#bathing in holy fire // dnd verse.

[celestialdetected]

Sometimes, Arawn will look at his son from across a campfire, or huddled over a desk, or wolfing down the last scraps of a meal at a tavern and feel a deep, unabiding rage. Not at him. Never at him. But for him. For the boy that had been left by his birth father. For the dragon who must constantly wonder why he's not enough.

One day, Arawn thinks, he's going to kill that old dragon. But later, after he's raised Harry, after he's seen his boy thrive, so he can give a long detailed list of everything Norman's missed, and watch as the realization dawns that he abandoned what should've been his greatest treasure.

But for now, he passes a hand over Harry's hair. "You did well today," he says. "I'm very proud of you."

@inhcritance liked for a starter

[celestialdetected]

Arawn heard his mother's voice in his head, chiding him about accepting strange potions from strange men, but, well, she had never been chased halfway across the city by enraged cultists, so she didn't get a vote.

He took the potion, uncorked it, and sniffed warily. It had that sharp, medicinal scent that all healing potions carried. Still, he raised a wary eyebrow at the stranger and said;

"If this is poison I will haunt you, and I will be annoying as shit about it." Then he knocked the potion back, downing its contents.

Immediately he felt his wounds knitting back together, that uncomfortable itching feeling that came with accelerated healing. He prodded his side experimentally, and only felt the sting of newly healed skin.

"Well, look at that. Thank you, stranger," he held out a hand. "Arawn Howell, private eye."

The human raised an eyebrow curiously at the mention of the cult, memories of the Angel of Irons fiasco flashing through his mind, but that was a couple of years ago by now. He considered the man before him, taking in his haggard appearance and clear exhaustion. Though wary, Caleb's natural inquisitiveness won out.

"The Tangles, you say? I don’t know much of the cults there, though such things often fester in the shadows here," he replied carefully.

The wizard cautiously approached the stranger, pulling a small bottle from his coat. "Here. Drink this, it will help hold you over." He offered the healing potion as a gesture of good faith. It would not do much to cure the poison, but it would heal him enough to hang on in the meantime.

Thought he watched the man's reaction closely. If he accepted the potion, perhaps they could have a civil conversation about this mysterious cult. There were few problems in this world that could not be solved with the right application of knowledge and magic. And Caleb had plenty of both at his disposal, should this encounter take a more… dangerous turn.

[celestialdetected]

Arawn knows, logically, that he and Flo are not actually siblings. They did not grow up together, they didn't even meet until both of them were tired, traumatized, adults. But sometimes...sometimes he forgets this.

Especially when Flo takes the best bit of the meal he prepared, off of his plate, and then dashes away.

"Don't you fucking dare," he calls after them, plate abandoned to one side, already giving chase. "That's mine, I worked for that, give it back!"

And then it doesn't matter that they didn't grow up together, because they are both children in this moment, tussling with each other after a tiny slight. And Arawn is going to win.

@saintsdawn liked for a starter

[celestialdetected]

@saintsdawn says: ❛ unfortunately for everyone, i will keep doing whatever i want.  ❜

Arawn took a long, slow, drag of his ale. He closed his eyes and said with the exhaustion of someone who knew when to cut their losses and said. "I know you will Flo, I know you will."

"And I will be there to scrape you up off the ground when it gets you killed."

[celestialdetected]

@wildskissed said: ❝it’s a tomb with an exit. that’s the worst kind.❞

Arawn smiled grimly, hurriedly going through the somatic components of detect magic. What he wouldn't give to have a paladin's divine sense in here. He was jumping at shadows, certain he'd seen that coffin's lid move.

"Well, I'd rather it have an exit than nothing at all. It means we can get out." He cast the spell, grimacing as things lit up around him.

Conjuration. Abjuration. Oh, joy, there was the Necromancy.

"Of course, it also means something can follow us."

[celestialdetected]

"You make a good point," Arawn echoes to himself, exasperated. It was times like these that he wanted to shake his son by the shoulders until he accepted that he was cherished. It was times like these he wanted to storm off and pick a fight with an ancient green dragon, just because of one poor, lonely boy.

He didn't do either of those things. Instead, he watched a crow preen itself on a near by branch. "Come, let's get back to camp. Let the Matron of Ravens do her work here." He nodded to the bird. He would leave the death goddess in peace, so long as she didn't touch his children.

