While the group celebrates alongside the townsfolk with food, drink, and merriment, Calathiel immerses herself in the enchanting music, finding a long-sought comfort in the melodies she has dearly missed. As she loses herself in the harmony, Astarion observes her with growing affection.
Pairing: Astarion x Female!OC (Calathiel)
Characters: Calathiel, Astarion, Gale, Wyll, and a surprise Vox Machina (Critical Role) character
Warnings: none
Author: Kenna:)
Word Count: 1.8k
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Sweat gleans off Calathiel’s forehead. Her muscles ache and scream at every step she takes up the mountain. The flora of the forest provides ample shade, but not enough to block the blazing heat of the Faerûn sun. 
Where is this godsdamn village Wyll was talking about?
Calathiel was close to just dropping her supplies and calling it a day, when a smell wafted across the path. She stopped and willed her heightened senses to find it again.
She could feel a presence shift at her shoulder. She turns to the side to see Gale’s smiling face, “Food,” he states. 
Callie smiles back, reading his mind. The party is tired, starving, weak, and needing a place to rest. One that isn’t in the middle of a clearing. That place has finally appeared. 
A  laugh escapes Callie’s lips, a new wave of strength coursing through her veins at the thought of food. Her feet take off up the hill, leaving the companions behind. The sweat pours from her skin, but never mind that, food and drink await. 
She can hear the pounding of feet behind her, knowing that the companions are well on the way of following her hasty retreat. As Calathiel rounds a large boulder, the sounds of reveling and music move over the sun strained land. She can make out small buildings, fountains, and shadows milling about. Brightly colored flags reflect the sunlight as she turns towards her pack. 
“Wyll,” she shouted, “Is this Ashwick?” 
She sees a large body push between Karlach and Lae’zel, his embellished coat covered in dust and sweat. Wyll’s smile rises to the sight, “Yes,” he sighs in relief. 
The humble village was constructed of sandstone walls and large pale shrubs lining the buildings. Dirt paths were used as roads and walkways. Wooden doors slam shut from every building. Straight ahead of the party, a large fountain of water rises from the middle of the town, shooting streams and droplets of water into a large well below it. 
As the party traveled the beaten main path into the village, Astarion picks up his pace to match Calathiel’s. “So, what in the hells could we possibly be doing in this dusty village?” His eyes roam across the people moving past him, staring at him. “These people are positively abhorrent.” 
Callie brings her eyes to him. His face covered in sweat and dirt, laced with disgust. “Wyll said that this village would be a good place to bed for the night on our way to the Shadowlands.” Her eyes moved to the village inhabitants. 
“Ugh, this is ridiculous,” he sighs, shaking his head. 
She stops and grabs his forearm to bring his steps to a halt. “Listen, all of us are hungry, tired, and weary,” Calathiel starts, dropping her hand to her side, “We need to regain our strength for the journey ahead. Not all of us can feed off the blood of others and keep kicking.” 
A grin spreads across Astarion’s face as the group continues past the two elves. “And even if they could, I don’t share.” 
Calathiel’s eyes roll, “Even so, we need to stop. This is a safe place, according to Wyll. Now suck it up, and move forward.” 
She leaves him standing in a state of surprise and disappointment. He really didn’t want to stick around this nasty shithole of a village, but he was weary and hungry. Maybe he could find some wine around here. Maybe he could convince Calathiel for a hearty meal before dawn. 
The town square was lined with brightly colored flags. Wooden stands selling roasted meats and vegetables, fruits and drinks. A heightened wooden platform sits at the edge of the clearing, holding five people swiping and pounding on different instruments. 
A smile grows across Calathiel’s face. She looks around to the rest of the group to see wandering eyes, drooling mouths, and pricking ears. “Well, I don’t know about you,” Calathiel’s cheeks begin to grow sore from her smile, “but I’m going to find something to eat.” 
The group breaks almost immediately, scattering like mice to food stands, taverns, and shops. The only person left standing in place, Astarion. His face still painted with ridicule and impatience for the desperation of his group. Calathiel shrugs her shoulders at the elf and turns to the nearest stand selling boxes of fruit that made her mouth water on the way in. 
Hours into the group’s escape from the desolate lands of Faerûn, Calathiel sits on a small wooden stool to the side of the large platform the traveling troupe of musicians still inhabit. Their songs move through her body in a way she never thought she could hear again. The swift, loud notes of sea shanties and the low, gloomy notes of sorrowful tunes portraying a lost love or battles lost. The mug of ale Callie had been nursing slowly became warm and flat with the length of time she spent listening so intently to the bards’ stories. 
As the sun sets, a cascade of pinks, blues, and purples dances across the sky, gradually giving way to the stars and their moment to shine. Lanterns light and torches become ablaze, announcing the continuation of the night's revelries and festivities. Calathiel’s heart silently thanks the Gods for a chance to keep listening to the beautiful music. 
“As the night moves through this small town, our group must take a brief break. Our parched throats crave the sweet embrace of ale, and our bellies stir at the tempting scent of the feast," the gnome upon the stage proclaims. 
Callie’s disappointment crawls across her face, but the thought of their return lessens the feeling. She looks down at her ale, deciding she needed a fresh pint anyways. Before she could rise, a voice called for her attention. 
“My lady!” The gnome calls, waving the hands that played the lyre just moments ago. She stops and smiles. “I couldn’t help but notice your very close observation of my troupe.” 
A laugh escapes Calathiel’s lips, “Yes. Your storytelling is one for the history books, good sir.” 
“Oh, I wouldn’t quite say that, but thank you, my lady.” The gnome’s smile grows ten yards wide, pride beaming off his face at the compliment. 
“Of course, and please call me Calathiel.” 
The gnome’s hand takes Callie’s and swiftly brings it to his lips, “A pleasure to meet you, lady Calathiel. I am Scanlan.” 
She nods, “You have the most wonderful way with song, Scanlan.” 
“Thank you, Calathiel.” An idea pops up behind his eyes, “You know, I don’t usually allow just anyone to play my lyre, however, your hands seem to crave the soft touch of the strings. Would you like to give it a try?” 
His hands extend the wooden instrument towards Calathiel. Her eyes widened at his question. She hadn’t played an instrument or sang a tune in the weeks since she’d been a part of this quest. Her mind races with the songs she could sing, the notes and finger movements required to grace the world with music. 
Her head nods against her best interest. She sets her ale in the dirt, taking the delicate lyre. Her head still races with the songs she could play. Her legs lower her body to the wooden stool again as her hands stroke the strings and scales of the lyre. 
Her thoughts land on a song, and her fingers begin to strum. A melancholic tale of heartbreak and longing. Her words fall from her lips, giving way to a beautiful melody that brought the gnome, Scanlan, to his knees. 
When her song ends and her eyes open, Scanlan and his troupe all gaze at the young druid. Her words fill their bodies and leave them wanting more of her song. 
“That was beautiful.” Scanlan states. 
