#he was a full spring eladrin up until this point

[spoopyandtired]

Heem Heem <3

[timeforelfnonsense]

The Lusty Eladrin Maid (3/3)

Dafni x Astarion || E (very spicy) || Ao3 || Previous Chapter ||  Sunshine & Starlight: My on going bg3 series || 

All of Sunshine & Starlight is written as one shoots that can be read alone for the most part but there is a passing reference to The Bargain in this one. It’s not necessary to read it before but it might clear some things up!

Italicized quotes are implied elvish Translations (via Candle Keep) & Lore: Veluthe - Beautiful Arael’sha - Heart-Friend (term of endearment) Lore on elves  (just the basics) 

Marsember - the City of Spices, a metropolis and the busiest port  in the entire kingdom of Cormyr.

Dafni’s breath hitched as Astarion hulled her by the waist, pressing her snugly to his own body. His hips rocking gently against her own. Dafni was able to wiggle her hand between them, with a bit of fumbling, Dafni worked the buttons of his breech falls free. She gave him a light caress, her thumb teasing its way along the underside of his shaft. Dafni felt him twitch in her palm, a proud grin tweaked at her lips. Astarion buried his face in the hollow of her throat, muffling a husky groan. Dafni only ceased her attention to rid him completely of the meddlesome fabric of his pants. 

He really was beautiful everywhere. 

Astarion framed her with his lithesome form. His narrow hips coming down to meet her own, teasing his length against the tender, pink, flesh between her legs. She kept her expression reminded wide-eyed and demure as she shamelessly skimmed her wet slit against his cock. 

“Veluthe,” he murmured, kissing along her pointed ear. Dafni squeaked as he nibbled lightly at her earlobe.

“Come to me, arael’sha.” She coaxed, arms draped loosely over his shoulders, Dafni toyed with the soft baby-hair at the base of his skull, twirling the snowy wisps of curl gently around her index finger. She lifted her hips up to meet him, “I’m aching to feel you inside me.”

A delicious pressure started at her entrance. Her nerves were still alight from her first climax, the sensation of Astarion’s manhood sinking into her, inch by inch nearly brought tears to her eye. Stretched tight around him, her caves wrapped around him, heels digging into the top of his backside, urging him forwards. He set a slow, pleasant rhythm, his length delving delightfully deeper with each roll of his hips. Astarion dropped to his forearms, hilting himself at last.

A musical keen rattled through her as she writhed below him. He felt utterly perfect, buried so deep inside her. A warm, resplendent sensation enveloped her with each thrust. 

She was tipsy on intimacy and lovemaking. The feeling of their shared pleasure buzzing around her. By her nature, Dafni was a creature defined by emotion. Fashioned from boundless joy and playful whims, she took in the delight of others like lungfuls of crisp spring air. She could sense Astarion’s trepid excitement. Feel his need in every stroke. 

That’s the way, dear heart. A little tenderness won’t kill you.

Dafni drew him into a kiss, her lips locking against his with increasing passion. She could still taste the floral tang of her own arousal on his tongue as it swept between her parted lips. A bright smile took shape across her face when she broke the kiss. A single, iridescent butterfly had come to rest on the tip of his nose. It’s translucent, faerie fire wings illuminating his face with their whimsical glow. Astarion wrinkled his nose, a low, warm laugh filling his chest as the illusionary creature fluttered away. 

“I’m sorry,” she giggled, her hand cupping his cheek.

“Don’t be.” He insisted, “I find your quirks endearing.” 

Calling her wild, glittering charms, endearing quirks, was really a disservice. She turned what was once nothing but a grassy clearing into a lush meadow. A little slice of the Feywild brought into creation with nothing more than her bliss.

Spellbinding would have been a better discretion, however, he wasn’t exactly eager to add yet another item to his list of embarrassing, mid-coital confessions. It was frighteningly easy for Dafni to turn him into a besotted idiot. Between her honey-tongued kisses and bright laughter, it was hardly a fair fight. 

Add blood lust to the mix and he had a proven recipe for trouble. For that very reason, he’d come to the conclusion that separating feeding and fucking would be the wisest course. He enjoyed both far too much to fully surrender either. But it was hard enough to keep himself in check with his cock nestled inside her. He took in a deep breath, savoring the heady sweetness that clung to her smooth skin. Lilac and primrose, just a hint of bergamot. An aroma that left him feeling totally beguiled. The finest perfume from Marsember, could not hold a candle to Dafni’s heavenly bouquet. 

Her neck and thigh still bore dark purple reminders of their last encounter. He slid a hand along the soft skin in her inner thigh, his fingertips lingering on indentations he’d left behind. Dafni’s palms pressed into his chest, fingernails lightly scraping along his skin as he worked himself in and out of her snug cunny. A bolt of pleasure skipped down his spine at the memory of her blood, sweet and sharp, coursing through him as she came undone in his arms. 

Yes, separating feeding and fucking would be the wise, but by the Hells, was it getting harder and harder to listen to wisdom when she was around. 

