A Divine Romantic Comedy writer and Durgeheart fan
@godofdystopia
Trans Girl In Training | 29 | Radical Communist | Catholic Maybe? | Trans Ally | Ace Ally | Aro Ally | Aspiring Writer | Autistic | Ask me about my current Hyperfixation
I now have more than two stories on this account so i guess i should make it easy for people to find it? Anyway, welcome one and all, enjoy your stay.
I primarily write for Amphibia, so far, but hey! iâll probably write more about more. So please enjoy.
A Divine Romantic Comedy: https://archiveofourown.org/works/53670892/chapters/135863227
Lucifer Morningstar/Camila Noceda. Who knew the people wanted fluffy crack???
Sashannarcy Week 2022 Entries.
Day 1:Â https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/godofdystopia/688885151143526400?source=share
Day 2:Â https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/godofdystopia/688975734155378688?source=share
Day 3:Â https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/godofdystopia/689062527894716416?source=share
Day 4:Â https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/godofdystopia/689156964790534144?source=share
Day 5:Â https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/godofdystopia/689247552371032064?source=share
Day 6:Â https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/godofdystopia/689338151148437504?source=share
day 7:Â https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/godofdystopia/689428720447012864?source=share
Other stuff:
https://godofdystopia.tumblr.com/post/682547537862967296/save-the-last-dance Written before âAll In.â and even âThe Beginning of The End.â Sasha and Anne take a trip into the Core to rescue Marcy from itâs clutches. Their feelings for one another come to a head along the way, and Sasha has a big gay rant about all the things she loves about Marcy
https://godofdystopia.tumblr.com/post/683177008876978176/sasha-waybright-massive-weeb This is just part one of me writing about my personal headcanon that Sasha is secretly a massive anime fan based entirely off of a throw away line in âMother Olm.â
https://godofdystopia.tumblr.com/post/684734923768266752/sasha-waybright-massive-weeb-chapter-2Â Chapter 2 of the above. Toad Tower appears, and so do Percy, Braddock, and Grime. Sasha confuses them with endless talk of Anime.
https://godofdystopia.tumblr.com/post/683756696922882048/prophecy-what-prophecy After âAll In.â The Girls hang out in Newtopia castle and fill Marcy in on the prophecy of the Calamity Box. Fluff ensues.
Back from my self-imposed bereavement leave, writing resumes on Divine Romantic Comedy and also Luzpocalypse
Gonna write out my feelings... And also go to a weekly grief group starting Tuesday since I'm not really handling things well. He was basically my dad for a long period, or at least the closest I had to a dad
Cassandra: YOU ARE ALL GOING TO REGRET THIS SO MUCH YOU DONâT EVEN KNOW.Â
Odysseus: Regret it why?
Cassandra: You wonât believe me if I tell you. If I prophecy, nobody believes me. That is my curse.
Odysseus: ⊠Iâm Nobody. Fill me in.Â
*A couple of months later*Â
Odysseus: HELLO PENELOPE, I AM HERE PRECISELY ON TIME AND NOT YEARS LATE incidentally I rescued and adopted a Trojan seer while I was away, sheâs great, got me home really fast, Cassandra this is your new mother whoâs not going to treat you like shit.Â
Penelope: ⊠Iâm going to need more details, but okay, sure.Â
Some character designs with someâŠatypical color choices? I guess. I donât know whatâs going on in that area.
This is Nimona and her supervillain friend (He doesnât have a name yet, Iâm working on that). Nimona is his sidekick/squire, theyâre like the Batman and Robin of slightly Medieval villains, but sheâs actually way more evil than him. He does what he does to make a point, and he doesnât really want anyone get hurt - Nimona just gets a kick out of destroying stuff.
Iâm going to attempt to make a two page comic with them? Weâll see how this goes.
Still coming to terms with the fact he's gone forever.
He was in so much pain, needed round the clock care, he just... He was a complicated man but I never doubted for a second he loved me with all his heart.
Matching 'Hazbin Hotel' characters to the Seven Deadly Sins
[Not the Seven Deadly Sin characters, but the concepts]
Wrath: Vaggie
Vaggie often lashes out at others; I think she's threatened violence against every character in the hotel other than Charlie and Lucifer at least once.
If there had been a few more episodes between her being revealed as a banished exorcist and the S1 finale, it would've been cool to see Vaggie struggling with her desire for revenge against Heaven for casting her out, versus Charlie's dream of reconciliation between Heaven and Hell.
(Which also would've made the lyrics of Out For Love make more sense. Vaggie already prioritizes Charlie above herself. Carmilla isn't telling her or the audience anything new! It would work better if Vaggie had a competing desire, something she wanted that was in conflict with her desire to please her girlfriend.)
Vaggie choosing to spare Lute's life at the end is either Vaggie trying to let go of her wrath, or, considering her words ("Live, knowing you only do because I let you,") is itself a demonstration of wrath.
Sloth: Husk
Husk seems resigned to his current lot in life. He's bitter about it, but feels thereâs no point trying to better himself because he doesn't expect any efforts to that effect will go anywhere. He explicitly says he's not trying to get into Heaven.
Loser Baby has Husk singing about how his and Angel's afterlives are awful, and all they can do about it right now is accept that they are stuck in bad situations, shamelessly acknowledge their flaws, and enjoy the company.
Even his stated reasoning for assisting in the battle against the angels can be interpreted as slothful: "I ain't finding no new drinking buddies." ("I don't want to put in the work of building a new social circle if you all double-die.")
Based on his tones and expressions, he does care about the other hotel residents by that point, but he's not ready for the emotional labour of admitting it, instead presenting his motive as inertia.
Gluttony: Angel Dust
"But Angel is clearly Lust," I hear you say! No, no - Angel's internal struggles are defined by his addictions; that which he consumes.
Sex, yes, he has a lot of it - he does it for work, and on his own time both for fun and as a coping mechanism to deal with the lack of agency he has during his work.
He does drugs and drinks alcohol and, in the pilot, gets involved in turf wars. All of these are things he uses to intoxicate himself so he doesn't have to think about how bad his afterlife sucks.
Greed: Charlie
Yes, really - I didn't come up with this one, but there's this cute Owl House crossover fic which explains it in Chapter 16 and I was nodding along entranced at the reasoning:
She wanted a better life for demonkind, Sinner and Hellborn alike. She craved for the universe to bend to her whims and bring joy and happiness to Hell. She wanted a happy day in Hell, she wanted it so deeply and so completely that the Sin of Greed couldn't help but cheer her on. Hers was a cup that could never be filled, never be satisfied unless Paradise came for demonkind itself. She wanted, and wanted, and wanted some more, and her greed for a happy day in Hell was astonishing to witness.
Sidenote, go read "A Divine (Romantic) Comedy" by Dystopian_God if you'd like to read Lucifer from Hazbin Hotel and Camila Noceda from Owl House falling in love while trying to hide their respective paranormal secrets.
Envy: Alastor
This is my interpretation for why Alastor dislikes Lucifer so much, and why he made a name for himself taking down other Overlords when Hell is full of easier targets. (Not easy, perhaps, but easier.)
In short, Alastor cannot stand to be around people more powerful than he is. He has two main ways of dealing with this: kill them, or manipulate them so that he is the one wielding their power. (Ready For This, regarding Charlie: "She's filled with potential that I could guide.")
Alastor can't kill Lucifer, because Lucifer is some order of magnitude more powerful than any human sinner. The Hell's Greatest Dad musical duel was basically Alastor throwing a tantrum about Lucifer's presence having potential to interfere with Alastor's ability to manipulate Charlie, and Lucifer tantruming back about the idea Charlie might have found a new father-figure in his absence.
This may also tie into why Alastor let Husk live after winning their bet. Husk says, in Loser Baby, "I sold my soul to save my power - Now I'm on that demon's leash." This implies, whatever power Husk had as an Overlord is still there, but Husk can only use it at Alastor's direction - making Husk essentially an external backup power source for Alastor.
Lust: Niffty
The reasoning isn't that deep for this one. Niffty demonstrates both bloodlust and sexual lust. (And don't come at me protesting that she's a child. She is an adult woman who is very, very short. Demon forms are weird like that.)
Pride: Cherri Bomb
Yes, obviously Lucifer is the Actual Literal Embodiment Of Pride, but hear me out:
Cherri knows who she is and what she wants, and doesn't bother much with introspection, and shows no desire for self-improvement. (The night before the S1 finale battle, Charlie explicitly acknowledges that, even though Cherri is helping them, she isn't officially staying at the hotel yet.)
Unlike Husk, Cherri's lack of desire to change her afterlife appears to be because she's enjoying said afterlife, not because she feels any attempt to change will be ultimately futile.
đŹ 1  đ 139  â€ïž 951 · At some point, he made a silent oath to himself that someday, he will repay that girlâs kindness.
.
.
And he unknowi
Anyway, why am I posting this now instead of during the actual week? Or why did I skip over Day 3?
Simple: I almost unalived in June and I didn't even start Day 3 before my mental health declined rapidly.
So... instead I'm posting this now to have it be done and share what I wrote with the world.
The Flaming Fist were out in force.
The lower city knew it, knew it in their bones that something had happened to the Talâmyrs. Olâ Donnel and Lucien Talâmyr had been found murdered in their family home⊠no, murdered was not the right word. They had been found slaughtered. They and the several children they had taken in over the years had been butchered like cattle.
The Talâmyrs had been devoted followers of Ilmater, the god of Endurance and Suffering. They attended service out in Rivington every tenday and helped out the needy and the misfortunate when they could. Part of that was in adopting those children who had nobody else and helping them live lives of peace and promise in the little cottage they had in the lower city.
