Calypso is a Bhaalspawn, just beginning to find the tattered edges of her past as violent acts reveal her true nature to herself.
Unable to combat the dark urges that scream within her mind, struggling for a semblance of autonomy, she begins to hide more and more of herself from her new friends after spending weeks attempting to search for any shred of her past life.
And she's not the only one clawing at the seams of this fragile exterior in an attempt for control. Astarion is finding himself rather quickly at wits end with his own emotions - as they rise and fall to the beat of his favorite drow's heart, his stone cold one finds a warmth he can't quite stomach at the thought of her demise.
In an attempt to feel real and whole, Calypso leans into the fear of falling for someone new in search of being found worthy.
In an attempt to feel safe and protected, Astarion leans into the fear of losing someone new in search of the power he set out to claim.
And indulging in these choices may very well destroy them both.
I'm so happy with my Baldur's Gate 3 fanfic, Despite Everything!
I am a long-winded writer, it's true, but I can't help but pour every drop of passion I have for these characters into my rehashing of this story. It changed my life and despite the treachery I inflict upon these little fools, I love them very much.
Want steamy stuff? Try this chapter, or this one, or even this one. (There's plenty more where that came from!)
Want violence? Want gore? Horror? Check those out! (The Ethel arc may be the greatest act of violence I've committed against these babes, sorry!)
Want to see your favorite fools just being loveable idiots? How bout a fully fleshed out tiefling celebration chapter - with drinking games and all? (I love my gaggle of fools.)
Also, if you enjoy fanfic and haven't made an Ao3 account, what are you waiting for?? Connect with your favorite writers - I love talking fandom with people and I'm sure others in other fandoms would love to hear your favorite parts of their retellings too!
love a good tactical loot goblin raid on waukeens rest - also murked the zhent for the first time (on purpose) and feel vindicated, rejuvenated - ahh fuck I triggered the alfira scene.
I love having a different experience every time I play this game 🖤 I will raid every pantry in this tactician run so help me gods because I am not missing a single camp scene (though I do fear I may miss the chance for steam to know I’m a whore and would let Astarion gobble it down every night because I was expecting Wyll’s cutscene after recruiting Karlach, but nOoOo a different set of horns took center stage.)
I bought BG3 for the PC and I restarted my campaign with my OC durge Calypso because I wanted to be able to get some pics for my fic and JUST LOOK AT HOW PRETTY, HOW CUNTY, UGH I LOVE HER. I can't wait to learn how to properly use photo mode lol
Gale and Calypso get tangled up in an unexpected lesson
2.1k words - Gale and Calypso find Phalar Aluve and some unexpected company - and a near confession - combo cast rain and lightning is something to behold - please welcome the Battle Hymn Sorceress and her Wizard of Waterdeep to the stageeeee
"Either way, I'm yours."
****
You stepped up the pile of stone, leaning over to examine the intricate details carved within the blade. It was gold and delicate, swirling patterns and a foreign language scripted upon it.
"Can you feel it?" Gale said, crouching beside you as he examined it. "It's of the magical persuasion."
"I can feel it," you affirmed, raising a knuckle towards it as you brushed an inch away from it - the magic thrummed like a forcefield around the weapon, shivering against the magic that pulsated around you. Two invisible forces, greeting each other in formality. "You know, the last time I just took a random magical weapon I almost died."
"Well had I been there, you wouldn't have almost died," he countered tritely, turning to look at you like the idiot you were. "There were books across the monastery you know, talking about a relic that could be found to deactivate the lance and it would have allowed you to just take the weapon, rather than crumble the entire monastery for the chance -"
"Don't worry, I've heard plenty enough from Astarion," you said under your breath as you blushed from the reminder.
"Look, all I'm saying is that most items have a fee. Whether it be a tome or an incantation or a sacrifice, there is always a way to be found a worthy recipient. So examine it," he raised his brows and nodded towards the weapon. "Breathe it in, what is it telling you?"
You opened your palm to it, focusing your eyes on the script of the blade as your magic melded with it and before you could even start to hum, the flash of metal coated your tongue and promptly disappeared. You flinched, narrowing your eyes at it and then back to Gale. "Blood. I tasted blood."
He smiled approvingly. "And if you knew anything about your heritage, you might have recognized that this isn't just a drow blade, but a blade belonging to a drow who has forsaken Lolth and follows Eilistraee. A warrior's blade made of sacrifice."
"Blood demands blood?"
"Precisely."
You turned back to the blade and reached a hand out towards it, slowly wrapping your hand around it - pausing as you stared at yourself. It was strange, to witness your own self-mutilation. It took you right back to the shame of yesterday, but before it could begin to eat at you, you squeezed the blade tightly in your hand until blood began to drip down the blade. Gale winced, but you didn't so much as flinch.
The inscription and carvings of the blade lit up as if fire inlaid within the gold, making you step back as that did set a panic in your blood. "Sure about this?" You asked shakily, warily looking around for any explosives or traps that might kill you both where you stood.
"Well, no, but I'm mildly confident," he tittered, stepping back with you.
The blade rose slowly from the stone, glistening with blood and forbidden daylight, hanging mid-air in a quiet, gentle offering. Just as slowly, you reached for the hilt and took it.
A melody, so soft you thought you might be imagining it, danced across your head, swelling through the blade and taking your breath away as it latched onto you - as it attuned to you. It felt gracious and gentle, but gratingly strong. And the melody didn't stop - perhaps you were the only one to hear it, but as you held it, it was as if it was whispering to you. You took another step back, swinging the blade around yourself and as you did, the melody burst from it and emboldened your swing.
"Little blessings," Gale murmured as he watched you delight in your new find.
"I love it," you praised. You spun it around your wrist, it strangely light for long sword. "I miss my chain, but this - this is good too."
"I think perhaps it was meant for you. The sword wielding, battle hymn sorceress."
Your cheeks swelled with a grin. "The Battle Hymn Sorceress; has a nice ring to it."
"I'll be sure to let Volo know our champion has chosen her namesake. Welcome to the club."
"Gale of Waterdeep and the Battle Hymn Sorceress, tales from the Underdark," you jested, sliding the blade into the sash Astarion had fashioned at your waist to test if it would hold. As you flickered your gaze back up, your hair getting tossed across your shoulders, you saw that he was just gazing deeply back at you. "Gale?"
"Um," he blinked deeply, shaking his head as he laughed short and dry. "Sorry, that's, um, I like that."
"Me too," you said brightly. "You are my sidekick, after all."
"Hmm," he mused, the stun wearing off his features as he narrowed his eyes. "Then shouldn't it be The Battle Hymn Sorceress and Gale of Waterdeep?"
"No, doesn't sound right like that. It needs to roll of the tongue, right? Also keeps me mysterious." You wiggled your brows back at him as you began to meander once more.
"The Battle Hymn Sorceress and her Wizard of Waterdeep?" He suggested, matching your pace.
"You're my sidekick, not my pet," you snorted.
"Either way, I'm yours," he said.
Your feet faltered as his words took your breath away.
"I," he started, stuttering past the fluster of his own tongue before he just took a deep breath and looked at you as if he was mustering a quiet bravery. "Calypso, I -"
A strange, nasally roar tore through the air and you stared with wide eyes past Gale as a giant, looming shadow began to creep towards you.
"Gale," you whispered, carefully gripping the hilt of your sword.
"Oh my," he choked as he turned around. "It seems we've stumbled upon a minotaur."
"Shouldn't mino indicate that it's tiny?" You squeaked as its hulking form came into view. Its eyes were beady and red, buried deep within a massive head, strangely light flesh colored and lacking the bestial coverage of hair. The beast stood on two feet, built like Karlach but four times as large with curved horns and a large bludgeoning weapon clutched within its hands.
"Nope," he returned, voice tweaked high into his own register, "it means head of the bull and body of the man -"
The beast let out a wail that made your bones itch when it finally charged you.
You both screamed - you'd faced scarier things, but this monstrosity put your teeth on edge, uncanny to look at and screeching like it was bred from the hells themselves. "Shit, shit, shit -"
"Now's your chance to use that thing," Gale insisted as he brought his hands forwards, fingers arching and twirling around themselves as he threw a sigil across the ground in front of the beast - but despite the thunder making the beast scream, it did nothing to slow it down.
"Fuck!" You shouted, poising your new weapon before you rushed towards the beast. It raised its great club high above its head and you let your knees buckle from beneath you as it attempted to strike you overhead, skidding across the ground as you gouged across its belly. The sword let out a burst of melody to your ears - you felt the blade shift, gouge deeper than the might of your own hands could even thrust it, spilling blood across your face as it stumbled past you, barely missing crushing you beneath its hooved feet. You choked the blood out of your mouth as you scrambled back up, but not before it reared back and backhanded you across the ribs, slinging you several feet away.
