#accultant

[silvertiefling]

SHE'S NOT GOING TO LET IT GO. Which should come with no surprise to anyone, given she was who she was. But she could at least pretend to for now, just to put Iago at ease. Though what she definitely wasn't going to do was leave, at least not right away.

"Fine, fine - I won't hit him... for now. But are ya sure ya don't need anythin'?" she murmured, just loud enough to be heard through the door.

"I also ain't leavin'... not yet. We can just... keep talkin' through the door like this for a bit... I wanna make sure ya don't start cryin' -" she said, but truly it was for her own peace of mind.

She needed to make sure they were okay. Or that they were at least going to be okay. She would stay for as long as she needed to, at least long enough to offer some modicum of comfort for the time being.

Iago buries their face in their hands, pressing their palms against their eyes.

“No- Don't… Don't hurt him.” She doesn't understand. It's so hard to make people understand. 

“I mean it. He literally can't help it. He can't control it - it's not even really Puck! It's… It's complicated. Don't say anything… Just forget it. It’s fine.” 

Iago often does this routine - hiding away while they recover ( whether physically, mentally, or both ) from the thing that Puck is forced to become. But they don’t talk about it. They won't address the elephant in the room. They’d never dream of blaming him. What good would it do other than fuel more of Puck’s self-loathing? It isn’t as if they could fix anything ( they've tried, gods, they’ve tried ). It isn’t up to them. Either of them. They’re puppets.

Things will always be this way until eventually, inevitably, Iago slips up and their dance is over. Destinies will be fulfilled. Until then, all Iago can do is try to make it as painless as possible for their brother. He didn’t ask for this. He doesn’t want this. They don’t care who he’s become in devotion to Bhaal- that’s still their twin brother. The other half of their heart. They’d like to do what they can to spare him any more pain, at the very least.

“Drop this. I mean it, Katya,” they say more firmly. 

The worry in her voice makes their chest ache and their eyes burn, so they press their hands into their face harder until they see dancing lights behind their eyelids.

“No. No, I don’t need anything.” They lean their shoulder against the door before they remember to add, “But- thank you. Thank you. You should go. Forget about this. I’ll come out again, just... give me some time.”

[bloodyarn]

Happy Halloween!

Felt so free to draw your bootiful ocs because I love them very much ;w; ♥

Hark - @druidicbard Puck - @bloodtwin Iago - @accultant Hyra - @bolyde

[starcunin]

closed starter | @accultant

The vampire lounges by the fire, vermillion eyes flickering with the reflection of the dancing flames as they flit across the camp, yet his gaze is fixed on something far more enticing. Puck. Or rather, the hot, rich blood he can almost taste beneath the surface of that skin. He’s watched the others from a distance, keeping his secrets hidden behind a mask of charm and wit, but Puck… Puck is different. There’s a vulnerability there that Astarion recognizes all too well. It’s the kind of vulnerability that could be easily exploited, if only the right strings were pulled.

For over a fortnight, they’ve traveled together, the mind flayer tadpoles wriggling away in their skulls, tying their fates together in the most grotesque of ways. It’s an uneasy alliance, and Astarion knows better than to fully trust any of them—but he’s learned how to use people, to bend them to his will. Puck, with that vacant look of someone who has lost all memory, is the perfect candidate for a bit of careful manipulation. He could become a reliable source of protection, even a steady meal, if played correctly. But there’s a complication—a thorn in Astarion’s side that he hadn’t anticipated.

Iago. The “friend” who seems to hover a bit too closely to Puck, whose eyes are always watching, always calculating. Astarion knows there’s more to that story—he can practically smell the lies on Iago’s breath whenever they speak. And while he hasn’t quite figured out the full extent of the deception, he can feel it in his bones that Iago is hiding something.

He can’t afford to make any mistakes. Not with the others blissfully unaware of his true nature, not with this bloody parasite scrambling his brains. But the hunger… it’s growing stronger by the day. He hasn’t fed properly since this whole nightmare began, and the temptation that Puck presents is becoming harder and harder to ignore. Astarion’s crimson eyes trace the line of Puck’s throat, imagining the warmth of blood spilling over his tongue, the sharp pain of his fangs sinking into flesh… It takes every ounce of self-control not to act on it, not to give in right there and then.

