#this woman does not know if she wants to be Jaheira or be with Jaheira

[menzoberranzanprincess]

Despite thinking shes a tad odd Minthara does deeply respects Jaheira not as an elder, shes older than her I think, but just as a person. She made a space for herself in the world, has a family and a people who love her despite her being how she is. The druid is a force to be reckoned with yet has more patience than Minthara thought she'd have. In a world where she stays topside Minthara may hope she eventually turns out kind of like Jaheira, though still a bit prickly.

[mactiir]

ranking baldur's gate characters by how i think they smell

#9) Minthara. Because she’s a corpse, next question.

#8) Lae'zel. You know this woman has never bathed. Washing is for the weak, is'tik. She says this is because needs her musk to attract mates but mostly it's cuz Gith education doesn't exactly make time for personal hygiene. Once it got so bad that Tav dragged the whole party through a chest-deep stream and stood there for 20 minutes to take a "breather" while Laezel stared daggers at them the whole time.

#7) Karlach. I want Karlach to smell nice so badly, and Karlach probably wants Karlach to smell nice too, but you know this woman smells like brimstone and engine exhaust and sweat. On good days she smells like the fine char you get on burgers on a summer day. On bad days she smells like a truck stop at peak hours, and the truck stop is also on fire. She's not happy about this either.

#6) Gale. Gale tries to keep himself groomed, he really does. But he looks like he is perpetually just a tiny bit smelly. Like he hyperfocused on a book slightly too hard for slightly too long and as a result he forgot to shower for a week. He acts like he bedded Mystra because of his towering intellect but really it's cuz gods don't have human senses of smell. His nightshirt looks velvet, too, and you KNOW it can't be easy to get smells out of that shit without a washer. He is one of those poor guys who is cursed to always stink a little bit no matter how much he showers. When Tav confronts him about this he decides, on the spot, that deodorant is for anti-intellectuals, actually, which he wouldn't have expected Tav to know but it's okay, we can't all be enlightened.

#5) Minsc. He doesn't reek exactly, but you know he's 100% man musk, hamster bedding, and butt-kicking

Tied for #5) Jaheira. You know 100 years of living in forests and adventuring with Minsc has endowed her with exactly the same level of manly perfume as Minsc (except with notes of cedarwood).

#4) Wyll. He used to be the best-smelling until Mizora pulled him through every level of hell in rapid succession, and now he smells a little bit like brimstone all the time. He sometimes rubs fragrant herbs on his horns to counteract it, which doesn't get rid of the smell, really, but it gives his smell an interesting dimension. Otherwise, he has enough experience with adventuring, and is well-bred enough, that him and his things are usually well-groomed (and also because his dad was a freak about it).

#3) Shadowheart. This woman puts on tragic makeup every morning and changes her hair to reflect her religion. Appearances are EVERYTHING (especially when it comes to keeping secrets). Shadowheart smells exactly like she thinks she needs to smell to be religiously pleasing to her goddess and/or coMplEtE thE mIsSioN. She does get anxious sweats though, which are very distinctive if it's been a long day of adventuring. She never admits this, though. Ever.

#2) Astarion. Okay, so, sometimes, he smells just the teensiest, tiniest bit like dried blood. But mostly, he smells like baby powder and potpourri. It is a waste of good fashion sense and his pretty face to go about stinking like a beggar. (He does go through a brief 'Cazador can't tell ME what to do' phase where he stops bathing for a day, but he grosses himself out so much that he resumes his normal routime before anyone notices.)

#1) Halsin. You'd expect him to stink, with his whole smelly-hippy free-love vibe, but nah. The man smells heavenly. He spends all his time frolicking through fragrant herbs and lounging in scented hot springs with whomever strikes his fancy. He probably has a whole ass medicine cabinet full of stuff he uses to freshen up. His breath probably smells like mint and his hair like cedar. He probably puts coconut oil or smth in his hair. He knows how to smell good as literally any animal in the realms. Wanna know why? Dogs have a sense of smell several thousand times better than people. I bet bears do, too. You do Not Fuck As A Bear without understanding not only how to WASH your ass, but also perfume it. Halsin also knows: thou shalt not give yeast infections. And if you got bear dick, that means HYGIENE. It's a point of pride for him, actually.

BONUS: WITHERS. Withers smells like nothing. Like, freakishly, unsettlingly like nothing. Like, you expect him to smell like dust or pitch or smth. Nope. He's a black hole of smell. You come near him and if you ask, he resets your entire hygiene routine for 100 gold and leaves you smelling like roses.

[thecubspeaks]

[there is no one at work and i've been wanting to poke at this idea... i have no idea where the plot would actually go except in the broadest strokes, so who knows if there will be more]

Karlach cries when Jaheira presses the harp-shaped pin into her hand. 

She’s been crying at everything since emerging from Avernus, it’s honestly getting embarrassing. Sunsets, sunrises, grass, a guy selling cabbages, some kids playing a game in the street. 

Obviously she cries when Wyll sets off– she cries about ten times on their last night together, which very quickly becomes a very drunk last night– like, singing-on-the-roof-of-the-Elfsong drunk. Not that it’s the last last: they will see each other again, but Karlach needs to be in Baldur’s Gate for a little bit and Wyll needs anything but, and he’s given up enough for her so she’d never ask him to stay, badly as she wants him to.

She takes a couple days after that to just be. She wanders the city, she eats all the food she missed, she scares the hells out of Dammon turning up unannounced and they both cry yet again. She calls on every friend she ever had: Rolan and his siblings (Lia’s a Flaming Fist now!), Alfira and Lakrissa (not married yet, but possibly finally together? Still hard to tell), Fitz and the baby (not a baby now, he’s walking around and can almost hold a conversation), Danis and Bex (who have a baby now, too), Barcus and his pals– hells, she even stops in at the Guildhall. Cries at all of them.

She buys fruit on the Wide and visits the House of Wonders, because she’s a fucking hero of Baldur’s Gate and best mates with the Grand Duke’s son, so she can actually go to the Upper City now. Doesn’t spend much time there, though. There’s too much to do in the Lower City. She spends a day hanging out by the docks. She considers Sharess’s Caress, but loses her nerve. She haggles with street vendors in Little Calimshan. She visits her parents. Definitely cries there. She lays in the grass in Bloomridge Park for an entire day, even when it starts pouring rain. Then she catches a stonking cold, and spends a few more days in bed, luxuriating in the knowledge that she can just lie around feeling sorry for herself and a bunch of imps aren’t going to try to stab her in the neck while she’s sneezing. She has a big, snotty cry about that, too. 

When she’s well enough to not turn Jaheira’s place into a plague pit, she makes her way there, the last and accidentally delayed stop on her list. She hasn’t really made it past the Blushing Mermaid in this direction. She tries not to look at the statue of Balduran in the square– pity that, of all fucking things, didn’t get destroyed– and as she’s thinking it, resisting the urge to look at that face, she stumbles into someone.

She laughs at once– looking the way she does, you’ve got to let people know right away you don’t mean any harm– and hold up her hands in apology before she’s even fully turned around. “Sorry, mate, I wasn’t–”

She stops. The woman, dressed in a plain black gown, is brushing herself off with visible irritation. “Watching where you were going? Yes, obviously.” She looks up, and her frown deepens. “Why are you staring?” 

Karlach blurts it out despite herself, despite knowing what a bad idea it is. “Shadowheart?” 

Her eyes flash wide in surprise, then she quickly composes herself. “Is that supposed to be a name?” She gives her skirt one final flick– she’s wearing gloves, so Karlach can’t see if the wound is still there on the back of her hand, but why wouldn’t it be? 

The ache of grief and guilt is so sudden and strong, Karlach feels sick. She can’t speak, can’t say anything as Shadowheart gives her a last disdainful look, mutters something about people with more muscle than sense, and stalks away. Karlach sinks right down onto the plinth, sitting there at Balduran’s feet. This is a very different wanting to cry than all the other crying she’s been doing. This is– all the things she hasn’t been thinking about. The people she hasn’t seen, because she can’t bear to see them. This is two fucking years for guilt over what he did– what they did– to curdle into certainty that it was the wrong fucking choice. 

She’s never stopped thinking about it, even in Avernus where you couldn’t ever lose focus, had to sleep with one eye open and keep your mind ten steps ahead. Even in the midst of all that, her shitty old brain found time to remind her constantly, constantly, of the look on Shadowheart’s face as the Mother Superior and those creepy, evil masked Sharrans dragged her away. The look on Jaheira’s face as she stared down Astarion, like she might spit at his feet. Wyll and Astarion shouted at each other for what felt like hours that night, until Karlach and Gale just had to drag them off to separate corners of the camp.  

And there was so much left to do, so much they needed each other for. So they just never spoke of it again. 

They hadn’t killed her. Was that a comfort? 

And on the other hand, they had killed her, hadn’t they. They’d killed Shads, Fringe, the spiky heart with a soft centre that Karlach knew, wanted so badly to know better. There was nothing in those eyes, in a mind they’d probably had to wipe clean half a dozen times since Karlach saw her last. Since Karlach just let them take her away. 

I’m not usually one for making the first move, she’d said. But then again, you haven’t exactly been quiet about wanting some companionship tonight. So… shall we give this upgrade a trial run?

And she’d grinned and said, Oh fuck yes. 

And Shadowheart had laughed, just the smallest bit, and said, Let’s just not go announcing it to the whole camp.

So they never told anyone. 

She’s half in a daze still as she walks to Jaheira’s place, knocks on the door. She can hear the noise of all the kids tearing around inside. One she’s never seen before, an absolutely miniscule little halfling, opens the door and stares up at her with huge eyes and huge rosy cheeks like two apples. 

“Hi,” Karlach says. The kid is so small, it’s really not helping her feel more anchored in reality. “Is your mum in?” 

The halfling takes in a long, deep breath that puffs up her whole little chest, then yells impossibly loudly, “JAHEIRAAAAA!” 

“How many times, Cheska?” scolds Rion’s voice from somewhere inside, but then she, too, is shouting, “Mother! One of your mysterious friends come to call, apparently!” 

Coming here always feels like a flash of a life she could have had, and that’s really not something she needs layered on top of her present state of mind. She almost just turns and leaves right then, but Jaheira’s there at the door before she can, and must see something in her face, because she hauls Karlach right into her study and shuts the door. Then she stops short, her hands on Karlach’s shoulders.

“Let me look at you,” she says. There’s an unignorable waver in her voice.

“Jaheira,” Karlach says warningly. “I’m a fucking faucet these days, so if you start, you’ll never get me to stop. And I just…” 

“Just what?” Jaheira prompts, and seems very glad to get to move past the moment of near-miss vulnerability. “You do not look nearly as happy as I expected you to. How long have you been back?”

“Just over a tenday,” Karlach says. “I meant to come sooner, honest, but–” 

Jaheira cuts her off with a laugh and a wave of her hand. “You needn’t make excuses to me, of all people! Rion would tell me I am getting my just desserts. But come, sit. Tell me what’s the matter, cub.” 

A voice in Karlach’s head that sounds suspiciously like Rion’s points out that clearly, Jaheira is bored. She wouldn’t be home in the first place otherwise. But that can be true at the same time as it can be true that Jaheira cares. About Karlach, about all of them. 

About Shadowheart. 

Karlach takes a breath.

“I just saw Shadowheart.”

Something goes dark in Jaheira’s expression, like a shutter drawn over her eyes. Karlach should wait to see what she has to say, but– well, Karlach’s always been impatient, and talked too much, and two more years in Avernus isn’t about to change that. “How did I let that happen, Jaheira? How did I just– stand there? It was like… it was like I was in Avernus all over again, in Zariel’s court, just watching horrible things happen and telling myself I was powerless to stop them, so it was more important to keep myself alive.” 

“Astarion was in no place to be a leader then, and we should have been quicker to see it.” Jaheira sinks into a chair next to Karlach’s. Karlach knows she was angry about it once– she saw it herself– but it sounds like all that anger has burned away with time and just left weariness behind. 

“I guess we were so used to just letting him do the talking,” Karlach says, not that the thought consoles her. “And I was so proud of him, after everything with Cazador, freeing those other spawn. I really thought he’d just– keep making the right choices.” 

“No one makes the right choice every time,” Jaheira says. “And Astarion is better at hiding his grief than most. He was far less at peace with what he chose than he wished us to know. And Shadowheart paid the price for our inattentiveness.” 

Karlach shakes her head. “I should have seen. I should have done something. It wasn’t too late to fight.”  “You are finally free,” Jaheira says firmly. “Do not turn around and cage yourself in regrets. We were none of us thinking clearly then, with the weight of the world on our shoulders– you, with the spectre of your own death always at your heels.”

“It’s because I’m free that I have to think about her!” Karlach retorts. “I get to be free. We condemned her forever.”

Funny, to get angry and not feel the literal rush of flames engulfing her. It’s just a normal heat– well, probably still a bit hotter than normal, but not literal sparks at the edges of her vision, and– in those last tendays– not the ominous clunking and whirring that said she’d started to push too hard. But it was never just the engine that got her heated up. 

“You’ve had all this time to make your peace with it, but I’ve never stopped thinking about her! I don’t regret anything more in my whole fucking life. We did so much good, and none of it even matters to me because I just think of that one evil, evil thing we let him do. That we did. I need to–” The idea’s words before it’s an idea, she says it without entirely knowing what she’s saying ‘til it’s said. “I have to do something. She’s still alive. I have to help her.” 

“I should have guessed you would say something like that.” Jaheira stands up. She goes to her desk and starts to rummage through it. “I know you know the stories, so it will sound strange to you, but you remind me very much of Khalid. You have the same heart. The same passion, though you wear it differently. Nothing can crush your kindness, after a life that would have ground all the good out of most. You cannot bear injustice, despite all the injustices done to you.” She finds what she’s looking for and straightens up. She plants both hands on the desk and fixes Karlach with a long, level, unwavering look. “You know I do not say this lightly. And you also know it is not entirely a compliment. He had– you have– the true heart of a Harper.” 