Donnel Talâmyr, a Duergar who had traveled the length and breadth of the Sword Coast before settling down in Baldurâs Gate, had been saving up to open an orphanage of larger size. Lucien Talâmyr, a dragonborn man from Chult who had sailed to the city on a whim only to fall for the duergar, had been more than supportive.
Three children did the Talâmyrs have: The eldest, Kane Talâmyr, was currently working his way through a bardic college to sing and lift the spirits of the weary across the Sword Coast. The youngest, Verana Talâmyr, was apprenticing with a blacksmith and wanted to give back to the poorâŠ
And the youngest, Xana Talâmyr, was⊠odd. She regularly went to healers and doctors for something though none of the neighbors knew what. She had just⊠shown up one day on their doorstep as a newborn though nobody could say who had dropped off the child. She somehow scared off pets with her very presence and would sometimes wake the whole street up with screams in the night.
Xana Talâmyr was an odd child but nobody who actually knew her held it against her just like they didnât hold Kaneâs hoarding against him or Veranaâs blunt and abrasive nature against her. Xana was a sweet child, someone who waved shyly at anyone she saw and who seemed to just want to live happily ever after. The Talâmyrs were raising her well, she would grow up to be a fine young womanâŠ
And now the Talâmyrs and all their charges were dead.
The Fist were out in force trying to find the culprit, or considering the sheer scale of horror in the Talâmyr home perhaps the right term was culprits, and the city was on a knife edge as everyone wondered what monster could have done such an unholy thingâŠ
None of this was known to the eight-year-old-plus-change currently curled up into a ball in a dimly lit back alley in the lower city, rocking back and forth as her clawed fingers grasped at her legs desperately for any sort of comfort
She was rake thin and knobby kneed, gangly limbed with small horns growing out from her dark, dirty, and tangled raven dark hair. A tail wrapped around her as she whimpered, the scenes playing out in her mind over and over again in a tumble.
It was a nightmare without end, and one she couldnât wake up from.
It wasnât her, it wasnât. It couldnât have been her⊠she wouldnât have. Couldnât have.
And yet she did.
Xana Talâmyr, presumed dead, hugged herself tightly and kept rocking back and forth. It wasnât- it wasnât her! That thing that- that hurt her dads and siblings, it couldnât have been her! It was all⊠it was all a mistake. Or someone had bewitched her. Or someone was playing a prank.
Kane would always play pranks like this- always use his magic to make little shapes chase after her. This was just- this was just something-
Screams. Screaming. She was silent as her claws fell down down down again on Kane. He kept screaming and she reached for his tongue-
No. no no no not her, not her- that wasnât her it couldnât be-
âYoung master, precious fledgling⊠follow ever your heart.â The horrible little goblin perched on the windowsill watching her go to work on papa hissed in glee. âIn time, your true family will find you.â
It was him! It had to be him because if it wasnât⊠if it wasnâtâŠ
No, it was him. She was sure of it. He had always been there, lurking in the background of her vision whenever she was alone, always whispering⊠unspeakable things in her ear. Always trying to encourage her to do horrible things.
And always telling her about her father.
Her father, Bhaal, the worst god of them all⊠Her father, who punished her with nightmares every night she didnât do what he wanted. Her father, who drove her to acts of brutality like what he and the butler made her do to her friends-
No! No, it wasnât her⊠it couldnât be herâŠ
She began batting at her own head, fists striking over and over as the images played again and again and Xana Talâmyr fell into the depths of despair-
The scent of honeysuckle filled her nose, wild and free, and she blinked and actually looked up from her crouch to see a small hand holding a bundle of wildflowers towards her.
It was so utterly random and nonsensical it actually cut through her despair to replace it with confusion.
âHere.â A sweet voice said happily and she blinked and looked up to see a chubby face framed by long dark twintails. Pointed ears reached out on either side and the girl looked at her with worried green eyes. âYou look sad and when Iâm sad mama always gives me flowers so take this and donât be sad.â
It was perhaps the oddest thing she could have ever heard given the circumstances so, with eyes still runny with tears, she stared at the flowers like a viper poised to strike.
Awkward silence fell and the girl began shifting from foot to foot anxiously before, clearly wanting this interaction to be over, she placed the flowers atop her head and nodded. âThose are from the family garden, we sell them in the city sometimes for⊠uh, al- alkamists and doctors and stuff.â
She looked in shock before the dark haired girl nodded and turned around to rush away. And thus was the girl left alone with a handful of flowers.
She gingerly reached up to the flowers and grabbed them off her head, staring at the sweet-smelling honeysuckle which swayed in her trembling hands.
**********
A few days laterâŠ
**********
Jenevelle Hallowleaf, age seven and a half, was having a fun day.
Mama and papa had taken her to the city again, having brought in the latest batch of healing plants and magic stuff for the many doctors and alchemists of the city to make into potions and what not.
She was allowed to go off on her own on the promise over her heart without crossed fingers that she would remain in the marketplace. She had already pet every dog and cat she had come across and was planning on petting some more. She was always happy to come to the city- so many cute animals to play with everywhere!
Baldurâs Gate was always so fascinating to her. It was cluttered, loud, packed with people from all over and it was fascinating!
She rushed from stall to stall in the Market Square all situated under the palatial looking Sorcerous Sundries. The massive domed building shined magical lights out from the windows down onto passersby and the stalls took advantage of that viciously.
She flittered from a stall selling boring magical armor and weapons to a stall that sold the good stuff: baked goods! She saw candies, sweets, and something that the dwarven lady working the stall promised was the best sweet roll in all of the Sword Coast.
It was just a shame she didnât have the money for it.
She sighed and looked for something to do in the market with all the boredom of the young, kicking her rock along as she looked to the sky-
Something red bumped into her, a jostling in her side as a tail tripped her over onto the ground. The cobbles of the market hurt as she went down and she looked behind her only to see a spaded tail weaving around a corner before disappearing.
Well, that was rude.
She wanted to cry out and yell but she found getting up more difficult because her side, the one that the red figure had bumped into, was heavier for some reason. She looked down only to boggle at the sight of a much larger coin purse than normal, one overflowing with gold coins.
The bag had some fancy marking on it she couldnât read but she didnât care enough to find out- SelĂ»ne had given her a gift and she was going to spend it on a sweet roll!
**********
A week laterâŠ
**********
The sky was beginning to set over the Lower City. From Bloomridge Park to the Counting House, from the Blushing Mermaid to the Elfsong Tavern, everyone was getting ready for dayâs end and made themselves ready to go home and kick up their feet by a nice fireplace with mug of something nice in hand.
All save for Jenevelle, who was rather hopelessly lost.
It wasnât her fault, not really, the other kids had wanted to play tag while she was looking for something to do while her parentâs haggled with the owner of the Elfsong about more plants and herbs for their needs and she had come across some local kids. It had been perfect.
Except maybe too perfect because the game had taken her deeper and deeper into the city until finally parents started calling their kids home and she had found herself very much alone now.
She wasnât going to cry, babies cried and she wasnât a baby- she was a brave girl! Her mama always said so and she was going to be brave and find her way out.
Maybe she should wait for the moon to come out? Mama and papa always said the moon would guide her home one day so maybe this would be-
Something red dashed by her and she blinked as a red figure disappeared at speed far away from her. It almost looked like a tiefling⊠and that spaded tail-
âGet back here you little shit!â
She rushed around again as a flaming fist guardswoman rushed forward, her dark skin glistening in the afternoon sun as well as the trickle of blood that dripped down her forehead from a rather nasty looking wound. The guardswoman looked down at her and her angry face softened. âYou wouldnât happen to have seen some tiefling brat-â
She rushed forward and hugged the guard tightly, blubbering about how she was lost and didnât know where she was and she really just wanted to go home now please!Â
The guardswoman looked down at her conflicted, looked up to see a single unnaturally burning eye staring at her from around the corner, put the picture together, and sighed as she scooped up the crying half-elf and carried her towards where she was saying she had last seen her parents
**********
Three weeks laterâŠ
**********
It took a very long time for papa to let Jenevelle out of his sight, the older elf watching over her like some great big bird that had been away from the nest too long. Mama said he was like a papa wolf and laughed to herself but she didnât get the joke.
Either way, she was now let back into the city on the basis that she not leave his side for any reason whatsoever and if she needed to go anywhere, he would take her.
It was a little boring but she got it.
She sat on the ground twiddling her thumbs and bored out of her mind, which was better than being lost again so she continued to do nothing but that and sometimes looked up to count clouds. Papa kept looking over like she might disappear on him but she just kept playing around with the moonstone he had given her. Her papa did that often, always watching over her.
He had funny yellow eyes that almost seemed to darken when he got angry and he was tall and strong like the oxen the neighbors had. His hair was tied back in what he kept calling a âwarriors wolft ailâ and that mama liked teasing him about for some reason.
He was kind of lame, no big secrets or anything, but he was her papa so she loved him lots.
She got up and began to stretch-
Something bumped into her gently, so fast she didnât even notice as a human boy simply walked by whistling to himself. She shook her head, some people were jerks. She reached up to her moonstone-
âHey!â She shouted as she realized her moonstone was missing, the human boy now racing off with a laugh as she made to give chase only for a red blur to dart out from a side alley on the other side of the market and race off after the boy. By the time she realized it was the same girl from before, both her and the boy were gone.
And so was her moonstone.
âPickpockets and thieves everywhere, Jenevelle.â Her papa said with a sigh as he came to stand beside her with a hand on her shoulder. âIâll talk to the guard, donât worry.â
She balled her fists and sighed angrily, she was starting to not like this city very much.
