#again yes i know it should be mindflayer

[insomnisnack]

Just thought I'd add to my bullshit lol

So I finally started playing Bulder's Gate 3 and I saw that I could name the save files.

[munsonbrackets]

Astarion x undying male reader

Just imagine Astarion having to lure back someone who can’t die for Cazador. 

Like Cazador didn’t tell him anyone specific, just someone pretty, which you are. Undeniably.

So he lures you over from across the bar, gets to talking, does the chatting he usually does. And you are so nice to him, but he refuses to be locked in another coffin for 200 years for not doing what Cazador said, so he lures you to Cazador.

But just a small problem with you being lured to Cazador to be turned into a spawn. You are a random dude who just cannot die. Not in the “nothing can kill me, i'm unkillable and immortal!” kind of way. No. That would be too simple. You cannot die in the “bone snapping, skull shattering, viscera brought to life once more.” kind of way.

So when Cazador attempts to turn you, you just kinda wake up again. With all of your blood still in you and a REALLY pissed off true vampire looking at you. And Cazador tries, tries again, tries 100 more times and he just cannot turn you. 

And you really can’t be bothered to stay for another 100 trials, so you just leave, first chance you get. All of the spawn think you’re one of them, Cazador being too embarrassed to tell the truth. That he was too weak to turn you.

You leave Baldur’s gate, no need to have a pissed off old vampire coming after you. Especially not when all of his plates are silver, the dude has got money.

And a while later, when you get kidnapped and forced onto the nautiloid. You were scared for the first time in a long time. You had never had an illithid parasite put into your skull. The nautiloid then came crashing down and you were half expecting to just vomit it up. The other half of you wondering whether or not your affliction with death would prevent you from becoming a mind flayer. You always heard that mindflayers very much lacked in the soul category, maybe that’s why you could never stay dead?

But you decide to go at it, you’ve been gone from Baldur’s gate for a few 100 years, maybe someone there could help. On the way you find many companions, Gale of waterdeep, Lae’zel the githyanki, Shadowheart and the rest of your astounding group.

But most importantly, Astarion. Astarion the vampire spawn. Which the group found out about fast enough, specifically when he tried to bite you. You just could not tell whether or not he knew you. Recognized you.

That is until you and him sit alone, watching the stars. 

“You remind me an awful lot about someone I used to know.” Astarion practically whispered it out, seemingly unable to make up his mind whether or not he was gonna let the words out.

“Do I now? What was he like?” You mutter back, your eyes still fixated on the stars. But you are still so aware of him next to you.

“He was… I can’t completely remember. I met him once, maybe twice.” Astarion pauses and a shuddered breath is forced out of his lungs, he’s tense. Possibly remorseful. “But he was beautiful. He would look at everyone like they were infinite. He did that to people. Made them feel invulnerable.”

You ignored Astarion’s indirect, very direct, compliment.

“What happened to him?”

The words left your lips faster than you could really think about them. You tried easing the tension by laying flat on your back, using your palms as pillows for your head. 

Astarion’s breath almost hitched at your words, but he took a second, seemingly in thought. He was probably considering whether or not he should tell you the truth. You realized you had put him into a curious position, and with the battles ahead, you were inevitably going to see Cazador once more. Cazador would definitely recognize you.

“You handed him over to Cazador, didn’t you?”

You forced the words out this time. Every single part of your very being, screaming at you to be quiet.

Astarion swallowed harshly.

“Yes. I did. I wish I could say I would do anything to bring him back from whatever wretched fate Cazador forced him into. But I can’t. It’s never that simple is it?”

An involuntary chuckle left your throat and you saw Astarion whip his head towards you, his anxiety rising a thousand fold. You quickly sat up, looked at him reassuringly, and then you gently folded his hand between yours.

“I’m certain he forgave you long ago. Especially knowing what you went through, I highly doubt he blames you.”

And in Astarion’s eyes you recognized the same man from all those years ago, the insecure vampire spawn with the twinkle of the entire universe locked in his eyes.

You hoped that you made him feel as invulnerable as the first time you met him.

[simpcityy]

My Little Spawn Pt.4 (Dadstarion X Child!Reader)

Summary: Astarion was finally free from Cazador after being kidnapped by a mindflayer but he was stuck with one annoying task, you.

Disclaimer: I do not own Baldur's Gate 3 or any of its characters.

Word Count: 1.1k

Warnings: Use of (Y/N), Cazador, language, violence, spoilers for those who haven't gone far in the game, mentions of blood, animal death...Uhhh...I think that is all.

You whine trying to chase after the ball as Astarion was tugging you back to him to check your measurements. You pout as you finally stand still. “Hells, even a cat does better at holding still. “ He sighs before slipping on your new outfit. “There, how does it fit?” He steps back watching you admire the new outfit made. “It fits me better!” You smile, finally you could stretch without hurting your limbs from how tight your old outfit was. You go to chase the ball but once again the pale elf stops you “Please don’t create holes in your new outfit” He sighs before letting you go off.  Karlach walks over “Seems like the little soldier is growing up.” She smiles watching you play off with the ball in camp. “Well obviously, they're Dhampir. Very different from humans and vampires.” He crossed his arms looking at the one horned woman. “So free spirited…do you think we can contain their blood lust?” She whispers as you were near them playing. Astarion thinks on the subject. Even he was shocked to see the bunny in pieces. “ I don’t know, that is why I am reading this book…it should be…possible since they have a human side…we just have to be patient…” He says slowly. He wasn’t even confident in his answer. “It all depends how strong our little soldier is,” Karlach smiles, keeping a positive attitude. Astarion nods and thought, ‘yes it all depends on them’ 

Night came, everyone was in the fire waiting for Gale’s cooking to be done. You look around hearing the Owl hoot but you weren’t hearing their whoo but rather how their blood pumps. Tav was watching you before gently nudge Astarion. He looks over to them before seeing Tav move their eyes towards (Y/N). He looks over to you and where you were looking before calling out your name “(Y/N) foods almost ready, look” He tries to distract you. Tav smiles seeing you and Astarion make small talk, each word flowing out of his mouth made your eyes shine with glee. The pale elf stops and gets up holding your hand. Everyone else stood up seeing the blade of Frontiers in their camp. You tried to peek around Astarion before he pushed you back “Stay back.” He mutters. After finally convincing Wyll that Karlach was no threat, everyone was back in their spot around the campfire eating the meal Gale had prepared. You look at the bowl in front of you before pushing it aside. “You need to eat” Astarion pushes the bowl back into your hands. You shake your head “No!” You whine. 

Wyll looks over “ I find it odd that a vampire spawn is looking after a child.” He smiles looking at you fighting Astarion with the bowl. Tav looks up “It’s not really…(Y/N) isn’t exactly Human either…or …a vampire spawn…” They began. Wyll looks over to them. “Oh? What can this little adorable apple be?” He smiles. “For the love of…just tell the monster hunter.” Astarion huffs feeling annoyed as you reject the spoon in your mouth. “They are a Dhampir” Tav broke the news as Wyll stopped midway with the spoon in his mouth. “ I beg your pardon…” He says looking back at you seeing the spoon being shoved gently in your mouth with the help of Gale holding you still. “ A Dhampir ... .never in my life haunting…I would ever come across such a creature…an adorable one as well.” He walks over to you, taking a look. “Watch it, they are not some artwork” Astarion mutters, placing you in his lap and kept feeding you. Keeping you away from Wyll. 

The day has risen and you were happily bouncing around holding on to Tav as you were included in the group. Astarion threw a fit, not wanting to leave you alone with Wyll and Gale who were going to be left behind. So here you were, admiring the wilderness before looking over and hearing some shouting in the distance. “I told you this is better if (Y/N) joins us when we won’t be battling the globins to rescue this stupid Halsin guy. Gale is so irresponsible and Wyll, don’t get me started” Astarion huffs. Shadowheart turns around but stops “We lost them….” She sighs.  Tav turns around “(Y/N)?” They call out before walking around trying to find you before seeing you standing in front of a wooden cage that had Lae’zel inside. “Don’t ever leave our side” Tav looks over to you before walking forward to speak with Lae’zel. Astarion walks over and holds your hand. “Don’t ever walk off ever again! You do know this goes on the possibility of letting you join in our adventures.” He looks at you. “But I heard yelling so I wanted to check it out.” You pout only for Astarion to sigh “You are a big headache you know that?” He mutters holding your hand letting Tav handle the situation with Lae’zel.

After not getting a please from Lae’zel, everyone was back at camp. Gale was cooking as always, everyone else was doing their own thing. You were walking around the camp, collecting even more flowers. You were collecting them near Lae’zel’s camp “Istik, come here” She called out. You walk over holding your flowers staying quiet. “What are you, are you also a vampire Spawn?” Her eyes look at yours. “No…I’m a Dhampir.” You meekly whisper. “Chk, a Dhampir.” She says “Listen here Istik, if you ever take one bite off of me. I will show you what a blade does” She threatens. You only tear  up and ran off running to Astarion who was busy talking to Tav, “Astarion!” You yelled, hugging his leg. “What’s the matter?” He looks down at you and picks you up. “She! She!” You only hiccup, not able to form complete sentences. “Come out now, I am no mind reader.” Tav rubs your back “ What’s wrong?” They whisper. “She threatened me…” You whisper, laying your chubby cheek on Astarions shoulder. Tav looks over to where you were pointing. “ I see, you have nothing to worry about. I’ll talk to her.” They pat your head and walk off. Astarion huffs “Oh please, she only did so because she was scared of you. She knows you’re powerful…even I know your strength ... .so does Cazador.” He whispers and rubs your back. “I think it’s time we eat and then we’ll sleep for the night?” He plants soft kisses to the side of your head and he stops. What the hells was that for? Why did he do that? He looks down at you only to see you smile clinging on to him. Watching Shadowheart and Lae’zel argue with each other,  Tav tries to keep the peace between the two. He smiles, planting one more on your head and walks over to the campfire.

[thedomesticanthropologist]

Sivvus strips naked the moment they get to a river, wading in to wash the Mindflayer muck out of his hair and off his body.

Astarion whistles

Gale turns red as a beet and starts saying things like "HOOOBOYYY" and "GOSH, WELL"

but then flinches and makes a pained expression at himself, rubs his forehead, turns around to face away, turns back to ask a question, fumbles, turns away again, puts his fists on his hips and sighs really loudly and then realizes that makes no sense, points at a bird,

"YOU know those are rare in these parts-" voice cracks, clears his throat, rocks back and forth on his heels, "MmmhmMM! YES. Very. Very... ah... shall- are we stopping, now? Should we camp set up- set up camp perhaps-"

Sivvus, undisturbed, only submerged to his mid thigh with every expanse of his smooth, hairless, un-scarred, toned body on full display: "You all should bathe as well, I can smell you from here."

Astarion, unsure if he can tolerate running water yet: "And miss the show? Mm, I think I'll watch from here, darling."

Gale: "IM actually Quite FINE. Not that you aren't fine, Sivvus. You are very, very fine I just mean- for cleanliness I'm fine. You're, you- ah. I'll. Later."

Sivvus, deep frowny: "You're disgusting. Get in the river, both of you."

On that day a few things were learned: Sivvus has no concept of body shame.Astarion can go in running water, and Gale? Gale bathes with his entire outfit on.

Apparently.

When in company.

He also, by the look of the stream of bubbles coming up when he dunked his head, may or may not have taken the opportunity to scream under cover of River.

[cocomochicakes]

FIRST (F!Tav x Rolan)

A/N:: So I decided the Tieflings of this game don't get enough love so here you have pure, unadulterated PWP.

(And if you wish to be tagged for updates, please comment below!)

WORD COUNT: 13,913

RATINGS: E

WARNINGS: Adult language, Crude Humor, Explicit Sexual Content

PAIRINGS: Rolan x F!Tav

SPECIAL TAGS: @themeghanlodon @mushi42

READ ON AO3

SUMMARY: It's been three years since the Great Mindflayer Invasion in Baldur's Gate and though the companions have all gone their separate ways, Tav remains in the Gate working as a traveling alchemist who studies magical plants and their uses for potions all while getting closer to a certain grumpy Archwizard. When a normal night at Elfsong becomes heated, Tav and Rolan become closer than they thought.

Elfsong Tavern is in full bloom as dusk turns to twilight and the patrons of Baldur’s Gate fill the hall with their grand stories of adventures both inside beyond the gate. A bard strums his lute and plays for patrons, his song among the chaotic din of clattering plates, tinking glasses, and the laughter and merriment from many an adventurer. Off in a far corner seated in an alcove upon a plush set of chairs Rolan and you are seated. It’s been 3 years since the fall of the Netherbrain and the reconstruction of Baldur’s Gate back to its former glory. After your companions had departed to the next steps of their own journey and you decided to remain in the Gate and settle into a life as an alchemist and apothecary with the knowledge gained from many of your travels. Tonight was like any other end to a tenday for both you and Rolan as you had often been contracted by him to bring him ingredients for spells and research and tonight you had suggested the two of you indulge in an evening away from work after a week filled with absolute mayhem within Sorcerous Sundries.

Rolan seems to be distracted as you tap your tankard to his, hoping to get his attention. “Oh forgive me, I got distracted. What were you saying again?” his voice is alert and attended to your presence finally. You smirk at him and tease, “you were just about to compliment my fantastic self on how incredible I am for all the merchandise I was able to deliver on such short notice.” You got up from your seat momentarily to do a small twirl and pose as a mighty hero before sitting back into your chair.

Rolan chuckles at your antics. He’s grown over the years to be a tad soft though most people see the Archmage of Ramazith Tower as quite stoic and grumpy at times, though if anyone knew the truth, they most likely would never believe it. He smiles at you setting his drink down before leaning in on his hand. "I was indeed. I simply can't help myself when confronted with such beauty and grandeur as yourself," he replies.

You know he’s playfully teasing you as he always seems to. “But aren't I? I am grand and wonderful and you are blessed to know such a magnificent woman as me.” Your words are light and you gesticulate how incredible you are with a twirl and sway of your tankard before taking a deep swig. Rolan can’t help but laugh at your now most likely inebriated antics. "Yes... Yes, you are indeed grand and wonderful. I do feel quite blessed to be in your presence, oh great one..." he says with a sly smile.

Your gaze meets his and there’s a palpable energy between the two of you and you know the alcohol is taking effect as your banter begins to get more flirtatious between shy glances. “Hmm and because I am so grand, I feel like I should give you a reward.” Your voice is like honey to him and he sees you lean in close to him from across the small round table. The alcohol is definitely taking effect as Rolan doesn't seem to be aware of the intimate situation he has found himself in "And what sort of reward would that be, oh great and wondrous one? You have my complete attention," he asks, leaning in slightly with a flirtatious glance and another sly smile.

An eyebrow lifts and you walk your fingers up one of his arms before bringing a hand to his chest as you lean close to his ear. “What kind would you like?”

Rolan shivers at the touch, biting his lip as his eyes look up at you in surprise. Your touch is foreign to him outside of the occasional brush of hands but it stirs something within him, a false sense of bravado to which spurs more banter. "I wouldn't want to presume," he says softly. "I am but a humble creature in comparison to your greatness. But for you, I am at your mercy. Any sort of reward would be a pleasure."

You smirk and slot yourself between his legs as he sits on the stool and towers over you and he blushes deeply, breathing rapidly as he finds himself in a new and unexpected position.

 "And... And what do you plan to do here? Oh wonderful one?" He glances around the room, noticing only a few other patrons who take notice of the sight unfurling in a corner of the room but then quickly look away and resume their own conversations.

You bring yourself close to his lips to where you can almost taste the alcohol in his small, unsteady breaths. “Perhaps a kiss would suffice?” you say without a hint of hesitation, your eyes looking between his and his slightly parted lips.

He swallows hard, eyes glancing between your lips and eyes, and leans in closer. "Perhaps... But I could not possibly..." He takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly. The alcohol is clouding his judgement and his body feels suddenly warm as he leans forward even further, his lips just millimeters from yours. You can feel his breath on your lips as he hesitates. The air and din around you still.

You feel his hesitance, his reluctance and push it from your mind, closing the gap between your mouths to place a small, soft, gentle kiss on his lips before parting. The kiss is short but sweet, leaving an instant impact on Rolan's brain, muddling any thoughts he had in that moment. His lips begin to feel warm and his heart starts beating wildly, his breath coming in sharp, quick gasps. He glances up at you with wide eyes, his lips still parted slightly from the kiss. Awe.

You smile at him I think that is a perfect reward to bestow.

Rolan seems overwhelmed by the feeling the kiss left behind. His breath still coming in quick gasps, as he can't seem to control it. The warmth in his lips is still present, and his eyes are wide and shining "That was... amazing," he finally says softly, his words barely perceptible to your ears through the din of the tavern.

You glance down shyly and look back up to him. “We could....do it again.”

He’s looking at you with a longing gaze, biting his lip softly as he nods "Yes... Yes, I think we should. Just... Just once more." He looks around again, ensuring no one else is looking before pushing the small table between you slightly forward, inching ever so slightly closer, his warmth radiating into your vicinity. He meets your lips this time and again the kiss is soft and sweet before he parts with you. Your gaze is half-lidded and wandering to his. It stirs a beating in your heart, sending it racing inside your chest.

The second kiss is every bit as good as the first, leaving Rolan wanting for more. His lips are still parted slightly from the kiss, his eyes half-lidded with a dreamy gaze as he takes in the sight of you before him. He glances around the room one last time before leaning forward again, this time more bold, and initiating a third kiss however this time, his kiss is more passionate. His arms wrap around your body in a tight embrace, pulling you close. The kiss becomes increasingly more passionate, leaving Rolan dizzy with both pleasure and surprise as his tongue and lips slide against yours. His breathing is shallow and quick into the kiss, and his heart is racing like a whirlwind as his mouth opens further to allow your tongue to slide with grace against his. He’s slowly losing control of himself and his desire as he kisses.