"Calypso!" Gale shouted for you, but your mind was taking far longer than usual to catch up as you'd clattered into some century's old debris. You rolled over, groaning as you tried to orient your eyes. You looked up through the blanket of your hair, dripping with the minotaur's thick blood, trying to figure why you couldn't get the doubles to clear out of your vision -
"Oh fuck," you moaned, looking up slowly as you saw the second minotaur running down the hill towards you. You jumped up, righting the sword in your hand as your blood lit through your veins in unused purpose, cracking your neck against your knuckles as you narrowed in your focus. "Alright, motherfucker," you said, spitting the taste of blood from your mouth before charging up the hill towards the beast.
It swung its club, you barely jumped from the impact zone in time, slicing your sword across the back of one of its legs. It wailed and attempted to stumble back on you as it looked around its ankles in an attempt to find you. You rolled swiftly out of the way, twisting the blade in your hands and jabbing it into the opposite thigh.
The beast reared its club at you once more and you flinched, preparing for impact as you raised your sword to deflect its assault when your weapon let out a shriek - the sound matching the unnatural tenor of the minotaur's wailing as it halted the club like it was just as thick and you were just as strong. Your eyes flashed up at the minotaur, and you swore you could see the same confusion mirrored across its face.
Its hesitation did not last long before it reared its arm back, attempting to batter through your defense. Each hit, the blade let out another shrieking noise, but each hit jolted your bones and dropped the blade a little closer to your own throat. Swift, you flipped the blade to its side and used your hand to press flat against it, pushing up against the next strike with aching arms and deflecting the club with a shove, screaming through clenched teeth as you rolled away and threw yourself back up on your feet. You ran up the hill, trying to gain as much distance from the beast as possible could before you spun on your feet and ran as hard as you could, launching yourself through the air and towards the beast Gale was battling.
You sliced across its back, dropping low to miss its swing. Gale threw an ice knife towards the beasts throat, stumbling back as he panted and watched the beast choke on the impalement. You growled through your teeth, swinging your sword with as much volatility as you could muster and swept right through its left leg, completely decapitating it.
Gale ran towards you, grabbing your shoulders as he attempted to tug you out of its way as it began to collapse over towards you, making you both crash against the ground in a very defenseless heap.
The other beast was already charging you both as you panted in a tangled mess of limbs. You looked at each other for a split second. "Now or never, Sorceress. Show me if I'm actually a good teacher," his voice was husky, eyes urgent.
"You want me to drown it?" You screeched, searching his face for any semblance of sanity at his request.
"Now," he commanded, locking eyes back on the beast as purple whisps began to curl across his temples and feather down his arm as he outstretched it. Your heart thundered but you locked your attention back on the beast, each step forward thundered across the ground, the sword sang against your thigh - all of the noise, the music of battle, began to coalesce and you felt the magic drop through your skull and yourself rise above your body.
Rain cascaded around the beast, your fingers spreading wide as you directed it and that's when Gale hissed under his breath and lightening shot out from his fingers, lighting up the water you'd soaked the earth and beast with. Its great body seized mid stride, legs tangling against one another before it crumbled in its tracks.
"Holy shit," you gasped, looking at Gale in bewilderment.
Breathlessly, a smile curled at the corner of his lips as he looked back at you. "See, told you. Water is more than forgiveness and fortification. It's malice and devastation too." You both looked back at the minotaur, watching it twitch into what you had to assume was unconsciousness. "We should probably head back now though, you know, before we get into more trouble."
You nodded vigorously, trying to untangle yourself from him but getting wrapped up in your cape, falling over his legs and coughing as your lungs slammed against your ribs.
Gale tried to stifle a laugh, but you just glared at him over your shoulder and hit him across the back. "Careful! I don't know where the detonation button is within me -"
"Oh my gods," you laughed hoarsely, slightly mortified as you scrambled off of him.
"How was that for a lesson," he joked, letting you help him up from the ground.
"Useful and effective," you nodded, looking over your shoulder as you both began to walk with speed away from the downed minotaur. "I'm sure that was all a part of your master plan, wasn't it?"
"I can't have you knowing all my tricks," he jested, grabbing your arm to drag you in the opposite direction you were headed, redirecting you towards camp.
****
You've met Professor Dekarios, now go read the whole chapter and meet Astarion the Tailor 😭🖤
When he pushes her in the arms of someone else, can he silently brave witness to it?
excerpt from chapter 32: Gale and Calypso get tangled up in a little lesson.
1.5k words - Gale discovers that Calypso is a Sorceress and loses his shit - turns into Professor Dekarios real quick - and uses her own tactics against her like flirtatious warfare - check part 2 to see the wizard and the sorceress put these skills to the test
****
Your breath softened and your limbs relaxed, feeling a calm coast over you as you nodded. "Do your worst, wizard."
"As you wish," he obliged, wry smile at the corner of his cheek. "Hold out your hands, like this," he instructed, holding his palms out in a bowl shape.
"Okay," you said warily, copying his movement.
"This is something I learned at an early age, most young wizards know how to conjure the most basic elements with a simple thought." You watched as the slightest hint of purple glowed shallow across his palms before it began to glimmer and rise, turning into water filling his hands, dripping gently through the microscopic gaps in his clasped fingers, never losing its volume despite.
"Our lesson is conjuring a drink?" You teased, raising a brow.
"See, you may think it simple, but water as your ally has many privileges and advantages that will avail themselves to you in time. Go on, gather your connection with the weave, and as you do, I want you to visualize the water in your palms until you feel it materialize."
At first, you tried to just call upon the magic - you could feel it now just past the reaches of your mind, recognize that it also hovered around you, like a fine layer of second skin you were blind to. It shivered as you thought upon it, tingling across your arms and fingertips, but as you tried to strengthen your connection, it felt like you hit a stone wall and you lost the feeling. "Shit," you whispered, closing your eyes as you sighed, preparing your voice.
The song soothed through the distress that had yet to relax your throat, felt like the warmth of a hug and security of a blanket - and it resonated with the dream that you'd stirred awake from this morning - at least the one where you'd remembered your hands small and agile, spinning water into snow before your eyes. Whoever you were when that happened, you were safe. You were loved. You were just a child.
The magic that clung to your aura ignited, swelling around you like scents cling to flowers, rushing down your arms and into your palms as you felt the tickle of water droplets coat your palms. Your breathing hitched but you didn't dare open your eyes, feeling the water pool in your hands. "Am I doing it?" You asked.
"See for yourself," he tempted.
You peeked out one eye and saw the water swirling in your palms, relaxing as you laughed and stopped tensing.
And then Gale slapped the underside of your hands and sloshed the water about.
"What the hells," you scolded through a giggle. "I worked really hard on that."
"Apologies," he hummed, though the smile on his lips was anything but apologetic, "guess you'll just have to do it again," he finished with a shrug.
"Fine," you huffed, closing your eyes to pull your magic again - but then he just started talking.
"Did you know there are three layers to the Underdark? The Upperdark, Middledark, and the Lowerdark. We've barely scratched the surface, or I suppose I should say we've barely descended into the Upperdark. Most often, people like us, from Toril, barely go deeper than the Upperdark layer -"
Your brows twitched and furrowed, having to try and chase after your magic now with purpose.
"The Middledark is where most of the Underdark's society and cities collect. There are great collections of Drow families that are all lead by a Matron. This woman is fierce and vicious, keeping all the drow in line beneath her for threat of torturous punishment otherwise -"
You grunted in frustration, trying to block out his incessant blabbering - as well as trying to not get sucked in by your own interest. "Gale," you warned through your teeth as your arms shook ever so slightly against the battle of your concentration.
"Drow society operates on Lolth's principles and faith, making up the law alone - that and whatever the Matron Mother's see fit," he added, slapping the underside of your hand as you felt water begin to bead across your palms.
"Come on!" You groaned, but you just shook your head and focused harder. It shouldn't be this hard! You'd made a literal rainstorm happen last night, even with Gale trying to distract you, you should be able to conjure a measly handful of water.
"I for one would hate to be judged by a drow woman," he then cooed, feeling the energy of his body close to your shoulder as his words drew closer still - you could feel the blush burn across your cheeks at the proximity. "They say that drow women offer little mercy, offer little peace, but demand complete subservience from their suitors in return. And you'd think, 'hmm, that sounds awfully terrible', but then you also think of just how many drow there are out there and you have to wonder - is it really so bad?"
You began to hum your lullaby, ignoring the way his voice had dropped into a soothing hum that he'd used when he read story after story to you.
"Surely the men would have revolted if being with their women truly came at such a cost, right? But what do I know? I'm just a man who cannot help but bow down at the feet of a competent woman, so perhaps I'm not the right one to question."
"No one's questioning you," you returned, voice strung high through the top of your mouth as you tried desperately to hang onto your intention.
"Ah, of course. My devotion is clear then, is it?"
You almost choked - you couldn't think straight anymore, entirely too afraid to open your eyes and scrutinize Gale's words.