Karlach’s jaw drops. She’s just staring like an idiot but she doesn’t know what to say. There’s nothing to say, how is she supposed to respond to that? Jaheira thinks that she–

“I have spent the past months,” Jaheria says, “determining how the House of Grief can be brought down. There is unsettled business between Viconia and myself, and I have allowed her to prey for too long on the city’s lost and hopeless. And I–” Her voice falters, almost imperceptibly. “I saw her, too. A few months ago. She must have been given some mission outside of the cloister. But that will be our opportunity.” 

“How’s that? Burn it down when she’s away?”

“We must be spies before we can be soldiers,” Jaheira says with a crooked smile. “They are too well-versed in secrecy. We must have someone on the inside, and none of my Harpers have had any success. There is only one person.” Jaheira splays out her hand. The silver harp glints in her outstretched palm. “When Shadowheart sees a glimpse of light, she reaches for it. They cannot crush this out of her no matter how hard they try. You have shown her before. I know you can do it again.” 

She cries when Jaheira presses the pin into her hand. 

[atsadi-shenanigans]

FSBE 14 - We're All Children of Jesus

You have a confession.

On AO3.

By the time you’re done talking (and plus a “magic” ring that seems to be a flaking “gold” ring, all copper underneath) and gone to join the others, Wyll done went and slammed back some kinda truth potion. Tea. Thing. Holds eye contact with this Jaheira lady the whole time he does it, too, while Shadowheart’s face goes flat in a distinctly disapproving way, and Astarion outright rolls his eyes.

But this Jaheira lady—Karlach says she’s a druid—seems to like that. Her thin eyebrow cocks in what you think might be amusement.

Then she starts talking and you’re real glad Wyll took one for the team here. He’s a good guy. Young, earnest, and ridiculously charming.

Cause the news she shares, it sucks real fucking hard.

The Absolute cult is here all right, holed up in a tower fortress, led by an invincible old man Jaheira says she shot through the eye. She don’t seem like she’s exaggerating, neither (and huh, she’s gotta be speaking Faerunian with an accent, because the dirt potion apparently decides in your brain that she’s, what, Hispanic?). Oh, and they have a fucking army. That they’re planning on marching to Baldur’s Gate.

Y’all been tromping around out here in the sticks. You still don’t got a good grasp on population density or how big these people consider a city to be. Ancient Rome held about a million people, you think. But all that’s peanuts compared to modern cities. You flew into Phoenix, Arizona one time on your way up north, and that fucker stretched from one horizon to the next, like a carpet of brown moss between the hills.

Jaheira seems a decent person. Worried about the people around her. And she don’t shoot none of y’all through the fucking eye, so that’s a bonus. Though she does threaten to knife y’all if it turns out you’re here for culty shenanigans. You can respect that.

She also mentions something about Mr. Invincible, General Thorm, and a former army of something called “dark justiciars.” Y’all ran into a dead one on the road, if you remember right, and your gaze slides over to Shadowheart. Who watches like somebody reading Moby Dick out loud in the world’s flattest monotone.

Except you been around her a while, now. Enough to pick up on the shift. A vibe. A cat that done spotted a hummingbird outside the window.

And it occurs to you that brainworms aside she…might be a threat.

You try not to blame a whole religion for what was done to you. And to others. And to your mother. Your father. Grandfather. Entire line of ancestors and all Natives and Black people and women and each fucking other—

You take a breath.

Some people of that persuasion use it for good. Build houses for poor people until they’re ninety-fucking-years old. But some people have and will use it for the most vile shit the human imagination ever fever-dreamed up. And if somebody is inclined to vileness, or induced to it, it’s the perfect set of both shield and blinders.

How much of Shadowheart wants them brainworms out, and how much of her might look at an invincible fanatic and decide her goals might be better met with him?

The cleric turns to you, as if she knows. You fumble for your brainworm, slap around to make sure your thoughts ain’t leaking, and you look back to Jaheira.

Right as the woman says, “The artifact protects you. You can gain passage as a True Soul. Find what makes him invincible and strip him of it. And once he has been made vulnerable, we can take them all down.”

It takes a second. Cause it unfolds in your head like a kaleidoscope of razor-sharp lines.

She needs spies. Saboteurs. A man (or several) on the inside. Of a brainworm cult. And y’all got them worms without being pushed into the dirt by a Big Bitch Voice.

It’s clear. Perfect. Almost makes your eyes water, it’s so fucking clean.

All as bile claws up your throat and your stomach gives a tight lurch.

“Any cure starts with understanding the disease,” Jaheira says. Which is true. “The magic protecting Thorm must be in Moonrise Tower.”

Infiltrate a psychic cult. Pass as one of them.

Astarion glances over and you can’t meet his gaze. Can feel the ghost of his frown, though.

She says stuff about a cleric of their own and protection from the darkness and blah blah blah. You can’t hear over the hornet’s nest buzzing between your ears.

Then she leaves y’all to it. Invites y’all to some rest and vittles. Stock up and take a breather. You got half a mind to snag yourself a wine bottle and guzzle down enough your head calms down. Then remember how that shit burns on the way back up and decide it ain’t worth the small window of happy oblivion.

They got two rooms upstairs. Y’all will probably split it boy-girl.

But first, y’all need to Plan.

“No magic can put this Form together after I’ve smashed open his skull,” Lae’zel says over the bar.

“Thorm,” Shadowheart corrects, without any blade to it at all. “And that sounds like exactly what he’ll do.”

Lae’zel lifts her chin. “Then I will do it again.”

“This sort of magic tends to be very powerful,” Gale says.

“I will split his skull as many times as is required.”

“Much as I do like a good head-cracking,” Karlach says, “I’m with Sparkles here.”

The wizard coughs into his goblet of wine. “Sparkles?”

You heard he got something like a cat but he insists ain’t a cat, and you also heard that people with a pet for a long time tend to start looking like it. You’re pretty sure whatever a tressym is, it’s a fucking cat, based on the face the man makes.

“Yeah! You got them…” Karlach holds out her hands and wiggles her fingers. Magical jazz hands.

Gale takes another drink, muttering into his cup. Something about “archmage.”

“Part of any successful hunt is knowing the terrain,” Wyll says. “It would be incredibly worthwhile to get in there.”

“The Blade of Frontiers wants to lie his way into a den of illithid-infected, mind-reading cultists?” Shadowheart says, slipping her chained ponytail off one shoulder. You wonder, idly, if it ever snags and tugs one hair on her scalp the way your braid used to do when you had long hair. Fuck long hair. “Have much experience with that, do you?”

“Cults, no. But I’ve been chained to a devil since I was seventeen.”

Karlach frowns. Mutters, “Fucking bitch.”

“That’s something entirely different,” Shadowheart says. “Who here even has experience with gods or their followers?”

The countertop looks like it was carved outta a solid piece of wood. The edges are all knobby. You trace your finger along the picked-at bark and imagine a squirrel once followed that same path up to a cache.

“If I may remind you, I was the chosen of Mystra herself,” Gale says.

“And you did such a fine job, she’s tasked you with blowing yourself up,” Shadowheart says.

Wyll opens his mouth, but it’s Astarion who says, “As if you wouldn’t leap at the chance to do the same should your lady order you.”

Man’s been quiet the whole time, content to sit beside you and clean his daggers. That he jumps in now, for Gale, slams the brakes on the entire conversation.

“And out of the entire pantheon,” he says, “I think perhaps only a few would be less likely to command some grand, sanctimonious suicide than that, Sharran.”

Shadowheart focuses on him, gaze sharp. “I take it you have some great insight into the gods, then, Astarion? Funny. I’ve never heard you praying.”

“Oh, I prayed to them all. Multiple times. Every one I could remember. None of them answered.”

You close your eyes. Bow your head. Ain’t sure if the others hear in his voice what you do. They wasn’t in his head (on accident) when fish people was peeling him open. Didn’t feel his horror. His pain. And even worse, the resignation to it. Part of him, a lot of him in the moment, just accepted that he deserved it.

You spent hours, days on your knees in prayer. Years in prayer. That you would be good. Be worthy. Be enough. And it never mattered. Not once. Always dirty. Always unclean and rotten, stupid and lazy. A willing whore, but for the benevolent vigilance of the congregation, fighting against your natural inclination as a bride of the devil. On account of being born in sin, and an Indian at that; everybody knows Indian girls can’t keep their legs closed.

The lord ain’t never answered you.

Sasha did. Her friends and her people did. Your family did, once they found you again. Even though none of them could fully understand it, they all tried. Not because some holy man ordered it. Not to avoid an eternity burning alive in a lake of fire. But because they thought it right.

You got out. You got away. You fucking ran.

You wonder if Astarion ever got that chance before.

Yet here you are again. Trapped between permanent squid-face, and infiltrating a psychic army of brainwormed believers.

“I,” you start. Feel attention shift to you and nearly dive off your barstool to sprint for the door. Them shadows seem real accepting. But you know Astarion is looking at you, even as numbness starts to creep up your fingers. “I grew up. In a religious cult.”

And fuck you. There it is. Went and spilled that one all over everybody like projectile vomit. Classy.

“I thought you said your world didn’t have gods?” Gale says. Bless his poor heart.

There’s that cold spot again. To your right, this time. Don’t gotta look up to know Shadowheart stares.

“We don’t,” you say. Fuck this world and everybody in it, they will pry that conviction outta your cold, dead hands. And since your soul is stuck in a jar, maybe not even then. “But that don’t mean we don’t got believers.”

Wyll catches your gaze. There’s knowing in his eyes. He’s piecing together what you told him after that fucking bitch Mizora showed up to jerk his chain.

“So three of us possibly able to infiltrate this fortress,” Gale says.

“Four,” Astarion says.

Gale’s mouth opens. Closes. Wyll glances between you two and frowns softly.

“I mean, he is a damned good liar,” Karlach says. “No offense, Fangs.”

“None taken, darling, though I wouldn’t exactly call it lying.”

“How long did you keep your undead nature from us?” Gale says.

“According to you, it was apparent from the start. And none of you asked. There is a difference between lying and saying nothing at all.”

Lae’zel spits out what’s gotta be a githyanki curse. The dirt potion don’t translate it. It’s gotta be tied to Faerun, somehow. The perception of the people from here. Maybe the people who brewed it? Isn’t it nice to think about something else?

And that leaves…

It’s almost amusement, what Shadowheart wears. If something that condescending could be called amusement. “How long were you with your own god or goddess?”

Fuck. You was getting along. She’s been looking out for you. Then y’all got here, and she got fucking mind-whammied by her faith, and it’s like being back to square one. She was all closed off and sniping. She sees you as a threat, don’t she? You seen this before. With the newer ones to the farmstead, sometimes. Fresh converts is always the worst. Don’t matter what kinda person she is. Don’t matter how nice she is to you at first. Her allegiance is to her goddess, and if she sees you as the enemy, if her god deems you that enemy, she’ll kill any decency she might have felt for you in the name of what she’s told.

“Long enough to make it out and stay out,” you say.

It ain’t quite cruelty sparkling in her eyes. Just smugness, you think. You hope.

“And you think that’s enough to get you inside? They can read minds.”

So could the Pastor, through the lord. Or that’s what y’all earnestly believed.

Yet, in hindsight, you didn’t lose your faith all in one swoop down in that root cellar, holding a piece of glass. You didn’t even fully lose it until years after.

No. It’d been in your head for months, since Mother started talking about finding you a husband. It’d been there for years, maybe. A niggling thought. Disgruntlement, sure. But in between raving about the lord returning in fire with the sword to cleanse the world of sin, the Pastor would tell bible stories. The virgin birth. The letters of Paul. Some of the gospel, in the early days, before that got eaten by hellfire. People was kind, in them stories. Kind to adulteresses and whores, who were the worst things a person could be.

But the farmstead had no kindness for you or the other girls it deemed filthy, which was all of you on rotation. Though it called what it did to y’all as a result a kindness. Pain now for salvation later.

No, you’d been doubting for some time before that night you ran through darkened fields towards the old pickup truck sitting quiet in the road. You’d spent years hiding it from even yourself. Months spent hiding it (you thought) from the lord who knew all, and the Pastor his chosen to whom he told all.

“I fooled my mother for years,” you say. “And she was second in command. I think I can handle a single day up in that tower.”

[pagesfromthevoid]

Sparks Fly | r. | V

Rolan x Sorceress!Tav

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: Mentions of death, drinking, Astarion and Shovel being shits

Author's Note: Okay okay last one for today, because I need to finish the next part anyway.

Series Masterlist | Talk to Me!

It’s hard to tell when the day has ended in the Shadow Cursed Lands. Rolan knows, realistically, it is probably close to sun down outside the shadows. And what little light can be seen through the shadows suggest such. But that doesn’t make it any easier knowing what time it is –other than knowing when he woke up this morning, the Harpers were leading a march to Moonrise and Jaheira was ordering him to be ready if the fight came to the inn. He knows he has been ready for hours, watching the bursts of light from the towers to the east, waiting for the worst to strike.

He can’t decide what the “worst” is, however.

It should probably be the fighting making its way to Last Light, if he’s honest. It should be him having to fight against cultists and ghouls and shadows to protect the lives of the people who were left defenseless, alongside his siblings and anyone else who could fight. 

However, in the back of his mind, Rolan is worried that the “worst” is Tav being brought back to the inn, dead. Or not being brought back at all.

He doesn’t know how he will react if that happens. He does know that he spent most of the night cursing himself for not kissing her when he had the chance, however. Spent the night wishing he had done more than hold her hands –had made the first move, instead of her doing so. Rolan thinks of himself as cowardly –how can he expect himself to be a great wizard one day if he cannot even muster up the courage to kiss the woman he’s been pining for, when it was so clear she wanted him to?

