#maybe i could draw aylin's outfit next?

[imtrashraccoon]

Chapter 4!

It took some time but the next addition to the story I am obsessed with telling is here!

Please be aware that there is a failed suicide attempt in this chapter. Also gaslighting and hallucinations. No shame if you would rather skip it as I have marked the section it starts at.

Otherwise, I drew more art for the flora featured so far!

Poison Silverleaf:

- Commonly known as Silverleaf, this plant is cultivated for its silver leaves that turn iridescent under the light of the moon. While everyone knows the plant itself is toxic to animals, only the best herbalists and gardeners know that when the juice from the berries is concentrated and heated up, it turns into an incredibly deadly poison. Anyone who ingests even a drop, will suffer from heart failure within the hour and many important officials have been murdered from their own gardens.

- The plant becomes a rather large bush that is often trimmed into various shapes for decoration. It has small silver leaves and produces small blue berries in vast quantities during the warm months.

- The plant is purely decorative and none of it should be eaten because of the toxicity. Depending on the amount ingested, you could be sick for many days with intense abdominal and chest pain. The plant is rather bitter though which keeps most people from actually consuming that much.

Bitter Root:

- Named for the extreme flavour the root has, this herb is another commonly used remedy, mostly for nausea and improving stomach discomfort. Generally, it is made into a tea but is not uncommon to add it to meals as cooking does lessen the bitterness a little.

- The root is light brown and grows in such a way that looks knobby. The plant part grows up to a foot tall and has narrow pink leaves and stems. It can become quite bushy if not trimmed back but is very easily propagated. (I was actually inspired by ginger root if that wasn't already obvious.)

- It is easily foraged and many gatherers make a pretty penny collecting them. Some prefer to grow it themselves though as it can take a while for natural growths to recover if over harvested. It takes at least 3 months to mature and only gets bigger over time, easily surviving the cold months and continuing to grow in the next year.

Touch-Me-Not:

- This plant grows rather tall and can reach 4 feet on average. It has a thick brown stalk with long leaves that branch from the base and reach about 3 feet in height. The top of the stalk ends in a bristle-like bunch of small red flowers.

- The plant itself is often used to make baskets or other weaved things because it's very strong when dried properly. The flower has a very strong scent and it's pollen acts as an allergen if you touch it. You'll probably get a small rash where it touches your bare skin. (I was inspired by a plant that is rather common along highways where I live called Poison Sumac.)

- Traditionally, the flowers are burned to get rid of pests like insects and small animals. Inhalation of the smoke is harmful even to humans and great care must be taken when using it.

[bg-brainrot]

Day 8 of the BG3 Holiday Challenge with some found family <3

Prompt: Chosen Family

Featuring: Astarion x Rogue!Tav

Series: Fits into Love at First Knife, AO3 link here

Premise: You don’t have any family left in Baldur’s Gate, so when it comes time to celebrate Midwinter, you invite the family you do have: all of your old companions that can make it. Shadowheart, Gale, Halsin, and a few others join you for a meal and gift exchange. 

Tags: POV Second Person, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Fluff, Holidays, post-canon, chosen family, extended family of ragtag adventurers, even volo is included

Word count: ~1.4k

“My dear, I’m afraid that staring at the clock won’t make our guests arrive any faster.” You turn to see Astarion standing at the doorway to your drawing room, holding a stack of letters. He’s dressed impeccably in his holiday best, even sporting a small red poinsettia in his lapel. Initially, he’d resisted the festive addition, but you reminded him that, while mild, a poinsettia is poisonous. Not a moment later the flower had found its way into his outfit.

You’re also adorned festively, a bright branch of holly weaved into your belt. Dressed to impress and ready to party for the Midwinter celebration, all that’s left are your guests– which aren’t due for another ten minutes. You sigh at Astarion’s words, knowing that he’s right. “How else am I supposed to spend the time?”

Astarion walks over to your seat on the coach and hands you half of the stack of letters. “Well, I figured this might be a fantastic opportunity to make sure we had an accurate headcount. In case we need to ask Gale to conjure any chairs.”

You take the letters gratefully and pat the seat next to you. He sits and you begin to sort through the papers. “Good idea, let’s see…” The first letter is from Alfira. It’s a lovely little letter, thanking you for the invitation, detailing her Midwinter plans with Lakrissa, and ending with a short little poem for the holiday. “Alfira already had plans.”

“Oh good,” Astarion says with a small clap. “I don’t think my poor ears could take yet another rendition of the Twelve Days of Midwinter.” He waves the letter in his hand as he follows up with, “Rolan also already had plans, something about Cal and Lia wanting to travel for the holiday.”

“Maybe we should have done that,” you say to Astarion, filled with more dread at hosting a party for your closest friends than you’ve had fighting any monster.

He knows you don’t really mean it, but agrees anyway. “We still have time to escape! I hear the feywild has some lovely weather.”

“How would we get to the feywild?” you ask, taking a look at the next letter in your stack.