**********
Papa was loading up the cart to travel back to the village, ready for the evening travel. She hadnât heard back from the guard and she wanted to just cry now. This day was looking to be-
A figure made its way towards her.
She blinked and a gasp left her mouth as she saw the boy from earlier, the one who took her moonstone, make his way over to her. He looked⊠Well, he had two black eyes, a few missing teeth, a busted nose, a split lip, and was holding his right arm like it hurt a lot. He looked up at her with red eyes and an expression of fear came over him.
âHere! Take it back!â He hurled the moonstone at her and then began to hobble away from her as fast as he could. âTell that⊠that monster never to come near me again! Please⊠call her offâŠâ His voice fell away as he looked up to see something up above her on a rooftop across the cobbled road and he panicked even harder.
He began to rush away now, wincing with every speedy step of his run as he disappeared.
She looked up to see a shadow disappear off the rooftop and she blinked.
Papa walked up to her with a smile, something held behind him. âJenevelle! I have some good news for you!â
âSo, uh, do I?â She held out her moonstone and papa blinked before hastily stuffing something into his pocket.
âThatâs good!â He laughed awkwardly and took her away towards the cart. âWe will have some pie to celebrate when we get home!â
**********
A week laterâŠ
**********
Bloomridge Park was always a nice place to visit in the heat of summer. Many parents took their children, lovers joined together and enjoyed themselves, families and single persons all enjoyed the nice greenery all provided on the dime of the Grand Dukes.
Jenevelle found it nice enough, her parentâs had taken her here to enjoy themselves as a family so she was taken along. It was nice, she even got some candied dates to eat so she was pretty happy.
Though right now she was just wandering on her own while Mama and Papa talked about boring adult stuff like taxes or something. She knew they always talked about boring adult stuff whenever they stared into eachothers eyes and made exaggerated kissy faces at one another till she got disgusted and left so they could talk about whatever they needed to without her around.
So she decided to pet as many animals as she could⊠not that many were around, in fact they all seemed to be afraid for some reason she couldnât quite name.
So now she was sitting on a bench bored out of her mind and waiting for something interesting to happen.
She was just about to give up when a red clawed hand thrust a bunch of weeds into her face. It was a random assortment of plants from the park garden, none of them even flowers, and they all smelled like grass. She blinked and looked up only to see a tiefling.
Tall and gangly limbed, she had small curling horns growing out of her forehead and shaggy and tangled dark hair that looked a tad bit dirty. A worn shirt and pants that looked a bit raggedy and dusty was all she had on, with a pair of simple sandals on her feet as the tiefling with eyes she had never seen on anybody before stared at her with what looked to be literal fire in her bloody red and black eyes.
âHere.â The tiefling said with a nod as the girl handed her the random assortment of weeds. âThis is for you.â
She stared.
âIâm Xana.â The tiefling girl said. The now named Xana kept thrusting the random weeds at her insistently until she finally took them out of her red, clawed hand. Xana smiled and she stared at how sharp the girl's teeth were.
âUm⊠Iâm Jenevelle.â She said as she looked between the random weeds in her hand and the tiefling girl now nodding seriously at her. She looked familiar but she couldnât place the girl.
âNow weâre even.â Xana said seriously and she turned to leave-
âWait!â Xana froze up and turned her head slowly as she shot up and looked the girl over. âYou got me my moonstone back!â
Xana nodded at her. âI followed him home and showed him what me and my butler would do to him if he didnât give you back your stone.â
She blinked at the dark red devil girl. âYou have a butler?â
âHe-â Xana winced and grabbed her head like it hurt but waved her away when she went to go help her. âHe was sent by my⊠dad? I think? Heâs training me.â
âMy papa says when I go through my moon walk and come back, Iâll be trained by a bunch of people who worship the moon. Whatâs your butler train you in?â She asked because usually only lords or something got that and Xana didnât look like one of the fancy Grand Dukes in the Upper City
Xana swallowed and looked away before racing off.
She tried calling after the girl but she didnât come back.
**********
Two Months laterâŠ
**********
âSo youâre, what, a⊠priestess or something?â Xana asked her as they laid on the ground of Bloomridge park. The two young girls kicked their feet back and forth as they laid head to head and stared at nothing and everything.
It was like that for the most part: Jenevelle would show up to the city with her parents, Xana would trail them from the shadows like a weirdo for however long it took for her to head away from her parents and towards Bloomridge Park.
There they would hang out and play all sorts of games and just talked about everything and nothing. Xana was a rough and pushy player, always managing to find her when she was It with almost supernatural precision.
âMy butler taught me how to hunt in a city.â Xana said as an explanation and offered nothing else.
Currently they were cloud watching after a particularly fun day and just⊠enjoying themselves.
âImma be one of SelĂ»neâs moon clerics.â She said with a serious nod. âMama is a healer and papa wont talk about what he does for the Moonmaiden but mama says everyone in the temple is proud of him.â
Xana idly scratched a claw in the dirt and nodded seriously. âMakes sense, your dad wants you to follow in his footsteps and you canât say no to dads.â
She nodded as Xana frowned into the sky. âWhatâs SelĂ»ne like?â
She frowned at Xana, the tiefling looking pensive and weird again. âWhatâdâya mean?â
âI mean⊠is SelĂ»ne like, well, nice?â Xana grabbed her head and grunted in pain as another one of her flare ups happened. She tried to reach out in comfort but the other girl rolled away and stared guardedly at her.
âI think SelĂ»ne is nice.â She nodded seriously to herself and smiled gently. âIâve⊠well, Iâve heard a lot from the priests and priestesses in the temple where we live and itâs always nice to hear that she loves us all.â
Xana frowned harder and then looked at the sky. âItâs getting late.â
She frowned herself and sighed. âYeah⊠I need to get back to my parents, I think.â
âWill your dad be angry if youâre not back?â Xana asked with an odd tone in her voice she couldnât name but ignored anyway.
âProbably.â Xana frowned harder for some reason. It was odd, odder still when the Tiefling girl stood up, grabbed her hand, and began dragging her away in a random direction. âWhere are we going-â
âIâm going with you. If your dad is angry youâll need someone with you.â The gangly girl said to her and if that wasnât the oddest statement ever she didnât know what would be.
Either way they made their way through the city with an almost unnatural clarity of direction, as if Xana could just tell where they were by the feel of the cobbles beneath her clawed feet. Her tail was lashing in agitation and the tiefling girl looked pensive and guarded as they made their way to the place Papa always said to meet them at the end of the day.
She stood up on the tips of her toes and saw her father talking with a few merchants while Mama unloaded the last of the goods for the many alchemists and medicine people of the city. She shouted loud and began waving as her parents turned and smiled as they saw her.
Beside her, Xana tensed up.
âJenevelle! We were just talking about you.â Her papa said with a warm chuckle that sent Xana tensing up even more.
âMore like gushing about your upcoming Moonwalk.â Mama was perfect. Raven dark hair that was always wavy and shiny, green eyes that always held warmth and love in them. Emmeline Hallowleaf was the best mom ever. Currently she was laughing as she walked up to the two of them alongside her papa, shaking her head. âHeâll make friends with everyone, your dad.â
âGood relations mean more customers⊠for our⊠productsâŠâ Arnell Hallowleaf trailed off awkwardly as he began looking between his daughter and the tiefling glaring daggers at him that was holding said daughterâs hand.
She took that as her cue to talk. âThis is the friend I kept talking to you about.â She took in the uncertain glances and then heard the growling of Xanaâs stomach. âCan she stay for dinner?â
**********
Arnell stared at the small and gangly girl across the table from him and tried not to sigh at the cruelty of the world.
Xana was⊠Moonmaidenâs grace, she was so small. Malnourished, filthy, and she reeked of blood and death in such magnitudes that no child should ever smell like. She smelt like a freshly changed Lycanthrope after a spree.
No child should ever smell like that, nor should they look to be wearing clothes that looked frayed and falling apart, covered in dirt and grime from across the Lower City.
Emmeline gave him a pointed look from the corner of her eye and he nodded slightly: If this girl was as bad off as her⊠everything said she was, he was sending off to a priest of the Open Hand temple in neighboring Rivington.
SelĂ»ne have mercy, this was going to be a nightmare to deal withâŠ
He hadnât wanted to let the girl in at first: she was a stranger despite all that Jenevelle had told them, and to that the girl⊠there was something wrong with her. Every time he looked at her after not thinking about her for a while he would almost want to let out his claws because his senses screamed danger.
It wasnât so much that he disbelieved his senses, just that his faith in the Moonmaiden was telling him something more was going on.
And to top it all off⊠the picture Xana had painted of her life in the city had not been a pleasant one, and had confirmed his fears that the girl had suffered some horrific event that sent her into homelessness and survival.
He was willing to bet every last coin he had ever made since putting up his claws for good in his service as a protector and guardian for Selûnite Priests on their travels that Xana had suffered at the hands of her father, he could tell from the way she seemed almost protective of Jenevelle⊠protective against him.
Still, he would need to do this delicately since a child used to a life of survival would like to be interrogated. He had to put his best foot forward.
âSo⊠you live in Baldurâs Gate? Must be nice.â Beside him, Emmeline sighed and he cursed himself in his head.
Xana paused in her ravenous consumption of the simple meal laid out before her: A smoked shank of lamb and some stew and bread. She was eating like she hadnât eaten properly in SelĂ»ne knew how long⊠the small tiefling looked up at him curiously with her blood red eyes that seemed to actually flame around the iris and shrugged. âItâs okay. Nobody messes with me anymore now that they know Iâm tough so I can sleep where I want.â
âYou shouldnât have to fight just to sleep somewhere safe.â He thought in his head but didnât say for fear of upsetting her so early. He had to establish himself as trustworthy first before offering help otherwise he would be wasting his time.
