#there's so much about how Gale speaks about what happened that very clearly shows his research was heavily done after the fact

[a-heart-of-kyber]

Those moments when you sit there and consider the true implications of Mystra, omniscient, letting Gale get the orb and then encouraging him to khs near the crown.

It's giving "Outside of doing it myself; only Karcite Weave can destroy Karcite Weave." And, knowing all this was coming, she 'allowed' Gale to become an initially unwitting s**cide b**mer.

[moonselune]

Hi! Could I request Astarion, Gale, and Wyll with a reader who is typically well spoken until someone flirts with them? Not an overly dramatic reaction, but more like they start stuttering and blushing. I would like this to have some NSFW in it, but you absolutely do not have to. Thank you! And have a wonderful day!

NSFW | MDNI | I F!reader

This was an absolutely fantastic request thank you very much for blessing me with it also this is the first time I have written smut for the boys, I did assume f!reader but will in future try and make it more gn xx

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Gale:

The sun was beginning to set, casting a warm golden glow over the camp as you and Gale sat together by the fire. You enjoyed these moments of peace with him, the world falling away as you talked about everything and nothing. Your words flowed effortlessly, a natural charm evident in your every sentence.

That is, until a charming stranger wandered into your camp. The traveler was on their way to Baldur’s Gate and had stopped to ask for directions. Their conversation quickly turned friendly, and before you knew it, they were openly flirting with you.

“You have a certain… sparkle in your eyes,” the stranger said, leaning in a little too close. “Are you a sorcerer, or are you simply magical by nature?”

You felt your cheeks flush, your usual eloquence escaping you. “I, um, well… thank you. I… I’m not really—”

Gale, sitting beside you, watched with an amused glint in his eyes.

“Ah, I see,” he interjected smoothly, putting a comforting, yet possessive hand on your shoulder. “It seems my partner is a bit tongue-tied at the moment. Quite the rare sight, I assure you.”

The stranger chuckled, clearly enjoying your flustered state. “Well, I should be on my way,” they said, giving you a playful wink. “But do let me know if you ever need help with finding your words.”

"I wouldn't worry, kind saer, trust she has a most eloquent partner," Gale jabbed, dismissing the traveller with a wave of his hand. As the stranger departed, Gale turned to you, his amusement evident. “Tongue-tied, my dear? Now, that’s something I never thought I’d see.”

You sighed, still feeling the warmth in your cheeks. “I don’t know what happened. I just… couldn’t think of anything to say.”

Gale’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “It was quite adorable, really. But perhaps I should help you practice, so you’re never at a loss for words again.”

You raised an eyebrow, trying to regain some semblance of composure. “And how exactly do you propose to do that?”

Gale leaned in, his voice dropping to a seductive whisper. “By teaching you how to use your tongue properly, of course.”

Before you could respond, Gale’s lips were on yours, a gentle yet passionate kiss that left you breathless. He pulled back just enough to murmur, “Follow me.”

You let him lead you to the privacy of your tent, your heart racing with anticipation. Once inside, Gale’s demeanor shifted from teasing to serious, his eyes dark with desire.

“Let me show you,” he said, his hands deftly working to remove your clothes. His breath hot on your neck, his lips mere inches away from your skin. “How a well-practiced tongue can render one speechless.”

You shivered at his words, the anticipation building as he guided you to lie down. His kisses trailed down your body, each one sending sparks of pleasure through you. You let yourself become lost under his touch and when his lips finally reached your most sensitive spot, you gasped, your hands tangling in his hair.

The grip you held on him only encouraged his lesson further. Gale’s tongue moved with expert precision, teasing and tasting in ways that made you moan uncontrollably. “Gale… oh, gods… please…”

He looked up at you, your slick coating his lips, his eyes filled with a mix of affection and hunger. “Please what, my love? Use your words, remember what this lesson is about.”

You whimpered, trying to find the strength to speak. “Please… don’t stop. It feels so good…”

He smiled against your skin, his tongue working even more skillfully, humming into your core. “That’s better. But I think you can do even better than that.”

Your body arched towards him, the pleasure becoming almost unbearable, you tugged and pulled at his hair. “Gale, please… I need... I need to come, please,”

Gale’s eyes darkened with desire at your words and his actions became more forceful, as he groaned into the wet mess of your core, “As you wish, my most eloquent love.”

The world outside your tent disappeared, leaving only the two of you. Gale’s actions became slow and deliberate, drawing out the pleasure until you were on the edge of bliss. His tongue lacsadaisically entered your core, his nose nudging your clit, his beard soaked in your fluids. You felt your legs begin to tremble and Gale held onto them with a firm carress.

When you finally came, it was with a cry of his name, your body trembling with the force of your release. Gale lapped up every bit of it and rode you through your high. As you came down, Gale crawled up your body, settling between your legs, chin resting on your chest.

“Well, my love, it seems you’ve found your words again.” Gale chuckled softly.

You smiled, still breathless. “Yes, but only because of you.”

He pressed a gentle kiss to your chest. “And I will always be here to help you find them, most dutifully.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Astarion:

The evening air was cool and refreshing as you and Astarion strolled through the bustling market. Your hand intertwined with his, and the two of you enjoyed the serenity of being together. Despite the crowds, there was a certain peace in the chaos, a comfort in the presence of each other.

Your conversation flowed smoothly, filled with laughter and gentle teasing. You prided yourself on your eloquence, your ability to converse and charm effortlessly. That is, until the vendor—a strikingly handsome elf—began to flirt with you.

"You have an eye for beauty," the elf said, his gaze lingering on you a moment too long. "Perhaps I could help you find something as lovely as yourself?"

You felt your cheeks warm, your usual poise faltering. "I… um, well, I—"

Astarion’s grip on your hand tightened slightly, a smirk playing on his lips as he watched you struggle. "Oh, my love," he drawled, his voice dripping with amusement, "you seem to be at a loss for words."

The vendor raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by your sudden bashfulness. Astarion took a step closer to you, his presence a reassuring warmth against your side. "It's adorable, really," he continued, his tone teasing. "You’re usually so well-spoken."

The elf chuckled, clearly enjoying the scene. "I'm flattered," he said, his eyes still locked on you. "Perhaps we could continue this conversation later?"

Astarion's smirk widened, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "I think not," he said smoothly, pulling you closer. "My dear here has other plans."

As you walked away, Astarion’s amusement was palpable. "You do know how to put on a show," he said, his voice low and suggestive.

You sighed, trying to regain your composure. "It’s just… I don’t know why I got so flustered."

Astarion stopped and turned to you, his eyes dark with a predatory gleam. "Oh, I know exactly why," he murmured, leaning in to whisper in your ear. "You’re not used to being the one flustered. Usually, you’re the one making others blush."

His hand slipped around your waist, pulling you close as you walked into a secluded part of the alley.

"But I think I rather like seeing you like this," he purred, his lips brushing against your neck. "So vulnerable, so easy to tease."

You felt a shiver run down your spine as his hand trailed lower, slipping beneath the fabric of your clothes. "Astarion," you breathed, your voice shaky.

"Shh," he hushed you, his fingers expertly finding their way past your underwear and directly to your most sensitive spot. "Let's see how much I can make you squirm."

His touch was light at first, teasing and tantalizing. You bit your lip, trying to suppress a moan as he increased the pressure, his fingers moving with skilled precision. "Astarion, please," you gasped, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Please, what?" he asked, his tone mockingly innocent. "You’ll have to be more specific, darling."

You whimpered, your body arching into his touch. You were glad that the sun was setting and the market was beginning to close, you ddint need an audience to Astarion making a show of you. "Please, I need you."

He chuckled darkly, his fingers never stopping their tormenting rhythm. "Need me? How delightfully vague. Tell me exactly what you want."

Your mind was a haze of pleasure and desperation.."I want you inside me," you managed to gasp out. "Please, Astarion."

Astarion’s eyes flashed with triumph, his smirk widening. "As you wish," he said, his voice a low growl. With a swift, practiced motion, he positioned himself, his hard length pressing against your entrance. You were slick from his teasing fingers and it seems your predicament had had a similar effect on him, as his tip leaked with precum. It wouldn't be the first time you guys did it in an alley, and it most definitely would not be the last.

"Now, now I want to hear every sinful moan and word from you," he whispered, his voice thick with desire. "Just don't be too loud unless you want that dear merchant to come join us."

As he thrust into you, all coherent thought fled your mind. The world narrowed down to the feel of him inside you, the pleasure building with each movement. You clung to him, your nails digging into his back as he drove you both towards release.

In that moment, all your earlier embarrassment was forgotten, replaced by the overwhelming sensation of being completely and utterly consumed by Astarion. And as you choked out his name, you knew there was no place you’d rather be.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Wyll:

The evening was peaceful as you and Wyll sat together in the tavern, enjoying a quiet moment away from the chaos of adventuring. The flickering candlelight cast a warm glow on Wyll’s handsome features, and his deep, melodic voice filled the space between you as he recounted a tale from his past. You listened, entranced, your usual confidence shining through as you engaged in the conversation.

Then, a stranger approached your table. A charismatic bard with a roguish smile, they leaned in and addressed you. “Forgive my interruption, but I couldn’t help but notice your captivating presence from across the room. Would you honor me with your name?”

You felt a sudden rush of heat to your cheeks, your usual eloquence faltering. “I, um, well… thank you. My name is… uh…”

Wyll’s eyes sparkled with amusement as he watched you struggle. He leaned in, his hand gently squeezing yours under the table.

“This is my partner,” he said smoothly, his tone protective yet playful. “And I believe you’ve rendered them quite speechless.”

The bard chuckled, clearly entertained by your flustered state. “Speechless, indeed. A rare and beautiful sight.”

As the bard moved on, Wyll turned to you, his expression soft and affectionate. “I must say, I’ve never seen you quite so… tongue-tied before. It’s absolutely adorable.”

You sighed, still blushing furiously. “I don’t know what happened. I just couldn’t think of anything to say.”

Wyll’s grin widened, a teasing glint in his eyes. “I rather enjoyed it, to be honest. Seeing you so flustered… it makes me want to keep you all to myself.”

He stood, offering you his hand. “Come with me, love. Let’s find somewhere more private.”

You took his hand, following him to your shared room upstairs. As soon as the door closed behind you, Wyll’s demeanor shifted from playful to intensely passionate. He pulled you close, his hands caressing your face as he gazed into your eyes.

“You have no idea how much I adore you,” he murmured, his voice low and husky. “Every time you blush, every time you stutter… it drives me wild.”

You shivered at his words, feeling the heat of his desire. “Wyll…”

He silenced you with a kiss, his lips gentle yet demanding. His hands roamed over your body, worshipping every inch of you with reverent touches. “Let me show you,” he whispered against your skin, “just how much I love you.”

Wyll’s kisses trailed down your neck, each one leaving a burning trail of desire. He undressed you slowly, savoring the sight of your bare skin as if it were the most precious treasure.

“You are perfect,” he said, his voice filled with awe. “Every inch of you.”

You moaned softly as his lips found the sensitive parts of your body, his touch sending waves of pleasure through your body. “Wyll… please…”

He looked up at you, his eyes dark with lust and love. “Please what, my love? Tell me what you need. Use your most beautiful words.”

You blushed again, your earlier shyness returning. “I need you, Wyll... I need you to..”

"Love you? Adore you? Fuck you?" Wyll’s smile was tender and bashful as he positioned himself over you. “As you wish, my beloved.”

He entered you slowly, the sensation overwhelming. Wyll moved with a practiced grace, his every thrust drawing out your pleasure until you were both lost in the intensity of your love. His hands and lips continued to worship your body, nipping and carressing, making you feel cherished and adored with every touch.

When you both reached the peak of your pleasure, it was with cries of each other’s names, your bodies trembling in unison. Afterwards, Wyll held you close, his hands still gently caressing your skin.

“You are everything to me,” he whispered, his voice filled with emotion. “And I will always love you, just as you are.”

You snuggled into his embrace, feeling the warmth of his love surrounding you. “And I love you, Wyll. More than words can say.”

He pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, his arms tightening around you. “Then let’s stay like this, my love. Just you and me, forever.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Hope you guys enjoyed it !! - Seluney xox

[reallyhatethiswebsite]

for @artilaz

afab gn tav, voice kink, smug insufferable raphael

-

The devil just kept appearing when he wasn’t wanted. It didn't seem to matter how Tav or their companions always told him to buzz off, that they weren't interested in his infernal offers. Raphael was a persistence predator, and every time he showed his handsome mug, he was patient and cordial, as if each stale interaction hadn't happened. As if he was so confident they would return to him, they would need him, that their disregard for his generous attention simply slid away like water off a duck's back. He was like a hyena waiting for his cornered prey to fall into his mouth – toying with his food, as Gale had said – and it was infuriating. So when Tav heard that now familiar little sound of hellish teleportation, when the stink of fire and sulphur flooded their nose for a moment, they and their companions shared a grumble. Not this again…

“Haven't you got anything better to do than bother us?” Tav said; they wanted to get the first word in for a change.

Something was…different about Raphael this time. Though he was always polite to a fault, Tav thought that maybe they could sense an undercurrent of irritation or frustration developing from their constant rejection, that even a powerful everlasting creature like him had his limits – wishful thinking, probably. Yet as he stood there, emerging from his portal of hellfire and brimstone, there was a certain energy to him, something in the tilt of his smile, the gleam in his eyes…some kind of dark delight he was thrilled to share. Tav felt on edge, and they weren't the only one. They heard their friends shifting uneasily behind them, moving to grip weapons just in case.

“Now, now,” Raphael crooned, waving his hands in a passive motion. Always so expressive. “There's no need for such a vitriolic response. I'm not here to try and convince you of the error of your ways. Quite the opposite, in fact. At least, for one of you in particular…” His deep, soulful brown eyes stared at Tav, through Tav. I know something interesting about you, they said. Tav's stomach dropped.

“The fuck are you talking about?” Snapped Karlach. Raphael's eyebrow twitched, but he barely glanced at her.

“He's not talking about anything,” said Tav. “He's just being cryptic as usual.” Raphael's twitching eyebrow raised high on his forehead.

“Really?” He drawled with an obnoxious little tilt of his head. Dragged the word out, growly and amused. Deliberate enunciation. Sweat began to bead at Tav's temples, cold fingers of suspicion crawling up their spine. “Talking…such a simple concept, and yet, words…their sounds…can hold so much power.”

The baby hairs on the back of Tav's neck and arms rose. “You know,” they whispered.

“Yessss,” Raphael purred. A viciously smug smirk twisted his features, showing a glimpse of the scheming fiend he truly was. How much he was enjoying their horror and discomfort. “Sweet little mouse…I know.”

“What does he know?” Asked Karlach. “Tav, what's going on?”

“Please, not in front of them,” begged Tav when Raphael's smirk widened.

“As you wish.”

He clicked his fingers and, just like when he first accosted them, Tav found themselves in his House of Hope, at the mercy of its master. Raphael stood, backlit by the roaring fireplace, creating elongated shadows from his human guise. He observed them for a moment in silence, clearly delighted.

“Imagine my surprise,” he said after consideration, speaking in swaying dulcet cadence. “When I learned that the stalwart adventurer rebuffing me at every turn, denying my every attempt at co-operation and treating me as though I were naught but a bothersome snake oil salesman…is the very same adventurer bringing themselves to a breathless, mewling climax each night in secret, beneath their hot and sweaty covers, aroused by thoughts of…ah, how did you phrase it in your throes of ecstasy? My “rich and rumbling baritone”? Creative, I'll give you that.”

“How did you find out?” Demanded Tav despite their mortification.

“I have my ways. Don't fear, I've hardly the spare time on my hands to watch you every night, but let's just say that, for a devil of my calibre…the magnitude of a mortal's lust for me can be something of a beacon through the din of your chaotic realm.”

“Well, then,” Tav muttered miserably. “What's your plan? Are you going to blackmail me into signing your bloody contract?”

“Tempting,” Raphael hummed. He stroked his chin. The way he was looking at Tav made them want to fidget. They resisted the urge. They'd given this devil enough already. “Hmm…no, I think…tonight, little mouse. When your friends are sleeping, when you've tucked yourself so sweetly in bed, when you feel the first embers of desire stirring and your greedy little hands begin to wander…that's when I'll be there.”

“What? What does that mean?!”

Tav received no answer.

“See you soon,” the devil cooed, and Tav was back with their alarmed companions, scrambling for an explanation. Eventually they managed to defuse the situation after they swore they hadn't signed anything and wouldn't sign anything, but in truth they weren't so sure anymore.

They tucked themselves away earlier than normal, when the sun began to sink beyond the horizon. In their thin sleeping clothes, beneath their scratchy blanket. Their small tent, far away enough for some privacy. They lay in their bedroll, listening to their friends talking and milling around without really hearing what they were saying. They were waiting for that sound, that smell. For the indication that the devil was making good on his promise, for whatever insidious purpose he had in mind. To say that Tav was nervous, fraught with anticipation, would be an understatement.

As time passed, as noises from the camp dwindled, Tav's nerves grew. Their eyes stung from staring at the canvas ceiling of their tent. They shifted, stretched their legs, certain that no one but they were awake. Yet the devil didn't appear.

Where are you, Raphael? They thought, too wired to stubbornly fall asleep and snub the fiend again. You said tonight…

He also said other things. Things in the dangerously smooth and terribly attractive voice that had got Tav in this situation in the first place. When your greedy little hands begin to wander… Tav knew, conceivably, what that meant. What Raphael wanted them to do. The question was…were they going to do it?

Little mouse…

He'd never called them that before. The way the syllables melted off his devilish tongue, that deep crooning purr and the implications of the pet name…Tav felt the warmth of arousal tingle and tighten in their belly. They squeezed their thighs together, feeling a brief shock of pleasure. Their body had grown used to nightly masturbation. Looked forward to it, even. Their hand habitually crept under the waistband of their trousers, fingertips brushing through soft curls to touch their sex. To stroke their fattening clit with their index finger, eyes half lidded. Little mouse, little mouse, little mouse…

“My, my…the taste of your unfurling desperation is almost divine…”

Inhaling sharply, Tav yanked their hand away. The devil was a looming shape in their tent, watching them. Tav hadn't heard him arrive.

“What do you want, Raphael?” They hissed.

“A show, of course,” the devil answered bluntly. “You didn't think I'd forgotten your appalling behaviour, did you?”

“You can't be serious…”

“Oh, but I am. After all, my time is precious, and you've wasted enough of it as is.”

“That's your excuse to act like a pervert?”

Raphael threw his head back and laughed. “You poor, naive thing. Perverted? Hardly. But if that's what you want, perhaps I'll wake your friends and have them watch their mighty, fearless leader tremble and sigh and fall apart to nothing but the sound of my voice…”

“You're despicable,” sneered Tav.

“Don't pretend you don't enjoy it,” the devil quipped, tilting his head. “I can smell your excitement…little mouse.” Tav clenched their jaw, trying to fight the shudder that rippled through their body. Raphael had growled those last two words, a spark of fiery orange in his eyes. Flexing his power over Tav. Basking in it. He inhaled deeply, rolling his shoulders “Now…I tire of this banal chatter, much as it excites you, droll as you can be. But fret not. We have far more interesting things to talk about…such as your dripping quim, and how you're going to touch it for me.”

Positioned like a leering gargoyle, Raphael began his instructions; rasping a lewd sermon, his scripture filthy, obscene cruel promises and commands.

“Take off your trousers and part your thighs, pet. Let me see your wanton caresses.”

Tav obeyed. How could they not? Wriggled free of their trousers and spread their knees to let Raphael see their damp curls, flush slick folds and swollen clit peeking from their hood. Hot, sticky flesh they stroked and rubbed to Raphael's throaty, self-satisfied croons.

“Look how wet you are. So desperate. All for the sound of my voice… of course, I can't fault you for your taste, but I wonder…each time you shooed me away, denied even my attempts at conversation…was it because you feared the thrill? Tried to deny it? Or because you longed to hide, to touch yourself to completion faster? Mmm…” The devil sounded like he was getting off, too. Tav bit back a gasp, thinking of him squeezing his thick erection through his clothes. Was it leaking? Did his balls ache, wanting to empty? It didn't matter that Tav knew his arousal wasn't for them, but for the swelling of his ego. They were thrilled all the same. They groaned, pelvic muscles clenching. Fresh slick spilled over their fingers. They dipped a fingertip into their entrance, swirled their clit and pinched it – until their hand was magically forced to stop. Raphael inhaled deeply, releasing a rich chuckle. “Oh, pet…I hope you don't think you're going to be finished already. No, no…you're going to tell me about every little fantasy that's passed through your simple mortal mind, every orgasm you've experienced thanks to me…every dirty thing you've wished I would say…and if I'm satisfied, I might consider letting you rut your pleasure to its peak.”

[weaveandwood]

The Bard and The Blade Chapter 2: A Small Continent

Wyll/Named Tav | Slow Burn | Read on AO3 | Entire Work

Summary:

Rosalind has a poor showing in battle and the mission is a complete failure. Will Wyll change his mind about accompanying the party now?

“I’m sorry,” she blurted out before taking a large gulp of her wine, which he instantly topped up.  “For what?” He laughed. “For having a bad day? It happens to everyone. I have had a number of days end just like this, returning to camp with my metaphorical tail tucked between my legs, my only solace at the bottom of a glass of wine. Now…I can honestly say I haven’t died in the middle of a fight,” he smiled as he teased her, hoping it would help lift her spirits. He wasn’t ready to admit to her that the sight of her lying lifeless on the ground sent a cold dread through him, even though they had only known each other a little more than a day at that point.

AN: This chapter was born out of the fact that I am playing on Balanced mode (and am Not Good at the game, even though I enjoy it immensely) and a glitch in my Investigate Kagha quest. I'm hoping to update this fic every 2 weeks, alternating with Weave & Woods. Also big thank you to @druizard for the banner!

Dying the second day of their adventure wasn’t part of Rosalind’s plan, but as she woke up gasping for air with her three party companions standing around her, it was clear that was exactly what happened. She groaned as she sat up, her now pounding head in her hands as her elbows were balanced on her knees. 

“What happened?” She asked the ground, not wanting to make eye contact with Gale, Astarion, or especially Wyll out of sheer embarrassment.

“Wood Woads,” said Gale. “Nasty buggers, they got us all pretty good.”

“Speak for yourself, wizard. I am perfectly fine, thank you very much,” said Astarion, a hint of amusement in his voice. Rosalind glanced up. Gale and Wyll looked way more beat up than Astarion. She assumed he used his sneaking abilities to get around the majority of the fight. She had been friends with plenty of rogues growing up in the Lower City, she knew how they operated. 

“As I was about to say,” Gale said as he leveled a look at Astarion who was no longer paying attention, having moved on to look around the small island for chests that may have loot in them. “Luckily, we had taken down most of the mud mephits and the other Wood Woad before you went down. Wyll here got the final blast in right after you…well right after you died.” 

She looked at Wyll, who was staring off into the distance, not making eye contact with her. While she had to admit he looked extremely handsome as the sun shone on his face, this had clearly not been a good first impression on her part. He was probably rethinking their deal right at this moment and was plotting how to leave their camp and capture Karlach on his own, leaving her in the dust. She thought about resurrecting the Wood Woad to take her out again or crawling into a large tree trunk and never coming out. Maybe she could get Gale to cast an invisibility spell on her so she could slink off for good. All three sounded like good and valid options at this point. 

“Weren’t we supposed to find some sort of clue here about Kagha?” Astarion yelled from behind the large tree trunk. The whole reason they came to this area was to see what shady deal Kagha was getting into based on the letter they found in her quarters and hopefully try to talk her out of performing the ritual that would seal the Emerald Grove and set the tiefling refugees out on a road far too dangerous for anyone who wasn’t trained to fight. “There’s nothing here!”

Rosalind took Gale’s now outstretched hand and he smiled at her as he helped her up from the ground. What a good, kind man. She was glad she pulled him out of that rock. She walked stiffly to Astarion, groaning and rubbing her back as she did. “What do you mean, there’s nothing here? There has to be!” She was desperate for something to go right today. 

“Darling, I’ve looked in every chest, under each rock, and in every nook in this tree. There’s nothing. Either someone else got to it first, or we were duped and there never was anything here.”

She sighed. This was not her day at all. “Alright, let’s head back, I guess.”

As they walked the path through the swamp back to the grove, she found herself falling in step with Gale while Wyll and Astarion led the way. Gale was easy to talk to - partially because he loved to talk, and partially because wizards had always been so interesting to her. The way they practiced magic was so studied, so precise. Sometimes watching a wizard cast felt cold, calculated, formulaic - less about artistry, more about precision. Gale was on a different level - the way he moved his hands was faster than any wizard she had ever seen, and the spells he chose had a certain flair to them, either in the type of spell he chose or when he chose to cast them, which resulted in the most dramatic effect. An artist can always spot another artist, and Rosalind felt a kindred spirit in Gale. 

“You know,” he said softly as he slowed down, putting more distance between the two groups, “I think Wyll was angrier when you went down than he was during the goblin fight yesterday. An instant after you fell, the Wood Woad who caused your demise was nothing but ash. He was also the one to revive you. Astarion and I didn’t even have time to attempt to dig our scrolls of revivify out of our packs before he was already chanting the verbal components at your side.” He smiled, a knowing tone in his voice. “Interesting, don’t you think?”

Rosalind stopped in her tracks, her mind racing. Wyll revived her? Instantly, she was giddy as she pictured him pushing everyone away to rescue the downed, fair maiden. She giggled internally at the thought and caught herself starting to blush. On the other, more practical hand, it made complete sense. He’s a hero - of course he’d rush to her rescue out of a sense of duty. Part of the job. Just another day. She knew that. And the anger Gale described? Well, that was definitely because she was a failure and put them all in danger. Any thoughts she had of him potentially fancying her disappeared as quickly as they came, replaced by deep embarrassment again at being unable to hold her own on the battlefield that day. Living in a large tree trunk for the rest of her days now seemed like the most appealing option again. 

Maybe a family of raccoons would take her and her tadpole in. 

******

The mood at camp that evening was subdued. Wyll noticed everyone seemed to take their cues from Rosalind, effectively the party leader at this point, and Rosalind was not in the best of moods. She sat away from the rest of the group, using her fork to stab at the remnants of whatever vegetables remained in her bowl of stew Gale had prepared and muttering to herself.

He recognized that mood.

He grabbed two cups and a bottle of wine and walked over, sitting next to her on the ground. He saw her freeze for a second before looking up at him. She had the biggest blue eyes with flecks of gold. He hadn’t taken the time to appreciate them fully the other day, but he was sure he’d notice their beauty all the time now. He filled one cup and handed it to her before filling his own. 

