whomuses

[whomuses]

open rp || gale dekarios

The idea had come to him since discovering the true nature of the orb in his chest. It itched and scratched in the back of his mind. Since Elminster had stabilised the orb, the potential of that ball of energy was chewing on Gale's mind. After all, it was… the weave. Just - something new, changed, different, unpredictable, but weave none the less… and if there was one thing Gale sought in this world, it was understanding.

Mystra wanted him to blow up? Well, what did it matter if he just… dug in a little? Late at night, in his tent, he explored. Oh so carefully. Reaching out as he would to wind to weave to his words, but instead of drawing from around him, he tugged from the centre of his chest. It didn't come easily, it didn't wish to bow, sending icy tendrils through his arm, throbbing in his chest, but after a moment he persisted…

The grass underneath him withered, blackened, and turned to dust. There was a surge of power, a surge of white heat, scorching like acid or brandy through his veins. Gone in an instant, and yet… something addictive about it. Thrilled by discovery, Gale had exited his tent, moving some distance away into the woods - away from the others and the risk of judgement. Taking a deep breath, everything calm and measured as he held his unbandaged arm out, murmuring the incantation for light - and instead of a glowing ball forming, there was a flicker, and then a tiny black spot appeared - growing as big as a clenched fist, the inversion of light itself, drawing everything into it. That pain began to spark through his veins again, nature around him starting to wither.

[whomuses]

open rp || gale dekarios

The idea had come to him since discovering the true nature of the orb in his chest. It itched and scratched in the back of his mind. Since Elminster had stabilised the orb, the potential of that ball of energy was chewing on Gale's mind. After all, it was… the weave. Just - something new, changed, different, unpredictable, but weave none the less… and if there was one thing Gale sought in this world, it was understanding.

Mystra wanted him to blow up? Well, what did it matter if he just… dug in a little? Late at night, in his tent, he explored. Oh so carefully. Reaching out as he would to wind to weave to his words, but instead of drawing from around him, he tugged from the centre of his chest. It didn't come easily, it didn't wish to bow, sending icy tendrils through his arm, throbbing in his chest, but after a moment he persisted…

The grass underneath him withered, blackened, and turned to dust. There was a surge of power, a surge of white heat, scorching like acid or brandy through his veins. Gone in an instant, and yet… something addictive about it. Thrilled by discovery, Gale had exited his tent, moving some distance away into the woods - away from the others and the risk of judgement. Taking a deep breath, everything calm and measured as he held his unbandaged arm out, murmuring the incantation for light - and instead of a glowing ball forming, there was a flicker, and then a tiny black spot appeared - growing as big as a clenched fist, the inversion of light itself, drawing everything into it. That pain began to spark through his veins again, nature around him starting to wither.

[whomuses]

// I owe a lot of folks but also. I want. More. More threads. Gimme threads. Come talk to me. I want more THREADS.

[whomuses]

Unaware of the figure above them, eyes were fixed on the tombstone; the honey brown of Avalara, the blue-green of Erlathan, as they stared in disbelief at the tombstone in front of them. Someone had vandalised it, too, it seemed - it had a strange look. Partially kempt, but with damage that would say it had been left abandoned for a very long time. After a moment, Avalara moved away from Erlathan, crouching - reaching out to brush her fingertips over the deep grooves in the stone. She didn't seem to even notice the mud getting onto her gown, now, and Erlathan moved closer too. He cut an imposing figure, even with the naturally svelte build of a high elf. He reached out and rested a hand on her shoulder.

"I cannot believe it has been… so long." he said, voice shaking, just a hint, escaping past his high society passive demeanour. His throat bobbed. "How could we have not known?" "I thought he was angry at us, as he had every right to be. Sending him away, so young…" Avalara said, her eyes drifting up to her husband. "Did we make a mistake?" "We could not have predicted this." Erlathan soothed, encouraging her upright. "We could not have known, my dear. Look - we shall go back to the apartment. Conclude our business here, go back home." he paused, eyes flickered down to the grave again, inhaling slowly.

Avalara got to her feet, carefully starting to dust down her dress, grimacing as she looked at the mess she'd made of it. "At least I shall fit in down here," she said, with a sigh, "What a waste… yes. We will go back to the apartment for now." she murmured, leaning in, and Erlathan wrapped his arms around her in a brief embrace.