âHow did you meet our daughter, exactly?â He decided that was a safe question to ask.
Xana flinched, looked down at her meal, and fell silent for a distressingly long time before she spoke again. âI- no, Father did something⊠bad. I was crying in an alley, she gave me flowers.â
Well, maybe it would be better to shift into his wolf form and just pretend to be a dog outside if he kept stepping on emotional traps like that. Emmeline was giving him a look now.
âI think that was very nice of her to do, donât you dear?â His wife asked pointedly and he took the out, nodding and smiling gently at the tiefling girl who cocked her head to the side like a cat.
âIt was⊠nice, yeah.â Xana looked down and to the side, her face pensive and frowning. âItâs⊠nice.â She looked up and her frown softened slightly. âIs it because sheâs a SelĂ»nite?â
âShe has yet to go through the final trial, but she does want to join the temple here.â Emmeline said gently, her eyes soft. âWe try to help where we can though not to the extent the Ilmaterans do-â He noticed but did not say anything about Xanaâs flinch at that, Emmeline also noticing but moving on. â-but we try to follow SelĂ»neâs teachings however we can.
Xana seemed to hesitate slightly before she swallowed and looked Emmeline in the eyes. âCan⊠can you teach me about her? I donât want to follow my-â She shook her head and frowned. âI⊠I want to know more about her.â
They both smiled gently. âI think that we would love to teach anyone about SelĂ»ne.â
**********
Jenevelle should have been in her room asleep but she was too excited. She had a friend over! An actual friend!
Xana may have been odd, and strange, and weird⊠but she was also very cool and aloof like only cool kids could be. Xana seemed to know where to go in the city and where to avoid, who to talk to and who to glare at till they left, and when to go where with whomever.
It was very cool.
Mama and papa were talking about boring adult stuff but Xanaâs name popped up alot so she grew curious. She snuck out of her room and down the hall, stepping past the animals her papa kept adopting despite mama telling him each time that the last animal was the last one, and she arrived in the side room for guests to see Xana reading the small prayer book for SelĂ»ne like her life depended on it.
âHey.â She said and the tiefling girl looked at her oddly.
âHey.â
Nothing more was said for moments and she almost turned around and left when Xana broke the silence. âWhy?â
She looked confused so Xana continued. âWhy are you all⊠doing this? Iâm- I havenât slept in a bed since-â She cut off and looked heartbroken for a few moments before shaking her head and growling. Her eyes seemed to flame up more than usual as she spoke, âI donât want pity, you hear me?â
âWe want to help you because we can.â Is all she said and Xana looked ready to cry. She shuffled forward towards the bed and reached out to grab ahold of her hand. âHey, listen, you helped me in the city so mama and papa can help you here. We can be like the best of friends!â
Xana looked at her with a watery gaze and she continued. âWhen we wake up tomorrow weâll all go to the SelĂ»nite temple here in Moonhaven and weâll all hear the prayers and what not. Itâll be fun, youâll learn about paladins and-â
âWhatâs a paladin?â Xana asked and her eyes sparkled as she launched into a rambling story about awesome warriors with cool swords and cooler smites destroying Sharrans and servants of evil gods everywhere while saving as many people as they could. By the end of her fifth anectdote about paladin badassery, Xanaâs eyes were sparkling as best they could. âI wanna be a paladin!â
âAnd Iâm gonna learn how to bring people back to life!â she said happily.
âWe can be SelĂ»nite besties and everyone will be jealous of us!â Xana yelled aloud and she cheered with her until papa poked his head in and leveled her with a Look. The Look said it was time for bed.
âYouâll come with us to the temple, right?â She held out her pinky and Xana hesitated a bit before reaching out with her own.
**********
That nightâŠ
**********
The Hallowleaf home was not particularly well defended.
That was all that he could think as he casually sauntered his way towards the front door and waved a clawed hand over the lock: SelĂ»neâs followers were always so deliciously vulnerable. His young master would have to be trained to abuse said trust for everything it was worth. Her training had been going perfectly⊠until they stepped in.
Now he would have to get his young master to unlearn so many bad habits because of these wretched little moon-botherers. Hopefully, his young master would indulge herself before they made their way back into the city for more training.
But if not⊠well, it would take care of itself in time.
A wretched little farm, it was a hovel unsuited to the glory of the young master and yet that was where she had been taken: to a shack in the woods outside a Selunite enclave of a town to cavort with the animals in the muck like some wretched little serf.
She was not a farm worker, she was the greatest killer this world would ever see. She was also the last it would ever see for she would lacerate this world for her divine father
He casually strode over the entryway, a crooked smile on his rotten lips and his needle-like teeth glinting in the torchlight. No moon was visible in the night sky, apparently Selûne did not particularly care for what happened.
Or maybe his little leak to the Sharran cloister had her and her followers scrambling to protect themselves. Already more than a few SelĂ»nites had been slain within the city and their shrines defiled, it soon looked like the entire SelĂ»nite presence in the region surrounding Baldurâs Gate would be extinguished just like in the time of the Thorms.
Its what they deserved for interfering in a proper deityâs business.
Either way, nothing short of divine intervention could halt his advance and there was nothing of the sort in this little house. The animals all pulled away frightened, sensing the presence of an apex predator nearby, and thus did not stop him as he made his way past the parents room, past the daughters room, and into the guest bedroom with a skip in his step.
There, a little candlelight burning on the cabinet, was his young master.
She was perfection made manifest: her fathers perfect prodigy. A demiurge crafted by the Lord of Murder himself, she was as mortal as he was and yet so much more than he was. She was perfect.
She was currently writhing on the bed, crying out whimpers in her sleep as her hands clawed at her face as the night terrors returned with a vengeance. Such was the fate of those naughty children who defied their lord father: he would punish them most harshly. It hurt to see his young master so distraught but then, she had brought it upon herself for defying her father.
She would have to be taught that there was no defying lord Bhaal, only suffering and torment before giving in anyway.
He grinned and carefully reached out a clawed hand to pinch the candle flame out, the darkness now enveloping the room as his other hand snapped off a quick Silence to avoid⊠interruptions. The Dark Urge launched herself upward, gasping and looking about in delirious panic as the night terrors receded as Sceleritas Fel, goblinoid servant of those Bhaalspawn who showed the most promise, leaned in and whispered to his charge, âYou have no one to blame but yourself for this, my lady.â
The Dark Urge practically raced backwards till her back hit the wood of the wall behind her, her eyes wide with panic and fear as she tried to curl into a ball. In response, he hopped up on the bed and crouched low like a gargoyle as he grinned at his charge.
âIt pains me so much that you continue to force your fathers hand like this, my lady.â He drawled, true despair filling him as he frowned. âIf you would only follow orders none of this would happen. Your father loves you, but you continue to defy him.â
The Dark Urge finally looked like she was calming down as she glared. âNot love.â She said, anger in her voice. âThat's⊠that's not lov-â
âOh, my sweet ladyâŠâ he crooned as he placed a shocked hand over his rotten and decayed heart. âWhat lies they have filled your head with! Your father loves you, he does not want to punish you but you force his hand every time.â
The Dark Urge opened her mouth and he cut her off with a shake of his top-hatted head. âMy lady⊠you are so much more than what these coddling moon-botherers would have you be. Iâm sure they have filled your head with so much nonsense-â
âItâs not nonsense!â The Dark Urge argued, the tiefling overcoming her bone-chilling terror to defend her new friendâs faith. âImma dede⊠deda⊠dedi⊠make myself a paladin of the moon lady.â
Oh. Oh dear. It was so much worse than he could have ever imagined: She was going native.
This would require a delicate touch to go alongside the inevitable cruel hand of Bhaal.
The decaying goblinoid smiled gently, needle-like teeth glinting in the darkness around them as he stared deep into her unnaturally red eyes. âIâm sure that SelĂ»ne would welcome you⊠for a time.â
The Dark Urge looked confused and he grinned harder. âMy lady⊠Blood Wins Out. You are your fathers daughter through and through. Your desires are his desires, and your wants are his wants.â
The butler spread his clawed hands wide and smiled more gently at her. âMy lady, how long do you think this little game of house will last? A day? A week? A year? Blood Wins Out just as it did with those wretched Ilmater folk in the city.â
âI⊠I didnât.â The Dark Urge looked horrified, disgusted, and sick to her stomach as she looked down at her hands and began to shiver. âI⊠it was-â
âYou, my lady. Their killer was you.â He grinned and sidled over to lay a clawed and desiccated hand on her shoulder comfortingly. âYour first killing spree, oh, we were all so proud of you!â
The Dark Urge hiccuped, sobs beginning to leak out from her and he was grateful for the Silence spell. He did not want to face the werewolf sleeping a few rooms down, why he would never live it down if he were killed by anyone but his young master!
Either way, the Dark Urge was a sad sight as she started striking her own head, hiccuping sobs escaping her as she descended into despair.
One day, she would know that such things were not to be avoided but celebrated. She would delight in slaughter and carnage more than anything this horrid world could offer and she would be truly perfect.
But currently she needed a gentle push.
âShh, shh, shh⊠my lady, settle downâŠâ He was a proper manservant as he reached over and began to gently brush the raven locks of his young master with a clawed hand. His skeletal fingers gently comforted his young master until, finally, the Dark Urge began to quiet her sobbing and simply sniffle in pathetic despair. âOne day, youâll see that this is something to be celebrated- not despaired. But until that day⊠your faithful servant will always be here to pick you right up and brush off the blood splatter.â
âI- I didnât mean to.â She hiccuped.