Rolan resolves to remedy that the first chance he has, even if it’s just one kiss. Even if they part ways and never see one another again –he wants to kiss her. So she needs to come back safely, and alive.

Tav has left behind some of her companions: the Blade of Frontiers, Wyll, as well as his tiefling companion, Karlach. The druid Halsin is there as well, with a drow woman that Rolan has never seen before, but seems to exude a dangerous aura around her. Rolan doesn’t bother asking who she is; either he’ll find out later or he won’t, and it won’t matter one way or another. The cleric Isobel is still protecting the inn, and everyone else who can use a sword or bow or anything is at the ready.

Should the fight come to them, Rolan feels a bit more reassured that not everyone will die.

Perhaps it is hours, or maybe it’s the following day already –Rolan can’t tell –but there’s shouting coming from the bridge and he finds himself gathering his strength to meet whatever it is head on. If Tav has fallen, then he needs to do the next right thing and ensure the inn remains as safe as possible. 

Except, as he approaches the bridge, the shouts are not battle cries –but celebrations. Cal and Lia are at his side now, grabbing onto both of his sleeves like they once did when they were little and scared. The githyanki, Lae’Zel, is who he sees first, then Gale and the cleric, Shadowheart. They’re all battered, bloody and bruised –covered in the aftermath of a fight. What Rolan doesn’t see is Tav, who is missing from her companions, and his heart feels like someone is crushing it beneath a rock.

Lia seems to feel the same. “Where’s Tav?” she asks, voice quivering. Her grip on his sleeve tightens, and Rolan puts a careful hand over hers in reassurance.

“What’s that?” Cal suddenly exclaims, pointing at the sky as a ray of light flashes through the air and lands at the edge of the inn. 

Rolan readies his quarterstaff, but no one else seems half as worried as he is. From the shadows appears the most…terrifyingly beautiful woman he’s ever seen. Her skin is almost stone white, but streaked in gold. Her armor glows unnaturally, almost divinely, and the wings that fold into her back are the purest white. Rolan has never seen anything like her before.

And in her arms is Tav, covered in blood with her robes torn all over. Her eyes are closed, and Rolan feels the boulder crushing his heart further. 

Rolan wants to step forward, wants to take her from whoever this divine being is, but Karlach has beaten him to the punch and is taking Tav in her arms. Then the being takes off once more into the sky, disappearing into the shadows. Isobel is moving into the inn herself, wordlessly following what Rolan thinks might have been Selûne herself, and Shadowheart is ordering Karlach to take Tav into the inn, to lay her down.

“Is she…?” Cal whispers, releasing his hold on Rolan’s arm and following behind the group as they move into the inn. 

“I don’t know,” Rolan admits, following close behind his brother. Lia is still holding onto him like she’s going to get lost if she lets go.

“She’s alive,” Jaheira’s voice cuts in, walking up to Rolan as they make their way inside. “A bit worse for wear –but if it’s any consolation, she wasn’t knocked out because she took a hit from Ketheric.”

Rolan’s brows knit together and he looks at the druid in confusion. “What happened then?”

Jaheira laughs –actually laughs, too, not just some wry cackle like it usually is when she’s being sarcastic. “Poor girl was so excited to greet us that she tripped and hit her head on the stairs leaving Moonrise.”

Lia’s grip loosens and she drops her hand, letting out a surprised gasp. “Oh my gods.”

For some reason, Rolan is…not surprised by this, actually. In the short time he has known Tav, he has seen her trip and fall more times than he can count on one hand. Knocking herself out because she was excited seems almost entirely on par –and entirely normal of her.

“She’ll wake up here soon,” Jaheira reassures. “This is the most she’s slept in days, anyway. It’s probably good for her.”

Rolan is inclined to agree.

*****

“You think she’s gonna have amnesia or something when she wakes up?”

“Karlach, darling, that’s highly unlikely.”

“But what if she forgets us!”

Tav can hear them –Astarion and Karlach –bickering about her memories. She’s tempted to pretend, but the ache in her head is preventing her from thinking longer than a few seconds. Instead, she slowly blinks open her eyes, adjusting to the light around her. Her body isn’t nearly as sore as it was before she tripped. Though, she’s certain between potions and Isobel and Shadowheart, it’s because she’s been healed. 

“Can’t a girl get some sleep around here?” She asks, voice groggy as she tries to sit up. But someone –Shadowheart –is pushing her back down. 

“Don’t overdo it,” the cleric warns, though Tav is pushing against her and sitting up regardless. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I bashed my head against a rock.”

“You technically did,” Astarion offers, grinning at her as he leans forward in his chair. “Took quite the little tumble there, Anastasiya.”

“Fuck off,” she groans, banging the back of her head against the bed frame.

“Stop that,” Shadowheart orders, putting her hand behind Tav’s head to cushion the blow. “Astarion, be useful. Go get her some water.”

“Or wine –,”

“No wine.”

Tav groans again, slumping against the bedframe and crossing her arms over her chest. Shadowheart gives her a narrowed eyed look, warning her to stay in bed and that the cleric will be right back. Karlach winks, saying she’ll sneak Tav some wine later on and quickly follows Shadowheart. Now Tav is just sitting alone in a bed, in the inn, staring at the cracks in the wall in front of her –until a knock pulls her attention to the doorway.

Her heart lurches some at the sight of Rolan, who is standing awkwardly there. Tav smiles at him –a bit sleepily, if anything –but beckons him to come inside and tells him to pull up a chair. As he does so, Tav watches him closely, thankful that he remained safe as well. Not a scratch on him –well, no new ones, at least. His tail is twitching behind him, and Tav wonders why that is. Karlach’s twitches when she’s nervous, or excited, but she doesn’t know if its the same for all tieflings or just something unique to Karlach.

She decides not to ask right now, though.

“How’re you holding up?” She asks, and Rolan stares at her like she has three heads. “What?”

“I should be asking you that, Miss Anastasiya,” he points out, shaking his head. “You are the one who just stormed a cult and took down a god.”

Tav simply shrugs though. “I didn’t do it alone.”

“No,” he agrees, leaning back in his chair. “No, you didn’t. But that doesn’t mean you didn’t nearly kill yourself in the process.”

“Actually, I was pretty okay after the fight, all things considered. It was those damn stairs that got me.”

“I heard,” he grins, and Tav can’t help but notice how his eyes crinkle in the corners when he does that. “How is it that you can fight a god, but trip over your own feet?”

“A fantastic question –I’ll let you know when I figure it out.”

He laughs, and Tav is reminded of the night of the party. How he laughed then at his siblings, and how she knew it was a bad idea.

But bad ideas be damned when you’re facing the possible end of the world.

“You’re handsome when you laugh,” she tells him, head cocked to the side some as she does. She appreciates that, even though he’s already a lovely blush red in pallor, she can see the blush darken on his cheeks. “You should do it more.”

“I…will endeavor to try,” he relents, leaning forward now to get closer to her. Tav can feel the heat that radiates off him, and even though the curse has been lifted, it’s still cold in the inn. So she beckons him closer, reaching out to take his hand. Rolan doesn’t hesitate this time, lacing his fingers with hers.

“You’re very warm,” she points out, though she’s sure he knows that. “Karlach runs hot because of her engine –like, burn your skin off hot. But are all tieflings naturally warm?”

Rolan nods, running his thumb over the back of her hand. “That is what happens when you’re ‘touched by the Hells.’”

Silence falls between them for a moment as Tav simply stares at him with her head cocked. Rolan’s eyes are on their hands, though, and she can’t quite figure out what he’s thinking. Not that she’d wish anyone a tadpole in their brains, but what she would do for a link to his mind right now. 

“We will be moving onto Baldur’s Gate soon,” he finally says, looking up at her. “My apprenticeship needs to begin.”

Tav nods some, understanding. Life needs to move on, no matter what. “Are you excited to be that much closer?”

“More than you could ever know,” he admits, finally looking up at her. “The city is large, and I don’t know…well, I don’t think we’ll see each other again. Not any time soon, at least.”

Tav knows where this is going. She doesn’t like where it’s going, but she knows. And she knows he’s right. “Things have gotten more…complicated with my situation as well,” she explains, casting her eyes down for a second, looking at their hands, then returning to his eyes. “There’s a proper chance I may not live through it.”

Rolan tenses, and she knows that this is not what he wants to hear. But it’s time to be honest.

“With that being said,” she continues, pulling her hand away from him and sitting up further in the bed. Rolan sits up straight, trying to ensure she’s not going to fall over as she swings her legs over the side. Their knees are touching, and she reaches out to take his hand again. “I’m not going to say goodbye, because in the off hand chance I do live, I will be coming to find you and I will be bothering you until I die.”

“You don’t…bother me, Miss Anastasiya,” he corrects, but he’s smiling at her still. It’s not a full smile, because she knows she is giving her odds of survival a low ranking and Rolan doesn’t want to hear that. “You just…alarm me, sometimes. Like when you say ‘in the off hand chance’ you live.”

“Then I will alarm you until I die,” she corrects, leaning in closer. “The odds are not in our favor, Rolan. Do you understand that?”

He nods once, and his hands begin to tremble in hers. “I do, yes. Even though I don’t quite understand what’s happening.”

“It’s a terribly long, convoluted story that involves illithids, cursed tadpoles, elder brains, nether stones and something called the Crown of Karsus –,”

“I’m sorry –Karsus, as in Karsus’s Folley?”

“Gale said that and he’s much smarter than I am, so I would have to say yes, most likely.” Tav has a general idea who Karsus is, but won’t admit that she certainly didn’t pay enough attention in her history classes to remember. Gale promised to explain it later, but she knocked herself out before he could. “Regardless, just know that is…much more complicated now, and I just –if things go south, and I don’t see you again, I want to –,”

But Rolan is cutting her off, and his mouth is on hers, and Tav practically melts into him. Much like his hands, his lips are warm and he tastes like salt and pine and something just a bit sweet that she can’t focus on long enough because his hands are in her hair as he deepens the kiss. Her hands find his face, holding him in place as she slips her tongue past his lips, and Rolan lets out a soft groan in response, meeting her urgency to taste him in equal measure.  She knows that kissing him will haunt her the moment they part, but she can’t stop herself. 

Someone clears their throat, and Tav groans in annoyance as she pulls away from Rolan –not a lot, but her mouth is not on his and she’s mad about it. But his hands remain in her hair, his claws just barely scratching at her scalp, and she glances over to the doorway to see Astarion with her water, a devious little grin on his face. Shovel is standing at his side, pointing. 

“Spellshites are horny!”

“Indeed, my horrible little friend,” Astarion grins, looking down at Shovel before turning his attention to Tav and Rolan. “Not to interrupt, but I wanted to check on our lovely little hero here, per the cleric’s orders,” he explains, sauntering in and sitting on the edge of her bed.

Tav is glaring daggers at her friend as Rolan slowly but surely releases his hold on her, pulling away. “Astarion, I cannot stand –,”

“And the wizard’s siblings are looking for him,” Astarion interrupts, looking over his nails. “What’s worse? Me interrupting, or little brother and sister?”

Rolan huffs, glancing at Tav for a moment, before he stands up. Tav doesn’t care what’s worse because she just wants to kiss Rolan again before she can’t. But he’s put his guard back up, and she wants to throttle Astarion.

“I should go see to them,” Rolan sighs, looking at Tav now with a soft smile. “I hope to see you in Baldur’s Gate, Miss Anastasiya.”

As Rolan disappears out of her room, she turns to Astarion with murder in her eyes. “You son of a bitch.”

“Why does he get to call you Anastasiya and I can’t?”

“Because I hate you.”

“No you don’t, darling.”

“Fucking prick.”

“Ohhh, master is horny for spellshite!” Shovel cackles, jumping into her bed. “She wants a prick!”

She throws a pillow at Shovel, who hisses and jumps at Astarion, spilling the water onto the floor. Shadowheart is storming in and Tav throws her hands in the air and collapses into the bed. Astarion is cackling, Shovel is throwing herself down in a tantrum and Tav is covering her face with her hands.

“I hate all of you so fucking much.”

[marigoldbaker]

'show me how much you missed me'

Jaheira and Khalid

bg3 jaheira meets alt her-age khalid. don't think toooo hard about it. (nsfw under the cut!)

She does not know how to hold herself. She is so acutely aware of her age, her lined face, her brittle body. She jokes about it because jokes take the bite from the words, and she is in well enough shape to keep up with the Harpers, but she is not the strong, beautiful young woman she was when she was married to him.

Is married to him. She never truly stopped being married to him. Yet there was a woman whose beauty knocked Khalid sideways, and she has not been that woman for a century. How can she know that he will want--that the man of her dreams, for dreams are all he has been, will even be stirred to anything by--

Khalid says, "Jaheira. Look at me?"

She keeps her eyes on the floor, heart pounding.

Khalid says, again, gently instructive, "Jaheira, look at me."

Their fingers are twined together. If her eyes are away from him, she must have some reminder of him physically here, else she will be certain that this is another dream, that she will lose him again. His hands are still so sturdy and strong. The age on them only makes her heart soar, thinking of him living a full, rich life, never cut brutally short. Her life has been bitter and cold. She cannot imagine him enjoying the visible reminders of that.

Khalid's hand tilts her face up to his. He presses his forehead to hers. At that simple touch, all of Jaheira's anxieties fall away, that old love blossoming within her like a long-lost friend.

He whispers, "There she is. I missed you, dearest."

The easy, sharp-tongued rebuttals do not come as easily as they did a century ago. She stutters--and he is the one man in the world who will never laugh at the High Harper this shaken, this afraid.

"Sh-show me," she whispers. Her heart hammers in her chest. "Show me. How much you missed me."