He slung an arm around Harry's shoulders. "We did good work here today." Even with the casualties, it was important that Harry remembered that. "I'm proud of you."

While Harry is not entirely unused to healing magic, he doesn't think he'll ever be fully used to it. Because he heals fast, by himself, or at least far faster than a half-elf should, but it's far from immediate and very different, and also very much unlike potions.

It's Arawn casting, however, and so Harry acquiesces, and while the injury is sharply painful, it isn't long until flesh is knitting together again and the bone shifts, the sensation as jarring as the suddenly much dimmer pain. Still, Harry knows better than to let himself focus on that, instead stretching his fingers, testing the muscle. The wound is still a bit tender, but it's not much of a wound anymore.

"You make a good point." He admits, his smile faintly sheepish. "Thank you."

He turns his head almost immediately, however, a sound catching his attention just as a crow lands on a nearby branch. He's glad he doesn't believe in most omens, right then.

"Still, we aren't far... And at least the nearby towns are in a bit less danger now." He adds, looking at the result of the battle.

He's never been fond of violence, but he's even less fond of innocent people suffering.

[celestialdetected]

@inhcritance says: ❝ i started worrying you wouldn’t wake up. ❞

Honestly, Arawn felt like maybe he shouldn't have. Everything hurt. His head throbbed and he could taste copper on his tongue. He turned and spat out a mouthful of blood.

What had they fought again? It was hard to recall, thinking was making him dizzy. He remembered the light shining off his crystal blade and a young dragon's roar. The same dragon who was staring down at him, his expression just shy of panic.

"Nah kiddo," he said, forcing himself not to slur the words together. "You're stuck with me."

[celestialdetected]

The thing I love most about Arawn is that no matter how much his life spirals he will always be a good father. Because for two years he was absent in his baby girl's life due to incarceration, and he wants to make sure that never happens again. So even when his life is in shambles, so much so that he doesn't know who he is anymore, he will always show up for Rhiannon. Recitals, tea parties, walks in the park, homework, friend drama, he is there and ready to help her work through it.

[celestialdetected]

i know it probably looks bad from where you’re standing, florence’s voice rings loud and clear in arawn’s mind. but it’s fine! i have it under control, and there won’t be a wildfire to –

she never pays attention to the spell’s limit.  

Arawn freezes, listening to Flo's voice echo in his head. It's jarring. Sending always is, and watching the thick, black smoke curling from the forest doesn't help his nerves. "There is definitely a wildfire Flo. Where are you? It doesn't look like you have it under control. Where are you?"

He sighs, pulls out his tome, and casts Sending again. "Where are you? You can fucking reply to this message."

@saintsdawn

[celestialdetected]

Arawn doesn't actually sigh in relief, no, that would give Flo far too much leverage over him. But the tension in his shoulders does release, just slightly. They were good kids really, bright-faced and eager, they deserved more help than he alone could provide.

"I think we can at least show them what not to do." He scratches his beard, thinking about all the fights Flo and him picked just because they were hotheaded and knew they would win.

Arawn takes a moment to imagine the picture Flo's painting, the two of them with a gaggle of baby heroes trailing behind them like ducklings. "Hard to say where they'll get those bruises," he muses because they both liked to train thoroughly and train hard. "Could be from us."

Florence doesn’t see herself as a mentor. With the mistakes she’s made ( and makes ), it wouldn’t be wise to take a young adventurer under her wing. What if her advice is wrong? What if the time, care, and sweat of training doesn’t aid their survival? 

It would break her heart.

Still, Arawn has a point. If they don’t step in, there’s a chance these eager adventurers will find themselves in an early grave. “ Us ? Oh, that’ll be interesting. Do you think we’ll be able to knock some sense into them ? ”

It’s the closest she’ll get to saying this: yes, I’ll stay. And then she laughs, the sound muffled by the back of her hand. “ What a sight we’ll be ! A couple of healers with a gaggle of bruised would-be heroes following our steps. ”

[celestialdetected]

@vchloras cont. from here

Arawn twists, batting Loras's hand away from his nose, only to tangle their fingers together and just hold him for a moment.

