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amandacanwrite · 4 months ago

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Violet Thread of Fate || Part Five : A Kiss

Part One || Part Two || Part Three || Part Four || Part Five || Part Six || Part Seven || Part Eight || Join Taglist

POV || 3rd Person Gender Neutral Tav (The Fox from The Fox and The Bear) x Halsin Silverbough

Scenario|| Elinna Inklynn is an orphan with an uncanny ability to mess up even the simplest of spells. It’s not her fault; she hasn’t ever had access to a proper teacher. But she has had access to books, and she’s read about a certain gentleman wizard in Waterdeep that may just be willing to help her.

She books passage on a ship from the Moonshae Islands and sails to Waterdeep, only to be rejected by Gale Dekarios. He doesn’t take on apprentices.

But their paths become inextricably intertwined when an enormous Nautiloid targets the City of Splendors.

Word Count || Just under 4,000 words

Warnings || Mentions of abuse and neglect. 18+ content, minors DNI. Mutual oral, teasing, size difference. Please let me know if I've neglected anything.

A/N || Hello, I return from the grave with prezzies. Many of you read my halsinxtav fic and now they are in Violet Thread of Fate officially! I have had a very chaotic four months, but things are beginning to stabilize, luckily. I will make a post shortly catching you all up on the everything!

Taglist || @verba-writing @softvampirewhump @horizonstride @thoughts-of-bear @mymybirdie @tiedyedghoulette @drabblesandimagines @madwomansapologist @hijirikaww @tryingtowritestuff24 @laserlope @auroraesmeraldarose @puckprimrose @dont-try-pesticide @cherifrog @circusofthelastdays @nourangul @crucibelle @fan-aaa-tic

THIS CHAPTER IS EXPLICIT. MINORS DNI!!

A Kiss

Briar woke up to the feeling of feather soft kisses on the curve of their narrow shoulder.

They still weren’t used to this reality; one in which Halsin took every moment he could to indulge in them. But it was always a pleasant thing to wake up to.

A large, rough-hewn hand took the place of those kisses, smoothing a path down their arm. They felt pleasantly dwarfed by Halsin’s touch, their skin warming in a low intensity flush–as if Halsin carried the very essence of the sun in his fingertips.

A low burn in Briar’s belly joined that warmth as Halsin tangled his fingers with theirs and kissed up the curve of their neck.

His voice was a low rumble in Briars ear, hot breath making the back of their neck prickle.

“Are you awake, my heart?” he asked.

“Reluctantly…” Briar admitted, their lashes fluttering as they turned onto their back to look up at their lover.

He was there, propped up on his elbow and looking down at them. His hair was unbound and hanging around his face in gentle, undulating waves. Briar loved it when Halsin’s hair was down and wild. Loved it in a way they could scarcely admit until recently…until Halsin had finally told them that he’d wanted for them in the very same way they had wanted for him. Until that balmy afternoon when they’d kissed under the dappled shade of an oak tree. Until that kiss became deeper and more and…

“Perhaps there’s some way I could help you embrace the rising sun with a bit more enthusiasm?” He offered playfully.

“I will remind you that foxes are nocturnal creatures,” they responded.

“Mmn–as you remind me most mornings,” he teased. “I’m beginning to sense a theme.”

“I don’t like what you’re implying,” Briar said, feigning that it was a great affront to their honor.

Halsin’s smile took on a sharper, hungrier quality. He released Briar’s hand and smoothed it over their bare belly before scooping them into his arms and adjusting them onto their back. He leaned in closer until Briar could smell the gentle aromas of tobacco and pinewood coming off of his skin. “And just what am I implying, little fox?” he said.

That low burn intensified into something warmer than sunlight–something more akin to the hot smolder of a campfire.

“That I am misrepresenting my sleepiness in order to get something out of you…” Briar said, their voice dropping down nearly a full octave.

“And what do you have to get out of me, little fox?” he asked.

Briar shrank into the bedroll beneath them, feeling their face warm as they pressed their lips together.

Halsin tilted his head and let out a warm, mirthful laugh. “My heart,” he said. “After the many times we’ve indulged in each other’s bodies…you would think you would be more comfortable with telling me what you want. We don’t even sleep fully clothed most nights.”

Briar looked askance before lifting their thumbnail to their teeth and gnawing at it. Halsin lifted his hand to catch their wrist and pull their hand away. “You don’t need to avoid me, my love.”

Briar looked back up at Halsin and let out an exhale. “I know I don’t…” they said. “I suppose that I…I just…”

Halsin looked at them intently, ever patient as they worked out the finer points of what they were feeling. While he waited, he smoothed his hand through Briar’s wild tangle of hair, knowing how it soothed them.

As Briar closed their eyes and allowed themselves to calm, the thoughts started to come together a little easier; a little more clearly.

“It still doesn’t feel right…” they finally said. “To want things with you…to tell you that I want you. It still feels like you’ll wake up tomorrow and realize how ill suited I am for you.”

“Ill suited?” he asked. “You needn’t suit me. You’re not a tunic, or a piece of armor. You’re an individual–you’re entirely your own being and beautifully crafted by nature. If anything, I am lucky that you’ve taken such an interest in me.”

“I’m sure there are people at the grove who would disagree,” Briar said.

“And those people are not ones I wish to interact with–moreover, they aren’t me,” he insisted. “I’m here because I love you–not someone’s opinion of you. I’m not doing you a favor by choosing you as the one I share my bed and my life with–so long as you’ll have me.”

“I can’t even imagine a day where I wouldn’t have you,” Briar said.

“Well, then, we’re in agreement, aren’t we?” Halsin said, his smile gentle. “So, dear heart…what do you wish to get out of me? Tell me your desire. Whatever could you be leveraging these lazy mornings to get out of me?”

Briar’s chest started to rise and fall with a newly stoked want. They lifted a hand and brushed it gently over the strong line of Halsin’s jaw, smoothing their lithe fingers into his loose hair.

“I want you,” they said.

Halsin’s eyes went faintly hooded. “Tell me more,” he said. “Tell me how you want me. Tell me where.”

They let out a shuddering breath willing themselves to find the words inside of them. They were so used to going at whatever pace was set by their lovers. They were usually happy to simply be participating–to have even gotten an invitation to enjoy someone’s body in the most intimate way.

It was not something Halsin was willing to abide, however.

Despite little more than a tenday passing since Halsin and Briar had left the grove, they had enjoyed each other plenty of times in varying degrees of intensity, at various points of the day. They’d lovingly explored each other. Halsin was happy to take the lead at first, at least that was how it seemed to Briar. But for the past few days, he had encouraged them to be more vocal–more clear.

It was not at all what they were used to with a partner. And it was proving to be one of the more challenging things about their seedling union.

“I can’t…” they said, feeling sheepish as they always did.

“You can, my heart,” Halsin said tenderly. “And you will be rewarded for doing so. Tell me how I’m to enjoy your body today and I will happily oblige you.”

Briar swallowed dryly, feeling their flush spread to their pointed ears as they nodded.

Halsin wound one of Briar’s curls around his index finger as he waited patiently for their answer. Briar did their best not to collapse into themselves as they worked up the nerve to speak.

“I want to be…” they said, their voice quiet. “T-tasted by you…again.”

Halsin nodded, as if discussing what they should have for breakfast once they stumbled out of their tent together. “And what shall I taste, dear heart?” he asked.

“My chest,” they said breathlessly.

“I do so love to kiss you there,” Halsin agreed as he adjusted himself to lean over Briar, bracketing them between his large, strong arms.

Briar found themself distracted by the feeling of something stiff against the curve of their inner thigh. “Where else?” Halsin asked.

“M-my stomach,” they whispered–not because they were shy–but because they were losing command of the parts of their mind that enabled them to speak. Something far more primal–far more wild–was taking over.

“You spoil me,” Halsin cooed. “Is that where you wish for me to stop?”

Briar shook their head, almost panting now. “Lower,” they said. “I want you to taste me.”

Halsin let out an aroused breath of his own, the exhale pulling a low growl along with it. “You are providing me with a veritable feast,” he rumbled. “How lucky for me that it shall leave us both sated.”

Halsin closed the distance that still remained between the two of them and pressed a soft kiss to Briar’s parted lips. It was a gentle one–they always started gentle, Briar had learned. Their lower lip was captured between halsin’s. Briar brushed the tip of their tong against the edge of Halsin’s upper lip, and Halsin renewed the kiss again, rolling his insistent tongue into their mouth.

Briar’s voice sounded–trilling and reedy. They set their hands on Halsin’s shoulders and smoothed them over the curving musculature of his arms. Their thumb brushed over the prominent vein on the inside of his bicep–a little detail they’d often fixated on back before they’d known Halsin desired them in the same way.

Briar seized his lower lip between their teeth and suckled on the supple curve of it, drawing a delightful growl from the archdruid. Halsin’s hands smoothed pleasantly heavy paths over Briar’s sides, his palms digging into the softer planes of their body, his thumbs gently pressing against the crests of their hip bones.

Briar let out a soft, melodic sound as they exhaled through their nose, long lashes fluttering as they surrendered once again to the intoxicating feeling of being touched by Halsin. Each time they made love it was like being touched for the first time for Brair. Each time was just as thrilling as the first time.

Halsin parted from the kiss and brushed the tip of his nose against Briar’s, smiling contentedly before continuing. He kissed the gentle curve of Briars cheek, the point where their neck met the elegant column of their neck, the hollow of their collar bone, the sloping curve of their chest.

Briar let out a soft breath, the heat in their stomach starting to spread in a tingling ripple through their body. That heat traveled to the tips of their toes, the ends of their fingers, the shell of their ears. Their freckled skin donned a rosy, bronze flush across their shoulders; their cheeks. That same heat caused their slackened lips to swell and made the soft mounds of their nipples blissfully sensitive as Halsin captured one of them between his lips.

Briar inhaled sharply as that gentle sensation came to a sharpened crescendo when Halsin gently caught the hardening bud between his teeth.

They combed their fingers through Halsin’s loose hair, gathering some of it in their hand as they looked at him with hooded eyes. Halsin met that gaze, his own eyes full of tantalizing promise as he parted from Briar’s chest.

“You set my skin ablaze when you look at me like that, my heart,” he said as he moved to the so-far-neglected nipple and kissed it noisily. “It makes me want to devour you.”

Briar let out a soft breath, watching intently as Halsin did a slow, lazy roll of his tongue over their nipple. “Perhaps I want to be devoured,” they said breathlessly.

Halsin only smiled and planted another noisy kiss at the tip of their sternum. To the soft slope of their belly…the mound of their pelvis… the sensitive skin of their inner thigh. Each one bringing him further and further down Briar’s body and closest to the most sacred of places.

“My own private altar of worship,” Halsin said, his voice the powerful rumble of a rockslide; the suffocating thrill of an avalanche. “How blessed I am to be allowed here, to look upon you in all of the beauty you are.”