Khalid smiles, slow and sweet, like he has only been waiting for her to ask. He draws her into a kiss that knocks all thought from her.

She stills, softens, under his hands. Safe, for the first time in a hundred years. He will not let anything happen to her. He will not laugh if she falters; he could never think less of her, for any reason. His touch is just as she remembers. How is that possible? She has worried for so long that the real man could never live up to the halfway-mythic figure she remembers. To learn that he is what she grieved, has always been worth that space she held--

Oh, it aches, but wonderfully. She always knew herself right to love him this much. To miss him as she has.

Khalid's fingers do not falter as he unbuttons her blouse. She remembers him much more tremulous in their youth, and this change in him makes her heart soar with love and pride. He has done this a thousand times before. He does not doubt her love for him. She wonders how long it took them to reach that point together.

The noises she makes as his fingers brush her skin! Every touch sends a jolt of terrified longing through her; she presses herself closer, and he never laughs, never draws back from the ceaseless pit of need that she is, just touches her more often. More firmly. He kisses her neck, her throat, guides her to lie back against the pillows and kisses with slow, wonderful purpose down her body.

As he moves lower, no longer above her, her breath hitches and she tries to pull him back up, into her arms, holding him there so she is certain of his safety. He raises his eyes to hers and breathes, "Easy, my love. I'm here. Let me take care of you."

Just those words are enough to render Jaheira helpless. She falls back into the pillows as his kisses trail lower still.

The noise she makes when his mouth is on her--oh, a good thing indeed that they are tucked away from the rest of the world, because it is simply impossible for her to hold her tongue and cage her heart in a moment like this. She sobs, her fingers curling hard in his hair, pressing him against her, and he does not object, never objects, loves her so much she feels it like lightning in her veins. This, too, is just as good as she remembers. Better. He knows her body. She does not have to tell him what she likes.

He kisses her, strokes her, a slow pleasure that lacks all of the urgency her body has demanded in the century without him. There is no one else in this world she can imagine slowing down for. Slow gets you killed. Caring got him killed. But he is here now. They are here together.

He reaches up with his free hand, grips her thigh. She reaches down and twines their fingers tight, holding him fast.

[blackjackkent]

OK, time for a very small nice thing for Rakha to counteract all the Horrors.

"*sniff*"

Narrator: The dog seems wary, sniffing you intently.

Offer your hand to the dog to sniff, being careful not to spook it.

Narrator: The dog sniffs your hand and seems more at ease.

"*Bark!*"

-----

Wyll watches Rakha with the dog, a slight smile touching his lips. And Jaheira watches Wyll, and frowns sympathetically.

"I can only imagine it is a trying time to love her," she says gently, in a voice low enough to reach only his ears.

Wyll stiffens. His eyes don't move from Rakha, but Jaheira can see the way he turns his body. It's an unconscious motion, protective, ready to step between Jaheira and Rakha if the need should arise. "Are you suggesting I ought not to?" he says carefully.

Jaheira smiles a little to herself. She could have expected this response. He's a good man, the Ravengard boy - the sort of stout support Rakha will need in the times to come. Caden had Aerie, and it made all the difference in some of his lowest moments.

And Wyll is not so far out of the way from Aerie, really. Both of them torn from their homes by terrible circumstance, mutilated by the cruelty of uncaring masters, and yet full of warmth in spite of it all. Both of them tossed into the way of a Bhaalspawn in whom they found light and love and hope in spite of the darkness. It's a comforting parallel.

And yet... Jaheira has to admit Wyll's path is strewn with far more rocks than Aerie's was. Caden carried Bhaal's taint, but he never slipped so far into the dark as Rakha has. There is an animal ferocity in Rakha that Caden never had, a beast that strains far more strongly at its leash.

"Hardly," she says. "Indeed, I am very glad you do. I only mean that it is not easy to love one so marked by fate."

Wyll hesitates. She can see his loyalty warring with his honesty.

She smiles faintly. "You need not confide in me unless you wish," she says. "Certainly this is only an old woman's meddling."

"No, it's--" He frowns, looks away for a moment - checks to see that Lae'zel and Minthara are not listening, that Rakha is still distracted by the pup. "I hate it," he admits, so low that even Jaheira can barely hear him. "I hate what it does to her. I look at her now... that little smile she gets on her face, that moment of gentleness. All the questions, the moments when she wants to learn, to do the right thing, to understand everything. The music. The magic - the beauty she sees in it, the things she tells me about..." He swallows. "That's the woman I love, and I'd do anything for her. But there's something else there that's not her at all, and it frightens me so terribly."

He trails off, looking down at his boots. "It isn't fair."

"No," she agrees quietly. "No, it most certainly is not. And it is a cruel truth, in my experience, that such unfair business lands all too often on the shoulders of those who deserve it least."

He fidgets uneasily with the hilt of the rapier on his hip. "If what she says is true... she did terrible things, back before she lost her memory. Am I simply a fool, to think that isn't her? That I can love her in spite of that, that she's someone different now?"

"Only you can answer that for yourself." Jaheira studies his expression thoughtfully for a moment. "But if you want my opinion - no. It does not make you foolish, but brave." A pause. "I have cared for many, in the past, who knew their share of darkness. And I am no fool. The foolishness would be in believing she has no choice to change."

He relaxes visibly and his eyes brighten at the reassurance. "Yes," he says. A slight pause. "Your friend... Gorion's Ward..."

"Caden," she says. Her lips twitch. "The legends speak of him always with such grandiose titles..."

He laughs softly. "Caden, then. Did he... frighten you, ever?"

She is quiet a long moment before answering. "At times. There were moments when I knew he struggled with things I could not see. And it frightened me to know that in the end it was his journey, and I could do nothing but stand at his side and see him through."

Wyll nods. "I would take the burden from her, if I could," he says.

"I know you would." She claps him gently on the shoulder. "And it is for that reason that I am glad you cannot. Do not tear yourself apart trying to lay an easy path that does not exist. She will need you, whole-minded and strong, for what is to come."

He draws a slow breath, and she can hear a slight tremble in the exhale. Ye gods, boy, you are so terribly young to face such trials, she thinks bitterly. I never knew love that did not have its touch of pain, but you have earned something bearing a less sharp edge.

But I am familiar with the sense, by now, of standing on history's cusp. Had she not had your guidance, I think Rakha would have a great deal more blood on her hands. And I think, perhaps, one day the strength of your heart will be seen to have saved the world.

"Thank you," he says softly.

She nods. "I am here when you need me," she answers. "And you will - of that I am certain. We have, all of us, a very long road ahead."

[tytoalbatross]

Ranking BG3 Companions Based On Whether I Think They Give Good Advice

1. Halsin

in all honesty, i would put halsin and jaheira tied for first place because it really depends on the way you like advice being given to you. halsin will first drag you outside on a nice hiking trail for The Talk, and depending on whether or not you like the outdoors will greatly impact his placement (at least compared to the other first-place). but his advice is extremely good ! he'll walk you through whatever you're going through (as well as the not-so-well-beaten path in the Woods) and give you ideas for how to approach it based on your personal experience. even if you didn't want to go on the walk and was upset about being dragged on a walk, you'll be even more angry after the walk that it actually kinda worked. 10/10

2. Jaheira

on the other hand, if you want (very good) advice being given to you closer to home, jaheira is undoubtedly your best bet. both she and halsin have the age and the life experience to help you, and she will especially be incredible at being both considerate of your side of things while also giving you brutal honesty whenever necessary. the only downside i can think of is that the whole thing will feel like you're being sat down and being given "a chat" by your usually very cool aunt. another 10/10 though

3. Wyll

what wyll ravenguard doesn't have in years he has in his wide range of experiences and whatever the faerûn equivalent is of binge reading sappy reddit stories. he's Very easy to talk to and even if he doesn't know exactly what to say to you after, he'll definitely sound like he knows what he's talking about. gives pretty general, safe advice and knows the ins and outs of a healthy relationship! however, wyll's advice will lack some credibility because he just. does not follow his own advice. especially regarding family problems

4. Gale

i'd like to mention that i'm rating these characters PURELY on advice. i'm not factoring comfort into the rankings whatsoever. however, if you're looking for comfort AND advice, gale might be decidedly awkward about the former depending on your relationship. which is understandable, considering he barely had any human interactions for a whole a year. no, tara does not count. for advice, gale will listen very intently to your entire problem, and you can see the gears turning in his head. "what" you ask. "well, i can't help but think--" and he just goes ahead and posits an entire gameplan to you. a very pragmatic and thorough plan, yes, but it may not actually be viable for you (pretty hit or miss)

5. Minsc

do i mean minsc or minsc and boo? i couldnt decide on a reliable ranking with boo involved, so this is assuming you caught minsc on the rare occasion that he's without boo. maybe he's taking a nap. minsc almost always suggests you go punch a wall about it. or punch the cause of your problems. it's not the best advice, but you might actually feel better after punching a wall. or punching the cause of your problems. and if he does give you specific advice based on your problem, it can either be surprisingly wise or a good blueprint of what not to do. win-win

6. Shadowheart

all of you people who immediately place shadowheart as the "mom friend" or caretaker of the group simply because she is a cleric and a woman; i am hitting you very hard on the head with a steel bat. shadowheart is unfortunately not socialized beyond her interactions with other sharrans (not an accurate representation of the average group of people), and depending on when in her character arc you ask her for advice, she may not even care to help you. even if she could. however, assuming she is trying to give you advice, she would do her very best to at least talk through the issue with you and suggest some. possibly questionable things. at the end of the conversation it just kinda feels like the blind leading the blind

7. Karlach

karlach is only so low on the list because i think she just wouldn't try to give you advice, at least not in any definitive way. she'd first and foremost trust whatever decision you'll make for yourself (even pre-emptively), and her first priority would be comfort. she'll do her damnedest to give you a hug (which depends on the status of her heart), and she will also suggest punching things. and she will join you ! you solved nothing but you do feel much better at least

8. Astarion

whether astarion even makes an attempt at giving you advice depends entirely on how much he cares about you. if he barely registers your existence, he'll actually try to tell you to do something, but it's godawful advice. closer to a shitty one-liner. if he does care about you though, his "advice" is actually more outlandish and ridiculous. regardless of whether there's another person involved, "have you considered just killing the guy?" and you stare at him like he just grew another head. but hey, you're not upset anymore! he might even be trying to get you to laugh and gape at him because "hey no normal fucking person does that" "but it would work?" etc. and you're even surprised into laughing because what the fuck. astarion will not give you good advice but, like karlach, you will feel at least a little better than you did before the conversation

9. Lae'zel

it even baffles lae'zel that you'd go to her for advice. you trot up to her tent at camp, with everyone else above fully ready and available, asking her for advice. "bold choice." then she proceeds to give you the most brutal, does-not-apply-to-non-gith advice you've ever heard in your life. is she trying? probably. is she used to giving advice beyond simply speaking her mind? not at all. if you're looking for her specific brand of "advice" or you're in the market for combat pointers, you might get something out of the conversation, but otherwise the whole thing just leaves you concerned about how gith society works.

[meggannn]

i've shared a lot of thoughts about dragon age vs baldur's gate 3 writing in private and why i think da banter is still the peak, but i think i can summarize/put a more positive spin on my opinions by saying if bioware writers wrote the bg3 characters, we'd see:

wyll being offended over astarion not because he's a "monster" but because he is a "monster" who has no interest in overcoming his base urges, enjoys killing, would kill again, etc; astarion would simultaneously take out his anger on wyll because a hero never came to save him and he may think wyll (even under contract) is a hypocrite for only saving people he deems are "perfect" victims

shadowheart calling lae'zel a slave to vlaakith or orpheus's will, never her own, pre-nightsong lae'zel snapping it takes one to know one

lae'zel regularly challenging halsin, wyll, and karlach to sparring matches, swordfights, fist fights, etc. first out of pride then friendly competition. by act 3 there is an actual bracket going with bets and wyll is very proud to trump them all when they fight with rapiers, lae'zel declaring "you have impressed me, i will visit you later tonight" to whoever wins

halsin actually remarking on this or that natural landscape and sharing interesting facts about the world instead of just talking about nature being in or out of balance. him saying "hm the rats in the city talk differently than the rats in the grove, nature is stifled but also finds different way of expressing itself here through the cracks" instead of just going "wow the city sucks"

several jokes or accusations about scratch eating boo, the owlcub eating boo, astarion eating boo

speaking of, several arguments about who scratch and the owlcub like more, while everyone fights over it gale smugly knowing scratch absolutely likes him most because he feeds scratch leftovers while he cooks and he's magicked up a full dogbed and inside his tent-that-is-actually-a-minimansion-inside. the owlbear cub is not allowed in though after it ripped apart a very expensive book

shadowheart complaining about patching up everyone more often as time passes because they all come to rely on her to be there: "what would you all do if i wasn't here," "die probably"—everyone

several ongoing conversations about who withers is, what he wants, if he's a god, if he killed a god, does he even sleep or just stand there watching over us all night, astarion wondering what would happen if they killed him and karlach daring him to do it

gale and wyll both being big nonfiction readers, wyll on history and gale on spell theory, wyll tentatively wondering if gale ever came across any magic that could remove devil horns and gale for once not finding the words to reply

karlach trying to bond with astarion over their mutual trauma of being recently enslaved, astarion not giving her an inch because honestly how dare she be happy or want to TALK about feelings out in the open, karlach finding someone stitched up clive for her one night and asking the team if anyone knows who did it and astarion is the only one who doesn't reply

jaheira regularly saying wow y'all are a bunch of children and everyone stops snipping at each other to start dogpiling on her for being an old woman

tldr let them be nastier. let them have real fights and friendships

[theshotsheardacrossworlds]

Drunk

Rolan drunkenly lashes out at Amelie and then later apologizes. Set in Act 2. SFW.