You moan into his mouth as you feel every movement of his tongue and lips against yours. It’s euphoria, pure bliss where your mind is blank. Tabula Rasa. Rolan moans softly in response, his mouth opening fully as he gives in to the sensation. Your tongues are dancing eagerly and every motion of yours seems to send ripples of pleasure through his body and leaving his hand desperately grasping at your back. You slowly part from one another, your chests heaving as you gaze into one another's eyes, your lips both swollen and flushed. He stares at you, the feeling still washing over him as he feels completely and utterly enraptured. In that moment, Rolan sees only you. He breaths deep, his mouth still feeling warm and tingly from the kiss. He looks down at your lips, eyes still longing and yearning for another taste of them mingled with drink on his tongue.

In your haze, you forgotten you are in public until you hear a whistle come from across the room paired with a few catcalls. Your face flushes. Rolan looks up from you and glances around the room, realizing where the both of you are. His blush deepens as people's eyes are looking over at the two of you, clearly having witnessed the very-heated kiss between the two of you. He glances back down at you with a sheepish smile and shakes his head. "Perhaps a bit too much for a public place, eh?" his voice carries a hint of embarrassment for what has just transpired between you two.

You laugh in return at the awkward situation you’ve found yourself in. “Probably not the place to be giving this kind of show I suppose…” your voice trails off as you cast your gaze to the side. Rolan chuckles in response to your comment, his cheeks still flushed and his lips still feeling warm from the kiss. "I'm not sure there's a place for this kind of show at all," he replies playfully. "It would require a private room and a proper bed."

Your eyes go wide and your whole body flushes in disbelief that mentioned a private room and bed and perhaps just implied he wishes to sleep with you. He notices the sudden change in your demeanor, and his eyebrows raise in curiosity as he glances down at you, quickly realizing exactly what he just said. He tries to play it off, his gaze going up and down your figure and flitting about the tavern in panic.  "I wasn't... I was... well, not joking, but..." He trails off, he says, clearly embarrassed at his accidental slip of tongue, tucking his top lip between his teeth in shame.

Your face is bright red and your heart is hammering out of your chest and you say something that you believe may be the result of a bit too much alcohol:

“Unless...you want to...”

Unless you want to.

Rolan's eyes go wide while he processes your words to their entirety. Unless you want to. Though you seem to follow up on his joke, everything suddenly stops feeling so playful. His heart begins to beat wildly, and he struggles to respond to what you said. His head is spinning, repeating your words again and again, his gaze is blank as he stares at you.

He finally seems to snap out of his panic, takes a deep breath and speaks though he can barely get the words past his lips. "A-Are... Are you suggesting..." He pauses again, swallowing hard and unable to meet your eyes. This surely can’t be what he thinks it is…can it?

You bashfully look down and your hands are playing with the hem of your blouse, twiddling a stray thread between your fingers. ”I mean...if you wanted to...I wouldn't say no to it. Bedding me that is.”

Your eyes glance up from your sleeve to quickly meet his before returning to the thread on your sleeve. Rolan's eyes snap up to you, his heart hammering so hard he can feel it shaking the wall of his chest. His mind seizes. You want him to bed you? Him. You. Bed. Touching. Sex. His tongue lays heavy in his mouth and he can barely get out a single sound.

 "I... I..." He pauses. No words seem to come to him strong enough to defy his tongue, so he simply nods his head in your direction and makes a small sound of agreement.

You note his inability to speak and the way his eyes are wide and jaw has slacked. To break the tension, you take a swig of your drink and clear your throat starting to believe that perhaps he doesn’t truly see you the way you had originally assumed.

 “Unless you don't want to but I'm just offering...I quite fancy you, Rolan. I think you're grand and enjoy when we meet up like this. And...I've always wondered what it would be like...with you.” Your eyes are softly gazing at him, your cheeks flushed. It’s embarrassing and exciting all at once, your heart is beating almost in your ears and your stomach is filled with butterflies hoping he does indeed feel the same way.

Rolan's breath catches in his throat, so overwhelmed by your words and the offer that he feels unable to respond. His cheeks are still flushed with the blush that is starting to fill his face and he can’t bear to make eye contact with you for fear he might combust. He opens his mouth to finally respond, but again he finds no words. Instead he just nods his head once again, nodding furiously and saying yes to you, before he finally has the courage to bring his eyes up, never letting his gaze leave yours.

You chuckle and cast a coy gaze at him. The man with so many words is speechless for once. “Then if you'd like...we can go back to my place and...get comfortable.” It’s an offer you’ve wanted to ask him time and time again but never had the courage to do and a part of you is thanking the bit of alcohol you’ve had tonight for helping you be able to speak the words that have been mulling in your head for months.

His face continues to glow red with embarrassment, as he feels like he has been utterly disarmed by your words and your offer. Yet, a smile creeps onto his lips, his gaze never leaving yours. "Y-Yes... I think I would very much like that." You feel your heart soar and the butterflies in your stomach rise into your throat as you realize that perhaps he does indeed see you the way you see him.

“Then let us head to my apartment. It's not far from here.”

Your words are more confident sounding than you currently feel in asking a man back to your abode. You glance to him and Rolan nods his head once again, feeling his heart beating wildly and his breath coming in short gasps as he realizes this is all really happening, that you’re intending to do more than simply spend an evening in your apartment together playing cards. The flirtation and the passion between you and him that has existed for months was all finally culminating to the moment he wanted so badly, one he would never admit he had quite literally dreamed of to some much embarrassing results. He stands from his seat, reaching out his hand to you, his tail flitting nervously behind him. A slight laugh escapes your lips as you grab his hand and lead him from the tavern, ignoring the catcalls and whistles from behind the both of you.

Rolan doesn't care about the catcalls and whistles either. He feels too caught up in the moment; too caught up in the anticipation and excitement of what's to come. You hold his hand as you lead him along the street to your apartment, neither one of you saying a word as you walk between drunken citizens singing sea shanties and other citizens from the Lower City.

When you arrive, you unlock the door and take off your shoes in your quaint entry. It's a small studio apartment on the top floor with a window garden and bookcases lining the walls filled with books that overlooks the street below and has a grand view of the night sky and ocean. He glances around taking in the sight of your apartment and notes how cozy it is filled with plants and books of all kinds.

Rolan follows you inside, taking a closer look at the various pots and climbing flowering plants that adorn a small table and the copious amount of well-read books littered about in stacks. The apartment is surprisingly comfortable, making him feel more at ease than he has the whole night. He notes to himself that your abode is very much like what he had always guessed it would look like. His eyes scan the titles before he looks over at you, smiling softly at the sight of you inside your own home for the first time.

“I know it’s not much...but when you travel as much as me, you don't need a lot.”

Rolan gives a modest laugh as you finish your sentence, he nods, and then looks around a bit more. The book collections, the plants, the apartment itself all shows an interesting side of you that he has not yet seen but one he always imagined. Once again his gaze meets yours, and he can't help but smile "I think your place is... it's wonderful. It's a nice home."

“I'm glad you like it. Would you like some tea? You're unsure how one is to begin this sort of thing with a man.”

You tuck your hands behind your back waiting for his response. The moment of hesitation gives Rolan a moment to gather himself slightly, his breath once again coming in short bursts as he stares openly at you. He nods his head, not quite able to take his eyes off of you. "Tea would be... wonderful, I think."

Rolan watches as you put on a kettle and grab a jar filled with a peculiar bright flower. It’s a rare floral tea you obtained from your trip to Chult on an expedition the previous year. It's fragrant, soft, inviting.

He smiles quietly as the scent of the flowery tea fills the room.. He can't help but sniff the air and let it fill his lungs. The scent is inviting and relaxing, much like a fresh rain upon flowers, and makes him feel at ease again after the rush of emotions from earlier. He glances around the room again, a soft grin spread over his face, as he waits patiently for the tea to brew and walks to your small table.

As you pour the tea for the both of you, Rolan notices a book left open on the table next to a small bag of yours. His eye catches your book on the table, and he glances over to it nervously, wondering if he should be prying into something that could be private. He hesitates briefly, but then he is unable to resist the temptation of reading. It was only out in the open after all. He steps closer to the table, and glances over at it curiously.

It's your journal and in it, you have been documenting a variety of flowers and herbs along with sporadic notes, which appear to be the titles of books.

As he glances down at your journal, his eyes linger briefly on the title written at the top. "Field Study of Plants and Herbs." He looks down and sees that each page contains various notes and studies you've made from your travels. He smiles softly, looking up to you. "Are these from your travels?" He asks softly, the journal's cover close to his face now.

You smile and set down the cups of tea as you sit with him. “Yes...I've come to find many of the plants I've worked with have properties of not only healing, but also as potent poisons. Some even require a source of magic to grow...I've been working to document them for future potions. Most of which you yourself have seen when I come into Sorcerous Sundries.”

The journal contains so much information from your travels, and Rolan is in awe of the detail of your notes and studies. From the way you describe the plants, it seems like you've done a lot of experimentation and research on them even down to the most minute of details. "That's amazing, I had no idea the plants and herbs in these regions would have such properties,” he dexterously flips a page and scans another, “Are they found in many places?". He briefly sets the book down and grabs the tea you have gifted him, taking a slow sip and savoring the delicate taste.

“Unfortunately not...most require specific circumstances to thrive and maintain their magical properties. Some species are elusive and only found in the most difficult places to reach. However, that's what makes my work rewarding. Being the first to find them and make use of their properties.” You take a seat at the table and smile fondly as he admires your work.

Rolan smiles back at you, your passion and determination for your field making him feel a wave of admiration for you. You seem like the type of person that would seek out the impossible, and do what others couldn't. He takes another sip of his tea and sits down next to you, tucking his tail around the leg of the chair. "That's very admirable. I doubt many people could be able to say they've done what you have in the pursuit of knowledge and magic."

You blush and grasp your tea with both hands, tucking your knees to your chest. “It's the nature of being an alchemist I suppose. I just...I want to learn all I can so at least someone can make use of it.” You gaze wanders to the farside of the room where an alchemical elixir is currently distilling amongst a menagerie of glass vials, tubes, and beakers.

Rolan follows your gaze over to the far side of the room, taking in the sight of the various bottles and potions that litter the table. His eyes linger on the elixir, as he watches the liquids inside it change as it brews "Is that another potion you're making? Its color is very different from anything I've seen before" he chimes, his curiosity piqued by your setup.

“It is,” your voice is confident and warm, “I'm working on a substance which can be used to reduce magical sickness in those who can't appropriately expel the Weave from their body or who end up taking on too much of it. Namely for young Wizards and Sorcerers in training. It's made with Sussur bark I obtained in the Underdark. Would you like to see?”

You take a sip of your tea and tilt your head as you ask him the question. Rolan turns in his seat, his eyes darting towards the bottle of the brewing potion. He leans closer from his chair as he can't help but stare at the liquid inside it, fascinated by the change it goes through. "Would I like to see? I would be thrilled."

You set your tea down, get up and he follows you over to your alchemy table and you grab a small vial of prepared liquid. It shimmers and glows when the vial is turned, briefly emitting a shimmering blue hue that illuminates the vial as the liquid tosses and swishes inside. “This is the purest form of Sussur extract. Upon ingestion, it can almost completely eliminate the ability for one to use magic. It could be used defensively or for medicinal purposes. Think about the children who are practicing magic and intake too much of the Weave, causing severe illness. Being a wizard I’m sure you perhaps have had a few magical mishaps yourself. It could solve the problem with a single drop.” Your eyes glow beneath the agitated liquid, a sense of wonder and awe at the concoction you’ve managed to synthesize.

Rolan leans forward to get a closer look at the liquid you hold between two fingers, the glow it emits mesmerizing him. He stares openly and in awe as you describe the effects of it - even more so at the concept of people who can't properly manage their use of magic. He turns his attention back to the liquid and gives it a cautious experimental sniff as you remove the lid - it smells strangely sweet, like honey.

“Sweet isn't it?” You reinsert the cork before explaining its origins further. “It's a beautiful, mesmerizing flowering tree but very dangerous to get to as many creatures call its roots home. As you near it, it also completely dulls your ability to use magic so the only way to get it is with your bare hands and a sword.

Rolan nods his head in admiration. Your knowledge is something to be marveled at and he begins to wonder how you managed to attain it to begin with.

“This Sussur extract is certainly unique,” he says, admiring the small vial, "I'm starting to think the entire Underdark is built to be as hazardous as possible to outsiders."

You smile mischievously, quirking an eyebrow. “Oh indeed it is. The denizens aren't exactly...friendly to humans like myself. I don a drow disguise much of the time I'm down there. Pays to look the part for safety you know?”

Rolan's eyes light up at the mention of drow disguise "You disguise yourself as a drow? How do you even manage that? Doesn't that mean dressing up as a drow and speaking Common with a drow accent, all while trying not to betray the fact that you're not an actual drow?"

You chuckle at his idea. “Sort of. I can't cast much magic but I do know…” your words cut off as you wave your hands and utter a phrase and before his eyes stands the image of a female Lolth-sword Drow “..Disguise Self. Handy isn't it?”

His eyes widen and his mouth opens slightly as he takes in the illusion before him. He stares in awe at the drow's attire, her features. It really is a flawless disguise. He feels the heat rise to his cheeks slightly as he stares. He clears his throat and glances back up at you as you do a small twirl with a curtsy at the end.

"That... I can't even put it in words how convincing that is. I've always heard Drow have an eerie beauty to them, but I've never actually met one."

You do another twirl, much slower this time. “Surprisingly neither have I. At least a live one anyway.”

Rolan watches you twirl, his heart racing for a moment. He is very intrigued by you in this moment, your appearance and overall aura just making him feel... something strange. You're like an enigma and it only makes him want to know more about you. He smiles "So you've never actually met a live Drow? As in…you’ve seen dead ones?"

You dispel Disguise Self as you speak. “No, not a live one. I've come across the corpses of male Drow routinely and many Duegar and Deep Gnomes but never a living Drow. Most reside in Menzoberranzan and I tend to steer clear of the area lest I be caught. My disguise can only go so far,” your tone is serious but he is intrigued by even the notion that you’ve wandered the Underdark alone.

"Menzoberranzan, the city of spiders. I've heard of it, and I too would avoid that area if I could. The Drow have a very well-earned reputation for being evil and ruthless" Rolan says, clearly fascinated with your experiences.

You hum, placing the vile down as you lean on your desk. “I think this is partially true. They are a matriarchal society who uses men as breeding stock and only allows 2 sons per family. They sacrifice any more than that, deeming them a waste of resources. I've come to learn that these sons, or even adult male Drow who disobey their Houses, may be sacrificed to Lolth herself and become monstrosities. However, there are Seladrine Drow that I've heard of, peaceful drow that wish to be accepted by those above and who do not share the evil inclinations of their Lolth-sworn cousins. I’ve even heard rumors there are two who sell their intimate services at Sharess’ Caress from a few adventurers.”

A moment of hesitation precedes his next question as he processes the facts you’ve stated. "Do you know why a society like that even exists? Why they follow Lolth so devoutly?"

Again you hum in response before explaining, “Most people don't. The only reason I know is because there are rumors that the legendary Drizzt Do’Urden is a Seladrine.”

He nods his head "I've heard the tales of Drizzt and the heroic exploits. If there are truly Drow that possess these traits, how do they fare in the Underdark among their more aggressive race? Wouldn't they be looked down upon as outcasts?"

“Precisely. Which is why I ensure my eyes are red when I travel to gather supplies in the Underdark. Red eyes are a hallmark of Lolth-sworn Drow.”

Your explanation makes absolute sense. The Underdark has proven to be an unforgiving environment, one that does not tolerate any weakness or kindness. Those that do possess these traits, like the Seladrine drow, must either adapt or pretend to be cruel or be killed by others for their weakness. It makes sense then that they would blend in with the other Drow to stay alive.

“Hence why this bark and extract are so precious...many die trying to get it.” Your gaze turns somber for a moment and Rolan notes that you probably knew many alchemists and apothecaries who lost their lives attempting to get it.

"That extract and the bark from the tree itself must be incredibly rare, and I'm sure it can be used for a number of purposes. It's no wonder your research is so important - I can't imagine the amount of lives you would save in just making such a small amount of this extract. I can understand now why you travel and risk so much." His voice is soft, almost reverent as he speaks.

It brings a smile to your lips that he understands the magnitude of your work. “I find the rarest of plants and bring their essences back to this humble abode to synthesize the best potions, elixirs, and tinctures money can buy. Many of which you yourself have handled and are the first to see in use.”

Rolan stares at you, listening intently as you enter your passionate explanation. You seem so... happy. Your passion and energy is evident as you speak about your work and the ingredients you find and he is honored to learn you entrusted him with some of the first potions of their kind for study and use. He smiles back at you, tail swaying contently, admiring your charisma and devotion to your field. "Your work is astounding, the sheer amount of patience and dedication must be immense."

You smile at him brightly. “It's no different than yours researching magic and magical items, creating scrolls, finding new methods to manifest the Weave. My area just involves plants.”

Rolan chuckles at your reply "You make it sound so trivial. Your work involves hunting down the most dangerous ingredients you can find, risking your life in such a hostile environment that is so far beneath the comfort of civilization. I merely sit and read scrolls and research ancient texts; my work is far less taxing and exhausting than yours."

“You make me sound like a hero...I'm none of that. I just enjoy the rush of it all.”

Rolan shakes his head and smiles. "That is the exact reason why I say you are, in fact, a hero. You put your life on the line when you could just as easily go into a less dangerous and hostile profession that pays the same. But that's not what you desire - you need a challenge, a rush. You are like a thrill seeker, chasing the excitement and adventure that comes with your work and I am honored to be witness to many of your creations."

