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❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
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Monterey Bay Aquarium
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Love Begins
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if i look back, i am lost
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@celestialdetected
Arawn Howell: Detective. Father. Chosen. Celestial Warlock OC. Champion of Sarenrae. Penned and loved by Em. 18+ & Mutuals Only. A study in fated choices versus free will, second chances at life, and what it means to be a good person
SIDEBLOG. follows back from bardicinspired
RULES | ABOUT | VERSES
😭😭😭 i only have rice
The pale eyed tiefling gave a smile as the other spoke. He could hear the strain in his voice, and through his familiar's eyes he could see the wounds he bore.
"There's no need to feign pleasantries if you're hurting, my friend. Allow me." He extended a hand, his palm giving off a faint white glow as he rested it upon Arawn's shoulder, offering a bit of relief from his pain. It wouldn't heal him completely, but it would at least soothe the ache a bit.
"There's an inn nearby that I happened to find myself at right as they were in need of a little extra light. And because of the moon's blessing that I've earned, I've tasked myself with aiding them against the shadows." He gives a soft laugh, "They must be quite desperate to seek help from a blind wizard, wouldn't you agree?"
Oh come on, he wasn't that transparent, was he? That was embarrassing, his mask was slipping. He sighed as the other man healed him, he could've done it himself but he had learned, over hard years, that it was best to conserve spells on the road. Especially when the next meal was not a certainty.
"I know that inn," Arawn said. "There's some good people working there, and it's the only place to get a drink until you get to Baldur's Gate. "
"You and I have a common purpose friend, I'll gladly drink to that."
Oh, this conversation will be like pulling teeth. Not for Puck. Sweet, oblivious, stupid Puck. But instead for Arawn, the poor fool who fell into bed with the world's most clueless bachelor in history.
Puck's head tilts like a dog's. Eyebrows knit further together as the man digests Arawn's words. Admittedly, they don't make much sense to him, which makes him feel worse.
❝ We- . . . did ？❞
He doesn't remember that. He thinks he would have remembered something like that. ( Then again, there are many things he doesn't remember. )
His face heats up with embarrassment, tips of his pointed ears turning pink as he realizes how far out of his own depths he is right now. This always happens. This inability to grasp something everyone else seems to know but is entirely out of his reach. He can almost feel the air blowing through the holes in his skull.
Betrayal. The word makes his skin crawl. You broke his trust.
Eyes wide with genuine horror, Puck gasps, ❝ Oh, no ！！❞
Oh, he fucked up. Oh, he fucked up very badly. Something got very lost in translation, and he fucked it all up very, very badly.
❝ I didn't- I didn't know ！I thought we were . . . ❞ Just having fun. His voice trails off, gut telling him he shouldn't finish that sentence.
Puck chews his lip, looking anywhere other than Arawn. ❝ I would have asked first if I knew ; I didn't mean to hurt you, I swear . . . ❞
Arawn is embarrassed. He feels it from the tips of his toes to his cheeks, like he's suddenly too big for his skin, like he wants the ground to swallow him up, like going back to Avernus would be better than this.
Because, of course, the one thing Arawn forgot to do when jumping into what he thought was a new relationship was TALK. He forgot to fucking talk about it. And now Puck's here.
Puck, who's sweet despite the violence staining his soul and his hands. Puck, who's looking at him with big, remorseful eyes, sorry for a slight he didn't even know he committed.
And Arawn wants to scream, he wants to do something to hide his embarrassment, he hopes, wildly for bandits, so he could have an excuse to hurt someone, just to escape this situation.
Instead he flexes his fists, until his nails bite into his palms, and says; "It's alright. " He breathes, in and out. "Puck, if you didn't know, then that's my fault. I'm sorry."
"You're fine. If you don't want anything more than...hm...friends with benefits, that's alright with me." It wasn't really. Arawn was desperate to have someone to love. But he'd make it okay.
I will get up again. And again. And again.
Love is stored in the big blue dragonborn cleric pirate man.
Cool. Just posted what was apparently a bad and ill-informed (that finale was 8hrs long forgive me if i skimmed it and missed things) -take about the Critical Role gods mortality on my personal
I have now deleted the post. And now that the love for Critical Role has been firmly squashed for the time being I am going to bed.
There may come a time when Harry is willing to share those matters, to speak of them freely and comfortable and maybe even pursue an interest or two. Alas, that day has not come, and he is still what he is, and what he is is a pragmatist: for now, he has other matters in mind.