Calathiel pulls the lyre from her body, handing it back to the bard, “Thank you. You are more than welcome to play it during your next shows.” 
“You would be so gracious?” 
“Of course!” She smiles. “It’s a story that must be told, and with the amount of talent you and your troupe have, I believe you would be the best voice for it.” 
“Thank you, lady Calathiel.” 
She nods as she watches the starstruck band wander away, discussing notes and further compositions of her song. A dark presence rises at her back. Moving her eyes over her shoulder, she sees the tall, pale body that belongs to one gorgeous vampire. 
“Seems like you have more than one talent when it comes to those fingers.” 
Astarion leans down to drink her eyes into his. His ears still humming with the soft notes of her song. His body wanting and wishing for a continuation of the performance. He thought stopping in this godsforsaken town was a mistake, a distraction from the real threat and journey they’re supposed to be facing. However, his thoughts continued to wander to Calathiel’s kindness to the townspeople, her excitement to revel in the festivities, and the beautiful words that graced his ears. His admiration of Calathiel continues to grow by the day. 
Calathiel’s eyes roll at Astarion’s statement. She’s never spoken about it, but music was her escape, the way she could easily fall into a trance, the way she could pass the time during their journey. It was a beautiful string of notes and expressions that could tell a story ten times better than simple words or phrases could. It was the Gods’ blessing to the physical realm.  
Astarion takes a seat next to Calathiel, “No, I mean it. You’re wonderful.” 
There was no hint of teasing or sarcasm dripping from his mouth. Astarion’s words seem… genuine. Calathiel is not used to these kinds of compliments from the snarky vampire. 
“Um, thank you, Astarion.” 
His smile radiates across the night, “Where did you learn to sing such somber songs, anyways?” 
There it is. Calathiel’s soft smile grows and she shakes her head at his question, “I-uh- can’t remember. I just learned them from watching the musicians pass through my colony.” 
His head nods, “Do you know only somber songs?” 
“I don’t. I know sea shanties from sailors, tales of battles won from warriors and adventure parties, and songs of love and lust from traveling bards,” Calathiel lists, remembering the words, melodies, and harmonies in her arsenal of music. 
“Now, I for sure look forward to the songs of love and lust.” Astarion’s seductive voice floats across the air. 
A small laugh erupts between the two adventurers. “I will sing of those when the time comes, Astarion.” 
Their eyes connect, small sparks dancing between the two. Astarion’s mind races with the thoughts of when that time would come. When would he hear her beautiful voice sing again? Would he live long enough to hear them? Would she stick around long enough to grace his ears? 
Those questions would be answered, but not tonight. For tonight, Astarion thanks the Gods for his freedom, the chance to listen to her, to see her. He thanks the Gods for the chance to let his heart sink deeper in love with the woman sitting in front of him.
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tavyliasin · 1 year ago
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ATG 5 - Day? Night.
In which a little invention it tested on a willing subject...
Pairing: Astarion/Tav SPICE Rating: 4/5 (sex, toys, mild kink) Content Warnings: Slight power play, blood, biting, 
Spoilers Set in the middle of Act 2 again, but not a lot of plot, just the setting of Last Light Inn Canon Compliance Canons Got Fired - Look it's fun to diverge. A little. Vaguely remembering the hidden rooms under the Inn for some setting, and trying to keep close to how I see the relationship developing more between the dynamics of these 2 and how their life views may come in to conflict. Other Notes Darlings we are here for the fun headcanon and toying with ideas of how different aspects of the world and lore could be utilised. Got ideas for additions? Drop them in the comments. Song/Mood Poison Apple by Echo Black "Another midnight, I saw your face, The hunger hit me and I had to have a taste. No need to fight it, temptation reigns, Your touch is wicked and it's burning through my veins. Never refuse forbidden fruit My strength is waning and my demons running loose I should've felt it, before the fall, I saw the apple took a bite and lost it all." ----- FULL CHAPTER BELOW THE CUT -----
It seemed like their time in the cursed Shadowlands might never end. Searching through ruined towns for clues to the past, fighting their way through the souls that had fallen before them, seeking light to chase the shadows. At least they now had the blessing to protect them, and somewhere to sleep safely in the Last Light Inn surrounded by Harpers and the Tiefling refugees from the Druid grove had also arrived safely. Tav had been relieved to see Dammon was with them, alive, well, and willing to trade once more. His help for Karlach was invaluable, too. She glanced over at the barbarian, sleeping like a small child now cuddling up to a large stuffed toy that Gale had enchanted to be safe from her heat. She looked peaceful, for a change. Unfortunately, Tav was far from peaceful herself. She felt completely restless. The Sword Coast was apparently full of painfully attractive people, and sharing a communal room did not allow for privacy to scratch certain itches. It did not help at all that Astarion flirted as easily as breathing, and she had yet to build up an immunity to his undeniable charms. Truth be told, a few of the others had flirted too, but she wasn’t too certain that everyone felt the same way that she did about lust and love. There was only so far she was willing to go with flirting back, some lines once crossed would end with someone getting hurt, and she was not going to let that happen. Luckily for her, the night was about to get a little more interesting, as she wasn’t the only one still awake. “Not even trying to meditate through the night? Darling, it is bad for your health to go without resting. Look at those bruises, they’re not going to get any better if you just toss and turn all night are they?” Astarion kept his voice low, but the wink was a very clear hint. He held out a hand, an invitation to leave the confines of the room.
“You’re up to something.” Tav stated plainly, but still took his hand and stood up, following him out of the room. “Are you disappointed? We can get by on less rest than the others by meditating, but that doesn’t mean I can just leave you there unable to do even that.” His words held concern, but his voice still carried that flirtatious edge to it. “Well, what are you suggesting?” Tav raised an eyebrow, scouring his face for any hint of what he might be up to.
“You’ll see~” He winked again, and kept leading her down the stairs. --- A few minutes later, they were in a secret room beneath the Inn. A hidden door had brought them to a place that looked like a storage area. It was dusty, smelled a little like mildew and…did cobwebs have an odour? They might as well, but it didn’t matter much. It was a small place, alone once the lever had swung the door closed behind them. “You better not have trapped us in here, I haven’t brought any lockpicks down here.” Tav laughed a little, but not without a hint of real concern. It would be terribly embarrassing to end their days locked below the Inn where nobody could find them. “Darling you worry too much, I checked it all myself earlier while you were busy with dinner.” He made a few motions and spoke a few words, prestidigitation replacing the scents clinging in the air with…
“Roses? You made it smell like roses? Is this dusty old storeroom meant to be romantic?” “If it doesn’t suit we can always leave, you know.” He almost sounded offended.
“I didn’t say that. Wait, why do you have a bag with you? And where else did you go during dinner?” She had wondered where he slipped off to, as he didn’t really partake of much food or drink with the party. After all, when he was hungry, she could happily offer herself to slake his thirst. The arrangement was not entirely just for his benefit, either.