You blush as he gets closer to you. His words feel more meaningful than any compliment you’ve ever received as his words are not simply those of admiration but respect for your passion.

You can't help but feel the heat of your blush as it paints your cheeks, your gaze cast shyly away from Rolan as he steps closer to you. Your reaction is so adorable and endearing to him that he feels himself beginning to blush as well. Your eyes meet his and the two of you just stare at one another, the silence only becoming louder as the heat intensifies. The only noise is the pounding of your heart in your chest.

“Rolan...I think you sell yourself short on what you do. I think what you do is fascinating.”

Your eyes linger on each other, neither of you able to break away in some kind of awkward yet heated stalemate. The silence is palpable, and the heat rising between your bodies is intense as neither one of you can keep our eyes off each other. You comment makes the heat rise even more in his cheeks and he feels himself becoming more flustered and self-aware of the situation at hand. He nods his head slightly, not knowing what else to say. Finally, he musters up the courage to speak, as his eyes dart from your lips to your eyes "You really think so?"

“I do,” you grab his hands, “You've done so much for this city with your research and skills. Not to mention how you took over three years ago. I find it rather impressive…”

Your hand feels so soft in his and the touch of you feels like electricity - sending a shiver down his spine. He smiles bashfully at you, unable to hide how flustered he is. He clears his throat and nods his head "I've never done it for the purpose of the city's benefit. I've simply worked to further my magical knowledge. And..." he pauses, his eyes narrowing slightly as they look away, "I've never actually had anyone praise me so much before."

You're staring up at him through soft eyes. “A pity...you deserve more.”

His breath catches in his throat for a moment, the feeling of your soft gaze making him feel nervous and excited at the same time. He looks down at you again, your smiling face catching him off guard. He's never felt this strongly towards someone else before. He finally responds, trying to remain as composed as he can. "Perhaps you are right about me selling myself short, but I could say the same about you. Your talents and dedication deserve recognition."

“I don't do it for the recognition...I do it because it makes me happy you know?”

Rolan smiles, finding that he understands you completely. He nods his head in agreement "I know...I think a lot of people would be shocked to know that's why I do what I do. I could sit and read magical texts and scrolls all day and not be bothered by it in the slightest. I enjoy researching magic. It makes me feel excited, thrilled, and it gives me a purpose. I think more people need to follow their passions like you and I do. That way... a lot of people wouldn't be so unhappy."

“I agree. I love discovering new things, it only for the sake of knowledge.”

Rolan listens to every word you say, nodding his head. You seem so passionate about your work, as a researcher. “That is certainly something you and I have in common” he says, heat rising in his cheeks. He smiles at you before elaborating, "I think the two of us are very similar. We both strive to gain knowledge, to understand something new and unknown to us. I suppose that's why we get along so well..."

You blush as you lean against his chest and hug him. “I suppose that is…”

Your words trail off softly as you feel your chest against his. He wraps his arms around you, pulling you in closer. Your body is like a furnace and his heart is pounding loudly. He's never felt like this before - so nervous and excited all at once. Rolan looks down at you as your bodies touch, your soft body and beautiful face the only things occupying his mind right now. He wants to stay like this forever.

“Rolan...what I said earlier. I really do fancy you a lot.”

He freezes mid-sentence as you speak, feeling you tuck yourself into his chest further. He's been waiting for these words, dying to hear them from you. He wants to believe you mean them, that they're genuine. You tilt your head up away from his chest and he stares into your eyes, which seem to have a spell on them that won't let him look away. The silence is loud as you both stare at each other, neither of you wanting to break this intimate moment. His heart beats faster with every second that passes and he swears you can feel it too.

You’re gazing at one another, closer and closer you get, lips a mere breath from touching.

The two of you are so close to each other now. You feel like you can breathe in each other's energy. Rolan's mouth is millimeters away from yours, as the two of you hold each other tightly. You feel as if you have finally found something real...something pure. Your lips are so close, you can practically taste each other's breath. Your hands grip each other tightly, as if you never want to let go.

“Rolan...tell me you want this” you gaze up at him with pleading eyes, your hands gently grasping at his robe.

His breath comes in shallow, quick breaths as he gazes down at you. You look up at him with such intense desire that he feels his heart stop. He wants this, he needs this. Your lips are so close and he wants nothing more than to finally meet them.

Your eyes flicker to his lips.

At the hint of your eyes flickering to his lips, Rolan leans down slowly. Your eyes meet before closing and your breath hits each other's tongues. It's happening; you feel so alive in the moment. Your breath catches as your lips touch and you feel like you may never recover. All other noises from the street below drown out as you both finally kiss, your hearts pounding. Rolan's hands are gripped tightly around you, as if he cannot bear letting you go.

Your kiss is soft and sensual. His lips press to yours as he pulls you into a deep embrace. Your kiss turns passionate, his tongue sliding against yours and you can't help but moan into it.

The moan surprises him and his breath catches in his throat once more. He pulls you in closer, kissing you more intensely. He wants this kiss more than anything, you're like a magnet that he can't pull away from. The kiss grows more and more passionate, your lips sliding against each other, bodies pressing tightly together. With each breath, heat flows throughout your bodies, each one taking in the other's energy.

You move your hands to grasp at his back and bring him closer. You can't help but want more of him as he feels as though he's devouring every inch of your soul in his kiss, a price you would gladly pay to feel more of him in this way.

Rolan responds to your touch, moving his hands to hold your body tightly against his. Your body presses against him and he wants you all over him, his breath is short and fast as he loses himself in you. He moves to kiss you more, wanting to consume you with everything he has. His tongue explores your mouth, sliding along your teeth and lips, as he tries to make sure you feel him in just the right places while your hands hold him close. He kisses you deeply, he’s lost entirely in this moment with you.

You slowly break the kiss your chest heaving as you look up at him, your eyes are glassy and your lips swollen, chest heaving  and mouth slightly agape. “Rolan...I need you to know something.”

Rolan looks down at you, breathing heavily himself. His eyes meet yours, as he's waiting for you to finish your statement. He wants to know what it is you wanted to say, whatever it is - he has a feeling it won't change the way he looks at you.

“I...I've never done this before…” Your eyes wander away from his bashfully as he holds you at his chest. His heart is pounding out of his ears as he tries to register your words.

Rolan feels his breath catch in his throat. He stares at you for a moment, not sure how to respond. “You've never done this before? You're a talented, gorgeous woman who could have any man she wanted - and he was the man you chose.” A rush of elation and pride washes over him, as if that one fact is enough to set him over the moon.

You sheepishly look away from him. “Perhaps it was foolish of me to wait but...I have had opportunities but turned them down. I only ever wanted to do this with someone I cared for and for the last two years....I was hoping that would be you.” You jolt into him and bury your head in his chest in embarrassment.

Rolan's heart leaps in his chest. Your words make his heart ache and smile all at the same time. You've been wishing this for years? That's a powerful fact to hear. That means that out of anyone who's wanted you, I'm the lucky one? Rolan can't help but smile bashfully, as he pulls you closer to him still. His lips graze your head, as he holds you close. The feeling of your body against his is so warm and comforting, like home.

You mumble into his chest. “Rolan please say something oh gods I'm so embarrassed....”

He chuckles softly, wrapping his arms around you tighter, bringing your body against his. He nuzzles his cheek against your hair and whispers in response, his voice soft and comforting. "There's no need to be embarrassed. I never would have wanted this to be with anyone else. It's... it's almost as if I've been waiting for this moment my entire life."

You look at him clearly still embarrassed. “I knew going into this that you perchance had more experience than me since you're extremely handsome and you're well...the Archmage of Ramazith Tower. You've got all of these things and I'm just the adventuring alchemist girl who makes interesting potions.”

Rolan chuckles, shaking his head as you continue your sentence. “You're such a shy, sweet girl, and it's endearing, you know that?” Rolan can't help but smile at everything you say. He strokes your hair gently and lets his hand slide down your back. "Oh... oh, my dear. First of all, you are not just a mere 'adventuring alchemist' - you are an extremely talented woman with the most creative mind I've ever seen in a mage. And secondly..."

You look into his eyes finally as he gazes down at you softly, awaiting his reply. Your heart is racing

His gaze holds yours intensely. Your heart is thumping against your chest, trying to burst out. He finally responds, pulling you in until your lips are almost touching "Your intellect is what drew me to you, yes... but it's your personality that made me want to stay. You're kind and sensitive, with a playful streak and a fiery nature. You care about the world in the most empathetic way, and you always try to do what's good and right, even if it's at your own expense."

You feel your heart flutter.

“You think all those things of me? Truly?”

Rolan's smile widens as he gazes at you, his lips an inch away from touching. You can feel his breath softly brushing against your lips "Truly... I've never known anyone who compares to you. You're more than talented, more than beautiful... you're truly the most incredible person I've ever met."

“Then Rolan...” your words become quiet briefly before steeling yourself and speaking confidently, “…show me. I want to be yours.”

Rolan's eyebrows arch higher in surprise, as he stares at you. But his eyes linger on your lips. In this moment, he can't help but want this, to be yours. To be with you. After a moment, he pulls you in for another kiss, this one more powerful and passionate than the last. You feel his hands grip you tighter, as his lips hold yours with intensity. He kisses you deeply, slowly at first but picks up quickly. His breath catches in his throat as he feels his body responding to yours.

You feel him grasping you tightly in his embrace and you wrap your arms around his neck to pull him deeper into the kiss. His kisses make your lips tingle and your body flush with heat. As you kiss him, you guide him back towards your bed while pawing at his robes.

He allows you to guide him. Your hands on him are like a spark that sets off a wildfire in his body; he cannot hold back the heat that builds within him as you guide him to the bed. The intense kisses make his heart race, his breath heavy and frantic. He can't believe this is happening. He cannot believe that you are here with him now. Your kisses make him want you all at once, the desire to give himself to you overwhelming.

You feel the back of your legs hit your bed and you bring your hands to his chest, grasping tightly at the fabric of his robes. You want to touch his bare skin, feel his skin against your palms, against your bare breasts. A desire to simply touch him consumes you.

As your hands grip the fabric of his robes, he cannot hold back a low groan. The sensation of your caress sends chills through his body, igniting a longing within him that he cannot control. He wants to be closer to you, to have you so close that no air exists between your bodies. The rush of your warm breath grazing his neck sends shivers creeping up his spine, all of it making him desire you more than he ever has. His hands move to grasp your hips closely as he keeps kissing you deeply.

You break the kiss and look at him with your cheeks flushed and eyes glazed with a look of palpable lust. “Can you...take your robes off? I want to…feel you.”

Rolan's face flushes, his breath ragged and quick. Your words sounded so innocent but were meant for something much more suggestive. After a long moment, he can only manage to nod as he begins to remove his robes, your eyes glued to every inch of exposed skin he reveals. Once he is completely bare, you can see the scars that cover his entire body. There are some long and deep scars while others are shallow and speckled. He stares back at you, his body pulsing with energy and desire. He wants you more than he's ever wanted anything.

As he stands there in only his breeches and boots you can't help but marvel at his bare torso. You run your fingers across the planes and edges of his chest, feeling the hard points of the ridges his Tielfing body possesses and ghosting over his many scars. His body is fascinating and it entrances you.

Your touch sends shivers all over his body. He moans softly as you caress his bare torso with the tips of your fingers, tracing the ridges like a map of his own flesh. Your fingers are soft and playful, and your touch is hypnotic. He lets out a deep shuddering breath, as every inch of his body responds to you.

Something inside you stirs and you bring your lips to his chest to feel the sharp edges of his Tielfing markings. They're rough and calloused near smooth skin, the texture feels odd against your lips but still pleasant. The sensation of your lips on his Tielfing markings has a strange effect on him. It is as if all of the nerve endings in his body are waking up, coming to life at the touch of your lips. His body shivers and his breathing grows faster as each second passes, his breath heavy with anticipation. He closes his eyes against you, the desire to feel you in every way possible growing even more. He reaches down to pull you in closer so that your bodies are pressed together, your lips grazing his skin like a delicate kiss from flames.

You kiss his chest going lower and lower, down the expanse of his chest and abdomen and you stop briefly as you approach the edge of his breeches before looking up at him in awe. You haven't been intimate with a man in this way yourself, but you have ready many a romance novel and seen plenty of erotic art to know what you could do for him in this position.

The moment of hesitation makes him laugh softly, as he knows exactly what you're thinking. At first, he can only watch as you hover near the edge of his breeches. But he's also incredibly aroused by your boldness and curiosity, knowing how much further you're willing to take this - something that makes his chest flutter and his breath catch in his throat. You are clearly a curious woman who likes to explore things and take things to their limits. You are more than he could have ever imagined, and it makes him want you even more.

You look up at him expectantly as his hands come to graze your cheeks, one of his thumbs rubbing against your bottom lip affectionately. He can only admire how incredible you look kneeling before him, your eyes sparkling with wonder.

The feel of his hands on your cheeks makes your heart race. You stare back into his eyes, seeing the hunger within them. You feel his breath heavy in the air, each second that passes only adding to your excitement. You can tell that he wants you badly, and the fact that he's taking the time to hold you in his gaze and caress your cheek makes you feel incredibly wanted and desired. The rush of emotions from within you feels like fireworks, your heart beating out of your chest with every moment that passes.

“Rolan...can I..?” Your words still in the air, your gaze meeting his.

He stares back at you, his breath shaky as he waits for your words. Your touch has him dizzy and his heart hammering in his chest. Your eyes are bright, your words just out of reach. There's not much thought behind it - he knows very well what you're going to ask. He can't help but nod slightly, his tongue slipping out to lick his lips. He wants this, wants you.

Upon seeing him nod, you carefully unlace his breeches noting his arousal as you do. Your cheeks are alight. This is your first time seeing a man so intimately, the blood beneath your skin heating your body as you knew what you were about to do. Your fingers ply inside the band of his breeches and undergarments and slowly pull them down over his manhood, your breathing is heavy, hot.

The sensation of you pulling down his breeches has a sudden effect on him. His body shudders and his breath catches in his throat as you reveal his shaft to the air around you. Your fingers brushing against his bare skin make him tingle all over, his body aching for your touch. He tries to maintain his composure as your hands work your way down, each passing second only adding to his aroused state.

Cautiously you reach a hand out and give him an experimental grasp and stroke to him. Rolan gasps and bites his bottom lip with a fang in response to your touch. Your hand is so soft against the hardness of his arousal. He wants to thrust his hips against your hand but he stills himself to allow you to explore him. Your experimental grasp sends a jolt through him, your touch the first to ever to do so. It’s cautious, gentle, curious. It’s fascinating his skin is so soft yet so firm beneath your touch as you work your hands up and down his shaft, noting the peculiar ridges upon it.

Slowly your hand works as you bring the other to his thigh to balance yourself. You've never kneeled before a man in any sense before and the sensation it brings you to kneel before him and see him panting and breathless stirs a growing feeling between your thighs.

The sensation of you kneeling before him is a rush it gets his blood pumping and sends sparks all over his body. His breath is still heavy and his eyes are glued to yours, every breath you take sending a jolt of excitement through him. He can't help but shiver slightly, your touch making every inch of his body sensitive and responsive as if sparks danced upon his skin. His heartbeat quickens and his breathing grows faster with every second that passes, every stroke of your hands upon his erect member. You touch him and caress him in a manner that sends shivers down his spine with anticipation and in his mind all he can think is more.

You feel him shiver and it fills you with pride knowing you are the one making him feel like this. You cast your gaze upwards and in a quick movement, take his manhood into your mouth. He cries out and throws his head back as his shaft of his cock caresses your tongue and you hum in satisfaction. The way the ridges of his member caress your tongue as you suck him, lick him, and slide him in and out of your mouth and between your lips is a sensation that makes you want even more of him. Rolan is panting and moaning as your movements grow quicker and you feel his fingertips and claws playing against your scalp, encouraging you to continue your exploration while his tail begins to whip wildly behind him.

The sensation of your lips and tongue caressing him sends a wave of heat from his loins out the rest of his body. He can feel himself beginning to lose control and his pleasure beginning to peak. You're breathing heavy against him and you can feel his hips rocking against your lips and you know he’s most likely close to release.

He stops you with a gentle pat to the head and tap to the cheek, picking up your head up to look at him. His heart nearly stops entirely as he looks at you and sees how erotic you look. Your pupils are blown out, cheeks brightly flushed, lips swollen and plump as a strand of saliva connects your mouth to his most intimate parts. It's so lewd that even he could never have imagined such a sight with you even in the confines of his wet dreams.

A wave of hot embarrassment flashes over him as his heart races at your expression. Your flushed and reddened cheeks send his mind whirling as he takes in this moment. When you look up at him, the moment of pause is overwhelming. Your lips are still wet with saliva from your exploration, the scent of you filling the air and making his head spin all over again with desire. He can't help but reach back into your hair, wanting to maintain this close contact between you two.

“Did I...do something wrong?” You ask, your brows knitted in concern.

He shakes his head slightly, keeping his gaze on your eyes as he moves his fingers through your hair "No, no, quite the opposite." He swallows hard, feeling his face still flush from the moment. "When you..." He sighs, not sure how exactly to describe it, "When you took me into your mouth like that... It was... It was incredible. I almost…came in your mouth." His cheeks redden with his admission.

You blush and look away, not realizing how incredibly lewd you look to him in that moment and how aroused the sight is making him.

The combination of your position and the visual alone is enough to drive him wild. The blush covering your cheeks and the way you look away, not even realizing how beautiful you are in this moment, drives him crazy with desire. He pulls your head back to him and stares you down, his eyes burning with a hunger as he keeps working his fingers through your hair and his voice wavers. "It was the most glorious sight I could've ever imagined, to see you so... open and submissive like that."

Your heart is pounding and your breathing is quick as you stare up at him. He brings his hands to the sides of your face and motions for you to stand before him, allowing him to kiss you once before he gently begins to run his hands over your still-clothed body.