Matters that make his heart lighter, and that small smile even more present, as only a part of his attention is focused on Rhia and the rest is on Arawn, and the way the situation makes all the worry vanish: for a moment, all is well.
And just as he doesn't expect Arawn to share the most worrying tales, he can't deny his sharp, entertained curiosity. Oh, vampires are not great news, and he knows it's likely Arawn was sent to deal with them, but still he's intrigued.
"I assume," Harry speaks, nevertheless, tone almost bemusedly matter-of-fact, "the offer wasn't accepted?" And then, "How did that all happen?"
The ice cream shop was just down the street, Arawn could see it's candy-colored awning stretching out to greet customers. Rhiannon could see it too, judging by how she squirmed out of his grip, desperate to run ahead. He kept a tight hold of her hand, but she seemed determined to drag him the rest of the way there.
"Actually," Arawn laughed, recalling the memory. "The offer was accepted so we just had a vampire lord at our camp for a few hours."
The offer was accepted, mainly, because their sorceress, a little air genasi named Lucia, was so effortlessly charming that Arawn had yet to find someone that turned her down.
"Gave the rest of our party time to escape his dungeon though, so I'd say it worked out." He was not going to mention the bite marks now scarred shiny-white on the back of his neck.
Arawn was tired, he hurt, and he wanted to be alone so he could lick his wounds in peace. But, he'd promised a new friend, a very helpful friend, a drink. It was literally the least he could do after the man saved his life.
So Arawn shrugged off the exhaustion, plastered on his best friendly smile; the one he'd used with clients, and it hadn't scared many of them off so it must be good, and bought two rounds of ale.
"So tell me, friend," he worked to keep his voice jovial. "Where in the hells did you come from? I thought I was alone out there."
He whistled, low and appreciative. "With some fucking fire power as well, you saved my life guaranteed."
@fortunefeather
↬ a ( short ) starter for @bardicinspired / @celestialdetected.
they’ll never run out of stories. the ( mis ) adventures they experienced with an eccentric group of strangers turned dearest friends could fill a tome. or two. guessing at arawn’s reaction has become a great game.
“ have i told you that i finally sailed the ocean ? ” an innocent enough statement until florence continues, fighting back amusement. “ partly, i guess. our progress was halted by sea serpents. ”
"The ocean," Arawn raises an eyebrow. Partially, he'd thought that his stories of the ocean; the violent seasickness, and the near loss of an eye, might've been enough to turn Flo off forever. "Damn, how'd that go?"
Almost immediately he gets his answer; sea serpents. "I don't much like that 'serpents' is plural, how many did you have to fight off?"
And then, in the next breath, because this was the nature of their stories; always interrupting each other; "Did I tell you about the time I met an honest to gods vampiric pirate captain?"
Usually Melihël liked the darkness. She could stargaze, she could observe the ethereal beams of the moon and her beloved constellations.
But the Shadowlands… The Shadowlands were an entirely new beast, made of hatred, of evil and an insatiable hunger for living beings. The perfect place for creatures who loved to ambush and devour. She encountered too many of them on the way there and she wasn’t even half way to the Gate. She sincerely hoped her fellow tieflings and Zevlor were alright; she would even resort to praying for their wellbeing, if she had someone to pray to.
After she defeated yet another needle blight and pulled out the thorns that had flown out its body from her now aching tail, her long ears perked as she spotted a light down the road. Too radiant to come from a malignant being. No: someone else was fighting amidst the darkness.
She quickly ran down the hill and once closer, she easily recognised the Harper’s insignia, together with their uniforms. They seemed exhausted, battered and bloodied, yet still standing and fighting with ferocity and determination. How many creatures have they encountered? What were they doing here?
She nodded as the ashen blond man spoke to her. Right, this wasn't the time for questions, but action. “Hang on!”
She immediately entered the new fray, without hesitation. Her mismatched eyes flared up as she called upon the cosmic powers. Her freckles shone and linked to form complex constellations and finally, in an archer stand, she let her stardust arrows flow into the creatures that relentlessly attacked the Harpers, the radiant damage stunning the enemies for a short but precious moment.
“My sorcery won’t keep them at bay for long,” she breathed, her skin and eyes still glowing, ready to cast again. “Your men are exhausted and they are just too many. I sincerely hope you have a plan, a place to retreat to or... may the stars help us.”