But then he feels it—a pair of eyes on him. He tears his gaze away from Puck and meets Iago’s stare across the fire. They’ve caught him. For a split second, there’s a flash of something in Astarion’s expression—annoyance, perhaps, at being interrupted—but it’s gone as quickly as it came, replaced by a cool, practiced smile. He arches an eyebrow, ❛ Oh, don’t mind me, ❜ he says, his voice smooth and just a touch too casual. ❛ I was simply… admiring the fire. Nothing more. ❜ The lie slips easily from his lips, but there’s a tension in the air now, a thread pulled taut between them, and Astarion wonders just how much longer he can keep up this delicate dance.

[silvertiefling]

[Roll 1d100 = 94] Start Running!: A random creature within 30ft turns hostile towards Iago. Perhaps this is someone Iago has decided to hide from in Katya's tavern. Perhaps (maybe more concerningly) this is Katya herself, who has found herself suddenly very unhappy with a particular white-haired patron...

" Does no one read the bar rules these days? What part of no fightin' - fuck it, whatever. You look like you're easy to B R E A K, just hide behind the bar or somethin' 'til big an' ugly over there gives up," she sighed, cleaning out a glass behind the bar counter. She was hungover and not in the mood to deal with reinforcing the rules today.

[yaksha-garden]

@accultant | Continued from x

The current idea was to sift through the attic of House Daivate's sadly deceased portrait artist -- Eden had great reason to suspect they were from this family, and if they found a painting of themselves in these halls, they could prove it.

Now, that didn't directly prove Eden wasn't the fairy-tale witch everyone seemed convinced they were based off nothing but resemblance, but it would be a start, because it implied a quiet and sheltered life as a healer or oracle, rather than... well.

"You undersell yourself. If you've been hanging around Puck for all your life then you have to be reasonably-" Eden hums as they dust off a woodcarving. "-I'm not going to say sane, but it's a talent for reason. Does that make sense?"

While the woodcarving was a pretty depiction of a blossoming tree, it wasn't relevant to Eden's search, so they set it back down. "But that aside, isn't it interesting? Going through these old art pieces."

[bloodtwin]

𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐠 。。。

             latest grave robbed: shit i've said to my cat 。

@accultant ⸻ ❝ I know you're trying to tell me something, I just don't know what. ❞

             THE  BEAST  HUFFS  ;   this is much more difficult than it should be for someone who used to be something of a ventriloquist for him. 

That was when they were little, though. When they were attached by the hip with a telepathic link between them. When Iago could actually read his facial expressions properly. Puck didn't exactly have a snout back then.

Chain jingling behind him, he pads over to one of the windows & pushes the heavy curtains to the side with his paws. Then he points at Iago before bonking his head against the glass. You. Go outside. It would be good for you. There are birds.

At least, that's how he wants to say it. Instead Puck clears his throat then proceeds to speak in the only way he can. A rough growl: ❝ Igor. Out. ❞

          Ah, 

                 That sounds like he's kicking them out. Not quite what he meant. 

[halfdeadsacrifice]

@accultant | Continued from x

Would it be odd to say there's a sense of innocent wonder to Iago's presence now? Vayu could only wish he looked like that -- he's in his usual attire, with a ponytail that threatened to come undone at any moment, the shadows under his eyes painfully apparent in the firelight, and generally looking kind of like shit. Moreso than usual.

He casts a glance up at the sky with Iago, noting that huh. It was cloudy. He'd been so caught up in his task, too focused on not waking Eden (or anyone) as he rifled through their belongings, too focused on starting this fire and making sure one thing in particular burned, to notice the state of the sky tonight.

He brings his eye back down, peering into Iago's cupped palm. Despite himself, he gives a momentary smile and a delighted huff at the little lizard. "Aw."

Unfortunately, the moment didn't last long. Vayu averts his eyes, away from Iago and -- unwisely -- away from the fire.

"Well, uh..." Shit, shit, act normal. His gaze settles on the treeline, as he continues to idly poke at the fire. "I just... couldn't sleep. That's all."

(It was true that he couldn't sleep, at least. He found himself lying awake with his thoughts racing to terrifying places, before hauling himself to his feet with the knowledge of what he must do to at least delay the inevitable.)

[relentlessgrief]

@accultant continued from here

"You didn't win me over. There was never anything to win over."

Truth in that statement.