As you rise from your position on your knees, he cannot look away from the sight of your body. Even covered by your clothes, he cannot help but stare at the way it shapes your form. He traces your curves with his fingers, and you can feel the heat emanating from every inch of his hand. Your breath comes quicker and heavier as you feel his hands wandering, exploring you.

A confidence stirs within you seeing him naked before you. You back away from him slowly and begin to unlace your bodice, one strand at a time, letting it fall to the floor before sliding your blouse over your head and tossing it somewhere behind you. Rolan is taking in your every action and sees your shy smile as your hands creep to your chest bindings. With a simple snap, they unravel from your chest, falling to the ground around you. His eyes grow wide in awe.

The sight of you revealing yourself to him sends shockwaves throughout his body. Your skin is pale and smooth, without a hint of blemish. Your breasts are perfect. Your shape is incredible. All the time he's thought about you in this way, all the times he's wondered what you might look like in such a state, all these expectations are blown away by the reality of you in that moment. He swallows hard, his eyes still glued to you as he struggles to contain the heat that is coursing through him. Oh how he wants to touch you, to grasp at the soft curves of your body and claim them as his.

You’re standing before him shyly now unlacing our own breeches and kicking your socks away, shedding the last bit of clothing left upon your body. Rolan can only stare at you jaw slack you stand before him, all of you, naked in the glowing light of the moon and the glow of the candles in your room. You glance away embarrassed at your nakedness and cross your arms in front of your breasts to cover yourself. A heat rushes through you as you realize you’re bare for him to see.

His eyes are wide as he gazes upon you in your naked state. Your body is perfect, and even the slightest movement triggers a response in him. His eyes are glued on you and he cannot help but let out a low growl from the sight of you. The way you cover your breasts triggers something deep inside him, the urge to claim you even more intense now. His breath is heavy and his fingers twitch, wanting desperately to touch you.

Your eyes quickly meet his when you hear the low growl he emits. It makes your skin prickle with gooseflesh and heat pool between your thighs. You're now an arm’s length away from him but you can feel the heat his body is emitting and can see his tail turned up in attention.

He reaches out and grabs your arms, his grip firm and strong as he moves them away from your breasts. He wants to touch you, to have you completely vulnerable and submissive before him. His eyes burn hot as he looks you over, wanting to see you covered in every inch of his affection. He glances down at your body briefly for a moment, eyes burning, before he moves his hands back up. "Look at me, please."

You cast a shy glance to him as you allow him to move your hands from covering your breasts.

The way his eyes are glued to you sends shivers up your spine, your eyes flicking between his gaze and his mouth. You can feel your own breath grow heavier as you notice his eyes moving slowly down your body again. He glances at your lips as he speaks. "It is all so perfect. You are perfect."

“Rolan...”You trail off finally having the confidence to press your naked body to his in an intimate embrace. He's looking down at your form and he wants nothing more than to make you his in that moment. To take your maidenhood and be the first man to claim the affection of the rare and delicate flower that you are.

The way your body presses into his makes his flesh prickle and a wave of heat rush through him. You look so small in his arms, he can't help but wrap them around you and pull you closer. The desire he feels is burning hot, his body shaking slightly. Your body is so soft, so perfect. The way he can feel you heat against him. He stares at you, his eyes burning, his breath still heavy. He wants to claim your body, to make you all his.

You look up at him as you break the embrace and scoot onto the bed behind you, bringing his hand with you and guiding him on top of you.

When you guide him onto the bed, he cannot help but get excited at the way your body is moving his way. He is on top of you with his weight balanced on his arms, hands still cradling you to him while his arms cage you in. The way he is staring at you is making you shiver, and you can feel the way his body is moving against yours. This is an incredibly intimate moment, and he is loving every second of it. You see the look in his eyes, the desire, and the hunger.

As he cages your body in further, you bring your hands up to his hair and loosen it so it falls in a curtain around the both of you. A smile plays on your lips and you give him a soft, chaste kiss, spreading your legs wide enough for him to slot between them. He sees your gaze looking over the planes of his face as you hold it in your hands. “Rolan...I'm ready.”

The way your legs move apart for him sends a jolt through his entire body. Seeing you spread your body and your most delicate parts for him makes his heart hammer in his chest. It's the most beautiful and arousing sight he could've ever imagined. He is breathless with desire, his hands gripping yours tightly as he can feel what has to happen next. "Are you sure?" he hisses, his eyes bright with want.

You nod in response. “Yes, I'm sure. I want you.”

This response sends more heat through him. His eyes burn hot with arousal. He moves slightly closer, his breath still heavy as he gets close to your face. He pauses for a moment, his mouth almost hovering against yours. He can feel himself wanting you even more now. He stares into your eyes and you can see the desire in his. His own cheeks are blushing, his body trembling and hot. The moment between you two is so heavy, so intense, and so erotic. "Are you ready?" he finally asks again.

You nod once more. “Yes…” Your answer is breathless

That sends another shiver through him. His lips part slightly as he moves down and kisses your neck, feeling your lips pouting slightly in response. He moves down further, kissing down your neck, down to your chin, down to your lips. He kisses you deeply, his hands moving down to your sides and tracing your figure. The sensation of your body beneath him is so sensual and exciting. Every inch of your skin and flesh is covered in heat and warmth, and your body is burning in a way he's never felt before. His kisses become harder, more frantic, and more intense.

He's kissing at your breasts and neck, a hand of his wandering to one of your breasts to knead it in his palms and caress at your nipples with his fingers. You whimper and cry out into his touch as he continues to kiss and explore your body. He is consumed, enthralled by the sounds his touch elicits from your kiss-swollen lips.

Each time your body reacts to his touching you, he is overcome with a rush of excitement. Every sound, every whimper, every moan, every movement you make is something that drives him wild. His body is trembling now as he continues to kiss you, his hand caressing your breast, his breath heating the skin beneath his kisses on your naked flesh.

His fingertips wander your body and you feel them making their way down the plane of your belly before sliding between your thighs. You feel his fingers tracing at your most intimate of parts and you can't help but moan into the intense pleasure he's plucking from your body as he traces between your folds gently.

The feeling is overwhelming, you feel as if every bit of your body is singing in pleasure.

“Ah! Rolan!” You yelp as you feel his fingers slowly slide inside of your body and hook against you. He begins slowly pumping in and out of your womanhood, his thumb rubbing at the sensitive bundle of nerves above. You've never felt such pleasure and your breathing is becoming ragged as he continues to tease at your body, the sound of your arousal squelching around his fingers and your pants echoing off the walls.

Rolan is kissing at your neck as he ensures you're properly prepared for the act that is about to come. He begins to feel the ring of muscles of your center tighten and he carefully removes his fingers and gazes at your breathless form lying beneath him.

He cannot help but gaze at you with adoration and desire, his eyes burning hot as you lie beneath him. Your body is writhing with want, your breath coming in quick, and the folds between your thighs are slick with your arousal.

You look at him and plead breathlessly. ”Please...”

His breath seems to catch at the word you use. His eyes become almost predatory as that is all that he needed. Rolan positions his hips to yours and slowly slides himself inside of your body, stretching you around the shaft of his cock. At first it's a searing burn, tight and tense but then gives way to a pleasant sensation of fullness. Rolan stills when he hears you cry out in pain beneath him. He pauses upon hearing your small cry of discomfort, not sure if he should continue. For a moment, he remains still as he looks down at you to gauge your reaction, his eyes searching your face for any sign he should stop.

Your eyes have tears in them but you look up at him to reassure him you're okay. “I'm okay...just adjusting.”

That's all he needs. His body begins to move, his breath heavy and his pace slow at first but gradually gaining speed and rhythm. He slowly thrusts into you and every glide of his body in and against yours makes you arc your back in pleasure. You can feel every inch of his body inside yours, the sensation of his manhood stirring heat between your thighs. Your hands come to wrap around him and grasp at the flesh of his back as he thrusts into you. You can't help but moan as he makes you feel sensations your own fingers have never granted you with every thrust of him into you.

His thrusts, once languid and slow, gradually moving harder and faster against you. Your legs instinctively come up to wrap around his hips and you cry out when he begins to hit a single spot inside your body over and over at this new angle. You know he's losing himself to you as he grunts and growls into sporadic kisses against your lips and neck, his tail thrashing wildly, bed frame rocking into the wall. “Ah oh gods Rolan I can't...it feels so good I'm- ngh!” Your words are broken by the pleasure tightening between your legs.

Rolan is lost to his urges and he begins to growl deeply, his teeth gritted, fangs on display as he ruts into you. His body is hot, flushed, filled with desire to complete you. You can hear his ragged breaths mixed with primal sounds resonating deep in his chest. It's a sound that makes your womanhood throb with want and your body shudder with a deep primal need for more.

You're panting hard and the sensations are too much, you feel the coil inside you tightening quickly ready to snap and you call out to him, your release is closing in. “I-I think I'm going to come! Please don't stop!”

He hears your pleading and continues his pace and suddenly he too feels his own climax rapidly approaching. It's all so much, the heat between your bodies, your sweet cries of pleasure and the wet sounds of skin meeting skin, the desire to fill you with a part of himself. He's holding out until he hears you cry out, your hips suddenly thrashing against him wildly, your hands clawing at his back as your climax rips through your body violently. The sensations and noises you're making have him speed his thrusts up before his hips stutter inside of you and he can feel your orgasm milking him for every ounce of spend he can give. He groans low and bites down on your shoulder as he fills your womb with his seed, slowly rutting himself into you as he comes.

You lie there together, panting in the afterglow of your mutual climaxes.

He continues to lie on top of you, his eyes closed and his breath heavy. He's still inside of you and still shaking slightly, all the heat coming off of his body. He lifts his head away from you, his eyes opening slowly. He gazes into yours, his eyes burning hot as he looks down at you.

You look up at him eyes half-lidded, lips parted in a small smile as your chest heaves.

Rolan leans down and gives you a kiss, his body still trembling slightly. You can feel his heart still thumping in his chest as your mouths meet. His tongue moves to trace at your lips, and his breath is still heavy from the intense pleasure. His kiss is sensual, comforting in the haze of your lovemaking. As he kisses you, he wraps his arms between your body and the bed and brings his tail to wrap around your calf. He's clinging to you intimately and you feel your heart skip a beat.

He pulls you even closer to him, pressing his chest against you, the both of you sticking together slightly as the light sheen of sweat on your skin cools. He’s holding you tightly, his body still trembling, but slowly regaining its composure. You can feel the heat and the pulse coming off of him. Your bodies, your souls are still connected in this moment of deep and genuine intimacy. It's a beautiful thing, and he knows that even from the way you look at him. He presses his body against yours and his tail snakes around your leg, brushing against you softly as he remains inside of you.

He breaks the kiss and asks how you feel, carefully bringing himself to hover slightly above you. You respond with a soft, love-drunk smile. “I feel...like I'm floating.”

He chuckles softly, his tail slowly slipping down your leg further. He nods at your response, his eyes still locked on yours "And I feel like I'm on fire. But in a good way." The warmth of the moment lingers with both of you as you lie there, staring at one another. You can see the desire in his eyes, but his breath is calming now, his body relaxed a bit more.

He notices you grimace briefly and chirp in discomfort. He's still inside of you but the mixture of your arousal and his seed is starting to uncomfortably seep out from you. Rolan notices this too and pulls out gently, trying his best not to make too much of a mess. His breath is still heavy and his face flushed with desire. He lies down next to you in bed as he puts his arm around you, his tail wrapping around you again. He stares at you, his eyes sparkling with a mixture of desire and affection. He's still breathing deeply and his body is still hot from your lovemaking.

You turn towards him and place a hand on his cheek to stroke his face and his claws gently scratch your back. The moment between you is indeed one of pure intimacy, as you lie wrapped in each other's arms, his hand still caressing your face, your nails gently scratching his back. You two share a look, your eyes locking softly as man and woman. The desire between you is still hot and heavy, your bodies still hot and flushed, and the moment fills you both with warmth and happiness.  He can't help but smile softly, his eyes on yours as you look at him. He's still wrapped around you, his arm still snaked about your body and his tail is wrapped around you like a heavy rope tying you together. This moment is so perfect and intimate. He looks so soft and adoring, a hard contrast to his normal grumpy persona everyone else sees. It makes you chuckle and he's curious what has you giggling. He sees you chuckle at him and raises a brow, curious about what is making you laugh so.

“You just are so different right now...everyone thinks you're this grumpy, stoic wizard but not to me.”

As you say this, he can feel himself blush slightly. He shifts a bit in the bed, embarrassed. He feels as if he has just been seen naked, in a way. This is the kind of intimacy that makes him feel extremely vulnerable with you. For a moment, he looks aside in embarrassment but then finally meets your gaze again, smiling softly.

“I quite like this side of you...it's nice.”

His blush deepens at this response. He sighs and looks down, then back up to your eyes with a shy smile. It's rare that someone gets through to him this much, especially with his shell of sarcasm and grumpiness. It's nice to know you enjoy this side of him.

You snuggle closer to him and he wraps his arms around you and kisses the top of your head.

He can feel his heart racing at these moments of intimacy and affection. The warmth of you being in his arms is one of the most calming things he has ever experienced. He presses himself into you and you can feel the heat coming off his body, he's definitely still flushed from what happened between you two. He kisses your head and wraps his arms around you tightly, holding you close to him.

“Rolan...thank you.”

Your simple words cause him to blush deeply, his cheeks feeling like they're on fire. He smiles slightly and pulls you in a little bit closer to him, his body still feeling a bit warm from the intimacy between you both. He closes his eyes as he pulls you against him and speaks softly, his breath a little shaky. “No... I should thank you for tonight. It was... something I needed.”

“Something you needed?” You picked your head up to look at him curiously.

He sighs softly, his hand stroking your hair. You look soft and beautiful in his arms, a very comforting contrast to his rough and gruff exterior. “You know, I haven't... let anyone in like this. No one... not in a long time.”

You smile and nuzzle close before speaking. “Then I'm glad you were my first.”

Your words almost catch him off guard with their intimacy. He chuckles softly and his body is still trembling slightly, the arousal still lingering from between you both. He kisses your back gently and holds you closer to him for a moment longer.

“I was nervous...that I wouldn't be good enough for you since I was a you know...virgin. In truth you have a lot of my firsts now…” Your face turns read once more as your words trail off.

A smile spreads across his face when you admit this, his eyes beaming at you with affection. His hand runs lightly across your back and he nods in agreement with you. The idea of being your first means a lot to him not simply because he was your first intimate experience but because you trusted him enough to choose him.

“I'm glad it was with you. Perhaps I sound silly but ever since we met...I wanted it to be you.”

Your words are like music to his ears. Hearing this brings him another smile, one that is soft and heartwarming. He continues to caress your back softly, his heart swelling with emotions.

You sigh softly. “In truth I'm not sure where we go from here....we are both adults and I know you've got your own goings on. If tonight is all I get with you then... I am happy. You fulfilled a wish of mine and for that I can't ask for more. If that is the case I do think I'd be sad I ruined out friendship by being selfish...”

Your words make his heart sink, his breath catching in his chest as he hears you say this. He realizes that, in the heat of the moment, you may have gotten the wrong impression. He shifts his body a bit, moving onto his side so that he's now facing you fully. He speaks in a calm and soothing voice, one that has no edge of sarcasm or anger to it at all. He speaks to you with all honesty. “I... I want you. To keep seeing you. I... do not want it to end like this.”

Your eyes snap to his.

Your heart stops and your eyes widen.

“You want...to keep seeing me? Truly?” Your eyes are watering and it feels like your words are caught in your throat.

He raises a hand to brush the hair out of your face and his eyes are a mix of passion and intensity, but also affection.

“Truly.” It's an honest and solemn answer. He brings a hand to your cheek, and his eyes still hold the same fire and adoration. He nods at you a few times as he continues to hold you tightly, his words still being honest and genuine.

“As in...to court and be a...couple?” the words leave your mouth uncertain.

He smiles softly and his cheeks are burning up. He nods his head frantically a couple more times. This feels real, like he's finally let himself be vulnerable with you in these moments after he closed himself off for so long. You spring into his chest and he feels you start to cry as you bury yourself into him,

Your tears are the last thing he expected, but the instant he feels your body shaking and trembling his arms are wrapped tightly around you, holding you close to him. He rubs your back gently as you cry, his hand a soft and calming sensation compared to his usual stoic and prickly exterior.

You mumble softly, “Thank you.”

He rubs your back gently and holds you closely, his heart filled with a warmth he has never felt before. It feels so good to be this close to you, a woman he can be honest and open with instead of using sarcasm and grouchy behavior to keep people away. He lets you cry into him, he doesn't mind the tears and the only thing he wants to do right now is hold you.

Your tears dry and you bring your face to his and he sees how wonderful you are and how much you truly care. “I was so worried that tonight was going to be it for us I just...I am so happy right now.”

He smiles softly and wipes a tear from your cheek with his thumb. The idea that you thought tonight could be the last time you see him breaks his heart. You see his expression, his eyes shining with a hint of tears. How could he let you feel this way? He pulls you in a bit closer to him and holds you tightly.

“I'm sorry for crying,” You wipe your tears away,“I just...feel overwhelmed. Good things don't happen to me often.”

He shakes his head and caresses your face. You see that he is still a bit emotional, that this whole experience means a lot to him. He is used to keeping people at a distance. And you're right there in his arms, crying, vulnerable, but he feels no desire to pull away. No sarcasm, no anger, just the desire to caress the woman standing before him now. He leans forward and kisses you gently, and then he holds you tightly again, not allowing a single inch between you two.