Arawn sighs heavily, taking the precious, gifted, moment to breathe. "We have an inn to retreat to," he pants, "It's just down that way," he points to the shadowy abyss. The shadowy abyss, for its part, does an excellent job obscuring whether the Inn is a hundred feet away or a mile. Even Arawn, normally quite good at directions, cannot tell where the Last Light is.
He whistles, sharply, to the Harpers around him. "Everyone who can walk, we use this moment to gain ground. Anyone who can't, sound off, I have a few healing magics left in me."
He takes in the newcomer, really takes her in, eyes and skin aglow, and thinks hysterically for a moment; now there's two of us.
His skin isn't glowing, but his eyes are, the space around his hands is alight with healing energy.
"Are you hurt?" he asks after he heals the worst of his men's injuries. "You just saved our asses, so healing and drinks are on me." He pauses, looks around. "If we can get to the gods forsaken inn."
I stg if im getting sick again.
Traveling circuses are, in Harry's experience, either hit or miss anywhere, but that doesn't change how some of those are useful, sometimes, beyond their entertainment value.
"They were rather good." He admits, however. "Much better than the usual average, certainly. So were the bards." He goes on.
There had been one rather handsome bard, all in all, but Harry had known better than to get too close... and this is not something he's going to talk about, not even with Arawn. Not even with the way his thoughts trail away, for a second, before they've reached the music school, and his attention is on it.
It's been a long time since people started to recognize him as Rhia's brother, and he does greet a few people, mainly to give Arawn and Rhia their moment, before he joins them once again. And if his smile is just this shade smaller than a grin, because he is still too reserved to show that much emotion in public, well: he's overjoyed, and they know it, and he wishes he could bottle the feeling in his chest to cradle it when he misses any of them.
And at the posed question, he only needs to share a look with Rhia, meeting her joy with his own, before he's nodding.
"Icecream." Is his answer. "And maybe a story or two, from your most recent adventures?"
There's something in Harry's tone as he mentions the bards...
Arawn knows that tone, a deliberate trailing off, a hint of wistfulness. He lets it be, but wonders idly if any of those bards were young and pretty. One day, he hopes that Harry will be comfortable enough to share things like that with him, but until that day arrives he won't press.
Rhia is chattering away in his arms, listing all the different ice cream flavors 'she's going to get' -Arawn thinks they might be up to ten now, he knows he's a pushover and will be getting her at least three.
"A story," he tilts his head, considering this. "Hm, well why don't I tell you the one where my traveling companion tried to offer a vampire hot chocolate."
𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐃𝐈𝐃 𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐖𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐆. Puck does not need his own mind screaming at him to know something as obvious as that. Arawn's body language is clear on its own ; he is upset, and Puck is to blame.
But he doesn't know what he did wrong, and that scares him. Did he black out again ？Did he hurt someone ？Did he hurt Arawn ？
No. No, Arawn looks fine. Anxious but fine. ( He thinks. ) Besides, there's usually more blood on his hands when that sort of thing happens.
Puck's nerves bleed through his own body language, too. His left ear keeps fluttering, and his tail flicks the ground every-so-often. He keeps fidgeting & scratching the back of his hand, eyes darting around as he holds his breath. As he waits with dread.
Cheated. Now that's a word Puck doesn't like. It's also the last thing he expected to hear. At first, stupidly, he pauses to think if they had recently played a game of Lanceboard together, but Puck does not cheat at Lanceboard. Or at anything.
No, he thinks. No, that can't be it.
Oh, he's even more confused than before now.
❝ I . . . I'm sorry, ❞ he says softly because it's true. He is. He doesn't want to hurt Arawn ; he likes Arawn. A lot, actually. But . . .
❝ But I don't think that I ⸻ ❞ Understand. He doesn't understand what Arawn means. His eyebrows furrow, tail coiling around his ankle. ❝ . . . I did what ？❞
Arawn blinks.
Of all the reactions he'd expected, and he'd prepared for a fair few, genuine confusion was not on his list. He stares at Puck for a long while, eyes narrowed, trying to get a read on him, trying to figure out his game.
He comes up empty, and in that moment he honestly believes that Puck has absolutely no idea what Arawn is talking about. Some of Arawn's indignation washes away, along with most of his anger.