"Come now, Calypso, if you really did conjure the storm last night, surely you can manage to wet your palms for me?"
You groaned as he verbalized your own thoughts, fingers clenched tight in their cupped shape, barely resisting curling into a fist.
"Need a little help?" He goaded as you felt his finger trace the flesh of your open palms, flinching at the gentle softness of contact, and then as if it was as easy as a touch, you felt his magic swell against your skin and fill your palms with water.
Your eyes flashed open and you glared at him. Gale was barely containing a grin as you spread your fingers to let the water slosh against the ground. "I can do this," you vowed.
"I have no doubt," he murmured, much more coy now that your eyes were open. "So you see," he then continued, holding up a finger as if resuming a lecture as he drew thoughtful steps around where you'd planted yourself, continuing to ramble. You let out a smooth breath and closed your eyes again. You decided to listen to him instead of blocking him out, tracked him with your ears as he walked circles around you, let the metronome of his voice calm your nerves - felt for the magic that hung to his own aura and how it pulsated in time with his own energy.
And then you waited, stalking him as you felt the magic coil calmly back against your skin, through the front of your brow, waited for him to round your back once more and allowed the water to fill up your palms and just as he rounded your shoulder, you splashed him in the face.
"Ha!" You shouted, jumping up and panting like you'd beat him in a race.
"Should have seen the coming," he commented flatly as he blinked the water from his lashes, but then softened swiftly as he watched you laugh at him before he wiped at his face with the sleeve of his robe.
"I'm sorry," you giggled, taking the edge of your cape to help sop up the water clinging to his beard.
"Don't be," he chuckled back, absently cradling the hand that held the fabric of your cape to his face, guiding your hand to dry it further.
You felt a pinch in your stomach as you realized you'd forgotten about all the discord you'd left at camp when you walked away with him. And you remembered how it had been Astarion's specialty to do that for you up until a few nights ago.
"What?" He asked then, pausing as he watched the realization cross your face.
"I -" you looked across his warm eyes before you sighed, shrugging as you pulled away from him. "I guess we have to go back now, don't we?"
"Well, I guess that is what we should do," he murmured, giving you a thoughtful glance over. "But the world will not change so quickly that we couldn't steal a bit more time for ourselves," he offered.
Your lips twitched into another small, restrained smile when you shook your head. "I've stolen quite enough time for us as it is. Who knows, the dream visitor could get tired of helping us one day and we'll become squids at the drop of a hat." You walked past him and began to head back towards camp. "We should go kill some cultists."
****
this chapter is FILLED with angsty goodies btw 🖤🤭 just wanted to share my Gale-centric stuff cause I do love their dynamic
Lo, Behold this life! A stage of ceaseless woe,
A tragedy when peered at, breast to breast;
And though we flee to heights where tempests blow,
'Tis but a tragedy in distance dressed.
(Long scroll ahead)
Something i've been working on as part of a zine project. I wanted to show Theian's past and how he became who he is now.
excerpt from Astarion's POV of the previous chapter (where boy takes advantage of his disillusioned drow's feelings) where we get a unique perspective on what's really going through his brain.
1.7 k words - flashbacks of life in the palace / mentions of Cazador and past abuse
****
Astarion tried to rest. He tried forgetting the tenderness of her touch against his scars - somehow the sensation all he could remember when he barely felt her doing it in the moment. And the ghost of that silly little lullaby she always hummed ran circles across his mind, getting tangled in barbaric twists of fate that he could not stop himself from indulging in imagining.
How many of them would die in Cazador's presence?
How many of them would Cazador gore the final breath from their lungs before Astarion could manage to return the favor to him?
The idea of even Wyll being slaughtered tormented him - if for nothing other than the way he imagined Karlach would lose the momentum of her axe and weep at the loss. Gale, he could probably stomach, but what of Shadowheart? Lae'zel or Karlach? They were not his friends by any stretch of the word, but they'd shared bloodshed in a way he'd never done with anyone else. It was starting to mean something to him and he hadn't anticipated that either.
So he forced himself to watch.
Astarion forced himself to not flinch from the wild musings of his mind as it replayed his own trauma over their likeness.
He imagined Shadowheart being chained to the floor, stripped naked as Cazador carved poetry against her back. The way her lip would tremble and tears would break down the black smudging of her eye makeup but she would not make a sound until Cazador dared tease her that he was through, only for him to start over once more and recarve every inch of broken skin.
He imagined Lae'zel, being forced to watch as his siblings held her by her wrists and flayed off every dark spot across her green flesh with a dull blade. That she too would cry out to absent gods, beg them to divine mercy and be left with only the pain of punishment and the absence of a gods empathy.
How Wyll would be speared through the chest by his own rapier, being drained dry by Cazador himself before he could take his dying breath, barely able to conjure the magic of his patron who would wait expectantly to pull his near dead body into the hells for consumption. And that Karlach would watch - that she would combust - that she would be so consumed with rage and grief that she wouldn't notice Godey cutting the engine from her chest.
And Gale, how they would love to torture that poor sod. How they might impale him through his jaw so that he'd never be able to strike a spell with his tongue even once. How his sibling's mouths would froth when the caught eyes of Halsin as a bear, completely disregarding everything else in an effort to drink of such a rich beast.
And then, he imagined her.
Astarion imagined how much Cazador would favor her resilience. How he would lose sight of Astarion entirely to simply play a bloodied game of war with her like it was simply the hashing of cards about a table. He would recognize her as the ace of spades - the card of death and mortality and he would know that he'd found his match. They would spar, Cazador would dodge and ridicule and spit slander on Astarion's name and he would watch her heart bleed first and know just how to destroy her.
And then Cazador would consider not doing that at all.
No, once he saw in Calypso what Astarion saw within her, he would cherish her suffering as he would cherish Astarion's own. Cazador would run her down until he could grab her by the throat and take her mortal life from her, committing her immortal one to himself.
It would be that moment exactly that Astarion would be able to kill Cazador where he stood - distracted by the song of Calypso's blood and the monster that raged behind those soft eyes.
If he was to be free, he had to be ready to witness their demise. Each and every one.
And he would be free.
Yet the only image he could not force himself to curate in his mind was the last of them. As he'd imagine her, buckled in Cazador's arms as he buried his fangs within her neck, watching her eyes gaze back lazily at Astarion - her arm would always reach towards him in this thought. She would always look for him to save her, even if she'd chose to do exactly what she'd done - because she would. She would run at Cazador, she would offer herself as a trade so that he might have a moment to catch Cazador off guard and he would let her. He would let her but she would still reach out to him even then and -
Astarion's entire body was so rigid he felt as though he was confined to that fucking coffin all over again.
He sat up, shaking his arms as he grabbed a book and tried to wipe away the corruptive fixations. They were nowhere near Baldur's Gate. He had plenty of time to shake away those feelings. To numb himself to their inevitable demise.
As he lifted the flaps of his tent, felt the brush of still air against his face, he heard the flutter of her heart across it and his gaze flickered up.
Her eyes met his through an entanglement of free-flowing locks and his gut wrenched as he stilled and stared back at her a moment. His lips twitched in mechanical response as he relaxed himself down into a cushion.
And then she looked away.
And he just laughed.
He couldn't help it.
She was everywhere. No matter how he tried to distance himself from her, no matter how he tried to simply dream of her death so that he would feel more comfortable without her strange, consuming presence, she always found a way to just appear.
Appear when he felt weak without her.
He watched as her entire body tightened, shielded by the thick swaths of her unkept hair, the scent of water and earth clinging against her skin as the nearly unmovable air barely carried it to him.
He wanted to ask her why she would not just stay gone - but it was a stupid and rather rhetorical question to ask within the confines of their camp and it would illicit some response he wasn't fit to deal with.
It clicked then, that he knew exactly how to deal with her.
The softness of her hurt eyes, the labored anger of her body as it fought for her to be brave enough to serve him backlash for his mood swings but would never betray that sticky little heart.
She was still his, wasn't she?
Even after he'd blown up, she still waited for him to come to her - arm always outstretched towards him.
The problem was that was exactly what he could not stomach - the softness and yearning for more than he was willing to give, yet. . . Astarion pondered quickly and then felt a rabid darkness swell across his chest as his shoulders straightened out and he began to scheme. She would do as he said all the same, regardless of what he returned to her, wouldn't she?
There was only one way to find out.
"Star gazing, are we?"
The moment she'd spoken with Withers in that tomb, he knew with absolute certainty that she would be his prey. How small and defenseless she had sounded as she answered his obscure question of what a mortal life was worth. Astarion had known his answer: none, really. As an immortal, and at that juncture in their journey, he could not fathom the worth of mortality. Mortality was frivolous and fleeting, it mattered not what you did or how you did it because soon it would be over and that was that. However, she'd said the strangest thing in reply to him. "My life seems worth little."