“I’m sorry,” she blurted out before taking a large gulp of her wine, which he instantly topped up. 

“For what?” He laughed. “For having a bad day? It happens to everyone. I have had a number of days end just like this, returning to camp with my metaphorical tail tucked between my legs, my only solace at the bottom of a glass of wine. Now…I can honestly say I haven’t died in the middle of a fight,” he smiled as he teased her, hoping it would help lift her spirits. He wasn’t ready to admit to her that the sight of her lying lifeless on the ground sent a cold dread through him, even though they had only known each other a little more than a day at that point. 

She groaned, burying her face in her hands. “Don’t remind me. I have a scroll I can give you to replace the one you wasted on me.”

He placed a hand on her arm, the contact making her look at him. “It wasn’t a waste, Rosalind. It would never be a waste to revive a valued member of a party.” 

She sighed. “I’m not sure exactly how valued I am. I am sure everyone here thinks I’m awful and would leave me on the side of the road in a heartbeat. Well, maybe not Gale. I’m just…new to this. Fighting, traveling, roughing it. All of it. I’ve only been outside of Baldur’s Gate just a few times, and one of those times led to me being kidnapped by mindflayers. Once this is over I don’t think I’ll be venturing outside the city again for a good long while,” she said and laughed nervously, finishing her wine. 

Wyll took a drink, observing the rest of the party. Lae’zel kept to herself mostly, sharpening her blades each night. He had heard her admonish Rosalind for dying, ordering her to train with her during any free time from now on. Gale, Astarion, and Shadowheart sat together, laughing quietly at something. Gale looked over at them a couple of times as Wyll watched. He thought he saw a smile, a nod directed at Rosalind. Wonder what that is about? He turned to look at her and caught her staring at him, her chin resting on her hands. She quickly tried to look away, but he noticed the blush rising up her neck. He smiled to himself. 

“Refill?” he asked, holding up the bottle of wine, now half gone. 

“Please,” she replied, holding out her cup. 

“So you’re from Baldur’s Gate?” He asked, wanting to confirm that his suspicions on her identity were correct. 

“Oh! I guess we didn’t really get a chance to talk much. Eventful day yesterday, what with the kidnapping, the crash, and the battle with the goblins. I think I fell asleep 10 minutes after setting up my tent. Anyway…” She cleared her throat. “Yes, I’m from Baldur’s Gate, born and raised, in a manner of speaking. You’ve already figured out that I’m a bard. Hmmm, what else? I mainly perform in coffee shops and taverns in the Lower City, sometimes the Upper City - but those are few and far between. I’ve been asked to perform at private events and bigger venues but I turn them down every time. One must keep their reputation intact, you know.” She rotated her cup in her hands as she spoke. “Do…do you ever stop in Baldur’s Gate on any Blade of Frontiers missions?” She asked. 

He shook his head. “I was raised there, but left seven years ago. I was seventeen with an eye for adventure and haven’t been back since. I did enjoy seeing bards perform in the Lower City Plaza when I was a teenager though.”

“I used to perform at that plaza! My first paying gig was there. I was so nervous!” She smiled, her face lighting up as she reminisced. “It was such a big place, and it was the weekend so of course it was busy with people not even pretending to pay attention to me. I remember it so vividly! I wanted it to feel intimate so I cast dancing lights but instead of the cool blue they normally are when I cast, I changed them to be warm yellow, like candlelight. I thought I was so creative,” she laughed. “I think maybe twenty people listened to me that night, but I’ll never forget it.” 

Wyll couldn’t believe it. It was her - The Sunlark. What a small continent it was. 

“I wonder if our paths ever crossed before this. It’s such a huge city, it feels unlikely. But I got that gig when I was seventeen, and if I’m doing the math correctly, that would have been when you were sixteen, so there’s a chance,” she said, looking at him again and catching him smiling at her. “What are you smiling about?” She asked, taking a sip.

“I remember you. I saw that performance.” He finished his wine, the bottle now empty. 

He heard her choke on her wine and had to hold back his own laughter. “You did? And you remember it after all these years? It was either really good or really bad to be that memorable,” she laughed nervously. “Hopefully good, though,” she added.

The fire cast a diffused warm glow onto her, reminding him of that night. “Good enough for a sixteen year old boy to skip drinking with his friends at the Elfsong. And good enough to remember a pretty bard’s beautiful singing after seven years,” he said softly as he looked over and saw her shy smile, the faint blush returning to her cheeks. His gaze traveled over her face, taking in the faded bird tattoos, the scar above her eyebrow, her freckles, the scar cutting through her full lips. They looked soft. He saw her beautiful blue eyes do the same, pausing when they got to his lips. He realized suddenly that he had been leaning toward her, their bodies closer now than they were when he sat next to her. All it would take was him leaning in just a little more…

No, there wasn’t time for that. He cleared his throat and stood up quickly.

“It’s getting late, I should get to my tent. Tomorrow we hunt down Karlach and we’ll need all of our strength to capture that infernal devil. Goodnight, Rosalind, thank you for the conversation.” He bowed to her before turning and walking across camp.

******

Rosalind smiled to herself as she finished the last of her wine. He had seen her perform. He remembered her. He called her pretty . Gone was the embarrassment of the day. Gone was the desire to run away. Gone were the feelings of doubt and insecurity - at least for now. She was positive she’d make more mistakes, most likely tomorrow. But none of that mattered because the Blade of Frontiers complimented her singing voice. She would float on the cloud she was now on as long as possible.

Not quite ready to end the day, she went across the campsite to sit between Gale and Astarion, laughing at jokes they were telling at each other’s expense. Her favorites were the ones about Shadowheart’s permanent scowl - even Shadowheart managed to crack a smile at a couple of them. As the wine flowed between the four of them, however, the attention turned to her. 

“So, Rosalind,” Astarion crooned. “You and Wyll looked rather…cozy over there.” 

Oh, no.

She felt her cheeks get hot, sure they were turning bright red. “We were just talking,” she said, taking a long drink. 

“Please, the two of you looked like you were two seconds away from -”

“Now, Astarion,” Gale interrupted. “Rosalind and Wyll are young. Surely you remember what it was like to be so young after the heat of a battle? I could hardly blame them for their…closeness.” Rosalind choked on her wine again. Somehow it sounded even worse coming from Gale. 

“No, no. He was just cheering me up! It was a hard day, what with dying and the mission being a complete failure. That’s all. We both grew up in Baldur’s Gate, so we were reminiscing.” Gale, Astarion, and Shadowheart all exchanged a look that implied they didn’t believe her for a second. 

She looked up at the sky, squinting at the moon, now high overhead. Does that even mean anything for nighttime? She thought, suddenly wishing she had taken the time to learn just a little about life in the wilds and not focus her entire childhood on just surviving in the city. “Well! Look at the time! We should probably wrap this up - big day tomorrow, capturing a devil and all! I’m just…I’m just going to go to my tent now.” She turned on her heel and raised her hand to give an awkward wave. “Good night! See you in the morning!” She heard the sound of muffled laughter as she entered her tent. 

She took two deep breaths, thinking again about her conversation with Wyll. She smiled as she climbed into her bedroll, grabbing her small notebook she kept for jotting down notes, potential lyrics. She wrote “fire, wine, soft lips, almost kiss” on a page and closed it, holding it to her chest. 

“Sorry family of raccoons, I think my tadpole and I are going to be sticking around here,” she laughed to herself.

[hikennosabo]

#tristampparty day 5, episode 5: child of blessing

day 5 of @tristampparty let's gooooo

our radio djs today are... show hayami!!! (aka original wolfwood) and masaya onosaka again! i'm OBSESSED with casting hayami as the religious radio dj, i love these cameos so much and clearly there was a lot of thought put into where the cameos would be. very very cool

one thing i really think is interesting about trigun - every version of trigun - is the fact that god and religion (christianity) have such a presence but there is never confirmation one way or the other about the existence of god.

who is Missionary Michael

"newly"... we know they've been around for a while, though... and roberto's the guy with Information and Knowledge so i don't think he would make a mistake timeline-wise... EoM had an established presence in (or, more like an iron grip on) windmill village, so it's not like they were operating in complete secret until recently or anything like that. soooo, new relative to what?

wind... typhoon... is this anything

wait no i'm cooking. rollo was born on a windless day -> vash met rollo when he was a baby, the photo is taken -> rollo, as we see in the flashback at the beginning of the episode, prays for wind, implying that there hasn't been any wind in a long time -> rollo runs away, meets vash again, vash makes a promise he can't keep -> rollo gets turned into monev the gale... GALE... WIND... -> vash returns, "reunites" with rollo -> monev gets killed -> the wind blows again

TYPHOON, GALE, IS THIS ANYTHING??? I DON'T KNOW WHAT I'M COOKING HERE

this is when wolfwood notices that monev is a product of EoM... that's all he needs to know to decide what must be done.

vash has no idea about EoM or the experiments or the village sacrificing children, BUT if he hadn't brought rollo back to the village... maybe none of this would have happened. or it could've ultimately played out the same. maybe rollo would have been found by someone else. or maybe he would have died out there in the desert. but still. another thing for vash to feel guilty about even though it wasn't really his fault.

savior complex bouncing between him and knives like a ping pong ball

i love the phrasing. he's not god. he's a man. as much as he positions himself as a god, he's still... very human. as loathe as he would be to admit that.

*looks at previous screenshot* i'm seeing a pattern here.

as much as i don't like elendira ii, i think we should consider also giving little fangs to elendira i.

SPEAKING OF CHARACTERS I DON'T LIKE. tristamp conrad is so unbelievably cruel, what the hell. don't get me wrong he's still not GOOD in the manga and he DOES bear responsibility for, y'know, resurrecting knives and all... and generally being too little too late in taking action against knives... but THIS conrad is just so. ugh. why did they do him like this...

so the timeline would be...

20 years ago, the village was destroyed. assuming he was in the lab for 5 years (in other words, he was not let out and could have not wrecked the town during that time), would mean 25 years ago, rollo was taken and became monev. we don't know exactly how old he was at the time, let's say he was 10 for the sake of keeping it even. so ~35 years ago the photo with vash was taken, give or take.

we also don't know how many children were taken before rollo, or how often. but it was an established practice in the village which no one questioned. how long has this been going on exactly?

also just wanted to note that roberto notices the EoM banner in the house. i think that's a detail that gets forgotten because meryl finds the photo of vash right after... but remember that roberto is the one who tells us what EoM is (or rather, what their cover story is) in the first place...

... i don't need to say anything.

actually no there is something i want to say. right after this, monev loses one of his gun... arm... gloves...? uncovering his hand underneath. and also his mask turns off. and we see his face. in other words, there's still a human under there.

OKAY HERE'S THE TALLY I REALLY WANTED TO DO!!!!

wolfwood vial count: 1

wolfwood drinking a vial right before shooting monev... revealing/reinforcing his own "inhumanity" (to the audience? to himself?) right before mercy killing a fellow EoM victim...

i wonder what vash would have done had wolfwood not killed rollo. like. what was the plan. was there a plan? (probably not...) like, had rollo lived, he wouldn't have been able to live a normal life no matter how you look at it, right? wolfwood's mercy kill seems to have been not just the right call, but perhaps the only call...?

vash asking him to wake up... foreshadowing perhaps. maybe foreshadowing livio not actually dying from a gunshot wound to the head, unlike monev. or maybe foreshadowing the words vash might say when... no. i shan't.

speaking of livio... this is gonna come back next episode.

yeah, a lot of what wolfwood says about monev can be applied to himself and livio both. really makes you think.

god i love that the village lights up after everything is over. it makes me think... i don't know what to make of this. like. the reason why the village kept sacrificing children to EoM was because they believed sacrifices would bring blessings. and we know the village was struggling due to a lack of wind. so was EoM preventing the wind from blowing somehow?? there's no way, right??? how would they even do that...? and why would they continue to prevent the wind from blowing in a place that got destroyed 20 years ago?? so this brings me back to the beginning of this post... does god actually exist in this universe?? did god make the wind blow??? and why now? i... i don't know!!! i don't know, man!!!

i do like the way orange adapted monev. or... adapted isn't the right word. they reimagined him from the ground up. they made him more intertwined with vash, used him as a vehicle to introduce EoM, tied him into wolfwood and vash's clash of ideals... and the episode itself is tight, self-contained. and very tragic.

we don't actually know that much about the original monev... he was imprisoned, he has a line about "the man i thought was my father"... i don't remember anything else. the main reason why the monev fight in 98/trimax is memorable is because it contains vash's diablo moment, and it's the first time we really see him seriously consider killing someone. but here, this version of monev... well, we get the opposite. vash wants to avoid killing monev - rollo - at all costs. makes me wonder if we'll get a diablo moment from vash in season 2...

there's probably more to say but i'm tired and my brain isn't working at full capacity lol i need to go to bed. see you tomorrow for episode 6!

[mybg3notebook]

Gale: Manipulation, Lies, and Trust

Disclaimer Game Version: All these analyses were written up to the game version v4.1.104.3536 (Early access). As long as new content is added, and as long as I have free time for that, I will try to keep updating this information. Written in June 2021.

Additional disclaimers about meta-knowledge and interpretations in this (post) while disclaimers about Context in this (one).

Before anything I strongly suggest reading this post about "Context, persuasion, and manipulation" to understand in a simplified way the meaning of the words we use, so despite not being related to bg3, it's related to communication and social issues. Since fandom loves to misuse them, I think it requires a proper explanation so we all know in which frame we are analysing these scenes. 

Due to the fact that this post ended up turning into a much longer one than I wanted to, I split it into four posts, each of them showing how many sides Gale has in those scenes, how much his actions are "manipulative", how many details related to lore he shares, and possible interpretations of his behaviour, since it's rather easy to lose his scenes because they have the lowest priority. In this post I will only make a summary and a compilation of the broad details explained in those posts, so pick what you want to read since all these posts may have overlap of information and repetitive concepts (they were written to be self-contained as much as possible).

'Stew'Scene

"Loss Scene"

"Party Scene" (with Revelation scene)

"Extra Scenes": Death Protocol and Comments on Dreams

I'm analysing these scenes in detail because I noticed that many players incorrectly paraphrase Gale's words, putting in his mouth words he never said, so for the sake of transparency, I transcribed many fragments of his dialogues, making these posts more lengthy than they should be.

The stew scene

The details are shown in the post of the "'Stew'Scene". In this scene, Gale shares a friendly introduction with the stew and with a list of good deeds done by Tav. This shows that he has begun to trust Tav so he can talk about this issue earlier than he wanted to (he will wait much longer in the neutral version). As a gesture of honesty, Gale sets an explicit boundary by telling Tav to refrain their curiosity and do not ask about the 'why' of the issue he is about to talk about (under no circumstance he is forcing Tav to agree with the delivery of artefacts before telling them 'what' he needs). He acknowledges that it may be unfair not to give the whole context, but he still can't speak in detail about this very personal issue. As an interesting detail, his trust in Tav at this moment of the conversation is so honest that he has not shielded his mind, so Tav can intrude with the tadpole without Gale knowing it—if Tav succeeds— . If Gale doesn't trust Tav even successful intrusions of the tadpole can be perceived by Gale's trained and cautious mind. For more detail read the post of "The Tadpole".

I personally interpret the stew scene as one of those moments in which one is developing a friendship with a stranger, and at some point, someone has to trust first. It's a rare occasion in which the act of trust is shared in equal measure by both members in a new relationship. Usually, one of them offers a bigger portion of trust, testing the other, seeing if it was not misplaced or if it will be honoured later. It's a normal asymmetry, and in this case, Gale is only explicitly asking for that asymmetry in his favour. 

Considering how Gale opens up later, Tav passed the test in his eyes. Helping him during his direst moment and accepting that temporal trust asymmetry made Tav “earn the respect of years” despite being a stranger he met a couple of days or weeks ago. But Gale will not be blind to that gesture. He will progressively honour that trust in the Weave, the Loss, and the Revelation scenes. And by the end of EA, if it is not bugged as usual, Gale's approval status can change to “best friend” (an information given as meta-knowledge, therefore very unlikely to be "a trap set by Gale". For more details read the post about "meta-knowledge").

It's pretty common for manipulative characters (whose trait of manipulation belongs to their personality, not characters who may have circumstantial manipulative actions) to expose their pain too soon with strangers as a tool to force empathy on the listener and "catch" them. Gale does exactly the opposite: he won't open up until having a solid ground where to place his trust. Nobody wants to share their pain in unsafe places, after all. 

Helping him with artefacts is deeply appreciated by him and a great boost of his approval for obvious reasons: people tend to place their trust on persons who helped them in their most desperate situations or in their survival. It has to do with the unique connection that often happens between survivors of extreme situations (war-like) who helped each other in surviving. The shared link is deep. One could expect this link to be built with any of Tav's companions since the Tadpole experience is traumatising and extreme. I think this has higher chances of happening with neutral and good aligned companions, since evil ones may have little scruples to not honour the trust received. 

Gale could have avoided Tav's questions and mistrust for this secrecy by just lying. However, Gale opts for an explicit enunciation of his limits and boundaries. And Tav is completely free to agree or not since Gale won't abandon the party if not. We know that, in that case, he will try to find another solution that he may find in Raphael's deal. Some players consider this situation of mutual agreement in the terms and conditions that the conversation will happen as a coercive one. What I see is diplomacy and negotiation rather than manipulation.

Gale's need for secrecy is related to two factors: 

Survival: He needs to be sure that Tav won't kill him out of fear (which we saw during the scene with Nettie; it's a common procedure in Faerûn: exterminate what's dangerous). Gale's case is even worse because killing him will only activate the devastation he is desperate to avoid: Gale wants to survive but also wants to avoid the massacre that the “orb” can cause.

Personal reasons: Which is the main reason at this point: Gale is unable to speak about the "why" of this condition because it's originated in Mystra's abandonment and the horror of the “orb”: such traumatising experience that turns the Tadpole experience into an inconvenience (this is why his attitude with the tadpole is more relaxed too, he has already passed through a much worse, terrifying situation). 

The Loss scene reinforces this concept when we see Gale—usually so verbose and impossible to shut up— can't speak or find the words to say what he lost and why. And only by the end of the scene, if Tav insisted with many checks, he managed to say something. It's worth noting that these checks tend to be strangely low for a character who is struggling with a personal secret. This is usually understood in DM-code as Gale wanting to share this info (setting a lower DC than the average). Gale is not finding the way to do it, and a Tav gently pushing him will do the trick. 

It is for this reason I personally think that Gale's secretive attitude is more like a series of obvious clues he purposely leaves in his conversations for Tav to draw their own conclusions before he could finally open up. If all Gale's scenes are triggered (which at this moment is very hard to do with his priority being always the lowest) and Tav pushes him to speak more than he is willing to, the player obtains a decent amount of information to conclude that Mystra and Gale had a deeper relationship, and that the “orb” is something dangerous not only for Gale. To be honest, the death protocol is a gigantic red flag pointing out that Gale's primary condition is not to be taken lightly and “many innocents” can die because of it. 

With a neutral or lower approval, Gale will not ask Tav to trust in him. He doesn't trust Tav either, and there is no promise to speak and disclose his condition later. Gale clearly is more mindful and caring with a medium or higher approval Tav who he is starting to see as a good companion/friend, while with a neutral or lower approval Tav he cares little about keeping the contact beyond what diplomacy demands.

It's not by chance that this Stew scene is meant to happen before the Weave scene. From a narrative, contextual point of view, the trust that Tav gave Gale during the Stew scene is afterwards paid with the Weave and the Loss scene. Let's remember that Gale would only ask for that trust if Tav is of medium or higher approval, so the Weave scene comes naturally (when not bugged). The neutral and low approval Tav is never asked for that trust and therefore the Weave scene never happens (if their approval keeps going down). In fact, Gale can leave permanently without any chance of convincing him to stay if he reaches very low approval. What I mean is that, from a narrative point of view, the Weave and the Loss scenes are Gale's way to return that trust that Tav gave him first during the stew scene and the first artefact consumption.

The Weave was not a premeditated scene. It happened by surprise, triggered by Gale's deep loneliness: Tav startled him when he was longing for Mystra while seeing her image in his incantation. He shares in that moment how important and vital magic is in his life, and only then, the previous actions done by Tav encourage him to share this experience. It's important to highlight that this is too personal for Gale, too important, and a bit painful too, since we know later (second dream) that every time he connects with the Weave, he meets with Mystra's disappointment: "What magic I can still weave is met only with undercurrents of disappointing silence." 

After a moment of rambling, Gale invites Tav to share this experience. Here is where all the branches about explicitly displaying Tav's romantic interests can be developed; a neutral option for a friendship path, or very aggressive and violent reactions can be picked as well. More details about this scene can be read in the post of "Gale Hypotheses- Part 2", section: "Proposition to Cheat". And again, for a char so guarded of his own privacy and personal issues, sharing the Weave can be clearly seen as the repayment of the trust that Gale received from Tav during the stew scene.

The Loss scene 

The Loss is a scene that starts with a mystery about Gale's incapacity to cast a spell. He keeps pushing Tav away, claiming that night to be of personal regrets. Tav knows already that something is dangerous in Gale's consumption of artefacts that can cause a catastrophe, so in this scene some links can be made between the two conditions.

If Tav gently pushes Gale to speak, we will notice that most DCs are rather low, meaning that Gale is not putting a strong resistance for the pushing: a friendly Tav pushing him can be interpreted as Gale wanting extra help to open up and speak (in the end he approves the caring despite his reserved persona). Gale gives many hints in this scene that suggest he was a Chosen of Mystra. The most relevant one is the Silver Fire reference. For more details about the Chosen's powers read the post about "Mystra and her Chosen ones".

We also see a reinforcement of Gale's pattern behaviour: He prefers to speak in this poetic way when he has to talk about painful topics (we see it after killing the druids that triggers “the barren oak” scene or during the goblin party scene). Talking in third person puts distance, but also the embellishment of his narration makes it easier for him to speak, after all he is a poet/storyteller as well. 

What's clear is that the verbose companion, who always has a lot to talk about, is basically speechless in this scene, stuck in his "loss" (literally, metaphorically, and psychologically speaking). Part of this behaviour can be understood a bit more in the post about "Gale Hypotheses- Part 1", section: "Grooming". Besides being a private person, Gale also has a perspective that talking about things that can't be changed is useless. He is so stuck in the loss, that talking about it means nothing to him, "the outcome" is always the same. 

After pushing Gale to share his burden, the presence of Mystra in Gale's life is undeniable for Tav. Gale sounds like a strong devotee that somehow lost Mystra. We know in this short description that he “did something” to impress his Goddess and earn her favour back, and in doing it, he failed, invoking death upon him. If Tav is sharp enough, knowing that Gale's consumption of artefacts is related to a “catastrophe” and a certain death of himself... maybe they can start connecting some dots and suspect that Gale's primary condition may be related to the loss of Mystra. My point is, even Tav has been informed quite a lot about Gale's “truth”. As we can see, the “Revelation” scene should not be such a shocking “revelation” as it was written, but more a “detailed description” of the situation.

The context seems clear so far: Gale knows he hides the details of his condition (which are not so hidden anymore), and knows that it's information that can cause a second abandonment (whether as a friend or a lover). Gale is at this point in his life very tired and lonely of struggling with the “orb” inside him too. He could use some emotional support, and this is why I believe he has less tough DCs that one should expect from a character who is actively holding information he doesn't want to share. We need to remember that Gale lives in a permanent anxiety mind-state, too focused on Artefacts and the disaster he can cause, increased with the dreadful, hungry feelings that the “orb” inspires with each passing day. He is getting fond of Tav at this point, and their abandonment would mean too much, even though he knows that he may deserve it. 

We know that Mystra abandoned him, but did not ban him from using the Weave. I personally speculate that maybe Gale's point of view of the situation of the “orb” and the following abandonment of Mystra is partial: Mystra may have abandoned him not on purpose but as a consequence of having that Weave-sucking power in his chest. As it was explained in the post of "Mystra and her Chosen ones", Chosen ones have a deeper connection with her, and they are able to use raw magic in the form of Silver Fire. This means that Chosen are part of Mystra herself (in Dead Masks, it's stated that Mystra leaves a bit of her own divinity in each of her Chosen), so Chosen ones are also part of the Weave, always connected to Mystra who is the Weave. If the “orb” inside Gale consumes Weave, and we all know that Weave IS Mystra, it's not too far to conclude that Mystra may have abandoned him as a safety measure since, if Gale remained as Chosen, his contact with her would be deeper and would expose her to the “orb”, destroying her eventually. But this, again, it's a mere personal speculation.

The party scene

Gale has finally reached a degree of trust in Tav that gives him enough courage to finally speak about the details of the "orb" (and I emphasise details because in broad aspects, he already shared what's most important: the “orb” in his chest is a dangerous thing. If Tav assisted in his death protocol, this is undeniable by now, unless Tav did not pushed him and respected his privacy).

If he is romanced, he promises much more: confessions in the art of conversation, pleasures in the art of the body, and, hopefully, acceptance. For Gale, acceptance is a big deal: I personally believe he shows a fair level of naivety on this matter. It seems (especially later, with his arguments in the morning) he thought he needed this level of intimacy to reach acceptance first (a process that this book guarantees to happen), so he could speak openly. He wants to have this night before any confession because he wants to acquire acceptance which, in his mind, would prevent the abandonment he viscerally fears.

Gale is so eager to spend the night with Tav first and confess later that the only way of not doing it is not romancing him at all or telling him that Tav is not in the mood. It's not clear in EA if this ends the romance; I think it doesn't since the disapproval is not big (there is no change in the approval status).

 Gale wants to be with Tav intimately so badly that he doesn't mind Tav having casual sex with other companions first as long as the "commitment" part would be established with him. This is reinforced by the fact that, if Tav never shared the Weave with Gale, there is no way to sleep with him: Gale is not a character for one-stand nights. He craves for deep connection, for commitment, in whatever fashion he can get it. Mystra taught him not to ask about exclusivity after all, and because of the ephemeral nature of his relationship with her, he craves for something meaningful and more committed.

Mystra was his first love. After her abandonment, he made the mistake of the “orb” that dragged all his energy into studying Netherese magic and possible solutions. I consider it fair to think that maybe Gale never had a relationship beyond the Goddess, and all what he learnt about romantic relationships was through books like the one he mentions or, as a poet, through novels or romantic poetry. He must have an idealisation of love (also proper of a poet) that made him believe that through sex “intimacy” there is a guarantee of acceptance. 