You feel him wordlessly comforting you as you curl in on him and fall asleep in his arms. The silence doesn't feel awkward or uncomfortable. The two of you are in each other's arms and have just made love. It's a beautiful thing, this intimacy. You begin to feel yourself drifting off to a comfortable sleep, the feeling of his body still pressing against yours keeps you secure and safe. You can't sleep any better than this, knowing you have his strong and protective arm protecting you. You fall asleep, your heart still beating with joy from this evening knowing that your first would not be your last.

[lavenderfluorite14]

A Taste of Plums | Astarion x Female!Tav

Chapter 4: Confession

Summary: Another companion makes a bid for Tav’s heart. Astarion wrestles with what that means.

Chapter Warnings: Canon compliant fantasy racism. See A03 for Full Tag List.

1. 2. 3.

@ambi-chann

In the end, Lae’Zel wins. Her argument is indisputable. They could ceremorphosize at any moment and every minute they waste traipsing around the forest is another nail in all their coffins. Tav begrudgingly relents, motioning for Astarion to come with them. Lae’Zel drags their group back to the Emerald Grove in tense silence. 

“So, you know a lot about these parasites? Will we survive them?” Astarion asks hopefully, trying to break the tension. 

“Only if my people extract them. The only other cure is the blade,” Lae’Zel replies tersely, offering no further explanations. 

“Wonderful,” Astarion blanches. 

“So how do they extract them?” Tav presses further. 

“They will do so with a zaith’isk. By covenant I can say no more,” Lae’Zel snaps. They descend back into uncomfortable silence. Lae’Zel has such a way with words. 

But there had to be another way. Ceremorphosis should have begun days ago and yet here they are, completely untentacled. There must be something special about their tadpoles, Astarion can feel it. And if they are special, then maybe there is a way to control them and stop the transformation altogether. Asatrion could be free, for good. 

Free for good. He doesn’t care how it happens. He would take any help he could get, even from mindflayers. The proximity of true freedom spurs him fiercely onward, even as a second death looms. 

Lae’Zel hunts Zorru down with meticulous precision. Although, he really wasn’t that difficult to find. Most people eye them with polite curiosity as they pass, but the tiefling called Zorru immediately begins cowering at the sight of Lae’Zel.

“By Mordai’s Eyes, another one? My friend’s blood not enough?” Zorru accuses. “Come to rip me open too?”

Lae’Zel crosses her arms, looking down her stubbed nose at him. “In Crèche K’liir, a formal greeting begins with a bow,” she says. It’s not a suggestion. Astarion feels a thrill of excitement ripple through him. How promising. 

Zorru rounds on Astarion and Tav. “Is this monster with you?” He demands. 

Tav crosses her arms too, moving to stand by Lae’Zel. “Yes. And I suggest you do what she says,” she warns sternly. Well, well, this was certainly another side of Tav. And not an unwelcome one, he thinks. Astarion crosses his arms as well, scornfully staring down Zorru. Zorru balks, waffling lamely. When neither Tav nor Astarion move, he folds at the waist, inclining his head in a bow.

“Lower,” Lae’Zel commands imperiously. Zorru looks to them for help, dark eyes wide and begging. 

“She’s serious. You’d better get on your knees. Fast,” Tav warns again. Zorru hesitates, then sinks to the ground, his face reddening with shame. Astarion thrums with glee. He had suffered similar humiliations at Cazador’s hand for centuries. How fun to be the one commanding and not the one kneeling. Ah, how the other half lived.

Lae’Zel unfortunately concludes her business swiftly and with frustrating efficiency. She shoves their map in Zorru’s face and he marks a point in the west corner where Lae’Zel’s comrade, Kin, had slain his friend. With no more use for him, Lae’Zel orders Zorru to stand, announcing loudly that he may keep his innards. 

“You’re not going to eviscerate him? I was hoping for a show,” Astarion pouts.

“Cool your blood. I’ll indulge you soon enough,” Lae’Zel promises. Astarion grins. He certainly hopes so. He should adventure with Lae’Zel more often. Tav unfolds her arms, exhaling audibly through her nose. 

“Well…..you are quite the interrogator,” Tav finally grimaces. “We may have to use those skills again.” Astarion notes that she doesn’t seem pleased at the idea, which is a shame. Lae’Zel still preens. 

“A shell so thin it was easy to crack it. The teef-ling was clear-“

“Hold on, did you say teef-ling?” Tav smiles, despite herself.

Lae’Zel pauses, confused. Astarion could swear that she was blushing. “I am unfamiliar with the, well I shall not say culture. Custom, perhaps. You shall educate me on matters of this Fay Run,” Lae’Zel orders, confident again. Tav chuckles, sighing. 

“Well then, your lessons begin immediately. It’s Faerûn.” Lae’Zel chks quietly, pushing past them towards the exit. Tav catches Astarion’s eye and they both burst into a fit of quiet laughter. Tav quickly trots back up alongside her, Astarion in tow.  

“So, Lae’Zel. What would you like to know about Faerûn?” She asks. “I’d be happy to-“

“I have a confession,” Lae’Zel interrupts, suddenly halting. She stops at the upper entrance of the grove where the land levels out into pleasant greenery. She turns squarely towards Tav, who freezes on the spot. Astarion slows to a stop a few paces away. He has to hear this. 

“I was too hasty to judge you. I thought you witless, gutless, unimpressively bland,” Lae’Zel begins. Tav frowns, her brows knitting together in confusion, and Astarion quickly presses a hand to his mouth to stifle more giggling. “But now you have earned my respect, and more still.” Lae’Zel takes a step towards Tav, who takes a step backwards. “My yearning,” Lae’Zel confesses. She continues advancing. “You’ve proven your wits.” Lae’Zel takes a step, Tav takes a step. “You are efficient and dominant in and out of battle.” Lae’Zel takes a step, Tav takes a step. “You’ve proven your courage. I swear you would tear the horns off of one dragon for plunging into another.” By now Lae’Zel has backed Tav against the rock face of the grove. “And you are hardly bland. Your scent alone is enough to make my neck sweat and my hairs stand on end.” Lae’Zel murmurs softly, placing an armored hand against the cliff, much too close to Tav’s face. Astarion isn’t laughing anymore. 

“Hold on, are you coming on to me?” Tav asks.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Lae’Zel mocks. “I want to taste you. Perhaps tonight. Perhaps later. But I want it all the same.” Her voice is a warm, sultry rumble as she leans in closely. “Do you?” Lae’Zel’s golden eyes gleam with carefully controlled lust. Tav’s eyes flick over to Astarion, who has schooled his face into careful neutrality.

“I’m deeply flattered, Lae’Zel,” Tav says carefully, “but I’m not sure.” Lae’Zel withdraws. Something like relief fills him. 

“You’re not sure?” Lae’Zel jeers. “Well then. Your loss, I fear,” she says breezily, righting herself. “One day soon you will wonder how my lips might have tasted, how my fingers on your skin might have felt. And you will wish you could return to this lost moment.“ As she turns away, she boldly looks Astarion up and down. She quirks an eyebrow at him, as if in challenge. Astarion quirks an eyebrow back. 

“We must find this crèche. Only there can we be purified. And only then will this be over.” She strides forward purposefully, leaving Astarion and Tav to trail behind her. Astarion curiously watches Tav out of the corner of his eye but she pointedly ignores him, staring ahead as they pass beneath the heavy stone gate of the Emerald Grove.  

~

They swing by camp to grab Gale, then spend the rest of the day fruitlessly scouting. The roads beyond are swamped by knolls and goblins, making peaceful passage impossible. They will have to fight their way through no matter what they choose. Which is good, because Astarion will need to stab something soon. 

He had been so absorbed in his own plan that he had not considered whether any of his companions might also have designs on Tav. Obviously they would, look at her. She was witty and cute, she defended her comrades, she was a fierce fighter. She was bound to be someone’s type. He had the advantage of course, he was the most attractive one in camp. He assumed. And Lae’Zel had still tried to claim Tav as her trophy. 

He hadn’t thought that Lae’Zel of all people would approach Tav. So far she had been utterly single-minded in her pursuit of other Githyanki and deeply disdainful of any unrelated suggestion. It’s not that he didn’t like Lae’Zel, quite the opposite in fact. She was strong, fierce, capable. Ready to kill at a moments notice, no questions asked. He respected her, which was a strange feeling. He was also afraid of her, which probably had a lot to do with it. Astarion should really sleep with both of them. Then, he could have two allies instead of one. 

He imagined Lae’Zel would be as indomitable in bed as she was out of it. She would probably be rough, bruising. That could be fun on the right night. But Astarion suspected that Lae’Zel would abandon their camp and rejoin her people as soon as they found her crèche. He doubted Lae’Zel could or would protect him from the Astral Plane, which defeated the purpose of sleeping with her. 

And what would Tav think? Would this liaison alienate his best and only ally? Would Tav be hurt if he slept with Lae’Zel, or would she just move on to the next warm body, so to speak? Tav obviously wanted him. What he didn’t know was whether or not Tav wanted only him. Who was his competition and how worried should he be?

For a moment Astarion considers whether or not he is out of his depth. This would have never happened at Cazador’s palace. They had never interfered with each other’s hunts, there was no need to. Why compete for one specific prey, who you would never have anyway, when there were ten more around the corner? He eventually dismissed this ridiculous idea. He’d been toying with and breaking hearts for centuries. He knew how to play this game. Just nights ago Tav had been grinding in his lap begging for more. He was the one on the right trajectory. A trajectory he had interrupted, he thought angrily. He had completely forgotten that there were five other people competing for her attention and every moment that he spent twiddling his thumbs was a moment when someone else could swoop in and steal his prize.

He didn’t know what he would do if that happened. He supposed he would suggest a threesome. He could easily enthrall them both with a range of sexual delights. And if that was not enough? Astarion didn’t want to think about it. He would just have to be the most beautiful. The best in bed. Once Tav got a real taste of him she wouldn’t want anything else. 

~

Astarion was growing hungry. He debated leaving camp to hunt down some juicy, woodland thing, but he still held on to the hope that Tav would come to him tonight. He was slowly tasting more and more creatures and while each held their own particular appeal, Tav still remained his favorite. 

He wondered if there was actually something special about her blood or if it was purely sentimental. She was his first. She was willing. Had he known she would be so amenable he would have approached their first time completely differently.

He wanted to scoff at the idea of “their first time.” It made him sound practically virginal, a truly hilarious joke. And yet, it was true. She was the first thinking creature he had ever drunk from. Not a rotting carcass nor an animal he had hunted and killed. A living being who had offered herself to him. Who continued to offer herself to him. It made him feel good, powerful. Warm.

As if summoned by his thoughts, Tav rounded the corner and approached his tent, raising a hand in greeting. Perhaps she really had been summoned by his thoughts. Sometimes his tadpole squirmed in a way that made him curious about all its ignored potential. 

“There you are! I was just thinking about you,” Astarion called lightly. Tav raised a teasing eyebrow.

“Oh? Only good things I hope?”

“Naturally, darling.” He leaned in conspiratorially. “I was just remembering that delicious moment we shared the other night.” Tav snorted.

“The one where you bit me? Which time?” She shot back, not unkindly.

“The first time, actually.” He’s glad she’s here. He’s glad she makes time for him, even though there are five others she could seek out instead. “I’ve had this condition for two centuries but, truth be told-,” he pauses briefly. Telling her felt right. “You were my first,” he confesses softly. 

Tav blinks at him. “You’ve really only ever-“

“In all these years I’ve only fed on beasts. Drinking the blood of thinking creatures is another thing entirely.” He remembers how their minds connected that night. He knows she knows. 

“How different is it?” She asks quietly, her expression softening.

Astarion sighs. “Like night and day. Like nothing I had ever tasted before or since.” He holds her gaze. “You were positively delectable.” A small smile plays upon Tav’s lush lips. He hungers for her even now, the sweet thing. She has created a monster. He’s had a taste of good blood and now he’ll never have enough of it. “And now I can’t help but wonder how the others taste,” he admits. His eyes flick around their camp, watching the others’ unsuspecting movements.   Tav shifts uncomfortably. “I don’t know if they’d be as open to the idea as I was,” she reminds him.

“Oh, I don’t think they’d volunteer, of course. But it doesn’t make me any less curious,” He glances back towards Tav, who has crossed her arms over her chest. Her face creases in a frown. “Take Gale, for example,” he continues, in spite of her. “His blood strikes me as rich, refined, like a well aged brandy.” He can’t help but salivate, just a little. A glass of Gale must be so satisfying after a long day. Tav’s gaze drifts over to Gale, who is reading a book in his tent. She chews her lip. 

“I could see him as a smooth whiskey. Something classy and expensive,” Tav agrees, playing along. 

“But the gith? What in the hells would she taste like?” He says it casually, but he watches her closely for her answer. 

Tav cocks her head, her eyes far away as she imagines it. “Something unique, for sure. Some kind of liqueur that you have to sip,” she suggests. 

“Ooh, that sounds very appealing. Perhaps a cordial of some kind.”

“I could see that,” Tav says, They both angle slightly towards Lae’Zel, watching her as she sharpens her sword. “Definitely something strong, that’s for sure.”

“And what about Shadowheart?” Astarion prompts. They watch silently as Shadowheart meditates peacefully in front of her tent, her eyes closed to the world.

“Something that really packs a punch, but not right away. Something that sneaks up on you.” Tav is silent for a moment. “An absinthe?” She offers. It’s Astarion’s turn to snort.

“There’s nothing subtle about absinthe, darling. But yes, something with an intense flavor.” He points to Karlach. “Do you think dear Karlach is spicy?”

“No, she’s a beer,” Tav says decisively. 

“Ugh, no. Karlach does not taste like foamy piss,” Astarion grimaces. 

“Don’t be gross!” Tav exclaims, elbowing him.

“It’s just the truth, darling. I think she’d have a peppery finish.”

“I disagree, Karlach has a sweetness about her,” Tav continues.

“Well beer is not sweet,” he says haughtily. Tav elbows him again, but there’s no real bite behind the jab. He nudges her back, just a little.

“Wyll is definitely fresh and crisp,” Tav says, completely ignoring his comment. 

“Like a cider. Far too much sugar for me,”

Tav eyes him. “Thought about that one, have you?” She says. 

"I’ve thought about many things,” Astarion counters. “We have a very enticing group on our hands.” He stares at her, eagerly.

“We certainly are an attractive bunch,” she agrees, her tone even. She’s crossed her arms again. Good. Let her wonder what he means by this exchange. He hopes by now the possibilities have made her well and fully jealous.

“So, if you had to take a bite out of one of them, who would it be?” He asks. Tav bites her lip again, scanning the camp. She considers the question for far too long in Astarion’s opinion.

“Honestly, I’d be curious to see what vampiric blood tastes like,” Tav slowly admits. Her eyes meet his, boldly. Astarion can’t help but beam. Got her. 

“Darling, I’m flattered,” he teases. “Who knew you had such taste?”

“Has it gone sour and necrotic? There’s only one way to know,” she parries back. 

“Indeed. Well, all this talk has made me hungry,” he pointedly looks at Tav. “I’d better find something I can actually sink my teeth into,” he prompts.

“Good hunting, then,” she says, almost airily. It’s not the invitation he had wanted.

“And how will you spend your night?” He asks. Only the barest hint of distress graces his words. “Will you take our gith friend up on her delightful offer?”  He tries to wrap the words in velvet, tries to make it seem enticing so Tav will tell him her thoughts plainly now. Instead, she looks away.

“Ah, no. At least, not tonight.” Tav says, embarrassed. “I just need time to myself. To think about everything that’s happened.” She can’t meet his eyes. 

Tav is slipping away from him. He could double down, pursue her desperately. He bristles at the idea, despite the needy flame that has ignited inside him. Never again. He would never beg again. It had always been more effective to get them to chase him anyway. He still had many cards to play. He could wait.

“Well, don’t think too hard, darling. Your second thoughts always spoil the fun,” he says silkily. Tav laughs. 

“Sweet dreams, Astarion.”

“Sweet dreams,” he says smoothly from behind lowered lashes. Tav retreats to her tent and Astarion slips off into the night, needing to kill.

~

Astarion returns in the early hours of the morning, long after anyone reasonable has gone to sleep. Yet there’s someone still awake, warming themselves by the fire with a goblet of wine. When she senses Astarion’s return, Shadowheart turns and approaches his tent. 

“Find anything out there as tasty as our mutual friend?” She asks.

Astarion smiles perfunctorily. “Nothing out here, no.”

“Do you speak Elvish?” She asks.

“Obviously,” he replies, perking up. Centuries of torment had taken many of his early memories, but Astarion would always remember his first language.

“So what really happened this morning?” Shadowheart asks as she settles down before his tent.

“As Tav said, the tiefling gave us the location to the crèche. Whatever else could you mean?” Astarion replies, sitting beside her. 

“Don’t play coy. You, Tav, and Lae’Zel all leave on some Githyanki errand, then when you return not an hour later, Lae’Zel is frowning despite the good news and Tav looks like her heart is going to explode. Then she grabs Gale for a scouting mission and you spend the rest of the day brooding by yourself.” She swirls her wine as she watches him. “So. What really happened?” Astarion swipes her goblet and takes a long sip. Wine still tastes sour, but the buzz is undeniable.

“Lae’Zel made a pass at Tav,” he confesses.

Shadowheart gasps. “Really? What did Tav say?”

“She let her down gently. She said ‘I don’t know,’” Astarion enunciates Tav’s words bitterly.

“Oh, don’t do it, Tav. Can you imagine, with a Githyanki?” Shadowheart groans into her drink.

“I’m sure you’ve never thought about that before,” Astarion quips. Shadowheart shoots him a stunned glare, a beautiful flush rising along her neck.

“Well, that explains your bad mood,” she retorts.

“Excuse me?”

“Please Astarion, you’re about as subtle as a peacock,” she says. “I don’t know what is going on between you and Tav but if you like her you should just say so.”