Small and frail, she sounded. Yet he'd just seen her take a fireball to the chest and it only seemed to fuel her strength further. He'd seen her dive from a banister and slay a skeleton while her blood free flowed across her chest in a way that had any other mortal been faced with, they would have been catatonic. There was nothing small or frail about her, but inside she was and that was precisely the kind of prey he enjoyed most.
He would fill her with affirmation and fantasy, that she could be more than she ever saw herself and for once, it would still be manipulation, but it would also be true. He'd never met anyone quite like her and it was as if all those lost prayers that had drifted past the shells of the god's disinterested ears had finally been answered. She was everything he'd needed for two centuries and there she was, on the beach, reeking of loss and isolation and simply waiting for him to swoop in and fill her mind with purpose.
And for the smallest moment, Astarion had been afraid that night. As his steps were silent against the raging of the ocean that lapped near her feet, he saw the sea monster that she was. He'd heard stories, about sirens who took the form of maidens to lure in unsuspecting men, only to devour them whole and sink their corpse into the bottom of the sea - and as she stood there, long dark hair lapping against the wind, hands clinging to her crossed arms as she sighed gently, calling out to the riveting darkness of the sea as her head dropped, he just knew.
He knew in that moment that it would take little to make her his own little monster.
"Waiting for the sun to rise, actually," she finally replied, eyes up at the skyless ceiling of the Underdark, voice tinged with that same self-doubt and delicious lack of self. Astarion ignored the pang in his gut, the small twisting of his own self-doubt as his face dropped into an easy smile - if she too was brave enough to rehash their history, then he would be brave enough to rewrite it, but this time, he would ensure he was the one in control of the narrative. It would not slip back into her hands as it had last time.
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read the rest of the chapter (and it's previous chapter/companion chapter) here!
5.6k words - after Astarion and Calypso's fight after the creche incident, Astarion finds himself unable to keep from playing with his food.
smut - all holes occupied - hate sex - fighting more than fucking but they still fucking - sorcerer reveal after being lost to Calypso's memories (yeah, he fucked the magic right out of her lmao i said what i said)
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As your eyes felt flayed open, you heard the first rustling of noise that made you blink in gods knew how long.
You looked over and your mouth soured, watching Astarion descend from his tent. He ducked through the flaps, smoothing out his shirt with a book tucked under his arm before his eyes met yours. You looked away swiftly, clutching your knees as the feeling of your entire body flooded back from your dissociated state.
Your heart rattled as you held your breath, trying to keep your lungs moving in a shallow, even tempo to settle it quicker than you knew he'd be able to hear its distress, but as you peeked back at him from beneath your undone mess of hair, you saw him smirk as he sat down upon a cushion outside of his tent, lounging with complete ease facing you.
You turned away from him and he laughed.
Your jaw tightened and tears bit across your eyes, but you buried them quickly as you stared upward, allotting them a death down the back of your throat. You wouldn't have him believe they were for him. No, you'd just had an incredibly shitty day already, partially in thanks to him, but the tears were all for you and your lack of ability to keep yourself from hurting everyone around you. This had nothing to do with him, he just wasn't helping.
"Star gazing, are we?"
Your gut lurched.
"Star gazing, are we? You should try looking up at them sometime."
"Counting the grains, actually. It's boring work, you should find yourself more entertaining company."
"Mm, yes, I suppose I should. However, I do find you the most entertaining of all our followers."
"Waiting for the sun to rise, actually," you whispered hollowly.
"Star gazing not good enough for you?" He returned in a purr, somehow much closer to you than he'd been before - your heart hammered.
So, he remembered too.
How painful the words sounded now that you really understood their meaning.
"You know what I see when I look at you? I see beauty and bloodshed, my dear. A fine dance articulating the fragility of life and death at your fingertips."
How had his words burned ruts within your skull and you'd never really heard them before? He'd been clear what he wanted from you all along.
"I am quite familiar with the art of beauty and bloodshed. It may come as a surprise that it is a particular specialty of mind. The difference is that you have the power to seek control over it. I do - did not."
He needed you to take control of the monster - he didn't need you.
He'd really done everything but spell it out for you from the beginning, yet you let the tone of his voice carry meaning the frame of his lips had never spoken. He'd needed you for one thing and had you taken a moment to look past his eyes and read between the lines of his lust laden words, you'd seen it from the beginning.
"No, I'm far too familiar with the night." Your voice trembled.
"So you are," he whispered then, right across the shell of your ear, taking your breath from your lungs as his hands curled around the unruly curtain of your hair and pulled it back over your shoulder.
"What are you doing," your question barely carried the weight of being worthy of a response, pathetic and terrified - not of him, but of yourself. How long would you convince yourself that you were worth the space you took up, just so you might have the chance of his attention? You felt so fucking stupid, playing over and over again every word he'd ever spoken in your direction, until you'd convinced yourself they meant more than they ever did.
"I may not need you," he hummed, sliding his fingers across your shoulder, "but I have grown used to your neck against my lips."
Your heart crashed and your eyes fluttered shut.
You missed it too.
You tilted your neck open to him, not fighting for even one moment before you heard him chuckle, the sound resonating through your ear and into your spine, sending goosebumps across your flesh.
His lips pressed gently against your throat and you tried to stifle the soft, desperate moan that rolled at the base of your tongue. It wasn't even out of pleasure, but pure failure. It was the sound of caving, the sound of your own soul cursing death upon you for being so stupid as to let him touch you -
His teeth sank into your skin, and you jerked upright as his hands gripped your shoulders, the pinch of ice washing across your veins and into your heart as survival-based fear perpetuated your nervous system.
Your eyes flew open, but all you could see was him - everywhere, every time he'd smiled, every time he'd caught you before nightmares could seize you or your death at someone else's hands could take you, every time he'd pulled a scream from your lips but you'd felt nothing but agonizing bliss.
His lips trailing your skin.
His eyes heavy and laden with focused intent and wringing pleasure from your body.
His fingers anchoring your body to his.
His tongue parting your heat like his mouth had been meant to quote scripture between your legs -
You squirmed, breathing heavily as your eyes fluttered shut once more and you slumped against his chest, giving yourself over to the ride as he drank the life from your skin.
His nose nuzzled against the front of your throat, his left hand snaking up with a painful gentleness to cradle the side of your cheek while his right hand wrapped around your chest -
Tears clawed at the underside of your eyelids.
To be consumed by him was the closest thing to love you'd ever feel, wasn't it?
Your chest began to heave as panic threatened to choke you, eyes fluttering open as the endless darkness greeted you and rage swelled within you like a defensive spell, swallowing the longing and chomping its throat like a rabid dog, twisting, snarling, growling as it foamed at the mouth - it demanded to be treated more than the feral beast it was.
Your hand ran up and gripped a tight fist within his hair, holding him to your neck as bitter desire swelled between your thighs.
Quicker than your fragile state of mind could follow the sound of him growling against your throat, he ripped himself from your skin and twisted you in his arms, pressing his lips to yours as his tongue curled through your mouth. Your moan cut loose through your connected lips, echoing into his throat. He pushed you beneath him, using his knee to kick yours apart as he pinned your hands against the ground.
Your fingers desperately gripped towards his, digging your nails across his fingers in some strange, rash attempt to mark him - to carve out the agony he'd left you alone to swallow.
He tore into your bottom lip as his hips curved down between your legs, electrifying the throbbing mess that was compressed beneath your pants. A cry of rage began to spike up your chest when he pressed his mouth against yours once more, swiftly trapping both wrists above your head in one hand as his free hand struck across your throat to snuff out your vocal cords.
In a barely restrained whisper, Astarion dropped his lips to your ear, "Do you make such noise in hopes my hands will take your breath away? Or do you wish for an audience? I suppose," he rasped then, ghosting his tongue across the shell of your ear as you thrashed beneath him, barely a whisper of oxygen able to slip between your lungs, "if that is your desire, I'll let you sing for all of them." He released your throat and uncontrollably to your own lips, you let out a mewl before clamping your bottom one between your own teeth.
His eyes darted between yours, bright and alight against the feral nature feeding always left them.
Your legs flinched around his waist, unable to find a distinction between being prey and everything you desired from him.
"Thought so." He rose up from you on his knees, releasing you so his fingers could work at your waist ties before his hands slunk up your ribs beneath your shirt, thumbs roughly working over your nipples as he slipped your shirt over your head. The whine that churned against your trembling lips was lost to you, so far from humility that you could barely cling to decency.
Part of you knew they'd all be stirring soon, part of you knew this was absolutely humiliating, part of you knew this is what groveling looked like and a deeper part of you was absolutely fucking seething - but all was lost to the sunlight that he was to you, bursting through the drapes of the hallowed halls of your abandoned mind.
As you were finally exposed, his hand pressed deeply across your abdomen, up your sternum, between your breasts, until it clenched around the base of your throat once more.
