#no fucking pressure edér

[perenians]

"What's she like?" Ahria asks. She finally looks at him, the light of the moon reflecting off her eyes. "Elafa, I mean."

"Well," Edér starts. "We used to, uh. Get together, every so often. Told you as much already. She was covered in freckles. Red hair, brown eyes, about yea high," he holds up a hand around his chest, "but with the temper of a giant. And, uh, real punch-happy." He rubs the side of his arm absently, remembering some of her more spirited hits.

"She had a Hollowborn baby, last I saw her," he says. "Helped'em escape to New Heomar. And now it turns out she's in the Deadfire, same as us."

Ahria hums in acknowledgment, watching him intently. "You miss her?"

"Sometimes," he admits. "Sometimes I think I might just miss the times before the war. Before the Purges, even." He huffs a laugh. "I thought things were bad then. Never imagined I'd have to worry about my god rippin' the souls right out of kith and maybe endin' the world."

Ahria exhales. "Me neither," she says, and Edér grins humorlessly.

"'Least we got you to save it."

[adraveins]

OC Wedding Meme

Tagged by @rannadylin, thank you! This actually got me thinking, and I’m going to do it differently and go off on a tangent. Tagging @yanara126,  @orime-stories, @shimmer-like-agirl, @brightoncemore​, @rainbowtroutlesbian​, and @babineni​ if you want, and anyone who sees this and wants to give it a go! And here is the original meme if you’d prefer.

Neither Kit nor Hakona have a set concept of “marriage.” They both grew up in culturally mixed groups, and Kit was raised among a bunch of social oddballs in the Living Lands, while Hakona’s Glamfellen clan ostracized her and her mother and also did not have a concept of marriage. Her mother taking a partner later in life has more to do with influence from the trading post they lived in.

But! They both have Eothasian partners, and I’m thinking about how they would react to that.

(I think I make characters like this because I’ve resented the pressure of marriage since I was little. It’s not for me. But I’m also interested in it as a concept that has nothing to do with me, and I should probably consider it for these characters, hah.)

Kit:

Edér, I think, wouldn’t give it too much thought at first, mainly because Kit’s never brought up anything of the sort, and is disdainful towards the idea of marrying as a Dyrwoodan thaynu. In this house we give Edér better Deadfire characterization, and he would have grappled with the fact that it was always an expectation and maybe the expectations of small town life just don’t fit him anymore. (Me? Projecting?) But he would think about it, especially after respective visits to the parents, who live in Aedyr and Old Vailia, where such things are also expected and common. (I am... trying to chip away at fics for this.)

Kit is a bastard child, and the best way to legitimize any claim to a duchy of Old Vailia would be to marry, and of course she’s like “fuck no, I don’t want any of that.” So Edér would be thinking about it in general and wondering if it’s something that Kit would want at all, and when he finally works up to asking about her feelings on marriage, she’s like, “Huh? Sure. If you want,” because she doesn’t have strong feelings on it either way. But that would start her thinking about it, and ultimately I think she’d like the sense of stability/long-term commitment it provides (Miss Abandonment Issues, after all), and she’d want to secure the legal aspects for him, too.

(You know that Star Wars post that says that, realistically, it would be Han taking Leia’s name because she’s a princess/senator, and it would get him into restaurants and shit for free? Edér would absolutely be doing that in Old Vailia with Kit’s birth surname, marriage or no.)

As for Ydwin, at most, she and Kit would only bother with it for legal purposes, since Ydwin is Glamfellen and wouldn’t give a damn. I don’t think either of them would think about it otherwise.

If we’re talking about an OT3 situation (as a V, obviously, I read Ydwin as a lesbian), then it wouldn’t be a big thing because the Dyrwood is an offshoot of Aedyr, and polyamorous marriages are not uncommon there. So Edér wouldn’t mind, and neither would Ydwin, because having multiple partners isn’t of particular note among the Glamfellen either. Kit, of course, would be unfazed because her concept of marriage and partnering isn’t strong to begin with.

I don’t think Ydwin would want much pomp and circumstance, either way. She’s this post:

So I went looking for outfits that would suit Kit. I can’t remember anything about marriage traditions in the lore, and I’m too tired to go looking for that too, but I think Kit would be into creating her own. She would be okay with using her birth parents’ colors (gold and deep blue), and she’s not a dress-wearing type or into anything too fancy, so I found this:

With gold trim instead? *chef kiss*

And gift-giving is very much one of Kit’s love languages, and she likes to create, so exchanging gifts would be part of it. She’d craft something similar to her adra pendant for Edér, but meant for protection instead and in the form of whatever he’d be comfortable wearing. A ring, a necklace, whatever.

She’s hard to give gifts to, however, because she’s not really a things person, so Edér would probably be agonizing over it. He’d settle on some kind of adornment for her hair, finally, because her braids are really the only part of her appearance that she pays attention to, and it would something small and easy to carry around, which is what Kit prefers.

Hakona:

Xoti similarly has those expectations, and in this house we give her better Deadfire characterization too, so she’s got to get to the root of why she’s so hell-bent on finding a partner and find a healthier expression for that. Of course, it has to do with the fact that she’s always been an oddball going against the grain. (Me? Projecting some more?) And marriage is a tolerable compromise of doing the expected, because she is a romantic at heart, and she’s lonely.

So Xoti is always thinking about it, and Hakona, meanwhile, doesn’t think about it at all. I’ve been toying with the idea that maybe she had some light flirtations among the Bleak Walkers, because even though they’re fucked up, people are people. But it didn’t go far, and honestly, she doesn’t have a lot of experience with partnering in general, either personal or cultural. Xoti is the first time she feels that strongly about someone, and it’s through their cultural mismatch that Xoti examines her issues surrounding marriage/partnering (mostly through having to explain to Hakona, who doesn’t Get It). Hakona, meanwhile, actually gives it some deep consideration, as a result of Xoti’s interest, and has a “well, sure, why not?” reaction like Kit’s, lol.

