# AURENTAIE : an independent, selective, mutual-exclusive rp blog for SEREGIL í KORIT SOLUN MERINGIL BÔKTHERSA from Lynn Flewelling's 1990's NIGHTRUNNER book series, established August 2024. written by fel(icity), 30+, she/her.
21+ ONLY. SLOW AF / LOW ACTIVITY. ICONLESS / MINIMALIST. HEAVILY HEADCANON-BASED. CROSSOVER & AU FRIENDLY. verses in d&d/baldur's gate; modern crime; urban fantasy; etc. find me also at @judgementkazukun & @bitesharder.
LINKS: carrd / rules / interaction guide / memes / in character / meta
CANON DIVERGENCES:
This blog diverges from canon regarding Sebrahn's involvement in Shadows Return and The White Road. I do not plan to acknowledge him on this blog. Nothing about the decisions made with him around make sense or are congruent with Seregil as a character, particularly in The White Road. And, more importantly, I am a hater.
its monday and im already burnt out from work! i may try to write on k's blog later this week but. i will probably only be reachable on discord for the next couple days.
I AM NOT AFRAID TO KEEP ON LIVING, I AM NOT AFRAID TO WALK THIS WORLD ALONE. (promo credit)
#BITESHARDER. independent urban fantasy original character killian léandre dupois. crossover, au, multi friendly. impulsively and chaotically created by FEL.
Perhaps he should have expected this. Seregil didn't do things by half, nor did he fail to meet challenges when presented. Even if Thero hadn't particularly meant to present it as a challenge. He was a challenge, wasn't he? Thero should take a little pride in that.
It was difficult. Once they opened the door, it was opened. Thero learned first hand why some of the wizards kept that door closed. He learned why Nysander didn't. They should have stopped. But Thero found that he didn't care to. He was nearly certain that he was not the best conquest for Seregil. But he was enthusiastic and he liked to think they played well together the last time.
Maybe he wanted it to be more than bodies meeting. It certainly stirred something within Thero's chest. The wizard mostly tried to ignore it, but it snuck into the smile on his lips as Seregil led them deeper into the library.
This, Thero realized as his back pressed against the bookshelf, was his favorite section. Secluded, certainly, but the spines here had seen his face and opened in his hands more than any other section here. He wondered if Seregil knew that or if it was blind luck that led to them defiling his favorite place. He would not be able to browse here without thinking of this, he didn't think. The books disturbed Thero's curls. He feels himself caught between the shelves and Seregil's pressing mouth. Any other person, any other context, he might have minded. But it was Seregil. And there was a certain thrill that came with the thought of someone seeing them fumbling in the darkness of the stacks.
It would remain there until the mortification of that actually happening overturned it. For now, however, Thero would indulge in the fantasizing. Beyond, shamefully, grasping hands in darkened stacks. Pressed foreheads. Damp breath. He wanted. Of course he did. He wondered if Nysander knew this would happen.
He wondered too about infatuation. Or if he could call what was developing behind his breast that alone. In as many ways as they had each other to hate, Thero felt there were few who would understand him the way that Seregil did. Perhaps that was why it was so frustrating that he was being played like one of Seregil's instruments.
And that he liked it. And wanted more. That he wanted Seregil to feel as he did. To study him in the way he did magic, to learn and understand the very essence of him. To take to it like it was inherent. Perhaps Seregil could be inherent.
Thero pushed the foolish feelings aside for the moment and let himself feel and kiss and be kissed and touched. Handled like one of Seregil's treasures for but a moment. One he was excited to steal, perhaps.
His breath was already catching and Seregil had barely kissed him. Curse this infernal need to be touched. Seregil might be in no hurry, and Thero could use that to slow himself (patience is a virtue after all) a little, but he wanted more. It was a fiery want beneath those infuriating robes of his. Thero hiked up Seregil's tunic as best he could, fingers seeking the warmth of his skin and the quick beating of his heart like it might tell Thero that he wasn't crazy for wanting. Or for thinking he was wanted. Seregil's heart was not protected here. Thero could press his fingers against the cage of his chest and pretend that it beat for him. At least for a little while.
Seregil's voice slithered down his spine and left Thero shuddering. He fluttered his fingers over Seregil's chest, fingertips catching on a nipple just once. He shifted his hips, free hand moving to try and gather his robes as quickly as he could. Lift them. Get a little more friction. The books rattled a little on the shelf as he moved. Damned things.
The sound that left Thero's mouth was shameful. His ears and neck burned. "Good. I like a challenge." The I'm insatiable too, you bastard remained unsaid. That was almost a promise as he finally managed to get enough of the circle of his skirt up to gather at his waist instead. Difficult with one hand. But not impossible.
His skin tingled under his shirt, where Thero's fingertips touched him. When Thero's fingers brushed his nipple, he'd sucked in a sharp breath, even though it was just the one time.
Thero was getting those annoying robes out of the way. He seemed eager for it. Even though he'd now had a glimpse of that before, it still managed to surprise him. Thero, in this context, was still as determined and stubborn as ever, but he was something else too. Certainly, he wasn't the straitlaced prude he'd been trying to convince everyone he was. And Seregil was, at least for now, the only person privy to that fact. It was one of many secrets he'd learned over the years, but this one had a special place in a glass case that Seregil had to try very hard to convince himself was not already in his heart. But that effort was for later. Now was for something else.
He cupped Thero's face with a hand. "Is that so?"