Your lips hung open, your heartbeat filling them as blood dripped from the small slices his fangs had left against your bottom lip, droplets coating your teeth and tongue. His eyes were like fire, desire molten like lava across the peeks and valleys of his irises as he took in every detail of your face - the way you fought for breath, the way your blood glistened across your teeth, the way you twitched and writhed around him but did nothing to stop him. The way you fucking hated him as much as you wanted him, you were sure he saw even that with as deep as his gaze bore through you.
His free hand angled between your legs, fingers finding themselves easily past the waist of your pants as they curved between your thighs and stoked up your lips. Choking, muted noises pulled at your strangled throat, a dangerous grin curving so slightly at the corners of his lips you weren't sure it wasn't just a shadow. Your hands clawed at his arm anchoring your throat, brows furrowing as fury and desire intermingled across your hazing brain - if he was only to use you and you were only to let him, you would not give yourself over so easily.
Your arm stretched, your nails scratching across the air just an inch from his own neck - you wanted to devour him. You wanted to take him to the oblivion you had found yourself in and let him sink into the devastation with you - but then he plunged two fingers into your cunt and you snapped out of your anger, back arching as your hands fell back down to his wrist, gripping onto him like your life depended upon him and him alone.
Spots danced across your eyes, your pupils beginning to roll across your lashes like they forgot how to function as pleasure and oxygen deprivation began to tingle so violently across your skin it was the only thing you could feel.
Astarion let you sink against his fingers at your throat and slit until you almost lost yourself when he finally released you.
You broke out in spasms, gasping and choking as you drank the air into your chest like a fish out of water - leaving you distracted enough for him to pull your pants down and from your ankles without any fight.
As the air struck all your senses, realizing how naked and exposed you were for him, your anger reignited - you stilled in calculation, watching him undo his own waist ties with practiced hands and ignored the gut-wrenching desire that filled your abdomen as he pulled his cock from his pants.
Your left leg came up, crashing against his ribs as you grappled his shoulders, throwing him beneath you as you rolled atop him - you couldn't even enjoy the surprise that filled his eyes as you knew it'd give him too much power - and he already had so much over you.
You straddled Astarion's body and let yourself fall low across him, his cock pressing rigid against the softness of your belly as you bit against your own lip as hard as you could, dropping down to fiercely press your lips against his, the blood running from your mouth to his. Your fingers gripped into his hair, grinding your body against his cock - for a moment, he was far too stunned and consumed by your blood to fight you back. He just wrapped his arms around you, pressed the small of your back tighter against his abdomen, grinding his hips against you as he pulled your bottom lip into his mouth.
A shallow groan hummed at his lips as his teeth nipped against the raw edges of your own shallow cuts before his eyes flashed open in a dark, delirious fury.
His hand whipped around the back of your neck, scruffing you like a wild cat as his fingers tangled against your hair, yanking your head back and drawing a squeak from your throat.
"You play like you don't know who your opponent is, darling," he growled, his other hand cupping the front of your throat and choking you once more.
"You - play - like you," you gasped, clawing at his fingers as you tried to peer down at him from the angle his vice grip kept your head pulled back at, "like you know where you next meal - comes from."
A haunting, dark laugh tumbled low across his ribs as he sat forward with you perched atop him, no strain against his muscles as he wrestled your weight easily against his own arms. He pushed your head forward to look him dead in the eyes, still giving you no leverage of your own neck. "Given freely or taken by guilt, I will have you whenever I please, now won't I?"
Impossible shame filled your face as your lashes fluttered over the truth of his statement - gods, he was right.
And the heat swelling between your thighs, tantalizing your clit, dripping across the legs of his pants told him everything he needed to know about your inevitable submission without a single word from your mouth.
"That's what I thought." His voice was raw and fervent.
You growled like the wild animal he held you as.
Right as he was, you would make him fight for every drop of pleasure he took from you. For every mental hallway that was filled with the sound of his voice, every inch of bone that had been carved out across your body to commit his likeness to memory, every heartbeat that stepped out of tune when you met his eyes. He would pay, if he was to have you this night.
Your hand seized his cock, the flutter of zombified butterflies flaying your skin as you'd so desired to hold him, to touch him, to profess your own devotion against his flesh - but he'd never let you, so you would take it in indignation. Your thumb rutted against the underside of his cock, smoothing over the thick vein that twisted across the length of it as your fingers thrummed across the top side, pulsating sensations across him at a consuming, metered pace - his jaw twitched, his eyes fluttered shut, and his head tilted slightly to the side as a nearly uncomfortable moan cracked against his tongue.
Gasping, barely able to, you laughed bitterly.
He didn't fight it at first, though you knew there was some battle within his own mind as he kept his eyes closed and shifted his thumb up the underside of your jaw before curving it into your mouth. Your tongue lapped across the softness, teeth enclosing it inside of your mouth as your hips swayed against his thighs in an attempt to relieve the aggravating desire that was screaming at you between them.
How you'd dreamed to hold his cock in your hand - why had it come to this point before he'd let you touch him like this?
Your heart leapt out of rhythm, beating heavily against the thought.
His eyes flashed open, searching yours for a moment as he heard the dysrhythmia, saw the hesitation of rage across your eyes and lips as your touch grew gentler around him, grew steady and languid as each stroke lost its spite and urgency, but gained a level of mercy only affection could harbor.
And then, in a swift act of supernatural strength, he threw you by the hair off of him, pinned you face down to the ground, and gripped so tightly against your inner thigh that your legs spasmed wider in a reactionary attempt to find freedom from his steel grip. His hand wound a fist of your hair within his fingers as he yanked your head back, sunk his teeth back into your neck, and shoved his cock into your aching, off-guard slit.
He barely shoved two fingers into your mouth before you erupted in a shrill cry, stifling the sound.
Astarion's tore from your neck to rattle a bitter, seething whisper into your ear, "You better find silence like you find submission, or else your little friends will come to see what's so wrong with their fearless leader," before he buried his face into the crook of your neck and tore a new set of gashes into your flesh once more.
Him. He was what was wrong with you, among so many other fucking things, but him? Gods, he was frighteningly parasitic and you were a most loving host.
You gasped past his fingers, bliss electrifying the front of your mind as he sunk deeply into your slit - it throbbing and pulsating, pulling him deeper within yourself like it had a life and desire all its own. Your shaking, trembling arms strained against the angle at which he held your head, holding yourself up just enough to angle your ass into him, frighteningly lost to how much you ached to hear him growl in your ear, feel his tongue lap up the blood from your body, feel his nails rip across your skin - it was safer to be destroyed this way.
As he ripped his fangs from your skin, they tore deep and scratched across your shoulder, pulling his slick fingers from your mouth to grip the softness around your hipbone, yanking you upward further so he could drive himself deeper within you.
Your brows furrowed, lips clamped shut, a scream clenching through your ribs in a vibrant cramp as all it wanted from you was release. Little slivers of the yearning ache caught against the roof of your mouth, whistling through your teeth in breathy hums - with each thrust you lost yourself a little further to fervor, to exhaustion, to blood loss; to the delirious tightening of your walls and the ache of him opening you back up with little reprieve leaving even less of you to grasp on to.
Astarion's nails drew sharp across your hips, tearing your skin as tears welled in your eyes, his hands lashing out to yank your own from beneath your chest, pinning them to your back as you slammed against the ground - binding them in a single hand without missing a beat of his hips tearing through your heat. His other hand grabbed your face, twisting it against the dirt to turn your cheek towards him, palming your face against the ground as his fingers tangled your hair into knots. You cranked your eyes to their corners, daring to glimpse at him as he loomed over you.
"You can't escape me," he hissed, pupils wide and face strangely absent as it was dark.
"I never left," you gurgled through a sudden sob, closing your eyes as both bliss and sorrow raptured your soul and stole it from your body entirely - leaving you with nothing but the rhythm of his cock and ribbons of truth. Leaving you with nothing but the waves of desire as it curved deep, hooked within the soft, wet caverns of your pleasure and began to ache against your approaching climax.
His hand widened across your face, spreading as if to cover it from himself, the action ripping the air from your lungs as you tried to peer past his fingers to see his face.
He'd always wanted to watch you lose yourself.
You choked on another cry, digging your face against the earth as you fought the onslaught of shaking limbs and withering mental inhibition. You began to roll your hips back against him, began to take control of his cock from within you, squeezing him and tempting the sensitivity of his head as it began to hitch deeper, sharper in the tenderest depths of your core.
Gods, it was fucking agonizing, but you would not cum first.
You would show him. You would prove to him how much he wanted you, even if he couldn't fucking stand you.
To hide from you as he took you was a step too far - a devastation you could not stomach. There was so little of you left and if he reduced you to nothing, to a quiet, seething, hollow toy, you were quite sure you would disappear. You would seethe, and you were hollow, but you would not be silent.
"You want me, you want me on my knees and all you have is to but speak my name and I will drop for you," you breathed. "You don't have to force me, but gods," you rumbled, your voice hiding deep within the gravel of your chest as your brain grew lighter, as your voice began to spew filthy lyrics in time to the unhinged rhythm of his desire to dominate you, "I love it when you do, Astarion."