His hurt remains. His hurt is a wounded animal who's licked open old scabs and it curls up in his chest and stays there, shaking.
Arawn takes a breath and douses the flame in his palm. Adding fire to this new, unexpected, conversation, is probably not helpful.
"So," he starts slowly. "we entered a relationship, right?" It's a genuine question because now he isn't sure. "We decided that we wanted to be in each other's lives in a romantic sense."
"Typically," he searches for the right words. A part of him, used to explaining difficult topics to small children, wants to speak to Puck as if he's his toddler. He buries that part deep. "Typically, when people decide that sort of thing, they don't sleep with people outside that agreement, unless they've discussed it with their partner first. It's considered rude, sort of like a betrayal."
"And that betrayal is called 'cheating'. Do you understand me?"
@celestialdetected asked : 🫴 (with Arawn standing on something bc the boy is short)
HEAD HANGS LOW AFTER THE EVENTS THAT TRANSPIRED OVER THOSE LONG MONTHS. no longer does death carry themself with pride and conviction. this will not last forever - all things are in flux, after all - but it is clear that his chains scarred more than just his body.
thanatos loves arawn. he loves the little life arawn has built for himself, and he loves that arawn is sharing it with thanatos now. he loves waking up to rhiannon squeezing herself between them. even hilda has warmed up to their presence. and as much as thanatos loves it here, he is still a stranger in this realm. his skin crawls and he keeps one eye over his shoulder. the underworld is no place for a healing body, and death itself is not particularly associated with healing. he sits alone on the roof of arawn's little home with his back to the setting sun and his eyes fixed on the rooftop shingles. he rubs his sore ankles idly, running his fingers over the new thick scars that encircle there. he digs a nail into the raised surface until gold ichor rises to the surface.
they start when arawn steps into their line of sight, though they are quick to relax as the warlock's warm hands cradle his face, tilting the daimon's face up to look at him. thanatos blinks slowly and covers arawn's hands with his own - one still flesh, one now skeletal. "hello, love." they turn their head to place their lips against one of the other's palms. "sorry i disappeared. how long have i been up here?"
Arawn gives Thanatos until Rhiannon has had her dinner and her bath and is safely tucked in her little bed. When they still haven't returned from their solitude, he goes looking. It's never good to let them brood for very long, he's learned. It's rule number one in the care and keeping of his beloved death god.
He notices, how could he not, the bright golden blood against pale skin. He notices and he stays quiet about it, though he has to physically bite his tongue to do so. Instead, he steps in front of his lovely Thanatos, cupping their chin in his hands, forcing them to look at something that isn't their own collection of traumas.
He hopes it's a pleasant sight.
Arawn runs a thumb against Than's cheekbone, his calluses catching on smooth skin. "Hello dear, you've been up here for a couple hours. Rhia's asleep."
Arawn tucks himself against Than, not on his lap, but just about as close as a guy can get without an invitation. "Mind if I join you?"
I have had a terrible, evil, awful idea.
Arawn, who wanted so desperately to be human, put in a situation where he has to raise another little girl, a little girl who will become the Everlight herself, a little girl who never gets to be human.
should they have tried a little harder? fix the dim light in their eyes, relax their limbs – everything is still tense, poised to fight for their life at a moment’s notice. you aren’t fighting a war against would-be gods. you’re safe.
easy to think, but harder to believe.
no doubt there will be questions, and florence is going to enjoy each second they aren’t spoken. “ say no more, ” and the smile slips back ( thank you, bast, for the lesson ). “ i’ll leave it to you to lead the way, of course. traveling has mixed towns and streets; wouldn’t want to wander aimlessly. ”
it’s a lie. they remember enough to manage.
“ you know, you’re lucky i came without company. the people i traveled with. . . well, they’re good people, but boisterous. ”
There's something people always forget about Arawn. He hides it under a general air of off-putting surliness, and a refusal to tell anyone else's secrets. That something is; Arawn is perceptive as all hells. He knows when people are hiding something. He especially knows when his sibling in all but blood is hiding something.
He can see the darkness behind their eyes, the way their smile dims every time they think he's not looking. He notices and says nothing, what would be the point of airing dirty laundry in the middle of the street?
He'll corner them about it tonight after they've tucked Rhiannon into bed and had a glass or two of wine.
For now, he smiles and tries to round out its sharp edges. "I know the type, traveled with a few myself. They always are a handful."
"Come on, it's this way."