Briar felt the gust of Halsin’s warm breath against their swollen arousal. The anticipation of what would come next was enough to make their lithe body arch and squirm; the heat in their stomach becoming the rush of a leap from atop a great summit.

Halsin’s large hands smoothed from their backside to the back of each of Briar’s knees. His touch was gentle, yet insistent as he hooked each knee over his broad shoulders.

A little sound escaped Briar’s lips involuntarily; something somewhere between a moan and a whimper–a sound of distress and a sound of need.

“Patience, lover,” Halsin said, his tongue sounding wet in the well of his mouth. “I wish to savor you as only I might.”

But Briar didn’t have patience–they didn’t want to wait any longer. They wanted to feel Halsin’s mouth upon them–feel what it was to be devoured by him. It was a little death they wanted to experience again and again.

Briar smoothed both of their hands back into Halsin’s hair, balling their slender fingers just above his pointed ears. They looked down to see Halsin staring up at them–the look in his eyes equal parts warning and indulgence.

“Please,” Briar whispered, soft as a prayer.

Halsin gave a gravelly chuckle as he lowered his mouth to them and closed his mouth around the center of Briar’s focus.

Briar let out a sweet sound of relief as they rolled their hips against Halsin’s soft lips. Their thighs squeezed tighter around Halsin’s head, already feeling overstimulated as Halsin’s tongue stroked them in slow, practiced paths. Halsin let out a satiated noise, the sound vibrating through their center.

It was easy to enjoy Halsin’s attention–after all, he was more than practiced after three centuries of life. Still, Briar was eager–perhaps too much so–too ready to reach a climax as soon as the experience started. As they rolled their hips into Halsin’s mouth again, the druid placed one firm hand on the flat plane of their pelvis and pressed down with gentle strength, grounding the smaller elf and enforcing the leisurely pace he so enjoyed.

He tasted them deeply; slowly, from base to agonizingly sensitive tip, lingering to suckle as his eyes closed in his own ecstasy.

Briar tried to buck like a wild horse, but Halsin’s hand remained an ever-present anchor.

“Halsin,” Briar begged. “Please, I want more…”

With his free hand, he reached up to dip the tip of his middle finger into Briar’s mouth, collecting moisture from the pool of saliva gathered beneath their tongue. Briar closed their lips around the digit, suckling at it once, twice. Then they grasped his wrist and pulled the hand far enough away to kiss the fingertip.

“Not that,” they said, knowing full well how he planned to use that prepped finger. Halsin always prioritized their pleasure when they shared these intimate moments together. There were times Briar allowed it–and there were times Briar found their own pleasure in giving Halsin his. “I want to taste you too,” they clarified.

Halsin freed his preoccupied tongue to look up at them, his eyes dark with primal hunger. “Are you sure, my heart?” he asked. “I’m not sure I’ll be able to control myself–it’s already overwhelming enough to taste the promise of your pleasure on my tongue.”

“I’m sure,” they said.

His brows dipped slightly. “I may become rougher with you than I intend to.”

Briar’s heart raced and they swallowed as their mouth became dry at the thought of it.

As much as Briar loved that Halsin was such a gentle giant, they couldn’t help but thrill at the idea of the chase–at the idea of such primal, carnal enjoyment. The idea of Halsin losing his control because of them….well it was almost enough to render them into a puddle.

“I think I’ll like that,” Briar admitted in a timid whisper.

Halsin’s brow lifted and his head cocked back in surprise. “Is that right?” he said with a sharpened smile.

Halsin scooped his arms under Briar, supporting their back and lifting them up with ease. Briar yelped, fingers tangling even tighter into Halsin’s hair as he unceremoniously rearranged their bodies to a more comfortable position–a position more conducive to…mutual feasting.

Halsin chuckled before pressing a wet kiss to Briar’s aching arousal. It was everything they could do to stop themselves from crumbling in Halsin’s arms.

“I would never drop you, my heart,” he said, lips still brushing distractingly against the tender skin.

He continued to cradle them as he laid himself down, letting his back hit the grassy ground in a soft thud as he helped Briar recalibrate themselves.

Halsin was so tall that it took some adjusting. For a moment, Briar wasn’t sure they would be able to taste the swollen length of Halsin’s erection–even with its more than generous size. But once again, Halsin’s many years of experience came into play. He adjusted the height and placement of Briar’s hips in such a way that, when they pressed together, belly-to-belly, Briar had perfect access to Halsin’s magnificent cock.

They salivated as they grasped his girth in their hand. His cock twitched faintly and Halsin let out a startled sound against Briar. Briar felt the faint mischievous curl of their own lips, pleased to hear him react to them.

There was a brief moment where they relished the thought of rendering Halsin into a whimpering mess–a moment where the idea of conquering a man like Halsin in mind, body and spirit felt like the tantalizing promise of a good hunt; a good chase.

But all thoughts, all ideas of scrappy dominance, eddied out of their mind when Halsin swirled his tongue against the sensitive opening of their backside. Briar’s hand tightened around Halsin as their whole body when feverish and alert, their thighs tense where they bracketed Halsin against the ground.

It took them a moment to find the will to think and move again. Halsin was devouring them like it was the first meal he’d had in days. But finally, Briar’s own hunger took over the buoyant sensation in their body. They hummed as they took Halsin into their mouth, tasting the sweet nectar that had already started to collect at the tip.

Briar’s long lashes fluttered as they started to slowly take more and more of Halsin within their mouth. At the same time, Halsin started to gently stroke between Briar’s legs, adding a new wave of pleasure to the already pleasant heat; the feeling of being filled by the one they loved.

Briar intensified the suction around Halsin, eagerly fitting as much of him in their mouth as they could.

It was when the tip of Halsin’s cock brushed against the tender opening at the back of their throat that things changed.

A hungry growl came from Halsin’s mouth. He sounded more beast than man in that moment–then he put his free hand on the back of Briar’s head and thrusted the whole of his length into the poor fox’s mouth, curving into the opening of their throat as they choked around it.

As Halsin retreated, tears gathered at the corners of Briar’s eyes as they gasped in through their nose. They were not tears of distress, though; no, a pleasant lightness took over them as Halsin’s hand roughly curled into their hair, holding them still as he did another unrelenting thrust into their throat.

Gods, this was heaven–to have Halsin lose control–to feel the wild nature of him in such a visceral, connected way. It was pure bliss.

Briar forgot about their own stimulation, settling their body fully down on Halsin’s as he tangled his other hand in their hair.

The pace quickened; Halsin making love to Briar’s mouth the same way he made love to the rest of them every time they indulged in each other’s body: with tender devotion and enraptured abandon.

“Your mouth–My heart–gods it feels as if it were made for me,” Halsin grunted with some effort. “And seeing you get your pleasure from giving me mine–to feel you hot and wet against my skin…it’s maddening…”

Briar heaved out a dreamy sigh as Halsin inserted himself into their mouth again, all the way to the hilt. And despite the fact that Halsin had stopped his direct stimulation of Briar’s body, they felt the impending crash of their climax heading for them like a storm about to make landfall.

That spring coiled tighter and tighter every time Briar felt the intoxicating sensation of Halsin’s cock in their throat.

Halsin’s breaths started to come out as shudders.

“My heart…” he said in a tremulous voice. “Gods, Briar–you’re a wonder–I’m–”

Halsin snarled and turned his head, biting onto Briar’s inner thigh as he did two thrusts in quick succession. The pain mixed with the pleasure of Halsin’s generous words and the way he so adoringly made love to their mouth was enough to send Briar over the edge.

They whimpered as they came even as they remained untouched by Halsin, their pleasure dripping out of them as Halsin did one final press up and into their mouth, spilling his own seed into the back of their throat as he gasped and panted.

He thrust twice more, wringing the last bits of pleasure out of himself before retreating fully out of Briar’s mouth.

As soon as he did, he gathered the smaller elf into his arms, cradling them close and nuzzling into the hollow of their neck; kissing the soft part of their throat like it was an ache he could heal that way. Those same hands that had just been tangled in Briar’s hair, now smoothed that hair away from their face before cupping their cheek in his hand.

“Forgive me, dear one–I fear I neglected you in my own distraction,” he cooed, his voice thick and sweet as honey. “Are you alright?”

“I’m perfect,” Briar sighed, smiling dreamily.

Halsin chuckled and nuzzled his nose against theirs. “You’re right,” he said sweetly. “You are. In every way.”

Briar felt the warmth of love fill their heart to the brim, as they always did after a roll in the grass with Halsin. He was such a giving lover and it was so easy to get as lost in his body as he got lost in Briar’s own. It was impossible not to feel the glow of love.

“We should get a bath,” Halsin said. “And perhaps some breakfast.”

“I’m already quite full, thank you,” Briar said sleepily. “And I like being a mess because of you.”

Halsin gave Briar a cheeky smile and gently pinched their nose between his thumb and forefinger. “I feel the same, my heart,” he said. “But as we near the coast, it’s getting more and more likely that we will encounter others on the path, and I don’t want to share this vision of you with anyone else…unless you have a desire to, of course.”

Briar sighed and nodded. “I suppose I dont,” they said. “I think there was a lake not far from here. A bit north of the old castle–the one with those stuffy librarians.”

“The Scribe’s Perch, it’s called,” Halsin said helpfully. “And I believe you’re right–a hot spring is over there.”

“Ah–it’s been too long since I’ve soaked in a hot spring,” Briar said. “Let’s go right now.”

Halsin chuckled and nodded. “Alright.”

The two druids got themselves up and did themselves the courtesy of at least wiping down with a bit of water from their waterskins before dressing in their leathers. Briar helped Halsin fasten the leather straps around his biceps and Halsin saw to re-lacing Briar’s hastily removed boots.

They packed up their tent and their supplies and started making their way south, the promise of a warm soak enough to keep Briar’s mood fairly light and buoyant.

At least, that was until they got a few minutes into their travels and heard the cry of a worried, panicked man somewhere ahead on the rocky paths of the forests.

“Elinna?!” The voice called, sounding very clearly distressed. “Elinna! Where are you?”

Briar looked up at Halsin and found a familiar expression there. It was one of worry on behalf of another. Briar knew Halsin well enough at this point that he was never one to look the other way when someone was in distress–unless it was a goblin, of course.

Halsin looked down at them and Briar gave him an encouraging nod. “Let’s go help,” Briar said. “It sounds like someone may be lost.”

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amandacanwrite · 9 months ago

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The Violet Thread of Fate ||

Reluctant Mentor Gale x Unskilled Wizard F!Tav

Length || About 4,000 Words

POV || Dual Narration, Third Person

Warnings || Descriptions of viscera, age gap (about ten years, both adults)

Summary || After waking up on the craggy shoreline of the sword coast, Elinna and Gale reunite with a new common ground.