His pattern, in my opinion, says that he tends to make mistakes in his emotional state, which is mostly triggered by the “orb” and the potential of “abandonment”. Not so much with Mystra herself. He seems to be nostalgic, but more aware of what loving a God causes (his regret is explicit during the conversation about Karsus). He seems to be quite done with "her romantic love", but that doesn't mean he doesn't want to be forgiven nor he doesn't love her as the essence of Magic itself. More details in the post of "Mystra and her Chosen ones". 

Some players see the “Revelation” scene as manipulative. Although that's personal interpretation, if we analyse the kind of information withheld by Gale we found little new: the dangerous nature of the “orb” had been indirectly disclosed in all the previous scenes. Tav being surprised about the “orb” seems strange. And Gale sleeping with Mystra has little relevance: in a game for adults, why are past partners such a big deal? The scene is so confusingly written to make it sound as if Gale is still in love with Mystra, but previous scenes showed he has been working on getting over it. Despite loving Mystra as the embodiment of Magic herself, Gale showed to be very aware that all that love belonged to the past (second dream), to a younger self, and even though he is not certain if he loves her still, he is clear that nothing good comes from relationships between mortals and gods (comments on Karsus). He is very explicit about desiring her forgiveness (second dream). So, there is little withholding information at this point for a Tav who pushed him to speak. Now, Gale's attitude certainly has been tactless. Not the best decision to disclose a past lover with such a degree of fascination just after sharing a night with Tav. But it's understandable since in order to “disclose” the “orb”, Gale needed to provide the context of his young love for the Goddess.

The whole scene of the Revelation seems very, very unpolished, mixing tones and confusing information that was given before and presenting it as if it were a revelation when it's not the case. It jumps from one drama concept to another, and never sticks to one, and Tav's options tend to be extreme: or the player calls this disclosure a “great betrayal”, or makes it seem as if nothing has happened, giving little options of what Tav already knows, or if they want to show a moderate annoyance since most of the information has been disclosed already, but still Gale's timing is annoying. Part of this can also be written on purpose to show what a disaster Gale is when it comes to the potential of “another abandonment” in his life. Hard to tell in EA.

Tav's romantic options react as if Gale confessed to have cheated on them, while what he explains has a different degree of conflict: he confesses he is not sure he still loves Mystra, but his lines in previous scenes show he wants to get over it, without losing his magic/relationship with Mystra, because magic is too important in Gale's life. At times, Tav's options are meant for them to react with jealousy, other times as if this were a big betrayal, or as if Gale's romantic past should have been disclosed before the night, and in the last part of the scene, Larian remembered that the “orb” could be considered a conflict too, so Tav has some occasional options to react to the “orb” as if it were a big revelation (when it's not, because we had 3 scenes, four if we include the death protocol, stating its dangerous nature). So, I personally understand why every person has a completely radical interpretation of the situation: it has been written in a rush, and I see it as very inconsistent in tone and context. This all makes sense when one remembers Kevin VanOrd stream where he explained that Gale was meant to be in the second wave of companions, and not in EA. Gale's writing was rushed and it shows in the last of his scenes and his meeting scene. 

Some people may argue that talking about a previous lover right after sharing the first night is, at the least, a very bad taste. However, the player (not Tav) can understand the reason behind it: Gale started the story in order to explain in detail the "why" that has been left up in the air since the stew scene. That "why" can only be explained if Gale discloses Mystra's relationship as the origin of his mistake. So... on one hand, this disclosure right after the shared night is unfortunate for Tav (especially by picking the long version of the explanation in which Gale shares too much unnecessary detail). On the other hand, if he omits this relationship, it's harder to explain the context of why he got the “orb” in his chest. 

In general I think this scene has been handled poorly. The whole “conflict” portrayed here implies two aspects: He slept with Mystra, and he has an explosive “orb” in his chest. Neither of them are truly big arguments for the drama degree that this scene seemed to have been written because we already know, to a certain degree, about them. 

The “orb” is not truly “such a revelation” at this point. The stew scene alone gave Tav and the player a clear idea that something in Gale could cause a catastrophe without consuming artefacts. After the death protocol that certainty is clearer. So, these “revelations” are more like “extra details” of problems we already know about. Which is what he exactly says when introducing this scene: “Those are but the broad strokes. The time has come to paint you the true picture”. 

Having past lovers seems also a strange concept for a “betrayal”. Adults carry pasts. It's true that maybe speaking of a past lover in the same moment he awoke with a recent one is in a pretty bad taste; it's a bit more understandable when you finish the scene: the origin of the “orb” problem was Gale's love for Mystra, so it makes sense to start from her. However, I see the conflict of the conversation switching constantly in three directions: the fact that Gale had a lover that didn’t talk about the previous day, that “Gale is still in love with Mystra”, and that he has an “orb” that Tav “never” knew about it. A very inconsistent conversation.

It's true that Mystra is not a standard lover—she is a goddess—but she is quite known to have these affairs (at least for the player), especially during her past when her direct contact with any human was not banned. It should be more surprising that Mystra seemed to have broken that ban for Gale's case (since she only kept in direct contact with her chosen ones: Ao's decree). And it's also clear the scene tries to show that Gale is still “in love” with her, which is very confusing with what he spoke during the Loss and mainly, during the second dream. Again, I personally feel the scenes of the party and the romance are a mess from a cohesive narrative point of view, and they are the result, alongside Gale's first meeting, of his rushed introduction into EA.

This post was written in June 2021. → For more Gale: Analysis Series Index

[lairofsentinel]

Do you think Oskar Fevras the artist whom you can buy in any way mirrors Gale? His story reminded me a bit of Gale’s in the whole hung up on your first love thing

Hello there!

Let me explain you how I understand Oskar Fevras. I think that may be an important key to see what I'm going to be concluding.

Oskar has the pretence of being a noble, and likes too much wealth and fame. His patron is his betrothed: Lady Jannath. The Jannath are a  family of wealthy mine-owners in BG, who, according to the Main Char's "gossip" knowledge, have been passing through a scandal when they realised that Oskar was a commoner. Apparently Oskar is known as the runaway groom for this.

I'm not so sure to believe that the problem in all his drama is his commoner past. But he doesn't clarify it in a very explicit way. We only have this information from the narrator and it's like a "rumour", something you picked in the air in the city's gossip, so it can be slightly different.

He clarifies that the date of the marriage was never set... but clearly the intention was there. What happened? "Complications", he adds.

Oskar tells you that before his fame as a painter and his affair with Lady Jannath, there was another woman he wanted to spend his life with [which make me assume he was with her until the last moment of the proposal] but when he was offered marriage with Lady Jannath, who gave him a better future because her wealth, he thought "important to tell her about his past".

These lines are a bit inconsistent in their logic, no? You love a woman you want to marry, but then another one very wealthy, asks you marriage and you consider to tell her "you are a commoner" [if we assume the rumour is true].... There is no much connection with the concepts... unless Oskar is saying other thing in his vague way of explaining this story.

In my opinion, he is saying:

I was with this woman I wanted to spend my life with. But on the other hand, I wanted to be famous and wealthy, so I started a serious afair with a person who would support my art: Lady Jannath [it's implied he became her lover without never telling her he was with the first woman]. All was done in order to have fame and wealth. Then Lady Jannath proposes him marriage, and he considers it's reasonable to tell her about "his past" [his past as in, there is another woman, there was always another woman]. This scandal triggered, and because we are talking about a noble family in BG, we know they can control rumours, so they preferred to make it about his "commoner" past instead of his double-cheating.

When he explained his past to Lady Jannath, he was "forced" to escape and think about who to "choose". He doesn't know yet. "Fame and wealth suit me very well." But when he thinks in his first love... he hesitates. He says all this with a very light tone, yet, he makes of this a big dilemma, almost a performance of drama: to choose between true love or wealth to develop his skills.

I may have taken all this a bit more serious if it weren't for the last line he says. If something I've learnt by reading a lot of books of narrative and how to write narratives, is that professionals don't put useless lines in the character's mouths to be wasted. They have meaning.

When the rescue is finally done, he asks for money to fight the "discomfort of the road", and, unless this has been changed in this last patch [I don't play BG3 since patch 2 or 3] he says something that makes you understand that he is going to spend this money in alcohol [he says something along the lines "well, I should endure the road sober then"]. So this last bit showed us that he is not really a very trustworthy person, he hides the truth just to take some extra benefit of the situation [we don't see a real struggle in all this, more like a performance of a struggle].

It's true the situation is a bit vague and this interpretation may be wrong, but Oskar is not exactly an honest char. He has his love for over-dramatisation and present himself as the victim in situations that are not thaaaaat bad.

Now, how all this is similar to Gale? I'm afraid I don't see much similarity, sorry. You can stretch things a lot to make Lady Jannath to look like Mystra [Mystra is the one who gave Gale the deepest connection with the Weave, which is something that brings him joy and sense in life to Gale. She is a kind of "patron" for Gale? It's too stretched, Mystra is a goddess of particular behaviour in her lore] ... but you also can connect her with the first woman by using the weak link of "being Gale's first love". Where the Main Character fits in all this analogy? How all this situation has a relationship with Gale, his abandonment issues caused by a powerful, immense entity as Mystra, and how he made dire mistakes to get her attention again, like all devotees do in this crazy Faerûn? I don't see it, sorry. Gale's first love was Mystra, the most powerful goddess of the pantheon of Faerûn. Oscar's first love was a mortal woman. I'm afraid I can't see much to relate there beyond the fact that "people have first loves" that imprint a strong effect in a person's life [which is true for almost all humans in real life].

I'm not sure if maybe this question is motivated by all those terrible takes that Gale receives in this fandom. I think a lot of people have serious problems with the fact that Gale has an ex. For this, people are a mixture of being offended by that and also treat the party scene as if it were a "big" revelation, which is not?. Sure, he has an ex that inspires him complicated emotions but it's clear he wants to get rid of that event and move on.

Gale never plays two sides. He is always very clear about the fact of having secrets, about his boundaries [another thing that the fandom doesn’t forgive him], and how complicated is for him to speak about Mystra. If you get nice rolls, you can even tell Gale that he is dreaming with Mystra [like, the game makes you AWARE of it XD]... And he also tells you that the tadpole dreams are about power and desire... I mean, if the guy says that, and then dreams with Mystra....why some people are offended/surprised after the party!??? haha. The biggest mystery in this fandom.

Sure, the scene is not handled in the best ways, there are some weird lines, everything looks so high-school cheap drama. I get that... I don't know, we have to blame it for being Early Access and for Gale not being Larian's fave.  But well... Gale has an ex. It's a fact, and one can know that very early if the fucking game couldn't be soooooo shitty bugged with his char.

Here is one of my videos [very old patch as you can see] where we can see the second dream: He says "These dreams are about desire", I pick the option of Mystra. "Yes, I dream with Mystra". You know by your own dreams that these dreams are very sexual in general... So, conclusion? Gale has an ex.

Oskar is playing with two women at the same time in the worst case scenario. In the best one, he abandoned his first love to follow wealth. Her first love [that, let's be honest, how much he loved her that he had no problem to cheat on/abandon when it comes to fame and wealth?] was put aside in favour of this noble. Then he leaves the noble one because he is unable to choose. He was the one who abandoned [or cheated, we can't say completely because it's vague] two women, not the other way around... Plus, to make things even more different, there is this small detail that the fandom always seems to be blind about because most of them only know Dragon Age lore: Mystra is the most powerful goddess in the damn pantheon xD Gale was a plaything in her grasp [this is the worst case scenario; I have a secondary interpretation, more kind to her, focused on Mystra's point of view]. But there is something very strong here that make these comparison too out of any frame to compare: She is not a normal woman... her power is not even compared with Jannath's. She is a Goddess.

So, in short: I'm afraid I don't see much in common. XD I mean, everyone has exes, every person with some age has a past even in Faerûn. Sure, this is Faerûn, so exes can go wild, I get it. XD And having exes is not always a "finished business" [specially when that comes with abandonment issues], but more like a WIP: something to deal with unresolved emotions from past partners that you want to move on, and sometimes a new partner may help you [or make everything worse]. I always read Gale that way.

Thanks for the ask!

[the-apocryphal-one]

Next of Kin

Summary: A special kind of pain squeezes her heart. The soft question that emerges from her lips is only natural. “Do you have any family?”Astarion x Isaniel

Also available at AO3 and ff.net!

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A/N: Merry Christmas to all your lovely readers!

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She should have done this before now. She knows she should have.

But there just hadn’t been time, at first. In the earliest days after her infection, she’d been teetering on a tightwire of panic and desperation, hastily cobbling together plans to get this thing out. Even when they’d stopped to eat or make camp, the thought of writing a letter to her son had never entered her mind—much to her shame.

Then, as days passed and nothing seemed to happen, she’d grown complacent. Maybe their parasites were defective. Maybe the ceremorphosis had failed. Maybe they could walk away from this with nothing more than some trauma and psionic abilities.

Then the sickness came and slapped her in the face with the reminder that nothing about these parasites is normal, nothing can be taken for granted, and nothing is all her son will know of her fate if she’s not careful.

But how do you do it? How do you say goodbye to your only child across hundreds of miles with no body language or facial expressions?

For the past few nights, Isaniel has been trying and failing to figure that out. Each time, she has pulled out parchment, stared at it for an indeterminate amount of time, laboriously pushed out a few words, stared some more, then folded it back up and returned it to her pack.

Tonight, she vows as she sits near a large, flat rock that will substitute as a desk, she’s not getting up until this letter is done. She pulls it out of her jerkin, smooths it out, places it on the rock, and uses a few pebbles to hold the corners down.

Selakiir, it says.

If you’re reading this, I’m very likely dead or worse. We can never foresee our fates, but I have a reasonable certainty as to what my particular ‘or worse’ is. The details are included in an additional, enclosed letter. That had already been written, perversely coming easier than this one. You may ignore it if you wish. I would not hold it against you if you did.

That was as far as she’d gotten. Now, she dips the quill back in the inkpot, sucks in a breath, and pens, I hope that the person who delivers this will be able to give you a first-hand account of my fate, so they can

Soothe you? Selakiir is bafflingly, wonderfully outgoing…but he is also private in his grief. When his father died, he withdrew from adventuring, his friends, even her. He’s not the type to accept banal well-wishes, especially from strangers.

answer any questions you have.

Her quill stalls. She stares at the drying ink, trying to muster up something else to say.

When she writes letters, they always end up much like her: detached and logical. But this is supposed to be a goodbye letter. The last thing her son might have of her. It…it has to be right. She can’t leave him feeling like she saw this as some sort of duty. If there’s one thing she’s always wanted to make sure Selakiir knew, and was always afraid he didn’t, it was that she loved him.

Remember: my love for you is like the moon. There are nights when it doesn’t know how to show all its self, but it is always there.

No, that should be in the closing paragraph. It’d be more final, more poetic. A lovely note to leave things on. But she can’t make herself scratch it out. There’s this foolish, superstitious fear that Selakiir will find out and be hurt. Isaniel grimaces, struggling to wrestle small talk, emotion, something onto the paper so it’s more than this dry thing.

It’s almost funny that I ended up adventuring like you

We’ll meet again in Eilistraee’s

I’m sorry I won’t be there for your wedding. The present I was making is in

Don’t you dare try to avenge me. Stay far away from

Isaniel presses her head against the heel of one hand and bites down an uncharacteristic scream. The paper’s empty spaces and crossed-out lines mock her.

“If you stare at that any more intensely, it’ll burst into flames.”

“Iblith!” she curses, startling so fiercely she upends the inkpot. She’s still thinking in Undercommon, so her next few words come out in it before she catches herself and switches back to Overcommon. “Dos olist mzild taga—stop that.”

Astarion is bent double with laughter, guffawing so hard some of the others are glancing their way. There are actually tears in his eyes. “And miss out on the chance to see you jump like a wet cat? I could never.”

Gods, he can be so juvenile sometimes. Something dangerously close to affection laces that thought, banishing the bitter frustration of failure.

Ever since that day he recoiled from her hand, Astarion has haunted her thoughts more than she would like. She has sought him out more frequently, asking questions, trying to understand him, trying to sort out what she should feel. He is dark and dangerous and cruel—and yet there is something in him, raw, genuine pain that mirrors what she once knew, that she cannot turn away from.

So, Isaniel is not surprised that Astarion’s bouts of childishness have become something she can think on with almost-fondness. Empathy, revulsion, confusion, curiosity already spin together in a whirlpool; what’s one more emotion on the pile?

That doesn’t stop her from shooting him a dour look as she rights the inkpot, though. “I will remind you that I have a rapier and that someday, I’ll be so startled I’ll stab first and ask questions later.”

“Ha! Duly noted.” Astarion gingerly—because of course he’s still worrying about getting stains on his clothes—sits next to her. Unabashedly, he peers at her pathetic letter. “What are you writing?”

She lets him peek. There’s no way he knows Undercommon…and even if he does, he won’t break her cipher. “A letter to my son. In case I die or transform.”

“Your son? That is a very important letter. Who will you entrust with its delivery?”

“Whoever among us is still alive, I suppose.”

“My, don’t you have a low opinion of our abilities.”

It’s not quite that; more like she’s just not picky. But he’s clearly preparing to launch into some spiel, so she chooses to simply wait rather than argue the point.

He doesn’t make her wait long, gesturing dramatically with his hands as he speaks. “Not that you’re wrong. Without you keeping his thirst for revenge and delusions of grandeur in check, Wyll will run off and get himself killed. Lae’zel and Shadowheart will kill each other before the sun goes down. Gale—” He chuckles. “Well. Need I go on?”

Irritation nips at her. Eilistraee knows her companions’ colorful range of personalities have given Isaniel more than one headache, but she still feels protective of them. “Yes, actually—or am I supposed to believe you wouldn’t be leaping into situations fangs first?”

“Ah, but if there’s one thing you can trust me to do, it’s survive those situations. I can see that letter to your son, darling.”

She snorts at his transparency. “You just want to read it.”

He just shamelessly grins, unapologetic about being found out.

Isaniel toys with and discards the idea of chastising him. The matter is too small to make a fuss over, and his cat-like tread and nimble fingers mean he can very much lift the letter off her if he wants. Although…hm. Maybe she can twist this back around on him. She shrugs with feigned disinterest. “Well, it’s not like you could, anyway.”

Astarion inspects his nails. “Oh, I’m sure I can get a scroll of Comprehend Languages somewhere.”

“It’s not just in Undercommon. It’s encoded too.”

He’s visibly taken aback by that. It’s childish of her, but she can’t help thinking, That’s a point for me. Gods, it’s too fun to match wits with him. “You write to your son in code?”

“It was a game we played when he was little.” It had simultaneously been a way to teach him and soothe her paranoia. “We’ve kept it up since.”

In a calculated move, Astarion twists and leans in close. His voice drops, becomes husky. “You do know there’s nothing more tempting than something you can’t have, yes?” His eyes deliberately trace a path up her neck and settle on her mouth.

He’s trying to knock her off balance. Isaniel would rather walk barefoot on hot coals than let him know he has—though not, she suspects, for the reasons he intended. Let him stare at her mouth or neck, he’s a flirt and a vampire spawn. No, the feel of his breath tickling her skin, the way his hand is almost but not quite brushing hers, is more alarming. It’s too intimate. Distracting.

She hastily delivers the coup de grace before he can spot the rapid flutter of her pulse. “What better way to guarantee your delivery? Stubbornness or curiosity will make you hold onto it until you crack it. But you won’t, so you’ll have to bring it to Selakiir to find out what it says.”

A heartbeat. Two. Then Astarion laughs, throaty and deep, sits back, and shakes his head. “Well played, my dear.”

With fresh distance between them, Isaniel exhales in relief. She hastily tries to cover it up by pretending to shift in her seat, but there’s a certain twinkle in Astarion’s eyes that tells her she failed. She clears her throat, praying that her face doesn’t betray her fluster. “I’ll give it to you when I’m done.”

She expects that to be the end of it, for Astarion to fire a parting quip and wander off to tease someone else. But her surprise, he doesn’t. Instead, he props his chin in his hand and studies her.

That look in his eyes…is that actual curiosity?

Like paper thrown into fire, her own is fanned. She hasn’t bothered to ask how old he is, but she can make an educated guess. The Underdark’s abusive culture forces drow to mentally mature well before their twenties; surface elves like Astarion can afford to wait until their first century or so. Of course, magistrate isn’t the type of position you typically get straight out of adolescence, so there could be anywhere from a rough fifty years to another two hundred on top of that. For some reason, she doesn’t peg him as any more than three hundred, pre-turn. Post-turn adds another two centuries.

For humans, several hundred years encompasses several generations. But for an elf… His parents and siblings could still be alive. So could his possible children. Unless he, like her, had a half-human child. They would have died in the time he spent enslaved.

Selakiir’s warm brown eyes and smiling face flash across her mind. A special kind of pain squeezes her heart. The soft question that emerges from her lips is only natural. “Do you have any family?”

A shadow briefly flickers across his face; then, like a rat fleeing for its life, it is gone. He smiles brightly and waves a dismissive hand. “Oh, let’s not exhume the past. There’s nothing interesting about it.”

Isaniel furrows her brow, but before she can say anything, Astarion rises, brushes his trousers off, and struts away. As is all-too-common of late, her gaze lingers on him until he disappears inside his tent. She exhales slowly. If he departed with such alacrity, it’s probably for the best she didn’t get to push him. Eilistraee knows how well that went over last time, and she’d just been clumsily trying to comfort him.

She glances down at the letter. Inspiration strikes. Spontaneously, she pens in another sentence. If accompanying this letter is a pale, white-haired elf named Astarion, point him to the Dancing Haven.

It’s unusually risky of her. If Cazador really will stop at nothing to get Astarion back, she could be bringing a vampire lord down on her congregation. And Astarion just might be callous enough to repay them by selling them out or abandoning them. He does not deserve such risks, the old Isaniel insists.

But then, she wouldn’t be here now if an Eilistraeen hadn’t taken a risk for her over a century ago, when she hadn’t deserved it.

She adds, I don’t know if he’ll actually go there, but like me, he’s fled some sort of dark past. I hope that, in absence of my aid, he can at least find refuge.

Bantering with Astarion seems to have unlocked some wellspring of words from deep within her; the mention of her past gives her the subject. Speaking of which, you may have all my belongings, including the forge and the new house. The password to disarm the magical traps is the same as our old one—I hope you remember it? Your father was always fondly exasperated by my insistence on having them, but you loved to show them off to your friends. My memories of you two are the best in my life…

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The next day, she hands Astarion several pages and a “thanks” that holds more meaning than he knows.

-

Drow isn’t officially a language in 5e, but it was in older editions. So even though Isaniel was technically speaking in Undercommon for a bit, I went ahead and borrowed words from their dictionary. Rough translation:

Iblith: shit

Dos olist mzild taga: You stealth (intended to be akin to sneak or skulk) more than— (“a drider” is what she would have finished with)

Also Overcommon is just Isaniel’s name for Common.

[bledmagic]

**the following is no way indicative of direct rp interactions & is solely referring to the personal canon to idrylla. if your muse wants to refer to the closeness of one of the companions listed here by all means, unless you are holding another rper muse in mind as that connection is different & not based upon these by the interactions idrylla & that muse has had. however if you would like to base interactions on these descriptions with your muse def lemme kno & we can plot on this further !

idrylla is not the only focus of the story, they are one of many that line the cast of our main tale & the interactions between idrylla & these characters drive the story forward or back. as the game still rests within the area of early access & there are hints from datamining of future companions this list is not complete nor is it going to contain anything proper beyond act 1 in terms of connections. with the previous statement said, here is each of our companions & the relationships held with idrylla as per the canon to their character & me. **i will note if i have romanced a npc like this, as the game is in early access n just like in who’s line is it anyway the choices n points dont matter there is no canon romance for idrylla at this moment in time. 

LAE’ZEL: idrylla has very few memories of the nautilus. their capture, their containment, & the escape itself is somewhat of a blurry mess. what they do remember is lae’zel. they remember her face, her struggling, her escaping that pod. they saw the moment the mind flayer infected lae’zel & the fear held within the githyanki’s features. all of this is unspoken between the two, but for idrylla it’s spurned a lot of emotions that have boiled down to pushing idrylla to get close to lae’zel & be quite defensive of her with strangers( shadowheart can make a few insults as a treat, lae’zel in return can make some serious threats in return as a treat ). it is with the first weeks of travel idrylla can be found hanging out along side lae’zel like a safety net, finding the familiarity of their escape as a bridge to base a friendship upon. despite that link that idrylla has tied between them they find lae’zel absolutely delightful in every way possible & considers lae’zel probably the closest friend idrylla has had in years, the honesty lae’zel shows in the most blunt way a refreshing change from the passive aggressiveness of the wizards guild peers. beyond all this, lae’zel is also the first githyanki has ever known & has prodded the poor warrior with a multitude of questions to absorb the info like a weird elf sponge, even going out of their way to learn on their own & ask lae’zel about later on. idrylla holds lae’zel’s opinon in high regard & often will ask her or look to her for her advice & even if not followed takes it in consideration. anyways they are best friends. ( lae’zel: we are not ‘friends’ / idrylla: you’re right. we are best friends, pal. / lae’zel: tch. ) **lae’zel has been romanced 

SHADOWHEART: while idrylla did try to save shadowheart from her pod, idrylla also has particularly failed at every turn to get shadowheart to even attempt to trust them. traditionally anyway. since the common ground of the parasite & needing to team up & trust each other has failed to get shadowheart to loosen up, idrylla has taken the approach to just be a utter nuisance to shadowheart. often chiding the other with jokes or teases, stirring up trouble between shadowheart & lae’zel, forcing shadowheart to go talk to people at parties( notable example is when idryl forced shadowheart to dance with them at the big fun tiefling celebration party in which shadowheart was so emabrassed she probs would have died on the spot if she wasnt actually having fun the whole time ), etc etc. shadowheart stresses idrylla out, so tightly wounded & clearly bothered by something that is clearly at times more dire than the worm in their brain. it activates idrylla’s older sibling mode near instantly as often the fussing of the other reminds idrylla very warmly of their younger siblings, one being very similar to the uptight cleric. when shadowheart does breakdown some of those walls & reveals her religious beliefs idrylla presents themselves as very accepting. while agnostic themselves, they do make a point to show they hold no ill will to shadowheart & support them, but more importantly wants shadowheart to learn to rely on them from then on to be more honest about anything. it’s after this shadowheart tends to be less antagonistic toward idrylla. but only a little less.