“…There’s another bottle of Arabellan Dry back there. Put it on the bar, then piss off and leave me alone.”

Rolan?!

Amelie was overjoyed to hear the tiefling’s voice but then worry strangled any elation she felt.

He’s drunk.

He’s yelling at the children.

His siblings were taken.

“Jaheira said we should serve drinks, but that we shouldn’t serve drunks.” Ide said proudly.

“Jaheira didn’t save your ragged little tail from the cultists---I did.”

Oh gods.

As she approached him, she cleared her throat softly. “Alfira told me you’re the reason her and the kids escaped.”

Rolan sneered. “Cute---maybe she’ll write a ballad about me. She can leave out the part where my brother and sister were dragged away screaming while I was saving the orphans.” He spun around to face her, demonic yellow eyes narrowed and his jaw set. “If you hadn’t filled their heads with all that self-righteous heroic crap at the grove, none of this would have happened.”

At first, Amelie had no idea what to say.

Da said to always follow my heart because it would never lead me astray.

What if it did? What if it did and now Rolan hates me for it?

After what felt like an eternity, she said, “Then it’s my responsibility to bring them back.”

I won’t let you down, Rolan.

I won’t.

“They’re my responsibility. You go save the world, or your own arse, or whatever it is you do. I’ll fix this.” He turned back around and drank heavily from the bottle.

Her golden eyes burned with unshed tears, her mouth agape.

“Come on, darling. Let’s go find that cleric of Jaheira’s.” Astarion said not unkindly, offering his arm.

Not for the first time since her adventure began, Amelie cried herself to sleep.

Rolan, I’m so sorry. I’ll make it up to you. I promise. I’ll get them back. I swear. Please, please don’t hate me.

***

“Ahem, may I join you, my lady?”

Amelie blinked and then smiled at Rolan, standing like a nervous little boy. Awww! “Of course. Please.” She was sitting on the stone wall outside of Last Light, away from the others. Sometimes you need a little peace and quiet, you know? He nodded quickly and sat next to her, placing his hands in his lap.

He stared at the ground as he began to speak. “I, um, wanted to thank you again for bringing Lia and Cal back, b-but also to apologize for my behavior when you arrived a few days ago. I’m…” Oh gods, is he crying? Oh no! “I’m ashamed of myself. That’s no way to treat anyone, let alone a lady. I must ask for your forgiveness, your ladyship, though it’s not deserved in any way.”

Her heart broke for him. Reaching for his hand, she took it in hers. “Rolan, please. Just Amelie, and I do forgive you. You were upset and angry…rightfully so—”

One of my tutors called me “stubbornly self-righteous.”

Accurate.

And it nearly got Rolan and his siblings killed.

“My lady,” he lifted his head so he could meet her worried gaze. “Please don’t make excuses for me. I behaved like an uncouth, drunken ass. I beg your forgiveness.”

I want to kiss him.

NO.

Don’t do that.

He doesn’t like me in that way. No one does.

She smiled, squeezing his hand. “Oh Rolan, of course I forgive you. You’re my friend.” And that’s all I’ll ever be to you, to anyone, even though it breaks my heart. “That’s what friends do---forgive each other.”

“F-friends? We’re friends?” A single tear fell down a freckled cheek.

Oh Rolan.

You’re so much more than a friend to me.

“I think so. I hope so?” Amelie chuckled, wiping away his tears with a handkerchief. “At least to me you are.”

I want to kiss him.

Tell him how much I care.

Then kiss him some more.

A small smile tugged on his lips. “Yes. Yes, my lady. My friend.” He took both her hands in his, placing them on his lap. “Thank you.”

If I can’t kiss him, then I might as well—

She suddenly pulled Rolan into a hug.

He returned her embrace, groaning. “Good gods, woman! Do you hug all your friends like this?!”

Joke’s on you, Rolan.

Because you’re damn right I do!

“As a matter of fact—”

He groaned again and let go of her. “Hmph, I suppose I’ll need to get used to you hugging me.” Despite his tone, he was smiling like he’s the happiest person in Faerun. He’s so handsome.

I really want to kiss him.

No.

No.

No.

She barely suppressed a yawn and blushed. “Gods, sorry. I should go to bed. It’s been a long day, and tomorrow is another long one.” When she stood, so did he. Rolan offered his arm, which she very happily took. “Are you walking me back, Rolan?”

“Yes, my lady. It’s what a friend would do, no?”

Rolan, you tease.

I see your grin.

You’re teasing me!

Stop thinking about kissing him…

It’ll never happen…

Then again, if I consider my current predicament, it proves that anything can happen.

Amelie did not realize she and Rolan arrived at her room.

“My lady?”

Shit.

She smiled, feeling more tired by the second. “Thanks, Rolan. Have a good night, and…” SHIT. “You’re a good man. I’m glad you’re my friend.”

I’m in love with you.

You don’t have to shoulder your burdens alone.

You have me.

I’m yours.

Wait, is he blushing? That’s so cute!

“Thank you. You too. Good night, my lady.” He muttered as he disappeared down the hall, posture as stiff as a board.

Was that flirting?

I think it was?

[experimentalmadness]

Break the Cage

Synopsis: Tav is confronted after letting Astarion ascend and letting herself be turned into a spawn. Astarion is, of course, there to intervene. But there is far more to her choices than meets the eye.

Hurt/Comfort, mentions of serious past abuse, angst with a fluffy ending. Soft(er) Ascended Astarion,

A/N: I swear I'll post these all in a multi-chapter collection on AO3 soon, but in the meantime you can find more of my Astarion/Eidel fic here

***

“You’ve let this go too far, Eidel!” Jaheira’s voice was full of that insufferable righteous anger Astarion had had quite enough of. 

He lingered behind the door to their chambers in the Elfsong, peering through the slight crack as he watched the older druid pacing like a panther. Meanwhile his newly made consort held up her hands placatingly. “Please stop shouting.”

“It was bad enough you let him execute seven thousand souls, but you let him make you his spawn?” Jaheira continued, “What were you thinking?”

“It was my choice,” Eidel’s soft voice carried no hint of doubt. 

“Choice is something you will never have the luxury of again.”

“Jaheira, please, I’m still me. Nothing’s changed.”

Astarion watched as his consort tried to reach out to the elf only for Jaheira to take a disgusted step back. “The druid I had come to know would never have allowed so many to die for such a selfish decision.”

“I never said it was easy.” A mournful tone crept into Eidel’s voice. “I will spend my eternity balancing those scales…how can I make you understand?”

“You cannot.”

Eidel sighed. “Very well, but…you will stay, won’t you? Our goals are still the same. We need all the help we can get to stop the Absolute.”

“I stay for the sake of this city and its people, of course,” Jaheria said. “But you have let yourself become an abomination.”

Astarion saw Eidel stiffen, her eyes going wide. “Don’t call me that. Please.”

“Why? Do you suddenly dislike the truth? You are a druid, Eidel, a creature of life and nature and you allowed yourself to be severed from the natural cycle of life and death. I never took you for a fool until today.”

“Is it foolish to want safety?” Eidel asked, her voice whisper-quiet. “For him? For me?”

“Enjoy your safety in the little cage he will put you in.”

“I’ve spent my whole life in a cage!” A screaming rage the likes of which Astarion had never heard from Eidel before burst out of her. Even Jaheira seemed taken aback by the sudden onslaught. “All my life, Jaheira! I know what captivity is. I’m free. And no one can take it from me. Ever. How dare you! How dare you!” 

Her body was not built for anger. She shook and dissolved into tears. Astarion decided his curiosity was fully sated and he walked into the room. “I’ll thank you not to distress my consort further,” he said, coming to stand next to Eidel. 

Jaheira seemed torn between guilt and anger. She looked as if she wanted to reach for his sobbing Eidel out of an abundance of remorse, but he slung an arm over Eidel’s shoulders, drawing her into a comforting embrace. He spared the older elf a small smile of satisfaction. Jaheria’s impotent glare was oh so rewarding. 

“Eidel,” Jaheria sighed. “I did not mean to…there are other paths to take, child.”

“I think you’ve done quite enough,” Astarion gestured towards the door. “Off you go.”

Jaheira laughed without humor. “You cannot order me about, my lord.” Her voice dripped with disdain. 

“Whoever said anything about ordering? You’re going to leave of your own volition because I need a moment alone with my consort. And you are upsetting her.”

“I…would like you to leave now, Jaheira,” Eidel drew herself away from Astarion, eyes shining and wet. “Please.”

“I see you for what you are, Astarion,” Jaheria said as she turned on her heel to leave. “Even if she does not.” 

The door slammed shut behind her. “Well. What a thoroughly unpleasant woman,” Astarion rolled his eyes. “Don’t you worry, sweet thing, I’ll keep a watchful eye on her where you are concerned.”

Eidel had stopped crying, but her hands were still balled into trembling fists and he could feel her sorrow and rage pouring off of her. The tadpole allowed for him to sense her emotions, but now he could feel them as if they were his own. The bond he’d forged with her was new, and unknown. Maybe it held some magic he had not yet accounted for. Astarion frowned, not particularly enjoying tasting Eidel’s emotions at present. 

“I am not an abomination,” she said, more to herself than to him.

“Of course not,” Astarion assured. “You are perfect.”

“You won’t put me in a cage.”

He smiled. It wasn’t a question. She didn’t need reassurance to believe what she felt in her bones. But he gave her one anyway. “Unless you consider the Gate and all of Faerun to be one?” He hardly had to worry about her leaving his side. He could feel how terribly badly she wanted to always be with him. Her freedom, and his, aligned perfectly. And for such natural, darling, obedience he’d give her everything. 

She inhaled deeply, and her trembling ceased. “I wish I could make her understand. I wish I could make them all understand,” she lamented. 

“We don’t need their understanding,” he soothed, placing his hands on her shoulders. “We are far above needing their approval. We have each other.”

A smile flickered at his words, but did not stay. Eidel’s eyes were still downcast. “I shouldn’t have shouted.”

“Darling,” Astarion laughed, “you should have done a lot more than that.”

“I just wanted to keep you safe. To keep us safe.”

He was losing her to something dark he couldn’t identify. “Eidel. Whatever did you mean when you told Jaheira you were kept in a cage?” He’d heard her mention her life before this little adventure only on the rarest of occasions. He knew about the cage, about the fact that she had fled from somewhere before the nautiloid had found her. But the rest was an utter mystery. 

“I…I don’t want to talk about it.” 

Ah, that old song. How many times had he heard it? How many times had he let it simply slide away. “I find that puts us on rather uneven footing, wouldn’t you agree? You know all there is to know about me. All my dirty little secrets. I’ve shared everything with you. And yet you hide your past from me?”

“Astarion it’s…it’s not a nice story.”

“Oh and mine was such a fairy tale?”

Eidel had that look she often had when they touched upon her life. Prey hiding from the predator. He could smell her fear, a sickly curdled scent that wrinkled his nose. Eidel paced, walking a small five step by five step square from the hearth to the group’s chest and back again. “That’s about it,” she said, standing in the middle of the invisible square. “The size of my world for as long as I can remember.”

It was barely enough room to lay down in comfortably, even for one as slight as she. “It was always dark. I was always cold, hungry. I was a child and then not. There were figures always passing me in the dark but they never spoke to me. I would reach for them. I would scream at them. I learned to talk from the rats and spiders that would creep into my cage. When they would touch me they cut at me with sharp knives. Spoke in incantations. Shouted at me in frustration. They took parts of me with them every time. My horns first,” she reached up under her bushy ashen black hair to the flattened stumps that hid under. “Then my wings,” her hand went next to over her shoulders, reaching for the empty limbs that no longer existed. “Then my tail.” She touched her lower back, swishing her hips as if she still expected a muscle that no longer existed to move in response. 

“I had no thoughts for a long time. Not until the animals taught me my first words. Then I thought. This was the whole of the world. But the rats would tell me of the sun. Of the trees. The spiders told me of the soft places in forests. And I learned a new word: freedom. And I learned to want things. They taught me how to change my form and then I escaped. A spider crawling through the dark cracks of the earth until I found what lay outside my underground world. And there I was. And it was bright and beautiful and…lonely. I don’t know why I was kept in that cage, in the dark. I don’t know why they hurt me. And the more I think about that time the more I feel as if I’m back there. I will never go back. So that’s it. You know as much as I do now. Please never ask me again.”

Astarion didn’t know what to say. There was anger simmering beneath the surface, but there was more. Understanding. Empathy. Emotions that twisted inside of him, vile and pathetic. She reminded him of his own degrading past, standing in her invisible cage like that. He wanted to look away. “You have a deal,” he said, “I never want to hear anything so unpleasant from your lips ever again. Now, come with me.” 

He held out his hand and she was all too eager to take it. She was cold to the touch, a fact Astarion was still getting used to. He missed the gentle warmth she often radiated, but it was more than the chill of death on her skin. She looked dead. Her eyes were a blank, and her awkward bird-like legs shuffled alongside him like a thrall. An intolerable sight. He led her out of the rooms and up to the Elfsong’s roof where the afternoon sun was blazing bright. 

“Here we are,” he announced with a small flourish of his hand. “A far more fitting setting than those dreary rooms below.”

But Eidel only blinked. He felt her mental exhaustion, felt the weariness in his own bones. “Eidel,” he touched her cheek. “Enough of this. You were not made to be kept in the dark.”

“Why was I made?” she asked softly, haunted by specters of her past. 

“Oh, I don’t know, darling, hardly anyone knows those things,” he scoffed. “But I know that I made you for the sun. For the world to lay itself at your feet.” He turned her wrist over to kiss the twin bite scars he had placed there less than two nights ago. “I made you to be adored.”

He grinned as the light slowly returned to her eyes at his words. “You belong here,” he gestured around the open air. “So let’s have no more talk of such dreadful things.”

“No,” Eidel said before she brought herself against him. Astarion wrapped his arms about her out of reflex. “I belong here.”