A/n || I am feeling sort of on the fence about Gale's eagerness in his attraction to Elinna, but I also feel like it's still at least somewhat in character for him--after all in any playthrough you can wind up being blindsided by his feelings for you since he is usually so subtle about his affections. I also just think it's so fun to get the internal narration of Gale's attraction. He always seems so put together, polite and proper. I just love to see a man precariously balancing his carnal desires with his conscience and desire to be a good man. I hope you like it, I know things feel a little slow right now, but I'm planning on taking some creative liberties in the next couple parts. Please also lemme know what you think if you read it! I am absolutely tinkerbell and need the dopamine to live

Chapter Two: A Nightmare, An Awakening

Read Part One Here • Join Tag List Here

A Nightmare

Elinna thought she had died; thought the disintegration of her bodily form was the end of her short, unremarkable life. Much to her surprise, though when her vision once again returned to her she realized she had merely been spirited away somehow.

It took a few moments for her eyes to properly focus. When they finally did, she almost wished that the contact with the tentacle had killed her. It would have been far preferable to where she had wound up.

She found herself locked in a great chitinous pod, looking through smeared membranous glass at what she could only suppose was the nautiloid she had tried to escape from.

Yes…death would have been a far preferable fate to becoming a mindless thrall on a mindflayer ship. As she squinted through the clear panel in front of her and saw what appeared to be a brain walking on four spindly limbs, she realized that her fate could be even worse than regular enthrallment.

The minutes she spent entrapped in the pod felt like hours. A miserable limbo of wondering what would be coming next for her. What if she was already marked for turning into an intellect devourer? What if the enthrallment had already been put in place and she could simply be ordered to do something whenever a mindflayer so wished it?

She couldn’t just stay here. She had to move.

She tried, in vain, to wrench her arms free of the fleshy brindings within the pod. The sinuous tendrils only tightened more and more, leaving her fingertips throbbing and tingling from the blood flow being cut off. She tried to move her feet next and her boots sloshed in some sort of viscera at the base of the pod. She did her best not to vomit as the viscera eked some ichorous fluid into the fibers of her clothing and through the porous leather of her soft-soled shoes.

The last thing she needed in addition to all of this was to be covered in the contents of her own stomach–empty as it was.

The shock of panic cinched tight around her ribcage, making it hard to breathe. And as she struggled to get her lungs to fill, she also struggled to think.

“Calm down, Elinna,” she told herself. “Think about what you’ve read. Think about what you know.”

What did she know about Illithids? They were hivemind organisms. They required high-moisture, high-humidity environments to protect the mucosal membranes of their skin. They primarily fed on the brains of their prey and used psionic energy not only to fight but to control their biomechanical machinery.

She craned her head forward to look for some sort of control panel–something that could get her out of this cocoon of horror.

As she did, a valve-like door opened on the far side of the room, revealing a dizzying network of corridors. And…and one of them. A mind flayer.

Elinna went dizzy as her heart thumped in her temples. She watched in horror and sickly anticipation as it levitated toward something in the center of the room; a cistern of sorts from what she could see. It waved a four-fingered hand and the vessel opened, revealing a golden, glowing brine pool that may have been beautiful if Elinna didn’t know precisely what it was.

The mindflayer coaxed one of those disgusting tadpoles out of the amber liquid and levitated over to Elinna’s pod. She recoiled away from it as the pod opened, turning her face away from the creature and squeezing her eyes shut. She knew exactly how mindflayers reproduced, and she was not interested in getting a first hand experience with ceremorphosis.

She didn’t have much of a choice, though. Even without the parasite, the illithid was able to compel her to stillness.

It was an atrocious violation of her agency; surreal and nightmarish in the worst ways. Her mind was fully intact as the creature made her muscles release the tension they held and coerced her eyes to open. Her body was still and calm, but her heart was racing like a trapped rabbit’s. She watched uselessly as the tiny creature floated closer to her. She cried to cry out as it latched onto the orb of her eye and started to wriggle and squirm until it could find purchase beneath her eyelid.

She was silent. Infuriatingly, horribly silent as the creature continued to burrow its way into her skull.

Her pulse hammered in her ears as she screamed inside her own body, begging herself to fight, to tear her own eye out rather than let the process of ceremorphosis take place.

But her body was still as the tiny parasite worked its way into her eye socket and back into her brain.

Elinna lost consciousness as she felt the unsettling pressure of her brain matter being displaced to accommodate her unwelcome guest.

When she awoke next, she didn’t immediately know where she was. She only knew that it was loud and it was cold. The sound of air ripping past her pointed ears is what brought her back into full consciousness, and though her eyes were open, she wasn’t actually seeing at first.

There was a vast expanse of stars above her, the smell of salty air, the lingering cling of something far more acrid–like the smell of burnt sulfur woven into her clothes.

She tried to parse what was going on, it felt like she was sinking into the ocean–but if that were the case, shouldn’t she not be able to breathe?

Then she saw the burning wreckage of the Nautiloid and everything came back to her.

The travel to Waterdeep, the encounter with Mr. Dekarios, the parasite and…

And she was falling through the sky!

“Not again!” she cried as she stared at the ground rising to meet her with startling velocity. “No, no, no! I will not–This is not how I die!”

It didn’t go very well the last time, but it wasn’t as if she had any other ideas of what to do. She scoped out the approaching shoreline, selecting one spot and earmarking it. After choosing a point on a craggy cliffside, she shut her eyes and tried to gulp in a breath before it was whipped out of her mouth.

“Inveniam Viam!” she shouted.

That strange, surreal feeling of not moving, yet being in a different place came again, only this time it was followed very quickly by the feeling smashing into the ground beneath her, square onto her back. It wasn’t a far drop, perhaps only a few feet, but it was enough to hurt her. She blinked up at the sky above her, the glow of the stars somewhat dampened by the flaming wreckage of the nautiloid as it loudly crashed into the earth just a few moments after her.

She ached as she stood and looked out over the cliffside she’d misty stepped to, seeing the vast expanse of an unfamiliar coast crawling with intellect devourers and the blazing with fires choking out great plumes of black smoke. She dropped to her knees, feeling utterly defeated.

She had no idea where she was. She had no money. No food. Not even a change of clothes with her. She didn’t even know where she was–and she knew she was more than a little directionally challenged.

Her keepers at The Scribes Nest had told her not to leave; had warned her that there were dangers in the world. That she couldn’t hope to survive on the knowledge she’d amassed from books alone. That the lives of wizards often ended in folly.

She knew this, of course. She’d read extensively about every wizard she could find and more than half of them were done in by their own curiosity.

But the ones who hadn’t been rendered themselves undone…they were amazing. Elminster and Blackstaff. Lorroikan and Sammaster. Karsus and Dekarios.

Wait….

Gale Dekarios–he’d been touched by the tentacles, too!

And if she hadn’t died, then that meant he probably hadn’t either. If she could find him, if she could just appeal to him for one favor…maybe he could help her get back to Waterdeep. Maybe she would have an opportunity to prove to him that she could be a good apprentice; that she was worth the trouble of taking on as a student. Maybe he would know how to get rid of the tadpole squirming in her brain.

But none of that would happen if she just sat there on her knees and despaired.

She would need to get back up and put one bloody boot in front of the other.

She would have to be brave and she would have to trust that Mystra would guide her to what came next.

An Awakening

Hells…it just had to be a pocket dimension that saved him, didn’t it?

They were tricky little things–a slice of wild magic that functioned like an oubliette; a place to put things to be forgotten, or to be summoned at a different point in time. He’d used a few in his time, but never for more than storage during travel or to hide the occasional failed potion. He’d thought once that he might use one when it was clear that the orb would no longer be sated by the magic artifacts he consumed; discussed the idea with Tara before she requested not to speak of it until necessary.

“I don’t like think of that eventuality, Mr. Dekarios,” Tara had said to him. “I know I tend to be pragmatic…but it makes me far too sad.”

“Focus,” he scolded himself as he looked around the darkened pocket. He needed to find an opening–or at least find a way to make one, failing that.

It was a mistake that he’d even ended up in one in the first place. A mistake that stemmed from the first mistake when he’d tried to help that girl.

If he’d had any sense, he would have let her run and gone straight to help his mother and make sure Tara would be okay. He could only hope that they were still safely nestled at his childhood home in Waterdeep. At least he’d not seen either of them during his wanderings about the ship.

But then the spelljammer had lurched and started falling out of the sky, and he’d grabbed onto the strongest strand of weave he could find and followed it here. The unfortunate side of that, of course, was that the strength of that thread is precisely what made this particular pocket realm exceedingly hard to get out of. And the parasite so rudely deposited into his brain was not doing wonders for his ability to concentrate.

He held his hands up and closed his eyes, attempting to feel out the strands of weave in this darkened place. Wherever he’d been transported to, it felt very far away from Mystra indeed. Like whatever reality he’d blipped into was one almost entirely devoid of magic at all.

He focused a bit harder, the tadpole in his head wriggling with the effort. He continued to focus, trying not to think too hard about the unnerving sensation. Finally, with some challenge, he managed to pool some magic together. It felt similar to trying to collect enough morning dew on a leaf to drink.

There came a crackle, then a tear. Not nearly large enough to fit himself entirely through, but enough that he could get an arm out.

Perhaps with at least one hand in Faerun, he could channel whatever remaining weave he needed to fully escape this dark corner of nothing.

A sheen of perspiration shone on his brow as he felt around outside of the oubliette. He could feel the familiar moisture of coastal air and it sent a wave of relief through him. He wasn’t far from Waterdeep at all, then. Or at least he’d hoped as much.

Perhaps he could just appear on the main road and hurry straight to his mother to make sure that she and Tara were alright.

He was trying to grasp onto the weave when he suddenly felt the soft, almost tentative brush of fingertips on the palm of his hand.

A person! Perfect! There was no better way to anchor a teleportation spell than to another living soul. It would be a little complex to explain that, though, and he was sure a mysterious arm poking out of wherever he could reach was more than a little unnerving so he settled for simplicity instead.

“Hello?!” He called through the tear in the fabric of space and time. “Is anyone there? A hand? Please?”

He felt the hand withdraw for a moment, then it returned with what he assumed was the person’s other hand. One closed tightly around his fingers, the other grasped a bit higher, accompanied by the sensation of fingertips curling into the fabric of his sleeve. Small, gentle hands. Not small enough to be a child–but perhaps a woman.

He closed his eyes once more and took a deep breath, allowing himself to feel the energy of the stranger on the other side of the opening. He tapped into it, smelling the faint, sweetly lactic scent of peaches; tasting on the tip of his tongue the light flavor of…honeyscotch candy. If Mystra’s energy was violet in color…this energy was the color of the sky during sunrise…a gradient of lilac, rose and cerulean.

Pretty… he thought to himself before slamming the heel of his hand to his brow.

Focus you touch-starved buffoon.

“Whatever you’re doing is working wonders!” he said encouragingly. “I think if you just give me a good pull, I should come right out!”