WYLL: idrylla noted early on that the “”””stone”””” that rests in his socket has a heartshaped looking pupil & annoyingly( to everyone except wyll himself ) calls him hearteye. as a baldurian they are very well versed in knowing the various tales & stories of the blade of frontiers. wyll is idrylla’s favorite drinking companion & the two get along like a pair of bros in a budding bromance that will make the fans go crazy. wyll holds a hard sense of justice that idrylla tends to think of a buzzkill at times, but does value the pull of morality his chiding holds considering her own moral standing at current is fuzzy at best. she does truly worry about how skiddish he tends to be about his guarded secrets & once learning upon the truth they promise to aid them in his quest to save his ‘totally not devil girlfriend’ & when wyll protests about such a title idryl simply responses ‘oh no i totally get it, hearteye.’ with a laugh & wink. idrylla also has wyll teach them the use of the blade, taking those teachings & applying them to their learnings of the staff as a weapon vs a channel for magic. often one can see them sparing in camp on down time. wyll is also the only one of the companions who gave idrylla a proper condolence when idrylla’s less than tragic backstory is revealed to the the companions, to which idrylla who was properly touched thanked him with a hand to their heart & a ‘aww, thanks man. you’re a real one.’

ASTARION: idrylla is far softer on astarion than they should be & they will deny it. usually such a judgement of letting astarion getting away with ( in most cases, literally ) murder is preceded by a loud groan or sigh. it’s not that idrylla wants to dull astarion’s sparkle, but more of a general worry. the more idrylla learns of him, the more & more they just feel bad( astarion: i rather be spared of pity, thanks / idryl: it’s not pity. i don’t pity you its just. well hearing that shit that happened to you ? makes me sick, man. horrible things to go through. makes me want to hit something. ). but the primary worry is what will happened to their newfound friend once the parasite is extracted, will astarion burn up in the sun ? prevented from hanging out with them at bars ? will they not be able to find something for him to eat on the journey they set on ? idrylla has no real way to comfort astarion in the face of his past & it makes them uncomfortable. all that can be offered is a arm about his shoulder & a ear to listen.  beyond all this, however, the two get along disturbingly well. idrylla’s current fuzzy moral standing & general pull to do really stupid things setting a stage for the two of them to act in their own chaotic fashion. the two make comments with each other that would make people wonder if they share a braincell. idrylla often pulls lae’zel into their shenanigans much to her dismay. the fact that astarion is a vampire spawn has absolutely zero negative effect or reaction from idrylla. **astarion has been romanced

GALE: i hate these two. considering gale being a wizard busybody i have to do the most divergent shit with this mf. love this catdad, anyways here go. gale & idrylla absolutely know of each other prior to the events of the game & have a loving rivalry friendship thing going on. they have met a few times due to the wizarding guild( take in mind, this wizard guild is something im developing for idrylla & is not canonical to the game ) of which gale would visit, but is not apart of, due to his associations. the two never had a proper moment of conversation prior but are as i said, very aware of each other at least in terms of their talents in magic. so whilst there is a pre-established link between them they are without a doubt strangers. their rivalry comes out at any time magic is spoken about or knowledge thereof. a interesting change in demeanor for idrylla who, for all intents & purposes before & during the events, tended to not have a proper ambitious or know-it-all bone in their body. the two will often agree about magic or purposely disagree. they speak of other wizards & generally are capable of working together to figure out spells or something magical in puzzles. when gale says that idrylla knows nothing about the weave, it took everything in idrylla to not set him on fire. when faced with the truth about gale’s utterly stupid need to consume magic & the reason behind it, idrylla simply just starts smacking him on the arm & calling him an idiot( considering idrylla’s recent expulsion from the wizarding guild spurred on by peers that are  power hungry & would do whatever they could to get ahead, the ordeal of gale sits very heavy on idrylla. while they does apologize later & explains the why. ). over time the two have gotten less antagonistic to each other & more or less bicker for the fun of it, showing that the two have found themselves more or less comfortable with each other & in their aventures found respect in each other’s talents. so far anyway. idrylla has threatened to steal gale’s cat( in jest to make gale wig out. )

[gplewis]

creating content is the way out

creating content is the way out because that’s how you become something different. have a thought and put it in form. make what’s invisible visible; this is a form of speaking up, of self-honesty. lord knows i need to be edited; lord knows i can’t do it all, can’t solve my money problems, won’t support myself by myself, will keep needing to be bailed out or supported or appreciated ~ of course, what i have to say relates to the strange nexus between money and love, perceived needs and an opportunity for persistence...one can always take a breath and try another way, risk another failure...what one says one needs is not often the thing needed; often, only patience is needed. nobody wants to hear this. we are emotional creatures bristling with wanting to know, and yet we know the thing we want to know can’t be known, so we are a wanting animal that is never satisfied. and i’m right about this; how can my knowledge be monetized? a course? entrepreneurship? branding, winning fans, building a business? i guess so; if only I wasn’t so critical of business; if only I didn’t crave solitude so much — i’m stuck being me and playing my part; oh, who would pay me to keep writing whatever i want? hard to know...unknowable, even. all there is is approaching. i bet people will get frustrated with me because the truth i so easily see is hard and strange to swallow; people don’t like that what i know is true really is true: it’s groundlessness all the way down, and creating is the only floor to push against, the only mother we have during this spiritual stage of being a human being. now, can i turn my insights and way of seeing into poetry, novels, plays, paintings, operas, symphonies, arias, albums, collections, essays, films, television shows? classes, courses, universities, seminars, colleges, programs? emails? websites? sure. content development is a way to avoid doing other work, it’s a way around work

we can always think and talk about community, values...we can always go back to saying the next thing to the next person.

so, i’ve written a voluminous diary. i have a lot to say — i am also always moving on from everything I’ve said...so the record of content grows large.

“Our imagination flies -- we are its shadow on the earth.” ― Vladimir Nabokov

“An idea is like a rare bird which cannot be seen. What one sees is the trembling of the branch it has just left.” ― Lawrence Durrell

So, what I am doing with writing is reaffirming my own existence and presence, saying “I’m still here” to be hired, included, read, listened to — ha!

“If you're going to be crazy, you have to get paid for it or else you're going to be locked up.” ― Hunter S. Thompson

What I can’t stand is the people in my life who tell me not to do art for money. No, my “art” is my belief system about what is good, what is worth doing, what is worth being free for...so of course I will be out on a limb alone every day of my life ~ the goal or ideal is to have OTHER PEOPLE — OH, THAT REMOTE CONCEPT, OTHER PEOPLE — SUPPORTING ME AS I GO MY PLACES. Of course it never comes solidly enough; it is always a slow drip of people circling back to finally respond to that thing you sent which you’ve now forgotten about.

every wanting for money is just a breakthrough waiting to happen I could have found myself; an exclamation of worry is...clearly very common: look at social media, it’s endless clamoring for certainty or being seen being uncertain

AND SO WHAT IF I’M RIGHT?!

i write in a way such that i am actively changing my taste and becoming the person who with more maturity than ever will look back upon this pile of prose poetry (blurt, yawp) and decide whether it’s part of my art. it’s so self-indulgent, creativity, but it’s also essential: creativity is the place where we heal the planet, where we unlearn and deprogram on a visceral, cellular level (in a sense, my literary activity is a cancer or a symptom of the broken, unjust systems of oppression and employment in the world as it is, heartbeat y heartbeat ~ the world produces poets because the world is in pain; a poet is a planet’s tears.

So I’m someone with ideas about poetry; can I stop writing and instead share what I’ve written with someone? When will I stop building and start selling? Of course they’re both done with the same hand, same mind, same gale force wind of living against the grain. Impudence

“Long live impudence. My guardian angel in this world.” — Albert Einstein

Openly questioning and challenging accepted norms. Yes, this life of #resistance, being the change, being the sand you want to see in the gears...surrendering to how you can help (gibberish generator who stands by his gibberish rain or shine)

The only way to mature is to endure. Get older. Stay alive and keep going.

[courage-a-word-of-justice]

HGPC 17 - 21 | Koi to Producer 2 - 6 | Appare 5 - 8 | Fugou Keiji 4 - 6

...only just realised I was missing some tags. They should be there now or soon.

HGPC 17

Why do I get the feeling the Sawaizumi family will be held hostage one day…? (Maybe I’m just being negative?)

The episode title mentions Chiyu by name, so I wonder why the translation didn’t…

Customer service! You can’t get away from it, even in COVID times…! (Impressive!)

Hmm…you can actually read part of the booking for the Smiths in the book if you know the kanji.

I thought the Smiths would speak in English, but they actually speak in fluent Japanese if the word “susume” was any indication.

Ah, Sukoyaka sweet buns! (from the other episode about the festival)

HGPC 18

Don’t burn down your house with scented candles, kids!

Also remember to use your knees when lifting heavy boxes! (<- says a charity store volunteer, who does this stuff on the regular)

These days the mascots usually have a human form. I wonder if this is implying that particular direction…? (I woke up today and was craving a certain oneshot I’d read during my scanlation days…if it is, it would fill that niche nicely.)

I wonder if the kids will recognise this Ashita no Joe parody…?

HGPC 19

“…since you were young?”

Oh! Element of Wind again!

Koi to Producer 2

This almost feels like Victor is assigning a school project to Protag-chan…it’s a bit sad, really.

It’s nice they let Protag-chan have a personality.

It’s fine if you can’t read the katakana, but Gavin’s name is Haku in Japanese, so it throws out the immersion somewhat…also, I know I shouldn’t be complaining – I’m the target audience here – but do these guys look kinda similar or what…? (partially kidding)

High school sweethearts, huh? “Childhood friends” is my favourite angle of a romantic relationship, but it gets so overused by harems it comes around to being boring…!

I-Is this Stand My Heroes…?! (LOL…?)

Can we not with 1st person cam…?

As cute and dorky as this stuff gets…how does Gavin never get found?! Does nobody ever look up in this city?!? (I thought Evolvers were meant to be a secret…?)

GPS tracker? That’s no better than large corporations using your location data…Isn’t that creepy…?

Hold on, when did she get his phone number? You would assume it was before this entire chase after the boy happened, but still…?

LOL, the English on the board.

This anime is gonna cause me some frustration, but it gives the good stuff in roughly equal measure. It seems to omit the fact you interact via phone with your bois for intimacy (in the game).

Koi to Producer 3

LOL, that’s so clearly Gavin…

By googling, you find out Uptown and Queens are in New York.

Ohmygosh! Did the creators know I love the trope where only people with superpowers can move in certain circumstances?!

Uh…his name is Kira in Japanese? Did someone read the katakana wrong?

Pictured: Depressed bishonen eating bad pudding. (…That joke sounds better in my head. I forgot what meme I was meant to be parodying there, but I had a meme in mind.)

Lemme guess…this man (I dunno if it’s one of the previous bishies with an identical face or a new one) is looking for MC-chan. *sigh* Update: Yep, just Victor again. To be honest, I don’t like anyone who calls harsh words “their sign of love” – love should be honest and upfront. That’s how it becomes heartmelting.

Koi to Producer 4

Okay, in order, it seems to be hexadecimals, Javascript (you can tell from the “const”), some kind of profiles which are apparently for human lab rats (which seem to have some kind of nonsense filler text), a DNA model and DNA bases (ACGT).

The text on the screen says something along the lines of this being an official broadcast of this man’s arrest and this man was a genetic researcher. Obviously, if I wanted to put more attention into what it meant, I would, but I won’t sweat the details this time (because it doesn’t seem to impact the plot).

The guy’s name is Minor because minor key (geddit?)…that’s my guess.

I started playing the game due to this anime, if you didn’t know, and I unlocked an expert in ch. 2. I thought he was Minor, but turns out his name is Spine (an older man).

The diary, true to form, contains details about either one case or several cases, two involving children. The bottom of the 1st page says “if it’s fake, I’ll laugh”.

Hey, I once told Crunchyroll I wanted an anime about hacking (so is this a dream come true? I reveal all in the next sentence!). Hackers don’t congregate like this…they’d be too conspicuous, even with the secret hideout!

The code in the top left appears to be…C? I think? (Note they declare “unsigned int”.)

Kiro sometimes reminds me of Masayoshi (SamFlam)…it puts a derpy smile on my face.

*blah blah blah I’m Key* - Wuh…? F*** you, Kiro!!! (There is such a thing as piling too much cool stuff on to a character, y’know – I’m guilty of it in my own writing.)

3684 isn’t a very safe password (says someone who once aspired to be in cybersecurity).

What bugs me is that Simon is a perfectly fine name…it’s just a bit boring. Kiro/Kira I get (a bit), but Lucien/Simon…? *shrugs*

Ohh! Based MAPPA! Thank you for making this adaption look great!

Koi to Producer 5

Oh, I got an SR in the game recently and it has a line like, “Only a fool stays up all night to do others’ work. Victor talks like that a lot…

The sign so obviously says “Renka”, meaning “love flower”. “Loveland” really is a step down from that…

Where’s Gavin’s guest badge…?

“Happiness Noodle Store”…?

“…the end of our first year…”

If this weren’t a Chinese work by origin (or Japanese work by translation), I’m sure Protag-chan would have gone after Gavin, despite being told the contrary.

Kanya = Minor. I’ll take a note of that.

One of the books behind Minor says “Gale Start”…hmm…

That GPS tracker is still unintentionally creepy, IMHO.

Koi to Producer 6

…oh. (dejected) Probably a beach episode or something.

What the actual heck was going on with Lucien…? It’s like he was having a tiny stroke there…

Lucien’s power is listed as “???” in the game. I thought he was an aura-reader when he said “show me your colour”, but that shield thing he did means he might just have various psychic powers…? *shrugs* We’ll find out eventually.

Running in heels is hard…

LOL, that’s so clearly recreating a CG from one of the cards.

This is the 2nd time this has gone pseudo-isekai. As much as I like to joke about it…I fully expect someone to be sent to another world at this point.

I couldn’t possibly see Victor on any kind of game show, come to think of it.

Appare 5

This guy’s middle name is “Rich”! That’s silly!

A boombox from the 19th century…makes sense, somehow.

I only just (?) realised Al has a tiny tie on his usual outfit.

Back to the beginning already…just start!

Appare 6

…I just realised Appare mouths “I got it!” in the OP.

Al Lion (sic…?)

Isn’t Sofia in that train…? Update: She might have been, she might not. Hard to tell when they don’t confirm.

This series seriously could’ve done with a dub…Even with weird hokey Hetalia accents, it would be good stuff.

These bunches of people at designated points…reminds me of the book I was reading while in Japan. The Long Walk by Stephen King (part of a compilation). It still gives me shivers down my spine when I remember it.

This “leave in the middle of the night” thing reminds me of the Amazing Race.

“Valley of Despair” is made-up, but Death Valley exists. It’s one of the hottest places on earth, hence the name.

LOL, Kosame scores himself one (1) prarie dog and two (2) Hototos.

I thought Appare was being inconsiderate at first…but he’s being considerate, in his own way.

Oh! I didn’t realise, but Saito Soma is Al.

Appare 7

“It’s not one plus one, but one times one!” – LOL.

Hybrid engine? In the 1900s? Hmm…

LOL, I think Al just did a hadouken.

This stuff’s like an animated Galaxy Brain meme! It’s amazing!

I managed to successfully predict – without watching ahead – Appare would catch himself with his traps.

Kosame with his hair down…is rare. Not exactly attractive because we have to care about the racers rather than lust after them (and the artstyle actually prevents me from doing so, because it’s deliberately quite cartoony), but it’s rare.

Appare is surprisingly childish…that’s what makes him more than a Sheldon Cooper, I think.

The spelling of the place is actually “Ely”, if Google-sensei is any indication. C’mon, subbers! You’re American (most likely)! Can’t you put in the legwork (or the Google-fu) to discover what place in Nevada this is?!

Subbers make characters say “shit” a lot in this show, hmm? (contemplative)

Now this evil guy here *points to screen*…that’s hair I like.

Appare 8

I just love this OP…don’t you?

I like how the steam/gas boat/car has Chinese numerals on its dial.

Kosame means “small rain”, so “heavy rain” is obviously to contrast that.

The Hototo joke never gets old.

I thought I just saw someone leave the saloon…

Nice hair + terrible face = bad equation.

I can almost imagine the wee-oo-wee-oo-ooooooo…wah-wah-wahhh…(You know the one sound snippet, right? The one theme from The Good, the Bad and the Ugly - or whatever movie it is – that maybe involves a tumbleweed rolling across the screen, and then a huge shootout? If you don’t know it, play a sample on this Wikipedia page!) playing in the background.

It’s convenient the prarie dog didn’t appear when Hototo (old) had his revenge spree.

I noticed there’s a bit of a mark under Kosame’s left eye…it suggests that he’s been crying (or maybe it shows tiredness from the race…?), but it’s not that noticeable.

So that’s the real Gil…and tose were his henchmen that threatened to hang everyone bar Kosame. Got it.

(notes to self) So, for charting a course with Appare Ranman!, it’s Los Angeles -> Death Valley -> Ely -> Denver -> ??? -> New York. Got it.

Fugou Keiji 4

“Daisuke-sama” isn’t “Lord Daisuke”, it would be “Sir Daisuke”, I think…but “lord” has a proper translation in Japanese.

The truck has a Shinagawa licence plate. Anime really does like Shinagawa, huh? (Based on ID: INVADED and this.)

I think it’ll be interesting to see Kambe handle this without HEUSC.

The board for Sanchome (which is equivalent to a suburb…or a county, I guess?) has posters saying stuff like “take your dog poop home” and “let’s protect the environment!” (technically, it says “let’s protect the region/area!”, but that doesn’t translate right. There’s even a flea market. Still, those posters don’t have any big hints…not that I know of so far.

I kind of forgot that dude was the gardener for Kambe’s house…er, mansion.

I noticed a poster in the kouban says haru (spring) on it. That’s probably the same one that Haru’s name is signified by, assuming that’s not in combo with another character or few.

Oh great…the sister is an overbearing one.

Ahh…he doesn’t like natto. So that’s the problem. Daisuke is childish (like Appare)…Note I don’t like natto either, but I wouldn’t run away from home (or similar) because I was fed natto.

I noticed Kambe uses shinseki (which doesn’t refer to close family). “Relative” is a correct translation of that word, I just wanted to check that word was the right one for the context.

There’s a green tea bottle by the sink…I don’t think I’d mistake that shade of green for anything else.

LOL, I didn’t think we’d actually get to see Kambe with his hair “down”, so to speak. It’s…an interesting look, for sure.

Oh my gosh! It cost him (Haru) $15!!! (LOL, cheapskate…says the cheapskate…*suddenly droops and stops laughing*) Update: Sorry about the sudden downer there. I was having what the kids these days call a “woke moment”…at least, I think that’s how they use that term.

…I’d watch that crime drama. It’s funny.

Just realised Kato has an older model of phone than Kambe does.

This episode was kinda like a Tokyo Sonata kind of thing, huh? The sensational in the middle of the not-so-sensational…”sensational” for this show, anyway.

Those kids look like the ones from Erased.

*lightbulb goes off in brain* What if the dog went to Kambe’s…?

Can Suzue actually hear HEUSC while Kambe is using it…? $2.46 though…that is cheap, in comparison to the ham.

This was the cheapest episode so far (about $550)…probably because it was an insight into Kato’s life, more than Kambe’s.

Fugou Keiji 5

The flag seems to be based on Cameroon’s (which is in Africa, not America) and the “Arita Kinen” seems to refer to Arima Kinen, meaning this episode is set around Christmas-ish. Credit goes to Kambe Zaibatsu on this show.

I-It’s a Humvee!

Polyadoll (sic)…?

The Poliador guy speaks perfect Japanese…(?)

The star! It’s a key thingy!

I thought Kamei was the 1st Division dude with the reddish hair. Turns out it was the blonde…? Update: Redhead is Hoshino.

Ummmmmm…he was reading porn…? Uhhhhhhhhhhhhh…okayyyyyyyyyyyyy…

…oh, the costs for Kambe’s tuxedo are on there. So’s the cost for repairing the bike Suzue rode.

Fugou Keiji 6

I never knew there were so many money proverbs to be used as episode titles…

What is Kambe doing with his hands…? He’s not even using the computer.

Imura seems to use a Windows 10 with Cortana on the taskbar.

HGPC 20

What’s with all the Naruto running this episode…?

HGPC 21

(no notes, sorry!)

[mybg3notebook]

Lore: Details about the “Orb”

Disclaimer Game Version: All these analyses were written up to the game version v4.1.104.3536 (Early access). As long as new content is added, and as long as I have free time for that, I will try to keep updating this information. Written in June 2021.

Let's start with the context, because everything related to Gale is packed heavily with Forgotten Realms lore, and since the game is not fully released, whatever extra information that the game could provide to help us understand this is not there yet. Also, it's always important to keep in mind this post about "Context, persuasion, and manipulation" to be sure we are talking in the same terms. 

The lore

I'm going to enumerate some objects or elements related to Forgotten Realms lore that I personally see worth checking out in addition to other “orbs” that I've seen the fandom put attention on. All this information can be expanded using the references and sometimes wiki, even though I personally distrust forgotten realm wiki, unless I can check that info from the original sources.

Shadow Weave

The Shadow Weave is the space between the strands of the Weave. If the Weave is a spider's web, the gaps in between are the Shadow Weave. Shadow Weave reaches everywhere the Weave does, and more. It is not subject to Mystra’s laws or state of well being. If Mystra were to die and the Weave collapses, the Shadow Weave would persist. [Magic of Faerûn 3e. Personal Comment: Yes. It explicitly says in the book that it’s independent of Mystra’s well being. Clearly this has been modified in 4e since the Shadow Weave needs the structure of the Weave to be somehow stable. It collapsed when the Weave did so, so we can see this begins a series of inconsistencies]

Shadow Weave is a dark and distorted copy of the Weave created by Shar, more suited for spells that drag life or confuse the mind (necromancy, control, illusion schools), and gives more difficulty to cast spells that manipulate energy or matter (evocation or transmutation schools). It can't sustain spells that produce light. Both Weave and Shadow Weave are means to use Raw Magic (see at the end of the post). The more familiar a mortal becomes with the secrets of the Shadow Weave, the more detached they become from the Weave. Shadow Weave is NOT a part of Mystra, so Mystra can't block people from accessing magic via Shadow Weave. 

It’s a common mistake to make the analogy that the Shadow Weave is to Shar the same way the Weave is to Mystra. No. Shadow Weave is NOT Shar, while the Weave is Mystra. Shar never developed that level of commitment, making herself one with the Shadow Weave. This is one of the reasons why she could not sustain the Weave during the Spellplague when she tried to corrupt it completely into Shadow Weave. 

All this information belongs to Magic of Faerûn 3e and the Forgotten Realms Campaign Setting 3e and novels of 4e. There is nothing about Shadow Weave in 5e. If it weren't for Ed Greenwood's twitter, we should have guessed it disappeared from the lore. So far we know it's slowly recovering in the same way the Weave is. And the Shadow Weave doesn't feed on Weave. For some mysterious reason, fandom started to think so due to BG3.

Death moon orb

This artefact belongs to the 3rd edition, created by a Netheril wizard. From him, it passed to the hands of Szass Tam, who saw it destroyed when the Spellplague corrupted the magic in it. I won't give more details about this object because it looks so unrelated to what Gale has in his chest. Not only is its shape inconsistent with what we see in-game, its powers and properties are unrelated to what is explained in EA. The object is cursed, compelling its owner to cause greater acts of evil; it has a size that changes and looks like a violet-black sphere. In my opinion, the only detail in common with Gale's “orb” is the name "orb". Which is a fallacy, since Gale says explicitly that he uses the word "orb" for the lack of a better one, because clearly what Gale has in his chest is not an orb, but a mass of Black Weave. 

Netherese orbs

These objects are found in Neverwinter MMO in the quest Whisper in Darkness:

The Netherese are foul plague upon this world, corrupting everything they touch. They have cursed the Gray Wolf Tribe, turning them into bloodthirsty monsters. We must find what the Netherese intend to do with their werewolf slaves. The Shadovar Emissaries use the Netherese Orbs powered by Soul Shards to communicate orders from the Prince of Shadow.

This is all the information we have of this object. That's all. It comes from a Neverwinter MMO game which belongs to 4th edition. Once more, the concept that Gale's “orb” is not an orb but a black mass of untamed magic makes me believe that these objects don't apply either. The nature of their magic is compatible though: Netherese orbs are made from shadow magic by Shadovar, descendant of Netheril stuck in the Plane of Shadow (called Shadowfell later on, read more in the post of "The Netherese in 1492DR"). This plane is the source of Shadow Magic, they don't use Raw Magic. Ethel explicitly said in BG3 that Shadow Magic is Netherese Magic, so maybe we can consider this object filled with Netherese magic? In any case, these Netherese orbs are used for communication... which has nothing to do with Gale's “orb”'s properties. There is also no reference of consuming Weave to remain stable.

Devastation orb

The mention of a "devastation orb" happens only in Yartar in Princes of the Apocalypse (related to the god Tharizdun, the mad god): 

In page 5 we have some context: Four elemental cults grow in power in the Sumber Hills, claiming abandoned keeps that connect to an underground fortress once part of an ancient dwarven kingdom. The leaders use elemental magic to create devastation orbs capable of ravaging the countryside. They’ve been testing these magic weapons, bolstering the cults’ ranks, and infiltrating various communities, all directed by visions the prophets receive from the Elder Elemental Eye (Tharizdun). These orbs are plainly described as: essentially bombs of elemental energy to unleash natural disasters.

In page 222 we have a more detailed explanation of what these elements are: 

Devastation Orb: (Wondrous item, very rare) A devastation orb is an elemental bomb that can be created at the site of an elemental node by performing a ritual with an elemental weapon. The type of orb created depends on the node used. For example, an air node creates a devastation orb of air. A devastation orb measures 12 inches in diameter, weighs 10 pounds, and has a solid outer shell. The orb detonates 1d100 hours after its creation, releasing the elemental energy it contains. The orb gives no outward sign of how much time remains before it will detonate. Regardless of the type of orb, its effect is contained within a sphere with a 1 mile radius. The orb is the sphere’s point of origin. The orb is destroyed after one use.

Again, I don't see a real connection with Gale's “orb”. These devastation orbs are not netherese-based, they have elemental energy, and despite the explosion, they don't have any mechanics that resemble the consumption of Weave to remain stable. However, I do find a link between these devastation orbs, their process of construction, and the book that Gale found out. The remotest concept I can scratch here is that, whoever crafted the book with that piece of blackest Weave, could have used the knowledge of the construction of these devastation orbs. Instead of filling them with elemental magic, they filled it with a blackest weave of netherese magic. A procedure that could have been applied to the netherese tadpoles as well.