“Wouldn’t you like to know~” He smirked playfully, putting his bag down to one side and dusting off some old sacks and cloths from a shelf. “Of course I want to know, that’s why I asked.” She regretted her impatience, but couldn’t resist the temptation to answer with as sharp a wit as she received. “Well, love, I know it’s no luxury bed with silk sheets - which is what I would far prefer to compliment a form as beautiful as yours - but the sight of you will certainly brighten up the place.” His eyes travelled the length of her curves, a slight hunger betrayed by his tongue absent-mindedly moistening his lips, the hint of fangs glinting dangerously. Irresistible, Tav thought, even in a dank rotten storeroom… She removed her outer clothes, taking her time for his benefit as he sat down to enjoy the show. All a part of the game, really, test his patience as well as her own, knowing full well that their blood ran hot when they were alone. “Hungry, are you?”
“You could say that…” His voice trailed off for a moment, eyes lingering on her neck as she tied her hair up again. He took off his shirt and reclined slightly, his back against the wall. “Come, sit right here.” Tav followed his instruction with rising tension, sitting between his parted knees, her back leaning against his now bare chest. “What about your bag? Come on you can’t leave it a mystery all night.” “Well well aren’t we impatient… No, not yet, it’s a surprise. For now,” he began to run his hands up her sides, travelling from her hips to her waist, caressing her chest, and coming to rest in a firm grip on her shoulders securing her against him as his lips came so tantalisingly close to her ear. “May I have a little appetiser, first?” A shiver ran down Tav’s spine and through her whole body, which answered for her. Without even thinking about it she rolled her head back onto his shoulder, exposing her bare neck to him, her breath held in anticipation. She didn’t have to wait long, it had been days since he last fed. Astarion kept one arm around her chest, the other hand rising to her forehead to hold her firmly in place as his fangs penetrated her waiting neck. She gasped, the decadent blend of pain and intimacy coursing through her veins like lightning. Her body felt like a coiled spring, tensed, every muscle screaming danger in a discordant symphony with delight. His tongue caressed softly, lips pressing gentle kisses, even as his fangs stung and drew fresh blood. His moan vibrated against her throat, but her own voice was muffled as his hand moved down to her mouth. The heat of lust rose within her alongside the heated torment of the pleasured pain as he fed, careful, ever careful not to take more than she could handle, but still leaving her breathless with desire for more. Tav almost didn’t notice when he loosened his grip, her mind was almost blank from the experience. She wasn’t sure if she’d ever get used to the intensity when he fed like this, and she also wasn’t sure if she ever wanted to. Before she could even begin to regain her bearings, though, a soft cloth covered her eyes, tied securely at the back of her head. “Are you comfortable, love?” His voice at her ear made her head spin again, she just about managed to nod an affirmation. “Perfect. Stay still, now.” She tried very hard to resist the temptation to try and see what might be coming out of the pack next to them, but she kept that trust. His chest, warm and firm against her back, held a comforting strength. His legs, either side of her hips, pressed against her sides like a lover’s embrace, even without his arms. Just when it began to feel empty in the breathless anticipation, she felt a cool sensation pass over her skin. There was no touch, but like a breeze came from nowhere. Next came heat, moving across different areas still left exposed. Then…a stinging, but not unpleasant. A hint of electric pain lighting up her nerves, sparks carefully measured and controlled, pinpointing the most exquisite sensation. Tav’s breath now came in ragged gasps, each new shock just a little more intense, but soothed with the heat and cool before she could feel pain. If she’d had the ability to form any sound other than a wanton moan, she might’ve asked what all this was, but even this was silenced the moment she felt something pressed between her legs.
---
Behind his lover, Astarion grinned. The symphony he was playing on her body was making such a sweet melody, and he was drinking every second like wine. The little effects of a cantrip were easy to manipulate, and Gale had been very helpful in showing him ways that it could be controlled. He briefly wondered exactly what it might be like to lay with the God of Magic herself, but Gale wasn’t quite the type to kiss and tell. Or at least, not to tell every detail. His smile widened as Tav moaned again, the small object in his hand pressing right where she wanted it most…but there was more to this little metal device. He almost laughed as he remembered how red Dammon’s cheeks had become at the suggestion, but of course the craftsman was incredibly skilled and willing to try making something new. “Oh it’s just for relaxing tired muscles” Astarion had grinned when describing the device, though whether either of them believed that excuse didn’t matter. Now all he had to do was channel just a little electricity through it, and-
---
Tav heard the humming of the tool just as she felt the vibrations. She didn’t know what it was, but she had some idea of what might have been going on whilst she was busy and leaving Astarion unsupervised. Having her eyes covered made every sensation so much more intense, too, and it was becoming almost maddening. But just as she felt close to cascading over the edge, the device moved away. “N...no...you can’t-” She could hear the desperation in her voice but she didn’t care. 
“Not yet, Darling, I want you to feel everything. ” His words arrived in her ear as a low growl, the sound waves shaking her foundations. A distraction, as he shifted behind her. Strong hands took hold of her hips, lifting her smoothly, holding her where she could just feel what was coming next, pressing her hips down as he entered at last. His legs move a little beneath her, allowing a little leverage  to both of them, the kisses along her neck and shoulder giving her the silent permission. Tav’s body became utterly enveloped by sensation. The depth of her lover pressing inside, the feeling of the sparks from his fingertips caressing her body, and his lips tracing loving lines wherever they could reach. She kept her pace slow, too, as much as she longed to rush to the hedonistic release, she was enjoying drawing it out now as much as he did. Fangs cut tiny holes in her back, a quick tongue tasting her flesh and blood with a growing greed, and soon the little device was back with more delicious torment. Her muscles quivered with the intensity building to fever pitch, drowning in a sea of pleasure, the edges of pain only heightening the ecstasy. She might have even felt his pulse racing through her back, had the subtle vibration of his own moans echoing through his chest not silenced that particular drum. As the more intense vibrations began to drive her towards the climax she so desperately desired, Tav matched a more relentless pace with her hips. She was lost to it all, filled, surrounded, caught, controlled, and in that moment so utterly free. Her head rolled back, her neck soon feeling the passion of a myriad of kisses, bites, and the sign they were about to fall so deliciously into the pleasure together. Every nerve lit up, every muscle tensed and release, this time a full volume voice escaping their throats as a single noise echoing from the walls. Time almost slowed down as they felt the incredible rush of euphoria, drawing out the moment as long as they could before it passed, leaving them weakened and breathless in the dark. A small noise on the floor told her that the mystery device had now been abandoned, as Astarion’s arms surrounded Tav, holding her even closer against him while they regained their senses. “You are so beautiful like this,” he whispered, finally lifting the silk from her eyes and kissing her cheek, “see?” “What do you-” Then she saw it, the mirror on the other side of the room, the only clean thing around, with the cloth that had likely covered it when they came in discarded on the floor beside it. Mage Hand, she thought to herself, of course he would- “It felt like a shame if I couldn’t see you, all of you, enjoying this~” He pulled her into another kiss before she had a chance to argue. “Wasn’t it just exhilarating , love?” “I… You know it was… But…” Tav looked at the mirror. “You’re not even there, are you…” “I haven’t seen my reflection in centuries Darling, I don’t miss it,” a little lie, and one that did not get past her notice, “but I saw what I wanted. You. Your body moving with pleasure, your face flush with blood and heat, the way you gasp when you want more …” It was hard to argue, besides which, Tav finally felt tired, like it was time to rest at last. “We should-” “We should stay right here. It doesn’t matter, does it? I’ll wake you up by morning, and we’ll just slip in to the room like we were there all night and just went for a little fresh air .” He brought his legs around her now too, trapping her in a comfortably tight embrace. “You’re not in a rush to escape me, are you?”