You heard his breath stutter, felt the grip of his hand tighten around your wrists pinned at your back, felt the pain of your body began to pulse in time with the hedonistic, metaphysical nature of your ecstasy. "You can hate me, if this is what hate breeds. You can destroy me, if this is what destruction merits. You can violate, defile, and deny my temple its tithe and still I will be your patron, you godsforsaken bastard," you choked, tears of pleasure dripping across your lashes once more.
"Stop," he uttered, releasing your hands to palm your ass with power enough to bruise as he spread you wider, but he did not slow, he only rammed his cock into you with a greater ferocity, the sound echoing in sinful laps of fluid and skin, "do not make promises you cannot keep."
"You have the power here," you breathed hushed but indulgent, your tongue twisting against a cry of pleasure you bit back, freed hands flying forward to dig your fingers senselessly into the earth. "You wish to stop, then you stop. You have demanded my penance - I am giving you everything I have. Fuck," you cried shallowly, his fingers curving around against your lips from your cheek. You tightened your walls around his cock in retribution, feeling the cramps of your denial spread across your pelvis as your thighs shook violently.
He could take you, but his power would stop there - he could not dominate what was freely offered.
His hand clamped over your mouth quickly in anticipation of his next move - he was playing your game too. With the hand that palmed your butt, he prodded the pert entrance to your ass with his thumb. Your synapses began to fire wildly, like a frazzled machine you could not compute the order of operations it was being asked of - he'd never touched you there. It felt frightening and forbidden, but as his thumb nudged, your breathing jerked, and pleasure grew deeper in your stomach. Just when you thought you'd lose yourself to the curling sensation of bliss that rolled up from the curve of your pelvis across the backs of your eyes, he pressed his thumb past your entrance and into your ass, white hot pain and pleasure bursting through your spine as he muffled a wild scream against his hand.
Oh gods, you didn't know if you could do it.
"Please," you begged sloppily, muffled against his trembling hand, rabidly begging against every thrust. "Please, please, please -"
"Calypso -"
He breathed your name, tender and deep, rolling through his teeth in desperation.
Your chest collapsed, your hips jerked - your brain exploded within your skull as you denied your core its release, but lost yourself elsewhere.
Magic burst through your mind, stole your vision as sudden storm clouds filled the ceiling of the Underdark above your camp, thunder shook the sky, your entire body convulsed in an urgent warning that you were bridging too far out of your own control and it was begging you to find reclamation -
But all you saw were stars.
All you felt was him lurch against your backside, the heat of his release flood your walls, his hands losing their grips against your entrances to desperately grapple around your body as he buried a restrained cry into your shoulder.
Rain began to sprinkle in soft droplets, your entire head grew violently light, eyes rolling beneath your lids as his shaking hand snaked around your waist to greet your clit.
Electricity pulled you back to your body, and simultaneously out of your body as it crackled above your heads in strange bursts of light, and you shook your head - you wouldn't survive it.
"No, Astarion, please, stop -"
"You have no power here," he rasped as a reminder, though no animosity laced his tongue as he ran deep, swift circles around your swollen, impassioned, and neglected clit.
"I - I - " but you couldn't speak, you just fought with blind fear as you felt your mind and your magic fizzle around you, as your body lamented your refusal.
"Cum for me, darling," he enchanted like he wielded magic all his own, "now."
And just like that, you unraveled in a profound way - lightning struck through the sky, rain began to downpour, you jerked backward and slammed your body against his as he smothered your face in the crook of his elbow, choking down your unbridled screams for you as your core spasmed around his still twitching cock, the storm brewing just violently enough to cover the sounds that escaped.
And before you could even attempt to come down, he grappled your body against his and slipped from you, dragging you back to his tent as you heard the commotion follow of your companions rustling awake from the strange weather anomaly.
Soaking wet, he laid you down and pressed his body over yours, hand firmly clasped over your mouth as you continued to writhe and attempt to sob in delirium against the release of magic that felt like it had been backed up within your spirit and the orgasm your heart now hated you for indulging in.
You stared up at him with wide, frightened eyes.
He stared back at you, eyes wide and confused as well, his curls damp and dripping across his forehead, brows drawn low over his glowing eyes as he panted over you.
"Is that what you've been working on with the wizard?" He asked, breathless and raspy, the slightest twitch in the corner of his eye as he tried to make sense of what happened without giving you too much power over him.
You shook your head nonsensically, closing your eyes as you tried to be reasonable past the frayed corners of your psyche - you felt outside of your body, vibrating across every cell as the magic within your mind retracted and withered, snapping back into dormancy within you. All that was left was the trembling of thighs and lungs, the tears that had lost their indiscretion, and a hyperawareness that came from the release of sexual tension - and it left you feeling painfully odd and overspent. Both blissfully comfortable as he laid his entire body over top of yours and so afraid of what you'd see when you finally opened your eyes back up. "I don't - I don't know."
"Don't tell me all this time we've had a sorcerer in our midst and not even the wizard could smell it?"
Your brows furrowed suddenly, lids pulled down against the heaviness of mental and physical aftershocks - a sorcerer?
Whisps of something - something lost, something broken, something shriveled and condensed drifted across your mind, but before you could grasp at the fragments of memory, they were gone.
Why was it every time you discovered something about yourself, it left you feeling more and more alone?
You instinctively opened your eyes then - to see the one thing, find the one place you felt less alone. He was right there, an inch or so above you, one brow now crooked over his eye as you knew he was scheming within his brain of how this new discovery could be of use to him - and you just couldn't bring yourself to care. Your hands weaved up, tremors still running through your fingers as you wrapped them around his hand over your mouth.
For a quick moment, he softened. For a moment he saw the loneliness in your eyes and lost his ability to counter with something sharp and dismissive. For a minute, he just let you touch him. Let you sink into each other's flesh, let the water drip from his curls across your cheeks as his brows relaxed, as his eyes lost their sharpness and let you take solace in their red depths.
And then his jaw tensed and he smirked.
"I suppose I owe Gale thanks after all, if he's the one shaping you into the pretty little magician warrior we all need - takes quite the load off of myself."
You pulled his hand from your face and shoved him off of you.
"You should warn him though, that you're prone to fits of indomitable rage - I quite enjoy our little tiffs, but I don't think he'll be strong enough to handle you -"
"That won't happen again," you whispered, turning from him as you covered your bare chest against your arms.
"Are you sure about that?" He whispered, tracing his fingers delicately up your arm as he leaned his face against your skin, pulled away your wet blanket of hair and licked across the flesh wounds he'd left from his teeth. "Did you not promise me your fealty?"
Had he not promised you his?
You flinched away from him, nails biting against the softness of your dirty palms.
"That I could defile, violate, and deny you your tithe," he hummed, ghosting his lips across your skin again.
"You don't want me," your words sank through your locked teeth. "You need me and what I promised is that you have me regardless, we don't need to keep playing the game, Astarion."
"Perhaps I was a bit short-tempered when I said all that," he said almost thoughtfully. "Now though, that it's all out in the open, I can't help but wonder if the game will be that much more fun. I owe you nothing and you owe me nothing but mutual assured survival, yes? No thoughts," he tapped your temple gently, "no feelings," he tapped the hollow of your collarbones, "and no expectations," he whispered then, gently touching your chin to turn your lips towards his before he kissed you deep and affectionately.
And just as you began to melt, he laughed and pulled back with a wry smile.
"Fuck you," you breathed. How many ways could he shatter your heart?
"I have, I will, and I could again," he mused. "But the next time you call me a bastard, you better be willing to say it with your chest and not your sweet little heart, otherwise I'll have to make you mean it." As your lips drew around hateful words, he grinned deeper and his eyes grew darker, "You wouldn't say no to that either though, would you?"
"Fine," you spit, turning away from him as you began to stand up. "No thoughts, no feelings, no expectations." You looked down at him from over your shoulder, seething to hide the pain that was swelling within your heart as he lounged back, staring up at you with smug delight plastered across his face. "But the moment Cazador is dead, the moment we're free from the tadpole, I never," but you stopped, looking away. You never wanted to see him again? That wasn't true. It was painfully swollen with falsehood, but gods you wished it was true. You wished you were strong enough to say it. "Once this is over, there will be no anything."
"Hmm, fine, deal," he shrugged, but just as you went to leave, he grabbed your ankle. "You're naked, darling, and as much of a snack as you are, I know you a bit better than to let you expose yourself to the rest of our companions."
"Godsdammit," you hissed. You just wanted to walk away from him. It was humiliating to be around him - the shame burned bright and loud across your skin and through your chest and he was eating it up the same way you let him drink of your blood.
"Settle down now, wouldn't want to flood the Underdark with your pouting, now would we?"
Your jaw ground against your teeth and let out an exasperated sigh, turning around to him, "Will you go grab my clothes then?"