That's all the information I could gather that remotely is called “orb” or has some vague chance to be that blackest weave.

The Game BG3

In the game, all the info that Gale provides in EA about the “orb” is given before his revelation. The what it is, the how it works and the how it feels. In the revelation scene we only learn the details that are personal and intimate for Gale: the why he ended up with the orb, and potential solutions he can guess so far. To show proofs:

During the meeting:

Tav [Wisdom/tadpole] Try peering into his mind. If he won't open up, you'll sneak in.  [Success] Narrator: For a split second you see a swirl of untamed magic – then his defences drop like a portcullis. 

During the Protocol:

Tav: I simply want to know what it is you're keeping from me Gale: I'm dangerous. Not because I want to be, but because of... an error I made in the past.  [before Gale speaks of his loss] It makes me dangerous – even in death. [after Gale speaks of his loss/tadpole intrusion] I told you how I sought to win the favour of Mystra. I did this by trying to control a form of magic only one wizard ever could. I failed to control it. Instead it infested me. It makes me dangerous... even in death. […] Tav: The darkness inside you, what is it? Gale: It's magic from another time and another place. It is something that is beyond me, yet inside me. That makes me dangerous... even in death. 

During the stew scene or the ask for artefacts in neutral or lower approval

Tav: [Wisdom/tadpole] you sense secrecy and danger. Use your tadpole to probe Gale's thoughts. [Success] Narrator: you become one with Gale's mind and you can feel something sinister oppressing you. It's... inside of you, a mighty darkness radiating from your chest. You could try to push further, but your hold over Gale feels brittle. It won't be easy delving deeper without him noticing. Delve deeper: [Success] Narrator: “ you see through gale's eye, staring down the corridor of a dread memory. A book, bound, then suddenly opened. Inside there are no pages, only a swirling mass of blackest Weave that pounces. It's teeth, it's claws, it's unstoppable as it digs through you and becomes part of you. And gods, is it ever-hungry.

Gale: The only way to “appease” said condition is for me to take powerful magical artefact and absorb the Weave inside. [...]Tav: What happens if you don't consume any artefact? Gale: Catastrophe. [...] Think of it as... tribute. The kind a king might pay to a more powerful neighbour to avoid invasion. As long as I pay there will be peace. But should I ever stop, along comes a war. I can assure the battlefield would extend well beyond the borders of my body alone. [...] I will consume the magic inside. What was a powerful artefact will be rendered no more than a trinket. But it will save my life- even if only temporarily.

Tav: That condition of yours is a very expensive one. Gale: I obtained it in Waterdeep. Nothing there comes cheap.

Artefacts scenes:

Gale: I can feel the storm abating. [...] I will feel it stir again – like a distant thunder sending tremors through the soul. I will need to consume another artefact before the lightning strikes. There's no choice but to find more. [...] It's good to perceive this constant fear repressed into a quiet scare. Let's hope it will last a good long while.

During Revelation scene:

Gale: The gist of it is that he sought to usurp the goddess of magic so that he could become a god himself. He almost managed but not quite, and his entire empire – Netheril – came crashing down around him as he turned to stone. The magic unleashed that day was phenomenal, rolling like the prime chaos that outdates creation. A fragment of it was caught and sealed away in a book. No ordinary book, mind you; a tome of gateways that contained within it a bubble of Astral Plane. It was a fragment of primal Weave locked out of time – locked away from Mystra herself. ‘What if’, the silly wizard thought. ‘What if after all this time, I could return this lost part of herself to the Goddess?”

Narrator: You feel the tadpole quiver as you realise Gale is letting you in. Into the dark. You see through Gale’s eyes, staring down the corridors of a dread memory. A book, bound, then suddenly opened. Inside there are no pages, only a swirling mass of blackest Weave that pounces. It’s teeth, it’s claws, it’s unstoppable as it digs through you and becomes part of you. And gods, is it ever hungry… [...] This Netherese taint.. this orb, for lack of a better word, is balled up inside my chest. And it needs to be fed. As long as it absorbs Weave it remains stable – to an extent. The moment it becomes unstable, however.. [...] It will erupt. I don’t know the exact magnitude of the eruption, but given my studies of Netherese magic, I’d say even a fragment as small as the one I carry…. It’d level a city the size of Waterdeep

Tav : I should godsdamned kill you GALE: Perhaps that is what I deserve, but you deserve no such thing. To kill me is to unleash the orb. 

So far, if we don't use the tadpole, we learn from Gale that he is unwillingly dangerous, there is an ancient magic stuck in his chest—acquired in Waterdeep—that he never could control and it inspires a dreadful state of mind (constant fear). It requires Weave to stay stable, and if it is not fed, a catastrophe will happen that will extend past his body. 

With the Tadpole we learn, in addition, part of the details we can learn during the revelation scene: it's a swirl of untamed/chaotic magic which is an ever-hungry "blackest weave". 

During the Revelation Scene all the information acquired by the tadpole intrusion is given, in addition to describing this mass of magic as an "orb" despite its inaccuracy. We also learn that killing Gale will only unleash the orb instead of putting an end to the problem. 

Gale said everything that is important related to the orb before the party scene, excluding only the personal information since he is a private person. This was exactly the boundary he set when he promised during the stew scene that he was going to explain the what, not the why. With the use of the tadpole we only learn details, simple extra descriptions; all information that Gale will willingly share during the revelation scene anyway.

We can learn a bit more of the “orb”'s function if we explore the goblin party. There, Gale explains part of the mechanism of the “orb” in a "poetic" way, that may or may not be taken exactly as such:

Gale: Two shadows are darkening my soul.The shadow within and the shadow without: you. You led me down this path. [...] I don't know myself anymore. All this... It's not who I am. Around you, I'm not who I want to be. I should leave. 

Tav: [Insight] Stay. We make each other stronger. We make each other survive. /OR/ [Deception] You don't stand a chance alone. You're free to go. I dare you. 

[Success][DC15] Gale: [...]. Few things are more powerful than the will to live. But carnage such as this.... the shadow within is spreading like poison, corrupting kindness and compassion. [...]. Tonight I need to wash my hands of blood and my mind of shattering memories. 

This shows that when playing an Evil Tav who sides with the Goblins, we have an extra description for this “orb”. Again, I ponder every bit of information with its context: Gale is a poet, and he tends to speak with metaphors specially when it comes to emotional painful states of mind or when it comes to the “orb” (which puts him in a very emotional state that even the tadpole doesn't), so these lines can perfectly be understood as a poetic way to describe his deep regret for participating in massacring the Tieflings. However, there is this detail that I can't overlook: the shadow within, understood as the blackest Weave, is spreading across his body, corrupting his good essence. As we saw in the post of "Extensive list of Gale's approvals", compassion and kindness are key elements in Gale's personality. This scene shows a potential that is not explored in EA: the “orb” seems to set a path in which it will corrupt Gale. 

Now this could be considered as a potential beginning of a shift of alignment, but it goes against what Sven said several times in interviews and presentations: he stated that they were not considering to change alignments in the companions (if you can imagine all the extra branches that it opens up, it makes sense not to allow it given the already colossal proportions of the game), so it's hard to suspect how Gale would evolve from here, or if this situation will give him reasons to attempt to kill this Evil Tav eventually (which is my personal guess). Sven suggested many times that companions could potentially kill Tav or other companions during their sleep. We saw this happening in EA with Astarion. Using datamining content, we saw the same with Lae'Zel and Shadowheart. I don't see why not to give in-character reasons to make this mechanism work with Gale as well.

As an extra (datamining) detail, we have Ethel's vicious mockery line emphasising the concept of "the shadow within":

Ethel: I can smell what's under those bandages wizard, you're all rot and ruin.

Putting aside the unnerving detail that Gale's concept art has bandages on one of his hands while the game is oblivious to this, the idea of Gale's “orb” as a source of rot and ruin, in combination with that necrotic aura when he dies, gives us a sure idea that there is a “disease” spreading in Gale's body as a consequence of this blackest weave stuck in his chest.

All the in-game information was presented, so now let's drag conclusions: Comparing all the information extracted from the scenes, we can now consider how much potential has the lore object named before:

Shadow Weave: Could Gale's “orb” be a fragment of Shadow Weave?

Strengths of the argument: Gale's “orb” is described as "blackest weave". It could barely be a hint, even though the Shadow weave has no canon colour nor physical description in the corebooks. So this is a very weak strength.

Weaknesses of the argument: Shadow Weave doesn't feed on Weave (this is a fallacy so far I've checked. It would make no sense to feed on the same object that it needs to exist.) Shadow Weave doesn't explode nor is chaotic. 

Death moon orb:

Strengths: It's called an "orb". And it was made by a netherese arcanist, so it must contain “netherese magic”.

Weaknesses: This object was destroyed during the Spellplague. It's a physical orb which changes size, but it's not an "amorphous mass" of magic. It doesn't consume Weave.

Netherese Orb:

Strengths: It's called an "orb". It's made of shadow magic (which is not netherse magic in corebooks but in game Ethel used both denominations as synonymous). We know Shadovar are masters of Shadow Magic. Read more in the post "The Netherese in 1492DR".

Weaknesses: This object doesn't appear in the corebooks. It's used for communication. It doesn't seem to have any explosive properties nor consumes Weave.

Devastation orb:

Strengths: It's called an "orb". They explode with the intensity to destroy a city. 

Weaknesses: It's made of elemental magic (not netherese magic). It's a solid object, a bomb (not an amorphous mass). It doesn't consume weave.

Personal speculation

I don't think any of these canon objects are or inspired Gale's “orb”. If we take the descriptions in-game as they are, and considering the importance that Karsus and his folly have been given in the whole game (to the point that Larian added ingame books explaining part of it) I support two hypothesis that, by now, they must be obvious for lorists since I want to work with what the game (and datamining) gives me: 

1- The concept that this is a piece of corrupted Weave that Karsus' Avatar allowed to have access to when he disrupted the Weave. Gale calls it “primal weave” as well, which is a concept that doesn't exist so far in the corebooks, and one could relate, very barely, with raw magic. Maybe.

2- Heavy magic (key concept during 2e)

To understand this we need MORE lore (I know, this has no end; this is why I think a lot of misunderstandings with Gale’s character come from the big holes of lore that EA leaves, which is obvious, it's EA) So, allow me to clear out the concepts: 

Karsus' Avatar is the name of the spell that caused Karsus' folly and made him a god for just an ephemeral moment. The notes regarding the spell’s essence were nowhere to be found. It’s believed that Mystra, the reincarnated form of Mystryl, snatched the spell information from the ruins of Karsus’s enclave and sent it “on an eternal journey to the ends of the universe” (who knows what this means). Besides, as if this were not enough precaution, Mystra changed the rules of magic on the material plane making it impossible to cast spells over 10th level. Karsus' Avatar was a 12th level spell.

Raw Magic is “the stuff of creation, the mute and mindless will of existence, permeating every bit of matter and present in every manifestation of energy throughout the multiverse. Mortals can't directly shape this raw magic. Instead, they make use of a fabric of magic, a kind of interface between the will of a spellcaster and the stuff of raw magic. The spellcasters of the Forgotten Realms call it the Weave and recognize its essence as the goddess Mystra.” [Player's Handbook 5e]

The creation of the Weave allowed all mortals to have access to magic through study. The Weave works like a barrier and an interpreter to use the real source of magic: Raw Magic. For more information on this, check the wiki (otherwise each of these posts will be mini books of lore). Few mortals can tap magic from the raw magic. Spells like silver fire are part of the raw magic. Some wild mages can tap into it as well, but at the cost of making their spells very random. Only Weave-disruptive events can allow an uncontrolled influx of raw magic into the world (which can be considered what happened during Karsus' folly)

Mythalars are immense artefacts that work like intermediates of the Raw Magic. They don't use the Weave, they have direct access to Raw Magic and were used to power up magical artefacts around them (thanks to these objects the Netheril cities floated in the air). Touching a mythalar causes instant death since Raw magic is harmful for most mortals.

So the first hypothesis (corrupted Weave) means that when Karsus cast this spell and became the Weave itself for a brief moment, he may have access to Raw magic directly. His spell Karsus' avatar started using common Weave, but in the second he connected deeply with the Weave and with Mystryl's powers, he had access to Raw magic as a god. His spell may have changed the source of its power from the Weave to Raw Magic, adding the latter's randomness and chaos to the spell itself and therefore, corrupting the Weave. The transition, so violent like the whole event, may have corrupted part of the Weave that was being used while casting the spell. According to Gale's description, the “orb” stuck in his chest is a piece of Weave with the active effect of Karsus' Avatar (the spell), but the Narrator gives us the extra information that it's corrupted. Apparently Gale never realised this object was corrupted, or may have known it and he tried to cleanse it so he could return it to Mystra. Either way, the source of the corruption may have been the sudden transition to Raw Magic during the casting. My main problem with this hypothesis is how a spell can be stuck in a piece of Weave, since Gale's “orb” maintains Karsus's avatar's effect. 

On one hand, Karsus' Avatar main effect is “to absorb god-like powers”. In that moment of history, this spell was aimed at Mystryl, and therefore to the Weave. The disruption of the event “stuck” the effect of “absorbing weave” in a piece of Weave, while the chaotic nature of this “orb” could be attributed to the direct presence of Raw Magic, also stuck in it. Now, another weakness of this hypothesis is that nothing of this causes a "corruption disease" as Gale implies it (we only know that the failure of the spell turned Karsus into stone). So we don't have a good argument for this effect beyond the one “I believe that since the moment was disruptive, it must have corrupted something, and that corruption is quite unhealthy in a mortal body”. Which it's not of my liking, but this is what we get up to this point in EA.

The second hypothesis I talked about is another lore concept intimately related to Karsus in 2e: Heavy Magic (which I personally prefer over the first hypothesis). 

Heavy magic is physical, tangible magic, usually presented as a viscous mass of chaotic nature. It can crawl, entering into cracks of a wall or a body, for example. Karsus created a distilled version of this magic called super heavy magic, and experimented with people. The subject eating a bit of this magic will have heavy magic spread on all the inner walls of their body and will kill them (it's not a disease, but it spreads inside and kills). The usual effect of the stable super heavy magic was to magnify the powers of a spell or enchantment (it allowed spells to be stuck in it), however it could be used for everything. 

Karsus used this element to enhance enchantments on walls, for example projecting illusions endlessly. This means that this product has the ability of keeping a spell functioning in it (as we see that this black weave keeps the function of the Karsus' avatar). [Dangerous Games, 2e]

Naturally, heavy magic absorbs life energies (maybe another characteristic fitting the concept of disease and necrotic effects). There is an event (2e) related to this aspect in which the renegade arcanist Wulgreth became a lich after heavy magic overflew him [Power and Pantheons, 2e]

As it is easy to see, this concept shares a lot of similarities with the object stuck in Gale's chest. But there is still more:

In the novel Dangerous Games (2e), strongly focused on how Karsus experimented with Heavy Magic, it is explicitly said that Karsus infused himself with super heavy magic before casting Karsus' avatar (probably to magnify the spell power but we also know that heavy magic can get spells stuck in it). He grew taller, and glowed in a white-silver radiance. Babbling arcane chants, the super heavy magic raged within him until he came into a state of being between a man and deity. Then it followed his folly. Karsus “died”, turning his body into red-hued stone, bound in eternal torment to relieve repeatedly the moment he became aware of his folly. 

So there exists a chance that a pieces of super heavy magic (in which Karsus was infused when all this happened) may have kept Karsus' Avatar effect stuck in them. One of these pieces could have been recovered later around the red stone where Karsus is now. This could potentially be the object or, at least, in what it had inspired Gale's “orb”. It's also worth noticing that one of the main characters in this novel Dangerous Games was looking for ways to safely contain heavy magic and avoid its damaging effect, so there is extra lore information about vessels that could justify the sealed book that Gale found in Waterdeep. 

As an extra detail on this matter, we know that the runes of teleportation may have been made with heavy magic: "Gale: See that rune? Netherese, I think. Weave's so thick on it, it's almost viscous." 

Since Gale is calling "Weave" to the element attached to the teleport runes, it makes me wonder if this was a slight variation that Larian made of the canon concept of Heavy Magic to not add new concepts to the already complex world of Forgotten Realms. Maybe, in the end, both hypotheses are the same: the second one is strictly more canon-related than the first one, which is more or less the same but simplified in terms and concepts. 

As a last conclusion from my personal point of view, I see no much sense in calling this thing “orb”. In game it's clearly described as an amorphous black mass, not an orb. And it made me remember Gale's original description, when the EA was not released yet: it's the only way where I can see its nonsensical origin, which was done in a completely different context. 

Gale has one ambition: to become the greatest wizard Faerûn has ever known. Yet his thirst for magic led to disaster. A Netherese Destruction Orb beats in his chest, counting down to an explosion that can level a city. Gale is confident he'll overcome it, but time is not on his side.

After the game was released in EA, Gale's description changed radically, and therefore his current description has a different approach entirely, removing the concept of "orb" for what we know in the game: “ancient chaotic magic”. 

Wizard prodigy: Gale is a wizard prodigy whose love for a goddess made him attempt a dread feat no mortal should. Blighted by the forbidden magic of ancient Netheril, Gale strives to undo the corruption that is overtaking him and win back his goddess’ favour before he becomes a destroyer of worlds.

This is one of the many details that make me believe that Gale's original concept/character was changed significantly before the EA release. But this is a mere personal speculation. For more details on netherese magic, read the post of "The Netherese in 1492DR".

Source: 

2nd edition: Powers and Pantheons, Netheril: Empire of Magic, Dangerous Games by Emery Clayton. 3rd Edition: Faith and Pantheon, Magic of Faerûn 4th edition Player's Handbook 5th edition: Player's Handbook, Sword Coast Adventurer's Guide

This post was written in May 2021. → For more Gale: Analysis Series Index

[evangeline-of-montfort]

ash garden (ii)

chapter 1 read it here on ao3

The words leave me in a jumble, trying to push from my mouth before the enemy arrives. Trying to call for aid before I am utterly trapped. “Elane, there’s an active raid. I’m in trouble: Sector E-1. Please– ”

The ground itself shakes with the force of drumming hooves as figures burst from the treeline, surrounding me in seconds. I don’t get much further before a gust of wind rips the wireless broadcaster from my fingers and sends it flying over the ledge behind me. Windweaver. 

Now I’m well and truly on my own. I pray that the raiders hadn’t interfered with the second broadcaster, that Elane heard me and sent aid. 

If not, I could die here. 

I count a dozen other raiders, each sitting astride a wall of shaggy fur and horns.  Bison. From experience, I know that they can sustain over a dozen bullets before going down. The animals’ eyes are flat and glassy, a sure sign they’re under the control of a Silver animos. 

Fuck. 

“You weren’t broadcasting for aid, I hope?” the lead raider asks coolly. Her nose and mouth are covered with a black bandana; above it, her eyes are hard and unforgiving. I reach out with my ability, scanning her up and down. She carries two pistols with eight rounds each, bright copper and heavy tungsten; her belt buckle is silver. 

I weigh my options, wondering how many enemies I could cut down before the bison trample me into the earth. The odds are not good, so I start talking. “No help is coming for me, I’m afraid. I seem to have been cut off from my unit.” 

The raider shrugs. “I apologize—we may have interfered slightly with your broadcasting capabilities. It wouldn’t have been ideal for newblood freaks to rush us from all sides as soon as we got close to you.”

As soon as we got close to you. Any lingering hope I had of this being a random attack vanishes. They targeted me specifically, but why? 

I choose my next words carefully. The voice I use belongs to a lost princess from a lost court, but it serves me well here. “Why waste thirteen seasoned raiders on one patrol officer? You must think quite highly of me. Either that, or you aren’t sure of your own abilities in the slightest.”

As I talk, I study the raiders, trying to pick out the details that might save my life. Why are they here? Who are they? 

Each of them wears a black bandana covering their noses and mouths. Their eyes are all hard and cold, veined with gray. Their clothes seem relatively new, a far cry from the mismatched rags that raiders usually wear. I spot an emblem of some sort—a shield emblazoned with a silver stripe—and it looks disgustingly familiar. 

My stomach drops as I realize what it is. 

The Nortan Silver Secession is here.

One of the raiders slides off her mount, moving with a liquid, easy grace.  Silk. “Why waste thirteen raiders on one person? Well, that would be very simple,” she says, talking like she would to a child. “We do indeed think a great deal of you, Your Majesty.” 

She stops before me and sinks to one knee. It feels like a mockery, and it may very well be. “Lady Evangeline Samos. Daughter of Royal House Samos and House Viper. Betrothed of not one but two Calore kings. Former Queen of the Rift.”

My legs go weak at her words. They call me back to an old life, titles won in a country that no longer exists. What game are the Secessionists playing now? “I am no longer any of those things,” I manage. “What do you want with me?” 

The silk tuts as she rises and approaches me, swaying almost hypnotically in my vision. Something in her face reminds me of Sonya and her family. They’re probably related, after all. “I am no longer any of those things,” she mocks. “I see our poor queen has been brainwashed by the Montfort bastards. I hear you have renounced all titles and family ties, my dear. That you walk as equals with Red rats in the streets. That you take a girl to your bed each night—”

“Enough!” I snap, sounding braver than I feel. Her words struck deep, an unwelcome reminder that I am the antithesis of all I was born to be. “Cut the bullshit. What do you want?” 

She is unperturbed. “Why, we want to restore you to your throne, Your Majesty. To crown you queen of all of Norta. Second to no other. And, if you so wish—” She leers, and I can see the disdain in her eyes—��the Lady Haven shall be named your princess consort.”

Her words release an old yearning inside me, a longing for power and for freedom. It tears through my insides before I can control it, and the greed has to show on my face.

“That’s it, little magnetron,” the silk coos. “You need not resist. Blood need not be shed. And before the week is out, you will have a throne and a crown.”

She is offering me what I was raised to want. I was  born to be the queen of Norta. Such a deep-seated desire does not simply disappear. I feel my old ambitions surge to life, a roaring tide inside my head. 

But I know now that what the silk offers is not true. To wear a crown is to lose your freedom of choice. Power given can be just as easily taken away.

And here in Montfort, with its too-close sky and sheer granite cliffs, roaring whitewater falls and dark green pines, I have everything I want. Ptolemus and Wren are here. I am free to love Elane, to marry her, and to grow old and die with her. I do not need a throne. 

What I need is to get out of here alive. I need to stall for more time and hope that backup is on its way.

“A crown and a country,” I say slowly. Every word is an extra second I’m alive. My mind searches frantically for an escape route and comes up empty. Please, Elane. I need you. “Now, that’s a hard offer to beat, Lady…” 

“Tana Iral, Your Majesty.” So she is related to Sonya, maybe a cousin or aunt. Her eyes gleam with barely-suppressed excitement, watching me as a cat watches its prey. As my mother’s wolves used to watch me. 

I briefly wonder what will become of me if they have their way. They could make me their puppet, controlled in every action by a Merandus whisper. The thought terrifies me like no other. 

Keep talking. It’s all I can do. 

“But… enlighten me,” I continue, forcing the fear away. “There is already a stable government in place in Norta. Democracy. Equality of blood. You speak of a waiting crown, but I see no throne.”

Tana laughs, showing even white teeth. “ Yet, Your Majesty. A government led by Reds and their allies is no government at all. They cannot hope to stand against us for long.”

My stomach twists even tighter. “You propose civil war.”

“A restoration of the throne to its rightful owner.” 

“Countless lives will be lost,” I say slowly. “Silver lives. Valuable blood.” I try to fall into my expected role: a blood supremacist, a Silver lady. It isn’t difficult—after all, it’s who I used to be. 

Another one of the raiders shifts impatiently. “Those Silvers forfeited their lives when they betrayed their people. We have no qualms about clearing them out of the way. Will you, Your Majesty?” His words carry a thinly veiled threat. 

They’re getting tired of stalling. My time is almost up.

I don’t know what I would’ve done if left to my own devices, but suddenly, several things happen all at once. 

Tires screech on asphalt as a cycle roars down the Hawkway. Someone dismounts and runs towards me, and a glowing blue shield erupts across my vision. My heart jumps in my chest. Davidson. Elane came through.

I scan the Hawkway for more reinforcements, but there are none. The premier’s the only person I’ve got, but I can’t think of anyone I’d rather have here except Tolly.  

The raiders overcome their surprise and attack. I feel exactly six guns fire at once, and without blinking, I stop the bullets in midair and throw them back. Two of them cut through flesh, and the rest go sailing into the woods, missing the raiders entirely. I grit my teeth—I’m out of practice. 

A gale-force wind picks up. I stagger and lose my balance, and it throws me to the ground. My ribs slam into the dirt, knocking the wind from my chest. 

The air itself turns into a vacuum, sucking the breath from my lungs as I scrabble uselessly for purchase. I try to shout as I’m flung towards the edge of the cliff, but my own breath chokes me, forcing the sound back down my throat. Stars swim across my vision, bright spots of color that almost hurt my eyes. 

The windstorm is cut off as suddenly as it began. The sounds and sensations of battle abruptly disappear as a dome materializes around me and the premier, blue as a robin’s egg and nearly an inch thick on all sides. 

Still on the ground, I cough and gasp for air, stunned by both the impact and the sudden silence. My heartbeat pounds in my ears, and every breath is unnaturally loud.

“Can you stand?” Davidson bends over me, his eyes alight with concern.

I grasp his offered hand and gingerly pull myself up. Nothing seems broken—I can already feel the bruises spreading, but I’ve definitely had a lot worse. “Thanks for the save. You’ve clearly been practicing.” 

He smiles at that. “Even old dogs can learn new tricks.” 

I suddenly lose my balance again, catching myself on his arm. At first, I think my brain hasn’t reoriented itself properly, but then I realize it isn’t me. 

The ground is trembling again. 

I look up in time to see the bison charging us, a moving wall of pure muscle. A mountain of shaggy fur slams into the shield, inches from my face, with enough force to knock down a small house. The dome shakes under the impact. Despite myself, I flinch back, nearly colliding with Davidson. 

An awful crunch filters through the muffling effects of the shield. One of the animals collapses sideways, its neck bent at the wrong angle. The others begin to sway uncertainly, stamping at the ground, but their eyes go flat as the animos reasserts control. They shake their heads, stunned, and charge us again. 