Tav yawned, the exhaustion beginning to surrender to the warmth and safety of being in her favourite place. “I don’t suppose you’d care to argue, and those beds were never that comfortable anyway.” “Good girl,” he whispered, kissing the top of her head softly and bringing a blanket around them, “now get some rest. Plenty of running around and killing things to do tomorrow, after all.” She relaxed further, shuffling down a little so her head could come to rest against his chest, listening to the slow heartbeat as her own personal lullaby. It didn’t take long for her eyes to fall closed in the peace they shared before the next storm could draw in.
---
Astarion held her close, savouring the warm weight of her body coming to rest against him. He still didn’t understand how she could give herself so completely to him, how she could relax so easily in the arms of a killer…but he wanted nothing more. His hand idly caressed her soft hair and skin, pulling the blanket a little closer where it had slipped off her shoulder, the bruises still refusing to fade from the reality of their daylight hours. The night , he told himself, belongs to me…to us , he found himself correcting himself, much to his own surprise. What am I supposed to do about this… A dozen thoughts and feelings fought for dominance in his mind as he finally drifted into an uneasy rest himself, holding his heart in his arms.
----------- ----------- ENDING NOTES ----------- ----------- Honestly, that art with the mirror? You know the one, loves, ohh that was delicious~ I don't have much more to say with this chapter though, it's all just some nice spice to solidify how close they have become, the trust that has built, and the odd kind of "new normal" before that is broken back down again.
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waywardpensman · 4 months ago
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My magic system for my novel
Its a bit of a read so enjoy lmao
and I do apologise for being quiet for ages lol
Magic System for Aetheria: The Dual Weave
In the world of Aetheria, magic flows from two primary forces: The Celestial Light and The Abyssal Shadow. These two powers, which were once united in a single, harmonious source of magic, were violently split during the event known as the Sundering. Since then, mages of Aetheria and the Shadowlands have been taught to wield only one side of this divided magic, but some, like Kael Rynn, seek to understand both.
The core of this magic system revolves around The Dual Weave: the intricate relationship between light and shadow magic, where mastery lies in the understanding that neither is inherently good nor evil, but both are necessary to maintain the balance of the world.
Foundations of Magic:
Essence: Magic in Aetheria is drawn from the Essence of the World, a primal force that pervades all living things and the environment itself. This essence is divided into two types:
Celestial Essence (Light) – Associated with purity, order, protection, and life.
Abyssal Essence (Shadow) – Associated with transformation, chaos, secrecy, and decay.
Conduits: All magic users, called Weavers, channel magic through conduits—physical or mental focal points that allow them to access and manipulate the Essence. These can be innate, such as the user's body, or external, like staves, crystals, or enchanted objects.
Weaves: Magic is cast by forming Weaves, which are complex patterns of light or shadow essence. Each type of magic requires different weaves, from simple spells like basic shielding or energy projection to complex rituals that bend reality.
Schools of Magic:
Celestial Weaving Celestial Magic, the power of the Light, is commonly practiced in Aetheria. It draws upon the structured, radiant force of the Celestial Essence, which grants users powers of protection, healing, and enlightenment. The Celestial Weavers believe that their magic is tied to righteousness and clarity of purpose.
Illumination: Creating radiant light, banishing shadows, and revealing hidden truths.
Wardcraft: Defensive spells that form shields, barriers, and protections. These can be either personal or for protecting large areas.
Restoration: Healing the wounded, purifying disease, and restoring the vitality of living beings.
Radiant Command: Control over natural elements through the manipulation of light, such as summoning fire, blinding enemies, or influencing weather.
Abyssal Weaving Abyssal Magic, practiced in the Shadowlands, draws from the Abyssal Essence. It is less understood by the people of Aetheria and is often feared, as it deals with powers of change, concealment, and entropy. Abyssal Weavers can manipulate darkness, hide their presence, or accelerate natural decay.
Veilcasting: The power to manipulate shadows and conceal oneself or others. Advanced weavers can create illusions or become completely invisible in darkness.
Entropy: The acceleration of natural decay or degradation. This can be used to break down physical structures or sap the life force from enemies.
Transmutation: Abyssal Weavers can change the shape and nature of objects or beings, transforming matter into different states.
Soulbinding: The manipulation of life energy, which can be used to influence minds, raise the dead, or channel the power of fallen spirits.
Dual Weaving:
The rarest and most powerful form of magic is Dual Weaving, which combines both Celestial and Abyssal forces into a single weave. Few can perform this, as it requires deep understanding and perfect balance between the two forces. Dual Weavers have access to abilities that transcend both light and shadow, but practicing this magic is forbidden in Aetheria due to its association with heresy.
Equilibrium Weaving: The balance of light and shadow magic allows a Dual Weaver to influence both order and chaos. This type of magic can restore balance to imbalanced areas, neutralize other spells, or bind creatures of light and shadow alike.
Temporal Magic: Dual Weaving can also manipulate time in small ways—slowing it, speeding it up, or creating brief moments of stasis by weaving both forces together.
Reality Shifting: Advanced Dual Weavers can alter the fundamental nature of space, bending reality or creating small pocket dimensions where both light and shadow coexist harmoniously.
Anima Fusion: Dual Weavers can merge life forces from both light and shadow, creating hybrid creatures or fusing themselves with elemental beings for a temporary boost in power.
Laws of Magic:
The Law of Harmony: Light and shadow must always remain in balance. If a Weaver draws too heavily on one force without respecting the other, they risk losing control of the magic. Overuse of Celestial Essence can lead to blindness (both literal and metaphorical), an inability to see the subtleties of reality, while overuse of Abyssal Essence can cause madness, as the mind is consumed by the chaos of shadow.
The Sundering Limit: The Sundering created an artificial divide in magic, which has made accessing both forces difficult. Most weavers can only wield one type of Essence. However, with special training or forbidden rituals, a rare few can overcome this limit and access both.
Essence Decay: Overuse of magic leads to Essence Decay, a slow degradation of the Weaver’s ability to harness magic. Those who rely too much on their powers, especially if they disrupt the balance of light and shadow, can lose their connection to magic entirely. Celestial magic overuse leads to physical frailty, while Abyssal overuse drains the soul and shortens the lifespan.