"Oh please, as if you'd ever want to. You'd hate how groggy it makes you. Besides, it would mess up that perfect hair of yours."

[celestialdetected]

Arawn remembered the circus fondly. The Fletching and Moondrop travelling carnival. Arawn had taken Rhiannon there for her third birthday; it had been one of the last nights he'd spent with his daughter before he'd made that supremely life altering fuck up.

She'd been dazzled by the lights, some strung up, some made to free float by magic. He remembered that he'd had to hold her close to keep her from touching them. Then there had been the fortune teller Rhiannon had taken one look at the tiefling's coat and had toddled off after them to get a better look, Arawn had caught up with them only to find the fortune teller turning this way and that so his little girl could see all the embroidery and spinning a wild and elaborate story about what each stitch meant. Arawn was only mostly sure they were lying.

He remembered the circus. He remembered that coat. But Arawn didn't know what it was doing here; at a shithole pub in Rexxentrum, full of shithole people. He watched the tiefling for a moment, it was hard not to they stood out like a sore thumb amongst the crowd. Bright cloth in a sea of dirty leathers, and well....most people in here weren't purple. Then he swaggered over with all the grace he could muster and sat himself down beside them.

"Pretty sure there isn't a carnival in town," he drawled, downing the dregs of his drink and signalling the barkeep for another. "So what are you doing here?"

@tcaleaf liked for a starter!

[celestialdetected]

Arawn knew the god of death was behind him without even having to turn around. He could feel Thanatos' presence like a second shadow. There was something about him that muted the outside world, ever so slightly; quieted the birdsong, and dimmed the sunlight.

He stood, wiping the blood off his palms and shook the dreges of healing magic from his fingertips. These people hadn't been his friends, they'd paid him to help find a cousin of theirs, lost in the wilderness. He'd found the cousin, but not before they'd run afoul of a pack of hungry gnolls.

But friends or not, it still hurt to have failed them in such a final way. Soundlessly he walked right into Thanatos' arms, burying his head in the god's chest.

"I tried. Than, I tried."

He'd let him get back to his work. Eventually.

@thanatologies

[celestialdetected]

@deleteriousness says: ❝pleasure to meet you. i have the feeling you’re having a really bad day.❞ from lydia!

It wasn't as if he'd gone looking for a fight. He'd gone looking for a drink, the fight had found him. He'd just...let it. Sometimes it was easier to do that, let the anger win. Fighting was simple he didn't have to think so gods-damned much.

And now he was regretting it. His skull pounded, and he was fairly certain his nose was broken. He could fix that, but...he was so tired.

And now there was a woman standing over him, far too cheery for his liking.

"If you would please go the fuck away that would be most appreciated."

[celestialdetected]

@weavermasked continued from here

They'd been dancing around each other for months now. Arawn wasn't used to being shy in relationships, but the situation Loras and he had found themselves in was a delicate one; Arawn hadn't wanted to make advances while Loras was stuck under his roof, never wanted to make him feel like he had to do anything for a warm place to sleep.

But now they were here, running into the unknown together.

But now they were here and Loras was taking off his mask, just because Arawn asked. He hadn't been sure what was under it; burns he'd assumed. Or perhaps the wearing of a mask was a cultural practice a thousand years dead, fallen with Avalir.

Under it, Loras was old. Ancient. An elf near the end of his life. Arawn raised an eyebrow and carefully kept his face blank. He disentangled his hand from Loras, smoothing a thumb over the wrinkled skin.

So this is what you will look like as an old man. There was a pang of something as Arawn realized he'd never get to see him like this. Not really. He'd be long dead before Loras showed any sign of age.

"I'm sorry." His free hand cupped Loras unblemished cheek. "For your accident," Then to lighten the charged atmosphere between them; "We sort of match. You get yours being stupid as well?"

Arawn stretched up on tiptoe, and pressed their lips together. He had asked to kiss him after all.

[celestialdetected]

@inhcritance asks: ❝ i’m starting to think we’re in over our heads. ❞

"Nooo, really?" Arawn drawls, spending one of his few, precious, spells, to erect a wall of radiant flame between them and the hoards of enemies currently wanting to rip them to shreds. "I hadn't noticed."

And then: "Now would be a real good time for a dragon, you know, if you feel like it."