Then they turned to leave the graveyard, making their way back through the gate until they entered the upper district. As they transitioned from the lower path, their demeanor shifted. Backs straightened, steps fell into a more unnatural gliding walk, noses tilted slightly back as they went, arm in arm. Back into the position of powerful people, unbothered by those around. Finally, they entered a building; tall and imposing. Some time later the doors of a balcony opened, revealing the inside.

A hotel room, in essence; but for the uppermost echelon of the Gate.

Naturally, he'd had eyes on them from the time they entered the city. He'd been out and about, taking care of various little errands and enjoying life beneath the sun once more (thanks to a few clever little spells and a rather admittedly lovely ring from Gale).

One of the few perks of his time in Baldur's Gate had been life away from his parents, admittedly not without their watching from afar. Of course, any contact from the city concerning his...unfortunate near demise had not made it past their couriers. The Ancunin clan kept a rather harsh eye on any missives coming from...well...those that looked of a lesser social status. He was sure the city had sent a low level courier, thus making them turn the poor wretch away at the garden gate. And now to be so upset about not receiving any news...

He felt a familiar and overarching irritation churning in his gut. To be fair, he'd not been a magistrate of any standing, after all. He was shrewd, yes, but he had no care for any upward mobility within that circle. He'd wanted a quiet life when he was young. Perhaps even to study music and the arts, become a bard of some standing. But in reality he was far more book inclined, before...everything. He was quiet, and he enjoyed the company of the flower gardens and a good novel. He'd not become....whatever he was now until...well, after Cazador. Not that his memories of how things had been before were well defined in any sense. Perhaps they would have been if he'd held his previous memories in any esteem before Cazador leeched them out of his skull...if he'd felt any strong emotion about his parents to begin with, then perhaps he wouldn't have forgotten so much of his life so easily.

But...perhaps he wanted to forget them. The thought passed idly through his mind as he lounged atop a limb in the tree, looking down at them through the willow leaves. He remembered standing not thirty feet away a few months ago with Karlach, hearing how she held her parents in such esteem....and now she was confined to the hells with Tav. But he'd left a few flowers for them, just in case. He had no desire to take a direct hit from a displeased Karlach.

Astarion listened once more to their less then hushed tones, his lip curling in displeasure. "Would it kill you to muster some sort of sincerity?" he muttered to himself, taking a rather deep breath to steady himself. No matter. He'd wait till they left and pay them a little visit later, once they were alone. Wouldn't do to add himself to their little spectacle. He had no desire to watch the entirety of the graveyard watch his personal life play out.

[whomuses]

Let Me Rest

Exhaustion starters!! because i'm so tired man. im so tired. i slept 12 hours and im still so tired.

"You can barely stand any more."

"You're wobbling on your feet."

"When's the last time you rested?"

"Hey - come on - let me help you to bed."

"I got you a blanket."

"No - stop complaining - you're laying down."

"You're going to destroy yourself at this rate."

"You have to rest sometimes."

"I want you to feel better."

"If you feel like everyone hates you, you need to sleep."

"Okay, you're... not making any sense. Go to bed."

"Sleep isn't a failure."

"Rest is important."

"Shut up. Go to bed."

"The nightmares are... really bad..."

"I don't know when I last slept..."

"I'm gonna... elephant the beam... 'n I'm... uh..."

"I texted my friend "spu auash guahg." what does that mean?"

"If I'm going to bed then you... you... uh..."

"... will you stay with me tonight?"

"It's cold..."

"I wanna, um.. I just... bit longer..."

"Just getting a glass of water."

"Nooo I don't need t'sleep..."

"M'fine. It's... is fine. I'm..."

"I've never been so tired in my whole life."

"I've been laying here for hours and I can't sleep."

"I want to cry. I hate this."

"There's nothing left in me."

"I feel like a jukebox. Juice - juice box. Empty juice box."

[whomuses]

“Hold still. I have a bandage." Lyra to Halsin

~ @thethreefaes

"Oh, it's nothing - nothing at all." Halsin said, waving a hand, before pressing the large palm over the laceration on his bicep. It was bleeding heavily, dripping down onto his tanned skin. "I reassure you, I need nothing but nature's bounty to get it all fixed up. No need to waste supplies on such a thing."