Foci: Certain places or objects are naturally attuned to one type of Essence. For instance, in areas rich with Celestial Essence, light magic is easier to cast, while Abyssal magic is weaker. Conversely, the deep forests of the Shadowlands are saturated with Abyssal Essence, amplifying shadow magic and weakening light-based weaves.
Magical Artifacts and Relics:
The Orb of Sundering: A legendary relic said to hold the combined power of both light and shadow, created during the event of the Sundering. It is rumored that whoever masters the orb can restore the world to its pre-Sundering state, merging light and shadow back into one harmonious force.
Celestial Crystals: Glowing, radiant crystals used by Aetherian mages to amplify their connection to the Celestial Essence. They are often embedded in staves or worn as amulets to boost power.
Obsidian Sigils: Dark, jagged stones infused with Abyssal Essence, carried by Weavers of the Shadowlands. These sigils allow their wielders to enhance shadow spells, control creatures of darkness, or summon shades from the Abyss.
Final Thoughts:
In this world of divided magic, conflict arises not just between the forces of light and shadow, but within individuals who seek to find harmony between the two. Those who practice Dual Weaving, like Kael Rynn, must navigate the dangerous path between these opposing forces, risking not only their lives but the very nature of magic itself. As Kael uncovers the truth about the Sundering, he begins to understand that restoring balance between light and shadow might be the only way to prevent the world from falling into chaos again.
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befuddled-calico-whump · 2 years ago
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Wizard of Oz (the whump AU) Plot Summary
While I love so much about this project, I don't see myself having the time/motivation to do anything for it story-wise. I may still post short comics or doodles, but the main story will probably never get its prose, at least not in the foreseeable future
Therefore, for those who were interested in it, under the cut is a (pretty detailed) synopsis of how the story would've gone :)
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Character Details:
(note: art of the characters is linked, but some lead to full comic pages/whumpier art. Also, characters will be referred to as their better-known names throughout the synopsis to lessen confusion)
Dorothy Gale - Stranded in Oz at 12, Dorothy has since made a name for herself as a witch hunter and general assassin.
Tokoret "Toto" Nightshade - Dorothy's partner. A tiefling-like humanoid from the land of Shahaedr, and an ex-mercenary. Dorothy rescued from his former employers.
The Tin-Man/Farran Black - A fallen soldier who was "rescued" and resurrected by the Wizard. His heart and a few limbs were replaced by enchanted inventions, and the Wizard keeps his original heart in his lab, preserved by magic.
The Scarecrow/Wil Ironcrest - A thief imprisoned by the Wizard after being caught one too many times. His voice was magically sealed away due to his tendency to insult his captor, and his mouth was stitched closed for good measure.
The Lion/Reyne Arada - Taken in by the Wizard after his village was destroyed. Subject to several magical experiments meant to turn him into a ferocious protector.
The Wizard/??? - A powerful and mysterious magician. Guardian and unofficial ruler of the Emerald City.
Kanna Lanterne/The Woods Witch - A master of nature magic. Actively opposes the Wizard, and lives in an isolated part of the woods.
Glinda Utara/The North Witch - One of the Wizard's closest allies, and occasional tormenter of the Tin Man.
~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~
Setting Details:
Oz is the country as a whole. It borders Shahaedr, known by less-tolerant Oz citizens as 'the shadowlands'. Oz and Shahaedr are almost constantly at war with each other, and are currently in one of their periods of fragile peace. The war Tinman died in was between Oz and Shahaedr. The Emerald City is one of the closest settlements to the border of the two lands.
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Summary:
Dorothy and Toto are traveling via horse-drawn cart to the Wizard's castle to meet about a hunting job, when they encounter Scarecrow, who is in the middle of attempting an escape. The pair try to help him, and make an effort to figure out what he's running from, but are horrified to discover that his mouth has been sewn shut, and he cannot speak. Before they're able to do anything, a pair of guards appears to drag him away, claiming he's a dangerous criminal in the care of the Wizard, and apologizing for the disturbance.
They carry on, soon reaching the Wizard's castle, and are told the Wizard will see them at dinner that night.
When the time comes, they briefly meet the Tinman, who serves the meal. Dorothy asks after Scarecrow, mentioning she met him on the road, but the Wizard says he's been taken care of and moves on to discussing the job.
He asks her to kill the wicked witch of the wood, and offers a large sum. Dorothy tells him she cares less about the money than the justice, and asks what the witch has done. The Wizard spins a tale of her evil deeds, and Dorothy agrees to begin the hunt the next day.
Meanwhile, Tinman is excused, and goes to check on Scarecrow, who's been beaten and confined to a cell. He does what he can to treat his fellow captive.
Later, Dorothy is settling in, and tells Toto that she doesn't trust the Wizard, especially with the way he treats his supposed servants. After dark, she sneaks out of their room to have a look around, and is drawn to a strange green light that seems to be coming from a staircase. When she tries to get closer, she runs into Lion, who attempts to scare her away, but fails, and becomes upset because of it. Dorothy comforts him, and they have a quick conversation. He promises not to tell the Wizard she was snooping.
The next day, the Wizard confronts her for snooping.
Lion is with him, looking somewhat ashamed as the Wizard boasts about his familiar's loyalty. Dorothy doesn't mention her distrust, but admits she was curious about a green glow she saw earlier. The Wizard claims it's his "own special brand of magic", and deflects any further questions. At this point, Scarecrow, who's been cleaning the hall throughout this conversation, collapses. When Dorothy runs to help him, the Wizard tells her to not bother.
She tries anyway, despite being met with wariness from the three captives, and helps Tinman get him to a bed. They talk briefly, and she expresses disapproval of the Wizard's disciplinary methods. The Wizard comes upstairs and hurries her along before she can ask any questions, but the Tinman is now more trusting of her. Afterwards, she begrudgingly goes into the Emerald City to get information on the witch.
While there, she notices an alarming amount of citizens are wearing green spectacles. They claim it's a wearable protection spell gifted to them by the Wizard. When asked about the witch, the lenses seem to glow as the people speak of evil and treachery. Later, Dorothy finds a broken pair and cautiously moves to try them on, but is stopped by Jade, a street vendor. Jade warns her they poison the wearer into madness, and it's all the Wizard's doing. Dorothy asks about the witch and the captives, and is given honest, if uninformed, answers. The Wizard took the three in under the guise of helping them and providing 'gainful employment', but anyone can see none of them are treated well, and the witch's only crime is refusing to ally with the Wizard.
Meanwhile, it's revealed that the Wizard was watching them through the broken glasses.
When Dorothy returns, she claims she's learned enough and will leave to hunt the witch the next morning. The Wizard offers to pay her in advance, but she declines, and is dodgy about further questions, having made up her mind about where her loyalties lie.
That night, she and Toto make plans to break in a week later, when the Wizard is supposed to be away, and free his captives, as well as investigate the odd green magic. They find Lion spying on them, and calm him down, talking him into not telling the Wizard.