The stranger pulled and he joined that effort by pushing himself through from the other side with what remained of that pooled bit of magic he’d gathered together.

Finally, he flew out of the pocket realm like a cork from a bottle, regrettably landing right on top of the poor woman who had helped him.

He was quick to shift his weight so he didn’t put the entirety of his considerable heft on the poor thing. Yet, his creaky knees slowed him down when it came to properly getting up. Then again…he couldn’t deny a certain reluctance to rise. He hated to admit it, and if anyone ever asked him he would deny it to the grave…but it was pleasant to feel the soft curves of a woman against him. A year was such a long time to be without it, and to feel warmth beneath him again…

It was a lascivious thought not becoming of a gentleman, he remembered, but one that occurred almost automatically much to his chagrin.

“Hells,” he said. “Forgive me miss. I’m usually much better at this–and usually not so long sedentary that my limbs can’t keep up with my manners. Allow me to–”

He lifted himself up onto his elbows and finally laid eyes on his savior.

It was the girl from before. What was the name? Elinna Inklynn.

She stared up at him with wide eyes and a face flushed with exertion. How hard had she needed to work to pull him out of that portal? Seeing her so close now, he picked up on some of the qualities he’d missed in the dim light of the Waterdhavian evening.

A constellation of mauve-tinged freckles dusted across her flushed nose and cheeks. In the daylight, her skin was almost pale pink. The soft swell of her lips sat slightly parted with a look of surprise. And her eyes…my those eyes were something to behold. Verdant as a sprig of mint and flecked with gold as if she had a vein of ore curling through the irises of her eyes.

“A-allow me to help you up,” he finally stammered. “You’re not hurt are you?”

“Not by you,” she said somewhat breathlessly.

He grunted slightly as he got back onto his feet, now allowing himself to think of the way her soft curves shifted beneath him. He reached a hand down and helped her back up to her feet as well, dusting off her theadbare apron and her slightly puffed sleeves. She was still flushed–perhaps dehydration or fever…or…

“You haven’t happened to have been on the receiving end of a rather unwelcome insertion in the ocular region, have you?” he asked.

The flush could be a sign of the beginning stages of ceremorphosis.

“I couldn’t have phrased it more repellently myself,” Elinna replied.

“No use sugarcoating it, is there?” he asked with a smirk. “I don’t suppose you know what these little passengers will cause if left to their own devices?”

“Ceremorphosis,” she answered without missing a beat. “At least��if we don’t get it handled in a few days…”

Well, color him surprised.

It wasn’t very often that ceremorphosis was talked about among the common man–it was even hard to find books detailing the finer details of the process. The girl may have been a poor magician, but she was clearly learned.

“Suffice to say, it is a process that should be avoided,” he said.

“Agreed,” she said.

It occurred to him that she was behaving…a bit stiff; almost aloof. The young woman he’d encountered in front of his tower had a bit more fire to her than this one did. Then again, they’d just gone through quite the harrowing experience. Both of them were covered in mysterious viscera, they’d been taken hostage on a mindflayer ship and well–the poor girl did just have a strange older man on top of her.

The girl bit down on her lower lip and he found his eyes unconscionably glued to her mouth. She released her lower lip and he watched as the pale pink color returned to it, wondering idly what it would feel like to–

“Are we just—are we just going to pretend that I didn’t beg you to take me on as an apprentice and that you quite sumerilly told me to bugger off?” she asked. “Are we just going to be compatriots now?”

He blinked down at her, his mind catching up with her words.

Good gods, he really was behaving like a lech. He didn’t know where this was coming from. Perhaps it was an undocumented symptom of ceremorphosis–this…uncommon desire he was feeling.

Or maybe he was just, well, desperate.

“Well, I take umbrage with that analysis. I don’t believe I told you to bugger off…At least not verbatim. I do try to not be a miserable ass,” Gale said a bit sheepishly. “But I hasten to point out that we do have a shared problem now–some common ground we didn’t have before. It seems wasteful to part ways at a juncture such as this, don’t you think?”

He looked around in the early morning daylight and frowned realizing that he didn’t recognize anything. “I certainly don’t know the area after all, and judging by the history you disclosed with me, you likely don’t either.”

“Well…no, I don’t. Aside from Waterdeep I’ve not been anywhere other than the Moonshae Islands.” she said.

“And you seem to not have a very strong sense of location judging by our time in the alleyways,” he pointed out.

“That’s true…so then… does that mean you’ll do it?” she asked. “You’ll take me on as your student?”

He grimmaced.

“No,” he said with not a moment’s hesitation. “Not a student–an ally. An equal. It’s best that we tackle this issue together, don’t you think? It makes no sense to travel separately when our searching will likely lead us to the same places. And besides that…”

Besides that, if he started to change into a mindflayer, he wanted to be sure he had someone nearby who could…put him out of his misery and get his body somewhere safe before it leveled a city.

“But I could be more helpful if you teach me,” she pleaded. “I’d just be a liability without your help.”

“I have seen your magic,” Gale said with a bit of a teasing gaze. “And I don’t know if there is much I can do for someone who casts Misty Step with their eyes closed. It seems you’d be more of a liability with the magic than without.”

She blinked up at him like he’d grown a second head.

“Oh, please,” he said. “You must know that it’s a spell that requires a clear line of sight.”

She shrank a bit. “I…didn’t know. No,” she said.

“How could you not know such a thing? You must have read a scroll to learn the incantation,” he said.

“I mean this with the utmost respect, but when is the last time you’ve read a scroll, Mr. Dekarios?”

He inhaled, lifting an index finger. Then he closed his mouth and looked off to the side.

When was the last time? It must have been ages.

“Well,” she said without waiting for his answer. “Most spell scrolls assume a certain basis of classical training, or at minimum an innate understanding of how to channel the weave.”

“I see,” he said. “I’m to assume you’re not a sorceress then?”

“Not to my knowledge,” she said with a sigh.

He clenched his jaw as he looked down at the younger woman. Gods, she really did need a teacher. Maybe he could at least talk to her about theory–or give her a few simple exercises for manipulating the–

No. No.

He had more than enough on his plate without adding a poorly self-taught mage to it.

“Elinna,” he said. “Tell you what. I have a deal to offer–a concession if your like. If we make it through this and…make it out of wherever we are and back to Waterdeep, I promise I will introduce you to some colleagues that will help you get your start as a novice wizard. How does that sound? Fair?”

To his great surprise, she still looked disappointed by that answer. The girl really was an ambitious thing–coming right to his tower to seek his tutelage and no one else's? The poor girl had no idea what she was trying to sign herself up for; a depressed, anti-social, explosive wizard. A depressed, anti-social, explosive and impatient wizard. As far as teachers went, he was not the best candidate for the job.

“Alright,” she finally said. “Let’s see if we can go find a healer together…or maybe some other survivors…of a bath.”

“Oh, to find a bath,” Gale agreed. “Ah, but–before you think you’re journeying with most ill mannered a man–”

Gale gave the young woman a slight bow. “Thank you for pulling me out of that stone.”

When he stood up to his full height again, the young woman was smiling at him, her pretty viridian eyes crinkling at the edges. She tucked a pale copper strand of hair behind one of her delicately pointed ears and looked a bit sheepishly down the craggy shore.

“Ah–it’s almost a dead end over here–I think there might be more ground to cover if we cross through the wreckage…but I didn’t want to do that on my own,” she said.

“A wise choice, I think,” Gale said. “No telling what you would have run into. Not to imply that you can’t hold your own, of course–”

“No, you’re right,” she said, looking away from him a little timidly. “I’ll feel better with you there–it’s nice to have a friend.”

He huffed a soft breath and found himself smiling at how willing she was to call him her friend. Even after all the ways he had been a bit of an oaf to her, he felt in her he had found a bit of a kindred spirit. Someone else who sought camaraderie in perhaps…unworthy places.

She looked up at him and bit the swell of her lower lip again. “Shall we go then?” she asked him.

He gestured to the road ahead. “After you,” he said with a magnanimous smile. “Consider me your ever faithful guard dog, ready at the first sign of trouble.”

She snorted a little laugh and shook her head.

And as he followed after her, for the first time in the last year, he hoped the pang in his chest was because of the orb.

Taglist || @auroraesmeraldarose @thoughts-of-bear @cherifrog @puckprimrose @drabblesandimagines

#writing #authors #writeblr #my writing #bg3 #romantasy #writers on tumblr #writing community #bg3 fanfic #gale fanfic #gale headcannons #gale x tav #student x teacher #professor! gale #Gale dekarios #dekarios clan #violet thread of fate

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amandacanwrite · 9 months ago

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I added Minthara to my camp in my Elinna x Gale play through and I had no idea that you can ask her to read your entire camp for filth.

Like this bitch with her old-lady voice rwally came up in here, took one look around, and sussed out everyone’s problems in a single glance.

I HAVE NEVER laughed so hard.

And of course she loves karlach.

#bg3 minthara #bg3 #baldursgate3

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amandacanwrite · 3 months ago

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Violet Thread of Fate || Part Twelve : The Weave

Other Chapters || Join Taglist || Requests Open || Subscribe on AO3

Pairing || Elinna Inklynn (Half-drow tav) and Gale Dekarios. Briar Larklight (Gender Neutral Tav) x Halsin

Length || 4,300-ish Words

Scenario || In an alternative timeline for the events of BG3 Elinna Inklynn, an orphan from the Moonshae Islands seeks out the tutelage of accomplished wizard Gale Dekarios of Waterdeep. She has a knack with the Weave, but no money or connections to actually learn how to harness it. She has heard the wizard is a gentleman and a schollar, and hopes she can appeal to him to take her on as his apprentice in exchange for her help around his tower, with his research, and in running errands in Waterdeep. Unfortunately for her, Gale Dekarios does not take on apprentices.

Warnings || Age gap (Perhaps about 10ish years.) Description of scarring from corporal punishment. Mature themes. Shared memories of neglect and abuse. Descriptions of kissing.

A/N|| Hope you guys enjoyed this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it. If anyone has played BG3 you guys probably know what's about to come from Gale's side of the lanceboard, hohoho.

Comments and screaming reblogs are always appreciated, they let me know people are actually reading and enjoying these silly little stories I'm throwing together. No pressure, of course--Just know when you do I'm kicking my feet and giggling at each and every one! I hope the upcoming labor day (if you're in the US) treats you well.

Hopefully I will have another chapter for you very soon.

Taglist || @softvampirewhump @horizonstride @thoughts-of-bear @mymybirdie @tiedyedghoulette

@drabblesandimagines @madwomansapologist @hijirikaww @tryingtowritestuff24 @laserlope

@auroraesmeraldarose @puckprimrose @dont-try-pesticide @cherifrog @circusofthelastdays

@nourangul @crucibelle @fan-aaa-tic @listen-to-navi@spillthetaesissy

@sammywasnthere

@vermililion @weaponizedvirtue @leucineinthesky

Elinna sniffed, wiping an unwanted tear away from her face.