He didn't know a lot about Iago, but that mattered not. Maybe it was ignorance. Or maybe it was just the sheer belief and determination that people aren't fully, wholly bad. Not most of them, anyway. There was nuance, shades of grey.

"I think that you're someone just trying to survive. Like the rest of us."

From Connor's experience, at least, most of those who put up walls were those who really wanted to see who would knock them down. Again, maybe just plain ignorance. But Connor was hopeful.

"I am sorry that others speak about you as if they know you when they likely do not."

[illecebrosusmortis]

@accultant

" How do I know you won't stab me in the back? "

"Simple, dear Iago," Raelith said, the tip of her tagger pierced into the tip of her own finger as she twirled the hilt of the blade with her other hand. She was laying on her back, legs crossed at the ankle and propped straight , watching the blade spin and the blood trail and drip down her fingers and drop onto her face, into her hair.

Her dark eyes are focused on the blade and the blood rather than them as she continues to play with her dagger, seemingly forgetting about the other Bhaalspawn's can she even call them that really? the little slaughter lamb? laughable question before her eyes snap to looking at them with a sharp intensity that is somehow empty and captivating at the same time. "...you don't. But you're not mine to slaughter. No, I'm not as lucky as your twin to get my own special fucking sacrifice."

No she's not bitter about that at all.

"As long as he lives you're safe from my blade."

[harpershigh]

❛ not to sound like a Victorian woman suffering from hysteria but going to the sea would fix me. ❜

More unhinged comic relief!

Jaheira eyes the younger woman with a compassionate stare. She leans in slightly, gently placing a placating hand on Iago's shoulder, and whispers: "I pretty much doubt that."

[tryckthebard]

@bloodtwin, @accultant I now have this image of Tryck scritching Puck behind the ear as he's casually leaning over to give Iago a kiss on their cheek while Puck is distracted and I wish I could draw.

[bludmystic]

closed starter | @accultant

The fire crackles nearby, casting long shadows that dance across the lich’s ashen skin. She feels none of the warmth from the flames, but watches the way it flickers in Iago’s eyes——violet, shifting, full of something they’re trying too hard to hide. Her gaze lingers on them for a moment longer before she takes her place beside them, careful to leave enough space that they don’t feel crowded, but close enough to speak without being overheard. There’s an odd serenity to the night, but it does little to ease the gnawing curiosity in her mind.

❛ I wanted to speak with you, Iago . . . if I may? ❜ She’s been watching them, of course. A week now in their company, and yet something about their very presence continues to prod at her subconscious, tugging at the threads of memories she cannot seem to grasp. They hadn’t said they knew her, not once, but she knows. The fear that flickered in their eyes when they first locked onto her wasn’t imagined. It’s a puzzle, one she cannot ignore.

She keeps her composure as she speaks, even though the hunger clawing at the depths of her stomach is a constant reminder of her body’s state. That cold, creeping sensation beneath her skin, the way her flesh doesn’t warm or pulse, the absence of breath unless she forces it——there’s no denying the truth of it, not anymore. ❛ I’m sure you’ve noticed by now that I seem to be . . . well, quite literally dead. Right? ❜ Her tone remains calm, clinical, as though discussing something mundane, but her gaze sharpens, watching for the subtlest shift in Iago’s expression.

Elyndra pauses, glancing down at herself as if to emphasize her words. The lifeless pallor of her hands rests on her lap, unmoving. ❛ It’s the only thing that makes logical sense, ❜ she continues, her voice softening into a whisper, one meant only for Iago’s ears. ❛ and I’ve been thinking about it for days now… it’s the only thing that makes the—❜ She hesitates, searching for the right word, though there’s a quiet weight to the truth. ❛——the urges——make sense. ❜ Her lips press together in a thin line, her gaze steady, though beneath it all, the hunger swells, aching to be sated. It often times, like right now, will say terrible things like:

DEVOUR THEM. RIP THEM ALL APART. KILLKILLKILLKILLKILL—

She tilts her head slightly, studying Iago with that same unrelenting curiosity. ❛ You just seem like a smart person, ❜ she murmurs, the hint of a smile curling at the edges of her mouth. ❛ and I think I might be a smart person too. Really smart. ❜ Her voice is matter-of-fact, lacking any arrogance, merely a statement of observation. ❛ Maybe you can help me make sense of things. ❜ The words hang between them, a careful invitation, cloaked in the pretense of inquiry, but Elyndra knows there’s more at stake here than just her forgotten past. Iago is a part of that past. She’s certain of it.