Lion goes to tell the other two, but the Wizard is nearby and overhears some; afterwards cornering Lion and coercing him into revealing the duo's plans, threatening to hurt the others if he doesn't.
When Dorothy and Toto set out the next day, they're ambushed by the Wizard's guards. Dorothy escapes, but is wounded, and passes out in the middle of the woods after running a good distance. Upon waking, she finds herself in the witch's garden. The witch knows Dorothy by reputation, and introduces herself as Kanna. Despite being on edge and distrustful at first, they come to an understanding and agree to help each other: Kanna will help to free Toto and the captives, and Dorothy will aid her in taking down the Wizard.
Meanwhile, the Wizard hosts Glinda, who is delighted to take part in interrogating a captive Toto, and agrees to help the Wizard with his plans to invade Shahaedr, Toto's homeland, despite the delicate treaty Oz currently holds with them.
Back in the woods, Kanna tells Dorothy she'll put the Wizard's guards under a sleeping spell, but must stay in her garden to focus. She promises to catch up with Dorothy and lead them all back to the safe haven once the three captives are freed.
With the advantage of being presumed dead by the Wizard, Dorothy easily breaks in and finds the Tinman and Lion locked in separate cells. Scarecrow has been tied up outside, left to starve as a punishment. There is no sign of Toto, and Dorothy is forced to flee when the Wizard seems to be returning, taking her horse, which had been stabled at the Wizard's after the ambush.
They cut the stitches that seal Scarecrow's mouth, but he still can't speak due to the Wizard's magic. (He has totems that grant him more control over them: a straw doll for Scarecrow and an iron one for Tinman).
Meanwhile, the Wizard is outraged to find his prizes gone. His eyes fall on the totems, and he reaches for the metal doll.
On the road, Tinman suddenly starts writhing in pain as the Wizard holds his totem's metal leg over a fire, then saws away at his arm with a file. Dorothy is unsure what to do, resolved to simply holding Tinman and trying to comfort him. Lion is panicking, and Scarecrow is still too weak to be of much help.
Kanna suddenly arrives, and analyzes the scene. She and Dorothy remove his metal limbs, and the Wizard watches as the totem's corresponding limbs crumble away, becoming furious. He seizes Tinman's heart, and holds it over the fire.
When Tinman starts screaming, Kanna realizes the Wizard also replaced his heart, and orders Dorothy to cut it out quickly while she makes a replacement. Dorothy does, apologizing all the way through, and Kanna gives him a heart of living plants in the nick of time.
The Wizard watches Tinman's totem crumble, and angrily turns to Scarecrow's.
As the women help a barely conscious Tinman onto the horse, a frantic noise from Scarecrow stops them. They quickly figure out he's been blinded and deafened by the Wizard. Kanna isn't able to do much, as she can't replace a mind. Tinman manages to calm him down by weakly signing into his hand, and they proceed to the safe haven.
Dorothy talks to Lion, who feels restless and guilty over leaving. He hates and loves the Wizard in equal parts, since the castle is the only home he can fully remember. Afterwards, Dorothy gets a psychic message from the Wizard, taunting her with the image of a beaten Toto.
Meanwhile, Kanna looks after Tinman, creating him new prosthetic limbs out of plants.
Dorothy leaves in the dead of the night to confront the Wizard and rescue Toto, but he defeats her by controlling several of the villagers' minds through the emerald glasses. Dorothy is horrified, realizing he has the capability to turn the people of the Emerald City into an army. She manages to get away, taking Scarecrow's totem with her.
While she's gone, Glinda finds and terrorizes the garden, overpowering Kanna, then beating up Scarecrow and taunting Tinman. Lion momentarily overcomes his fear to save his friends, and claws Glinda across the face, forcing her to retreat.
Dorothy returns, and gets mildly chewed out by a recovering Kanna. Together they use the totem to help restore Scarecrow's senses and voice.
Now that Glinda knows where they are, the group decides to relocate. Kanna and Tinman start to bond, but when things veer into a more intimate territory, he freezes up, prompting her to pull back. The two talk it out, and set some healthy boundaries.
Dorothy is once again taunted with Toto, who's in bad shape, but this time everyone's dragged in as the Wizard offers to exchange him for Lion. Just Lion. The others tell him not to do it, but with all the times his friends have shielded him, Lion refuses to cooperate, deciding to give himself up if that means the Wizard will stop coming after Tinman and Scarecrow.
He sneaks off to meet the Wizard, but the Wizard simply shoves a bound and injured Toto into the woods, claiming this was technically the deal. Lion tries to stand up to him, but is swiftly cowed.
Toto is found by Jade, who recognizes him and takes him in. At this point, she realizes things around the city are getting weird as the Wizard makes his final preparations to storm Shahaedr. The people wearing the emerald glasses seem strangely intent on finding or improvising weapons.
With Lion missing, the remaining four set out to find him, with Jade encountering them in the process. Dorothy and Toto reunite, but it's cut short when the citizens of the city begin marching in rank towards Shahaedr.
They return to the Wizard's castle. Tinman and Scarecrow split off to find and free Lion, while Dorothy and Kanna go to confront the Wizard. They fight their way past the Wizard's guards, and finally make it to his lab. Glinda is standing beside him as he channels energy through a huge orb that's glowing green, and Kanna challenges her to a fight as Dorothy attacks the Wizard.
Despite his being a skilled magic user, Dorothy is a witch hunter, and manages to match the Wizard, blow-for-blow. Just when she manages to get the upper hand, the Wizard draws energy from the green orb, healing himself and regaining his energy. Though it seems like a lost cause, Dorothy fights on.
Kanna manages to defeat Glinda, but even together, the Wizard has them outmatched as long as he has access to the orb. Just when it seems like he's won, his ex-captives make it to the lab, and Lion breaks away from the group, attacking him.
Surprised and hurt that his own Familiar would hurt him, the Wizard is initially too shocked to fight back, and Dorothy and Kanna surge in to help. Meanwhile, Tinman and Scarecrow manage to reach the orb, and shatter it.
The glow immediately stops, and the Wizard is defeated soon after.
Going back into the Emerald City, they find piles of broken green glasses, and confused, but unharmed civilians. With both their friends and the city freed from the Wizard, the group heads back to Kanna's garden, to rebuild and recover.
~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~
@blackberry-bloody , @unicornscotty , @whumpwillow , @grizzlie70 , @burtlederp , @madrono-but-i-am-not-a-fruit , @outofangband , @whumpy-catfish ,
and thank you to @whumpingwithclara-alt for the emerald glasses idea :)
if anyone actually read this whole thing and wants more of a specific scene mentioned, let me know and I can try to draw it
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ty-bayonet-betteridge · 8 months ago
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anyway here's some thoughts on the lifers's Ancestors
The Observer - Grian's ancestor. A spy/informant of shifting and unclear allegiances.
The Swindler - Scar's ancestor. It was said of him that a capricious god cursed him by stealing the use of his legs, but in the same breath blessed him with a silver tongue. Used his gift of charisma as part of a plot to rob The Overlord of his enchanter, a powerful artifact of uncertain origin and purpose.