She hated that her body responded to anger with tears. It was this very thing that prevented her from ever being taken seriously at The Nest, and now it was preventing her from even having a say with her traveling companions.

She wished he had more to pack. The truth was, she didn’t want to go to the Underdark alone. She didn’t want to separate from Gale or the others.

While she felt foolish for so immediately changing tune after promising Gale that she didn’t mind if her locket was ruined; that she wouldn’t mind if she never met her mother. Could she really be blamed for it?

She picked up her bag and hitched it onto her shoulders, turning to leave the room.

As she did, the door opened and Gale appeared.

He closed the door behind him and leaned against it, crossing his arms–blocking her exit. He inclined his head besetting her with a sort of…warning look, one a teacher might give an overstepping student; his lips quirked to the side and his thick brows rose, creasing his brow in such a way that it betrayed his age.

The reminder of that disparity between them twisted uncomfortably in her gut for some reason she couldn’t name. Or perhaps preferred not to name.

“Don’t try to stop me,” Elinna said, hating how her voice warbled.

“I’m not here to stop you–” Gale said. “Well, I am; but not from going to the Underdark. I’m trying to stop you from leaving now.”

“I told you, I’m not going to risk waiting longer–”

“You are fantastically stubborn, do you know that?” He said.

“I don’t–” Elinna started.

“Elinna!” he said with an exasperated sigh. “Would you please listen?”

Elinna bit down on her lower lip, looking properly chastened. Silence fell between them for a few long moments.

Gale sighed and stepped off from where he leaned on the door, closing the small distance between them with two steps.

Elinna could feel the warmth of his body as he lingered in front of her, his head still dropping and enabling him to keep his gaze on her. She felt warmth creeping up her nape as he looked at her and found herself unable to meet his warm chestnut gaze, feeling like she might drown in it if she risked it.

“Will you come with me for a walk?” He asked. “I want to talk to you. Preferably away from three traveling companions with abnormally keen hearing.”

She finally took a hesitant look up at him, and found his full lips curved in a patient smile.

“It has been…let’s see–five days since I’ve had the pleasure of your conversation,” he said. “I’d like to remedy that, if you’d allow it.

“You don’t have to pretend to enjoy my prattling,” Elinna said, dropping her gaze once more. “I know you indulge me at best.”

“Where did this sullenness come from? Not an hour ago you were telling me that I was your present,” he teased. “I thought I was one of the few who cared. Has your opinion of me changed so quickly?”

She felt her face warm more, this time paired with guilt for her sudden turn of attitude.

Elinna’s eyes burned again and another tear fell onto her face.

Gale clicked his tongue and lifted his calloused hand, swiping the wetness away with the pad of his thumb. She looked up at him again, green eyes meeting his own and not looking away for once.

“No more of that, please,” he said, his voice low, his eyes full of…something. “I still owe you a proper apology for the day I was terrible to you. Unfortunately you have been very unconscious. So please. A walk.”

Elinna took a deep breath, thinking it through. She didn’t need to think for very long at all. She slid her pack off of her shoulders and gave it a toss onto her still-unmade bed. She couldn’t tell for sure, but she thought Gale heaved a sigh of relief.

He offered her his bent arm, just as he had when he’d introduced her to Halsin, Briar and Astarion. Part of her wanted to read into the gesture; she’d seen the well-to-do boys in Moonshae walk like that with the young ladies they courted. She remembered wishing a boy would offer her an arm like that.

The boys in the tavern only ever offered her a night in their beds; and that was if they were the polite ones. Now a fully grown man stood in front of her, offering her this small intimacy that she had pined for, in secret, for years.

She wondered if Gale knew what he was doing to her poor heart. Perhaps he just thought that it was obvious that he would never take an interest in her; at least not romantically. Whatever the case, it was the sweetest sort of torture to wonder what thoughts went through his head; if he carried the same sort of interest in her as she did in him.

She slipped her hand onto the crook of his arm and he smiled wider, a flash of perfect teeth showing. “Excellent,” he said. “Now, close your eyes for just a moment.”

“Why?” Elinna asked.

“Because I said so,” he teased, lifting his free hand and giving her a playful flick on her nose. “Close them.”

Elinna finally snorted a laugh, rubbing the affronted spot. She acquiessed, closing her eyes, though she had a hard time hiding the smile that threatened to make a home on her lips.

“That’s better,” he said warmly.

Elinna felt a sort of building of energy; a bit of a buzzing crackle in the air that made it taste a little stale; smell like the wind before a crack of lightning struck.

And then the faint brush of a breeze through the loose, curling tendrils of her hair.

“Open them, if you like,” Gale said.

Her eyes fluttered open and she found herself standing beside Gale. A silvery pond slept nearby, seemingly fed by a babbling brook that had burst through the ground from a spring somewhere below. They were all shaded by the blue-green branches of willow trees, swaying in the wind as Elinna’s hair had. Lily pads peppered the pond, and once in a while, a fish would break the surface of the water to snatch some unseen insect or speck of algae floating above it.

Beneath their feet, a dirt path that led through the trunks of the willows, inviting them to continue on. She looked up at Gale and he gestured ahead with his free hand. “Shall we?”

Elinna nodded and they began to walk.

“Your absence gave me much to think about, Elinna,” he said.

“It must have given you the chance to hear your own thoughts,” she mumbled under her breath.

“Stop that,” he said, bumping her wish his shoulder. “Self-doubt is almost as unbecoming on you as it is on me.”

Is that what this was? Self doubt?

Now that he’d given the feeling a name, she supposed that was exactly what it was.

“You don’t think I can hold my own,” Elinna said by way of explaining her moping. “None of you do.”

“Objectively, you can’t–” he started.

“So then can you blame me?” She interrupted.

“No–I don’t blame you, and that was the point I was trying to get to, if you’d give me the chance,” he said. “You were right, down at that table–when you said that no one was giving you the help you needed to hold your own. And perhaps most right in that regard when it came to my own contributions.”

“You don’t have an interest in acting as a mentor to me–if anything has become clear to me since we started our…alliance…it’s that,” she said.

“The reasons for my not taking on apprentices are complex, Elinna,” he said. “But they become even more complex when it comes to your tutelage, specifically.”

“Why?” she asked.

“Because the dynamic between a master and an apprentice is one with a power imbalance. In particular, it would put me in the position of your superior,” he said. “And I…find myself not wanting to impose such a power imbalance on my relationship with you. I would rather have you as an equal, if I’m honest.”

Elinna’s expression fell, her head glancing askance as she tried not to let Gale see it. Her thoughts started tangling into a mess of disappointment and self-pity. If only he realized that in spite of what he wished when it came to the dynamic between them, he would always be her superior. He would always be unreachable to her, in more ways than one–in more ways than he could ever truly know.

“But,” he continued. “There is nothing to say that I can’t teach an equal magic that they don’t know.”

Elinna’s mind came to a screeching halt as she whipped her head to look up at Gale again. He was already looking sidelong down at her, his eyes narrowed knowingly, his lips tugged up into a bit of a cheeky smirk.

“Y-you–you–” Elinna stammered.

“Yes?” Gale said, sounding all too pleased with her speechlessness.

“I–” Elinna started once more, huffing out a breath. “Well–”

“I do so love when I get to render someone speechless, especially one so talkative as you,” Gale said. “Take it slowly, Elinna–”

“You…” Elinna said, her voice becoming heavy, forcing herself to form a sentence. “You are a bastard.”

Gale gaped, expression aghast. “Excuse me?!” he retorted. “I offer to teach you magic and you call me, of all things, a bastard?!”

“You knew exactly what you were doing–”

“I was giving you good news with a bit of dramatic timing,” he said. “ Have you never heard of a surprise?! Elminster’s growling gut–I didn’t even know you were capable of language like that!”

“I spent all of my free time singing for coin in taverns! Of course I’m capable of such language!” Elinna said. “You were playing with my emotions! And that makes you a bastard!”

“Elinna, I am going to teach you magic. Can we stay on topic, please?” Gale said, a curve to his lips despite the sudden onset of an argument. “We can continue the debate on whether or not I am a bastard after your first lesson!”

“I hasten to point out that you were the one who got us so off topic,” Elinna said.

“Elinna,” he said. “Focus.”

Elinna pressed her lips together, not wanting to reward him with a smile–not when it would make him feel so pleased with himself all over again. All the same, she couldn’t help that her own lips started to curve.

“Are you going to teach me my first lesson now?” She asked, her voice quiet and even a bit conspiritorial as she lifted her thumb to bite at its nail in nervous excitement.

“Why else would I have brought you out here if not to guard against the slight possibility that you might set something on fire?” Gale said warmly. “Only if you feel up to it, of course. You just woke up and you haven’t eaten yet.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever felt more energized for something in my life,” Elinna said.

“I had an idea that would be the case,” Gale said, smirking again.

They walked for just a little while longer, the babbling brook acting as a companion as they traveled. The clearing Gale promised came into view, a large circular space with a craggy floor of dense packed clay and slabs of stone. More willows stretched upward toward the sky above them, the long branches seemingly trimmed in preparation for this lesson.

“We have four of the five elements in this space,” Gale said, “making it a great place for us to conjure the weave.”

“Earth, water, air…” Elinna said. “Where is the fire?”

“The fourth we have is spirit,” Gale corrected. “As for the fire…”

Gale held his free hand up, conjuring a small ball of flame before letting it float to a small pile of willow branches and setting it ablaze.

“There we are,” he said. “Now, we’re going to start with something basic–something even more basic than the cantrips you know. You’re simply going to learn to conjure the weave and to hold onto it. I will be acting as a conduit, but only enough to make it more tangible for you. What you accomplish here today, it is your magic to be proud of.”

“Alright,” Elinna said with a nod, her chest tight with anticipation.

“So, what do you know about the weave, Elinna?” Gale asked. “Run me through it.”

“From my reading…” Elinna said. “It’s the essence of Mystra herself, and it runs through everything on our material plane. Through its pathways magic travels to those who would use it.”

“Excellent,” Gale said with a proud smile. “Could not have said it better myself.”

Elinna’s heart fluttered with Gale’s praise.

“Now–the times I have done this with others; with people who weren’t hoping to master the use of the weave, I’ve made it easy for them. But I’m going to challenge you, Elinna. I’ll challenge you as I was challenged by Elminster as a youth. You may find yourself frustrated, but hold fast. Believe in yourself as I believe in you,” Gale said.

“Do you?” Elinna asked. “Believe in me?”

Gale’s eyebrows quirked up. “How could you even ask me something like that?”

Elinna exhaled softly. “‘Equals?’” She quoted from their argument before Astarion had taken her as his captive. “‘Of all the delusions…’”

Gale grimaced.