âOh, you did⊠but itâs alright.â He cooed as he kept brushing her hair. âItâs all alright⊠I assume you donât want a repeat performance?â
A look of animal panic spread across the Bhaalspawn in tiefling skin's face and she rapidly shook her head in the negative. He smiled. âThen you should come with me, young master⊠theyâre waiting for you in the city.â
She blinked at him and looked confused. âWho?â
âWhy, your real family of course.â He said with a grin that the Dark Urge did not share.
âI⊠can I see my friend again?â The Dark Urge tried to ask but with a tut he wagged a clawed and decayed finger.
âNow, my lady, remember what happened to your last set of friends?â Ah, that was a glorious day⊠the screams of torment and betrayal were like music to his refined ears! Bhaal was quite pleased with his young Bhaalspawnâs performance and even rewarded her with a few nights without his divine thoughts entering her own.
And then she decided to befriend the Selûnite⊠clearly, the Dark urge needed a firmer hand in the future. But that was okay, that was what a proper butler was for: to clean up any messes and guide their charges towards a grander destiny.
And his words struck true: the Dark Urge looked ready to vomit but she nodded all the same that she remembered. âThen I believe that answers your question, my lady.â He said with a vicious grin.
He took the Dark Urge by the hand and gently led her out the door and back towards the city, choosing to say nothing about the small prayer book she held a death grip on with her other hand.
It would make good kindling on the cold nights she couldn't bathe in warm blood.
**********
Jenevelle stared at the empty bedroom as the morning sun showed through the window, the scent of flowers in the air. The bed was messed up and the sheets were thrown to the side, and there was no sign of the tiefling girl at all.
Xana had⊠she had promised.
A hand laid on her shoulder and she looked up to see papa smiling gently at her, a look of sadness in his eyes. âSometimes⊠sometimes it takes awhile for someone to find SelĂ»ne. If her path should lead to the Moonmaiden, then moonlight shall guide her no matter what.â
Papa knelt down and nodded towards the bedside table where the book she had given Xana was missing. âHer path may be long⊠but I believe in her. And so should you. This is just⊠a rather long moonwalk for her.â
She sniffled but nodded, sad her new friend was gone without a trace.
Iâm so happy youâre ok! Iâm sorry you were in such a bad place. Hope you manage to get back on your feet and feeling better soon. Take care of yourself.
Thank you
I'm getting much better as time progresses but life still sucks. And yet I perservere. That is what I am pleased about most
Sorry about the lateness, I get what sleep I can and do what I must when awake.
This was the first entry finished by my hand, mostly because I wanted to correct the fact that there are not enough companion reaction fics to you LITERALLY DYING at the hands of Bhaal in act 3. I like the fics that exist but I want to make my own so here we are
Once, she had had hope that at the end of this journey she would find a solution to the horror in her mind. A cure for whatever curse was strangling her soul and slowly turning her into a monster. She had once believed she could rid herself of this atrocity and free her mind to rejoin SelĂ»neâs paladinsâŠ
So many dreams she had: freeing Karlach from her fiery fate, getting a house out in the countryside for her and Shadowheart, all the wonders of nature around themâŠ
She had talked with the former Sharran turned SelĂ»nite once more about random things they would do once this was all over. About how their life would look like once the Absolute plot was endedâŠ
And then Sceleritas Fel, that most wretched and horrid of butlers, snuck into her dreams to inform her she was a demigod: a child of the Lord of Murder. A daughter of Bhaal, god of blood. A Bhaalspawn.
Something in her broke at that news, something precious and fragile: her hope for the future.
She was a child of one of the worst gods known to mortalkind, one whose children regularly went on to commit atrocities and wholescale crises on Bhaalâs name with very few exceptions. Abdel Adrian was dead, slain by⊠by her own hand at Bhaalâs request by the looks of things and Jaheira and Minsc didnât have time to hunt down any other sources of resisting the Urge within her, and she was pretty sure praying for divine intervention from SelĂ»ne wouldnât go her way⊠there was only one way out from this horror in her skull.
One way to protect the ones she loved.
She had descended into the labyrinthian sewer system of the city with her beloved Shadowheart, her comrade and mentor on how to resist Bhaal known as Jaheira, and one of her best friends: Wyll, the Blade of Frontiers. And together they had walked into the Temple of her father⊠and her to her death.
Only death would free her loved ones from Bhaalâs clutches. Only death would free her from the urge.
She had battled Orin till she was thoroughly black and blue at the Slayerâs hands, met so many cultists and simpering sycophants from her old life who sang a song of brutality, sadism, and all sorts of nightmarish horrors wrought by her own hand⊠she refused to look back at her comrades then, refused to let them see the shame in her eyes.
And now, with her bloodkin dead she was left with only herself⊠and her father.
The temple of Bhaal was silent, the cultists watching with reverent awe as the floating corpse of Sceleritas Fel dripped blood into the pool of gore beneath him, a pool that served as a mirror into Bhaalâs realm. The temple was oppressive and cold even now, even with the full attention of her godly father fixed on her and her alone. The stone slab that held Gale upon it might as well have been on the other side of the world from how far away it seemed.
She could hear her companions fighting to free themselves from whatever hold Bhaal had on them that was keeping them from helping her in the final hour. Shadowheart was screaming⊠something. Something a millions miles away.
All she could hear was Bhaalâs command that she become his Chosen, his command that she become the same unholy monster Orin had been forcefully turned into so that she could lacerate the entire world like was her birthright.
All she could hear was the refusal that left her lips.
All she could see was the horrifying visage of Bhaal staring down at her from the pool of blood, staring at her with eyes full of hate and rage.
YOU REFUSE ME?
The voice was like rolling thunder and crunching gravel, and each word was like a stabbing pain in her skull for all the fury and force behind it. Bhaal stared at her with burning hatred, something that she absentmindedly noticed would have been much scarier if he had ever had any other expression during this⊠conversation was too friendly a word.
The image of the suited goblin, his clothes fine and properly cleaned mixed with an expression of murderous rage and eyes that glowed with bloody fire, snarled and the whole world seemed to balance on the edge of a knife.
Everything else fell away: The temple, Sceleritasâ corpse, the slab with Gale upon it, her friends, the cultists⊠everything but Bhaal glaring hatefully from a pool of blood beneath her.
YOU ARE MY SPAWN. YOUR VEINS COURSE WITH MY UNHOLY BLOOD.
The murderous god pointed at her like she was a disobedient pet, which she might as well have been for all the care the God of Blood had for his children.
ACCEPT YOUR INHERITANCE OR I WILL RECLAIM IT.
She had never wanted to hurt anyone.
She had never wanted to be this monster, this thing wearing a tiefling skin. She hadnât wanted to kill Alfira, hadnât wanted to dream of killing Isobel, hadnât wanted to almost kill Shadowheart, she hadnât wanted to kick a squirrel so hard its body shattered against a tree, she hadnât wanted to force goblins to kill themselves in the court of Moonrise, hadnât wanted to have to force herself not to kill a damn child at the Emerald Grove⊠she hadnât wanted to be this thing.
Had she always been like this? Always been against her god-given destiny? Had she always been horrified by this fate laid out for her? Or had she once wanted nothing more than to serve her father as She Who Will Lacerate The World?Â
Did it really matter? Did anything?
She had never wanted to hurt anyone at all and she didnât want to hurt anyone again⊠and there was only one way to do that. There had always only ever been one way to do that.
She did not look back, did not stare at Shadowheart one last time because if she had she would have lost her nerve. It had to be done⊠and if the way Shadowheart was now casting every bit of holy magic she had left to try and break free and come to her, the cleric had finally realized what she had planned.
She had to do this, had to save her friends. Had to save the world. Had to save everyone.
âNo.â
It was a terrified whisper, one born out of pure fear. She knew what was about to happen and she was utterly terrified.
But for everyone, she would do it.
âNo.â She whispered again, louder this time. âNo, I will die before I ever become your creature again.â
Bhaal stared at her, his rage seemed to swell like the tide as he lifted his hand-
YOUR TERMS ARE ACCEPTABLE.
Pain. Blinding, searing pain erupted from all over her body as she felt something be ripped out of her all over⊠and then she saw the streams of blood. Blood, thick and viscous, was being pulled out of her like a dishrag as she was actually lifted off the ground from the power of Bhaal.
It was a horrifying experience, one of unimaginable agony as she was in too much pain to even scream. Her body was wracked with agony and it felt like whole gallons of blood had been ripped from her.
I WILL MAKE ANOTHER WHO IS WORTHY.
Every nerve, every vein, every inch of her body was alight with white-hot agony as her whole wretched form convulsed and shuddered as blood and soul was torn out of her with all the grace of an enraged owlbear. The red mist wafting off her body rushed into the pool of blood and through it, into Bhaalâs realm.
Her head lolled back, tears of blood falling and being leached away by her divine father and she saw Shadowheart screaming, furiously rushing towards her with horrified tears in her eyes and a scream of pain on her lips. She smiled despite everything.
âI really would have loved just living in a cottage with youâŠâ
The presence of Bhaal left without fanfare and she dropped like a stone as everything went dark. The last thing she ever heard being Shadowheart screaming her nameâŠ
Xana died defying Bhaal.
âThou hast defied Bhaal: thy liege, and father, and in doing so hast earned a place among champions and heroes.â
**********
Dying hurts.
Dying at the hands of the Lord of Murder hurts a hell of a lot more.