The Inventor - Mumbo's ancestor. A technological genius. The Liegeman stayed with him briefly after The Overlord's death, and developed flushed feelings for him, but left without exploring them, hoping to avoid detection by The Observer (rumored to be the moirail of the Inventor.)
The Huntress - Pearl's ancestor. Not quite sure what her deal is yet. Probably the one who actually kills The Liegeman.
??? - Gem's ancestor, no idea what to do with her.
??? - Scott's ancestor, probably joins The Revenant in their quest for revenge
??? - Joel's ancestor, no idea what to do with him
??? - Etho's ancestor, no idea
??? - Bdubs's ancestor, no idea
??? - Impulse's ancestor, no idea
??? - Tango's ancestor, no idea.
??? - Skizz's ancestor, he helps the Overlord and Liegeman overthrow Her Eminence but I'm not sure past that
The Betrayer / The Nobleman - BigB's ancestor. A former member of Her Eminence's court, he assisted The Overlord and Liegeman in overthrowing her, and in doing so kills The Countess.
The Countess / The Revenant - Cleo's ancestor. A former member of Her Eminence's court, who after being killed by The Betrayer mysteriously reanimates and begins a campaign of revenge. She claims The Betrayer's head and helps The Swindler slay The Overlord, before setting their sights on The Liegeman. They and The Liegeman also have a torrid affair which cycles rapidly between red and black feelings.
Her Eminence - Lizzie's ancestor. Queen of the Shadowlands, and a powerful conqueror. Killed by The Overlord during a coup.
Overlord Redhound / The Sanguine Overlord - Ren's ancestor. Once a member of Her Eminence's court, he was exiled and later returned with The Liegeman at his side. They began a coup and were successful in taking the throne of the Shadowlands, until The Revenant and The Swindler's campaign of revenge killed The Overlord.
Liegeman Martinez Redwoods - Martyn's ancestor. Martyn finds his journal, which is how the Lifers and the audience find out about the ancestors. Matesprits with The Overlord until his death, which forces The Liegeman on the run from The Revenant's revenge campaign.
??? - Jimmy's ancestor, no idea
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miirshroom · 8 months ago
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Speculation on Miquella before the Elden Ring DLC
Personally, I hope that Miquella is 1000 Leucochloridium paradoxum in a Miquella suit. Worm that walks. Demon's Souls' Leechmonger 2.0.
Put an end to the binary discourse about whether Miquella is a evil manipulator or a sweet cinnamon role. It's just in the nature of the green banded broodsac that it needs to grow in the amber-shelled snail and wiggle into the snail eye stalks and mind control its host to a place where it can be eaten by a bird and perpetuate its life cycle. Apparently this doesn't even need to be fatal for the snail - the worm can be pulled out and the snail grows a new eye stalk. And it's not terrible for the bird either because the worm lives in its cloaca and feeds on waste product. Nature is weird btw.
There are a few ways that I can see this handled with nuance in Elden Ring.
Mohg is the bird that plucked the worm from it's host. He grows bird wings. He was enchanted by Miquella. However: Mohg's dynasty is dead. It's found in the underworld and this indicates that the cycle of parasitism is over - there will be no future generations.
Instead of literal parasites, the parasitic metaphor is a concept of dreams perpetuated generationally. Miquella is very closely associated with dreams. The Golden Order Fundamentalism that Miquella grew up with is a representation of psychological alchemy - the never ending cycle of refinement and seeking a nebulous dream of perfection. Alchemy rebranded itself from pseudoscience to pseudopsychology, but we should kill it.
Picture the Lands Between as the amber shelled snail and the Shadowlands as the bird dream world where the next generation of parasite is meant to incubate and eventually return to the Lands Between. People like to have dreams. Dreams provide hope. Miquella's devotees fervently support his efforts to complete the next dream cycle and metamorphose to whatever form comes next. They are true believers of the cult of Miquella and it is simply in his nature to enchant the mind of the host to support the dream.
If the old dreams of gold are perpetuating cycles of violence and detachment from reality (fixation on stupid conspiracy theories and esoteric solutions to modern problems) then find new and better wonders to dream about. The natural world is amazing. Space is amazing. Age of Stars, please.
So, why specifically would Miquella abandon his fate of perpetuating the dream? I have guesses. Mostly I think it's something about psychological alchemy and transition. If a person were to believe in that sort of thing, then a masculine person with a "female anima" might hypothetically believe that they must transition to a feminine person with a "male animus". Which - in practical terms - is nonsense because people should be free to just be themselves inside and out. But Elden Ring operates on moon logic, so, y'know.
Either way, I hope that Miquella abandoning his golden flesh is some kind of way of saying that he abandoned the psychological alchemy framework. That is, assuming that it was his fate to become the "animus" to Trina, as hinted with in Gowry's manipulations of Millicent in her questline. I really don't want to explain how animus/anima supposedly work - just know that it's a poisonous way to think about gender roles.
My thoughts on the Miquella situation (and honestly also the role of Melina as a "dream girl") are summed up by this Neil Gaiman quote shortly summarizing the story of the Sandman: "The Lord of Dreams learns that one must change or die, and makes his decision."
Also, in game sources for the green banded broodsac: 1) Wormfaces are one of the most enigmatic entities in the base game with no written lore pointing to them. The slugs found near them have worms for eyestalks. 2) Hewg once knew someone with green eyes the same hue as Roderika's. As noted, the "green banded" broodsac is green and lives in eyes. In her dialogue it is mentioned that Roderika had loyal followers once - perhaps analogous to the followers of Miquella...(though Roderika's name more closely alludes to Marika) 3) The horns of the omens from the recent promo image resemble segmented worms in texture and colour. 4) Crucible Wings are to be found in the DLC as per the first gameplay trailer which telegraphs that birds are important thematically.
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damien-ward · 2 years ago
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Damien Cameos in Dragonflight
Damien’s previous cameos: [Cata - BfA] [Shadowlands]
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1) Upon traveling to Camp Antonidas in the Azure Span the player can travel into the inn where they will see an NPC named Lukas Ward. He is reading a book along side an apprentice of the Kirin Tor, and he has a quest! 
Level 60 Quest: A Magical Delivery
If the player talks to Lukas he will say the following:
“Hey, you! Would you mind helping me out with something? Yes? Thanks! <finger guns at you>
I need to send something to my cousin, Damien Ward, but I am a bit busy here. I’ve been assigned to watch over this apprentice and make sure she gets her studies done. Last I heard he had some business to take care of in Dalaran, can you deliver this gun to him for me?
Now I’m sure your wondering hey why not make a portal for you to go to Dalaran? Well... let’s just say do to recent events the Kirin Tor has revoked my right to summon portals. I appreciate the help though!”