And Hakona is very devoted and ride-or-die when she’s all in, much like Xoti, so marriage suits them, conceptually. I’m thinking that Hakona kicks off her official new order of paladins with a formal wedding to make it really pop, as a symbolic marrying of ideals, hers to Xoti’s, as well.

For Hakona’s outfit, she’s not much of a dress person either, as she leans towards maximum practicality, so nothing overwrought. Her mother would make her outfit, and it would be similar to this:

With designs incorporating aspects of Hakona’s life: fire, her nature as a Watcher, her newfound devotion to Berath, etc.

And again, I don’t remember anything about marriage traditions in the lore, but Xoti would be way into the fun and pomp of it no matter what, so they’d talk about what Readceran/Eothasian traditions to bring into the fold as well.

[stylishanachronism]

So it is in fact Watcher Wednesday, I have a headache, the neighbors are still firing off fireworks and setting off all the car alarms on that side of the street, here’s a sliver of an essay about Pillars of Eternity and sheep.

So if you’ve been following along at all, you’ll know I have a dearly held headcanon that Edér, outside of seasonal agricultural work, supports himself by knitting elaborate ring lace shawls (no seriously what the fuck is he supposed to be doing all year Obsidian answer me who is making his socks), because canonically most of the Dyrwood’s production is tied up in fancy wool and fancy timber. More specifically, per the guidebook, “Wyr (“wire” - Aedyran) wool, gal glas (“green thorn” - Glanfathan) timber, Glanfathan deer hide, tin, lead, iron, copper.” (PGB1, pg 48), and it’s telling that the particular types of wool and timber are specified, as they aren’t for any other country(1). This is surprisingly well supported in game, between the set dressing in the Gift, the shipwreck scavengers beneath the bridge, and Dyrford’s main industry, namely tanning and dyework, as well as the lack of either crop industry on a wide scale, or food prepared for shipment in the Gift. (It does raise the question of ‘where are all the sheep’, but considering Obsidian knows nothing about textiles and the fact adding Yet Another model probably wasn’t the best use of their time, I’m cross about it but I’ll excuse it)

Fun fact: shipping roving is a waste of everybody’s time. Shipping thread on a scale that would enable somebody else to turn it into cloth is less so, but it’s significantly more expensive. Cloth takes up a lot less space than either option (especially roving), and is a lot harder to damage/a lot easier to protect during the process, especially since there’s a smidge more evidence(2) that wyr wool is a fine, light, long fiber wool, and therefore prone to matting in its base state.

This is not in the game at all, and barely barely barely in the guidebooks, but that set of facts means the Dyrwood is probably known for its weavers and knitters, and they probably import a lot more dye than even Aedyr, who are implicated to buy dyed in the wool textiles(3), which leads to the idea that the Dyrwood and Readceras have very strong economic reasons to get over their differences, (which is openly canon, but without explanation) and in the meantime Stalwart’s smuggling business? Almost entirely dye into the Dyrwood. The same economic pressure would explain why Aedyr was so eager to go back to trading with them, instead of being deeply pissy about dealing with a ‘failed’ colony, as they are with Readceras.(4)

On another tack, this takes everything about the Pearl Bluffs and makes it actually relevant to Defiance Bay as a city, because shelling out municipal funds on adventurers because one of your priestesses is having bad symbolic dreams is... a little sketchy, considering the state of the city, but if hiring those adventurers also gets rid of a major predator in the closest accessible good grazing land? Sheep are much more valuable than dreams, and that’s a reasonable expense. (It also explains why there’s absolutely nothing there, because local grazing land > mildly inaccessible but well placed military infastructure, because if I was worried about invasions by sea (which Defiance Bay canonically is), having some sort of lookout on the cliffs above the port would be a good idea, but not if it would hurt the city’s main industry.)(5)

Circling back around to the lack of crop industry, I know mechanically nobody wanted to animate Yet Another field of wheat (or what have you. There’s a lot of options there but they didn’t put it in so We Just Don’t Know(6)), and so it’s not that they don’t exist it’s that they aren’t pictured, just like the dozens and dozens of little towns that ought to be peppered across the place, which must exist but aren’t pictured (or named), but like... I desperately want to know what Obsidian thought everybody was doing all year, and where they were supposed to be living. (Let’s face it, I want a real map, with county lines and everything.) I am, obviously, proposing that in addition to the many many necessary industries (coopers! more blacksmiths! every single citizen from the age of being able to hold a pair of needles knits and spins so they don’t go naked! glaizers! lumberjacks! carpenters! butchers! I could go on!), that pretty much everybody is involved in some sort of fiber production, mostly wool but linen as well (preparing flax is No Joke), or otherwise dye preparation in some form or other, but like... what did Obsidian think. Where are the sheep?

Footnotes:

1: Per the guidebook: Readceras produces “Vorlas (purple dye), corn, corn flour, wool, cotton (minimal), lumber“ (pg 50), the Republics “Iron, copper, silver, glassworks, ships, spices, clocks, and astronomical equipment” (pg 52), Aedyr “Iron, fine steel, cotton, dyes, lumber (a major export of many varieties), spices” (pg 54), and Eir Glanfath “Gal glas (“green thorn” - Glanfathan) timber, Glanfathan deer hide, gold, adra shell (the odd shell material found in Engwithan ruins), rare fungi“ (pg 57) even though their exporting adra makes zero goddamned sense. No other countries/cultures have listed products, though Deadfire made a good effort at showing the exports of individual cities in the Deadfire. I’m not citing it because I’m too lazy to go copy all that shit down by hand, though.