Dying at the hands of Bhaal and then being brought back to life by a philosophical skeleton she was starting to suspect was secretly a god? Well⊠actually, that didnât hurt nearly as badly as dying did but it still wasnât pleasant.
Xana the Dark Urge (Was she even still the Dark Urge? Was she even still a Bhaalspawn anymore?) had the whole future ahead of her, assuming they defeated the Netherbrain/The Absolute, and nothing but time on her hands⊠It was a heady feeling and she didnât quite know what to do about it.
Well, that was a lie: she knew one thing to do about it.
âI lived!â She crowed happily, raising a fist to the ceiling of the Elfsong Tavern as she sat among random strangers and citizens of the city, a cheer on her lips and her mind forcibly emptied of all the horrors she had just gone through.
Tomorrow she would descend into existential dread over whether she was even the same person⊠no, tonight was about celebrating her victory over Bhaal and her freedom from the Urge.
Good riddance to that horrible thing.
She wondered what she looked like to the other patrons: A black eye and bruised face, wincing with every movement, scratches and claw marks on her body, and an air of victory over her⊠maybe she looked like a proper adventurer fresh from some mystical far-off dungeon.
It was even sort of the truth.
âA round for the whole tavern, Alan! I told my dad to fuck off back to the hells!â She cried out happily as she flung a handful of gold coins at the innkeeper. The whole tavern erupted into cheers at her declaration and she sat back down next to her friends.
âI am so fucking proud of you, Soldier.â Karlach, her more-fiery-than-normal fellow tiefling, said as the devil slayer pushed a flagon of ale into her hands. She took a greedy drink from the ale and tried not to choke as Karlach slapped her on the back. âYou looked one of the worst gods of them all right in the eye and told him to fuck off, Iâm so fucking proud⊠bit jealous, too.â
âMaybe we can find Bane and tell him to go screw himself since weâve already pissed of Myrkul and now Bhaal.â She said with a chuckle, ignoring all the little pains in her body from her earlier fight with her sister, Orin.
Oh, wait, no⊠Bhaal ripped Orinâs mind and soul apart and made her into a mindless entity of Murder. She didnât even get to fight her sister. Just the thing that replaced her.
Sheâd mourn for Orin later. People would tell her it was fine if she didn't, in fact many would prefer she not, but⊠but as bad as Orin was she had been a hell of a lot worse if Sceleritasâ expert-if-biases testimonies were anything to go by.
And it was only because of Orin that all of this was even possible in the first place.
Later, she would find a nice and quiet spot outside the city and make a small little shrine and ask Selûne, or even just any god willing to listen, to at least spare a thought towards her shapeshifting sister. Later, though. Right now was her time.
âYou know what, Karlach?â She said happily, waving her flagon through the air as the fiery tiefling stared amused at her. âWe should find a Steel Watch automaton and just⊠fucking go at it. Throw down then and there to piss off Gortash.â
âOh hells yeah!â Karlach cheered and looked ready to charge off with her into the streets-
âAhem.â
She blinked and turned around slightly- oh, oh dear.Â
Shadowheart looked livid. The newly made cleric of SelĂ»ne, her hair now dyed white and shining in the tavernlight, stared at her with a stormy expression on her beautiful face as her fists clenched by her sides. âYouâre hurt.â She said with a voice full of forced cheer. âThat tends to happen when you go off to your death. Let me heal you.â
Chuckles arose from many of the tavern guests who listened in like curious hens, the bastards not helping her at all as they gossiped about her being in trouble with the missus. The former Bhaalspawn for all of several hours now blinked and decided she had been brave and courageous enough today. âActually, Karlach and I were gonna go-â
âOh, soldierâŠâ Karlachâs voice was sweet next to her and she looked to her fellow tiefling for help only to see the infernal veteran of the Blood War smirking at her. âYou pissed off a god so much you died and didnât even give us a fair warning that was what you were planning. Iâm washing my hands of this.â
âYou see? No other commitments.â Shadowheart said as she laid a gentle but firm hand on her shoulder to keep her from escaping. âNow come on: you most likely have multiple wounds from agreeing to a one on one duel and then getting murdered by Bhaal.
She thought about joking about making a will first but considering everything that might actually get her killed again. She simply sheepishly followed after Shadowheart, the black clad cleric keeping a hand on her bicep, and led her gently but firmly away from the first floor of the Elfsong and towards their shared room.
She hadnât said anything, their relationship being too new as they traveled towards Moonrise and Shadowheart being too emotionally vulnerable as they left it, but she really was glad they ditched her Sharran tent when they paid up for room at the Elfsong.
If they got a new one after all was said and done she was putting her foot down about getting a proper SelĂ»nite one. It was only fair, after all. Maybe later, when Shadowheart wasnât so utterly enraged.
The private suite was free of anyone else when they marched over to the side and made it to one of the plush beds with velvet lining. She⊠she wondered if she had ever slept on anything so soft in her entire life.
Maybe she would go back to the Underdark and try to find more Noblestalk, it worked for Shadowheart so why not her?
âSit.â Shadowheart⊠she didnât want to say âcommandedâ but it was a close thing. She thought about gently but firmly saying no only for the simple act of turning to face her to cause lances of pain to shoot out from her many bruises and injuries.
Bhaalâs slayer put up a hell of a fight.
She blinked only to find herself already sitting down, Shadowheart staring at her concerned as the half-elf gently brushed a hand across her cheek. It was an intimate moment ruined by the pain in her body.
Slowly, gently, Shadowheart began prying off the chestplate and armwear of the Helldusk Armor Dammon got her back in the shadow-cursed lands. Piece after piece of pseudo-infernal armor was pried off until she sat on the bed in her chestwrap, the many wounds and bruising from fighting Bhaalâs slayer now visible and present⊠alongside all the other, much older, scars from her time as His creature.
Being the chosen of the Lord of Murder had been hard work, apparently.
She felt a finger trace one of the cuts from the slayerâs claws, a hiss of pain leaving her lips from the sensation. âThat one hurts like the hells.â She grunted.
âIt looks like it.â Shadowheart said gently, the feeling of the cleric's forehead pressing into her upper back distracting her from the pain for a moment. Shadowheart lifted her head and a glow began to shine out from behind her as the cleric of SelĂ»ne got to work.
The silence was awkward and painful. She opened and closed her mouth several times, trying to find the words for what was going on but eventually she just⊠went for it. âShads.â She tried, wincing a bit. âIâm-â
âDo you know what it was like, to see Bhaal rip your very blood out of your body?â Shadowheart asked, her voice hard. âDo you know what it was like to see you die right infront of my eyes with no way to stop it?â
She said nothing. What could she even say to that?
âI went through all our stock of revivify scrolls,â Shadowheart continued, and she turned her head slightly to look at the cleric. Shadowheart looked⊠she was staring down at the wound on her back, her hands glowing with a soft blue light, and looked for all the world like she wanted to scream. âI cast every bit of magic I could to bring you back⊠nothing worked. You were gone and there was nothing I could do.â
The silence stretched on.
âDid you know?â Shadowheart finally looked up and stared her right in her flaming red and black eyes. âDid you know you would die going in there?â
She turned away in shame and nodded.
âDamn it!â Shadowheart swore, anger and pain in her voice. âWhy didnât you tell any of us? We could have-â
âCould have what?â She frowned down at the floor and clenched the side of the bed in a white-knuckled grip. Before, the Urge would have been screaming to turn around and start a killing spree but the Urge was gone so all that was left was a lukewarm anger and defensiveness. âCould have gone up against one of the worst gods of them all? Could have angered Bhaal alongside me and gotten killed right beside me?â
âWe could have planned something!â Shadowheart turned her around slightly, the cleric glaring at her now that she could glare into the former Bhaalspawns eyes once more. âWe could have actually planned! We could have asked Aylin for help, or gotten a scroll of true resurrection, or anything!â
âYou just said none of the scrolls worked.â She countered, her eyes furrowing. âWhen a god wants you dead thereâs nothing in the world that can stop that except another god.â She crossed her arms and looked away. âAnd we got that so itâs all-â
âDonât pretend like Withers was in any way expected.â Shadowheart was simmering, anger and pain rolling off of her as she stared at her. âWhy? Why did you not tell us at all?â
She stared back and just⊠sagged. âI⊠I wanted to protect you all.â
She didnât wait for Shadowheart to respond, instead barreling ahead like a galleon towards a blockade. âI love you, Shads. I really do love you and I⊠the thought of Bhaal hurting any of you filled me with so much dread I couldnât- I canât live in a world where my actions hurt you. I almost did because my father hated that I protected Isobel-â
Shadowheart blinked in shock, the confirmation about that night in the shadow-cursed lands brushed aside as she continued speaking, â-and Iâll never forgive myself if I did it again. You, Wyll, Karlach, Astarion, Gale, and Lae⊠youâre all so special to me and Iâll do whatever I can to protect you. Even if it means walking to my doom so none of you do something like make a demand of the god of blood.â
Shadowheart looked at her, really looked at her. The cleric with her long, braided white hair stared for a moment before rushing forward to capture her in a desperate hug.
âYou died.â Shadowheart said into her shoulder.
âI know, Shads.â
âYou died.â The cleric repeated. âI watched you die. I felt my heart break into pieces as I watched you die- I⊠the only reason youâre even here is Withers.â Shadowheart clung to her, the clerics hands still glowing with magic as her wounds healed up slowly but surely.