The dome flickers, growing weaker with each impact, each passing second. It’s incredibly disorienting, like the entire world is underwater, distorted. Everything is blurry except for Davidson at my side. The ground shakes, my vision flashes blue, and the drumming of hooves rumbles in my ears like thunder. I want to curl into a ball on the ground and put my head between my knees until it’s over. 

Instead, I put a hand on Davidson’s shoulder. It trembles with strain, nearly in time with the flickering shield. “Don’t give out on me,” I say, trying to bolster us both. “I’d like to get out of this alive.” 

His eyes meet mine for the briefest second, the only acknowledgement he can manage. I can’t begin to fathom the amount of willpower it takes to maintain that dome. He doesn’t look it, but the premier might be the strongest Ardent I’ve ever met—and I’ve fought the lightning girl. 

My legs brace automatically as another charge begins. I can feel the vibrations in the iron soles of my boots, like standing on top of a rattling transport. Next to me, Davidson grits his teeth. His stare is so intense I can feel it, even though it’s not leveled at me. 

“How much longer can you last?” I ask, and my voice echoes around the tiny space.

He only shakes his head, the smallest of movements. We don’t have long at all.

The Nortans prowl around the edges of our bubble. They don’t waste energy attacking—they don’t have to. All they have to do is wait for Davidson to give out, and they’ll have us outnumbered eleven to two.

Who has the advantage? Lord Arven’s voice echoes bitterly through my brain. That question has an easy answer. 

The hard part is neutralizing the advantage. 

“We have to kill the animos,” I realize suddenly. 

Briefly, I wonder if their animos is family. One of my mother’s Viper cousins, here to drag me back to Norta at long last. I can only think of a few nobles who could control half a herd of bison for this long.  “Which one of them do you think–”

Even with the bandana, even through the uncertain light cast by the dome, her face is familiar. We have the same eyes, after all—Viper eyes—but hers are brown to my gray.  There’s no mistaking it.  

“Atara,” I whisper. 

In another life, we were friends and allies—cousins—at court. She helped organize my birthday gala when we were fifteen. I cheered her Queenstrial, even though I knew she didn’t stand a chance. She was my mother’s favorite niece. 

Davidson seems to realize. “I’m… sorry,” he says. “If—if there were another way…” 

The strain in his voice surprises me—the premier isn’t one to display exhaustion. We’re out of time. This isn’t the place for doubt, or morals.

“There isn’t,” I say flatly. “She’s chosen her side. I’ve chosen mine. Drop the shield on ten.” 

The premier nods, unable to manage words. A sheen of sweat coats his brow. I slide a steel ring off my right hand, forming it into a bullet with a burst of willpower. 

The blue shield disappears. Sound and color rush back to the world, but I barely notice. My vision tunnels until all I see is Atara’s black-clad figure. I take a deep breath and let the projectile fly, and like an extension of my own arm, I feel its trajectory across the clearing. I feel the miniature crosswinds as it slices through the air. 

I feel it puncture fabric, flesh, and bone, in that order.

Atara crumples to the ground.

I’m sorry. 

[georgecrecy]

Living Fossils {1}

Dust sprayed and crackled against the various windows of the shuttle's cabin as it touched down, the thrusters adding little to the dust already swirling from the storm. Within a few moments the shuttle finished the landing process with a slight jostle, and the occupants made their way to the airlock and into their atmospheric suits. The air of this planet wasn't compatible with their lungs, so the suits would come in handy for more than just the particles of sand and small rocks that were assaulting and scraping microscopic gouges into the hull.

As the six lithe figures stepped into the bulky suits, the oldest addressed the others in the airlock antechamber. "Nothing like another outing for our scientific enumeration! Given what I could see of our surroundings, it is a small miracle there is anything left." Another slipped her shoulder into her suit as she rolled her eyes. "Yeah, that's nice and all Doc, but my only surprise will be if I don't die of boredom on this heap of sand." The scientist eyed her with an upraised brow, seeing her clip a gun to it's holster on her side as another, larger carbine hung in the cabinet behind. "I suppose that is why Allnex paid you to join these sorts of expeditions: to spare you from such a terrible end otherwise. And these sorts of finds aren't all that boring, I should hope."

The second mercenary of the group finished putting on his own suit as he quipped, "Oh yeah, nothing gets the blood pumping like another broken vase or some sorta proto-battery. You guys get excited over the smallest things."

Another of the younger females in the group, one of the four wearing a white suit to the two green ones, looked at the male mercenary and said, "That's better than getting all excited for nothing over some Jurgthen, Kenta."

Kenta smiled knowingly, "Murien's only saying that cause her team lost last night and now she owes me."

She blushed a little as she quickly shut her locker, the orange of her team's poster hanging from the inside of the door perhaps being given away. She still turned back to Kenta and shrugged. "Yeah, yeah, I'll pay you after we're back up top."

The doctor cleared his throat as he set the helmet down over his head, "Yes, well, let's get to that, shall we? Mic check please, everyone." A chorus of clicks and beeps sounded through all the helmets, all nodding in acknowledgement. "Excellent. Now, if you take a look at your maps, our target is to our west a few hundred clacks, so it won't be long to get there." As he spoke, the group punched the appropriate button on their wrist consoles to bring up the green light of the hologram. A large green dot was in the center of the map, while a smaller blue triangle represented their position.

One raised their hand, to which the doctor nodded, "Yes, Saffer?" 

Not comfortable with the others' eyes on him, he wriggled on his seat in apprehension. "The structure, Doctor Ghan, do we know what it's for or how it lasted all this time? What the beings were like that built it?"

The doctor shook his head. "I'm afraid I don't, but the evidence points to some intelligence in whatever used to live here. What surface scans we could manage through the storms showed signs of oceans and rivers at one point, which led us to seeing the grid-shaped patterns of many cities. We are here to see how advanced they became and if anything might be worth bringing back for Allnex. Our point of interest is a large collection of metals, perhaps a structure. I know this will be your first bit of field work, but I'm sure there will be plenty to discover." His eyes drifted to the two mercenaries that had clearly started a card game on top of their wrist map holograms. "Broken pottery or otherwise."

The six figures eventually emerged from the vehicle, and after a final reference of their wrist computers, they began to trek through the obscuring storm in a line, the two mercenaries flanking close on either side. Along the way they spotted jagged, unnatural remains of walls, and even the bent remains of metallic signs, long since rusted over to tell what they said or were intended for. They stopped briefly at several spots like these, but were not able to glean much. It didn't help their understanding when as soon as they might spot glimpses of these formations and signs of previous civilization, it was just as soon lost again in the red-tinted maelstrom.

After over an hour, the group spotted their target: a huge, multistory building which stood defiantly against the failing world around it. Sand and rock draped itself in piles and drifts around the large base, while they could see that sections of the walls had crumbled or caved in, exposing some of the upper floors to the elements. "It is a building alright, so the civilization had gotten to at least advanced metallurgy." Doctor Ghan exclaimed to everyone through their helmets. "What do you think, Codru?" The other male student nodded, "Definitely, but to have lasted for several centuries as you estimate since the planet-wide death event is especially impressive. I think Allnex will be very happy with just a sample of the siding for study of its properties, let alone anything inside." 

Hyupi the female mercenary looked around it exasperatedly and said, "Yeah, and speaking of which, how do we get inside, big-shots? Any of the scans reveal a nice door for us?" After a brief but fruitless look around the building as the gale howled around them, the group was about ready to call defeat. They were in the midst of climbing one of the drifts around the base when Saffer suddenly cried out in surprise. The two mercenaries spun in place with their carbines at the ready, but Saffer stood up with embarrassment clearly on his face through the glass of his helmet. "Sorry everyone, I tripped on a rock or something."

Murien was behind him, and was pointing at Saffer's feet. "Or something is right, look! It's the corner of something metal!"

The group converged excitedly on the two, as Murien and Saffer dug with their hands into the drift, exposing a little more of a wall and roof. The doctor's face bore a gratified smile. "Thank goodness for a bit of clumsiness, Saffer! This might be our way in. Quick, get out the shovels!" 

Taking out small folding shovels from their backpacks, they began to take turns excavating the sand and dirt away from the outcropping, and even the mercenaries showed some enthusiasm of discovery as they took part in the digging, though the environmentals in the suits could do little to negate the sweat from both their exertions and the sweltering heat.

After a short while, a door was revealed for their efforts, the senior student Codru was even able to discover a pad to the left of the door. As he brushed the last dirt away with his hand, through the dusty screen he could see it pulse with light, the screen showing unrecognizable symbols. Over the comms channel his surprise was immediately evident. "Uh, Doctor Ghan? You might want to look at this."

From over his right shoulder, Ghan could just see the pad. "Ah, they had some computer technology as well? Interesting."

Codru shook his head, "No sir. Look, it still has power!"

Ghan was at his side as fast as his bulky suit would allow, while the others all gathered behind him. Looking at the pad which still shone visibly through the crust of dirt and dust which coated the face of it, the doctor was amazed. "That means we are at least dealing with a nascent Type A civilization! There must be a fusion or even antimatter energy source inside the building! Oh, well done everyone! Well done indeed!"

Hyupi left the gathering and sat to one side against the side of the little valley they had dug out, her hand leaning her carbine against her body. "Well, sounds great doc, but what's a Type A?"

Saffer was practically giddy with excitement as he explained, "With any civilization there are metrics to understand it's progress. Type A is part of one scale of measurement we commonly use. It describes a civilization that is using all the possible energy of its planet. Type B, which we more closely relate to, use all the energy of their solar system, and so on."

Doctor Ghan was already busy taking pictures of the screen as he interjected, saying, "Yes, but there are a lot of ways for things to go wrong; lots of checks to get past. Most don't get near this far. Disease, war, climate upheaval, all can end things prematurely, as likely happened here."

Kenta looked at his wrist pad readouts as he said, "I'm sorry to cut things short, but we need to get back to the shuttle, we don't have much time left on our respirators to stick around. Pack it up everyone. I don't know about any of you but a shower seems like a real treat right now."

As the rest packed up and reformed to move out, Saffer was the last in line, reluctantly packing his backpack with his supplies and shovel. His body thrummed with excitement at the possibilities which seemed to tantalize him from inside the vault-like structure. Here was everything that made him want to be a xeno-archaeologist in a neat, metallic package. As he slipped one of the straps of his pack over the shoulder of his suit and turned to join the group, he thought he saw a flicker of movement from the pad out of the corner of his eye. He stared at the screen, but it still showed the same set of symbols as before. He jumped as his comms crackled with Kenta's voice. "Hey kid, come on! Move it."

He shook his head. "Sorry, coming!" It was just his imagination and excitement overcoming his senses. His mother always warned him about his excitable personality. He stamped up the side of their valley as sand cascaded down in his wake, and rejoined the others as they trekked back to the shuttle.

The wind whipped past as reddish dirt danced in convoluted twists through the air. The pad next to the door flickered, and instead of the previous symbols an alien face appeared, looking at the retreating back of the young student as he tramped up the side of the dug valley and disappeared over the top. A smile creeped over the alien face before the screen blinked, returning to black as dust once more accumulated over it.

[rebellect-writes]

[SIZE=1][b]Name:[/b] Jess. [b]Age:[/b] 21. [b]How did you find us?:[/b] I've had this track on repeat for a long time.

[align=center][IMG]http://i672.photobucket.com/albums/vv90/bloodwillout/thevampirediariess01e11n.gif[/IMG][/align]

[b]Name:[/b] Chase Stirling. Real name's unknown. [b]Nicknames & Aliases:[/b][LIST] [*] Chase. [*] Stirling. [*] Damn, you psychotic bastard. [/LIST][b]Age:[/b] True age, well...about 2630 years old. He's hitting '33' this December though. [b]Date of Birth:[/b] His licenses say December 8, 1978. [b]Gender:[/b] Male. [b]Sexual Orientation:[/b] Pansexual. [b]Availability:[/b] Complicated; Polygamous. [b]Occupation:[/b] Owns and runs the Silver Syn, bit a jack of all trades though.

[b]Species:[/b] Pure black dragon. [b]Element:[/b] Air. [b]Powers:[/b][LIST][i]Primary powers[/i] [b]Dreamscaping:[/b] Chase can produce a dream like ‘environment’ that feels so real to the dreamer that they would never know that they were dreaming. Touch, taste, smell, next to all the senses can be fooled into believing that the dreamscape is actually real, and not something made up. He can craft so fine a dream that he could move through a series of ‘visions’ – for example, from a city park to a beach, to a mountain top – and no one would really notice the difference unless he wanted them to or they were beginning to wake up.

Just because he has powers over dreams, it doesn’t mean he can’t be trapped into a dream by outside forces himself. Sometime he creates the dream scape from scratch, sometimes he’d rather just work with the dream the user is already having and ‘tweak’ it here and there. Sometimes he can take another being into a dreamscape with him, though they have to be pretty close and main contact with him otherwise they'd 'fall out' of the dream and back into reality, taking another person with him into a dreamscape of a third party can leave him sore bone deep, it's why he preferes to go one-on-one, at least he'd have more control over what happened. He's also got to be be caution about dipping into the dreams of the supernatural because there's no telling what could really happen.

While that’s all fine and dandy, he can also manipulate the dreamer into a nightmare scenario where he can torture the dream ‘body’ with all kinds of terrors particular to that person and it won’t affect the physical body. Yet sometimes he can push the power so the physical body believes it’s wounded and reacts in such a way, so if he kills someone in the dream then they’d die in real life because their body would ‘overload’. Doing something like that would and has left him in a catatonic like state for up to a week if it’s a particular long nightmare setting.

[b]Dream suggestions:[/b] In a dream that he hasn’t crafted, Chase can leave a suggestion without next to any trouble. Of course the dreamer can’t be aware of his presence otherwise the suggestion won’t take hold and he’d be left with nothing but a splitting migraine for his troubles. The stronger the suggestion, the more it takes it out of Chase and it can leave him weak for days, and sometimes unconscious. It’s a useful power if he wants to con someone into telling him a long forgotten secret or something similar; it just takes time and patience to peel it away from within the layers of subconscious of safeguarding.

[i]Secondary powers[/i] [b]Air control:[/b] Chase can control the very air you breathe if he wants. Some dragons have the ability to create a flame from nothing or to manipulate flesh and the earth to their whim; he gets to play with the air. Since it’s a secondary power, it’s not something Chase plays around with often but if pushed he can thin the air around people making it harder to breathe or remove it completely. He can even reverse this particular nasty trick so the air expands inside the body forcing the internal system to work over time. This is often used as a quick and crude method of dispatching someone that annoys him, as he can force the internal organs to rupture and burst completely in some cases. It takes extream concentration to do this.

[b]Wind control:[/b] On a whim, Chase can cause a stilted breeze turn into a draft and a draft into a gust and so on until it’s blowing a gale and its best to stay indoors. It doesn’t take that much out of him to do this, but continued use makes him cranky and more inclined to eat people. He could in theory make things worse with this power but he’s never tried. [/LIST][b]Description: [/b] [LIST][URL=http://fc05.deviantart.net/fs44/f/2009/098/d/9/Black_Dragon_by_BenWootten.jpg]He makes a pretty dragon.[/URL] In his dragon form, Chase is a big, black, horned and scaled lizard. Well, alright if you want a little more information than that, here goes. From snout to tail, he’s a whooping twenty-nine feet in length and twenty-one feet standing at the shoulders. His wingspan is roughly thirty foot from tip to tip. Now, his weight is a bit more trickier to get a solid read on, since dragons don’t have any body fat in their natural form, Chase weighs in roughly at four tonnes. [/LIST][b]Hybrid Form:[/b] [LIST][URL=http://images.elfwood.com/art/n/a/nadiasultan/black_dragon.jpg]Here we go.[/URL] He’s a just a little 7 foot tall, and weighs in at around about 500lbs of black scaled muscle with haunting silver blue eyes. [/LIST][b]Status:[/b] Lone black. [b]Mindset:[/b] Dominant. Can be both. [b]Power level:[/b] "Alpha".

[b]Face Claim:[/b] Ian Somerhalder [b]Description:[/b] [IMG]http://i672.photobucket.com/albums/vv90/bloodwillout/app%20pics/936full-ian-somerhalder.png[/IMG][LIST]Standing at 5’10 tall, Chase isn’t the tallest of people around and does he care? No. For his size, he’s built pretty averagely, weighing in at 161lbs. Of course there’s mussels in all the right places and not much in the way of puppy fat on him, so that works in his favour. He’s a blue eyed wondered too, with startling baby blue eyes and mussed up dark brown hair, it’s a wonder to some, how he hasn’t ended up scared. Clean shaven? On occasion, yeah. Chase likes to keep himself semi presentable but that doesn’t stop him from leaving the five o’clock shadow or looking like he’s just crawled out of bed some days.  

Now believe it or not, Chase does like the odd splash of colour in his wardrobe so it’s not all blacks, greys or blues. Hell, it isn’t all leather and jeans either; there are a couple of suits tucked away in there somewhere. Probably still in protective wrapping, but the idea still counts. He can pull a suit off, just like he can pull off the grungy broody bad boy look off, it’s all a matter of what mood he’s in when he throws open those wardrobe doors in the morning. Accessories and jewellery isn’t always a thing he flies with, he has a few rings that he wears on occasion and a necklace but that’s about it.

As for his visible marks, yes, he has a few. We’ll start with the easiest stuff, both his nipples are pierced and he does have his genitals pieced – A prince Albert if you really must know – as well. He’s thought about getting something new done, but he’s leaving that alone for the moment. He does have a [URL=http://fc02.deviantart.net/fs19/f/2007/288/0/5/Dragon_tattoo_by_Tatsu87.jpg]tattoo[/URL], and ironically enough it’s of a tribal dragon on his right hip. Depending on what he wears, you can sometime see it peeking out over the waistband of his pants. On the inside of his left arm, he’s got another [URL=http://i692.photobucket.com/albums/vv285/weena07/tattoo2.jpg]tattoo[/URL] that translates to “here and now” in Latin. As for scars, yeah, he's got some. Since they don't bother him, they aren't that important in his eyes or they're hardly noticable. [/LIST][b]Special Skills:[/b][LIST] [*] He knows how to use and work with blades, never got around to guns which isn't a shame. [*] Studied different torture techniques since the Dark Ages but he prefers to mix things up. [*] He knows a few forgotten dialects but can speak fluent Latin and Persian, also knows Italian, German, French, Russian and Haitian Creole. [*] He can cook; he just doesn’t do it because he has next to no one to cook for most of the time. [/LIST][b]Personality:[/b][LIST]Chase is, for a lack of a better word, a psychotic dick.

He’s stubborn and likes to do things his own way or no way at all, and he’s impulsive enough that he’ll do things the way he wants them done, and reap the consequences afterwards when he calms down enough to think clearly. Wiley and deceitful. He can be quiet convincing and devious when the need calls for it, and on the other hand he can be very charming, giving off the appearance that butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth. It only lasts until he gets something he wants though, goal orientated as he can become if he wants something then he’ll let nothing stop him from having it.

He’s ruthless and often brutal, cruel, he’s also creative and he has poor impulse controls. Couple that with his strong willed nature and sometimes sadistic attitude and you’re asking for trouble. He doesn’t trust people from the get go, it’s almost impossible for him to simply let his guard down around people that don’t know him or vice versa. On saying that though, there are a few people that he can trust with his secrets and at his back, those few people mean the world to him and the trust that he’s shown them took a lot out of him to show. Break it? And he’ll come back at you with a vengeance that would terrify most. He has no qualms about killing someone if it means to protect himself – or people he cares about -, or to send a message to someone else.  

He doesn’t really like people much at all really. The only thing that stops him from killing people around him is that he craves the attention that he can get from them. So it’s more an ‘I’ll put up with you, if you put up with me’ situation. Yet, some people like him and it’s a mystery to him. They must see the chinks in his amour that he doesn’t, because underneath the bluntness and the bravado, he has a heart of gold covered in arsenic. He’s been hurt by people close to him and he’s closed himself off from it ever happening again. He’s literally for over a thousand years slept around killed, played on his impulses and been king of his own little world. That’ll change though, everything changes, and he’s not ready for it despite what he says.

Despite being a dick, he does have a good side that he keeps locked away. Even those close to him would have trouble seeing the cautious and quiet person that he is, seeking approval in his own little way. He has his moments where his actions speak more than his words do, and he’s the type to do anything to come out on top. He's hidden as a dragon for years and will do anything to keep his - and his friends and family - hidden from prying eyes. [/LIST][b]Likes:[/b][LIST] [*] Cherries. [*] Cinnamon. [*] A good alcoholic drink. [*] Working with his hands. Yes, that means clean up as well. [*] Manipulating people to dance like his puppets. [*] Playing games! (Games consoles etc.) [*] A good challenge wouldn't hurt him. He lives for that most days. [*] His dragon form, he doesn't spend enough time in it however. [*] Being warm, you have no idea how much a little warmth can improve the mood. [*] Doing odd jobs for the Unseelie when the need calls for a little outside intervention. [/LIST][b]Dislikes:[/b][LIST] [*] Magical humans unless they're useful to him. Most aren't. [*] People questioning his actions. Where's the mystery in that? [*] Dreaming; don't get him started on how many times his brother's meddled in there. [*] Kids. Period. If he wanted them in his life, he'd have asked for them in his life. [*] The idea of dragon slayers still existing, it sends a chill down his spine. [*] Feeling like hell after using his elemental powers. [*] Being sober; if he's sober someone somewhere at some point will bleed. [*] Being bored out of his mind; he gets destructive [*] Getting ordered to do something; he'll get creative [*] When he's finished a playstation game, he never really wants to play it again. [/LIST][b]Strengths:[/b][LIST] [*] Mostly level headed compared to some dragons he knows. [*] Won't blink or flinch at a threat thrown at him. [*] Not as stupid as he looks most days. [*] The upsides to being a dragon. [/LIST][b]Weaknesses:[/b][LIST] [*] The downsides to being a dragon. [*] Has occasional episodes where he’ll stay as a dragon for days and not care about anything. [*] When he vents, it’s normally in Latin and someone normally dies. [*] Does get territorial over what’s his, some people will notice it and some won’t and he doesn’t care. [/LIST][b]History:[/b][LIST][i](30 years old)[/i]Two thousand six hundred and some change years ago, Chase hatched from an egg on a rocky ledge in the higher peeks of the Dolomite mountains in North East Italy. The mountain range was far from human settlements at the time so the black dragon nesting pairs that had claimed the ranges as theirs for centuries didn’t feel the need to hide what they were. The occasional human hunters that did manage to find their way into the black ‘clan’s’ territory was swiftly taken care of. If you could call torture ‘taking care’ and it just so happened the first human Chase – barely thirty at the time - ever saw was a lowly farmer that had wandered too far into the lowland pastures and had been found by his older nest mate, Lance, much to Chase’s dissatisfaction. Zevran and Leliana were delighted! Their sons hadn’t had the chance to show their worth to them since either of them had hatched, but now they could.  To Chase, the farmer was nothing more than annoyance when it squealed and flailed. He didn’t want to go near it let alone touch it. So he backed out – gracefully in his eyes – much to his brother’s annoyance and disappointment of his elders. Besides, he had other more important things to do like learning how to survive and each lesson that was thrown at him, he did everything possible to come out on top.

[i](330 years old)[/i] The first three hundred years of his life went by with little to remember. The occasional fight between him and Lance was the only thing that kept him from finding some dark corner somewhere to curl up and hibernate from the boredom. That was until he met another dragon roughly the same age as he was. Talbot was a loner, his parents having vanished one day without a trace to leave the youngling to fend for himself and because of that Lance liked to use the other dragon as a toy. Rather than let Lance victimize Talbot, Chase threw himself into the mix. He didn’t have a damn clue why he was doing it, perhaps it was because Talbot had no one in his corner or perhaps he just wanted to dick with his brother. Either way, Lance left limping and Chase had a very confused and angry dragon on his hands. It was only later that he found out why the other dragon was shunned by many of the dragons of the territory. While it may’ve bothered them it didn’t bother Chase one ounce, being a mute to him was kind of cool. It was the oddest match ever but in the following months there was a strong friendship there that was a foreign concept to most of the dragons in the Dolomites.

[i](410 years old)[/i] Chase’s life took a darker turn when his brother all but dragged him to mingle with humans when their settlements started to grow more and threatened to expand into the dragon’s low land home territory. It was curiosity that reluctantly won out, smacking the idea that Zevran would clip their wings or Lelianna would shun them both aside, not even thinking of Talbot shook the silly notion from Chase’s head. Little did he know that Lance was playing him like a fool, and he’d walked willingly into the trap that his brother had set up for him all because his brother wanted to torment Talbot again. When he realized what had happened, it was too late to do anything. He was in the heart of the human’s settlement! There was only one card that he could play, and he did to mixed results. He charmed the wrong female and only found out that she was to be wed when the male came storming into the barn in a rage so fine that Chase could almost taste it. There wasn’t much of a fight after the initial shock had died away Chase dealt with it the way he knew how. He snapped the males neck and before the woman could run away screaming, he broke hers as well before setting the building on fire. The fire quickly spread but it wasn’t something that concerned him as he made his way out of town.

When he returned to the mountains, he was beyond pissed to find that Lance had used the opportunity of his absence to abuse Talbot more. What stopped him from attacking his brother was the fact that humans had somehow managed to trap and kill his mother while the older dragons had gone off to annoy the clan of reds in the far south. Chase was torn between fear and anger. He couldn’t understand why Lance hadn’t tried to help save her. Then again, a part of him knew deep down that Lance favoured the old adage of ‘survival of the fittest’. If Leliana was stupid enough to get caught then kin or not, she was weak and not worth his time, Lance had said as Chase had gone off to see if it was really true with Talbot hot on his heels.

He found the butchering ground easy enough as the dawn came; it was hard to miss it. There was blood everywhere. The carcass – Chase refused to think of it as the wise if stern dragon that had raised him – was in pieces. Her wings lay torn and pegged out across the grass. Her fangs and claws had been removed as well as the luscious midnight black scales that had run the length of her spine and more. Seeing it up close, something snapped inside of Chase, something that even Talbot couldn’t retrieve. Rather than go after the humans that had butchered his mother, Chase flew out to find Lance. It didn’t take him long to find his brother bragging about defeating humans to his father who was more entranced over the story than his missing mate.

Or he was until Chase showed up covered in Leliana’s blood. Zevran tore a strip off both of them for being weak, openly mocked them in front of the gathering dragons. It was one thing to do it in private, but another to do it in front of the others within their ragtag clan. Zevran’s boys showed just how strong they were however. One minute they were cowering like whipped dogs, the next both Chase and Lance were tearing into their father and any other dragon that dared interfere to the point that anyone with any sense cowered and hid. The lucky – if you could call it that – strike that ended their fathers life was an unknown, as both had been going for the kill, both of them claimed the kill. The fight between themselves tore the bloodkin bonds even further apart and before Lance could kill him, Chase fled broken and battered.

