#saintsrepose: neyvin

[stilettobitearch]

the way secret sits and lays her hands in her lap, pads of her fingertips tracing over the nails of her porcelain arm, revelling in their coolness, the way she does as she's told, she hopes is kept between herself and the paladin untwisting her braids. it wouldn't do for the others to know she was capable of obeying orders, nor would her ego survive. neyvin just... made it easier to let them take the reins. 

"well, i trust you, and if you ruin my hair, well," she flicked her left wrist, allowing the psionic blade to materialise for a moment before disappearing into the energy it formed from, a small chuckle meeting the firbolg's small teasing.

hm. that felt rather loaded. but then, anyone expressing an interest in her well-being historically put the rogue on edge. it might not be neyvin's fault, really. 

"i'm fine, today's been pretty uneventful, at least in the spectrum of what we've been facing lately." the threat of ceremorphosis lived in the back of her mind, she had unpredictable terrible bouts of violence, and there wasn't a single moment of her past she remembered. but things were fine! "what about you?" 

"sit." neyvin said, with a small smile. he takes the comb from secret and begins to undo her red braids, running the comb through her hair. "it's been quite a while since i have done this on anyone but myself." they said, with a small smile, "but i think i remember it well enough." she teases lightly.

it had been an easy day of traveling. far easier than some days recently had been. so it was nice to take the evening to relax a bit without having to lick horrible wounds. but that didn't mean they were in the clear.

"... how are you doing?" he asks casually. neyvin had a special place of concern in her heart for secret. someone who was desperately trying to fight against several things to be a good person. neyvin knew it wasn't easy.

@stilettobite -> liked for neyvin

[myrkulsapxstle]

" sit down before you fall down. " ( from Neyvin / saintsrepose )

𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃, 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃, 𝐆𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐅𝐅!

@saintsrepose - neyvin.

"Falling would be appropriate. I have done so many times already."

Ketheric's first night in camp was begun with an expectedly chill reception, yet here Neyvin was. Healing him. Patching up wounds inflicted on him by the third god he'd turned his back on.

"You have much to celebrate, True Soul. Do not waste your time tending to a corpse."

Corpse no longer, true, but surely the comparison could still be made.

[hopedflight]

Hi, welcome to the BEU (Bee Extended Universe), I've decided all of my characters both here and at @saintsrepose are interconnected.

Obviously, Fely'ene & Rhylzen are siblings.

Everyone knows Tasha, (/derogatory)

Neyvin & Fiadh have worked together back when she was with the Order of the Gauntlet. This was also likely when Ke'laun was still alive as well. The three went drinking afterward.

Rhylzen & Ezekiel are professional (read: criminal) acquaintances.

Ezekiel actively has stolen from Garcia before his family was killed.

Conversely, Garcia had 'failed' to catch Ezekiel after a theft from a patriar.

Rhylzen has taken people to Fiadh for 'No Questions Asked Healing' when he was in Waterdeep.

Fiadh has gone drinking with Garcia.

[bladef8]

@saintsrepose // starter call

"Paladin," a voice beckons to him but it has no obvious source. It is echoing but not frighteningly so. There is warmth to the voice, like an old friend greeting another during an unexpected reunion. The Shadow Caller does not know this paladin but he knows battle worn hands... Neyvin is strong enough and experienced enough to wield him and together they just might escape the Shadow Cursed lands. "If you want to live, pick up the sword at your feet. Together, we will survive."

[accultant]

[ SCREAM ]: sender spots the receiver in a terrified or considerably panicked state, and picks them up to carry them to a less terrifying place to calm down. ( from neyvin over on my sideblog @saintsrepose )

They overestimated themselves. They thought they could swallow back their fear of tight spaces and being underground in order to follow their companions into an old passage that promised to cut travel time in half. They really thought they had it, that it wouldn't be that bad. That they could be brave enough. Then the walls started to close in and, oh, hells, the air is getting thinner, isn't it ?

It felt like a perfectly acceptable reason to panic at the time. But in retrospect, they should've realized it was at least somewhat psychological since none of their other companions seemed bothered by these occurrences - only a little worried about Iago's sudden state and the wild magic surge that nearly caused the passageway to collapse. The harper with them certainly seemed like he could breathe and move around just fine, since he scooped up Iago and deftly removed them from the tunnels before another burst of untamed magic buried them all alive. Vaguely, Iago is baffled at Neyvin's calm, seeing as she is nearly twice their height, making them feel a bit silly for their worries of being trapped somewhere 'too small.' But then the walls start to close in again and silliness be damned, they are grateful for Neyvin's size and strength that so easily sweeps them out of there.