âI know, Shads.â
Shadowheart grabbed the sides of her face and turned to stare deep into her soul. âPromise me youâll never walk to your death ever again. Please.â
âIâŠâ She sighed, a bone-weary thing as she looked away. âI canât promise that, you know that.â
âThen promise me youâll at least tell us next time so we can all put our heads together and think of a way out.â
That, she could do. She said as much and was rewarded with a smile from the former Sharran. She reached out a hand and held Shadowhearts face, the cleric leaning into the touch as she brushed a finger along her cheekbone.
âI love you.â The words slipped out without warning, without thought, or without planning. She wasnât really a creature of planning anyway so it fit. Shadowheartâs eyes widened slightly and she smiled at her. âI do. I love you so damn much it hurts.â
âI⊠I love you too, Xana.â The cleric smiled and she leaned in only for a finger to be placed against her lips. âNo kisses though: Iâm still slightly mad.â
She pouted and Shadowheart laughed at her.
All was right in the world.
**********
Gale Dekarios, former chosen of Mystra and current professor of Illusions on sabbatical from the College of Waterdeep, sighed as he pushed his hair back and went up the steps towards Xana and Shadowhearts section of the suite.
Honestly, he missed out on a lot of things while he was kidnapped by Xanaâs insane and bloodthirsty sister. Apparently, they had: found out Xana was a Bhaalspawn, found out Xana was responsible for the Absolute crisis, fought a Githyanki incursion beneath the Elfsong, broke into the bank, rescued the legendary Minsc, and then fought their way through the Tribunal of Murder and then the temple of BhaalâŠ
All in the week he had been kidnapped.
Apparently he needed to keep a closer eye on random scroll sellers on the side of the road while travelling.
Still, he was catching up to the fact that Xana was a Bhaalspawn and now apparently not one anymore quite well, all things considered. Sure, being tortured endlessly for days by a shapeshifting psychopath was⊠hard, but so had almost detonating the orb at Moonrise because his ex-lover wanted to forgive him in the only way she knew how so things still worked out.
All things considered, he was more relieved at being rescued than anything so it all worked out.
The morning light shone through the windows as he held a tray of food for Xana and Shadowheart, the two having never came back down after Shadowheart had all but dragged Xana away for healing/a dressing down on never going willingly to her death ever again.
Food always made things better, he even got to keep cooking since he actually knew what everyone liked and the cook here didnât.
He backed up through the door and held the food aloft as he looked in- and then paused and smiled gently.
Xana was silent as she held Shadowheart, the other SelĂ»nite cuddled into the crook of the tieflingsâ neck as the two lovers clung to one another in the depths of sleep. Xanaâs head rested on top of Shadowhearts and the two seemed content to just lay there sleeping.
Or, well, Shadowheart was sleeping. Xana apparently retained her killer instincts despite losing whatever horrific Bhaal-born thing was inside of her because one of her unnaturally burning eyes was staring deep into his soul with a clear warning in them not to wake the former Sharran.
He shook his head, laid the tray of food down on a nearby table, and decided it would be wise to simply leave quietly and gently close the door behind him.
I... have no excuses other than my life is sort of constantly falling apart this year. It has not been a fun year so far. I'm now taking care of my grandparents 24/7 so that has hampered my writing time/ability by a lot so I'm just happy something got made at all.
Anyway, happy Pride and happy Durgeheart Week! I am please to show this off and more please for people to see it! Please enjoy and if you want to read on Ao3 here's a happy little link for you to follow:
The heat of Grymforge was suffocating and all-consuming. The ruins of the old Sharran forgebase still stood tall and imposing all around as the magma rivers flowed easily through the crumbling ruin. No light save that of the volcanic magma was allowed and even that seemed dimmed by its presence to a place dedicated to Shar.
The camp their odd little group had set up was situated in one of the crumbling halls over a magma river, the stonework still holding power and majesty even after all this time. Personally, Shadowheart liked the current set up of the camp: her tent was down below on its own level away from most everyone else and she was allowed to keep to herself.
Now, if she could get Withers to agree to go up with everyone on the main level for the few days they would remain in Grymforge before heading back to deliver Nereâs head to the myconids it would be perfect.
The Sharran cleric was currently up above away from said cozy and private little tent, hands closed atop one another as she knelt on the ground in simple meditation and prayer. Shar demanded absolute obedience from her followers and she was nothing if not the perfect follower of the Nightsinger.
The others were around pestering Gale as he cooked while their current tag-along Barcus offered advice for said cooking. Gale was surprisingly defensive of his stew and kept waving the deep gnome away like a lioness defending her cub. She would deny outright that the sight was adorable.
No, she had to focus on her prayer. Shar did not forgive distraction and she didnât want the Nightsinger to send any more pain down than was already sent.
It was hard, though⊠she was getting increasingly distracted these daysâŠ
âBlessed Nightsinger, witness our adoration.â She intoned dutifully in the safety of her own head. She knew from⊠not experience, her stolen memories saw fit to that, but from instinct that non-Sharrans got twitchy about the faith of the Dark Lady. âSee how we serve you, only-â
âHA!â
She opened one of her eyes before she could stop herself and cursed her own foolishness for doing so.
There, practicing against the simple training dummy they carried around to keep their skills sharp, was the current source of her distractions: Xana.
Xana was⊠strange. The large Tiefling woman had just as little memory from before the Nautiloid as she did herself, and yet while she had a few things slowly coming back to her to inform her of who she was, Xana did not. Infact, Xana seemed to not have anything at all other than her name, her broken oath, and a heap of night terrors. The tiefling was dangerous, lethal, and very confused by the world around her due to the amnesia.
Xana was also, unfortunately for her, extremely attractive.
The tiefling has her dark hair long in a braid that hangs to the small of her back⊠her very muscular and strong looking back. Xanaâs arms were powerful, corded with strength and covered in scars that oddly only added to her looks in the Sharran clerics mind. Two curved and almost spiked horns rose up from a freckled face with odd runes carved into the lips and above the eye while a swirling tattoo rushed out from her right eye.
The oathbreaker looked like she could lift her with one arm with casual ease.
She would forever deny the thought crossing her mind often.
Xana was⊠she was extremely attractive but painfully earnest: she tried to do the right thing like she wasnât an oathbreaker, she tried to rescue the weak and helpless, she went out of her way to save who she could much to Astarion's chagrin, and she seemed to want to make up for whatever was in her mind at all times.
That, unfortunately, just made the powerful tiefling paladin even more attractive.
Xana had already saved her like some knight in shining armor: she could have left her behind on the nautiloid but went out of her way to save the mysterious prisoner she didnât even know while the ship was crashing. Xana didnât have to do that.
But she did.
And now the Sharran cleric couldnât even focus because Xana was very distracting right now.
Clad in a simple pale shirt and a pair of casual green breeches, the powerful woman was currently going through motion after motion with the simple halberd she refused to change out for anything else.
Sadly, the magma was glinting off her muscles right now in a very distracting manner and she refused to bear witness.
âSee how we serve you,â she intoned again, her eyes squeezed shut as she prayed. âOnly you.â
The training dummy was soundly whacked again and again by the halberd, each strike informing her that a very powerful and very attractive woman was training not twenty feet away.
But Lady Shar needed her full attention and so she would keep praying.
She sighed and refocused her attention. âWe have emptied our heart of false-â
Another powerful strike sounded out and she guiltily stole a peak.
Xana was now trying to perform some whirling move that struck the training dummy both with the sharp blade and the weapons wooden haft. It was⊠impressive.
But Shar needed her to pray, not stare at a very attractive woman train to deal with their enemies.
So why couldnât she stop staring?
Xana was attractive, an almost wild and untamable beauty to her that she found extremely appealing. Seeing Xana work out was⊠Well, it almost made her forget the woman was a Selûnite.
And wasnât that a treat to learn? Their leader served the damnable moonwitch as a paladin⊠or, former paladin since apparently Xana had broken her oaths long ago for reasons the tiefling woman couldnât remember, Xana couldnât remember much of anything other than her name (though she had almost said something about being The Da- whatever when she had asked back on the ruined beach) Xana remembered that she was a former paladin, and Xana remembered random snippets from her life in Baldurâs Gate.
Nothing else.
To be fair, amnesia was apparently common since she had it too: though hers had been a choice for her mission.
Either way, Xana also remembered she was a Selûnite and thus they were enemies.
Except⊠Xana met her with understanding, and curiosity, and an almost gentle demeanor. It was⊠nothing like what she could remember being told about how Selûnites reacted to Sharrans.
They were perhaps even friends⊠maybe more if her constant staring at Xanaâs muscular body was anything to go by.
Nightsinger save her she was falling hard.
A sharp, almost blinding pain erupted from her hand and she grimaced silently as the Dark Lady made her displeasure known.
This, this was why she would keep to herself for now. She was a cleric of Shar, she was planning on being a Dark Justiciar, she couldnât afford distractions like this. Sure, they had shared a bottle after the Emerald Grove was saved but what future could she have with someone not dedicated to the Dark Lady? To someone dedicated to the Moonwitch herself?
What future could she have with a Selûnite Paladin?
No, this was how things had to be. She was a servant of the Nightsinger, a dark cleric of the Lady of Sorrows. Her full devotion above all things was for the Dark Lady.
Xana was⊠attractive, certainly, but nothing could come of it no matter how much she wanted it to. She would be Sharâs disciple until the end and nothing could change that. Xana⊠Xana had no place in her world.
It was a sad state of affairs but a necessary one.
She would just have to deal with things and be thankful nobody knew of her shameful attraction to the leader of their little group.
**********
âKill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill-â
Xana shook her head and ignored the pounding in her skull, focusing on working out her aggression on the simple straw dummy she had taken to calling Ser Stabbity in her head.