He chuckled, “You sweet sweet thing.”

“This life? Freedom? It means nothing without you,” her words were deathly serious. None of her usual joyful, naive charm. “That was what I was trying to make Jaheira understand. Maybe she is right, in a way, maybe I am an abomination… I don’t know.”

“I can tell you definitively you are not, darling.”

“But, Astarion, I’d have sacrificed more than seven thousand souls for you. To protect you. To give you the world. I love you and it scares me. I cannot lose you.”

“And you never will,” he said, full of false gaiety. He tried on a laugh, but pulled her tighter still. Her words reached down into him, tearing something loose. He was the Vampire Ascendant, untouchable, invulnerable, but not against her. It was horrible to feel so keenly, disgusting to hold this fluttering bird and find her heart as valuable as his own. “We are bonded, you and I, for eternity.”

She still tasted of sorrow when he kissed her. “Eidel,” a gentle, teasing chastisement was on his tongue, but that wriggling, ugly vulnerability crept in when his guard was down. “I love you,” he said instead, surprising himself. It was not followed by a desire, a question, nor a command. He only wanted her to hear him say it. 

Her smile was as warm as the sun, a shining gem he had all to himself. She let out a small, joyful laugh that sounded like her truest self again. “Perhaps that is what we were made for, after all.” 

[melanie-ohara]

Origin characters and their Dream Guardians

It's suggested that everyone sees a different person when they meet the Guardian - Gale always says he met a beautiful woman, for instance - so I started thinking about what each of them would see. Here are my ideas:

Lae'zel

A fellow githyanki of course, since the number of non-gith she knows can be counted on one hand and the number she trusts on no hands. This is a tough, older gith woman who's seen a lot of battles, but she's also aristocratic and authoritative to appeal to Lae'zel's desperate need for a guiding hand.

Shadowheart

A half-elf twink who looks a lot like Leon Kennedy. As a Sharran (even a slightly rubbish one), Shadowheart doesn't do trust. She does, however, have big switch energy and I think she'd warm to a cute elfin boy she could absolutely destroy (in a fight, of course) if she wanted to.

Astarion

This is an interesting one, because after what's happened to him Astarion will not trust anyone. The alternative, then, is someone whose motivations he thinks he can be sure of, so just pretend this is a devil instead of a tiefling. He's clearly dangerous, put he's also very neat and put together - exactly the sort of person Astarion understands. Alternatively, the Guardian might appear to Astarion in its true form, and he just pretends to be surprised.

Gale

This one is pretty easy, since Gale says he sees a beautiful woman, so I just... made a beautiful woman. Her makeup has an ethereal touch I think would appeal to him, but she doesn't look like Mystra - since the Guardian is offering a different kind of power, its avatar should reflect that.

Wyll

A halfling with farmgirl aesthetics. Wyll absolutely loves it when plucky underdogs stand up for themselves, and the early implication of a young halfling standing up for the fate of the world would be compelling to him.

Karlach

A young tiefling. Clearly street-smart and capable, but still vulnerable and in need of aid. Karlach has a lot of motivations, but deep down she mourns the loss of the life she could have had more than anything else.

Bonus

If Halsin was infected:

this golden retriever puppy. Not pictured: the puppy's friend, which is a duck.

If Jaheira was infected:

Knife cat. Obviously.

[spyvstailor]

Stalked

Chapter Six

Have at it @whiskeyskin

The shadows and the darkness seemed to stretch on, shading the land into muted shades of grey and black, the only light the dim silver glow of Last Light's shield over their shoulders.

Rugan eyed the shadows warily, then looked at the faint glow that surrounded his boots wherever he set his feet down. It spread out from him, chasing the lingering tendrils of dark magic that cursed the land back into the shadows they came from.

Beside him the sullen Tiefling glowered at the land around them, golden eyes shining in the darkness like fire.

“I figure this is a death march for you,” Rugan said to the wizard. “But if you could avoid being reckless and taking me into the hells with you, that would be...ah, just a wonderful gift for a new friend.”

“I'm not on a death march!” Rolan snapped. “I just don't want to sit around sober waiting to die. Out here, in there, it doesn't matter! Nothing does anymore.”

Rugan eyed the Tiefling, before sniffing and looking around at the bleak fucking shadowy lands surrounding them. Any lingering effects from the liquor back at the inn was gone, the men sobered up by the graven landscape. “Cheery.”

“What are we even looking for anyways?” Rolan demanded as they made their way down a path, leading away from Last Light, the light like the rising of a full moon, always shining to their right. It was a small, oddly welcome comfort to know that it was there. The haven, should they need it.

“Nothing, I think the lass just wanted us out of her hair for a bit.”

“Lass,” Rolan scoffed. “She's an old woman! An old fool chasing ghosts in the darkness. Do you know how many Fists back at Last Light think she's lost all sense she had?”

“I'm not a Fist,” Rugan said. “And I don't give a rats shit about what they think. Do-gooders who only want to do good when there's an audience.”

“Do you think waiting around is getting anything done, then? We are dying one by one and she waits, stands at her pathetic table and just waits. She can wait until the hells close in for all I care.”

“Aye, you over here making the big decisions. Get drunk, go half cocked into the darkness, come back in defeat, get drunk all over again. Why did you Tiefs even decide to cut through the shadow cursed lands? Eh?”

“Zevlor,” Rolan grit out through clenched teeth.

“Aye? And where is he now?”

“Dead, possibly. Tadpoled, probably.”

Rugan nodded. “And here you are, without a leader, in a holding pattern in the dark.”

“Jaheira's not going to give you the time of day,” Rolan said. “This heroic crap doesn't fool even the children.”

Rugan smiled and pushed to his feet. “Do you think I'm out here to go the long way towards a tumble?”

“I think you're not doing this out of boredom or the kindness of your heart,” Rolan griped, following Rugan as the man headed off down a nearby path. “So, we're what? Just going to mill about the shadows? Do you even a plan that isn't keep your own ass safe? Or are you just dragging my ass into the shadows on a whim?”

“Maybe I'm not looking for a hard tumble, just a miserable one,” Rugan teased idly, pausing near a crossroads and cautiously weighing his options.

Rolan was quiet for only a moment, before he sighed deeply, “I'm going back. I'm not sure if you're an idiot or just reckless, but I'm not looking to find out.”

Chuckling, Rugan held out his arm and stopped the Tiefling, barring his escape. “Alright, I'll-”

A noise, like the gurgling of a drowning man came from their left and both men fell silent, dropping down quickly behind some rotting crates, left at the crossroads by fleeing Reithwin citizens.

Rugan strained to hear the noise, he had never heard anything like it before. It came them, a new gurgling joining the first, from their left and he pressed the Tiefling and himself back, deeper into the shadows by the crates. The shadows were a dangerous place to be, but the blessing seemed to be holding up properly for them.

A strong arm around his midsection was yanking Rugan back and down into the dirt, as the Tiefling sprung up from their hiding place as a small clutch of shadow creature shambled forward into their view.

Rugan, self preservation mode kicking in, watched quietly as the Tiefling wizard stood before the four creatures, robing swirling around his legs, hands held out. The incantation he spoke reverberated against everything within range, bouncing and jogging against itself, garbling the pronunciation to near unintelligible, but the effect was visual. A ripple of energy, like the force of a gale force wind, shook the entire area, blasting out from the Tiefling's clawed hands, knocking the creatures back, sweeping them off their feet.

Rugan, carefully got to his feet, just as two of the creatures did, and reaching down, he pulled a bottle out of his side satchel and lobbed it hard at the feet of the two beings.

Flames whooshed up and encompassed both creatures, but still the shuffled forward, on fire and charring as the other two finally joined them.

Rolan threw a firebolt, knocking one back and down. It stayed down.

Rugan threw his last bottle, taking out two more and watched in surprise as the Tiefling picked up a nearby rock and threw the hefty stone, striking the last creature in the head. It took a step back, then dropped.

“Good aim,” Rugan praised.

For a moment the Tiefling looked shocked at his own aim, before his face settled into its typical severe frown. “Are we done out here?”

Looking about, at the destruction they wrought on an already destroyed land, Rugan sighed. “No, we should find something at least to take back to the Harper.”

Quietly, the Tiefling stepped in beside Rugan as they continued to make their way cautiously through the shadows.

“You are trying to bed her,” Rolan pointed out.

“Have you seen me, lad? I don't need to work hard on bedding anyone.”

They walked on for a bit.

“But I'll wear her down,” Rugan added.

His companion scoffed. “Pathetic.”

They had managed to circumvent the darkest parts of the shadow lands, before they found themselves once more back where they had begun.

Standing just before the bridge into Last Light, Rolan sighed deeply. “Well, that was time well wasted.”

Rugan nodded. “We won't get anywhere without more protection.” His mind was churning, not for plans of what to do to get further into the shadows, but it was churning over why he was suddenly feeling...bad? Like a failure?

It wasn't a feeling he was used to. At least, not over something like this.

Maybe it was because he was getting old and soft, his emotions were getting too...easy to spark.

Or, and he liked this theory better, his pride had been hurt. He didn't set out to do what he wanted to do.

Go out into the shadows and find something to bring back to Jaheira.

Fuck the dead Gods...he was soft.

He was fucking dog, that's what he was. A godsdamned retriever, going out into the dark waters in hopes of bringing back a fat duck for his master.

And why? To get a tumble?

“Anyways,” Rolan murmured, bringing Rugan back to the present where he had been standing stark still, brow furrowed for at least two minutes, the Tiefling scowling at him the entire time.

“I'm going to keep at it,” Rugan said. “See what I can find.”

Rolan stopped, halfway from turning away to go back into the safety of Last Light, his gold eyes narrowing.

“You're going back out there? We've been everywhere in that darkness. There's nothing to find.” He argued.

“Go on inside, lad,” Rugan said. “I'm going for a mooch.”

Turning from the safety of Last Light, Rugan started off again into the shadows.

He was fucking pathetic.

Footsteps crunching behind him had him glancing back, finding Rolan falling into step with him easily, the taller Tiefling's legs making up the distance efficiently.

“Shut up,” Rolan snapped before Rugan could even think of something to say. “I'm not going back there with my tail tucked between my legs again.”

Rugan chuckled.

“Shut up. I didn't mean it that way,” Rolan added quickly.

Reaching out, Rugan took hold of Rolan's tail and had his hand swatted away promptly.

“Don't.” The wizard spun on him, clawed finger pointed in his face. “And don't think this means I like you! I'm just not going to be responsible for another death.”

Rugan walked with the Tiefling for a bit, before he said, “you know, lad, you're all bark and no bite. Big softie under that red skin of yours.”

“Shut it.”

“I'm feeling like we're already best mates,” Rugan went on.

“Stop it!”

“Can I touch your horns?”

“Stop it!”

“Never had a Tief for a mate before,” Rugan mused, enjoying riling up the grumpy wizard. “Have you ever gored someone with those horns?”

“There's a first time for everything,” Rolan growled.

Falling quiet, Rugan decided to ease up on the other man, he figured Rolan earned himself a little respite from his bullshit for the night, the day?

He eyed the sky, it was hard to tell.

A faint sound caught his attention and he dropped his chin, eyes on the shadows around them.

Both he and Rolan paused, hearing the sound, before once more they dropped for cover, ducking behind a stone wall and waiting out the sound.

This time it was voices, murmuring in the darkness. They weren't the gargles of a shadow cursed creature, these were intelligent voices, speaking quietly somewhere in the darkness.

[paganwitchisis]

"His Real Family" Chapter 2

Chapter two: An Explanation and Danger

Rating: E for Explicit!!

Trigger Warnings: Pregnancy, violence, murder of NPC, blood drinking, PinV smut, smut, oral, creampie, hand job

Pairing: AFAB Female Tav/Astarion

Word Count:3,628

Chapter one is here!

AO3 link is here!

Story:

Tav felt a headache coming on when she looked at this woman. She was fairly pretty, with her long hair and bright eyes, but Tav had to agree with Astarion.

Something seemed off.  

Tav entered the room hand in hand with Astarion only moments ago to the companion room. Everyone was awake and aware of the situation, but Astarion had questions. He also wanted to drive her away, but considering the woman was still there, it seems his actions to give Tav pleasure and make Velanna leave that way had failed. He was happy he could reassure and give his lover bliss, but it would have been nice if there was an added bonus. If Velanna had left.

“Ah, there you are!” Gale exclaimed when his eyes landed on the elf. “That wasn’t nice, you know.”

“Nice? I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Astarion retorted, even though he knew full well what Gale was referring to.

“Sure, you don’t.” Gale replied as he rolled his eyes in response. “We need to figure everything out, Astarion.”

“Well, I am here, aren't I?” Astarion scoffed and sat down with Tav on his lap in a chair near the fire. Astarion always liked the warmth on his skin and was trying to make a statement with Tav sitting on him intimately. Astarion knew Tav wasn't happy to do this but he knew she would go along with his plans for his sake.  

Gale sighed audibly, as Velanna, who was sitting in a chair nearby, looked distraught.

“Do you both share a room?” Velanna asked, curiously.

“Of course! Why wouldn't I share a room with my lover?” Astarion stated matter-of-factly.

“Lover? But we promised to be each other’s firsts! I’ve stayed celibate for you!” Velanna pleaded, but it was for naught as Astarion began to laugh wholeheartedly, his grip tightening on his lover.

“That ship has sailed long ago. You may as well rip your bandage off. I mean, didn’t you hear us just a moment ago?” Astarion kept laughing still at a visibly upset elven woman. It was only then that Tav was putting the pieces together. If Astarion was still a virgin as an elf before being afflicted with vampirism, does that mean…

Tav hoped the woman was lying, because the implication was just too vile to consider. Astarion didn’t have a choice in who he bedded or did not sleep with. Sure, he could choose the mark, but Astarion was looking for survival. He couldn’t afford to come back empty-handed. He was a thrall to Cazador’s power until the Nautiloid collected him along with the others a few months ago. Did this mean Cazador took his…

No.