He didn’t even let Talbot follow him! He just got the only territory he knew and felt safe in and ended up in Asia. The first thing that he did was find a nice secluded cave where he curled up and pushed himself into hibernation.

[i](710 years old)[/i] When he crawled out of his cave some three hundred years later, Chase was pleased to see that the world had changed more. It was a small disappointment that he wasn’t dead, but whatever! He found himself a nice little village in Indonesia where he spent his time wooing the local women, killing the men that objected and just living. It was as if something had switched off in his mind, he no longer held back like he had done prior to his hibernation period. Eventually when the thrill wore off and he grew bored of the humans, Chase set out to find someone a little more substantial. Talbot. It took him a few years to get a lead on the other male but eventually he found the other black in Russia living with a small group of normad mixed race dragons. Chase didn’t pay the mongrels any mind as he plucked Talbot out of that mire and dragged him off for a little reunion.

Despite the relationship he had with Talbot, the pair of them soon split up again. It just wasn’t in their natures to settle down in one place for one person. With the humans came other interesting things, civilisations died and grew again, but what amused Chase were the ‘others’. Vampires that stalked the night, shapeshifters that hunted when the moon was full as well as the fey folk that meddled. Despite all these new things, Chase still had a habit of falling back into familiar habits over the next two hundred years.

[i](918 years old)[/i] He found a cute little dragon to tangle with in the early 1500’s in the back end of some little county in Europe. Gina was a wild one, and after spending a week having various tumbles with Chase, she vanished. He never once looked for her or cared. If he had known – consciously – that they were going to have a spawn together, he would’ve shown more of an interest.

(944 years old) The summer of 1536 landed him in a small town in Denmark unannounced. He’d been doing a favour for a friend, and one thing lead to another. He’d had too many drinks the night before, insulted the wrong person, and copped a feel of the wrong woman. Silly mistakes really, but typical for him. He was dragged out of the small tavern by human law men, the wench as well, severely hung over and annoyed. When he asked the human law men what the charges where, accusations of witchcraft were thrown in his face. Rather than fight and defend himself; Chase went along with it. A little detour, he’d thought. Right until the moment the magistrate had declared him guilty and he was staked out in a square with other ‘witches’ and set on fire for his supposed crimes. He could’ve ended it at any time, but every time he tried to summon a wisp of air to help, his powers failed him. It could’ve been from the pain his human body was experiencing, but any doubts fled his pained mind when he saw his grinning brother standing at the front of the jeering hollering crowd.

Pain…

That’s the only thing he remembers of that time.

He had somehow torn himself free and shifted scaring everyone – except for Lance – and managed to get himself out of harm’s way into the countryside. Even in dragon form the burns had carried over, and if it hadn’t been for the green dragon to find him then it would’ve died no doubt.

The month the female spent healing him in her caves was one of the oddest of Chase’s life. Mostly he couldn’t understand why she was helping a black dragon! Then again all he knew was pain and the line between mental pain and physical pain was blurred beyond recognition.  

Until one day, fifty six years later the pain went away.

Chase woke alone in the caves to find the green had gone and he was fully healed. He didn’t know that he’d gone into a brief hibernation period until he went out into the world.

The first thing he did when he’d regained enough function to move out of the caves after checking he could still shift and fly, was find a nice stiff drink just so he could feel something. He kept drinking until he’d managed to gain a foothold in the world once more, pushing obstacles out of his way by either ripping them apart or by other means. He’s worked his way from the bottom to the top of his own ladder again, just surviving the best way he knows how and rather than advertise his continued presence to his brother, Chase has laid relatively low in the grand scheme of things, popping up every now and then when a ‘friend’ needs a helping hand.

1932 had him settling in Jackford on the insistence of a fey acquaintance from America. The fey in question had returned to the Sithin that had spawned it so Syn could no longer manage the upscale club that catered to the sins of the flesh. Eighty years on, Chase has managed the club like a pro and still managed to keep things running smoothly when it comes to his other dealings. He even managed to sweet talk Talbot into joining in the ‘relocation thing’ and settling down with him. [/LIST][/SIZE]

[rosesisupposes]

To Dust or To Gold

Part 8 of Another Goddamn Hero Story

read on ao3

Chapter Pairings: established Royality, Analogical, pre-romantic LAMP (emphasis on Moxiety and Logince)

Chapter Warnings: Hospitals, death threats, background character deaths, some gore, hallucinations, self-hatred, bipolar cycling (both depressive and manic), cliffhanger ending :D

Word Count:  9,395 [it’s a doozy]

Taglist: @residentanchor @royally-anxious @bewarethegrammarpolice   @jemthebookworm @arandompasserby  @sparkly-rainbow-salt @astral-eclipse @thelowlysatsuma @monsterinatophat @turtally-pawsome @um-yes-hi-hello @idkaurl @potestessemagishomosexualitatis @hawthornshadow

~~~~~~~~~~

“So,” Logan began.

“So,” Roman responded, reclining in an ornate ruby chair.

“Sew buttons!” Patton interrupted, draping himself across Roman’s lap.

Virgil growled in frustration. “Can you please focus for a single second?”

The heroes had relocated to the supers’ gym, still anxious to keep the untested villains away from the mayor.

“We don’t take orders, Reflex,” the Marauder replied evenly. “We’re only here because you two don’t seem as incompetent as the rest of the super assholes.”

“You don’t need to take orders,” Logan said, shooting Virgil a reassuring look even as he spoke. “We just need to know what exactly you can do, and plan how we’ll stay in contact.”

“Asking for my number already? I couldn’t possibly, not so soon,” Roman responded, fluttering his eyelashes.

“We’re not joining your ‘hatchet’ or whatever you call it,” Patton added. “We’re here to take down a murderer, not get sucked into the system.”

“We’re not asking you to join H.A.T.C.H.,” Logan said patiently. “But if we don’t know where you are or how to contact you, that just makes you a liability.”

“Actually it’s just an air ability,” Patton quipped back. His lips didn’t twitch. He didn’t grin. But the smugness was palpable from across the gym. Logan lost his train of thought at the overwhelmingly familiar feeling of a punster at work. He could practically see his dad’s irritatingly-pleased grin shining through Patton’s smooth mask.

Virgil, a true hero, came to Logan’s rescue. “So, air ability. Air manipulation, no matter where the air is, yeah? Inside or outside of a person?”

Gale Force paused, then nodded.

“And you, Shiny Red Boy, any limitations we need to know about?”

The Crimson Marauder gasped. “Shiny red boy? That’s the best you can do? I am appalled, I am disgusted, I spend my life dedicated to being chaotic neutral and this is the thanks I get??”

Virgil rolled his eyes. “Okay, Drama Red Queen, shall I paint the roses for you or are you going to answer the question?”

“Joke’s on you, I like that nickname,” Roman said with a sniff. “I just need to keep focused. And my constructs can only be autonomous if they’re tiny. And I can’t do more overall mass at once than something about the size of this entire room.”

Logan looked around the echoing room, designed for whole teams of heroes to practice in at once. “That’s some power,” he said softly. “And limited only by strength of mind. Fascinating.”

“And what about you two?” Patton asked in a saccharine-sweet voice. “You wouldn’t get us to divulge details without returning the favor, would you?”

“I have, as you’ve seen, a super speed ability. I can also speed read or manipulate just a hand or limb to go at enhanced speeds. I can go from 0 to 60 in .0001 seconds, and my top recorded speed is 1,700 miles per hour, or approximately 2,700 kilometers per hour.” Logan responded matter-of-factly.

“And what about you, Tall, Dark, and Muscly?” Roman asked.

“I picked my super name as Reflex for a reason. I’ve got fight, flight, and freeze. Super strength, superflight that can rival the Doc here for speed, and the shockwave you both saw the other day. I send out a burst of energy that stuns or knocks out anyone in a given radius.”

“Can you control who it affects?” Patton asked curiously. “Or is it just anyone?”

Virgil’s mouth twisted. “I can sometimes control it, yes. If I’m focused, and I’m not too upset at the time. It’s not guaranteed.”

“How upset were you the other day then?”

“You’d just attacked my partner. I was pissed, but in control. If you’d more seriously injured L- the Doctor, you might have needed more than one day to wake up from the coma I put you both in.”

“Partners are important,” Patton said softly, running a hand through Roman’s dark, wavy hair. He turned and made eye contact with the heroes. “If you hurt him, I will end you.” It wasn’t a threat, but a statement of fact.

Virgil locked eyes with the villain, jerking his head at Logan. “And if you hurt him, you’ll wish I’d only killed you.”

Roman chuckled, flashing a smile at Logan over Patton’s curly head. “Aww, look at then, they’re bonding!”

Logan looked up at his partner and back to Gale Force. “They’re bonding over death threats. I don’t think this is how I expected a hero-villain team-up to go.”

“It’s okay, Doc, you and me are clearly the pretty faces of our respective teams next to the brawn of our boys here.”

“Excuse you, I did not get three degrees in the time it takes most people to get one to be called just a pretty face,“ Logan said with an frown.

“Doesn’t make it any less true, though,” the Marauder replied with a wink. “Your face is pretty, you gotta accept it.”

Logan stared at the villain. “Is this flirting?”

“Do you want it to be?”

“No, I’m legitimately asking, I’m apparently unable to identify it on my own.”

Virgil and Patton stopped staring one another down in time to hear the last comment. Virgil snorted. “Doc, you have understatement down to an art.”

“Shush, you,” Logan said, blushing faintly.

“Do you have, like, a crush on him?” Roman gushed.

“Please, no-”

“Oooohhhh, he totally has a crush on him!!” Patton chimed in, bouncing in Roman’s lap.

“Reflex, I take all of this back, this was a terrible idea, I’m leaving…”

Virgil gently nudged Logan with a shoulder. “No you won’t. This is too important. And you and I are good, no matter what.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Darling, I think they might be gay,” Roman stage-whispered to Patton.

“And I think you might be annoying,” Virgil shot back. “Enough fucking around. We know your powers, you know ours. What we don’t know is anything about the bastard out here killing our city.”

Logan adjusted the goggles on top of his head. “We can tell you what we know from the Mayor. It’s not much. They clearly can cause some sort of nightmare or hallucination in others. The survivor mentioned the outline of a smile in the dust clouds.”

“Like the Cheshire Cat,” Roman murmured. “How very Carollian.” Logan started, a curious expression on his face as he looked at the taller villain.

Winds gusted around Gale Force as he lifted himself up off of his partner’s lap. “A survivor? Who saw what happened?”

“Yes, a teenage girl. She’s in the hospital.”

“Could we ask her for more detail?” Virgil mused aloud. “Get a full description of events, see if there are any little details she may have missed?”

“It’s worth a shot.”

~~~~~~~~~~

To say that the hospital staff reacted oddly to seeing the until-recently most prominent villains strolling in the front door, accompanied but not restrained by some of the best-loved heroes would be putting it mildly. Reflex had to undergo a brief concussion test administered by a well-meaning emergency tech, and Doctor Vectorious had to calmly talk a doctor into putting the defibrillator back on the wall and stop brandishing it as a weapon.

Once the misunderstanding was cleared up, Virgil politely asked after their patient.

“Ah, yes. She’s conscious and stable, if still very shaken. Her family is in with her right now.”

“Can we see her?”

“Not all of you! Pick just one, and her mom stays no matter who it is.”

Virgil nodded. “We should ask who she wants in there. Who she’d be most comfortable with. She’s just a kid, after all.”

The doctor nodded. “I’ll ask. You may wait here.” She paused, looking around the waiting room with many sets of staring eyes. “On second thought, follow me.”

Patton seemed completely oblivious to their observers. Roman stared at his surroundings as they walked, sniffing the air frequently. Virgil walked closer than normal to Logan, accidentally bumping him several times as he fought the urge to shrink into the hoodie he wasn’t wearing.

The doctor showed them to a smaller, empty waiting room and left them there with a brisk nod.

“Why’s it smell so weird here?” Roman finally asked.

“Weird?”

“Like, sharp. Stinging in smell form. Kinda acrid, I guess. But also a bit like soap?”

“That’s the antiseptic,” Logan said. “Have you not been in a hospital before?”

Roman went quiet, then finally said, “I haven’t been to a doctor’s office before. Not that I remember, anyway.”

Logan pursed his lips and Virgil was about to speak when the doctor returned.

“The patient has made her request,” she began.

“Yes?”

“...she asked for him,” the woman replied, pointing at the Crimson Marauder.

The group looked to Roman, then back at the doctor as one.

“I confirmed it with her. She specifically requested ‘the red one.’”

Roman nervously adjusted his cape and mask. “Can she speak to me now?”

“Yes, follow me.”

He stepped into the indicated door to see a middle-aged woman with plenty of silver threads in her plump braid helping the young woman on the cot drink from a pink plastic cup. “Um, hi, Ms. and Miss Rodrigeuz. I’m the Crimson Marauder,” he began.

The young woman sat up without her mother’s help, leaning forward eagerly.

“Are you really, though?”

“...would anyone try to impersonate me?”

“I mean… I saw the group. You’re with the heroes again. Are you still the Marauder if you’re back?” she asked with a bruised smile. 

“Back…?”

“You don’t remember me, do you. I was probably one of many people who thanked you, back in your Prince days.”

Roman’s eyes went wide. “Sofia? That Sofia?” he asked, voice cracking. “The little princess?”

“You do remember,” her mom commented softly, brushing a gentle hand through Sofia’s hair. “She kept that crown for years. Even when she insisted that princesses were ‘only for los niños’, she would keep pulling it out when she thought we couldn’t see.”

Roman swallowed a lump in his throat. “I could never forget. You were the first person ever to thank me. The first civilian to treat me like a real hero.”

“Only the first civilian?”

“I- another hero did, too. Many years ago.”

Sofia tilted her head. Her bruises were shockingly colorful, and she spoke carefully around a tender jaw, but she seemed otherwise in one piece. “Why did you stop?”

“What?”

“You were ours. The Prince of Sycamore Heights. Why did you become a villain?”

Roman looked down. “It’s… complicated. But I thought I could do a better job for our home this way.”

“Things did get better,” her mom said. “For years, it was so much better. After you got rid of the Patrol.”

“It wasn’t just me,” Roman responded automatically.

“You and Copper Eye. I remember,” Sofia said. “I loved watching her work.”

“So did I,” Roman said quietly, swiping at the tear wriggling out of his eye. He swallowed and settled his shoulders, trying to compose himself. “Sofia, can I ask you about what you remember about this attack?”

“It’s not much,” she warned.

“Anything helps. We’re going to get whoever did this. I promise.”

Sofia looked up, meeting his eyes directly. “Don’t promise unless you mean it.”

Roman looked back steadily, and placed a hand over his heart. “I, the Crimson Marauder, formerly the Scarlet Prince, promise you, Sofia Rodriguez: we’ll get the one who hurt you and all those people, or die in the attempt.”

Sofia nodded fiercely. “Here’s what I remember.”

~~~~~~~~~~

The Crimson Marauder sat on a red swing floating from nothing as Gale Force reclined on air beside him. They faced the heroes, who were more sensibly sitting on the edge of the roof of an office building near the middle of the city. All four contemplated the details Roman had shared in their own ways. A tiny tornado ran up and down Patton’s fingers, Roman created and vanished mini constructs, Logan’s fingers tapped so quickly they left erosion trails on the concrete, and Virgil hummed tunelessly under his breath.

“You know what seems weird to me?” Reflex said at length. “I don’t know if this means anything, but your friend seems like an extremely level-headed teenager. And yet...”

“...you gonna finish that or do you just think teenagers are dumb.”

“Oh, I don’t think they’re dumb, they just scare the living shit out of me,” Virgil said with a quirk in his smile. “No, she seems really collected, really rational, and yet she didn’t think twice before leaving safety to get to her family.”

“It’s family,” Patton said curtly. “Of course she didn’t.”

“Believe me, I understand protecting family,” Virgil replied. “But not even trying to confirm? Not even when she saw others running? It seems like she was just operating off panic.”

“You’d know all about that, wouldn’t you, Mr. Brendon Urie Wannabe,” Roman snarked. But he had also reached out and grabbed Patton’s hand, squeezing reassurance to his partner to counteract the dark cloud spread across his face.

“Do you think that tells us something about how the villain operates?” Doctor Vectorious asked Reflex, pushing them back on track.

“Maybe it’s more than just visual hallucinations?”

“Hm, interesting theory, but-” Logan began, when their watches began to blare with a new H.A.T.C.H. alert.

“Fuck, the harbor!” Virgil said.

“Southeast,” Logan said at the same time. He looked up at both villains. “Meet us there.”

Reflex was already soaring away, a streak of black and purple stretching through the city. A second blur joined him, black and white and blue paralleling his trajectory from the ground.

Roman squeezed Patton’s hand once more, tightly. “We’re doing this, yeah?”

“We are. We have to.”

“Okay then. Time for some thrilling heroics.”

As one, they went from sitting to moving, both riding a red hang glider that sped as quickly as the ripping wind that sprang up to carry it.

They soared over the city towards the water, following the heroes. Roman nudged Patton as they approached.

“What is that?”

“Looks like a dust cloud. Someone’s being naughty.”

“Should we land?”

Patton nodded, letting go of the frame to point to roof where the heroes were braced, trying to see into the obscured area. He floated down to land softly, Roman a breath behind him. They stared at the enormous cloud of dust and debris, trying to make out what was happening underneath.

Reflex frowned. “It’s not moving.”

Doctor Vectorious nodded. “If it were a true debris cloud, it should be dissipating or growing, not just staying static. It’s obscuring something, and I can’t tell what.”

“Maybe I can help clear things up,” Gale Force offered, sending winds towards the very center of the obstruction. Dust and rocks and debris blew up and away, out of the three-block radius and into the harbor.

The Crimson Marauder gasped aloud as the cloud faded. “Whatever I was expecting, that wasn’t it.”

The dust cloud had been pushed away. But a dark mass remained. It oozed through the streets, a bulbous form that dragged on corners and sidewalks but left no residue. It was mesmerizing, in an off-putting way. Colors shifted and played over its dark surface like far-off nebulas brought to earth, now an orange veil, now pink, now a green or blue haze. It absorbed light rather than giving any off, but besides the flicker of changing colors, no movement was seen.

“...I know I’m gonna regret this, but I think we should go straight into it,” Reflex offered, stepping out into the open air. “We need to know if it’s solid, and this is where the alert said the disturbance was.”

“Are all heroes dumb enough to wander into Definitely-Murderous-Glow-Clouds or is it just you?” Gale Force asked mildly.

“All hail the Glow Cloud,” Logan and Roman said at the same time, then scowled at the other for having the same thought.

“What else do you suggest then?”

Patton huffed, and paced on the edge of the roof. “...I don’t know.”

“We’ll send the strongest two first, then,” Doctor Vectorious mused. “‘Flex, you fly in with Gale Force to blow off any more debris, and to see if you can wind-funnel your way in. We’ll back you up, ready to pull you out if needed, or Marauder here can add a construct tunnel if you’re able to open it up. Is that acceptable?”

Patton frowned at what felt like condescension, at this hero trying to tell them what to do. But, with resignation, he realized he didn’t have a better plan, and Valerie’s murderer could be getting away right now for all they knew. Stiffly, he nodded his assent.

Roman cupped his neck, fingers tangled in the curls at his nape. “Be careful, gingerpie,” he whispered. “If you die, I’ll never forgive you.”

“Don’t worry, honeygold, I’ll be your boo no matter what,” Patton murmured back with a grin. He kissed Roman firmly on the mouth, right under his mask.

“I’m too pretty to date a ghost,” Roman complained, but he was smiling all the same.

Virgil rolled his eyes. “Okay, Hurricane Gay-trina, let’s not waste any more time. Can you make a wind tunnel I can fly through without getting hurt?”

Without a word, air raced past them into a clear cone that hollowed out, a tube of rushing wind that stretched from their spot towards the mass. Virgil acknowledged his villain partner with a two-fingered salute and sped down it, rocketing towards the form that continued to shift colors. He extended a clenched fist, bracing himself to collide with the edge, ready to use all his strength to bust through if possible.

Instead of hitting a hard edge, though, he just passed into it as the sun disappeared. Darkness surrounded him, the pitch black of an overcast midnight. He could suddenly hear impacts, crunching rock and shouts and screams, and froze. He couldn’t move suddenly, not without seeing around him. He might hurt those near him worse with too fast a movement or a misplaced step.

Virgil had never expected to experience relief at seeing Gale Force, but the tunnel of wind opened up the mass and brought in Patton and the setting sunlight in a joint beam. “It worked!” Virgil said. “Quick, blow away as much of this as you can. I can try to stun everyone if I need to.”

The villain didn’t pause or argue, but multiplied the cyclone until copies branched out in all directions. They punched through the dark haze in dozens of places, bringing in the scant evening light and blessedly fresh air. Some of the screams faded, and Virgil could finally see the faces of surrounding civilians as their terror faded into confusion.

Both hero and villain could see what had caused the screams. A young villain, a H.E.A.R.T.S. dropout Virgil remembered, had paused in the center of the chaos. They blinked, slowly shrinking their hands back from huge, car-sized fists to normal limbs. The villain looked around them, and down at their torn costume. It was as bloody and ripped as their hands, the bold gold and red of a ringmaster’s coat turned into something out of a horror film. The Contortionist fell heavily to their knees, still shaken.

A burst of blue fire brought attention to the other active combatant. This was a current H.E.A.R.T.S. student, not yet a full hero, and even through her mask it was clear she was terrified. Another flash of light and she popped into being closer to the newcomers.

“V- I mean, Reflex?” she asked in a tiny voice.

“It’s really me, Blynk,” he reassured her, crouching slightly to shrink the almost-foot difference in their heights.

“I- where did they go? The ones attacking me? They were… everywhere.” She balled one hand in the loose blue dress that made up her costume as the other pulled up the attached hood nervously.

“It was an illusion,” Patton explained. “This new villain, Agent Whisper. They make you see things that aren’t there.”

“I couldn’t get away,” she whispered. “No matter how many times I teleported, they were still there to catch me.”

“They’re gone,” Virgil assured her. “You’re safe.” He offered his arms, and the young hero dove into his embrace. Speaking over her head, he looked up at his villain partner. “Can you fully break this up?”

“Here comes Mister Blue Sky,” Patton said with incongruous cheer, expanding the existing funnels. Light filled more and more of their view until the full sky returned and the last of the strange substance melted into air.

A zip and a thud heralded the arrival of the missing hero-villain pair.

“Good work,” Logan told them both. “A small bit seemed to split off, but you cleared the area and appear to have fully disrupted any illusions.”

“They got away?” Patton asked sharply. “Which direction?” He was already started to drift into the air.

Virgil grabbed the loose tunic and tugged him down. “We can’t just chase after them!”

“Why the fuck not?”

The angry question was spat into Virgil’s face, but it was Logan and Roman who answered simultaneously, “We need to help the people here.”

The fading sunlight showed just how right they were. Craters littered the landscape around them. So did bodies. Every visible face was bruised or bloody, but luckily, most were moving as civilians picked themselves up out of the wreckage.

Logan was already confirming that emergency care was on the way as he zipped around the battlefield, assisting where he could. Roman took one look at the injured and started to conjure glowing splints and crutches.

Patton was still staring angrily at the direction Logan had indicated was  that of Agent Whisper’s escape, straining at Virgil’s hold. “Let me the fuck go,” he snapped. “I’m not here to be your goddamn hero, I’m here for revenge.”

“You think I don’t get that?” Virgil snapped back. “I want the bastard dead as much as you do, so don’t think for a second that you have a monopoly on rage here.”

“Then what are we waiting for? We’re the strongest and those two both know it. Let’s follow this piece of shit, grind them into dust, and be fucking done with this ‘partnership.’”

Virgil’s grip slackened for a second as he looked around them, a cloud of anger on his face. But it passed, and he pulled Gale Force all the way back to earth. “We can’t just rush in. This isn’t just for revenge: it’s to stop more people getting hurt. And it’s because we’re the strongest that we can’t risk blazing through, because we’ll be the reason more are hurt.”

Patton crossed his arms, glaring at the taller man. “What makes you think I care about a couple of casualties if it means I get revenge?”

“Because you’re still human,” Reflex responded. His gaze was level, understanding. “If all you wanted was their death at any cost, you wouldn’t have come to us. I’m not asking you to admit anything, but I have a feeling you know more about collateral damage than you ever wanted to know.” A nerve in Patton’s cheek jumped at that and Virgil nodded. “Like I said. Not asking you to admit anything. But I get it. I never wanted to be a hero. But then my partner convinced me that it’s not about getting recognition, it’s not about the fights. It’s about doing the best you can for as many people as you can. It’s about using these powers I never asked for to do what others can’t.”

Patton grumbled, but assented. “Fine. What can I do here, then?”

“Help me with the rubble? Drop it in the harbor if you need to.”

Reflex and Gale Force joined their partners in cleaning up the disaster zone. ‘Flex lifted enormous chunks of rock and concrete gently to free trapped limbs or to uncover more bodies. He tossed them into the air, where the wind-manipulator caught them and floated them safely to the water.

The Crimson Marauder flew into the air to check for more injured civilians, held aloft by his glowing hands. He was aware of Doctor Vectorious moving quickly somewhere below him, running up buildings and around the square to find civilians who’d been outside as well as in the surrounding apartments and offices. Was anyone limping? Anyone who needed a temporary bandage? Where was the emergency services van, shouldn’t they be here?

A huge crack of of rubble and rock shifting distracted him, and he whirled to see where the noise was coming from. By the time he registered that it was just Reflex working with Patton (aww, his love was working with one of his crushes!), he’d lost focus and his glow went out. He fell, stomach dropping as he tried to conjure something, anything, even just a mattress or a trampoline to break his fall.

A warm impact hit him as a blur originating from a nearby roof crashed into him and carried them both to a fire escape on the other side of the narrow street. The blur resolved back into Doctor Vectorious, and he found himself being held in the shorter man’s arms.

The speedster stared for a moment, then looked away with a slight pink tinge to his pale cheeks. “You’re, um,” he said, jerking his head towards him without looking back. “Uncovered.”

Roman started, feeling his face. The impact had knocked off his mask, and the hero was pointedly looking away to preserve his identity.

Or, perhaps, Logan was looking away because his internal monologue had been hijacked by the phrase, “Oh fuck, he’s hot.”

Roman quickly conjured a replacement mask and slid out of Logan’s hold to stand on his own again. The hero remained with his gaze averted until a siren’s blare drew close, announcing the arrival of the emergency crew.

“Thank fuck,” Roman sighed, and flew himself down to greet them. He explained quickly that his constructs needed to be replaced now so that they wouldn’t fade if they got too far away. He was already grateful that they’d be detached from him long enough that they hadn’t faded when he momentarily lost focus, and was eager to be able to draw back his energies further.

Virgil, Logan, and Patton ferried the injured from ruins of the street to the vans, including both the young hero and villain to the separate supers truck. Finally, they were able to move out. The heroes had acquired a better-functioning scanner for the villains, one that could call them specifically when they were needed, and allowed the villains to call them securely if they should so choose. About to part, Reflex paused, and offered Gale Force a handshake. Warily, the villain accepted, and the Marauder did too, in turn. Doctor Vectorious was more hesitant, but copied his partner.

Back in Logan’s apartment, the shorter man washed his face thoroughly, still shivering slightly at the remembrance of so many hurt. “How many casualties was it, all told?”

“Ten. All civilians. Both The Contortionist and Blynk are on bed rest, but they’ll recover. Total injuries are at about 25 people, but the techs said at least ten additional civilians avoided worse injuries that could have lead to critical conditions thanks to our timing as a group.”

Logan sighed. “I know I should be grateful that we were able to help so many, proportionally, but…”

“I know.”

“This villain is no joke, Virge. 35 deaths and it hasn’t yet been two days.”

“We’ll get them, Lo. I promise.”

Logan looked up. Virgil was back in civilian clothes that he left here in his partner’s apartment, one of his trusty black hoodies unzipped over a plain tee and sweatpants. Logan had changed back into his version of casual: a button-up not fully buttoned, no tie, and jeans.

“Speaking of promises…” he began. He ran a hand through already-mussed hair. “I was cut off, yesterday. I know that there are bigger, more pressing issues now but I still want to finish the thought I was trying to express.”

“Lo, it’s okay if you don’t return the sentiment, you know that, right? I’ll still love you as a friend no matter what.”

Logan sat next to Virgil on the couch. “I appreciate that, Vee, but that’s not where I was going.”

“Oh?” Virgil asked, smiling hopefully.

“I apologize for my obliviousness, Virgil, and for how long it took me to put this together, but I believe I feel the same type of romantic sentiment towards you as you’ve expressed that you feel towards me.” Logan reached out a tentative hand to take Virgil’s in his.

“You’re sounding like a textbook again, Lo,” Virgil teased, squeezing Logan’s hand.

“Sorry, I just-”

“I’m not complaining, not in the slightest. It’s part of you, ya know? It’s part of the charm.” He shifted over on the couch until their thighs were touching, and, receiving a nod of approval, draped an arm around his partner’s shoulders. “I love you, Logan.”

Logan blushed deep. “I love you as well, Virgil.”

“Can I kiss you?”

“Please do.”

Lips met in tentative sweetness and softness, neither pushing or needing to. This was them, comfort and companionship that felt as natural as breathing. And at this particular moment, breathing was the more difficult option of the two.

At long last, Logan broke off and looked up into Virgil’s dark eyes. “Are we… dating? It seems like an odd term, or at the very least an odd distinction.”

“I mean. We’re already partners,” Virgil said with a shrug and a grin.

“Oh no, don’t you start on puns too, now. There’s already Dad and Gale Force, I refuse to take any more of this.”

“Okay, okay,” Virgil said, laughing. “I’ll have mercy. Because I love you.” He most definitely did not add in the phrase because it was a relief to say it out loud after so many years of thinking it. He would definitely not continue to sprinkle it in liberally after seeing Logan’s pink-cheeked reaction to hearing it.

“I must say, I was quite impressed by the Marauder today. I thought he’d entirely turned his back on heroing when he realigned, but it appears he really is a hero at heart. Or, at the very least, a super who cares about the well-being of civilians over his personal gain.”

“Almost like people can have a change of heart without a change of personality,” Virgil commented mildly.

“He’s still a villain, though,” Logan added sharply. “And don’t think I didn’t see Gale Force trying to run off before you talked him down.”

Virgil sighed, letting his arm fall off Logan’s shoulders. “He’s not all bad, Lo. He’s just an angry human with far too many scars that haven’t come close to healing yet.”

“So are you. And yet you’re still a hero.”

“But I’ve had you, for nine years. He only has whats-his-name. Roman. Princey. Who’s just as burned, if not quite so angry.” Virgil’s voice was soft.

Logan frowned. “Why make excuses for them?”

“Because it’s not hard for me to picture a different world where I went that direction instead, Lo. I… I could picture myself neutral, hiding from my powers. Or a villain, angry at the city for not finding me sooner. Gale Force understands that. The fury. And besides that… I like them. For all that they’re frustrating and have evil tendencies and all the public displays of affection.”

An eyebrow raised above glasses frames. “You like them?”

“I mean, you know I’ve been flirting with Princey during fights. It’s not just because I’m a walking stereotype of a snarky hero. And the other one, Patton, he’s not bad-looking either.”

“Ah, I see,” Logan said quietly.

"This doesn’t affect how I feel about you, Lo, not in any way,” Virgil rushed to clarify. “It could never. It’ll always be you, no matter if I pursue these other feelings or not.”

Logan relaxed slightly. “I don’t know that I feel similarly, or even could, not when I only realized how I felt about you through a strong platonic bond over literal years.”

“That’s more than okay. You mean the most to me. If you’d rather I keep quiet about these feelings, just let them fade…”

“No, that’s unnecessary. I am not opposed to you, ah, pursuing them, just keep me informed. I do understand the… attraction.” Logan blushed lightly, but coughed and continued. “And as long as you’re safe. They’re still villains, Vee. We can’t trust them, not past taking down Agent Whisper.”

“You may be right. You usually are. But, I don’t know, man. I feel like maybe we can, this time.”

Logan raised an eyebrow again. “Virgil the cynic, wanting to trust people?”

“Oh look, it’s the pot, calling the kettle black,” Virgil replied, shoving Logan lightly in the shoulder.

“Guilty as charged.”

“By the way, can I borrow your phone charger, I wanna call Mom and Mama today, and the sibs if they’re home.”

“Why do you think I bought an extra-long purple cord?”