2: The evidence on wyr wool is, very basically, it’s either a long fiber wool (wire like, able to be drawn very fine), or a short fiber wool (wiry, coarse). Long fiber wool is more desirable, and more likely to be specified out on a consumer level, versus a more ordinary short fiber wool, where knowing the provenance really wouldn’t change much. Long fiber is also a much lighter wool, the sheep more delicate (not by much, but still), and the Dyrwood’s climate as shown doesn’t particularly require a hardier sheep. Without actual sheep to look at, or somebody on staff with enough textile knowledge to incorporate said knowledge literally anywhere, there’s not a ton of evidence either way, but I have my biases, and finer wool suits them so that’s the argument I’m making.

3: “Aedyran clothing is known for being relatively simple in construction and often using large, colorful striped or checkered patterns for accents.” (pg 54) Trying to dye stripes is a misery. Trying to dye checks is worse. Weaving stripes or checks, on the other hand, is very, very easy, but requires you to dye the thread before it’s processed.

4: I would cite the guidebooks here, but since they never actually come out and say ‘there was five years of famine and it was not great’, I can’t, but uh, there was (at least) five years of famine and it was not great. A fraction of the population wandered off to make candles in sufficient quantities that they’re a minor Dyrwodian import (”Many a Dyrwoodan lord who illuminated their keep (and cursed all Readcerans) unknowingly did so by the light of Eothasian candles.” (PGB2, pg 81), in reference to The Bright Shephards, said fraction with the candles), and another went to the Deadfire, where they were delighted to finally be successful farmers (”To the delight of these wayward pilgrims, their crops took to Deadfire soil better than they had in Readceras,” (pg 80), in reference to the Children of the Dawnstars), even though they... don’t actually grow anything in common with Readceras, and meanwhile Aedyr continued to be dicks about the whole mess, even as Readceras proper finally got their feet under themselves, and managed to get the Vorlas properly established to the point where it’s their main export. (Look, Vorlas is fantasy indigo, and indigo takes a couple of years to like, not die at the first hint of literally anything going wrong. It’s more finicky than roses, especially since they’re not growing it in a region it’s built for, there’s a reason everything went to shit.)

5: It also explains some of the bounties, because ‘dangerous thing that only bothers *really* stupid travelers’ is a much smaller problem than ‘dangerous thing that bothers fairly defenseless essential livelihoods’. Also mechanically you’re paid for the Caed Nua bounties but like... Caed Nua is setting the bounty? so you aren’t being paid you’re just saving the house a lot of money to get somebody else to do it. You need to defend your sheep as well as your roads, I guess is what I’m saying?

6: Look, someday I will dig through every recipe I can get my hands on, in game or in the cookbook, and come up with a list of things the Dyrwood probably grows for food, but today is not that day, so right now your guess is as good as mine, as long as your guess is ‘not corn’.

[queen-scribbles]

Legends

Kei had been raised on legends of kraken.

Over the years, they went from bogey-monsters that would eat her toes if she got out of bed during the night, to pure myth, to real but rarely sighted leviathans that lurked in the deepest waters of the Deadfire 

And then she killed one. In a frozen lake under a fragment of a fallen moon, smack in the middle of the White March mountains. Seeing one herself, she thanked every god that came to mind the terrain worked to her advantage and prayed she never had to fight one of these monsters--which could easily swallow her or any of her friends whole--in its natural habitat.

Like so many other things she’d prayed for, the gods had very different--opposite in fact--plans.

It came in the middle of the night, well after the gentle patter of rain on the window had lulled her to sleep. A lurching stop, warning cries from up on deck, and the vague shadow of something big visible outside her cabin window, even through the rain. She didn’t even dare pause long enough to don her armor, just grabbed sword and shield and headed for the deck. The earlier drizzle had worsened into a torrential rainstorm that quickly soaked through her clothes and severely curtailed visibility.

Still, it was hard to miss the massive form that reared up over the starboard rail. Even as Kei took rapid stock of the situation, tried to process that they were being attacked by a kraken of all things(she’d almost have preferred fighting that vithrak pirate again), she caught the silhouette of a torso-thick tentacle swinging toward the deck from the opposite side of the ship. She was already moving, stumbling across the rain-slicked deck, before she’d calculated where the tentacle would hit.

And who was in its path.

The rocking of the ship threw off her aim, but Kei still managed to grab Tekēhu’s arm and half-spin, half-yank him out of the way just before the tentacle smacked into the deck hard enough to dent the boards and send up a shower of splinters. The two of them slammed into the mast but caught their balance a moment later.

Tekēhu grinned. “My thanks, Captain.”

Kei matched the grin as she dashed water from her eyes. “Would have been a bullshit end for Ngati’s favorite, and we wouldn’t want that.”

He laughed, the sound rising in harmony with yet defiance of the storm. “Very true, indeed. Let us vanquish this monster, instead, I say.” He tugged her down as the writhing tentacle swung toward their heads. “And add another impossible feat to our own legend.”

She shook her head at his teasing enthusiasm, water flying from her hair. “I’ll settle for driving it off before it sinks my damn ship!”

As if to underscore her sentiment, the kraken bellowed and slammed another tentacle to the deck, splintering the rail and knocking several crates into the turbulent water.

“Don’t let it wrap around!” Kei hollered, pushing off the mast with her shield arm to hack at the tentacle trying to do just that. It took three blows of her sword to cut away the upper part. The kraken screeched as it flailed the maimed tentacle away, knocking Irrena and Kostanten perilously close to the shattered rail as it withdrew. They caught their balance just in time.