Her gaze never wavers as she waits for their response, though her mind is already working, calculating. She has no memory of who she was, but her instincts have not left her. She knows how to read people, how to see beyond the surface of their words, and Iago——poor, skittish Iago——is no exception.

[skyheld]

@accultant cont from x.

Nausea rises in Gatt when Iago turns to look at him. That is nothing unusual --- it's their eyes, of course, and something with their face or expression or whole being that makes him almost dizzy like his eyes are trying to go in different directions --- but now he knows the source: it's his past, rising from his stomach through his chest through his throat, filling the back of his mouth with memories. All this time he's been looking at Iago and those memories have been just out of reach, like rising water behind a dam. The temple. Bane. Holding a pitcher of cold water while the Dark Imperceptor meets with some cultist from a neighbouring church, all murder-talk and rituals and the mundane day-to-day that keeps murders and rituals going.

Keep an eye on those creeps, Ianaris said, but don't let them notice. They're insane, whole lot of them. No sense of decorum. Hate to invite that filth into my temple but I'd be a fool to set foot in theirs. So Gatt kept them in his peripheral vision, facing forward. Except once when he turned his head and looked straight at them.

And that's the face his gaze found across the room. How could he forget? Why does he always forget---?

He remembers Iago's hands on his back that time in the Zhentarim's hideout, as tense as he was when they touched him. He'd felt like they'd connected a little. Like somewhere there was a likeness between them, the barest hint of a bond. They'd talked about... ah, yes. Murder. Iago had asked if he enjoyed it, hadn't they?

NO FUCKING SHIT THEY HAD.

"I remember you. You came to talk--- to the Banites. To my master." He spits the last word, but he does lower his voice. A little. It strikes him that they are probably going to try to kill him and he doesn't know if anyone will back him up because he doesn't trust them because he doesn't trust anyone because they all have secrets because for all he knows they could all be fucking cultists so maybe he should be more careful with what he says but it's too late for that now isn't it

Out of all the people to let his guard down around, why did he pick the one connected to Bhaal?

"Don't lie. You saw me too." Why are they so calm? He remembers their face. He does. He's holding it in his mind, that memory, and it's still slipping. "If you're not bhaalspawn you're with his church somehow."

[silvertiefling]

the types of collars she TRIES to give iago (@accultant) vs. the collars she gives puck (@bloodtwin)

[yaksha-garden]

iago dream iago dream ?

"Iago Darlington stands accused of mass poisoning, use of immoral magics including necromancy, mind-warping..."

Eden shoved themselves to the front of the crowd, bodies parting like waves for them to see the gallows. Iago's eyes were cast down, a rope dangling loose around their neck.

"Wait, wait!" Eden cried. "This is a mistake!"

The announcer continued, unmoved, listing off a long list of crimes. One row of accusations gave them pause.

"...conspiracy to obstruct justice... as an established member of the Cult of Bhaal..."

Wait, this wasn't right. Eden's protests started to wither in her throat.

"...and many, many counts of murder."

Still, Eden pushed forward, reaching towards the platform despite the crowd surging again with cheers and boos. Their nails dug into the wood as they tried to hoist themselves up, only partly able to gain purchase. Their eyes widened as the executioner reached for the lever, and their hand shot out with an indistinct shout.

A crescent-shaped arc of light cut across the stage, and sounds and sights faded into something deep, dark, and murky that still reverberated in their core, like witnessing a building collapse underwater.

They blinked, clearing the haze from their eyes, as they rumbling sound died down. In front of them, Iago fell to their knees, covering their mouth with their hand, a sickly tone to their cheeks. Instead of a gallows, they were in front of a great tree, ancient branches creaking above them.

A drop of blood fell from the canopy over Eden's eye, prompting her to look up. The executioner's feet dangled above her, the hooded figure hanging by a rope from the branch, blood dripping from a bloody stump that was once the hand on the lever. Another hung next to him -- another, and another. Everyone in the crowd, strung up by nooses from the boughs.

And then, everything went black.

[bloodtwin]

❝ iago is a loser virgin. by the way. in case anyone was wondering. ❞