~~~~~~~~~~

D.R.E.A.M. Index #337475 Classification: A.3.i [Tertiary Tier Hero, Legacy] Name: Blynk Status: INACTIVE /////////Reason: Injury Civilian Name: [CLEARANCE: TOP SECRET] McKenzie Bleu Affiliation: Hero /////////H.A.T.C.H. Status: Temporarily Inactive Partners/Sidekicks: N/A Primary Foes: N/A Powers: Short-Range Teleportation; Enhanced Durability; /////////Range approximately 100 yds; does not need to see destination, but does need to focus on it Costume: Black leggings with lace up ballet slippers; blue dress with white stripe on the skirt with attached hood Age: 17 Height: 5’4 Pronouns: She/Her H.E.A.R.T.S. Class: Enrolled, anticipated ‘19 Note: Daughter of DI#265353; Not yet cleared for independent hero missions - involvement in IR 18-Z-0015 unintentional and due to proximity alone

D.R.E.A.M. Index #337432 Classification: Z.3.iv [Tertiary Tier Villain, Unknown] Name: The Contortionist Status: INACTIVE /////////Reason: Incarceration, Injury Civilian Name: [CLEARANCE: CONFIDENTIAL] Tai Kim Affiliation: Villain Partners/Sidekicks: N/A Primary Foes: N/A Powers: Body Plasticity - Medium Spectrum; /////////Can alter density and length of body parts; cannot fully transform into other shapes Costume: Bodysuit in black, red, and gold; designed to look like a tailcoat with gold braiding; /////////Strongly reminiscent of a ringmaster outfit, but able to stretch with them Age: 19 Height: 5’10 Pronouns: They/Them H.E.A.R.T.S. Class: Dropout Note: Believed to have left the city until involvement in IR 18-Z-0015

~~~~~~~~~~

They were woken early the next morning by yet another H.A.T.C.H. alert. Virgil gave a single breath to regret his poor, poor sleep schedule before changing into his costume.

Mayor and S.E.A.M. Stokes weren’t sure of the exact nature of the disturbance, but they knew it involved supers. In this uncertain climate, that meant sending their best, just to be prepared. At Virgil’s urging, Logan had conceded to alert their villain partners as well.

“What’s the harm in being ready, L?”

“They’re collectively responsible for over fifteen felonies.”

“...yeah, but they’re on our side now.”

Logan fixed his partner with a look.

“I know, I know. We can’t trust them entirely. But you trust me, right?”

Logan softened. “Of course I do. I trust you with my life.”

Virgil paused, blushing slightly. “I… god, I love you, Lo.”

“I love you as well.”

Standing by the window, in full costume, seconds before rushing to whatever crime scene had alerted them today, Virgil stole a moment to pull his partner in close and kiss him softly.

They parted, both pink-faced. “I’ve just got a hunch, Lo. I think we’ll need them, or at least not regret bringing them along. And I swear, I’ll protect you if they try anything.”

And thus, as they surveyed the scene from the top of a nearby building, the villains arrived as well.

“I don’t see Agent Piss-per anywhere,” Gale Force said with a frown.

“We haven’t either,” Logan replied evenly. “But they’ve been targeting super fights so far. It’s only logical to conclude that any fight between persons with enhanced abilities will continue to be targets for them.”

“I’m not participating in your self-righteous state-sanctioned vigilantism,” the Marauder said, lounging against the wall. “Who’s even fighting?”

“They’re a recurring duo. They either partner up or are on opposite sides, it depends on which muse is controlling her,” Virgil explained, gesturing to the dark-clad figure visible from above. Many brilliant lights surrounded her, with more seeming to sprout from the galaxy print on her suit. Tiny constellations flew towards her opponent and swirled around the other’s massive, cascading skirts. With Gale Force’s help, they could all hear the conversation on the wind - a steady stream of chat and compliments, even as star constructs disrupted the princess-figure’s attempts to infiltrate the nearby museum.

“Who’s this?”

“Today? Nebula. You may also know her as Ghost. But she’s not nearly as active as some I could name,” Logan explained, glancing side-eyed at where Gale Force seemed to be taking notes.

“Yes, but what about the aesthetic one,” the Marauder asked with a tone bordering on reverence.

Virgil smirked. “She’s known as Lovely Darling. A mesmerizer with a strong affinity for princesses. So you know, pretty familiar, except more people are infatuated with her than just herself.”

Roman pouted at the tall hero and opened his mouth to object when the air suddenly shifted and four sets of eyes snapped to the scene below.

A dark dust cloud was rising, despite the complete lack of debris or destruction from the existing fight. Looking for the details, Virgil saw how the ‘dust’ cloud dragged and stuck on corners as it neared both supers.

“Heads up!” Gale Force shouted, and the air itself carried his voice, surprising them both as they noticed the impending danger. Logan was there a breath later, grabbing them both and pulling them away before rejoining the group in a blur.

“Go in all at once?” Virgil asked.

“On y va,” Roman said firmly, and they moved forward as one. The minute they passed into the cloudlike mass, Roman had the strangest sense of someone muttering, Oh, this should be fun.

And then the world went grey. His limbs went heavy and his heart turned to lead. A sluggishness settled over his entire body as he crumpled to his knees. He couldn’t muster the energy to do anything but struggle to stay upright, and he watched his constructs melt away in a blink of an eye. Of course he couldn’t create anything. He was useless. Everyone knew he was the weakest of their group. No raw power like Reflex, no elemental power like Patton, no brilliant strategy like the Doctor. He just had his little red toys. And now, he didn’t even have those.

It was fitting, wasn’t it? Let everyone see how worthless he was, whether a hero or a villain. He could die here, in this cloud, and the world would not note his passing nor feel his loss. A tear coursed down his cheek and fell onto his hands as he struggle to just barely brace himself. All he was good for was tears. How had anyone been fooled enough to believe anything else? Had they even been fooled? Or had they just been humoring him, pretending that he had something to offer. Seeing his obvious fragility and flattering him the way you compliment a child’s terrible scribbles. Who could ever truly believe in him? His arms trembled, and he collapsed fully, prone upon the ground, awash in despair and listlessness.

Logan was running as he passed into the cloud. He was surprised to see it was only a hair’s width as he passed through, coming into practically the same daylit scene on the other side. He kept running as he looked for the villain. Ro- the Marauder was flying on his right, with Virgil and Gale Force on his left. Was that Agent Whisper up there? The dark, humanoid shape was further back than he’d guessed. He pushed himself to speed up, to get there faster before the villain could escape again. He was reaching a rate of one hundred miles per hour - why weren’t they getting closer? His muscles felt odd, not the normal level of burn for this speed, but the wind was rushing through his hair and he could see the world flashing by through his goggles. Perhaps his workout routine was finally helping him reach new speeds. He pushed harder, blurring into five hundred miles per hour, fighting to reach the villain. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his villain partners had fallen behind him, but Virgil was still there on his left. But Agent Whisper was still so far away. He ran faster, nearing his top speed. He was a blur, a bullet streaking towards its target, but he could still see and feel his whole body. Finally, the dark antagonist was near, and he went to slow down to grab them, incapacitate them, bring them to justice.

But he couldn’t stop. His legs wouldn’t slow, his arms still pumping in rhythm to keep running. He was still moving, still in the nimbus of speed that almost no one could see. He looked frantically around only to see that he’d left Virgil far behind. He tried to turn, but couldn’t. He was just running, running, through the city, past the city, over hills and mountains and water and more mountains and he couldn’t stop. How would he get home? How would he live? How would he see Mom and Dad again, how would he be there for Jem and Bea? How would he be with Virgil, now that they finally were? He’d left him back there, surrounded by villains. He’d left him all alone, the one thing he’d promised would never happen back when they’d first met. How would time pass while he was stuck in this endless speed? Would he even feel it? Would he just run until his body gave out from the stress or exhaustion?

“Please!” he tried to yell. “Please, get me out!”

But his words were whipped away by the rush of air and movement all around him. He was trapped.

Virgil was prepared for his first step into the cloud, for the light to cut out and the fog to surround him. He felt slightly more of the texture this time, a weird film that clung to his skin. He strode in, scanning for the villain, trusting his hearing more than his sight, which extended only about three feet in any direction. He turned almost instinctively to look for Logan at his right, to check if the speedster had dashed in. He saw his partner but… Logan was frozen, eyes jumping and flitting around. His muscles twitched, but he seemed glued to the spot. His mouth opened, but no sound came out. Past him, a red-and-black form lay curled in a fetal position, unmoving.

Virgil reached his partner and love in a single step, reaching out for his shoulder. The impact caused Logan’s eyes to snap open as he cried out in pain. Virgil immediately pulled his hand back, only to see bones protruding from Logan’s arm from how strong his touch had been.

“Fuck, Lo, I didn’t mean to, I’m so sorry-”

“You always are,” Logan snapped back, blood seeping down his shoulder. “Sorry will mean nothing when you kill someone. They won’t care that you didn’t mean it!”

Tears sprang from Virgil’s eyes. He looked down to see the concrete was crumbling where his foot had touched the ground. “Please, Lo, let me help-”

“Don’t touch me!” his friend screamed, terror in his eyes. “Stay back!”

Virgil swallowed hard and obeyed, stepping back, but craters formed with each step. He backed into something and whirled to see a huge wall sway and fall, crushing those who’d been unlucky enough to be sitting behind it.

“Stop it!” Logan yelled, and his terror had shifted to hatred. “You ruin everything you touch!”

“I don’t-”

“Just hide away, Virgil. Just leave this city, leave your family, hide away where you won’t hurt anyone anymore. You’re a threat to everyone around you, so just go!”

Tears coursed down Virgil’s cheeks. “Lo, please-”

“You are and always have been nothing more than a ticking time bomb, Virgil. Didn’t Sandry teach you that?”

The tall hero froze. Logan no longer sounded like himself. Virgil knew his dearest friend would never mention that, no matter his anger. No one would - except Virgil himself. Logan’s words were Virgil’s own, the ones he directed against himself on all the dark days. The world crumbling at his touch, inadvertent pain against the one he loved? This was his own private nightmare made real. He took a deep breath, in for four counts. Hold for seven. Out for eight.

“I am not a monster,” he whispered to himself. “I have enhanced abilities. I use them to do the best I can to help others. I pull my punches, I take care to not use too much force. I don’t hurt my loved ones. I am a hero because I try to be one, and I succeed at an above-average rate.”

Slowly, the craters fixed themselves, and the wall re-erected itself. The blood and bones vanished off Logan’s arm, and he was now as he had been, frozen, looking with distress off into nothing as his eyes shifted rapidly. Virgil reached out slowly, gently, to brush his shoulder with a feather-light touch. His partner didn’t respond, but neither did he bruise.

Virgil turned, hearing footsteps. He kept breathing evenly, repeating his mantras to himself, and stepped towards the sound of movement. It was Gale Force, Patton, walking evenly through the mist without hesitation.

Patton stepped through the border of light to dark as easy as breathing. It took him almost ten steps before he realized he no longer heard the heroes and his partner on his right. He turned to see them all paralyzed. Roman’s beautiful, radiant red fire had faded. Patton had been around for enough dark days to recognize the despair etched into his love’s face. He almost ran to him when he saw that the Doctor was frozen too, not on his knees but standing. Doctor Vectorious, who was intriguing and infuriating and condescending and so very pretty seemed to shiver and jerk with some internal movement. Even Reflex had paused, looking confused and distressed. His love and his... partners. Not friends. They were coworkers, if that. Nothing more. What had put them in such a state?

He felt a slight weight on his chest. An impression of tears, of bricks and water and twisted metal. He turned, and walked towards the center of the cloud, seeking Agent Whisper. He was sure he was getting closer, he could feel it. And with every step he saw flashes of the past. A dusty courtyard, the Hundredth-of-an-Acre Wood. A lanky child carrying two giggling girls on his back. Phantom hands smacked his and ran away laughing in a game of tag. Two women smiled down at him, hands linked.

Now they shifted. Bruises and blood appeared, torsos were covered in brick. Limbs became maimed and mangled beyond recognition. And voices drifted out of mouths that couldn’t possibly be producing them.

“You should have saved us.”

“Why were you the only one to survive?”

“You let me die.”

Patton lifted a hand casually to push back the clouds and give himself more visibility. Finally, a form in the mist. It seemed to eat the light around it, a human-shaped hole cut out against reality, a black pit that had no eyes to stare at him.

“How?” a voice asked, shrieking in impossibly high and low octaves at once. It was an eagle’s cry and an earthquake’s rumble, unnatural and natural at once. Patton turned to it, and smiled brightly.

“Oh, kiddo, were you trying to make us feel bad? Here’s a fun little factoid for you!” He grunted with effort as he conjured a cone of air, tightly wound and pointed away from his team. His face fell into a dark mask as he sent the tornado hurtling towards the dark form opposing them. “I’ve felt worse.”

The form dodged easily, but backed up. Reflex appeared at Patton’s side, scowling and tensed to attack. The mist started to lift, helped along by Patton’s winds.

Both hero and villain heard a sound that might have been the crack of rock and might have been a swear. Clouds suddenly rushed past them, flowing from their backs towards Agent Whisper. They swirled around them and starting to soar into the air, a column of dark clouds even as the last traces faded from the square. Reflex shot off from the ground, ready to give chase, but in a breath the clouds were gone and out of sight.

“Fuck,” he said, coming back to land. “That was rough. How were you so unaffected?”

“It’s just ghosts,” Patton replied with a shrug. “I’m always surrounded by ghosts. I’m more worried about our partners.”

Reflex nodded, and they both flew over to where Roman and the Doctor were recovering. Patton was immediately kneeling at Roman’s side, rubbing a warm, grounding hand on his lower back.

“I’m here, love,” he whispered. “The dark is gone, you’re safe, and wonderful, and deserving of all the love I could possibly give you and at least twice as much on top of that.”

Roman stirred, slowly uncurling out of the fetal position. “Sunshine?” he asked raspily. “That’s really you?”

“It’s me, my ruby. I’m here. I love you. You deserve that love.”

Roman moved slowly to sitting up, shuddering. Patton continued to rub small, comforting circles on his lower back, the other hand coming up to run through Roman’s silky, dark hair.

“How did it come on so suddenly, Pat?”

“Agent Whisper, sweetness. I guess that’s what the illusions are - a blast of bad emotions, and our brains fill in the rest.”

Roman shivered and nodded. “Makes sense. And I’m already starting to feel better. Thank you, honeybunch. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Virgil half-listened to the villains’ conversation but his main focus was on Logan. He gently touched his arm, still flinching at the idea of accidentally hurting him. But the speedster’s eyes had finally gone back to normal, focusing on Virgil’s face instead of cycling rapidly.

“Vee?” he asked, voice barely audible. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Is this real?”

“Yes, L, it’s real,” Virgil murmured back.

“Can I-” words seemed to fail him, but he lifted his arms enough for Virgil to understand him.

“Of course,” he said, smiling as he wrapped his arms around his friend and partner. Logan hugged back tightly, burying his face in Virgil’s muscled shoulders to avoid knowing if there were tears on his face or not. Virgil hugged tighter, lifting Logan fully into the air and surprising a laugh out of the shorter man.

“Hey! I’m not a child!” he complained, grinning.

“But you are my babe,” Virgil responded, teasing. “My tiny boyfriend.”

Logan blushed a deep red at that. “Oh, yes, I suppose I am.”

“That’s gay,” Roman drawled, standing with Patton’s help. “Dear, look at the heroes, they’re gay.”

“Heroes? More like queeroes!”

Logan’s blush didn’t fade as he glared over. “That was terrible.”

“Is that why you’re laughing internally?” Virgil asked blandly, to Logan’s indignation.

“Hey, don’t out me in front of them!”

“Oh horror of horrors, the nerd might actually have a sense of humor,” Roman said, draping a hand dramatically over his forehead. Color had returned to his golden cheeks, and his eyes were practically crackling with rich hazel energy.

“I’m glad you’re both feeling better,” Virgil said, putting Logan back on his feet. “Even if this Whisper fuck got away again.”

“We know what they’re capable of, now,” Logan said. “We can prepare for next time. Or at least brace ourselves for it.”

Patton nodded. “‘Flex and I are proof it can be overcome. So there’s hope for you two as well.”

“Go home and get some rest, gather your emotional strength,” Virgil advised, slipping his hands into Logan’s grip. “I’ve got a feeling we’ll be called again much sooner than we’d like.”

The villains nodded and flew off together, Roman rocketing ahead of Patton.

“Ladybug, slow down,” Patton complained. “You’re going too fast for me!”

“You’re going too slow!” Roman cried happily, looping in circles high and low. “God, I can’t believe how much better I feel now that we’re away from that creep!” He laughed and created a glowing red surfboard. He stood on it and balanced with exaggerated outspread hands, conjuring a huge red wave that crashed over Patton as he flew through the air still. He giggled, and the wave crashed into an explosion of butterflies and ruby wings sprouted from his back.

“Ro, come on, let’s go home,” Patton pleaded. “We can bring the butterflies if you want.”

“Butterflies are old news,” Roman replied, snapping his fingers. The forms around him melted into a huge dragon that carried him on its back as it blew sparkling fire.

“Roro, please!”

“No, not a dragon. A witch!” Roman cried, unhearing. “No, both!” Crackles of energy sparked as the dragon shifted and twisted into a dragon-witch complete with crystalline hat.

Patton sighed. The emotional manipulation had triggered a manic phase, and there was no reasoning with Ro when he was in mania’s throes. He turned in mid-air and flew to their home alone, trusting that his love would come find him when he’d calmed.

Roman flew, creating and destroying and creating anew until the sun started to fade. When the light in the sky began to match the red light of his constructs, he looked up at the clouds and thought of Patton. His love, his salvation, his partner in crime. Literally. Not that they’d been caught more than the one time.

He flew lower, just above the rooftops, finally traveling at normal speeds once more. Just as the forced low had been brief, his uncontrollable high was resolving faster than normal, too. He sheepishly contemplated the apologies he would need to make to his partner for worrying him and leaving him behind when he’d soared into the sky.

He floated down to earth to walk the last few blocks home. He stepped off into a dark alley to change back into civilian clothes.

If only he’d looked a bit harder at the shadows.

~~~~~~~~~~

D.R.E.A.M. Index #337403 Classification: M.1.ii [Primary Tier Neutral, Acquired Powers] Name: Ghost/Nebula Status: ACTIVE Civilian Name: [CLEARANCE: CONFIDENTIAL] Lulu Ador Affiliation: Neutral /////////H.A.T.C.H. Status: Blackout Only Partners/Sidekicks: #337471; #337402 Primary Foes: #337402 Powers: Shadow Teleportation; Psionic Construction [Star Sprites] /////////As Ghost, can travel through any shadow to any other; As Nebula, can summon star-sprites who are directed by her thoughts Costume: Tailored suit in a galaxy print and bow tie with a matching mask Age: 27 Height: 5’7 Pronouns: She/Her H.E.A.R.T.S. Class ‘10 Note: Valedictorian of her class, on similar caliber to DI#337255 - Doctor Vectorious. Ghost appears to be almost like possession, while Nebula is the 'true' form. When as Nebula, she is a hero, albeit one frustrated with the overly-physical nature of typical heroing due to her fibro. Classified as neutral because any given day she may be one or the other

D.R.E.A.M. Index #337402 Classification: Z.2.i [Secondary Tier Villain, Legacy] Name: Lovely Darling Status: ACTIVE Civilian Name: [CLEARANCE: CONFIDENTIAL] Danielle Disney Affiliation: Villain Partners/Sidekicks: #337403 Primary Foes: #337403 Powers: Mesmerizing; Power of Suggestion; Forced Infatuation /////////Anyone within a radius of approximately 10 yards is susceptible; focus on a particular person makes it more compelling and longer-lasting Costume: Purple and pink ballgown with a hoop skirt; heart-shaped mask Age: 26 Height: 5’7 Pronouns: She/Her H.E.A.R.T.S. Class ‘11 Note: Teams up with DI#337403 - Ghost/Nebula and feuds with her in equal measure, depending on how much her current scheme might affect others

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a/n: Spot the Steven Universe reference! There's also a Firefly quote in there. Partly an homage to one of the other possible names for this fic as a whole, ‘Big Damn Heroes’

(Fanfic writing, aka, finding ways to sneak in references to other fandoms and also inserting your friends in as background characters <3)