“Elinna…” he said, stepping forward and lifting one of his hands into hers. “I was so abhorrent to you a few days ago. I haven’t had an opportunity to properly apologize yet. I am sorry for the things that I said. I know I’m not able to take it back, but I hope you trust me enough to believe me when I say I didn’t mean a word of what I said when I was so cruelly disparaging your character.” He sighed. “You have been the most pleasant surprise in my life so far, and I wish I could show you how deeply I regretted what I did–I wish you could have borne witness to my contrition while you recovered.”

The apology was...overwhelming…for Elinna. She merely wanted a confirmation that he truly meant what he’d said when he’d said he believed in her. Instead he’d given her the apology equivalent of a love confession. Or perhaps…that was merely wishful thinking.

Gale was always so grandiose–seemingly in everything–perhaps she shouldn’t read into the linking of their arms; the brushing away of her tears; the way his hand now cradled her own.

“I believe in you, Elinna,” he said. “Implicitly, completely. If there is anyone who has a passion for magic that perhaps rivals my own, it’s you.”

Elinna swallowed and forced herself to nod, wondering how her focus would manifest now that she was fighting the urge to swoon with his high opinion of her.

“Now,” Gale said, releasing her hand and taking a few steps back from her. “The weave is exactly what it sounds like–as you said, its threads run through every facet of our reality. As magic users, we pluck and pull at the threads and, by extension, alter the tapestry of that reality.”

Elinna nodded.

“We do this through casting gestures.” Gale lifted his hands and moved them just so, causing a brief spark to materialize. “And through invocations–such as your unfortunate use of misty step upon our first meeting.”

“You didn’t use an invocation to teleport us here,” she pointed out.

“That was going to be my next point, actually,” he said. “Once a wizard or sorceress is learned enough, they can use the weave without any such aids. But for you, as a novice, they will help you remain focused on the spell you’re attempting to cast.”

“For simply touching the weave, you only need one casting gesture,” Gale said as he lifted his hand and placed it over his chest. “Place your hands over your heart.”

Elinna nodded, lifting her gloved fingers to her chest and pressing them to the spot over her heart.

“Focus on the way your heart feels in your chest, how it feels…how it feels like it contains your own essence in the same way the weave contain’s Mystra’s essence. Feel how it connects you to everything around you; how it connects you to Halsin and Briar. How it connects you to Astarion. How it connects you even to me…”

Elinna closed her eyes, lest his words encourage her to look at him directly and render her distracted. She followed his instructions, thinking about the threads that bound up her own fate with that of her traveling companions. How even the vampire that nearly got her killed was now somehow their ally.

She thought of the moments she’d shared with Gale in privacy, and how even after only a few short days, she found herself utterly and unerringly loyal to him.

“Fantastic work,” Gale said, his voice so quiet that she could hear the movement of his tongue in the seat of his mouth. “You’re wrapping the weave around your fingers now, you may not be able to sense it yet, but I can see it.”

“Mm,” Elinna said, wanting to acknowledge his words, but not wanting to lose the focus she’d cultivated.

“Now, I want you to imagine those threads as lines on a piece of parchment–think of when you first learned to write. I know that memory is one that is likely fraught with pain for you, but focus on what it enabled you to do–what it enabled you to learn on those late nights up in The Nest. With your heart, with your essence, you’re going to write on those lines–only you will write with your voice rather than a pen,” he said.

“Alright,” she said.

“Repeat after me: ‘Ah-Thran, Mystra-ryl, Kantrach Ao,” he said.

In her mind’s eye, she imagined it. The threads of weave stretching out into the stars as three violet, shimmering lines, such as on a child’s notebook. She imagined her voice as the quill which etched out the words in careful script.

“Ahthran, Mystraryl, Kantrach Ao,” she repeated, the words seeming to resonate and echo in her own ears; seeming to vibrate in her chest.

The smell of…lilacs and sweet, honeyed wine filled her nostrils. She felt at peace as she stood there with her hands still touching her heart. It was the sensation of being flirted with for the first time by someone who she thought of as beautiful. It was the first time she lay in bed with a book she simply couldn’t put down, finding joy in the story in lieu of getting a restful sleep. It was the way Gale’s thumb felt against the sweep of her cheekbone when he wiped away her errant tear.

“You’re doing wonderfully,” Gale said, his voice so close and quiet now that she could almost feel his breath against the pointed shell of her ear. Her arms beneath her waistcoat prickled with gooseflesh, she felt almost as if she awaited a kiss. “There is only one thing remaining. You must picture in your mind the image of perfect harmony, whatever that might be to you.”

Elinna felt as if she had almost entered a trance state. There were no thoughts floating in her mind–only feelings and images and finally, the melody of a song.

To her knowledge, it was not a song she had heard before, and yet she knew the words as if they had been penned onto her very heart. Her voice sounded before she could stop it, and the song flowed out of her, channeled from her soul as she used it to channel the weave.

Sleep little one under moon's soft light

Stars will watch you through the night

Though I must part the sky's gentle gleam

Will keep you safe in a tender dream

Under the moon and stars so bright

You’ll feel my love through the lonesome night

Though we're apart, my love will stay

In every star’s light, till the break of day

Close your eyes, let night wind sing

Of the peace the familiar dark can bring

Though I'm away my love is near

In every star you'll find me, dear

Elinna was grateful for her eyes being closed as she finished the sorrowful lullaby that bubbled to her lips in her state. She didn’t know exactly why, but she found herself wanting to cry. She wondered if she’d heard it in a drink-addled state from one of the more sullen bards that frequented the inns she used to go to in hopes of earning a few coins.

She didn’t have long to think about it before she heard Gale’s soft voice just beside her though.

“Elinna,” he said, his voice quiet with awe. “You’ve done it.”

Her amber lashes fluttered and she opened her eyes to a breathtaking sight.

Her hands dropped at her sides as she found herself standing beside Gale in an orb of perfect, starlit darkness.

She looked down at her boots, the clay ground having given way to inky, violet night sky. Silvery stars blinked around her, and as she lifted one of her fingers to touch one of them, it flew across the sky she had conjured, breaking into a breathtaking cascade of smaller stars.

The stars coalesced to form the shape of a moth, and the creature fluttered to Gale’s awaiting open hand.

“Incredible,” he said in a whisper. “Elinna, I think you may be an unwitting sorceress.”

“Really?” Elinna asked. “I thought most of this came from you.”

He looked at her, and the way that his eyes sparkled as they crinkled with mirth took her breath away. “No,” he said. “I may have wrangled a thread here or there, but this illusion you’ve conjured…that was all you. You can feel it, can’t you?”

She could, she realized. The harmony she envisioned with the song that materialized from somewhere inside of her had expanded to encompass every part of her. Every cell, every thought. There was a sweet taste on the tip of her tongue; like the subtle, sweet tang of bee pollen. Her heart swelled with affection–several different kinds of affection, in fact. The care you feel for a small animal when it looks at you with wide, marble-like eyes. The intimacy of a close friendship–like the one she had with Gale.

There was the awe of seeing something entirely new and unexpected. The excitement of a new experience. And underneath all of it was something altogether new for her.

The pleasant feeling of new love. Or perhaps what she thought new love might feel like.

At the same time she identified it, she saw Gale’s chest expand with a deep, steadying breath. His eyes searched hers, and for once she didn’t find herself shying away from it.

No, in fact, she found herself emboldened by the rush of power and pride flooding her veins. She let her eyes fall to his lips and, for once, let herself freely imagine just what she might like to do with them–where she would like to feel them.

She imagined, if only for a moment, what it might feel like for Gale to brush not only his thumb against the crest of her cheekbone, but what it must feel like to have his calloused hand cup the side of her face. She imagined how clumsy her lips might feel to him, being the practiced older man that he was. How he might show her just how lips were meant to mingle and enmesh when it was done correctly; just as he taught her to pluck the strings of the weave.

She was lost in the image for a long time, almost feeling the slick sensation of his tongue tracing her lower lip, begging for entry. The taste of his afternoon tea on his tongue. The taste of moonlight on her own throat as he lapped the spot where her neck met her jaw.

Gale cleared his throat, and her eyes snapped back to his.

“How do you feel?” he asked her.

“Incredible,” she breathed, echoing his earlier sentiment, though she didn’t quite notice just how sensual her voice sounded.

And then, just as quickly as it came, the illusion flickered and vanished.

Her knees buckled and Gale caught her, arms supporting her weight with ease.

“Careful, Elinna,” Gale gasped as he adjusted her in his arms, albeit a bit clumsily. “Are you alright?”

Elinna blinked, the warm, comfortable feeling dissipating and leaving her feeling…cold….and lonesome.

“W-what happened?” she asked. “Where did it go?”

“You released it…” Gale said, examining her face. “And you’re looking a mite pale, as well.”

Her stomach let out an embarrassing sound, like a dog grumbling.

“Ah,” he said, “Well, that would certainly explain it. Perhaps we shouldn’t have attempted this on an empty stomach after all. Forgive me, as much as I believed in your abilities, I didn’t expect you to conjure something quite so advanced. I’m sure it burned through whatever reserves of energy you had left.”

She gave him a bittersweet smile and nodded. “I told you you shouldn’t underestimate me,” she teased.

“And when did you say that?” Gale said, his voice warmly amused.

“Mmn,” she said as she got back onto her feet. “Maybe I didn’t. But consider yourself properly warned now.”

Gale chuckled. “Oh, I very well do,” he said. “Come Elinna, let’s get you back to the inn and fill that belly of yours.”

Elinna gave an airy, almost silly little laugh. “Very well,” she said.

She couldn’t wait to tell the others the good news.

She was a sorceress!

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amandacanwrite · 3 months ago

Text

Violet Thread of Fate || Part Eleven: A Set of Portraits

Other Chapters || Join Taglist || Requests Open || Subscribe on AO3

Pairing || Elinna Inklynn (Half-drow tav) and Gale Dekarios. Briar Larklight (Gender Neutral Tav) x Halsin

Length || 4,300-ish Words

Warnings || Age gap (Perhaps about 10ish years.) Description of scarring from corporal punishment. Mature themes. Shared memories of neglect and abuse.

A/n || Finally starting to get into some of the overall plot! I'm so excited to write the Underdark Arc. I hope you like this chapter!

I also just wanted to say a heartfelt thank you to those of you who have been commenting after reading. You have no idea how much it means to me when you stop for a few moments to do that and let me know that you're liking this project. Every morning one of the first things I do is check Ao3 and Tumblr for responses to my fic. I wish you could see my dumb little face when I read them. It really does make my day.

Taglist || @softvampirewhump @horizonstride @thoughts-of-bear @mymybirdie @tiedyedghoulette

@drabblesandimagines @madwomansapologist @hijirikaww @tryingtowritestuff24 @laserlope

@auroraesmeraldarose @puckprimrose @dont-try-pesticide @cherifrog @circusofthelastdays

@nourangul @crucibelle @fan-aaa-tic @listen-to-navi @spillthetaesissy

@sammywasnthere

@vermililions @weaponizedvirtue @leucineinthesky

Gale’s gaze stayed focused on Elinna’s face, watching her cycle through a myriad of emotions before she finally dropped to her knees in front of him. Her green eyes were so bright and aware–something he had missed in the days she spent recovering from the spider toxin in her system. But there was something complex behind them;some mixture of trepidation and curiosity–perhaps even pain.