Several frustrating minutes passed, where no one armed with guns or melee weapons could do much damage to the beast itself, thanks to either the pouring rain or the distance. Kei lost track of how many times she or Edér or Rekke wound up sprawled on their backside for trying. But there was only so much good that could be done hacking off tentacles; it would take more serious injury to drive away this beast.

Finally, however, the rain started to slack off even if the kraken didn’t relent. Indeed, it appeared the barrage of spells--along with several lost tentacles--it had suffered made it all the more determined to drag this ship down. Or at least exact recompense in kith’s lives. The tentacles not trying to curl around the Defiant or too badly injured swept toward sailors and companions alike, and there was only so much dodging one could do while also keeping the beast at bay. It showed particular malevolence toward Xoti, Aloth, and Tekēhu--the ones doing the most damage. Kei deflected so many hefty blows from arrow-pricked or bleeding tentacles in their defense, her shield arm started to go numb.

Xoti jumped a tentacle swiping at her legs and took advantage of the increased visibility to drop a pillar of fire on the kraken’s face.

It screeched and reared back, and a few seconds later came a muffled bellow belowdecks as a pair of the Defiant’s cannons took the opening to fire. Another, even angrier, screech filled the air and the tentacles snaking across the deck jerked back toward the water. One snapped a yardarm as it went, forcing several of the crew to scramble aside as the spar swung down toward the deck.

“Get this thing off my ship!” Kei hollered in frustration, and though the words were lost to the wind, the cannons roared again as if in answer. Two of the tentacles went flying, blown off at the root.

The kraken thrashed, bellowing and screeching in turn, the remaining tentacles flailing in search of something to grab, a way to claim recompense for damage suffered. Every time one started to close around a sailor or other kith, however, someone nearby pulled them back or made it pay. Another volley of cannon shot thundered over the dying storm, the casters each hit it with spells in quick succession, orange flame and purple energy illuminating the barrage of thorns, and Rekke and Serafen each hurled bombs at its head.

This final assault was too much for the kraken. What tentacles remained on or around the ship withdrew, still twitching.

“Kuldrun, get us out of here!” Kei yelled hoarsely toward the quarterdeck. Kuldrun’s reply, if he made one, was lost to the weather and what she hoped were the death howls of the repelled leviathan as he brought the Defiant about. She made a quick scan of the deck as adrenaline faded into exhaustion. They’d taken a beating, but nothing that couldn’t be repaired, and it didn’t look like they’d lost anyone, which was a minor miracle--

As if in a final Fuck You to the meal that got away, a tentacle whipped through the air, wrapped around Kei’s hips, and yanked her into the air. Her sword and shield dropped from her relaxed grip, but even as she cursed the lack of weapons, the tentacle fell limply away. Not that that improved her situation much; she was now in freefall over a part of the ocean she knew contained a very pissed, very hurt kraken, not to mention the still-dizzying waves from the storm.

She was close enough to feel the spray from the waves and see the kraken’s blood staining the water when something else wrapped around her waist and suddenly she was flying back toward her ship. Kei’s hands instinctively went to the pressure around her midriff, found it malleable and... wet? Water?  

Tekēhu. She smirked as the water-tentacle twisted around so she could see the rapidly approaching ship, her friends’ worried faces, and Tekēhu towering over the rest of them as he concentrated on reeling her back in.

The Defiant rode up a wave at the worst possible moment and threw off Kei’s landing. She hit the deck at the wrong angle, barely got her arms under her to keep from cracking her head, heard something snap on impact, and rolled a couple times before running into a crate hard enough she just knew it was going to leave a  bruise. She sat up with a groan, shook her head to clear the dizziness, and sent Tekēhu a still-dazed grin.

“My hero,” she said glibly, leaning back against the crate she’d hit as she started tallying various aches. “Knew sweet-talking the Watershaper would pay off someday.”

Tekēhu chuckled, but she could see the worry lingering in his eyes as he glanced at the wrist she held cradled to her chest. “Ekera, Captain, I would have preferred not to injure you in the process.” 

“Of saving my life?” Kei finished for him. She pushed wet braids out of her face, winced at the sting as her hand grazed a cut on her forehead. “Trust me, this is vastly preferable to being kraken bait.” She tried to stand, but her knee and hip both flared with pain.

“Or drownin’“ Edér chipped in cheerfully as he helped Beodul tie down loose crates. 

“Or drowning,” she agreed with a nod.

“The ocean, of all things, is not allowed to take you from me,”Tekēhu said, and light-hearted as the comment sounded, Kei could hear the underlying seriousness in the words.

“It hasn’t yet,” she promised with a wink.

“Perhaps not, but you still need to see the surgeon, beloved,” he returned quietly as he crouched to help her stand. 

“No arguments here,” Kei grunted. Besides the various other bumps, bruises, and aches, she was fairly certain her left wrist was broken. “But surely there’s others who need it more.”

“That’s why you hired more than one,” Aloth countered as he raked hair out of his face. “For situations like this.”

“True.” But thinking about the healers made her mind leap elsewhere as Tekēhu guided her up to her feet. “Oh, gods, Vela!”

“I saw Daelia scoopin’ her up on my way to the deck, Kei,” Xoti said, looking up from the bruise on her arm with a smile meant to comfort despite the priestess’ large black eye. “I’m sure she’s fine.”

Kei’s knees wobbled, a combination of relief and pain, and Tekēhu caught her elbows to keep her upright. “Thanks,” she mumbled, her good hand clasped against his bicep.

The soft light of ship lanterns showed the mischief dancing in his eyes. “My pleasure, Captain. Now, let’s get you seen to.”

Even if she’d intended to protest--she hadn’t--the faintest brush of his hand against her injured wrist made her whimper. Tekēhu gently shifted them so her arm was around his shoulders to help her cross the deck.