Tav refused to believe this. Surely, Astarion would have remembered that aspect during his torture. If this was wrong, then Velanna was lying, but Astarion didn’t react. Tav probed his mind and reached out to him via the tadpoles and asked between them the question that has been worrying her.

“Were you a virgin when you turned?”

Astarion chuckled, his laugh had died down since then.

“Somehow I doubt it, my love, but I don’t remember, to be honest. I just have a strong suspicion that isn’t true, but it isn't enough to accuse her.”  Astarion kissed the space behind Tav’s ear and Tav managed to withhold the moan that wanted to escape her lips.

While they had their discussion, Gale was trying to comfort the upset and dejected woman. She wailed and cried as their companions shook their heads at Astarion’s blunt response….well, maybe most of the companions.

Lae’zel perked up and commented “It is good to be blunt. My kin are usually blunt to avoid miscommunication.”

“But not like this.” Karlach commented as she made her way to the girl so she could soothe her.

“Couldn’t you have been gentler, Astarion?” Wyll scolded, but Jaheira retorted for him.

“No, he cannot. What did you expect? A leopard to change their spots?”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.” Astarion mumbled with a smile on his face.

“Was it me?” a small voice asked out among the chatter. It was easy to mistaken or ignore but it was there and because of their close proximity, Tav could hear Velanna easily.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                   

“Don’t humor yourself, darling. Now, who are you?” Astarion demanded, his hand sliding up and down Tav’s skin on the side of her stomach under her shirt. Astarion was trying to reassure her and show his care in any way he can.

Karlach and Gale took their seats near by and waited as Velanna calmed down and finally started to explain the situation. The rest of their companions either took a seat or hovered near by.

“We grew up together in the upper city. Your parents were wealthy and had old money.” Velanna looked around at the confused faces and clarified “I mean, they had money inherited to them from their time in Evereska. Apparently, they moved to Baldur’s Gate for opportunities for Astarion. I was a butcher’s daughter. We had money, but no one of any class would hang out with a butcher’s family, so I grew up lonely until Astarion came into my life. He was sent by his parents for some errands, and we sort of bumped into each other.” Velanna took a breath she didn’t realize she was holding in. Astarion’s eyes narrowed at parts of the story, but he didn’t speak. Tav was surprised when she felt his tadpole connect to hers and their thoughts became shared. He was being open with her so when Astarion called out the bullshit in his head, she heard it too. Astarion wasn't buying the butcher story one bit but he only aired his grievance to Tav and didn’t speak out.

“It may be plausible for my parents to have money from Evereska, but for a butcher to afford the upper city? I don’t care how popular you are, it just doesn’t happen.” Astarion thought with the tadpole. He began kissing Tav’s shoulder as she sat on his lap.

“I wouldn’t know, but let her finish so we can hear it all.”

“All her lies.”

“Astarion…” Tav thought longingly. She wondered briefly which god she angered to get this punishment and then she chuckled. They pissed off a few and a devil too. Tav didn’t think an actual god was behind this madness but she could have gone without knowing Astarion was engaged before.

“I was never betrothed, darling.” Astarion must have heard her thoughts and replied. “It doesn’t matter, because all my firsts are with you. Although my past made it so I’ve done every depraved and lustful thing known to man, none of those were with love and care. You changed that. You’re carrying our child. What I wouldn’t give to be locked away with you for a decade right now” Astarion winc0ed as he began to grow hard at the thought. Thankfully Tav was sitting on his lap so no one could see his predicament but Astarion was still sore from their night of passion and the morning after.

“Slow it down, honey. Let’s get rid of her first.” Tav said and paid attention to Gale who was asking questions about the butcher’s lifestyle.  Astarion began thinking of anything he could to remove himself from that situation. He tried not to think of Tav rubbing her backside unconsciously on his groin, he tried to ignore the memories from their recent trysts coming up and instead focused on thinking about their child and what they would look like. It seemed to do the trick as he remained soft in his pants.

“So what else happened?” Astarion asked and finally spoke up.

“Well, we began hanging out every day. He was maybe twelve when we met. His parents were rather strict, but as long as he kept his grades up, they saw no problem with Astarion hanging out with me. It wasn't long...maybe four or five years later, and we were dating. We had our first kiss overlooking the docks. He was so nervous, it was endearing.” Velanna fondly remembered what was in her memories. Astarion, on the other hand, wrapped his arms around Tav. He was upset, so he drew Tav’s head down and kissed her longingly. Astarion wasn't settling for a chaste kiss, instead he deepened the kiss.

“I love you.” Astarion said to Tav via the tadpole.

“Really, Astarion?” Gale chided. “Have you no decency?”

Astarion pulled back and looked Gale dead in the eyes before replying. “Not for her.”

Upset but not crying, Velanna spoke up. “Why do you hate me so much?”

Astarion rolled his eyes and sighed. “I have someone I love and you know nothing about me. Most women in this situation would take the loss, realize people change and be done with it. You? You keep pestering me as if I would leave my lover for you?”

“I just want you to know what happened and for a chance! I still love you!” Velanna begged.

“But I don’t love you.” Astarion stated matter-of-factly.

“Astarion, just hear the poor girl out.” Gale tried to intervene but was shut down.

“And then what, Gale? Are you telling me I should ignore Tav for this hussy?” Astarion angerly spat.

“No, of course not, but you should be informed about your decision before making it. Don’t you want to remember what…”

“Shut up! That is my story to tell and I don’t want it spilled! Anything about my past is not to be given out.” Astarion was incensed at Gale. Gale almost spilled about his memory issue thanks to his two centuries of torment. Tav calmed the vampire down with gentle touches and soothing words. Astarion buried his head in the crook of her neck, thankful that Tav’s hair covered the scar he left her with. A scar that shows the world that she is his and soon, her belly would show that as well. Halsin had informed them that day some time ago that Tav was already through the first trimester, that the first time they made love, he impregnated her. It was surreal to think that their first night conceived their child and Astarion was thankful he didn’t disassociate much during the act. It had been almost four months since they laid together and Tav was already developing a baby bump, the child’s sex was even known and Tav was tired more than usual because of this. The first time Astarion heard the child’s heartbeat, he was perplexed. He never put it together until her blood had changed so much that he could tell. Halsin explained it was the baby’s sex that was flooding Tav’s body with extra hormones. It wasn’t until recently that the child’s sex was determined. Due to Tav’s health and condition, Astarion would find himself rubbing her feet more often than not lately because adventuring had become more exhausting for her. The threat of battle forced them to keep a fifth person in their party lately to be Tav’s shield (even if they didn’t know why). Jaheira had guessed correctly the one night, but Astarion was able to convince her otherwise, or at least he thought he did. Astarion groaned and subtly placed his hand on the small bump in her stomach as he held her.

“I’ll listen to the story, but I am NOT leaving Tav.” Astarion stated decisively. Astarion glanced at Velanna and could see her mask shift a moment. She played the part of the crying ex well, but for a moment, Velanna was angry.

“How is it Astarion of all people is the prize here?” Shadowheart asked. 

“You’re just jealous cause I’m prettier than you.” Astarion jested after pulling his face away from Tav’s neck.  Astarion didn’t know what this woman was playing at or lying for but he would find out.

“What else do you have to say?” Astarion looked at Velanna and demanded more than asked.

Velanna sputtered a bit, a little taken aback as she watched everything play out. She took a breath and looked around the room and at all the eyes staring back at here as she continued.

“Eventually Astarion went to higher education and was being groomed by his father for the magistrate position. Astarion was a very intelligent man so within a few years, he became a magistrate when it usually would take five years to a decade to succeed. By then, he was in his thirties because he took some time off of education for his rite.”

“Rite?” Karlach asked.

“Rite of adulthood” Velanna explained “Normally it takes a year, but Astarion was rebelling against one of the elders. It took a bit but he passed. We decided we would be beholden to one another. We couldn’t afford a ring at the time and we wanted to hide it from my parents who thought I could do better. After a few years it came out to Astarion’s parents and they gave us their blessing. They even offered to give Astarion money for a ring but when I was going to get one with him, he disappeared. I scurried around to find him only to hear he...he…” Velanna began to tear up, her eyes became red and glossy, her lip quivered but no tears fell Astarion noted. “Well, they said it was murder. Mr. Ancunin, Astarion’s father was distraught. His mother lost weight and it almost broke them. They moved back to Evereska after the funeral. They couldn’t stand to be here after everything that happened.”

“How did you find me?” Astarion asked as he kissed Tav’s other shoulder.

“I heard about a band of adventurers who slayed a hag and one of the adventurers was your description. I thought it was impossible but I had to check! Some woman in a green dress from the hag situation led me to the Elfsong Tavern. It was funny, the tavern owner thought you were married already because you were with another woman so much. Are you two...you can’t be, right? You keep calling her your lover, so you’re not…?”

“Not what?” Astarion knew where the question was leading but he wanted her to sweat some more.

“Married. Are you two married?”

Tav blushed slightly but didn’t answer, leaving Astarion to fill in the blanks for her.

“Would it matter if we were?” Astarion asked but it seemed Gale had enough.

“Oh, for the love of Mystra! No, they aren't married. Why can’t you be helpful, Astarion?”

“When will you stop butting into my business?”

Finally, it seemed the rest of the companions perked up. Some were against the woman, Minsc surprisingly being one of them because Boo didn’t like her, while others, like Karlach were sympathetic. Shadowheart tried to talk the elven woman out of being in love with Astarion and instead to look for someone else. The woman was again upset and Astarion had heard enough.

“Look, it has been a couple hours and we’re hungry. We might be back, but don’t count on it.” Astarion said before he got up and lightly dragged Tav out the door. Once the door closed, Tav spoke up finally.

“Star, I stayed quiet so you could sort this out, but we haven't really gotten anything we could work with.”

“Let’s go out and get you something to eat, my dear, we can discuss it there. Then, maybe I can get my lunch.” Astarion gave a rakish smile and Tav laughed.

“Oh, no, I’ll make sure your belly is full, but without a potion of healing, we can hold off on making love until later. I’m so sore.”

Astarion chuckled and noted they were out of potions because of the same altercation that brought Velanna to their door. The hag was strong and got a good slice in on Tav’s shoulder blade but Astarion stitched it together with ease. It wasn't big, but it was deep.

“Do you mind getting me something while I lay down?”

“Of course, my love.”

Astarion kissed her chastely and he left her at the door to their room so he could procure some fresh food for the mother of his child. Astarion left the Elfsong and realized that it was a good idea that Tav didn’t accompany them as the weather was turning foul. Snow rolled in like a thick blanket, the temperature had dropped and the wind howled past him.

Astarion dipped into an apothecary on the way to the local cafe and he picked up their entire supply of potions so Tav would be restocked as well as his pack. Astarion smiled at the delicious thoughts in his head and what he could do to Tav after they are healed. Astarion picked up some fruit and protein for his lover before he headed back. Astarion got back relatively fast, fearful that they may get snowed in and went to their room.

Only to find it empty.

It wasn't just empty, there was a sign of a struggle.  

Astarion shrugged his pack back on and dropped the food off on the dresser before checking for her in the companion room.

Astarion entered the room in a frenzy as Gale called out to him.

“Astarion! I didn’t expect you to return. You okay?” Gale asked as Astarion rushed into the room and looked around briefly to find Tav was not present. Angry, Astarion snapped out to Gale a response.

“Have you seen Tav?”

“No, I haven’t. Is everything alright?” Gale now asked again but tentatively.

“No, Tav is missing.”

“Maybe she left you?” Velanna suggested, a smug smile on her face.

Astarion rounded the corner, called upon his vampiric strength he rarely used and thrust his hand into Velanna’s shirt, picking her up by it and slamming her against the wall. Astarion wasn’t thinking, rather he was panicking. He couldn’t think straight, the fear welling up inside him was overwhelming. He wouldn’t have been this way if his room didn’t show signs of a struggle. If his room didn’t look like there was a fight and his lover and child were missing! There was only one new person here and he would bet any amount of gold she knew something about it.

“What did you do to her?” Astarion roared, slamming her back into the wall with each word. Gale and Karlach went to intervene when Astarion snarled. “Don’t you dare!”

The rest of the companions watched as the events unfolded and either were too stunned or confused to act.

“Please Astarion, I didn’t do anything! I love you! Maybe she left!” Velanna pleaded

“She would never leave and you have no fucking clue what love is! I’ve felt it, I’ve held it! You’re fucking nothing!”

“We agree that Tav isnt the type to leave you,” Gale said. “but Velanna was with us the whole time!”

“You don’t understand what is at stake!” Astarion kept thinking about the love of his life and the child nestled within. The child was a gift he shouldn’t have. A gift that was as precious to him as their mother. “There is a blizzard outside! She wouldn’t leave on her own!”

“What do you mean? What is at stake?”

“Gods damn it! Tav is pregnant with our son! MY son!”

At this, a couple things happened rather quickly. Velanna drew a disgusted face and she looked perplexed. Karlach, Gale, Shadowheart and the rest of the companions erupted with chatter, all were surprised except Jaheira who was pushing about how vindicated she was over her belief about Tav being pregnant.

“I knew it, I knew it!” Jaheira exclaimed.

Halsin was the only one who was able to calm the conversations, his booming voice surprising the room. “Tav is missing! This can wait!” His voice thundered.

Astarion slammed Velanna against the wall once more. “Where is my Tav!?”

Velanna just laughed at his question and shook her head. She had stopped pleading some time ago and instead looked amused or upset.

“If I knew that bitch was pregnant I would have stuck a sword in her womb...instead, well...it won’t matter much longer.”