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Accepting the quest, players will be given the objective to find Damien in Dalaran, and upon traveling to Dalaran the player will be lead to the shop Glorious Goods where inside they will find Damien browsing the shop. Approaching him the player can interact and complete the quest where Damien will say the following:
“You know, it’s surprisingly hard to find a good gift for your daughter when she finds cool relics while out adventuring with her mother.. I figured Dalaran would have something good to get her. You would think, right? What would a ten year old find interesting?
<Damien sighs as he searches through the shelf.>
🗨️ How are you and Lukas related?
If the player selects the following dialogue option Damien will respond with the following:
“Lukas? Why do you ask, did he send you here? If that’s case you’re probably wondering why I have a Gilnean accent and he doesn’t. Basically, my mother is from Gilneas where I was born and raised, but my father is from Stormwind. Lukas is my cousin from my father’s side, though he grew up in Dalaran and became a member of the Kirin Tor just like my uncle.”
The player will then be given an option to return to the previous chat box to turn in the quest to complete it where Damien will say:
“What’s this?
<Damien looks over the package before opening it> 
Oh! I wasn’t expecting Lukas to get this to me so soon. Thank you for delivering this to me. You don’t know how useful it is to have a gun that is enchanted to automatically reload, it saves a lot of time.
Completing this quest rewards the player with 100 gold and 250 rep with the Kirin Tor.
After completion Damien will leave the store and eventually disappear.
Rogues Only
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1) This cameo is unique to only rogue players once they reach level 60. If the player has joined the Uncrowned and goes down into the Hall of Shadows, then they can find Damien leaning against one of the pillars looking around. He will also push off the pillar and walk around the Hall of Shadows. If the player approaches Damien and talks to him he will say: 
“I never thought joining the Uncrowned would end up being so beneficial. Its helped me keep tabs on certain activity in and around Stormwind the last few years, and all I do is complete a few jobs here and there to help out the Uncrowned.”
Cameos Story Elements:
These cameos reveal a few things in Damien’s story since last we saw him.
- Damien has a cousin, Lukas! Like the Shadowlands cameo we get an extended look into the Ward family as we see his cousin is a member of the Kirin Tor. Though Lukas is not Gilnean like Damien, he comes from his father’s side of the family.
- Damien has a daughter! This little story tidbit is interesting because Damien says she is 10 years old which means she was born around the time of MoP, though this is the first time Damien has mentioned her. This implies he did not know she existed until some time between Shadowlands and Dragonflight.
- Damien has gotten a new look, showing off more of his Gilnean pride by sporting the Gilnean Heritage pauldrons. He also now has a magically enchanted gun, thanks to Lukas, that he does not need to manually reload.
- Another new story element is Damien has joined the Uncrowned some time between the last time the players saw him in Shadowlands to now in Dragonflight. The cameo for rogues also hints that Damien is still a vigilante after all this time like he was back in his Legion cameo.
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landofspaceandrainbows · 2 years ago
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Thanks to @flashfictionfridayofficial for the prompt!
~
Scar's No Good, Very Bad Day
Scar remembered Skizzle's yelling in the background, his scraped knuckles stinging with the remnants of dirt, the tnt lump in his pockets as he searched for the dull black block of enchanting stone. He remembered Skizzle's calls, giving orders, more purposeful in the background as he felt Tango and the B-man place their hands softly on his back. Feeling them feed the life energy he needed into him, calming the blood-hunger as Scar held his sword to Etho's neck.
The way back into the hide out was carefully planned. But today.... well, knowing himself, not slipping yesterday was tempting fate.
But today.... He felt the sizzle of the lava on his skin, and the force of the river, full of rain and snow, in the tight space of the ravine - he felt the air lessening, as he swum against the current. Felt. His. Lungs. Burning.
Weak, he opened his eyes, coughing water from his lungs. fumbling for the pocket mirror, he knew already what he may see. He blinked back tears as his eyes stared back, red again.
Back a few steps from home he opened the door and pocketed the forgotten green "breathing" crystal. He looked out over the balcony railing and went back and swept up another double handful of magic crystals into his overcoat pockets to sell, and some TNT for good measure. Ah well. He looked out over the towers of the Southlands, and the spires of the fortress he had come from in the west. The fairy lights on Cleo's cottage. The purple glow of the Shadowlands. All so far away.
A scruffy little sparrow fluttered down and dug pinpricks into his hand. Scar unrolled the letter on it's leg. "Maybe we'll meet together again, later. - G Man" Scar tied a pink crystal to the softened thong around the bird's ankle, and tossed it into the air.
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late-to-the-fandom · 2 years ago
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All of A, M, and N for your Maw Walker
Thank you, these were so fun! I did these for regular non-AU Maw Walker.
A: Aptitude
1. what are your oc’s natural abilities, things they’ve been doing since young?
Enchanting objects. She always had a natural talent for it even before being trained as an arcanist, and it was a terrible blow to her to find out you weren’t allowed to keep enchantments on objects long and allow them to develop personalities (she had turned all her furniture into her friends)
2. what activities have they participated in?
Well, gosh, she’s been alive 10,000+ years, so a lot? She spent a lot of time engaged in the more courtly Suramarian activities similar to the sort of the things the Venthyr have going on so she fits into that society well.
3. what abilities do they have that they’ve worked for?
Anything deadly. Her natural arcane talents don’t run to the dangerous. Becoming a battle mage is something she had to work toward recently and which she is fairly proud of.
4. what things are they bad at?
All her conjured mana food tastes exactly the same and terrible. She is rarely asked to provide feasts by anyone who knows her.
5. what is their most impressive talent?
Probably her illusions (which I greatly exaggerate beyond regular mage abilities in the story because, I mean, I can)
Maternal
1. would they want a daughter or a son?
She doesn’t want children but if she had to choose she would pick daughter (she wouldn’t have the first idea what to do with a male child)
2. how many children do they want?
None.
3. would they be a good parent?
Yes, ironically. She would make a very good parent but she doesn’t want children because she’s afraid she couldn’t love another child as much as the sister she raised (and more than a little afraid she would love her own child more which would feel like cheating on her sister’s memory)
4. what would they name a son? what would they name a daughter?
She can say honestly she has never thought about that even remotely.
5. would they adopt
She would make a great reluctant adoptive parent. The sort that swears they’re not going to take care of this wayward child that started following them around but of course secretly loving them immediately.
N: Never Have I Ever
1. what would they never do?
Wear traditional Venthyr formal wear. She considers high collars and crinolines a fate worse than death.
2. what have they never done that they want to do?
Beat Renathal in a dredger race
3. is there anything they absolutely can’t believe people do?
Willingly wear high heeled shoes. Their very existence is confusing to her (she’s biased though, she’s very tall)
4. what is the most embarrassing thing they’ve done?
There’s a good bit to choose from here but possibly freaking the fuck out and destroying half the Ember Court killing the spider Renathal stuck in her pocket as a joke is right up there. She does not like that particular incident brought up.
5. have they done anything they thought they’d never do?
Soulbind with someone. She was pretty dead set against it when she first showed up in the Shadowlands.
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