They have little desire or capacity to object, desperation and panic clouding their mind too much to find their way back out on their own. They're holding onto Neyvin like a lifeline by the time they're outside again, underneath an open sky, where they can finally gasp frantically for air take a deep, calm breath. "I'm- I apologize," Iago stammers out, loosening their grasp on her shirt since their hands are still sparking a bit and they would rather not like to add an electrocuted firbolg to their wild magic repertoire. They frantically try to gain back some dignity even as they're still shaking like a leaf and being held a good five feet off of the ground, "I didn't mean to- I thought- I only need a moment or two, just some fresh air, then I'm fine."

[harpersoath]

#harpersoath.

ind. sel. priv. baldur's gate 3 original companion.

NEYVIN SHIELDHEART. harper. firbolg. paladin.

a study in: praying for peace but marching to war; a oath sworn duty of care; undying loyalty; survivor's guilt; light in the darkness; protection as a front for self-sacrifice, as a front for self-destruction; there's good in this world and its worth fighting for.

links.

CARRD. | CALLS. | MEMES. | HEADCANONS. | STUDY. | VISUALS.

as recorded by bee since may 2024. blog moved / revamped sept of 2024. mobile rules under the cut.

blogroll. @hopedflight | @saintsrepose

GOLDEN RULE. obligatory "don't be a dick" rule. don't follow if you are a shitty person.

WRITING PARTNERS. i will not follow or write with anyone under 18. as someone now in my mid-20s where there may be nsfw on this blog i do not feel comfortable having minors in my space.

ACTIVITY. activity is sporadic and irregular, at the whim of my energy level and adhd. I work 40hrs a week and take care of my life, pets, and myself all alone. roleplay is a low priority.

INTERACTIONS. plotting and asks are usually the easiest way to interact. i occasionally post starter calls but they can take a while to get done. please feel free to continue on any asks into threads. i also will sometimes do dash commentary.

WRITING & FORMATTING. i use fairly minimal formatting, and even then it's wildly inconsistent. the key features of my formatting are all lowecase, "bold text for quotes / speaking" and small text. i use beta editor, and also have new xkit to cut posts. if you need different formatting requirements for any reason, please just beep me & i will adapt, gladly! i tend to write from a few sentences to muliple paragraphs, depending on my partner & the thread.

PLOTTING. i love established dynamics! please, please, please feel free to reach out for any kinds of dynamics.

SHIPPING. i am very down for shipping! they are a romancable companion. she does identify as 'gay' / 'achillean'. if you aren't sure if you character would fall under that umbrella for shipping, if they would be comfortable being refered to as a man, then they probably do - but you are always welcome to ask me if you aren't sure! neyvin is a polyamorous but all ships are assumed to be in separate verses unless otherwise noted. in their modern verse, they are monogamously married.

FIRBOLGS & LORE. while firbolgs are not in the bg3 game itself canonically, neyvin is a carry over from an actual dnd campaign with some adjustments made, so i decided to keep him as a firbolg! 

firbolgs in faerun are giant-kin, and as such, neyvin is quite large. while he is *short* for a firbolg (females averare 9'10" on the low end), he towers over most other humanoids. firbolgs are unsusual to find outside of their settlements, which are usually reclusive. it is up to you if you think that your character would know what a firbolg is.

TRIGGERING CONTENT. there will be potentially triggering themes on this blog, including death, grief, and trauma. if i miss tagging things in a thread, please do not hesitate to ask for it! i ask that in return any pictures of real-life, cgi or realisitc spiders be tagged as they are an issue for me. mentions are fine, as are cartoony / clearly fake ones.

NSFW CONTENT. any nsfw or suggestive posts will be tagged cw usft. explicit nsfw will be rare, and under a read more if it appears.

ASK ME ANYTHING. this blog is permenantly a work in progress as neyvin grows and develops. not all information may be available, if you don't see the information you need, or have any questions, please let me know.

[myrkulsapxstle]

Ketheric said nothing for a long moment as Neyvin finished patching his wounds -- watching the bleeding gashes that would have once healed themselves stitch and suture together under the Firbolg's touch. No more immortality for him, it reminded him -- undeath haunted him no longer.

No more taking halberds to the neck and surviving. No more calls for second tries.

Both a blessing and a curse.

"Do you have a name, then?" Ketheric finally spoke, "If we're take on the army I've created together, it would be preferable to call you something."

He can't imagine simply pointing and going You would garner him any favor with the heroes he'd formed a tense alliance with.

[ religion check 1d20+1 = 4 ]

Ketheric, while intimately familiar with many of the Faerûnian gods, felt somewhat lacking in the study of outside pantheons as Neyvin sat down next to him and mentioned the name of a god he'd not yet heard. He listened with as much intent as his woozy brain could muster, trying to breathe deeply, "She is not of the Faerûnian gods, is she? I've not heard the name."

"I deserve kindness? Mercy?" He asked, disbelieving and almost joking, "I have slaughtered most of a town that once adored me. I became an unrecognizable monster to my daughter and a jailer unto her lover in the depths of my grief. The debt I owe is too great. It cannot be undone so easily."