Kei tripped over the threshold as they reached belowdecks, started to rest weight on her bad leg to compensate, and yelped as she promptly fell against Tekēhu’s chest. His arms wrapped around her in support, and he seemed content to let her take her time recovering from the slip.

“How long have you been dreaming of me all soaking wet and snuggled close like this?” Kei asked playfully.

Tekēhu chuckled. “More months than is likely wise to admit.” He carefully wiped blood off her forehead with his thumb. “The injuries are a less welcome addition, I say.”

You and me both. She laughed, rested her forehead against his temple. “That’s a relief. Might’ve had to end things if you were fantasizing about me getting the shit kicked out of me.”

“Perish the thought,” Tekēhu declared, pressing a tender kiss just below the cut on her forehead. “I’d much rather you whole and hardy, my lioness.” He winked. “There is much more fun to be had then.”

Kei raised a brow and smirked. “Well, if we stop flirting and start walking, I think one of the surgeons can help with that.”

He eased back ever so slightly. “You are ready to continue, then?”

She nodded. “Fun as it is to flirt with my handsome fish, I would prefer doing so without various background aches.”

Tekēhu grinned. “Your handsome fish would prefer that as well.” He nodded toward her cabin, the door still ajar from her earlier hasty exit. “What say you wait in there, while I fetch one of the surgeons, beloved?”

Kei hesitated. She hated to be so much trouble, but walking was an ordeal right now, and steps would be extra tricky… “I say that sounds like a good plan,” she finally nodded. “One that minimizes further jostling of my injuries and doesn’t risk you hurting yourself to help me.”

“Ekera, Kei, never fear on that count,” he protested, carefully shuffling them toward her cabin. “You would be worth a tumble down the stairs, I say.”

“Very romantic,” Kei deadpanned, but she couldn’t fight a smile. Her wrist twinged and she instinctively cradled it closer to her chest as Tekēhu helped her across the room to the wide seat under the window. 

He kissed the top edge of her forehead. “I’ll bring one of the surgeons with all haste, beloved.”

“Only if they’re not busy,” she called after him. Badly as parts of her hurt, she’d hate to pull Daelia or Tylla from someone who needed the patching up more.

Tekēhu didn’t reply, but she thought she saw him shake his head slightly before he was out of sight down the stairs.

As promised, he was back only a couple minutes later with Daelia right behind him--and a giggling Vela wrapped around his arm like a spider monkey.

She let go as soon as they passed the doorway and dashed across the cabin to perch on the corner of the bed. “Did you win, Mama?”

Kei chuckled. “We did. Is it that had to tell?”

Vela shrugged. “You us’lly don’t get hurt so bad when you win’s all.”

“Usually we’re not fighting something so big,” Kei said with a smile. “Did you stay with Aunt Daelia like I told you?”

Vela gave an emphatic nod. “I ‘membered what you said if anything happened to the ship. An’ I was good,” she added, anticipating the next question.

“She was,” Daelia confirmed with a chuckle as she rolled up her sleeves.

“Happy to hear that, and happy you’re both safe,” Kei said. “Were there a lot of injuries?”

“Mainly bruises and the like,” Daelia replied. “Tuliak’s shoulder got sliced open, so Tylla’s stitching her up. And what about you, Captain? Aside from the obvious”--she nodded toward Kei’s swollen wrist--”what other injuries did you sustain?”

Tekēhu sat next to Kei as she started to list off the ones she’d found, lacing his fingers between those of her good hand. Daelia pointed out an additional gash Kei hadn’t noticed across the inside of her arm just below her elbow.

“Best to take care of your wrist first, though,” she mused, “since that’s the most serious.”

“Won’t hear me complaining,” Kei muttered, squeezing Tekēhu’s hand. She glanced at Vela. “You don’t have to stay, sweetheart. It’s late; you can try to go to sleep.”

Vela shook her head and fiddled with her carved fox necklace, a gift from Sagani for her last birthday.”I know you’re okay even if it hurts, Mama. You’re very tough and very brave.” She wrapped her hand around the wooden pendent. “‘I’m not sleepy anymore, an’ I wanna see.”

“Ekera, it seems you have a surgeon in training here, Kei,” Tekēhu chuckled.

“Or else just an insatiably curious daughter,” Kei said wryly. “You can stay if you want, Vel.”

Vela nodded. “I do, Mama.”

“Alright, then.” It didn’t really surprise her Vela wanted to stay; both to be close and out of that insatiable curiosity. 

“Would you like a better seat, dear one?” Tekēhu asked, extending his arm toward Vela in clear invitation.

Another eager nod. “Thank you, Teku!” she effused as she climbed down from the bed and up into his lap. She giggled and made a face--“You’re all wet!”--but settled in regardless.

It made Kei smile, even as Daelia started feeling out the extent of damage to her wrist and the pain spiked. She tightened her grip on Tekēhu’s hand, teeth grinding together.

“Fairly simple fracture,” Daelia  commented. “Shouldn’t be hard to set straight.”

“Good,” Kei managed between clenched teeth.

Tekēhu leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. “Breathe, my lioness,” he whispered.

Kei pulled in and released a deep, slow breath at the remainder, and it did help. Daelia was as good as her word; she had Kei’s wrist set and splinted in short order, then set about tending the other injuries.

Despite her assertion of not being tired, Vela fell asleep halfway through, curled up against Tekēhu’s chest. He just shifted her more center on his lap with one arm and settled in again, hand still intertwined with Kei’s.

Finally, though, everything had been tended. Her hip was just bruised, she’d wrenched her knee, the gash on her arm had needed a few stitches, but the cut on her forehead wasn’t serious, just needed cleaning and would scab well enough. After Kei had thanked Daelia profusely for her help(and the pain draught that had her a very pleasant level of numb), the elf took her leave and Tekēhu very gently settled Vela on the bed.