“May I?” He asked, nuzzling lightly at the side of her throat. 

Dafni gave him a quick nod. His lips made their way down the column of her neck, his tongue running along the healing puncture marks. Dafni braced herself for the sharpness of his teeth as his lips whispered across her fluttering pulse. Dafni whimpered as he pulled out to the tip, her body aching at the loss of perfect fullness. With one forceful press, he hilted himself once more, sinking his fangs into the crook of her neck as she cried out. Dafni’s whole body felt as if it were alight, euphoria coursing through her every vein. Warm tears threatened to form in the corners of her eyes as she unraveled around him. He took just a few deep swallows before breaking away, a trail of red dripping from the edge of his mouth. 

“Dafni…” His fingers laced through hers pressing her hand to his heart, a steady thump jumping beneath her trembling palm. 

A glimmer of remembrance tugged at the back of her mind. A taste of something once known, lost to time. Dafni tried to chase the sensation but it was gone as quickly as it came, hidden beyond the bittersweet veil of mortality with her idyllic memories of Arvandor. 

Though she’d only known him for a short time, the friendship that had blossomed between them meant more to her than she’d dare say. She thanked the Gods for allowing him to fall so serendipitously into her life. She’d grown quite attached to all of her new friends, of course! But, there was something about Astarion and the easy familiarity between them that felt so very right. 

Her thoughts drifted to their conversation in the hag’s cottage. He’d spoken as if he’d known her for centuries then days. He had no recollection of their conversation when he awoke the following morning. In truth, Dafni had been a bit relieved. 

However, he came to know her true name- Whoever he might have been to her so many lifetimes ago, it didn’t matter. What mattered was the here and now, the people they were in this lifetime, and the person he now did not need the burden of any past affections he may or may not have had muddying the waters.

 If Astarion was to care for her, let it be on his own terms, free of influence and expectation. If by some slim chance, more memories resurfaced, they could deal with it then. Until that moment, if it ever came, she would continue nurturing their friendship and allow the tenderness budding between them to grow in its own time.

His hips slapped against hers with increasing desperation. His eyes were heavily lidded, a subtle flush glowing across his cheeks and the tips of his ears. His hold on her left hand tightening with every movement. Her intimate muscles tensed around him in the aftershock of her climax. His cock twitched, emptying inside her with a low, gratified sound. 

“You are an incredibly seductive little pixie.” He dropped to his forearm, his full weight pressing down against her, “I was sent out to bring you back to help pack and somehow I ended up naked in the woods with a ravished cleric.”

“I’m innocent in this situation!” Dafni chirped with laughter, gently freeing herself from his smothering tangle of willowy limbs. “I was seduced!” Astarion resisted her attempts to disentangle with playful flare. A flash of pearly fangs glinting beneath his upturned lips before landing on the ground beside her with a soft thud. Dafni rolled to her side, her hair tumbling down her bare shoulders as she came to rest on the swell of her hip, “I like seeing you smile, I wish you did that more often.”

“I promise to smile all you like if you come back and help me pack our things for the Underdark.” He quipped tapping his index finger to the upturned tip of her nose.

[mechamal]

Oath of the Ancients

The following is a character building exercise I did for a new D&D character. A half wood elf Oath of the Ancients paladin. I wrote a short scene for each of the four tenants of this Oath for her. 

Kindle the Light. Through your acts of mercy, kindness, and forgiveness, kindle the light of hope in the world, beating back despair.

Thunder roared overhead. Breaking up the sound of the pouring rain. Soaked in the rain, a teenage half elf made her way into a small cave. A struggling fire just barely burning, next to an Eladrin man, resting on a makeshift bed of scavenged materials. “I’m back. I should have everything I need…” Faelyn said. Shivering as she knelt by the fire, seeking its warmth, and its light for what she had to do now. 

Carefully, she laid out her herbalism kit, and a set of herbs she’d collected, damp from rain. Placing a hand on the man’s forehead, she frowned. The fever was getting worse. He was delirious, mumbling in his sleep. Venom from a snakebite coursing through his veins. Faelyn replaced the damp cloth on his forehead with a fresh cool one. Thankfully with the rain, there was no shortage of cool water to use. 

Carefully, she held the herbs up by the fire to dry them, careful not to let the fire consume them. And then she set to work with mortar and pestle.Carefully mixing the herbs into an antitoxin.

“Drink this. It should help bring your fever down.” She said, bringing the mixing bowl to his lips. Gently helping him to swallow.

 She stayed with him, watching over him. And after a while, his fever began to break. Still weak from the poison, but the worst was over. He looked up to her, becoming lucid once more. “Who…are you? Why are you…”

 As his vision cleared, he saw the young half elf. Long, dark ginger hair. Ears pointed, though not much longer than human. Her face fair and lightly freckled. Gentle green eyes looking down at him with concern. “You needed help. What other reason should I need to help someone? Take it easy. You should be fine come morning, but you’ll need your rest.”