He still held the locket in his hand, the delicate face of it slightly ajar as Elinna stared at it.

She was rendered speechless, and Gale found himself unsure of what to do.

He understood what she’d meant when she’d called her mother a figment; understood that Elinna was letting go of the possibility of ever knowing what her mother had intended for her life when she offered him the magic within the locket.

But now that locket was open, and whatever lay hidden in the shadowy interior was now available to her. All there was left to do was open it.

But Elinna…she was just staring at it. Part of him wanted to simply open it for her, but he knew that was curiosity spurring him on and not necessarily what was best for Elinna in this moment.

“Elinna,” Gale finally said, willing patience into his voice. “Tell me what’s on your mind.”

Her eyes went to his, wide and frightened.

“It’s open,” she said.

He nodded. “It is.”

“But it opened after you drained the magic of it?” she asked.

“It appears so–the magic inside of it was what kept it locked, I assume,” he said. “Do you not wish to see what lies within?”

“What if–what if they’re instructions for how to use the magic you just consumed?” she asked. “What if they reveal a path I can no longer take?”

“What if they don’t?” Gale asked. “What if it’s a portrait of your mother?”

He hoped it was something more like that. The guilt he would feel if he’d taken away the last chance of Elinna to have found her family…he didn’t know if he could carry it.

Elinna lifted her thumb to her mouth, chewing at her nail for a moment. He watched her face again, the gentle creases in her brow as she lost herself in thought, staring at the locket. Gale simply held still, letting Elinna process.

Finally, she gave a shaky exhale and reached for the locket, taking it gingerly into her hands.

“I’m sorry–” she said with a humorless laugh. “I said all those things about being ready to lay this journey to rest and now I’m having a crisis. It must be making you feel wretched.”

Gale shook his head. “You have no reason to apologize,” he said. “I just want to be here for you, whether you decide to look inside or discard the locket altogether.”

Gale’s heart warmed as Elinna’s shoulders faintly dropped and she heaved out a little exhale of relief.

He really had forgotten how nice it felt to be needed–for his presence to matter to someone in the world aside from Tara and his mother.

Perhaps he had more in common with Elinna than he originally realized.

Finally Elinna looked down at the object in her hand, biting down on her lower lip.

“I think…I think I need to open it,” she said in a quiet voice.

Gale nodded. “I’m right here, Elinna,” he said softly.

Gale’s heart squeezed again as she let out a soothed breath and nodded.

She slipped the locket open and peered inside.

***

Underneath Gale and Elinna, lounging near the hexblood viol player that had resumed their music after they’d left, Halsin, Briar and Astarion all sat, drinking from tankards and wine glasses.

Astarion lazily let his head drop back to look at where the wizard had rushed to catch the girl before she had a nasty tumble down the stairs. Astarion huffed out a little sound as he looked to the bard on the stage once more and griped, “What do you suppose they’re doing up there? They’ve been gone an awful long time.”

Briar sat on a tall barstool, their legs kicking where they hung in the air with their shorter stature. They looked up at the ceiling as if they could see through it and into the room they’d paid for at the inn. They gave a little shrug.

“Maybe he’s getting her situated back in bed,” they offered.

“I still think it’s strange–they seem very close for two people who aren’t lovers,” Halsin said, placing his chin in his hand. “Perhaps Gale is confessing matters of the heart.”

“What is this, primary school?” Astarion asked with a scoff. “They’re probably just up there engaging in some heavy petting like any normal adult should be.”

Briar quirked an eyebrow at Astarion. “Halsin confessed his feelings for me before we shared a bed,” they said. “Not everyone is as jaded as you.”

Astarion looked between the two of them with an assessing gaze, taking in their size difference. After seeming satisfied in his assessment, he let out a little chortle of delight

“Oh, you’re a dirty little thing, aren’t you?” Astarion said to Briar, eyes narrowing on them. “How do you even make him fit?”

Briar’s eyes narrowed as they gave the vampire a wry smirk. “And why would I tell you that? You don’t even deserve to imagine it as far as I’m concerned,” they said. “You’ll have to conjure your own fantasies to synchronize your cold, sad, little hand to, I’m afraid.”

Halsin was halfway through a sip of his honey mead when Briar said this and the unexpected vulgarity had him sputtering into his tankard before being seized by a coughing fit.

Astarion barked a delighted laugh, not at all offended. He seemed to enjoy the opportunity to banter with someone.

“Please,” Astarion said as he took in a breath and sighed. “I could have the little half-drow if I wished. She was like putty in my hands before. Don’t offend me just because you lack taste.”

“Was that before or after you nearly got her killed?” Halsin asked dryly.

“Lack taste?!” Briar griped over the end of Halsin’s sentence. They gestured with an open hand at their partner. “Have you seen this man?!”

“Technically speaking, it was she who nearly got me killed, thank you very much. Secondly, yes I have seen him, the question is have you seen me?” he said. “And Elinna will forgive me eventually, I’m sure.”

Briar rolled their eyes. “Such arrogance,” they said.

“You say arrogance, I say charm and wit and social graces,” Astarion tutted as he took another sip from his wine. “Eugh, this wine is about as robust as horse piss.”

“You’re welcome to pay for something better,” Halsin said flatly, his coin purse already made quite empty enough thanks to his unexpected traveling companions and their need for a warm place to tuck Elinna into sleep. At least the vampire spawn didn’t eat, that helped

Astarion took another deep drink from his wine glass before lifting it in a mock toast. “Horse piss is fine,” he said.

Briar rolled their eyes once again, looking toward the room as they bored of Astarion’s complaining.

When they did, their eyes caught a smudge of color on the staircase. Gale descended the stairs a few steps ahead of Elinna, who was now fully dressed. Her amber hair still tumbled in lovely waves down to the middle of her back, still unbrushed, as if she’d gotten dressed in a hurry or perhaps was just too tired to do her full routine for getting ready.

Gale got to the bottom of the steps and offered Elinna a hand as she limped down the last few stairs. Once done making sure she was stable on her boot-clad feet, he scanned the room, meeting Briar’s eyes and giving a nod of acknowledgement.. He was still holding her hand as he pointed with his other to where they were sitting and bantering.

Her eyes scanned them before landing on Astarion, lounging lazily with his bottle of wine.

Briar watched as per complexion blanched and as she almost turned on her heel to run back upstairs Gale stopped her and speaking to her, cupping her one hand with both of his. They could see the same coaxing care in his face as they once saw in Halsin the first time they met; when he’d saved Briar from those goblin poachers.

“Astarion, why don’t you make yourself scarce for a bit?” Briar said.

“What?” Astarion asked, looking at Briar. “Why?” he asked as he followed the fox-shifter’s line of sight.

When he saw Elinna he gave a little pout; the face of someone who knew they were facing the consequences of their choices, but still didn’t want to be.

“Fiiiiine,” he said, drawing out the word into a sigh. “Let me know when the stray cat will be allowed back in.”

He got to his feet, and grabbed his cheap wine by the neck of the bottle, looking between the glass and the bottle for a moment before downing the bit of wine left in his glass and, chasing it with a swig straight from the bottle as he wandered outside.

Halsin looked over his shoulder just as Briar looked back at Elinna. Her shoulders were already dropping and the color was returning to her face. She still seemed a little hesitant as Gale tucked her hand into the crook of his arm and led her over to the table.

“Elinna Inklynn, allow me to introduce you to Halsin Silverbough and Briar Larklight. These are the valiant druids who helped me locate you and save you,” Gale said.

Briar gave their friendliest smile to Elinna, which they were relieved to see returned, albeit a little shyly. They watched as Elinna took Halsin in for the first time, seeing as her mouth opened slightly with surprise.

“Wow,” Elinna said under her breath as she took in Halsin’s height and the muscled mass of his body.

Halsin’s mouth split into a wide grin before he gave a hearty laugh. “Nice to meet you more officially, Elinna,” he said. “I’m happy to see you back on your feet.”

“Oh, you’re the one who asked me why I was out of bed,” Elinna said. “And the one who carried me.”

“We all took turns carrying you, thank you,” Gale said, playfully affronted.

“Well Gale and Halsin did,” Briar corrected. “I’m afraid I’m a bit shorter than you and lacking in the necessary muscles to carry you for more than a quick spell.”

“I offered to cast enlarge on you,” Gale said.

“And I told you I quite like my size,” Briar quipped back.

“As do I,” Halsin said with a warm smile cast their way, eyes hooded in that private way that Briar knew added an edge of suggestion to the complement.

Briar pressed their lips slightly in an effort to keep the bronze flush from coming to their face. They looked back at Elinna again, “Astarion was forbidden from helping, considering he was the reason for your ailments.”

“Why are you traveling with him?” Elinna asked.

“He helped us defeat the spider,” Briar said. “And he shares another ailment with you all.”

Elinna looked at Gale with surprise. “You told them about it?” she asked.

“Worry not,” Halsin assured her, a broad hand lifting. “We were already on our way to do our own investigation on the nautiloid when we found your traveling companion. You’re not the first I’ve seen with the ailment.”

“So…do you know why we’re still…us…then?” Elinna asked.

Halsin’s expression sobered a bit. “Admittedly, no,” he said. “But I can at least tell you that you’re not the only ones whose transformation is stalled. It’s an anomaly from anything we’ve ever seen when it comes to…to your ailment.”

Elinna nodded. “I see…and I suppose if you haven’t helped Gale or Astarion…you don’t have a cure for it.”

“Not as of yet,” Halsin said. “But that’s something I hope to figure out in our travels together.”

Briar watched as Elinna looked at Gale with a questioning gaze. Gale looked down at Elinna and gave her a subtle nod.

Elinna drew a piece of jewelry from her coat and placed it on the table between everyone.

It appeared to be a locket with a depiction of a couple sitting on a crescent moon, a child cradled between them. It had some Drowic words inscribed on the face of it that Briar couldn’t read.

“This is a locket that was left with me when I was left at The Scribe’s Guild in Moonshae,” she said. “I’ve never been able to open it until now.”

She gingerly handled the locket, opening it cautiously. Within the locket, on either side, were two hand-painted portraits in miniature. One of a beautiful drow woman with periwinkle-colored skin and white hair, Elinna’s face looked eerily similar to the woman, as if Elinna had been drawn the same way but painted with a different color palette.

The other portrait was one of a stately-looking human man with a strong nose, a tidy red beard and thick, waving hair to match. Most striking was the green color of his eyes and how similar they were to Elinna’s, though they lacked the curious twinkling present in Elinna’s wide eyes.