It made it easier if she was attacking something with a name, after all.
She didnât know why, or why her body just reacted to things sometimes: she would never get the image of that squirrel out of her head. She didnât know why she had broken her oaths, or why her body was covered in scars both combative and surgical. She didnât know anything.
She was a Selûnite, she was an Oathbreaker, and she was haunted by something unspeakable deep in her soul.
She did not think about the butler, or the bloody legacy said butler spoke to her about one night⊠or the velvet cloak that even now was stashed away in a chest like a filthy little secret.
There was something wrong with her. Why anyone would trust her to lead them was beyond her.
âRip and tear rip and tear rip and tear rip and tea-â
And yet they did, so she tried to live up to their standards.
So whenever she was starting to feel violent, she would work out her furious aggression on Ser Stabbity the padded dummy.
Except now this was getting slightly ruined by the fact that she was a filthy monster who couldnât keep her eyes off of Shadowheart.
She glanced over out of the corner of her eye and saw the black-clad beauty kneeling in religious suplication to her dark deity, hands laying flat on her knees and eyes closed with her head bowed. Shadowheartâs long raven dark hair was tied off in itâs signature thick braided tail that she swore she had never seen the woman take out.
Shadowheart was⊠fuck, she was beautiful. Gorgeous even. She was also, and this was slightly important, a Sharran. The exact opposite of herself.
She was a Selûnite. Shadowheart was a Sharran. By all accounts they should be at each other's throats trying to kill one another⊠and yet it somehow worked out well. Maybe it had something to do with the fact she was a terrible Selûnite?
She was, she was awful. She was a paladin who had shattered her oaths somehow- an oathbreaker without memory of what caused her to fall. She could not feel SelĂ»neâs grace anymore.
It was agonizing.
Maybe that was why her and Shadowheart got along so well. Well enough that now she was sneakily glancing at the woman out of the corner of her eye.
Shadowheart was gorgeous and she was a monster. She shouldnât be feeling these things, not for anyone. There was something dark and horrid inside of her and it demanded to be let out at all times for any and all reasons.
What person would want to deal with that?
Fuck, she had yet to tell any of the others for absolute fear of what it would do. If they knew what was inside of her they would drive her out at bladepoint because they would know she was at fault for Alfira-
âNo screams, no begging- she doesnât have the tongue or throat to do it anymore. She made sure of that so the others would not awaken. Dark satisfaction fills her and she looks to the sky and wonders if He is watc-â
She shakes her head. No, telling anyone is off limits. Shadowheart, if she knew an oathbreaking SelĂ»nite was interested in herâŠ
No, it was for the best nobody knew about her secret desire. It was for the best nobody knew about this.
She stared at the long raven hair in a braid and-
Blonde hair woven into a long braid, pale eyes staring up at her, blood on the ground, smiles on their faces, âWell done, Ori-â
She shook the thought away. Or was it a memory?
Either way, her shattered mind offered things like that very rarely⊠maybe it was the Noblestalk residue left on her fingers after handing it over to Shadowheart? She had wanted to be nice⊠if they were both cursed without memory then at least one of them should get something out of it.
So she suffered from that in silence as well. Nobody else knew anything so she was safe.
She would just have to deal with things and be thankful nobody knew of her shameful attraction to the cleric of their little group.
**********
âAre theyâŠâ The little bald gnome looked confused as he glanced between their leader and Shadowheart over and over again. âAlways like this?â
Astarion Ancunin, former magistrate of Baldurâs Gate turned vampiric slave of House Szarr turned homeless adventurer with a squid in his brain, took a sip from his rather disappointing wine and frowned angrily at the taste. âGods preserve us, but yes: theyâre always like this.â
Barcus, he was pretty sure that was the gnomeâs name in any case, grimaced uncomfortably and he refused to admit kinship with the act.
âOh, hush up you two.â Karlach, the second big and powerful tiefling woman in their merry group of weirdoâs, spoke up as she came over and stared with amusement at the sight before them all. âItâs adorable is what it is.â
âItâs something, that's for sure.â Gale, resident wizard and former chosen of Mystra turned equally homeless vagabond, said as he added a bit more spice to the stew.
âYou see, he gets it!â He replied languidly as he took another sip of the pisswater the Emerald Grove had tried to pass off as a good wine. Ah, what he would give for a proper Evreskan sweet redâŠ
Either way, the motley crew hanging about by Galeâs cookpot stared at the scene before them.
Shadowheart, the adorable little cleric of Shar with holes in her memory one could sail a nautiloid through, was knelt by the overlook into a particularly dark hole as she tried praying to Shar by⊠he wasnât sure how Sharrans prayed and wasnât keen on learning but either way she prayed and took âsneakyâ glances at their leader when she could.
Well, they were sneaky if you were completely blind but even then he was willing to bet one could tell it was happening.
Xana, meanwhile, was hacking away at the training dummy with a fury only to keep turning to glance at Shadowheart when she could. This led to many a missed hit and fumbled attack that their mighty leader steadfastly ignored in favor of glancing between training and staring longingly at Shadowheart.
Barcus looked confused. âWait, why donât they just, well, do something about it?â
He sighed alongside Gale while Karlach fought back laughter. âThatâs the worst part.â He said with annoyance.
âThatâs the best part, actually.â Karlach said with a grin. âThey think theyâre being sneaky and the other doesnât know.â
âOh.â The little gnome looked between them and asked the obvious question. âHow?â
âThat, my little friend, is the million gold question.â Gale said as he added some sea salt into the broth and began stirring. âWillful ignorance?â The wizard suggested with a shrug.
âMaybe theyâre always looking when the other isnât?â Karlach murmured with a pleased glint in her eyes.
âMaybe theyâre both idiots?â He offered helpfully. Karlach and Gale glared and he shrugged.
âIs the stew done, Vinâisk?â Laeâzel, the incredibly abrasive but deliciously straightforward Githyanki, asked as she marched forward with military precision alongside Wyll, resident Noble turned Monster Slayer turned fellow Homeless Adventurer.
âIâŠâ Gale blinked first at Laeâzel and then at Wyll who looked like he was disappointed at home much laughter he was fighting back. âWhat did you just call me?â
âItâs a Githyanki term for-â Wyll, getting his laughter under control, tried to answer with what would probably be a mollifying lie but Laeâzel beat him to it with the brutal truth.
âDo not answer for me, Mr. Of Frontiers.â Laeâzel said imperiously and a few others had to resist laughing now. âIt is a term for servants and those who serve the food.â
Gale sighed and he let out a chuckle only to flinch as a fiery hand clapped him on the back. âPlay nice.â Karlach said with a chuckle. âDonât want the two lovebirds to overhear us talk about them.â
Wyll shook his head. âHow those two have managed to dance around their feelings so often is beyond me. How many days have we rested on this journey?â The blade of Frontiers asked as Karlach mozied over and rested an elbow on his shoulder, something he noted with amusement the newly formed devil did not protest at allâŠ
âMore than you would think.â He sneered into his cup of wine. âFighting and almost dying is harder than it looks.â
âThey should mate and be done with this farce, then they will stop distracting each other in combat.â Laeâzel said with utmost seriousness. âIf they choose to be each otherâs zhak vo'n'ash duj, then this dance offends both.â Wyll once more looked to be holding back laughter.
âYeah, sure, go ahead and tell them that Lae.â Wyll got out between chuckles. Laeâzel blinked, nodded, and then marched off somewhere, he didnât know as he was too busy trying to imagine the wine in his goblet was actually of quality make.
âAlright, but seriously-â Karlach said with a steely look. âWe probably should do something about them; this is getting ridiculous.â
âOr, and hear me out here,â He offered just as helpfully as before and waited for everyoneâs eyes to be on his to follow up. âWe let it keep playing out because itâs kind of funny?â
Karlach rolled her eyes. âAny real suggestions, people?â
The silence was telling.
âLock them in a room until they admit to each others feelings?â Gale offered with a shrug and a grimace.
âErm, people?â Barcus or whatever his name was interrupted. He was ignored.
âYou know, that might actually be a good idea.â Wyll broke the silence with a nod and a smile. âYou see, my father was quite hopeless with my mother when they were courting, so his comradeâs int he fist decided to give them a leg up-â
âGuys, hello?â
â-by tricking them both into the dining room at the same time.â Wyll rubbed his chin and chuckled to himself. âNow, granted, it took awhile for mother to show up so they had to distract father for quite awhile-â
âHello? This is actually important-â
âOh for the love of Tyr- what is it, Gnome!?â He interrupted with a snarl as Barcus stared at him unimpressed.
âLaeâzel went off to tell them both to mate and get it over with as soon as you told her to.â They all froze at Barcusâ words. âSheâs actually finishing up right now.â
They all paused, looked at one another, and then raced to mitigate damages.
Me, with two different Tavs, mocking Orin with the fact that Bhaal and Sarevok don't care about her and have both betrayed her: ha-ha, get fucked lobster woman, shouldn't have done all the murders
Me, with Durge, after practically no new information about her character has been added, but Durge's story has reframed her as the unwanted child, the always-second-best, looked down upon and despised by everyone whose approval she desperately sought her entire life because they created her to do so, while the framing of two of them as siblings creates the implication that they are of the same foundation, coming from the same place and following the same course up until the point when, through what was essentially a random chance, one that she never got, one of them was thrust upon a path to possible freedom and redemption - a path that inevitably leads them to crushing her as the very entities that set those fates in motion cheer on: oh.
Probably should have said this from the beginning but now I just wanna clarify something for Durgeheart Week: please tag me in all entries so I can keep track of and properly catalog things in my mind and what not