A defeated laugh that devolved into a wet cough - his voice rough as he composed himself to speak again, "That the Dame has not caved my skull in with her boot is mercy enough for me."

"But perhaps I am blind," The General sighed, "Perhaps the silver lining is lost on me."

( He tended to look away from silver, after all. )

in truth, neyin did not feel much like celebrating. instead, he felt exhaustion in his bones. he didn't have much left in him, not after that fight with myrkul, but he had given ketheric the last of his lay on hands, leaving the paladin fully tapped of his divine magic for the day.

by all accounts, neyvin should hate the man who he is currently binding the injury of. and perhaps he did. but after shadowheart, and after those letters... after hearing the broken tiredness in his voice at the top of that tower... it was harder to feel the same anger towards the man. much harder.

"i'm not a true soul." neyvin said, "just someone who has some interest in seeing the cult end." just watching the shadow curse fall had been almost enough. but he would stand by the sides of those here until they rid the world of this cult.

the shield that neyvin favored is propped nearby, and he glances at it, the garland of flowers just as clear as ever, despite the many beatings the shield had taken. his eyes flicker over to jaheria, for just a moment, before back towards kethetic. he sits in the space next to him, putting him to a more equal level with the oathbreaker.

there is a long pause as he formulates a response. "Iallanis is a goddess of mercy, of kindness. you need healing, and i can do that." he said by way of explanation. "your past actions do not remove the fact that you deserve mercy and kindness. and, if i claimed such a thing, i would be rejecting both her domain and my oath's tenants." he does not elaborate on those tenants. the firbolg isn't sure they can find it in them to say out loud yet what they've pledged in the wake of moonrise and myrkul's defeat. not when the literal wounds are still raw and healing.

continued from here — with @myrkulsapxstle

[accultant]

؟ (saintsrepose / for neyvin@)

Their kindness seems to know no bounds. How does someone survive live like that? How does it feel to be so endlessly Good? Is he tired? Maybe it's easy for other people. Maybe it comes naturally.

[fleshcarverfugitive]

Neyvin:

neyvin wants to disagree. he wants to be angry. he wants to be filled with that righteous justice you should be as a paladin. kethetic thorm had been the reason the love of her life was dead. he had imprisoned dame aylin for years -- slain multitudes of harpers and others... and yet. after all, wasn't that the same kind of grief and anger that led ketheric down his path? that anger and pain of loss, that despair of having nothing else and feeling abandoned and alone. ketheric had been an incredibly devout selunite. he lost those he loved and felt abandoned by his goddess. he was shoved away from her by grief and into the arms of shar. then, after all his death and destruction and curse was laid, he wasn't even allowed rest. he was called back to serve another god. we are copper pieces in their belts. tokens to be traded for scraps. what would they have been if not for the other harpers who held them back from that ledge? what could he have become if not for the way jaheria pulled him back and focused him? wasn't he so quick to dismiss the ability to change, to see...something else in those who were no better than she was? had he been so blinded by what he saw as duty in his oath he failed to hold onto the compassion? he looks back at shadowheart, still cradling the wound on her hand. they'd dismissed her, too. purely for what he saw as her failings in her choice of goddess. yet...she was scared, tricked, hurt. shadowheart had served shar, but even before her choice in the shadowfell to disobey he had begun to see cracks in that. they think back to what they had learned of all of their friends, and even amalica. "...i hope you are right." she said, looking down into the colony below them. "though i doubt myrkul will be letting him go easily."

"No, certainly not," Amalica agreed with Neyvin's last sentiment, worry drawing her lips into a thin line, "He never seems to pick the gods that can let go with grace, does he?"

A paraphrased remark of Astarion's after their escape from Shar's grasp in the Shadowfell rang in her mind: For the Lady of Loss, she seems to hate losing.

Amalica knew those kinds of gods well - Lolth could easily be counted among them, with her propensity towards the Drow's continued entanglement in her web, and her derision towards her daughter's quest for their freedom. The very quest she herself now embarked upon -- Ketheric's raging against uncaring deities seeming very familiar to the Drow.

And yet, when offered the open hand, he shied away. Called his involvement a sunk cost. He'd passed the point of return, he reasoned.

A hum from her sword, gripped tightly in her right hand, urged her onwards. If Eilistraee saw hope for the General yet, this was surely the warning that time was running short.

And a reminder that Melodia's letter was burning a hole in her pocket.

"We should move," She shook herself out of her spiraling musings about deities and her own wicked memories, grateful for Phalar's intrusion, "The longer we wait, I fear, the more words of confirmation Myrkul can whisper to Ketheric."

Though the thought of stepping any closer to the colony made the Drow's stomach churn, she took a few long strides before leaping downwards into the prison of flesh--

Down, down, down...