Rolled into a tight, thin scroll was a piece of yellowed parchment about as long as a single digit of Elinna’s fingers.

She picked up the parchment, unfurling it with some effort as she nibbled on her lower lip.

“I think these are my parents,” she said. “And there was this paper inside…”

She unfurled the paper, revealing a message written in Undercommon, the language of the inhabitants of the Underdark.

“‘When you get this locket open,’” Elinna read, “‘Come find me in the mushrooms sing.’”

“It’s gobbledygook to me,” Gale said. “I thought our druids might know where singing mushrooms could be found.”

Elinna looked at Briar and they shook their head. “It’s not something I’m familiar with,” they said. “I’ve never heard of a singing mushroom.”

Briar looked at Halsin, expecting him to say the same. But Halsin’s face had grown serious–almost grave.

“The Fungus Folk,” Halsin said. “Also known as Myconids. They’re quite literally humanoid mushrooms. They operate as a hivemind and their magic comes through the songs they sing.”

“Where can they be found?” Elinna asked. “I’ve never encountered them in any of my reading.”

“They’re a very private society, and are fiercely protective of their own. There are not many who can penetrate their society and learn the finer points and intricacies of their colonies. There is not much to be read about them,” Halsin said. “Their largest colony is in the Lowerdark, the deepest level of the Underdark, beneath even the duegar and the deep gnomes.

“It’s dangerous there. The Myconid colony may be an oasis of decency–but the darkness we might encounter on the way…” He trailed off for a few moments, seeming to be lost in some thought. He blinked and shook his head, as if shaking it off. “There’s an old adage about the Lower dark–”

“If you think it’s impossible, it’s happening in the Lower Dark,” A haughty voice drawled from behind Elinna.

Briar furrowed their brow. “You’re supposed to be giving us space, Astarion,” they said.

“Yes, but then I heard you talking about The Lowerdark,” Astarion said. “I didn’t want to miss it.”

Briar looked at Elinna, seeing her begin to tremble as Astarion drew closer. Halsin stood from his seat, picking Elinna up in one smooth motion and placing her in the chair he’d just vacated, as if she weighed nothing. He put his massive body between Elinna and the vampire spawn.

Astarion clicked his tongue. “Oh come on,” he complained. “I’m not feral.”

“And she’s supposed to know that, how?” Gale snipped. “I’ll remind you of your less-than glowing first impression on her.”

“Such dramatics,” Astarion sighed. “It was a little nibble. And she enjoyed it. Most people do.”

Elinna’s face flushed scarlet as she fiddled with her hands in her lap. Seeing her shrink was enough to reignite Briar’s irritation with the pale elf. They were about to tell the bastard to go outside again when Elinna’s trembling voice rose from behind Halsin.

“Y-you’ve been to The Lowerdark?” she asked.

Briar’s brows rose with surprise, and judging by Halsin’s glance over his muscled shoulder, he’d been surprised too.

The girl was clearly terrified, but so determined to learn the truth about her parents that she would speak to him anyway. The only one who didn’t seem surprised by Elinna’s bravery and curiosity was her traveling companion, the wizard.

Who was still staring Astarion down with an unimpressed glower.

She seemed to note the surprise on Briar’s and Halsin’s faces. She shrunk a bit more into herself, looking a bit embarrassed.

“It’s easy to be a bit brave when you’re protected by a giant elf,” she mumbled.

Briar was relieved to see the warmth return to Halsin’s expression as he let out a little chuckle. “Glad to make you feel a bit more comfortable, young one,” he said.

“To answer your question,” Astarion said, sounding almost annoyed at Halsin’s interruption. “Yes. I’ve been to The Lowerdark dozens of times. One of Cazador’s favorite places to…frollic…as it were.”

“Cazador?” Gale asked. “Pray tell, who is that?”

“My…ehm…superior,” Astarion said, doing his best to maintain discretion in the crowded inn. There was no telling who was listening, after all. “He liked to bring us along–like a bottle of wine to a dinner party; meaning he brought us not for our own enjoyment, but for the enjoyment of the other guests attending.” Astarion took another swig from his wine bottle. “It’d be nice to participate in the debauchery for once, instead of being devoured by it.”

“I can’t recommend going to The Lowerdark,” Halsin said. “It’s a terrible place.”

“I have to go,” Elinna said, her voice suddenly steady; determined. “My mother is there. She wants me to find her.”

“How long have you had that locket?” Briar asked. “You said it was left with you when you were a baby.”

“I’m twenty and eight if that’s what you’re asking,” Elinna said, a defensive edge coming to her words.

“It’s probable she’s long dead by now,” Astarion said with a shrug. “Best to put it out of your mind.”

“We do have other matters to address,” Gale said with a diplomatic tilt of his head. “Some unwanted guests in the ocular region and all of that. Elinna, I’m sure that if she’s waited this long, she can wait a few more days.”

“You’d ask me to postpone fulfilling a wish I’ve had my entire life?” Elinna retorted.

“Elinna, you just said to me yourself that your mother is a figment–” Gale stopped short when Elinna’s eyes widened with urgency–as if he had shared something she didn’t want the rest of them to know.

Her face flushed slightly as she looked down at the table and spoke in a quiet calm.

“I’m going to The Lowerdark,” her voice grew a little louder–almost awkward sounding as she made her demands– as if she were a child learning to stand up for herself for the first time “You can join me or not, but I am going.”

For just a moment, Elinna looked so very much like her father, her brow creasing in the very same places his did; her mouth set in a similar line.

“Elinna…” Gale said, measuredly. “I think perhaps we should get some food in you and let you have a bit more rest–”

“Don’t patronize me Gale,” Elinna said, her voice trembling and breaking. Not with fear, this time, but with uncompromising, desperate will. With the frustration of someone who wasn’t being understood. “This isn’t some silly, girlish day dream. I could find my mother—possibly alive!”

“Elinna, the Underdark—especially The Lowerdark—is not like it is up here. There are dangers everywhere,” Halsin said. “The very plantlife down there can be deadly, there are slavers and politics we can’t understand and–”

“And you can’t protect yourself. You’ve already failed the test with me,” Astarion interrupted, his tone much less kind than the others. “You’ll be a liability to all of us down there and I’m not going to let you put my life on the line again.”

“Me? Putting your life on the line?! Do you not hear yourself when you speak?” Elinna asked. “And I wasn’t asking you. I wasn’t asking any of you.”

Halsin placed a hand on Elinna’s shoulder, exuding that calm wisdom he seemed to always carry around in his back pocket. “Elinna, you are still healing. As someone whose family is long gone, please know that I understand your plight. Your mother has waited twenty eight years for you to get this message, she can wait a little while longer—until you can hold your own in a fight.”

“I would know how to fight if someone would just teach me!” Elinna said, exasperation flashing in her face.

“I suppose that’s aimed at me?” Gale asked.

“It’s aimed at everyone,” Elinna growled. “When I was at The Nest, the scribes trusted me with nothing. When I came to you seeking help, you called me a presumptuous upstart!”

Gale cringed slightly. “I’d hoped that particular bit of nastiness would have fogged over with the rest of the memories from a few days ago.”

“You’re a seven foot tall elf!!” Elinna said to Halsin. “You’re built like the gods damned walls of Baldur’s gate.” She pointed an angry finger at Astarion. “You could teach me how to work with knives, I saw how skilled you were with them.”

“Oh, thank you,” Astarion said, placing a hand on his chest and giving a genuinely pleased smile.

“You’re an excellent tracker! You could teach me those things–you’re small like me and you could teach me how to avoid trouble instead of trying to wrestle it into submission.

“I just want someone; anyone to have some faith in my abilities for once,” she said, her eyes filling up with glistening tears.

“Elinna, don’t cry,” Gale pleaded, his voice plantive. “Don’t be sad.”

“I’m not sad!” Elinna said as those tears fell onto her face. “I’m…I’m… fucking angry!”

Astarion gasped.

“Oh, such language!”

“That’s what I mean!” Elinna said. “This patronizing tone, the way you all think I’m too weak to take it.”

Elinna pulled up her sleeve, revealing the ladder of caning scars on the sensitive skin on the inside of her forearm. “I can take pain,” she cried. “I can be strong. I just need for someone to show me how!”

Halsin’s hand tightened slightly on her shoulder, squeezing her encouragingly.

“Just because you can take pain; just because you can be strong, doesn’t mean you should have to be, Elinna,” Halsin said. “Resilience is an admirable trait, but it’s borne from the need to persevere through great pain. Can you blame us for not wanting such a thing for you?”

Elinna’s eyes met Halsin’s, flickering as she searched his face, her lips still pressed into a pale line. Gale wanted to correct Halsin–to tell him that Elinna had already seen her fair share of abuse and maltreatment. The things she had shared with him…he wondered if it was only the tip of the iceberg. He wondered if Elinna even remembered the worst atrocities done to her, or if she found some way to block them out.

Whatever the answer was, Gale wouldn’t be getting it tonight. Elinna pushed Halsin’s hand off of her own shoulder like it was a piece of refuse–like it disgusted her.

“You’re all cowards,” Elinna said.

She turned around and trudged back up the stairs, her boots loud on the hollow, wooden structure.

Gale heaved a sigh, dropping his hand from his chin. “That went swimmingly, didn’t it?” he said. “She’s just woken up and we’re already at odds again.”

Halsin gave him two hard claps on the back, hard enough that Gale huffed a subtle cough from the force of it. “Don’t take it too hard, Gale,” Halsin said. “I’m sure there is much on the young woman’s mind since waking up. I don’t think her ire is personal, even if the words she used were quite strong.”

“I, for one, am a proud coward!” Astarion said. “How else do you think I survived so long? It wasn’t by taking on every enormous challenge thrown my way. Sometimes it is simply better to run.”

Briar was still looking at the stairs where Elinna had left. They plopped their chin into their palms, bringing up their legs and crossing them on the chair. “She’s going to try to leave regardless of whether we go with her or not, isn’t she?” Briar said.

Gale nodded let out a low, frustrated breath.

“Most definitely,” Gale said. “What she lacks in training she makes up for in tenacity and ambition.”

“Tenacity, or stubbornness?” Halsin said, though he huffed a warm chuckle.

“Or perhaps stupidity…” Astarion grumbled under his breath.

“Best we go up before she decides to pack her things and leave without us,” Halsin said. “It will take us near a fortnight to get to The Lowerdark, longer still if we have any complications.”

“We will certainly have our work cut out for us,” Gale said. “But…well, there’s no time like the present, is there?”

Halsin gave Gale a knowing grin. Briar and Astarion started to bicker about Elinna’s intelligence compared to the vampire spawn; specifically having a debate on whether or not Astarion had the qualifications to remark on her intelligence at all.

Gale didn’t know what would follow; he didn’t know what awaited them all in The Lowerdark. He did know one thing, though.

He’d hated how it felt when Elinna was apart from him.

And he certainly had no intention to experience that feeling ever again.

Not if he could help it.

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