“That’s rich coming from a Sharran,” Astarion lashes back.

“Look, I’m trying to help you.”

“I don’t need seduction tips from a cloistered nun, my dear.” Astarion’s tone is clipped and biting. 

“You’ve clearly never been to a Sharran cloister, then.” Shadowheart rises. “Fine, your feelings are your own. But don’t string Tav along too far. For some reason she actually cares for you,” Shadowheart lowers her voice unnecessarily. They are the only ones awake who can understand Elvish. “Even if she didn’t invite you to her tent tonight.”

“Goodnight, Shadowheart. A pleasure, as always.” He dismisses her in Common, rising to his feet as well.

“Goodnight, Astarion. Sweet dreams,” she calls as she walks away, a saucy echo of his earlier conversation with Tav. Astarion slinks into his tent, tying the laces of the flap tighter than he strictly needed to.

~

Tell Tav how he feels? What was there to say? “Please help me, I’m so desperate and pathetic, you can have any part of me you want!” Or perhaps, “Despite knowing what I am, you are still so incomprehensibly kind to me that it makes me ache?” Now that was unattractive. This was not some schoolyard crush. Shadowheart would never understand.

Assuming he isn’t banished from the group, he knows he won’t immediately die if Tav chooses someone else over him. If he’s really honest, his plan doesn’t even hinge on being exclusive with her. She just needs to like him enough to keep him around, which he can earn by fulfilling any and every fantasy she has about him. It doesn’t need to be more than that. She could still fall in love with someone else afterwards. Or before. Astarion isn’t picky.

But it would still be a very long adventure if he had to hear her flirting with someone else, see her kissing someone else, know she was fucking someone else. He had experienced many, many tortures throughout the years but that would be a brand new kind of punishment. 

~

Chapter 5: Doubt

[flamemittens]

maybe for morgayne and gortash?

Flower Language prompts from here!

Gortash x F!Durge. 1.3k words. *Act 3 spoilers*.

*Now extended and on AO3*

Black-eyed Susan - "Revenge tastes sweet, and so are you."

The first time she meets with him is shortly after the coronation ceremony.

Her companions do not want her to go alone, but Morgayne insists. It is better this way. There is an inexorable pull towards the man that she finds she cannot ignore, and he seems to have at least some of the answers she seeks—if he is telling the truth. They have heard the rumours—from whispers that coil in dark corners, to braver shouts that ring off the buildings and cobblestoned streets—all over parts of the city and its outskirts; in his rise from upstart lordling to city ruler and protector, he has used everything and everyone—whether at his disposal or not—to ascend.

She finds him upstairs in his office, as promised.

He assures her that their plans can still be brought to fruition. He confidently directs, explains to her what they should do, and Gods, that evasive something in her wants to listen. It is all so frustratingly, distantly recognizable. Hypnotic, in a way.

There must be more to it, she thinks. To them. She recalls the torn page she found in the Moonrise mindflayer colony, and its frenetic, tormented penmanship.

“Lord Gortash. Who were we to each other? Really?”

He seems to wince, for some reason, at her use of his title. After a brief silence, he finally offers his answer.

“I meant what I said in the audience hall. You can use that as a reference if you wish.”

Morgayne frowns. “As strange as it may seem, that does not make things much clearer. I only have more questions.”

“Well then. Allow me to fill in some more of the specifics for you, in a way that leaves no room for interpretation.”

“Please do.”

“Have a seat, then.” He sees her hesitate, and adds, in a strangely gentler tone, “I insist.”

They talk for an hour before she takes her leave.

--

She returns to him again a day or two later. She doesn’t really know what draws her there; perhaps it is this nostalgic, tenuous thread of intimacy and trust that she cannot yet determine the root of.

They talk further.

“How are your memories?” he asks, after a while.

Morgayne sighs. “It’s like trying to complete a puzzle but all the pieces are broken, scattered, and some will forever be missing. However, some things are coming back to me, I think. Slowly.”

Something like delight flares in his dark eyes. Something like hope.

She stays for longer this time.

“How was your Archduke, darling?” Astarion asks later as he sidles up to her on her return to the Elfsong, amusement plain on his beautiful features.

“He is not my Archduke” she counters flatly, feeling none of the conviction she tries so hard to imbue the words with.

--

“I heard you went to the Hells today” Gortash begins the next time she visits him. “You’ve been busy, my dear.”

“Yes” she confirms.

She tells him about it all, of Helsik, of Hope, of Nubaldin. Of what the self-important rock gnome revealed before she was compelled to sear the flesh from his bones, to burn away his smug grin—but not how she later felt she had been told part of the story before. That she keeps to herself for now. She speaks of the Master of the House, and how she robbed him blind.

Any other eyes on the scene would think he is not reacting, but she sees something subtle in the set of his jaw, the rise of his shoulders, the pitch of his eyes. How one clawed gauntlet grips the edge of the table, pressing marks into the oak, how the knuckles on his other tightly fisted hand are turning white. How he won’t even look at her, his gaze fixed on the floor as she talks.

“Raphael is dead” she finishes.

His eyes flick to hers eventually, the tension bleeding out of him faster than it bloomed.

“It’s…curious, isn’t it” he muses.

She doesn’t need to ask what he means.

--

As per their agreement, she goes to him after her duel with Orin.

She tells him what happened, down there in the dark. How she defied her father. How she lay there, drained and dead on the cold, bloodstained stone. How she came to be here now, telling him about it all.

“You have our—your revenge, then. And your freedom.”

She takes a mouthful of the Marsember Blush, lets it linger on her tongue before swallowing. It’s a balmy evening, and the wine is as refreshing as it is spicy.

“Yes. It would seem I do.”

He studies her with an almost unnerving intensity over the rim of his glass.

“I always knew, Mori.” is all he says.

That’s the name engraved on the inside of the ring she wears on her right hand, she thinks.

Her Archduke looks tired tonight.

--

The letter arrives the next afternoon, precisely crafted if a little concise, and mildly fragranced like his coronation invitation. She takes it to a quiet corner to read, drinking in its scent. His scent. It is one line, with an Upper City address at the bottom.

M Come to this address tonight. I can promise you it will be worth your while.” E

Later, she slips away from the others, but is intercepted by Jaheira on the landing outside their rooms. The older half-elf appears concerned. She can’t say it isn’t justified.

“I feel we are losing you.”

“Interesting that you should say that. I feel I am finding myself.” She packs as much of an apology as she can into her smile.

Jaheira looks as if she understands somehow. “Be careful, cub” she says, after a beat.

A short time later, Morgayne reaches the building in question. It’s a sprawling, well-appointed manor like many of those in the Upper City. She glances down one side of the building, spotting a tall trellis thick with ivy that scales up to a balcony. A fragment comes back to her then—heavy rain, gloved fingers slipping on the wood before finally reaching stone.

On entering, she is welcomed and led upstairs; she notices the guards, yes, but also the minimal staff, the thin coat of dust over almost everything—he does not come here much anymore, she recognises.

She is ushered into what she is informed are his personal chambers.

Gortash—Enver—sits at a desk, nearby a large chaise that faces an unlit fireplace. Multiple pages of what looks to be Steel Watcher schematics are spread over its surface. A decanter and tumbler, both half-filled with amber liquid, sit at his elbow. He is casually dressed, save for his golden gauntlets.

“Ah, there you are. You found your way here, at last.”

He rises as she approaches, walking around to stand in front of her.

She sees it all then, plain on his face. Relief. Pride. Desire.

He leans in with a confidence, a lover’s closeness that she supposes he has already earned, long ago. Something clicks into place as she smells the whisky on him—it’s less a moment of realization and more of a punch to the chest that steals her breath away—it speaks of the past, of hushed conversations and affection and trust.

The air seems to become warmer, thicker with every passing moment. He’s orchestrated all of this, she knows now. A tableau of echoes just for her.

She believes it all, feels the truth in it.

He kisses her then, and she kisses him back. It’s clumsy at first, like a musician trying to recall a once beloved tune, but she falls into the familiar rhythm soon enough. He trails his mouth along her jawline and pulls her flush against him, as one hand slides round the back of her neck and up into the base of her braid—the cool metal against her warm skin is…grounding.

“Stay here” he murmurs into her ear. “Where you belong. Don’t go back to them.”

And Gods help her, she stays.

[alpydk]

Red on You (In a Heartbeat)

Part 2 - GalexRugan

Ao3 Link

“Now darling, don’t be annoyed at Rugan. He was merely suggesting that we get out of your hair, not that we go drinking.”

Gale tried not to be angry at what he was hearing, that another night would be spent sat up waiting for the door to be pushed aside and the protective spell to be inevitably tripped. Astarion had once again dropped by to the tower unexpectedly, not to see his long-time friend but to spend time cavorting the city most likely in search of a good brothel with Rugan. Gale knew he deserved better than this, and he glowered as the two of them laughed and traded their stories of crime and deceit.

Rugan lifted his glass, tilting it in Astarion’s direction. “You ever meet that sweet lass who worked in the Elfsong? Halfling bird, she could do that thing where she bent her leg up around her-”

“Gabby, Gabriella… Oh, what was it? I know who you mean. With the cherries.”

“Yes! That’s the chickadee. Gloria?”

Astarion concentrated, his pale brow furrowed. “No, it wasn’t Gloria…” Two hundred years of skulking Baldur’s Gate. He couldn’t be expected to remember the name of every barmaid.

“Isabella.” Gale interjected, wanting the topic to move on.

Rugan looked up with a grin on his weathered face. “Isabella. Gods, she was a pretty sight. Surprised you knew her name, though.”

“Oh, Gale here has always been quite the charmer. Isn’t that right, love?”

“Learning a person’s name is the least one can do,” Gale answered, scowling at them both as they smirked, their minds clearly trawling the gutters they would soon find themselves in.

Taking a sip from his drink, Astarion reminisced over the young barmaid. “I do wonder whatever happened to her. Not seen her in…well, an age.”

“Shacked up with someone, probably. You know how it goes, spread their legs, a couple of kids, no more cherries,” Rugan replied with a devilish look in his eyes.

“She died and became a mindflayer, like so many other tragic victims of the city, lest you forget.” With his response, Gale let the silence settle over them, watching as the uncouth banter of the evening became a quiet moment of guilt shared between them all.

Lifting his glass, Rugan spoke. “Well, to Isabella then and whatever bar she may be tending.”

Astarion mumbled in agreement, bringing his glass to his lips. He glanced over the rim, noting the uncomfortable silence that lay in the air, the tension between the two lovers growing with each second. Taking the break in the conversation as an opportunity to escape, he turned to Rugan. “Maybe it’s time we…”

“Yeah, we probably should.”

Gale sighed as they both placed their glasses down to leave him, the awkward shuffle as they acknowledged his gaze upon them, making everything more difficult to handle. Tonight would be the last night he would allow this to happen. He would leave the tower himself, clear his mind and come morning would face the harsh reality that his relationship was over. He took Rugan’s hand as it swept by him, a moment of unspoken contact as if to say, “Don’t do this.”

Rugan leant down, placing a gentle kiss on Gale’s brow. “Love you, poppet. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

The hand was pulled away and Gale once again found himself alone in the dim light of his tower, his heart breaking and his anger rising.

---

The smell had only been the start of what the young priestess had discovered as the gnome had removed his clothes, his skin blistering and, in some places, literally rotten to the bone. To say he was alive would have been a matter of opinion and he spoke in a matter of grunts and groans, constantly reaching for her wrists as she examined his wounds. Her healing spells were met with no change, almost angering the flesh they met and causing him further pain, and she worried that maybe a powerful curse had befallen the poor victim.

She placed a gentle hand on Tibs’ shoulder, moving quickly away as his head twisted sharply towards it. “I’ll get the high priest; you just wait here.”

Scurrying through the temple, her white robes flowing behind her, she could feel her anxiety rising. There was something about this situation that set her on edge. She knew she was relatively new to her calling, but she’d had experience with the sick and dying before in her short twenty-year life, and so this one person shouldn't have shaken her as it seemed to have. Multiple rooms were checked in search of the high priest before she eventually came across him knelt deep in prayer under the moonlight within the temple’s courtyard.

“Andora, my dear. Sneaking up on an old man?”

He glanced over at her slight figure, admiring the way the robes had been pinched to her waist. Classically pretty were the words he would have chosen if he had to describe her to fellow priests. Blonde, fair skinned, large doe-like eyes that shone with innocence. Exactly his type.

His voice was calming and with it brought a relaxation to the young priestess’ shoulders. She took a moment to let her heart rate slow, not wanting to be seen as inept before her superior. Word around the church was that the Half-Elven leader had been in his position for many years, offering counsel to those in need, speaking for Ilmater himself, supporting the newer priestesses in their times of need, and that was exactly what she needed.

“Father. I’m so sorry to disturb your prayer, but there’s a matter I require your assistance with. A man has come in from the streets. He does not speak, but it is clear he is incredibly sick.”

The high priest stood, patting down his cream robes, and approached her, linking a withered arm around hers. “Calm, take a moment of silence to find your inner peace.”

Andora nodded; a deep breath pulled into her lungs at his command. She closed her eyes briefly, failing to notice the way his eyes drifted to the rise and fall of her breasts.

“Now, a sick follower, you say?”

“I’m unsure if he is a follower, father. But yes, sick. Incredibly sick. I have tried the basic healing spells and prayers at my command, but they have done little to lift his affliction.”

“Hm.” Stroking her arm in thought, his mind drifted between the matter at hand and the warmth of her skin that lay beneath her robes. “And what of potions and elixirs?”

“Nothing aside from what appeared to be a fire beneath his skin.”

“That is quite the conundrum, then. Take me to him, my dear.”

The stroking on her arm continued as they meandered through the corridors of the temple, her anxiety again rising, but this time not at what they would encounter but at the way the priest observed her and questioned her.

“Twenty? A fine age. Quite fine.” The words lingered on his tongue a little too long to be merely a passing comment. “I remember when I was but twenty. So young and naïve in the world. Do know that you can turn to me, Andora. For anything you might need.”

“Yes, father.” She couldn’t help but understand what the other priestesses had said now, when they spoke of his support.

He stopped his movements, holding her arm with a grip she had not been prepared for. “Anything.”

His eyes on her were piercing, as if she were a rabbit caught in the sights of a wolf. She felt her words stick in her throat; her legs frozen where they were, even though the only thought going through her mind was to run. It was the screams that broke the uncomfortable silence, desperate, terrified shrieks that burst through the walls with no relief. The grip on her arm tightened, and she felt herself being pulled towards the chaos of the main hall.

“What is the trouble-”

---

“What do you mean they’re not fucking dead!?” Shouted Friol as Darnys barricaded the sturdy door behinds them with crates and barrels she dragged behind her.

“As in undead… ghouls… zombies… fucking walking dead!” The sweat was meshing with her dark hair, causing it to stick to her forehead and she dragged her arm across it, sticky blood pulled with it and leaving a trail.

Friol shot her a scathing look. The bodies had been brought back as required and were ready to be burnt when the head of Dillie had unexpectedly exploded, throwing out viscera in all directions. Some had assumed it was the pressure of gasses as his corpse had been moved, others were more superstitious and blamed the gods for his involvement in the movement of a holy item. She’d put them all in their place, though, having them follow their orders: burn the two dead and get on with what they were supposed to do. As the hours had passed, more and more men grew sick. Rashes, blisters, nausea, and each had been confined to the basement of The Sleeping Snake tavern they’d been calling their base of operations.

Darnys panted against the wall of the back kitchen, her eyes glued to the door as the dull thudding could be heard against it from the other side. “Look, I’m just saying whatever they are, they’re not dead.”

“What about clerics? Surely, we have someone around here who can handle this type of shit.”

“Mads? Mads was the one with the eye hanging from his skull. Remember, part of his skull missing?”

“Fuck.” It was all Friol could respond with as she looked around the room for any weapons or escape. She noted the window above the countertops, large enough for her to fit through but possibly a squeeze if Darnys were to follow. It was considered whether the sacrifice would be worth it. “Right. Orders are to get that window open and get us out of here.”

Darnys rubbed her hands together, more trying to compose her senses than to provide herself with any warmth. She’d expected to be in trouble for not finding the artefact. What she had not expected was Bris to be outside the door, body parts and organs missing, pounding to get in to tear her limb from limb with other, now undead, Zhentarim.

A loud slam at the door caused it to rattle, and both survivors looked over at one another before turning to the window. It was no longer about orders or rules between them; it was about staying alive.

---

Astarion and Rugan sat with their wine in the back room of the Blue Jack Tavern. Conversation had drifted between the usual of past questionable activities, the opposite and same sex endeavours, and had finally reached the lull in the evening where the more serious topics emerged.

Rugan turned a white gold earring over in his hand, its sapphire stone glinting in the candlelight between them. “Thanks for the assist on this.”

“To see the drama between you two? No thanks are necessary.” Astarion swirled the red in his glass, becoming more and more hungry as the night dragged on. “Would it not have just been easier to steal an earring?”

“He wouldn’t have approved. Besides, I’m not that kinda guy anymore.”

“Wait, so the gold you stole from the Zhentarim around town to buy this… does not count?”

A sigh was produced before Rugan could find his words. “Let’s just say they owed me. Sort of a retirement payout for all my years’ service.”

Astarion smirked at the words. “Can take the man out of Zhentarim but can’t take-”

“Don’t even consider finishing that sentence. I’ve moved on, changed man, and all that bollocks.”

“Another drink?”

“Oh, yes.”

The two drank for some time, an impromptu celebration at what had been planned, before eventually taking to the streets of the Castle Ward.

Astarion supported Rugan as they wandered south through the streets towards the docks. It had got later than expected and in a few hours the sun would rise over the city, signally the start of a new day. “I can’t believe there is someone in this world that would want to marry Gale, of all people.”