He ran a slow, appraising look over Kei, taking long enough she finally arched a brow.

“What?”

Tekēhu chuckled quietly. “Just musing on the likelihood you would desire dry clothes before turning in, beloved.”

“And planning to offer your assistance?” she asked, smirking.

“Ekera, it is as if you read my mind,” he grinned. “You do only have one good hand at the moment. And I promise to behave myself with your daughter in the room and you so battered.”

“What a relief,” Kei deadpanned, mischief sparking in her eyes. “In that case, I accept.”

His grin widened, but he made no comment as he dug in her trunk for dry clothes, coming up with deep brown trousers and a short sleeved, off-white shirt.

“Good choice, with this,” Kei said wryly, briefly raising her splinted wrist.

“My thoughts exactly,” Tekēhu confirmed. He returned to his seat by her side, helped her gingerly remove her sodden clothes and dry off before just as carefully pulling on the new ones.

Once she was dressed, Kei paused to cup Tekēhu’s jaw with her good hand. “Thank you, Teku,” she whispered playfully, leaning in to kiss him.

His low laugh rumbled into the kiss. “It was my pleasure,” he murmured, then kissed her back. “And I won’t tell Vela you stole her nickname.”

“Borrowed,” Kei protested with a smile, resting her forehead against his. “Just this once.” She kissed him again.

“Ekera, beloved, you are making it quite difficult to keep my promise,” Tekēhu mumbled, breath ragged, between kisses. His hand cupped the back of her neck, fingers toying with the narrow braids.

“Which one?”

“To behave myself.”

She leaned more fiercely into the current kiss for a moment before pulling back. “Sorry.” She traced a finger down his cheek. “You’re just extra irresistible when you’re being sweet.”

He favored her with a warm smile for that, turned his head to lightly kiss her palm. “All the more reason to do it frequently, I say. But for now…” He reluctantly sat back. “I believe Daelia instructed you to rest?”

Kei nodded, letting her hand fall to her lap, the warmth of his skin lingering. “She did. And it is very late. Or is it early, now?”

Tekēhu chuckled, helped her stand. “I don’t imagine it makes much difference either way. You should go to bed.”

It was a short journey, but he didn’t let go until she was safely settled in bed. Vela easily shifted in her sleep to curl up snuggled with her mama. Kei ran a hand over her hair and looked up at Tekēhu. “Thank you,” she repeated. “For everything.”

He bent down and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “You are most welcome, my lioness. Though I do wish my help had not cost you such an injury.”

Not wanting to wake Vela, Kei rolled her eyes instead of scoffing. “And as I said, I’d rather have a broken wrist than be kraken bait. Thanks to you, my handsome fish, I lived to tell the tale. My wrist will heal.” She smiled. “Now, you should get some sleep as well; you look ready to fall over.”

“I would lie to deny it,” Tekēhu admitted with a wan smile. “So if you have no more need of your handsome fish tonight, Captain, I shall do as you say.”

I always need my handsome fish. Kei giggled and rolled her eyes again. “Goodnight, Tekēhu,” she said, patting the bed next to her and Vela.

His eyes fairly glowed as he accepted the unspoken invitation.

Kei had been right; he was asleep with his head on her shoulder mere seconds later. Her own lingering aches made it take a few minutes before she followed into slumber, and she didn’t truly mind. They’d fought a monster straight out of legend tonight and lived to tell the tale(grown their own legend in the process, she was sure he’d point out). Sleeping sandwiched between her two favorite people in Eora was as perfect a celebration as she could want for now.

Everything else could wait until daylight.

[adozentothedawn]

3, 11, 27 and 35 from the Character Development Questions for Favaen please!

My whole original answer for this was deleted. Fuck me. But goddamnit I will not bow down, I’ll do this whole thing again! So here we go! Questions here, some more explanation to her childhood here.

3.  What is/was your character’s relationship with their father like?

Since Favaen hasn’t had any contact with her birth family since she was little, she doesn’t really have a distinct father figure. Though she doesn’t resent her birth parents anymore, she doesn’t consider them her parents. If she had to pick someone to call father though, it would be Waylon, her master in the five years she spent at an Abydon temple. Though he was never as affectionate as Ydona, her adoptive mother and subprioress at the Eothas temple she grew up in, he was always patient with her, never pressuring her and only pushing her enough to help her with her education. He taught her the value of patience and self-control, while being the centre of stability she desperately needed at that point in her life. He was essentially the epitome of “slow and steady wins the race”, and though Favaen herself is much more brash and passionate, she did take his lessons to heart and knows that sometimes it’s better to just take a step back and stand your ground instead of rushing forward. Even when she left his tutelage to become a priestess of Eothas, she kept contact with him with the occasional letter. It’s not really a very loving relationship, but one built on respect and understanding.

In a very abstract way, Eothas could be considered her father, but that is an interpretation of their relationship that Favaen never agreed with.

11. In what situation was your character the most afraid they’ve ever been?

This had me thinking for a while, because the thing is, Favaen doesn’t get scared easily. Upset, sure. Angry, definitely. But fear is based on uncertainty, which is something she has made the very deliberate choice to never feel again. Of course that doesn’t always work, but for the most part she’s pretty good at pushing any sense of doubt away.

So with that in mind, there are two times when she was truly, utterly afraid. One was when she was a teenager and just returned to the abbey after leaving her fourth apprenticeship. After spending literally weeks completely alone on the road with only her failures and hopelessness to keep her company, she utterly terrified of being rejected by the only place and people she had to return to. Of course that didn’t happen, and even though she left her fifth apprenticeship at the Abydon temple as well, she returned home that time with an actual success and for the first time with certainty that it was truly home she was returning to.