“I don’t know, we’d figure it out,” he responds, before rolling his eyes at the letter he’s holding. “Why did you even invite Volo?”

You shrug, honestly unsure what compelled you. “He seems lonely, I guess?”

“Well, he’s still a yes,” Astarion says, grimacing.

“Good, I suppose.” You wave the letter in your hand at him, before adding, “Dame Aylin and Isobel can’t make it. Something about seeing Midwinter's arrival in each others’ arms.”

“But of course. We could have done the same, you know.” 

Your love gives you a suggestive look, which you smack with your next letter. “Stop tempting me! I know we can do this, and apparently the guests we do have are looking forward to it. Remember, Gale’s immediate yes? He’s even bringing Tara.”

“Do you suppose she requires her own chair?” Astarion asks, tapping his chin with what could only be Shadowheart’s letter, its writing neat and flowing.

“I think I already took her into account for chairs.” You’re positive you had, lest you offend the great Tara. “Is that Shadowheart’s response? Did she send an update?”

Astarion looks down at the letter, as if he'd forgotten that he was holding it. “Let's see. It says, ‘Don't worry, I'm still able to make it. Is it alright if I bring the owlbear? I wasn't able to find someone to watch him.'"

You stare at Astarion who only stares back. You break the silence to ask the question on both of your minds, "Where will we put him?"

"Perhaps Gale can shrink him for the night?"

"Good idea," you say with a nod and move on to the next letter in your stack. It's a short missive from Dammon. An appreciative message, though he already has Midwinter plans as well. “Dammon was a no.”

Your love smirks, giving you a knowing look. “Likely because Karlach couldn’t make it. Still can’t make it I take it?”

“Karlach and Wyll gratefully declined,” you say, holding up their letter. It’s been written quickly, has some scorched edges, and smells deeply of sulfur– truly no mystery as to why they couldn’t make it. “But Halsin said he would be here.”

"Someone, who I think is Withers, just sent back 'no'. Hmm." Astarion looks at the small piece of parchment containing the singular word and holds it up to you. “Why did you invite Withers? Scratch that, how did you invite Withers?”

You simply raise a shoulder in a noncommittal shrug and say, “It felt rude not to invite him.”

He looks at you for a second, as if pondering whether or not it’s worth digging into the ‘how’ when a knock sounds at the door. “Oh, I suppose our first guest has arrived. Would you like to wager on who it might be?”

“Why bother,” you say with a snort, setting aside the rest of the stack and heading to the door. “We both know it’s Gale.”

Astarion laughs at your confident proclamation, and laughs even harder when you open the door to a smiling wizard, dressed in what can only be considered a holiday robe, lit up with faerie lights. Tara stands next to him, proudly wearing a red ribbon.

“Welcome! Come in, come in,” you say, waving him into your house. Once they’ve entered, you give Gale a hearty hug and Tara a small bow, which she seems to appreciate. After you take his coat and they settle in, Astarion serves them both a drink, a wine for Gale, a bowl of broth for Tara.

You spend some time talking and catching up until your next guests arrive with a soft knock. 

At the door is Shadowheart, wearing a markedly less ostentatious holiday outfit, a simple green sweater with silver pants, followed closely by a large owlbear. After a quick bit of magic from Gale, they both make their way inside to warm hugs and their own drinks. 

They’re just about sitting down when another knock comes.

The night continues in much the same fashion as Halsin arrives, then Volo, then Jaheira with several of her children in tow. Then, just when you think no one else will arrive, Minsc shows up with Boo wearing a single jolly bell.

The entire group settles in for drinks, food, and merriment, discussing all that they’ve been up to since you’ve last gotten together. The company is lively, the atmosphere warm, and you’re immensely satisfied with the outcome of your efforts as you finally take a seat next to Astarion. You begin to wonder why you were worried about hosting this at all.

Ahead of the party, you hadn’t received a response from Lae’zel. She was likely too busy in the Astral Plane to respond, so you tried not to think too much of it. However, partway through the night you receive a message from her through a Sending spell: “This is Lae’zel. Apologies, I’m indisposed. I’ve been informed Midwinter is a celebration, so consider this my celebratory message.”

You laugh and send your own message back, “Thank you, Lae’zel. Hope to see you for the next one!”

Astarion smiles at you once you relay the message to the group, squeezing your hand in his. He knew you’d been worried about her despite it all, and knowing that she, too, was alive and safe would finally set your mind at ease. And it did– like something that was missing finally clicked into place and you could just breathe.

You knew that not everyone would be able to make it, and you’re still not confident in your hosting abilities, but somehow, you’re still so very content. Something about sitting in a room with your love, your closest friends, and even Volo, fills you with so much hope for the upcoming spring.

When the group lifts their glasses to cheer for all that you’ve accomplished this year, the trials and tribulations you’ve overcome together, you can’t help but add, “And to the family we’ve made along the way. May we always find our way back to one another!”

The night passes in a haze of joy and love– somehow, by the end of it, you've agreed to host again next year. You can feel Astarion's amusement as he chuckles and holds you close.