“Hey…” Rugan slurred through his words, slightly envious of an elf’s ability to tolerate his liquor. “Gale… is… he can summon tentacles and let me tell you-”

“No, you will not tell me. I do not want to know.”

“I love him. He talks too much, and he likes perfume like any lass I know would. But gods, does he make me thankful to be alive…” His words drifted off, the image of Gale in his mind, tender kisses and loving embraces shared at their home together, a home Rugan always believed he’d never find.

“Turn the fuck around!”

The shout and speed at which the two women approached them instantly had Astarion trying to reach for a dagger, Rugan’s heavy weight putting him off balance.

Darnys and Friol darted past them, not stopping to question or attack them, and both stood in confusion at what had just happened, let alone the sharp words that had been shouted at them. It was as they spotted the hoard shambling through the shadows towards them, groans and screams growing with each lumbering step they understood.

Astarion was quick to turn, the momentum dragging Rugan with him. “Guess we listen to the ladies for a change.”

---

Tibs sat in the centre of the moonlit courtyard, his jaw barely hanging on, his eyes now dark festering pools. The pendant glowed around his neck, the chain sinking into the rotten flesh of his chest. Undead shuffled around him in search of further victims, some banging on the cloister doors trying to reach further recruits of their mindless army, others leaving the temple and chasing down anyone alive which they came across. Any humanity Tibs had before was now gone. All that was left was the walking dead shell, one that the previous day had been stupid enough to not follow orders.

[shewhowas39]

chapter 19 sneak peek!

working on chapter 19 of Juniper & Starlight! not sure yet when this will be up. Monday or Tuesday, i hope? but this one is gonna get spicy. here's a little preview before the spicy bits start. the lead up, if you will.

***

“Are you all right?” she asks. 

Astarion has to resist the urge to wince at the genuine worry in her voice. He’s still not used to people showing concern for him. It’s part of what he wants from her, of course, and yet it still itches, like a shirt made of cheap fabric. 

“Oh, yes, quite fine,” he answers. “My backside might be a bit bruised, however.” 

“Sorry.” June scrambles off of him and gets back to her feet. “I didn’t mean to knock you down. I saw you struggling to close the book and I felt a whole lot of necromancy and I got real scared something bad was about to happen to you and…” She trails off as Astarion also stands, dusting off his trousers. He watches her eyes dart to the book and then back to him. “How’s that going, by the way?”

“It’s a unique read, certainly,” he says, tossing a glare at the book. The two dark amethyst gems on hte cover seem to stare menacingly back at him. “A tome of necromancy guarded by spirits.”

“I take it those were the voices I heard when I touched it?” 

“Yes. They became louder when I opened it, surging into my mind. I can’t reason with them. They exist to protect that book.” He walks over and picks up the book, grimacing at the faint sound of whispers, taunting him from the shadows. “Someone went through a lot of trouble to protect this tome,” he says, more to himself than to June. “It has to be something more than a book of cantrips.”

“Astarion.” June takes a step closer to him, her eyes the color of midnight in this dim lighting. “I know you’re hoping to find something useful in there, but that thing is dangerous. I can feel it. I ain’t telling you not to read it, but please be careful.” She offers a smile that seems rather sad. “We already got one crazy person in the party. Don’t wanna add another.”

“You’re right,” he says. “I’d hate to be as mad as Lae’zel.” He’s pleased when that earns a little chuckle from her. “But perhaps you’re right. It may be best to put it aside for now.” Astarion sighs and scowls down at the book. “I still think it may have the key to giving me an edge over Cazador, but I can’t learn anything as long as those spirits remember their mission.”

“We’ll figure it out,” June says. “I promise.” 

He raises an eyebrow at her. “We?”

“Of course. I ain’t just gonna leave you hanging out to dry when all this mindflayer business is done with. Like I told you, Astarion, you’re my friend.” 

Her friend. 

Astarion moves his gaze back down to the book and away from June’s face. He needs to be careful. Last night, he’d nearly confessed everything to her. He’d been so surprised by her easy trust in him and so confounded by her declaring herself to be his friend that he’d nearly let the monster crawl out of the void in his chest and claw its way up through his throat. He’d nearly let the guilt he’s been avoiding looking in the eye go free. 

Thank the Gods she’d had one of her visions and hadn’t heard the first part of his admission. And thank them again that she’d kissed him and shut him up completely. 

In theory, he already has what he wants. She is concerned for him, she trusts him, she seems at least somewhat invested in his well being. That should make him feel good. It should mean his plan is working. Or perhaps even that it’s unnecessary at this point. But Astarion doesn’t trust it. He doesn’t trust that it can be that easy. And he certainly doesn’t trust that, if he told her the truth of his intentions, she’d still call him a friend. 

No. He needs to be careful and keep that guilt chained up in the darkest part of his soul, away from the light of day. He needs to not feel it. To not feel anything. 

But, by the Hells, June, with all her painful sincerity and her big, sad eyes, really makes that difficult sometimes.

“Well, if nothing else, perhaps I can beat Cazador to death with it,” he says, waving the book around theatrically before shoving it into his bag and silencing the voices in his mind. “But you came over here looking for me. Did you need something?”

“I actually came to see if you needed something.” June says, gesturing to her neck. 

“Oh!” Astarion’s mood instantly picks up at the prospect of her blood. “Now that you mention it, darling, I am feeling rather peckish.” He sidles up beside her, slipping an arm around her waist. “Your tent or mine?”

***

readers of J&S know that things get a little steamy once these two are alone in a tent together... this chapter is gonna take that to a new level. i'm excited!

[justablogger234]

something people get wrong

So this is going to be another unpopular opinion but as you all know I don't care it I offend anyone about it because it's my opinion and it shouldn't be offensive.

So something that's been kinda getting to me about the show is the misconception of the main character and how season 5 will be wills season or that he should be the one to kill vecna by some weird magic way of acquiring powers.

The phrase "it started with so it will end with will" is something that is seriously annoying to me. As you all may or may not know, El is my favorite character and I'm not mostly saying this because of bias or preference but from a narrative perspective. But you guys do know that just because the very first episode of the show starts with will getting abducted it doesn't exactly mean he's the main character or that it actually started with him. Because technically it started with el opening the gate and now not even then, it started way back with Henry and the mindflayer.

An argument could also be said that it started with Brenner, but everything that lead to vecna coming into this world and will getting kidnapped was because el defeated him in 1979. I strongly feel that people forget that or are just unaware of that.

If it wasn't for El sending him to dimension x, technically the demogorgon would have never randomly abducted will. No I don't think it wasn't random. No I don't think vecna has some special plan for will or that he's getting some powers that's just ridiculous and cringy.

Again we have to remember that if it wasn't for El, henry would have destroyed the world by now and everyone in hawkins would most likely be dead including your favorite will.

So this is Canon. This whole thing actually started with Brenner, Henry and el. Will was just an unlucky unfortunate victim at the wrong place and at the wrong time. Luckily he was fortunate enough to have caring friends and family and a strong little girl who cared enough to save his life and even sacrifice hers (to which he still hadn't thanked her yet by the way). Yes the show did technically start with his disappearance but in the show in terms of timeline it really didn't. There were certain events that weren't yet shown in season 1 that led to his disappearance that later get revealed in the show.

But boy is next year about to be annoying with all the will stans and the bylers. I swear, all the will fans are bylers and it's annoying. It's also annoying that these fools try to make him the main character when he's not, we already know who is and it's not him but he's still gonna be instrumental in season 5 with his knowledge of vecna and the upside down but that's it.

[fun-sized-owl]

The Devil and the Servant

Part XVI – Thankless Job

Warning: adult themes, sexual themes.

    Sornin stood there for a moment, not knowing how he was supposed to react to the news. Raphael was alive. That was not good. Before the fact that they’d stolen from him, fucked his personal incubus and then killed him… he had not personally minded the devil. A devil, yes, and Sornin knew that he should not trust him, but they had been desperate to get the tadpoles out of their heads, and he had never trusted The Emperor. Sornin would never trust an illithid. They were vile creatures, mindflayers who wanted to control him and everyone else. He had already been a slave to Lolth for too long, he would not become a slave to a disgusting creature like The Emperor.     Raphael had given them a way out, an alternative, and it had seemed good. Up until the point where even if The Emperor had been silenced for a moment, breaking that connection so he couldn’t hear them speak, Raphael had all but told him that the tadpole would remain. The devil did not have a way of removing it. Not yet, anyway. Not until he got that strange crown he’d been after. So what was the point?     What was the point in signing a contract with a devil that couldn’t do anything for him? They were the ones that were going to kill the Elderbrain anyway, which would sever the connection between their tadpoles. Raphael’s deal wasn’t needed anymore. But they did require the Orphic Hammer, which allowed them to free Prince Orpheus and use him in their end game.     His mismatched eyes were on the hellish ones across from him, bright and glowing after the thrill of having no doubt tasted someone’s flesh and blood when Haarlep had soul kissed them. He hated that the incubus, even now, made him feel strange things. It was all part of the creature’s allure, though, and Sornin was not the sharpest tool in the shed.     “I saw what I saw,” he argued. But it was true, in the fact that they did not see Mephistopheles completely devour his… son? Raphael was the son of an archdevil, and that was dangerous on a whole different level. Sornin was not well versed in devils and fiends, having led a rather sheltered life in the Underdark, but he knew enough to know that a pissed off father was not a good thing, especially someone as powerful as Mephistopheles.

    “You saw what you wanted to see,” Haarlep pointed out with a little smirk. “Devils are full of tricks, my dear, as you should know.” He grinned in the drow’s direction, a sweet smile at his red lips.

    Sornin growled, waving his hand dismissively. “Then if the devil is so upset, where is he?” he asked, gesturing around them. “Why send his sex toy to to find me? Is he too craven to stand before me again? He is too worried I might put my blade through his heart again?” It was Sornin to grin then, a triumphant look crossing his features, as shortsighted as he was.

    Halsin frowned, contemplating what might be the issue and why Raphael hadn’t approached them himself. He knew little of the laws of Baator, but he did know that they were strict. If Raphael truly was the son of Mephistopheles, perhaps his father was punishing him, or perhaps he was rallying his finest beasts to march from the Hells and come them. Again, the children were in danger.     “More reason that we now must leave this place.” He sighed, shaking his head. And he’d just gotten used to the idea of settling. But he could not risk the little ones, not after what he’d already put his old friend through. Thaniel was safe now, but the guilt and concern did not disappear so easily for Halsin.

    Haarlep’s head tilted, watching as the two elves were so very different from one another. One, a drow, surrounded by cruelty and pain, a life of blood and murder, and oppression by his spider queen. The other, a wood elf, so in tune with the nature that surrounded him and the earth beneath his feet. A calm, careful and nurturing creature. Both of them were handsome, and he’d already bedded one. He’d like to bed the bear as well, though he doubted Halsin would agree to that now.     “Oh, do not be so hasty, those expressions of worry will put little lines on your faces, and we can’t have that. Currently, Raphael is in a little bit of a predicament. You see, when you decided to end his life, his father was none too pleased about that.”

    There was the catch, Halsin thought. Something strange was going on here, otherwise why would it be Raphael’s incubus to find them and not the devil himself?     “I’d wager he’s none to pleased with us, either,” he pointed out. They could not waste time. This could be some kind of devilry. Haarlep had let them live once, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t strike eventually. He was a fiend. Perhaps he would call upon Thaniel and Oliver, perhaps they could hide the children within Thaniel’s realm until this madness had passed.

    Halsin was right, Sornin knew. The devil would hardly be wanting to strike a deal with them now. More like he’d be hellbent on finding them and killing them. As for Mephistopheles, who was Raphael’s father, well… that was likely even worse.     “Why should I care what Mephistopheles thinks? If he cared, he wouldn’t have sent an incubus to do a devil’s job. Be on your way, fiend. If Raphael didn’t want to be slain, then he shouldn’t have attacked me and my companions.”

    Haarlep resented that, though a look of amusement still spread across his face. “Oh, little spider.” He reached out and touched clawed fingertips to Sornin’s cheek, his eyes catching his and holding them, and he saw those muscles relax just a little. Though not entirely, before Halsin’s hand pressed to Sornin’s shoulder and drew him back to reality from the incubus’ touch.

    “Enough of your tricks, fiend. What is it that you wish from us?” Halsin ordered. “We have already told you that we no longer bear the Orphic Hammer. We cannot give you what you want.”

    Haarlep gave a bored sigh, withdrawing his hand and seeing the annoyance flicker across Sornin’s face from how easily he’d tempted him again. The drow wanted to snap him in two, but it would be a challenge to do so without all of his little friends and Hope.     “Then tell me where it is.”

    “How should I know?” Sornin answered with a wave of his hand.

    Haarlep laughed a single noise from his throat. “Do not weave your web around me, spiderling. You took it from my master’s house. It was I who so generously handed you the key to it’s location.”

    “And how does Raphael feel about that?” muttered Sornin.

KEEP READING ON AO3

[wine-dark-soup]

thinking about the emperor. ultimately he only thinks about his own survival and is very selfish, but also, it couldn't have gone any other way.

throughout the entire game, no one expresses sympathy for illithid (except if you are nice to him in the astral prism, and even so, you can still betray him afterwards). they are to be destroyed no matter what. and yet, he is there, with his free will, and enjoying his existence as an illithid. something that's technically impossible. and because illithid are universally hated, he knows he wouldn't survive for even a minute if he chose to roam the world without any cover.

so OF COURSE he had to choose deception and domination. yes, he killed ansur - because he thought that, as a full sentient being, he deserved to live. yes, he manipulated us - because if we didn't, we would probably have killed him, and again, he wants to live. yes, he pulled the strings from the shadows in baldur's gate and yes his influence probably killed stelmane - but it's not like he could have popped in the upper city claiming he was balduran. yes, he kept orpheus prisoner - but like, with orpheus free, the emperor would die.

i think the reason - aside that he wants it for his own personal gain - he insists so much on us absorbing the tadpole is that he wants someone else to see how great it can be to live as an illithid. show someone else it's fine and that it grants you unlimited powers.

and you know, he DID keep us alive after all. aren't we just like him? we refused to die even if we were technically doomed to turn into mind flayers, even killing people to stay alive, just like he had to kill ansur. orpheus even tells us we should just have died - even as we stand in front of the dead netherbrain! that we just killed! ourselves! thus saving everyone from illithid enslavement!

oh of course the emperor isn't nice. he says it: we are his puppets. out of all the endings there's only one where he survives and accepts to kill the netherbrain and set us free. and even then, it means he will still be hunted by the githyanki, led by vlaakith. his life as a mind flayer is STILL not accepted. the other endings have him control us and the sword coast, or die after he joins with the absolute.

but again. between saving everyone but still being a target for mind flayers hunter OR get a chance to live, as an omnipotent ruler, of course he would choose the latter. and the fact he immediately turns coat for the absolute if we choose to free orpheus makes sense: once again, with orpheus free, he would die. the absolute is his only chance of survival.

and like, we often say that *he* betrays us in that moment, but from his point of view, *we* betrayed him. he brought us this far. he saved our lives countless times. his last intervention happened quite literally two minutes ago, before the netherbrain dominates us. and yet, we still don't trust him (or we do, but we'd still rather free orpheus). all of that, for nothing.

as balduran, he was a hero. and i do think he still believed himself one - as in he thought he was the main character and the world revolved around him. if he survives the rest of the world can fall, whatever. he's still a protagonist. and there's a difference between being a hero and being a protagonist. but it did work, you know, because well, without him as a pivotal narrative tool, we would have died immediately.

i find it interesting that the ex-hero (balduran/the emperor) keeps the fated hero (orpheus) prisoner. he can't respect heroes anymore. there's a huge friction between them. but also, what does that mean for the story?

if a party member chooses to become a mind flayer, they become the ambiguous figure of the hero that will soon be hated.

if none in the pary becomes a mindflayer, in any case, orpheus and the emperor both die/are assimilated/forced to live in hiding.

in all those cases there's no hero left (not even counting the ending where we control the brain. of course we're no hero in that case). at best there's the memory of balduran, the memory of orpheus (as a githyanki) and the memory of the party member's heroic deeds. that's all.

not saying i absolve the emperor of what he did, but i do understand where he's coming from, he and his desire not to just be the memory of someone he isn't anymore.

[dwarfsized]

Omg I missed you posting the first chapter of Eldath's Mercy on AO3! I'm so happy and excited to see the angy vampire elf surrounded by druids and the way his escape here was as much the result of a terrible accident as the mindflayers one is so funny. Elf can't win for shit lol.

I'll say it again your Astarion is perfect and Kira is such an amazing character I'd read original stories just about her and her brother lol.

Hope you're doing great and so looking forward to what comes next!!! (No rush obvs, just excited).

I THOUGHT I ANSWERED THIS ALREADY....... IM SORRY!

Yes!!! Astarion can never win in his escape from Cazador, this is so important to me. it will always suck and be bad.

I'm really touched that you like my Astarion!! in eldath's mercy especially he's going to be. different. you'll see. chapter 2 is going to be a lot, but i think its going to be very fun. ;) And aww I!! i dont even know what to say to original stories about Kira and Vilryn (that you like them that much makes me a little weepy) except that I adore the concept only, well, lmao, while they DO love each other very much, I think if they tried to adventure together, they might kill each other <3 Vilryn is a classic "lives in a wizard tower and is allergic to sunlight" sort of wizard and this would not vibe with Kira's whole deal. She has other siblings who would be better suited to Travel.

I am doing well, thank you! I hope you are also!! I am working on a bunch of stuff but probably something for Wyllstravaganza2024 is coming out next? my wip list is (checks notes) oh actually kill me, ive got 16 wips now.

luckily this is all very fun. but. god. 16 wips. did you know i never had wips before bg3. i just did not do this? anyway i should get back to that and try to finish something huh.

thank you i love you byeeee

[aladaylessecondblog]

It Rhymes With House (Six Hours AU one-shot)

Author's Note: I haven't played Durge yet, but I intend to do a run next playthrough. This chapter's Durge is your bog standard one--white dragonborn. Dunno why he's here, he's just kinda chilling, because I've noticed the chillest people usually have the most shit going on.