The question was purely rhetorical. Seregil had never doubted that Thero liked a challenge. And Seregil had plenty of challenges to throw at him. At least in the context of what they had going on here. He had the upper hand, at least for now, and he intended to enjoy that to the fullest extent Thero would let him. And it was a challenge for himself, too, he supposed, to find exactly where that line lay.
He leaned forward, kissed Thero again on the mouth, then on the neck. His hips started moving again, repetitious now that Thero had managed to get some of that fabric out of the way. His cock was throbbing, straining against his pants and undergarments, and he could hear his own breath becoming heavy.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, he wondered if he should be embarrassed to be dry humping in the library, given all the private quarters he had access to. Despite the many people he'd bedded, he could remember only one that had been anything like this — stolen furtive moments in conspicuous and inconspicuous places. And despite Thero not having any twin in line for the Queendom's crown that might walk in on them, this somehow felt even more dangerous.
It was exhilarating. He was already becoming addicted to the thrill of it. He'd be lying if he claimed not to know about his excitement about doing things like this in risky places. That it was with Thero only amplified it all exponentially. A thought that could be dwelled on later.
Instead, he'd try to amplify it even more. Toe the line further, displace it, if he could. Push it further so they wouldn't have to cross it.
Who needed to dwell on thoughts about what was going on in his heart anyway? Right now, he was far more focused on grinding their hips together, moaning lightly against Thero's mouth, and touching as much of Thero as he could reach. He ran his hands up the exposed parts of Thero's thighs now that those robes were gone. He squeezed warm, soft flesh, something between desperate and tender.
He wondered if they'd ever get each other out of their systems. He was beginning to think he didn't want to.
Pulling his mouth away, he let his labored breathing blow against Thero's ear. Only for a moment, before a whispered confession: "I've thought about you inside me every night since last time." He licked his lips carefully, searching Thero's face with his eyes as he caught his breath.
An idea was occurring to him, had already occurred to him, was less of a thought really and more of an instinctual desire. He looked at Thero a bit like he might a coconspirator, eyes light with something as mischievous as it was dangerous. "How much of a challenge are you up for?" Bringing one hand to the back of Thero's head, he whispered very closely into Thero's ear again, "Think you can keep quiet if I put my lips around your cock here?"
His weight shifted back just enough for him to lower to his knees, hands tracing down Thero's body as he did so.
"Or would you like it if someone caught me on my knees just for you?" An accidental slip, an accidental intentional slip. He knew better than to think Thero might not catch it. Might not figure out that Seregil might like that, for someone to see Thero had thrown away all those silly thoughts of celibacy. That Seregil was the one he'd done it with.
"Tell me no now, if you're going to," Seregil said, attempting to nuzzle against his crotch and look up at his face simultaneously. It was a bit awkward, but he was about half-successful.
we all collectively focus too much on seregil's fondness of necklaces cursed by necromancers. and not nearly enough on the time he turned himself into a brick (literal).
Oh ok so it turns out ive been borrowing grief from the future ! it turns out ive been preparing to lose the things i love rather than basking in the light of them while they last. Maybe i should nt do that
ANOTHER LOW CHUCKLE RUMBLES IN HIS CHEST, cut short by a sharp pain stabbing his sides. “right, right. can’t have that.” a dead man in the bushes would certainly sour lord seregil’s image. a dead litigator even more so. a dead and blind litigator.
matthew’s expression turns pensive then. he presses his lips into a thin line. hums quietly in thought. “one of your neighbors has some evidence in his home that might, ah, help me convict him.” as a rule, matt spends as little time among the high socialites as possible, but he doesn’t need to be particularly close to hear them laughing about wage theft and money laundering while their dock workers are losing limbs to infections.
he can feel the heat radiating from the other’s skin, flushed with frustration, angry heart drumming in his chest. maybe matt is implicating himself. seregil could throw his ass out and march over to the courts right now. but he continues on. “the man’s house was more heavily guarded than i thought it would be. they roughed me up. i got away. my ego is more bruised than my body is.” and he's pretty damn bruised. his countenance goes sheepish again and he shrugs. “and that’s why i was bleeding under your peony bush.”
At least he has the presence of mind to look embarrassed. Though Seregil's eyes narrow in response to that sheepish look. That shrug and attempt to look harmless. Does he believe Seregil is an idiot? Has Seregil given him reason to think him an idiot? Almost definitely, he can only assume most people think Lord Seregil is nothing more than a vapid socialite, and that is certainly on purpose.
Even so, Matt's attempt at swindling him is, if nothing else, bold. Seregil might be impressed were he not the one it was directed at in this moment. He licks his lips, presses them carefully together, and forces a deep breath before speaking.
"You thought to..." Seregil starts, but it doesn't sound quite right. He puts more emphasis on it. "You thought to do a bit of burglary?"
He doesn't mean to be offensive or anything like that, but... well, it is a tough enough job to climb up rafters and sneak through windows or unlocked balcony doors without getting caught, even with the ability of sight. He hadn't pegged the other man as so much as reckless, let alone... well, he won't say stupid, but he's certainly thinking as much.
Seregil blinks. "And don't give me that look like you're trying to convince me you made some kind of honest mistake. I've made enough dishonest mistakes in my own time to recognize the difference."
He considers it for one moment. Then steps forward. "Can you walk with help? At the very least, I'd rather you were washed up before letting you into the bedding in the guest chambers."