The second time was the destruction of Caed Nua. At first it was only the actual crumbling of the keep, something she had no power to stop. The actual terror came with the realization who was responsible, and even more importantly, feeling His own anguish and regret at it, something she had now idea how to handle. She wasn’t afraid of death, her own at least, but the though that it could be meaningless and cause even more suffering, that He himself did things he regretted, and deep, deep down, there was a teeny tiny spark of fear that she might have been wrong about Him.

27. How does your character normally deal with confrontation?

Depending on the situation she will either stand her ground relatively quietly, or just verbally steamroll the other party into submission. Adaryc for example just got talked into the ground. That is because Favaen felt she knew enough about the situation to correctly interpret it, though the whole watcher thing certainly surprised her. Because he is Readceran and Eothasian, she assumed that he couldn’t possibly be that bad and just needed a stern talking to to be made aware of his actions. That doesn’t always work of course, but it worked well enough in that situation. If she doesn’t feel well enough informed, like with Raedric, she will stand back a bit and let the other party explain themselves first before holding her speech. But the most important part for her is conviction. If you don’t believe what you’re saying, no one else will either.

With more physical confrontations it’s simply the rule of “you punch me, I punch you”. She won’t throw the first punch, unless absolutely necessary for the safety of others, but she also won’t just take. She’ll give you every opportunity to back out, but if you’re asking for a thrashing that’s what you’ll get. And then she’ll explain to you in detail why that was a terribly idea and you should really better yourself.

35. How does your character behave around people they like?

Favaen is very aware of her responsibilities as a leader. As a priest she is supposed to a role model, and she does her duties proudly and meticulously, but no one can be perfect all the time. So that means basically, the more she trusts you, the sillier she will behave around you, as long as the situation doesn’t demand otherwise, because she trusts you not to take everything at face value. She likes joking around and does so regularly, but the better she likes you, the dumber the jokes get. She also has no problem being the butt of a joke, as long as it’s actually funny. Additionally, Favaen is a fan of physical shows of affection. Hugs are the basics of course, but she also likes jumping people, as long they’re physically able to catch her. She’s spent quite some time being carried around by Edér and Kana for some clearly bullshit reason.

[secretsfromwholecloth]

Pillars of Eternity, day 2.

More early installment weirdness: Berath (and Wael) being referred to as “he”.

Well, let’s go see a man about a soul.

Ah, today’s first reminder that I am very, very bad at handling squishy melee characters. Mainly because my approach to melee is “just throw them at the thing and let them hack at it”, which rather assumes a tanking rather than DPS role. Which in turn assumes the tankiness to successfully fill a tanking role. Which the squishy melee DPS classes like barbarian, monk, and rogue don’t really have.

Nothing says “you are spectacularly underleveled for basically everything, also you have a vacant spot in the party, you enormous ass” like barely surviving—”people getting maimed and/or carrying multiple injuries and even indestructible Edér’s health bar getting into the flashing red” kind of barely surviving—level 3 of the Endless Paths. I won’t be banging out Kana’s quest anytime soon, that’s for damn sure.

To which end, fox mom has been acquired, and the party is now full. And no longer all-male. (5 out of 11 companions are women, but they range from “met late in Act 1″ like Sagani here to “tucked away in a DLC best avoided until the late mid-game at least.”)

Sure, Itumaak isn’t nearly the same as having a second tank—I eagerly await the arrival of Pallegina—but anything that expands the melee squad and takes some of the pressure off Anlaf is welcome right now.

OK, trying to pass by Stormwall Gorge to hit up Dyrford was an extremely bad idea. Defiance Bay it is. (And babies, you can start throwing up some banter whenever you feel like it, thanks.)

I have a decision to make, don’t I—which ending do I angle for with Edér? Thinking over Anlaf’s complicated relationship with the family that took his birth as proof of their righteousness but was awful enough that his sibling’s rebellion happened and he joined it, and then that all that was the Magranite church, which has taken the Eothasians as their enemy, and all of it basically adds up to ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ I usually default to the mayor ending/pushing him away from religion, and especially in this first conversation, where it’s the Magranites we’re snarking about, yes, it feels right to give the “yeah, fuck them and fuck their goddess; you don’t tell me what to do, fire mom” answer. Especially after putting up with Durance for several weeks.

OK, I’m starting to get stronghold quests, I need to pick up Pallegina and Grieving Mother, like, yesterday. I don’t know if I’m up to surviving Stormwall Gorge yet, but Pallegina isn’t far, let’s go look in on her.

OK, we all knew about Kana’s banter with Maneha where he points out the woman with “hips like a church bell”. But I didn’t remember his interjection in the Salty Mast about wanting to “chat up the guard with the wide hips”. Well, we know what Kana’s type is now.

Decision time again: Crucible Knights or House Doemenel? That’s going to affect whether I want to piss off the Doemenels here. Affiliation with the Crucible Knights comes in handy in the White March once, I think, and...yeah, it makes sense for this character. Crucible Knights it is, let’s piss off some Doemenels.

Wait, no, first I get them to lower their prices for Maea, then I start pissing them off.

Huh, is it just me or is Edér’s accent closer to General American here than it is in Deadfire? I feel like he has more of a drawl there.

Thinking: Is Anlaf aroace, or is he just so used to dissociating while people do what they need to do with him that becoming sexually active was/would be an extremely bad idea? I’m going to leave this underspecified for now.

And Pallegina has been acquired, which means I’m blessedly free of Durance for the time being.

More in the morning, now that I’ve learned my lesson about trying to clear out the mausoleum in Heritage Hill with a level 6 party.