I can't not torture Tav. Had an idea. In this I guess Raphael's 'Six Hours' offer was quite worse and Cald ended up at the Emerald Grove with Halsin. This is something I'd like to do but the buildup would be too similar to other fics. This one's a bit of a mess.

Yes I'm outright ripping Theon's shtick.

--------------

"Who in the hells is that?"

When the party turned back up in camp with an additional follower, nearly everyone was wary.

"One of Raphael's pets, I think," Karlach said, gesturing vaguely at the shaking figure nearby, "Poor sod begged to come with us. Said without Raphael there she was a sitting duck."

"We knows she's not a devil," Wyll started, "Doesn't look like a tiefling, she looks...a bit like me, actually. Given the horns, I mean--you know, they're just like his."

Durge crossed his arms. There was a pause, and a thousand-yard stare. He took in a sharp breath. "Where's Shadowheart? She could use some healing."

The woman backed away when Shadowheart approached.

"What is your name?" Shadowheart asked gently, noting the fear written all over the woman's face. There were scars here and there, but none on her face or hands.

"Mouse," the woman said shakily, as she looked up and around the campsite. "I...I don't remember much else. Something terrible happened to me, so the master took--took most of my memory. So I would not...be burdened by the past."

Durge stood close by, trying to ignore the scent of blood.

As Shadowheart healed her wounds Mouse muttered.

"Mouse, Mouse, it rhymes with house, the house of hope, and death of the same."

She looked to be a drow, but vitiligo had stolen the color of large chunks of her face and hands, and when the healing was done Mouse looked up anxiously.

"What do you want in return? Which of you do I serve now?"

"Nothing, and none of us. I'm sure you'll feel better after you've eaten," Shadowheart said, "You say you remember very little...where's Halsin? I know he's still got some noblestalk."

"Please, I've got nothing to give you in return," Mouse said anxiously. "I already owe you for the healing, and noblestalk is expensive. The master--"

"Your master is dead," Karlach finally spoke up, "Dead, do you hear me? He's not coming back, I beat the shit out of him with the hammer he didn't want us to steal."

Mouse lowered her head. "I know, but...I've nothing to offer you for all this, I already owe you an enormous debt for letting me go back with you, and..."

She trailed off at that.

Remember, Mouse. You are only worth what someone is willing to pay for you.

"Halsin should be back soon," Durge finally called out. "He went on a supply run with the boy."

-------------------------------------------------

My name is Mouse.

It was the first thing the master had taught her, and she remembered it when she'd forgotten everything else. Too painful, he'd said, really, he was doing her a FAVOR, cleaning it all out of her mind. Family, friends, all of them gone because of the mindflayers, and yet she was lucky--for there he was to save her!

There to keep the tadpole from turning her into an illithid.

Yes, yes, very lucky she was. Even if sometimes--sometimes, it would act up. The tadpole would make her remember things, and she would be disobedient...she would remember disobeying, but not what she'd remembered to cause it.

She only got pain she deserved, but the master preferred it to be non-physical. Locking her up alone, or having everyone in the House simply ignore her. Making her earn the right to be noticed again.

Mouse, Mouse, Mouse

He was always there to make things better, too, and to remind her of those that lurked outside the House of Hope. Those other devils, who would be far less kind masters than he was. That without him there to protect her, she would be ripped to shreds.

Then these strangers had come...killed Haarlep, stolen the hammer. She'd begged them to take her along, and for some reason they'd done it, with no guarantee of payment or return.

Then they'd brought her here, kept her warm by the fire, given her food even.

It was...they were...nice. Moonlight above, grass below. She'd forgotten the green of it, the soft light of the moon, everything she was feeling and seeing right now.

The tadpole squirmed in her head.

No, please, don't make me remember--

The master was dead. He was DEAD. She kept telling herself that but still the fear rose. A fire, like this one, four bedrolls, and three of the others she was seeing around camp.

Every time the tadpole stirs, it causes trouble. It makes you remember things, and those things make you forget who you are. And who are you? Tell me.

M-Mouse. My name is Mouse. It rhymes with house, the house of hope, and death of the same

The master was the only truly clear thing in her mind. Lurking behind every stray thought. Waiting to punish bad behavior, or praise the good.

The memories were shady, though, only half-real. Half-remembered, on the very edge of sight she had to squint to see at all. But the tadpole stirred again...

"MAMA!"

A jolt.

Has anyone told my husband?

Nothing is more precious to me.

Mouse flinched when a body suddenly collided with her own, wrapped her neck in a tight hug.

"Mama, you're--you're back! Mister Durge said they killed the devil that took you!"

She looked up shakily when the boy drew back. Dark eyes--

His eyes.

--fluffy white hair.

"She says she doesn't remember anything," the white dragonborn said, "So go easy on her."

The boy's expression dropped, and his eyes misted instantly. "He made you forget me?"

"He-he made me forget everything that wasn't him," Mouse said. "I'm sorry, I..."

"Here," said a stronger voice behind the boy. "Give her this, it might help."

Mouse looked up, then back down immediately. The elf before her looked even more concerned than the others, and sat down beside her once he'd handed off something to the boy.

"You truly don't remember, do you? To live so long with the memories you carried, and then to forget them...before you could even know that someone else shared them, too. Such pain I would never wish on another, no matter how foul."

The boy sat down in front of her, and held out--a mushroom. "It helped Shadowheart and Mister Durge remember things, so maybe it'll help you too."

"Noblestalk," she said, taking it, "That's expensive, I don't have--"

"We can spare it," Durge called from somewhere, "We just robbed a devil, we've got PLENTY."

"Eat it, mama, please."

The boy begged her so earnestly, she could do nothing but listen. She ate, and after a pause the illithid began to twitch in her mind again. A flash of memory of the boy before her, showing him the contents of a box she'd kept hidden. Rings and whiskey and...boots? Then it shifted, and--the master--appeared. Words from her own lips, she heard in her own voice in her mind--

I will do anything if it means protecting my son.

The boy before her...the same as had been beside her in that memory.

"You...you are my son," Mouse said, "Cald...is that right?"

The boy smiled and nodded eagerly.

The large elf spoke again. "You sold yourself to that devil to protect him from the same foul vampire to torment our star."

"How did--where have you been all this time, then?" Mouse asked. "Please tell me you've been alright."

"You sent me to mister Halsin here when...when the devil visited. He's nice...some of the other druids weren't, but he was."

"And we were lucky," Halsin said, "That I recalled the time before, else...else things may have gone ill, considering the views of the druids of my grove. I was not aware before. But I was this time."

There was a pause.

"My heart, I am...so sorry that you have had to go through all of this. When they freed me from the goblin camp, I feared the worst..."

"I told mister Halsin who that devil was and he was pretty sure we were going to meet him later. I already knew we would...I wanted to come when they went to go kill him but they wouldn't let me."

"He's as dead as a devil can get," Durge called from his tent.

"It would not do to lose you when we had only just found your mother," Halsin said, "I imagine you must have many questions you want to ask of him, Tav, so I will leave you to--"

"No, no, my name is Mouse." It was hard not to include the rest of it, she almost felt she'd break her jaw trying.

"No, mama, it's Tav," the boy said, "My name is Cald, this is Halsin, and you're Tav."

Please, someone, anyone, talk to me.

The large elf--Halsin--seemed to decide on a look from Cald to stay exactly where he was.

"Perhaps time in nature will help. As a druid, you must be relieved to see the greenery again."

"I don't...I don't remember...being a druid. I don't remember any of this. We didn't have many plants in the House of Hope, and...I was told not to pray to any gods there, so even if Silvanus COULD hear me..."

A pause.

"My contract," she said, "Did you see my contract while you were there?"

"They brought back some I helped them burn," Cald said, "We're still looking through a big stack."

"Perhaps we can burn mine together."

Raphael was not dead, not truly, but if she could get the contract burned at least she would not be compelled to obey afterwards.

At least, not by the contract.

[laurelindebear]

BG3 update: spent the whole weekend waffling about whether to romance Halsin (aka my last chance since I messed up.) Went for it, then reloaded and said no (which took a minute because it's bugged, so if I expressed interest but then declined after the poly questions it still thought I said yes and ran the sex scene and romance dialogues anyway.) I decided my bard was just gonna pine for Dammon. (Cut for spoilies):

Halsin's a good guy and all, but his interest and definitions of what he wants seemed kind of all over the place to me. In one breath he seems to indicate that he feels differently about you than most people, even other sexual partners ('my heart does not stir lightly; it does now') and in the next he chides you for even enquiring about your 'relationship' because he doesn't like the word. Bro, we had a 'relationship' even when that was 'acquaintances because I broke you out of goblin prison'. We can be FWB or we can be partners in an open relationship and either is fine, but like...which is it?

Now I've gotten a fair bit past that point and I'm kind of regretting it again. Dammon is barely a character (he's nice, sure, but we don't see enough of him to see flaws like we do in the companions.) Halsin's dialogues can be a bit...full of naturalistic fallacy and I think I'm too ace/insecure/messed up to be enthusiastic about his preferences, but...he's there, he's a perfectly good slab of man, idk.

I don't necessarily see my bard as hellbent on world travel any more than I see her as promiscuous like the stereotype, so I could see her happy enough to settle in Reithwin and help rebuild, entertain at the tavern, tell stories to the orphan kids, do some alchemy, whatever. If that's an option with the later patches (vs Halsin just leaving and de facto ending the not-relationship with no opportunity to say 'I'll come along'), maybe that would be good. I love romances in games so I'm disappointed I've missed out here. Maybe it's the age thing? I'm half-elf, so he's already lived longer than my Tav will at all.

But part of me thinks it's cute to imagine Tav as a skilled performer (and incredibly persuasive individual) who is painfully awkward in her personal life. Everyone in camp knows she has a crush on Dammon but she's convinced he fancies Karlach and won't make a move. Plus, she's pretty preoccupied with the whole 'saving the world' thing. Maybe Lae'zel even tries to give her The Talk because she thinks she doesn't know. But if the world doesn't end, and she doesn't turn into a mindflayer, or die, and she joins Alfira's bard college and sticks around Baldur's Gate...

Oh blerg idk I'm stupid and in my head about everything and ruining my own ability to finish a damn game, quelle surprise. I should have just married Wyll, or talked to Karlach at the party.

[elspethdekarios]

Faerûnian 29 Day Writing Challenge: Days 2 & 3

Doing the SFW prompts again with these. But don't worry, there will be smut in my future.

Feb 2. Waking up on the ravaged beach

Elspeth was nothing and no one. She could see nothing. She remembered nothing. She had no concept of who she was or where she was. Not even a conscious thought about life or death crossed her mind because there was no mind to be crossed. There was only a gentle breeze around her, and the sound of gentle waves waxing and waning on a shore nearby. This is what roused her back to consciousness. It didn’t occur to her to open her eyes–nor did it occur to her that she had eyes at all. She was a simple, amorphous being in abstract space.

Slowly, her memories came back to her. She remembered first that she was a person, that she had been alive. Was she… dead? This thought was enough for her to open her heavy eyelids, only to be accosted by a blindingly bright blue sky. Squinting, she turned her head to the side, sand sticking to her face, and saw a picturesque beach, the shore just an arm’s length away from her. She made no move to rise–her body was aching terribly–but she did reach out towards the water, letting the cool waves grace her fingertips. Turning her head to the other side, however, she shot upright and gasped. 

It all came rushing back as she looked upon the debris. The menacing tentacle, being trapped in a strange pod, a mindflayer–oh gods, a mindflayer… bringing a tadpole to her eye. The memory of its terrifying eyes, pulsing brain exposed on either side of its head, and long, taloned fingers. Her heart raced so fast she could feel it in her throat. Her stomach churned and she started gagging, retching, though nothing was in her stomach to throw up. Okay, she thought. Not the time to panic. I need to act. 

She started desperately trying to recall learning anything about mindflayer parasites in her healing classes–surely there was something. A tadpole in your brain wasn’t exactly a common condition, but it seemed like something a cleric could remedy. Nothing came to mind, so brought her mind back to the nautiloid, trying to remember the events that led her to this beach. After the tadpole, there was fire. Crashing. She was pretty sure they were in the hells at one point. Yes–they were. It’s where she met the githyanki. Did she survive the crash? What about the cleric? Surely there were others on the ship, as well–did anyone survive?

Elspeth rose to her feet, her light blue silk dress torn and bloodied. She was wearing boots that didn’t belong to her, vaguely remembering finding them on the ship and replacing her impractical shoes. She swore she could remember finding a jacket, too… ah, yes–it was on the ground a few feet away. She shrugged it over her shoulders and began walking, praying to Corellon that she was not the lone survivor of this crash. 

There was a body nearby. As she approached, black hair and strange armor came into view. Shadowheart–the cleric she freed from the pod.

“Shadowheart,” she said as she shook the girl’s shoulders, noticing the strange polyhedric relic in her hand. “Shadowheart?”

She stirred, opening her eyes and sitting upright. “You’re alive… I’m alive. How is this possible?”

They were like two sides of the same coin. Both clerics–but Elspeth was light where Shadowheart was dark. In hair and in spirit. Both half-elves. Both in terrifying mortal danger.

“I was hoping you might know,” Elspeth answered.

Shadowheart stood and tucked the strange artifact away. “I remember the ship. I remember falling… then nothing.”

“Same for me. What should we do now?”

“First thing’s first: we need supplies, shelter, and most of all, a healer. We might have escaped, but we still have these little monsters in our heads.”

“Agreed. But first–what happened to our gith friend?”

“You may want to reconsider calling her a friend. Looks like she ran off without us.”

Elspeth had never met a githyanki before, and she knew they were often perceived unfavorably, but she didn’t share Shadowheart’s vitriol. After all, the gith–Elspeth didn’t know her name–was the only one who knew how to land the ship. She helped, even if it may have been mostly out of self interest. She could have easily left them behind.

The two clerics began walking the length of the beach, hoping against hope to find some sort of miracle.

Feb 3. First encounter with their love interest

“A hand? Anyone?”

The strange sigil on the stone shimmered with magic, its violet edges glowing and sparking like lightning. A man’s arm stuck out from the blackness in the middle.

“I do not trust this magic,” Lae’zel snarled. 

Elspeth didn’t know if she trusted it, either, but she couldn’t leave this stranger stuck there. She moved to grab the arm.

“Wait,” Shadowheart said before stepping closer to the portal. “Who are you?” she asked the disembodied hand.

“Just your average traveler stuck between realms,” the man said. “Pull me out, and we’ll get properly introduced.” 

Shadowheart gave a slight shrug of approval. After several moments of tugging with all the strength Elspeth could muster, a man in a purple robe tumbled out of the portal and onto the ground in front of her. She bent down to help him up, the man grabbing her hand as he pushed himself up.

“Thank you,” he said, lifting his face to see who his savior was. Still half-kneeling, their faces were mere inches apart, and Elspeth’s breath caught in her throat. The man had the most gorgeous deep brown eyes she had ever seen. And she couldn’t explain it, but a sense of calm certainty seemed to radiate from him. They continued rising until they were both on their feet, hands still clasped between them. Realizing this, the man shook her hand in introduction, smoothing over any possible awkwardness.

“Hello! I’m Gale of Waterdeep.”

“Elspeth,” she said as he broke the handshake. “Of… Baldur’s Gate?” 

The man chuckled. “Apologies–I’m usually better at this.

“No need to apologize. Are you all right?”

“A bit shocked, but friend, it’s a relief and a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” His smile was charming, the relief in his voice genuine. His shoulder-length brown hair looked soft and pristine, especially for having just been stuck between realms. Little streaks of gray peeking out around his face. His beard gave him a bit of a rugged look, but he still looked remarkably well-groomed. A wispy tattoo trailed from the center of his chest up the side of his neck, disappearing behind a pierced ear.

She was fucked. She was so fucked. 

“Say, but I know you, don’t I? In a manner of speaking,” he continued as she reprimanded herself silently. “You were on the nautiloid as well.”

“I was, yes.”

“Then I can only assume you too were on the receiving end of a rather unwelcome insertion in the ocular region.” He gestured towards his eye. His deep, brown eyes….

Stop. It. Now. Elspeth tried to put these thoughts aside. Not even an hour ago she woke up on a strange beach after a strange crash and was in a strange and terrible situation with people she had never met. Developing a crush on a man she met two minutes ago was ridiculous. 

“I… well, I couldn’t have phrased it more repellently myself, but yes.” 

“No use sugarcoating it,” he smirked. “This insertee we speak of–this parasite–are you aware that after a period of excruciating gestation it will turn us into mindflayers? You don’t happen to be a cleric, by any chance, do you? A doctor? Surgeon? Uncannily adroit with a knitting needle?”

“I am a cleric, actually,” she answered. “But I’m afraid I’m not at all familiar with extracting parasites from one’s brain.”

Shadowheart interjected from behind her. “You seem to know enough about our condition to realize it is beyond most clerics’ skills.”

“Most, no doubt,” Gale said. “But I find myself hoping to be in the presence of the few.”

“Well, neither Elspeth nor I seem to be one of those few.”

“Ah, two clerics?” Gale asked. “Different deities, I assume. But that’s neither here nor there. Regardless, we’re most certainly going to need a healer, and soon, too. How about we lend each other a helping hand once more and look for a healer together?”

“Sounds like a plan,” Elspeth replied. “You’re welcome to join us.” She made sure to say this with indifference despite her internal monologue wanting to say something along the lines of please for the love of Corellon join us because if I’m only going to live for seven more days I would like at least one of them to be spent in bed with you.