 Exhausted, the Eladrin closed his eyes. While the Eladrin didn’t sleep the same way humans did, or half elves like Faelyn, he was still weak and would need to rest to recover his strength. When dawn came, he awoke from his trance, to find no sign of the girl, save for the now dying remains of the fire and the makeshift bed he was laying in.

Shelter the Light. Where there is good, beauty, love, and laughter in the world, stand against the wickedness that would swallow it. Where life flourishes, stand against the forces that would render it barren.

The sound of splintering wood filled the air as the Kurshisei’s battle hammer struck Faelyn’s shield. Three glowing red eyes staring down at Faelyn. Four imposing, curved horns growing from its head. Dark, bark like skin covered in tribal clothing. 

Behind Faelyn lay her scouting partner. An Agorasar Wood Elf. The fiend had taken them by surprise, and now Faelyn’s partner lay bloodied and unconscious, but alive. For now. Not the best start to their first outing on their own. Faelyn panted for breath, staggering back from the blow. “Run little half blood.” The fiend said, lips curled into a cruel grin. 

Glaring, Faelyn gripped her mace and lashed out, striking at the field. The weapon crashed into the Kurshisei’s bark like skin.The fiend snarled, and quickly retaliated. Striking first with its hand, its rough skin slapping against Faelyn’s face and drawing blood, before bringing the hammer against Faelyn’s gut.

 The half elf fell to the ground beside her partner. The fiend raised its hammer, aiming to bring it down on the unconscious wood elf. With a cry, Faelyn lunged herself between the two. What was left of her shield ramming into the hammer mid strike, throwing the blow off course, but smashing through the shield to wound Faelyn’s arm instead.

 Faelyn lashed out with her mace again, but this time the Kurshisei deflected her blow, knocking the weapon from Faelyn’s grasp. Another blow striking her ribs, along with the sound of cracking bone. The fiend raised its weapon again. Faelyn threw herself over the fallen wood elf to shelter her, bracing herself for the crushing blow to come.

 It never did. Instead, she heard the fiend cry out in pain as arrow after arrow pierced its skin. More of the Agorasar emerging from the forest, coming to their aid. Tears of joy and relief filling her eyes as she lost consciousness.

Preserve Your Own Light. Delight in song and laughter, in beauty and art. If you allow the light to die in your own heart, you can't preserve it in the world.

Faelyn sat alone atop a tree stump. Resting in a small clearing not far from home. A cloudy spring day, though no rain. Her heart heavy with grief. In her hands she held a lyre. Her mother’s lyre. Now hers. 

She’d known this day was coming. Every passing year, her mother had grown older. Slower. Weaker. Succumbing to age, while Faelyn and her father seemed almost frozen in time. Faelyn knew of course, that she wouldn’t live as long as a full blooded elf. How many years until this happened to her? Would her father have to watch the same thing happen, as he went on to live centuries more?

 Faelyn plucked at the strings gently. The instrument clumsy in her hands. The last few years had been hard. But even knowing this would happen, she still felt a gaping hole in her heart. A pain that wouldn’t cease.

 Looking down at the lyre, Faelyn remembered the songs her mother would play. How full of life she’d once been.That energy, the plucky spirit her father had fallen for. She began to play. One of her mother’s old songs. She couldn’t seem to get it just right. Her fingers a little too slow. Not always hitting quite the right note. But she kept on playing. Like the old rituals of the Elders, names long forgotten to the passing of time, it didn’t matter if her memory was perfect. Only that she remembered.

 And she did remember. She remembered all the times her mother had helped her pick herself up after falling. Words of encouragement when things seemed too difficult. How fierce she’d been in battle. How gentle she’d been tending to Faelyn when she was ill. How she’d never doubted her. Faelyn remembered the music, song and dance. The times the three of them had been together. That however fleeting that time had been, they’d been happy.

 She remembered that joy as she played. Singing softly in elvish. She would always miss her mother. And it was no sin to grieve. But she’d been left with so much more than sorrow. She had been so much more than a sickly old woman, unable to rise out of bed on her own. And Faelyn would remember her strength. Her courage. Her joy. And they would always be a part of her too.

Be the Light. Be a glorious beacon for all who live in despair. Let the light of your joy and courage shine forth in all your deeds.

There is a strength in joy. In hope. In refusing to yield to evil. To many, we Agorasar are nothing more than thieves and terrorists. To the Recalli, we are fools, fighting for a lost cause. But we are all, each of us, a part of this world. To hide away from the world, to isolate one’s selves and close off your hearts to others, that is folly.

 We will resist. We will not yield. Not to the will of Titania, and not to the cynical cowardice of the Recalli. Though at times the road ahead seems long and hopeless, we will not give in to despair. We will not surrender our freedom, nor the simple joys of life that give us strength.

 We will fight, resist, and hold onto our ways. And one day, be it tomorrow or generations from now, we will be victorious. Theor and the Feywild will be free once again. In our perseverance, we will be a beacon to light the way.

 Far too many have forgotten what Titania has taken from her people. But we will not forget. However long it may take, we will not let go of our light.