Astarion was still not in his own mind as Scratch came up to the woman as she instigated Astarion and sniffed the woman. Scratch backed up in a hurry and whined, his tail tucked and retreating. Astarion took a breath to stabilize himself and that was when he caught a whiff of whatever the dog had smelled and he tossed the woman at Minsc.

“Restrain her!” Astarion rubbed his nose and replied again “She is a Gur. Her stench is undeniable”  Astarion growled

“You won’t find her!” Velanna chortled and spat at Astarion in glee.

 Astarion went back to the room, Gale, Shadowheart, Halsin and Karlach followed closely behind. Astarion looked around for clues, anything to suggest what had happened and what kind of condition his beloved would be in.

“We have to find her!” Astarion was panicking, fearful of what would happen to her or what may have already been done to her.

“We will, you just need your wits about you.” Gale tried to reassure him.

“She is pregnant. If anything happens to the child…” Astarion was distraught. His son was like a treasure to him and he would be damned if anything happened to that gift! This included Tav who helped him heal and loved him for who he really was. Tav was his light, his freedom and his love.  It was then he caught a scent that was all too familiar to him as he entered their room once again for clues.

Tav’s blood.

[atsadi-shenanigans]

FSBE 13 - Gods Ain't Shit

You learn some things.

On AO3.

“Oh my gods!” Karlach all but squeals. “The Jaheira! Like, the actual Jaheira!”

Good news: y’all found the harper hideout.

Bad news: they almost shot you’uns.

Thank fuck for Wyll and his buckets of charm. He’d been out front as an older lady came out to meet y’all. So he’d been the first up when the old lady pulled a Poison Ivy and lifted vines outta the ground to grab y’all. He was able to stall her long enough for one of the druid grove tiefling kids to run out and recognize y’all.

“Who’s Jaheira?” you say as Astarion fusses and pinches bits of vine out of his armor.

“You never heard of Jaheira?” Karlach says. Girl ain’t modulating her voice down at all. Couple of people look over. Then she blinks. “Right. You’re…she’s a hero. A real, proper one. Fought down a Bhaalspawn back in the day…oh. You don’t know about those either. Bhaal is the god of murder, you get me? And he apparently likes sprouting out kids—don’t ask, I don’t want to think about it. But they’re wicked dangerous. Whole ‘god of murder’ as your dad, yeah?”

You blink. “Y’all got a god of murder?”

Hope the what the fuck ain’t showing.

“You don’t?” Karlach says.

So there’s a whole readjustment of everything you ever known. A sharp ache chisels in behind your right eye.

“We don’t got gods,” you say. “Not real ones, anyway.”

“I’ve been meaning to ask you about that,” Shadowheart says.

Gale already made a beeline over to a woman standing in front of what looks like a ramshackle merchant stall at a ren faire. Wyll is already heading towards the inn, pausing to talk to a group of harpers gathered around a bone-dry fountain.

Lae’zel…she’s just standing there looking bored.

Shit.

You put on your best polite-interest (and not at all judging) face. “Yeah?”

“You’ve said you have no gods several times,” Shadowheart says. Behind her, Karlach makes a yikes face and tiptoes her way outta the conversation. Goddamnit. At least Astarion lingers. “Yet the concept isn’t foreign to you. How is that?”

She’s a cleric. Which means she’s some sort of, what you done put together, a battle nun for her god. Who sounds like a dick. And this one heals y’all.

You really don’t wanna get into it. Astarion knows about your background, and you told Wyll enough he might be suspecting some stuff.

“Some people,” you start. Pause to try to find safe footing. “Some people where I come from do.”

“And you think them, what. False? Liars?”

Fuckshit. She’s way too damn perceptive.

“Ain’t nobody ever seen one. Different civilizations had different pantheons, hundreds of them, and ain’t no physical evidence of any of it being real.”

Shadowheart arches an eyebrow. “So you think your entire people wrong?”

The anger rises hot and fierce like a steam explosion. Pressure spikes up the sides of your neck. You hold your breath a second to keep from saying nothing. Gotta keep calm. Breathe out. Snapping at her ain’t gonna solve shit. Biting somebody’s head off don’t change their mind and usually makes them dig in deeper, like a starving tick.

You ain’t her mama. And though her goddess sounds like she sucks, you ain’t gonna change her mind. She’s a grown ass woman who can make grown ass choices with her grown ass life.

You suck in another deep breath. “I cannot speak for nobody but myself. I don’t know much about y’all’s world; we don’t got magic in mine. But y’all very clearly do. So hell, I might have everything ass backwards. I’m just trying to figure everything out.”

Shadowheart presses her lips thin. Nods once. Don’t seem satisfied, but she don’t seem all huffy, neither. Thus go all shitty compromises.

(Part of you chafes at that, as it always does. You ain’t never been sure if that’s a reflex against your upbringing, or that upbringing manifesting itself into a new variety of self-righteousness. You wonder if you’ll ever know.)

“Do you think they have bathing facilities?” Astarion says. “I, for one, am tired of this filth.”

You should kiss him. But Shadowheart rolls her eyes and disengages, and you don’t want her staring you down any more than she already is.

Gale still talks to the trader or merchant or whoever. Pulls something outta his bag while Karlach pokes around a couple of shields propped against the booth. Lae’zel follows after Shadowheart as the two start across the courtyard. You assume she’s done some Jason Bourne surveying in her head. And Wyll…

Wyll stands at the door of the inn, arm lifted, waving y’all over.

“Oh, what now,” Astarion says.

“Maybe we got rooms?” you say.

“Ugh, I hope so. But with so many vagabonds—”

Who even says that?

“—traipsing about, I doubt they have any room to spare. Still. An honest bed would do wonders.”

He ain’t wrong.

The other people—harpers, you assume—all carry weapons and that light armor. Not metal; maybe leather. Must be more used to ambush attacks than full on assaults. Those kinda tactics tend to work pretty good against armored or heavy ass baggage trains. Ask the French what they thought about the English-allied Cherokee during that war. Before the English fucked over the Cherokees, as they did everybody, eventually.

These guys look fucking tired. Scared. It’s in the way their gazes don’t settle. One man shakes his hand, but when he grips the handle of his spear, fine tremors shiver up and down his fingers.

There’s some kinda low building to the right. A stable, you think. You catch the sound of metal clanging from that way. But then y’all are at the inn doors and ducking into what should be light and warmth. A plush rug and maybe a fish tank. Marble counter tops and a receptionist with a Karen haircut and a shiny name tag.

Instead, wood creaks underfoot and you look deeper into the building to what’s clearly a bar. Several people slump over it. One’s red, another blue. More tieflings.

“Hey, you! You look an enterprising sort!”

A small voice from down low. Tucked up into the corner is a red tiefling kid. He’s scrawny as hell, clothes patched and frayed, and…weirdly familiar.

“Oh no, not this little deviant,” says the biggest deviant you know. To the kid, Astarion says, “You’re lucky we’re not in any civilized place. They tend to punish thieves.”

Right. Kid from the grove. The one hawking stuff while his friend picked your pocket.

You still give Astarion a look. “How’d you get all them pillows outside your tent?”

“Through charm and wit.”

“Aw, it’s you,” the kid whines. “Don’t suppose you got more coin than pocket lint this time?”

“Nope,” you say.

The kid runs a clawed hand through his hair. Mutters something in a raspy language.

“Excuse me?” Astarion says.

The kid blinks, but don’t look any kind of mollified. Just tired. “Move along. If you can’t pay, you’re taking up room for someone who can. Where’s the funny man with the purple robe?”

Gale, who probably just dumped all y’all’s group money on a pile of sausages.

“You can speak his language?” you say to Astarion, still glaring like a kicked cat.

“That wasn’t his language, unless our tiny friend here is very good at shape changing. Though I am curious as to how he might have learned the language of the Abyss.”

“Oh.” The kid smirks. “You get called that enough to recognize it, then?”

Okay, fuck no.

You step between the two. That’s a nice thing about your size. If you wanna make yourself a problem, you are hard as fuck to ignore.

“Y’all made it this far, huh?” you say. And win, when the kid looks away from Astarion to you.

But his face goes eerily blank for a second before he smiles. Or tries to.

And you seen that before. The younger kids on the farmstead looked like that sometimes after a worship session. After a holy cleansing. Because being loud brought the Aunts, and crying brought the other kids, and it was hard sometimes to tell which was worse.

“Some of us,” the kids says. Give a one-shouldered shrug. Acting all cool and unbothered.

Being very, very bothered.

“What happened?” you say. You almost kneel down to his (her?) level, but you’ve cracked their armor now, and calling attention to it like that, reminding them how small they are is just gonna crack that deeper.

“What always happens,” the kid says. “We got attacked. Lost some people. The lucky ones made it here.”

The inn is awfully empty. Some of them tieflings looked ready to fight. Might just be outside with the harpers. Or up in rooms somewhere. But this place—trapped beneath a glowing, silver dome—ain’t that big.

“So are you gonna buy something or not?” the kid says. “Cause my crew is still looking to set up a business once we reach the city, and we need to start a principal.”

It takes a second for that one to translate. Principal, as in…chief? Top? School?

Astarion leans in. “He means an investment fund.”

Right. Sure thing, dirt potion.

“What’cha selling?” you say.

And that pipsqueak gives you the most incredulous once-over you ever did see. “You said you didn’t have any money.”

“I don’t.” You turn. Find Astarion glaring over your shoulder. Give him your most wide-eyed smile. “But he does.”

“Don’t you dare,” he says.

“You heard him. It’s an investment. Wouldn’t hurt to get on the ground floor of a promising new venture, huh?”

The worm in your head shudders. Shivers. Reaches out so you can press into him the ice-cold iron of “not abandoning a traumatized child.”

His worm shies away. His frown twists into a narrow-eyed scowl. And then he lifts up a coin—copper. You look at it. Look at him. Hold that gaze.

He sighs. “Suit yourself. But I expect repayment in full, darling.”

And pulls a gold coin out of thin air to toss at you.

You manage to catch it. Just. Sigh yourself as he pivots and heads over towards Wyll, standing further in.

You thought you was getting into him a little. He’s eased up around you, just a bit. Hasn’t threatened to eat either Scratch or Sweetums in a while. But asking him to show the tiniest sliver of empathy towards anyone but you—and even that’s pushing it—and it’s like trying to get a cat to swallow a pill. A cat who don’t like you all that much.

You press your lips tight as you watch him go. Finally turn back to the kid. Hold up the coin. “Let’s see your wares, huh?”

[justmightyshadows]

Jaheira Confesses BG3 Fic Feb Day 3

This is my day 3 (I am not even trying to keep up). You can see the prompts here. This is #21 SFW . This is part one and part two is here.

This one is RATED T

I would say SFW but they're in a bath so you'll be filling in some blanks.

Thiramen - love(elvish)

The bath water was hot, steam whipped off the surface into the cold air of the night as you had the windows open to let in the sweet smell of fresh air along with a gentle breeze. You slide down until reaches just under your chin and lean back to wet the top of your scalp and hair. There is a stillness where the water surrounds your ears and leaves you floating almost inside its warm embrace. Jaheira approached you quietly, shedding her clothes and lowering herself opposite you. The small waves cause you to open your eyes and investigate.

You take in the woman before you - her silvery hair uncharacteristically without braids, her body is scarred and worn from battle as she sits with her arms atop the edge of the bath staring at you. “I thought you had already gone to bed, veluthe* (beautiful-elvish)” You say throwing out a compliment you are sure will get under her skin but instead of shooting you down she smiles “I would not be able to rest until I saw you. Not after the battle today.” You had just returned from saving Minsc. Jaheira had shed tears of relief once he was safe in camp but pushed you away once you had tried to comfort her. You had made your way to the bath and she, you figured, was fast asleep.

“A great day, why does the battle leave you so unsure as to stay awake?” You wonder if she is ready to talk about all of this, moving forward like this could cause her to become upset but there really isn’t much else to talk about. “Let me braid your hair for the night, come here.” She changes the subject so abruptly it takes you by surprise but soon you are swishing backwards towards her. You come to rest against her thighs as she kneels to get to the top of your hair. She takes her time cleaning, combing and braiding the long locks into a single braid that she rests gently on your shoulder. “I owe you thanks - for saving Minsc, for listening to a mad woman like me and for standing up to the Emperor. None of it was easy, or wise but I am grateful nonetheless.” She presses against you and leaves a kiss against your exposed shoulders the skin rising in goosebumps as she releases. “Are you getting soft on me High Harper?” You say leaning back to catch her face throw back for a full laugh. “I am trying to be serious for once and this is how you repay me. Next time I’ll let the deed go without thanks. Duly noted.” She sighs as you turn around. “You’re welcome, Jaheira. You know that I think you were worth all of the headaches.” You respond sensing her frustration. She stares at you - before she speaks again. “It is more than that, I do not say this lightly. We have more than just a friendly bond, it is something I have not felt in a long time.” Her arms wrap around your neck pulling you close and into the water, warming you. “Tell me now if you do not feel the same but I believe you do. We have shared a bed, a blade and now a journey. I want you by my side whatever comes next, I don’t want the regret of waiting for the right time, whatever that means.” She leans in without waiting for your reply pressing her lips against yours and gently biting against your bottom lip, when she releases you whimper slightly and place your hands around her gently. “Is this is your way of saying you love me?”

She glares and pulls you forward by the hips - splashing water over the sides of the bath “If I have to spell it out for you then yes - I love you.” Her eyes are fierce and expectant “I love you too Jaheira” you respond. She stands - the water sliding down her body as she exits the bath.

“Good, I would look rather foolish if you had said no. Now come, we can pour affection on each other in the bed. I’m getting even more wrinkles sitting in the bath for so long.” She towels off in front of you, slowly caressing each spot before she heads into the bedroom without looking back at you.

Pt 2 will be NSFW Prompt #10 ;)