[whomuses]

open rp || caedes

Sleep didn't come easy; the fear of the urge hovered. The nightmares, too. It had been days since they'd gotten more than fleeting snatches of dozes, spending their nights wandering the camp; tidying and cleaning to keep hands busy. The same could be said for the food. Choking down bites now and again; no matter what went into them, it was all the same. Reeking of rot and decay, a foul, toxic taste. Only the occasional bone they would crunch down when the meal was finished, or, on occasion, a mouthful of viscera as they tore out an enemy's throat.

It had been a long day; camp wasn't far. The dragonborn stumbled, head spinning. A moment later, they grimaced, headache spiking. Feet caught again, pausing to breathe, suddenly winded. The world was tilting sideways. Strange loops and swirls. Gods, the headache - their limbs were shaking. "M'okay." the word, a mumbled, half slurred thing, was perhaps undercut as their knees buckled entirely.

[whomuses]

Open rp || dark urge Caedes

He startled. There was no other word for it, truly; they had been still, staring into space, and the moment that someone came into their eyeline, there was a jolt, a quick flash of teeth before they snapped back to reality. "What do you want?" the words - too sharp, too harsh. They swallowed hard. "Sorry, I - I'm tired, uh." brows drew in as the dragonborn glanced away, "Is there... was there something you wanted?"

[whomuses]

(◕ᴖ◕)

[whomuses]

He felt the wash of the magic, but it didn't do anything except a moment of comforting warmth. There was nothing it could heal, nothing that would work right now, the karsite weave gnawing at him; it felt like his heart was stuttering, it's life being pressed upon by the orb in his chest. Each breath hot and sharp in his lungs, his eye burning, arm throbbing. He couldn't even see properly, the fear with it's fangs into him.

"I - I don't know -" he wheezed out, terror heavy in his tone, eyes flickering rapidly as he tried to look up at Honor. The purple light shone from his pupil and sclera, blackened both, the lines that sliced through his face mimicking even if in a far paler form. He hesitated, but reached out anyway. Immediately the orb was grasping hungrily at the locket, tugging the atoms of it into his chest. The lights died back but the pain - Gods, the pain remained.

Slumping down, Gale curled into a ball, wondering if this was it. He was to die, and the orb would detonate, it would all be over… "I'm so sorry -" he rasped, tears dripping down his cheeks.

Honor had been covering the back line well, with slung spells of healing and the odd bit of charisma-infused magic that both aided his allies and made their enemies' lives so much more difficult. A sharp epithet struck down a small, injured enemy encroaching on their position, but when they looked up to provide more support all they saw were ashes and bodies and a falling wizard.

"Gale!" A worried noise from somewhere behind Gale, the tiefling running up with quiet steps and a sharp-nailed hand over the wizard's shoulder. "Te Curo," they incanted the words for Cure Wounds with smooth notes that came out a bit ragged with the speed of the spell. Ribbons of blue energy went searching for injuries to heal, though Honor suspected they may find none. "Are you alright? Do you need to eat more magic or something of the like?"

He could heal, and he knew intimately how to inflict pain- but the reduction of it or anything other than basic battlefield triage Honor found nigh impossible. The bard tugged hard at a chain around his own neck, allowing the locket to break off before offering it to Gale.

[whomuses]

Durge tried his hand at poetry 🥺🖤

Gortash should be more appreciative….

[whomuses]

// When I can make my brain work, I'm going to try to write something w a Gale embracing the necrotic power of the orb and somehow utilising it as a weapon... and of course corrupting hehehehee...

[whomuses]

❝ Have you hear : Astarion is awfully afraid of scissors. I think that's a strange fear, in all honesty. ❞

"Of scissors?" Gale questioned, raising his brows, "Well, I mean - there are many strange fears in this world, you understand. I'm sure there will be a good reason for it - I have a few strange and unusual fears myself. Not that I am... going to share them right now, of course." he cleared his throat, after a moment.

[whomuses]

// It's been a hot minute but I've been chipping away at the animation!! in the final stretch for the flat colours, then it's just the details (beardy bits, caedes red bits, and eyes) and THEN shading and then... it'll be done.