He rolled his eyes at you and just laid back, grabbing a book and pressed one hand behind his head.
"Astarion -"
"Just lay down, one night with a tent over your head will not ruin your mystique."
You stood there, the pouting he spoke of growing volatile against your flattened lips - but he was inviting you to stay and you were nothing but pathetic. You let your bitter words crumble into a groan and sunk back to the ground, curling around yourself and away from him as you stole a pillow from his side. He tossed a blanket at you and you grabbed at it without turning back to face him, covering yourself up.
"Good girl," he snickered.
"Fuck. You."
"In due time, darling," he murmured, as if he was already lost in his book and had forgotten you were there.
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Chapter 30 of Despite Everything!
Thanks to my two loyal readers for getting me here 🥹
drop a black heart if you stop by on Ao3, it's a good time over there. 🖤
On their way to the Underdark, Calypso and her companions rest topside after battling the creche. Calyspo finds herself alone, but you're never really alone when your past refuses to stop haunting you.
under 1k words - durge x alfira (canon alfira storyline, post tiefling party) - post fight and accidental confession from Astarion after monastery mishap.
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You'd all decided to make a makeshift camp deep into the night before finishing your journey back to the Underdark. You were relishing the stary skyscape with what little was left within you capable of enjoyment after the day you'd had, finding yourself a soft hill to seclude yourself to. You'd lost Lae'zel's trust. You'd lost Astarion - if you'd ever had him to begin with. The muscles across your face fell slack against a grimace; you just wanted to close your eyes, to pretend that this day hadn't gone so miserably wrong, to rest for fucks sake and hope that maybe you'd wake up and everything would go back to the way it was, but you knew resting was not an option either.
You felt tears prickle across the edges of your eyes and you rolled them up, trying to flood them to the back of your sockets so they couldn't escape.
As miserable, as forsaken, as broken as you felt in the wake of your argument and his confession, you didn't want to cry about it. You wanted to make sense of it. You needed to give purpose to the aching caverns of your mind that, since the day you woke up anew, had only been salved by his voice and presence.
You'd tried to protect yourself at one point, hadn't you?
You thought back to that drunken night where you'd decided that even if he left you for dead, being near him at all was worth the risk.
You hadn't calculated that he would get tired of you. That he would be made to feel you a burden.
You covered your mouth, chewing down a sound of pained frustration, fingers gripping into the softness of your cheeks like it was punishing you for being upset. You did this, remember? You chose him against all the warning signs and still you let those butterflies breed - let the caterpillars mutate from chrysalis to winged creature within you and fill you with the weightlessness only affection could manifest.
And now you felt so brutally baren and heavy you could hardly stand it.
But you had to. All of it was your lot to grin and bear.
You sat up, rocking yourself where you sat as you followed the stars.
You found her, the woman warrior, cresting high against the sky as she engaged in battle with the centaur that was beginning its descent towards the opposite side of the horizon.
The night was drawing to a close - soon the hell of this day would be over.
Your stomach twisted as your mind rounded the question yet again - how do you fix this?
There was no fixing it though - he didn't care for you. You could not make him care. You could not gift him butterflies or constellations or heart tipped arrows to pierce his distant heart - he did not want you. He just needed you.
Your lip quivered as you finally fell still, letting your eyes drop from the stars and your chin rest against your arms as your fingers dug into your knees. You needed him too though, just in a very different way than he would ever want to give you willingly.
It made you feel filthy.
What had you done to make him feel that way though? Like he had to pretend? Like he had to lie and fill you with devotion for you to want to help him? For you to want him at all?
He had never wanted you - it was never about that.
He saw you for what you were, from the beginning. Even when you couldn't recognize the monster within yourself, he could place it and knew it would be something that could grant him a chance at freedom. He needed you and you availed yourself to him so pathetically that the only way he felt he could get your help was for him to seduce you.
You'd done this, hadn't you? He'd tried to push you away - he'd left after taking you those first few times and your sappy little heart probably pushed him over the edge with its need for more. You cornered him with your empty mind and begged him to stay by never quite letting him walk too far away.
Oh gods, you'd done this, hadn't you?
Just as you'd filled Lae'zel with trust and then crushed her wishes beneath your heel in front of her moment after moment when you didn't feel they served you, you'd done the same to Astarion, hadn't you?
No. No.
You gripped the crown of your head, rocking back and forth once more as you tried to turn your incessant thoughts off.
You hadn't meant to hurt anyone. You hadn't meant to take advantage.
"It's just what you do."
Your lashes fluttered over your eyes as you saw her in the peripheral of your vision, a ghost across the midnight blue horizon that did not blur into the foliage, but contrast brightly against its unnatural existence. You gripped deeper into your hair until the ache began to spread across your scalp.
"No," you whispered. "I don't mean to."
"That doesn't mean it isn't your nature despite that."
"I am not evil," you breathed, looking up at her with round, hopeless eyes.
Around an empty socket, her brow rose slightly. "Then what am I proof of, Calypso?"
You could hear the voice of your companions all wrapped around the sound of your name as she spoke it.
You squeezed your eyes shut, tucking your head into your knees as you wrapped your arms around your skull, trying to become as small as possible. "I don't know, I don't know, I don't know."
"You best hope you figure it out before the rest of them do."
Finally, a quiet sob broke through your chest, stifled against your knee.
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Opening of Chapter 29 of Despite Everything
If you'd like to see more of Alfira's reappearance, Chapters 25 - 28 follow the crew through the Creche and Alfira follows Calypso - and as expected, shit gets real messy.
Very excited for her presence in this narrative and to expand upon WHY this is happening much later into Act 3 😍🖤
Calypso is in deep - Lae'zel despises Calypso for what happened at the creche, Astarion and her haven't spoken since their fight after what happened at the creche, and she is desperately trying to hold onto the idea that despite everything, she's the good guy, right?
Lucky for her, a certain wizard is oblivious to the depth of her dismay and seeks to cheer her up with a lesson in magic.
4k words - Professor Gale - flirting as distraction - durge x gale besties (the flirting aside lol)
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Do you hear? A new harmony. Serenity. He bent slightly, tilting his giant head to be eye to eye with you, taking your breath away as you gazed into the green eyes of the creature. His slim arm rose from his side, fungus fingers splaying open in a strange gentleness as they framed your face. Your eyes fluttered shut almost on impulse - to be touched gently was all you'd ever yearned for. As a song filled the spores, strange like tuning forks or chimes, you felt the rally of his named serenity waft from creature to creature and stir across the air in a fragrant burst of thanks. I name you: Peace-Bringer.
Your heart clenched, your lip trembling as you finally looked back at him as he rose up. There was no smile, no expression, but the essence of his monotoned voice showed you a gratefulness all the same. Freely you have given to us. Freely you may take. But now that I have seen the capability of your Circle, there is another boon I must ask of you. You have cut out the duegar blight - but not its source.
Across the spores and into your mind's eyes, Spaw shared an image of a drow man striding across dead myconids. Nere, this one is called. He hunted us - hunt him in turn. Bring me his head, and I will know my Circle is safe.
"I'm more than happy to kill this - whoever he is, but tell me there's something in it for us." Astarion's voice broke across the chiming of the spore's song like shattered glass and your brows narrowed, a dark thought twinging between the folds of your thoughts as you glared at him from the corner of your eyes - of course he's only interested in helping if he can collect his personal dues.
I ask a boon, and I will give one in return.
"I'll bring you Nere's head," your voice cut back smooth and sharp. You could see Astarion roll his eyes and it grated you further. It annoyed you because you didn't want to be angry at him - it annoyed you to think such a depraved thought about someone you cared about - it annoyed you because like a violent flash of lightening, you suddenly wondered if the thought was true. How many ways could you ignore his own words before you started listening? It was always about what he could gain, never about right or wrong.
The drow waits in the ruins beyond the lake. Bring him death and return.
You nodded, turning from the Sovereign without a word to your allies.
"Calypso," Gale called your name as he hurried after you. "Might we think this through?"
"Where there's a head needing taken, there's a silly, idiot girl who wishes to take it," you grumbled.
"I'm sensing this might not be about the myconids -"
"It is," you cut Gale off, blinking the consuming anger from your eyes as you slowed down to let him catch up with you. "If I can help them, if I can do something right, I have to."
Gale's warm eyes caught yours in concern and you blushed, looking away as the others began to gather. "Nere likely has to do with the cult. The duegar that invaded them were part of the cult, it's likely Nere is just another drow being used to orchestrate the cults moves for the Chosen. It leads us one step closer to Moonrise -"
"I agree," Gale interjected delicately, offering you a sloped grin as he looked to the others for backup before patting your shoulders in an awkward effort to still your conjecture, "but perhaps before we storm a sect of the cult in the name of fungal justice, we consider resting and gathering resources after what we've just faced?"
Your eyes flickered across the others, Wyll nodding and Karlach shrugging with a grin, ready for whatever adventure came next.