[risualto]

How about Hug #16 for Tai Lon?

This one totally got away from me, whoops.  Anyways, this was inspired by something that actually happened in which Tai Lon got stuck fighting a drake that still had like 50% HP all by herself and managed to kill it, just barely, by using a skill that instantly KOs enemies below 25% health.  She had 13/270 HP at the end of that fight.

Tai Lon/Aloth + celebratory hug

Tai Lon could barely make out the roaring cheers of the crowd over the sound of her own blood pulsing in her ears.  But it was still more than she could take in that moment, the final drop that shattered the tension keeping her standing.  Like wine spilling over a too-full glass, Tai Lon felt all the adrenaline flood from her body, sending her crashing down to one knee before the massive drake corpse.  Her stiletto was still lost somewhere in its flesh, but she couldn’t find the energy to search for it.

Her friends should be fine now, she thought. The match was over, so per the rules and magic of the Crucible, they should be starting to get up.  

The wounds on her own body should be starting to close, too, but Tai Lon couldn’t feel it happening.  Her hand—the one without a weapon—was glued to her side with some mixture of her blood and the drake’s.  Absently, she noted that the pressure should probably hurt.  She was sure the drake’s tail had splintered (at least) a few ribs, but somehow, her mind was so far away that the pain couldn’t reach her.  That was probably bad.

She couldn’t bring herself to care, though, because honestly?  Fuck this. Fuck that drake.  Fuck the Crucible.  Galawain could shove it, and frankly, so could Berath.  What good was Tai Lon as the Herald if they couldn’t be bothered to help her deal with Galawain’s utterly ridiculous, life threatening rituals?

(Never mind the fact that Tai Lon had expended every single one of her abilities in that fight, including Berath’s. The point was that she was the one barely alive while every one of her companions had been ripped apart or burnt within an inch of their lives in front of her, and all she got as a reward was some dumb statues telling her, “You did good.”  Or something like that.  She wasn’t listening.)

“—cher?  Watcher, can ya hear me?”

Tai Lon breathed sharply in reply to Xoti’s voice, and her vision started to clear.  She didn’t remember when it had started to black out, but the darkness was being burnt off by an aurora of blue healing magic.  However, when she was able to focus again, Xoti’s face was not the one that greeted her.

It was Aloth, remnants of the restoration scroll still crumbling in his fingertips.  His eyes were glowing with concern, almost brighter in the moment than the spell he’d just cast, and his free hand was gently resting over Tai Lon’s on her injured side.  

Something else was clouding Aloth’s face, too, but Tai Lon didn’t have a chance to process it before she felt a sharp tug behind her.  “There we go,” Xoti said, beaming down at her as she finished closing up Tai Lon’s pack. “Glad ya keep the healin’ scrolls somewhere easy to grab, Watcher.”

Tai Lon chose not to point out that Xoti was usually on the team of people who get impatient when she organizes her bags, and instead just smiled.  “Yeah,” she said, then noticed Edér was also standing nearby, holding out a hand. She grabbed on and let Edér pull her to her feet.  “Thanks, both of you.  And you, too, Aloth—Aloth?”

Aloth was still on the ground, watching Tai Lon with that same strange expression.  But, now, Tai Lon recognized it.  It was disbelief, admiration, and humility braided together and woven through his eyes, his lips, the tilt of his brows.  A part of Tai Lon, too, was tangled up by the feeling, maybe because she had only seen Aloth make that face twice before.  The first was years ago, at Adelwan Bridge as they fled the fires in Defiance Bay, when Tai Lon had offered him friendship in the face of his worst lies to her.  The second was when they had met again on Maje Island and he had realized she survived the fall of Caed Nua.

“Watcher,” Aloth was saying, getting up without even brushing the Crucible’s dirt from his robes.  He shook his head and started again, still sounding dazed.  “Tai Lon.  You defeated a drake.  By yourself.”

Tai Lon looked around to see that the magic of the Crucible was already disintegrating the drake’s body, but indeed, the beast was massive, blood-soaked scales still gleaming in the sunlight.  It was easily ten times Tai Lon’s own size.  And it may not have registered during the fight, when all Tai Lon could think of was keeping herself and her friends on their feet. She hadn’t been all that successful.  “Not really,” she said, stepping closer to Aloth.  “I couldn’t have done it without you.  I just got lucky there at the end, but most of—”

“Not one of us—not even Edér—managed to hold our own against it,” Aloth breathed, one hand fluttering near her shoulder like she was an open flame.  “It was barely bloodied when we were all struck down, and yet,” he gestured around them, “here we are.  Because you killed a drake.”

Well.  When he put it like that.

Tai Lon felt laughter bubbling in her chest, but when she released it, she was sure it was tinged with notes of hysteria.  Her attention was caught by the remains of the beast with jaws large enough to hold at least two of her in its teeth at once.  “I did,” she breathed.  “Shit.  I did that.”

The laughter surged up again, but this time it was genuine, sparkling with relief as Tai Lon couldn’t resist throwing her arms up around Aloth’s shoulders like he could somehow ground her into reality. Her whole body was warm, even without the fever of battle.  They were all alive and relatively okay (even if Tai Lon was still bleeding), and she had actually killed a drake.

Aloth shifted in her grasp as Tai Lon pressed her forehead into the curve of his neck, breathing slowly to calm herself.  “You’re amazing,” he whispered, and finally, finally let himself hold her properly, no longer hesitating like he wasn’t sure she could be touched.  His embrace was warm and snug across her back, holding her steady even as Tai Lon still felt like she was floating.

Absently, she hoped that someone had the presence of mind to go find the weapon she’d sunk into the drake’s neck with her killing blow.  She certainly wasn’t moving any time soon.

Send me a hug! | Original post