[whomuses]

Send, "You weren't meant to see that." for sender to walk in on receiver nude!

[whomuses]

As the morning light began to cast it's warm beams across the ground, the dew rising, the bird shook itself awake. They waited until the horse had managed to stir, listening to the increasing heartbeat until she was starting to get up. After a moment, they got up too, slowly up to their feet; they roused, shaking out every feather in a fast but dramatic movement, releasing a small cloud of dust and dander. It was a relief, much like stretching, although they did that too, expanding their wings to their full length. A real preen would have to wait until they had time.

Watching for a few moments as the horse grazed, Terra wandered away. Their stomach was growling; raw meat would do, but they also longed for hot stews and porridges, cheeses and breads… the staples of their home. Home. They could try to make their way back, although with a failed mission, having lost their armor and the meagre gold their family had saved for the journey… that would be somewhat embarrassing.

Watching from one eye as the horse grazed, they felt the wind with their wingtips. Hm. Not quite enough heat yet to fly easily, and taking off from the ground was tiring. They could find their way back to the treeline and take off there… but it would also require flight.

They hadn't yet spoken to Sabrina, but it didn't seem… necessary. Oh. They murmured; and the spell, one of the very few they could actually utilise, flushed over their body. Now able to communicate with animals again, good. The horse could eat, and they would be able to travel. They vaguely remembered meeting a wizard in a smaller town, before they'd been caught by the slavers… perhaps help would be there.

As she lay there, the night grew colder, and she could feel the dew forming on the grass beneath her. Her fur was thick and would keep her warm, but she knew that wasn't what he meant by her strength coming back. The curse took away her humanity and left her as a mare in all sense of the word. She wondered if she'd ever feel human again and be able to look in a mirror and recognize herself. Her thoughts grew fuzzier, and she felt her eyelids getting heavier. Sleep was finally claiming her.

The mare's breathing grew steady and deep as she succumbed to the embrace of slumber. Her body remained tense at first, the unfamiliar sensation of four legs beneath her making it hard to relax. But soon enough, she found a rhythm to her sleep, and the tension melted away. The quiet whispers of the night grew distant as she drifted into a realm of dreams. In her mind, she was still human, and the world was still as it should be. There was no curse, no fear of the dark, just the comfort of a soft bed and everything was normal once more.

The first light of dawn gently kissed the horizon, painting the sky with hues of pink and orange. The chorus of early morning creatures began to stir, their melodies weaving through the silence. Slowly, she awoke, the dream fading away as the reality of her new form settled back in. Her eyes blinked open, and she was met with the sight of dew-laden grass glistening in the early light. Her stomach rumbled, reminding her of the hunger that had been present since she transformed. She sat up, shaking off the last remnants of sleep, and looked around knowing that they would have a great deal of distance to travel today.

With a yawn that stretched her entire equine body, she stood up on her four legs, feeling the stretch in muscles she was still getting used to. Her jaws parted in a yawn. As she regained her bearings, the smell of the grass grew more tempting. She cautiously bent down, her human mind questioning the action, but her horse instincts driving her forward. Her teeth met the tender blades, and she began to chew, the action feeling surprisingly natural despite her reservations. The grass was cool and crisp, the taste faintly sweet. It was surprisingly filling, and she felt a bit of energy return to her limbs with each bite.

[whomuses]

"How can you know down here?" he groused, but he was looking a litlte more alive as he was forced into his day clothes. He immediately missed the soft, familiar comfort of his camp clothes, but did his best to wake up a little. Nausea curled lowly in his stomach as he adjusted his gloves, grateful for the disguising over his bandages. He was still definitely moving slowly, deciding to do things manually instead of casting spells as he managed to pack up his equipment. From casting an incantation for the smallest task, to this; with the tadpole, he had to be extra careful not to waste any energy - his magic might be needed for more destructive means, after all.

"And it'll keep being similar if you don't get moving soon," he murmured softly. "Eyes open, come on. It's nearing mid morning. We've got to get going." Admittedly, he was a bit selfish with the physical contact-he had missed his brother, after all. A flick of the wrist and a few clever incantations and he'd managed to at the least get Gale into his armor and see to his hair. "Still got it." he grinned.