"Being as though I died and you almost died the last time we faced off with them -"
"She's always almost dying," Astarion muttered.
"We should plan accordingly and not rush into anything. It's not as if they'll disappear overnight," Shadowheart finished her suggestion, giving Astarion a confused glance.
Lae'zel's eyes were cold and apathetic as they watched you - watched you listen to the party's concern and take heed their warnings.
"Fine," you said quickly, turning from them before the trembling could find its way to your lips, "I'm going for a walk."
"Might I accompany you?" Gale's voice caught up to your swift stride seconds later.
"I don't feel like company worth keeping," you returned in a whisper, eyes locked forward.
"Lucky for you I don't feel that way in the slightest." His voice was chipper and insistent, but it did little to brighten your mood, so you returned him nothing. Your stomach twisted, acid sloshing around Lae'zel's distaste and Astarion's cold nature. "So, a rather brisk walk it is," he anecdotally huffed as he kept your swift pace. "All for the better, it's not as if we've had any strenuous treks across vast stretches of land recently -"
"You can turn around," you offered.
"Ahh, I see you must not know that wizards often require long, brooding treks or else they'll lose their limbs entirely to the overabundance of knowledge within their handsome minds - and a walking, talking brain is just simply not the look I'm going for since our encounters with those intellect devourers scavenging the nautiloid."
A grin cracked against the frustration on your lips. "I'm surprised, Gale of Waterdeep, that you wouldn't be inclined to ensure everyone saw you for your most prized physical member."
"That's the beauty of a swift tongue," he winked and clicked his tongue for punctuation, having pulled your stride slower without you realizing it, "the moment someone hears me speak they couldn't possibly mistake the massive organ with which I withhold from the public eye for being anything less than well endowed."
You choked, covering your mouth as you stopped mid stride to bend over in a fit of obnoxious giggles.
"Oh thank the gods," he gasped, voice dropping low from his higher pitched analytically teasing tone to an exhausted rumble, leaning against his knees as he caught his breath, crackling into a weary chuckle himself as you only laughed harder at him.
"You are both the grandest idiot, and the silliest genius there has ever been, you know that?"
He gave you an opened mouth grin as he flung himself upright, brushing his hair back from his forehead as his eyes held yours. "Said with adoration?"
"Said with adoration," you confirmed in a nod, feeling the tightness of your smile flinch against your cheeks as they found it hard to maintain such a shape. Your lips fell a touch and you looked away, trying to pry your entire face into a pleasing state though all it wanted to do was fall completely. "Thanks for making me laugh," you smiled, still avoiding his eyes as you kicked your foot forward and began to walk again.
"It's one of my favorite things to conjure," he returned softly, drawing your eyes to his over your shoulder as a blush strung across your cheeks and nose. The blush stung, unwelcomed and untrusted, souring your stomach further. It wasn't Gale's fault of course, but fault or not it couldn't stop your bodily rejection of affection. "Do you want to talk about it?"
You'd done a shit job at hiding your feelings though, as usual.
"No," you murmured.
"Would you like to be distracted?"
You didn't stop walking, but the invitation was welcomed as you pondered the opportunity. You'd like a distraction more than anything. "What do you have in mind?"
"I have a few ideas in this big, handsome brain of mine, actually," he proclaimed rather proudly, pulling you into a standstill once more as you smiled begrudgingly.
"Alright, wizard," you teased, turning on him. "I'm open to ideas but only if they're as equally big and handsome."
"That may be quite the challenge, but I'm up to it." He looked up in thought as he rubbed the hair across his chin, you knew though he was performing for your sake and already had his ideas at the ready. "Let's leave a bit up to fate. Choose a number one through three."
"Um. . . two?"
"Hmm, fair choice. I would have been more inclined to three myself, though one would have piqued my curiosity further - yet you dive into the unknown and unnamed, I see your game," he narrowed his eyes approvingly, as if there had been any strategy to your choice at all and you couldn't help the eye roll that possessed you. "Yes, I see your game and I counter you another," his voice had dropped into a husky mischief just before he plopped to the ground.
"What are you doing?"
"Do not question until I've set us up, it'll be all the more confusing without the visual to accompany the task." He gestured across from himself for you to sit as well, to which you obliged. The cool, damp ground sated the heat from your skin that had been collected for hours and watching him drew a calm through the rest of your body. He centered himself, back straight as his eyes slowly filled with a purple glow, hands swirling in front of his body as he murmured some unrecognizable incantations before finally the purple spilled out from his eyes to his fingers and began to materialize between you.
"I give you the game of lanceboard."
Between you was a purple visage of a checkered board, lined up on either side was a collection of little figures. You leaned over to examine them further, seeing a tiny, bearded figure, horses, and a pretty woman among them. You reached forward to touch the woman, but Gale made a cheeky noise at the back of his throat that stopped you.
"Nope, Calisham rules with a twist - no touching at all. We do this with our minds and magic alone."
You stared up at his amused expression from your hunched over stature before slowly rising to the challenge. "You do know I have no idea what I'm looking at, right?" Your question spoke to your incompetence, but your tone was daring and willing to best him despite.
"You couldn't ask for a better teacher," he claimed as he puffed up his chest. Easily, as purple wisps flickered across his pupils, each piece lifted and he explained their purpose and movement patterns. "... Your most important piece is your king, or in our case, the famed wizard Elminster. You must protect your wizard at all costs or your game is lost. And finally, you have your queen. She is your most powerful piece, as she combines the moves of your bishops and rooks. She's a vixen that ought to be feared on a lanceboard or otherwise." As he spoke and she lifted, you watched extra whisks of magic aura spark and feather around her piece as well as a softness overtake his features.
"And in our case?"
"And in our case, she is Mystra," he nodded, not breaking his awed eyes from her piece as he spoke.
"Is it possible to win without your queen?"
He chuckled, lowering the piece back down within his mind before returning a mused glance back towards you. "I suppose, but it would be a choice of ignorance to not use your greatest advantage."
You nodded, fully prepared to destroy Gale without using the stupid Mystra figure.
However, he was an incredible opponent - or perhaps you were a very weak and unskilled one. At first, Gale would decimate your side of the board in just a few turns - and then he'd call out his win three steps before he achieved it based on your placement of the pieces - all the while you were beginning to sweat as the pieces grew more challenging to move with your wobbling mind. Had you ever concentrated on your magic for so long? It felt exhaustive and the lack of sleep was doing nothing to help you, but every time you watched him use his queen to destroy you, you grew a bit more bitter and driven.
"So, Gale of Waterdeep," you winced, your voice sounding worn as you felt a drop of sweat curve across your brow, "did your mother name your prestige or did you do that yourself?"
He chuckled, eyes drifting up to take in your worn face as he sat opposed to you perfectly tranquil and relaxed. "No, I felt Gale Dekarios was a bit of a mouthful and Gale of Waterdeep felt as though it swirled from the tongue - really landed the whole wizarding prodigy thing."
"Mr. Dekarios, Gale Dekarios," you murmured his name softly as your eyes scaled the board, trying to anticipate the opening as your queen laid dormant. "I don't know, it's a handsome name for a handsome brain. It seems your mother might feel a bit wronged you didn't keep your title."
"Oh, uh," he laughed a bit uneasily then and you could barely see the blush twitch across his cheeks as you said the word 'handsome', but your tactic was working. "My mother is happy with whatever name I go by, so long as I'm happy. It's Tara really, my tressym, who prefers the formality. I hardly think of the name myself anymore."
"It's a shame. Dekarios carries such mystery, such finesse, like you handle the things you value with a fine touch. Gale of Waterdeep, as I know him, seems a bit clumsy."
A short gasp pulled from his chest in offense and you were careful to keep the smile from your lips as you held his gaze steady while you painstakingly focused on moving your bishop to surround his king. "I'll have you know my hands are as skilled as my magic."
"Is that so, Mr. Dekarios?" You purred his name and watched this face blanch as he looked from you to the board and back again, moving a pawn swiftly with little thought.
"I - well yes, Ms. No Last Name," he attempted to chide you, but it was clear you'd frazzled him.
"Do you think Calypso requires another name? That it alone doesn't carry the weight of who I am?"
"I, well, no-"
"And what does my name invoke for you?" The question rolled slow off your tongue as you felt your neck cramping, like the magic had begun to harden in your skull like a frozen joint.
"I, I think it," he cleared his throat, shifting where he sat as he purposefully sank his voice down an octave to a more relaxed tone within his register. "I think it fitting. You may not know this, but your namesake is akin of a great mage who once was. He escaped death itself for the sake of his love, creating a plague to feast upon those who dared harm the ones he cared about."
The story warmed your heart, but your rebuttal flowed swift as you closed in another pawn. "So I remind you of a man?"
"No! Gods, no, you are very much a woman - a lady, a fine, um, beautiful lady, not reminiscent of man -" You raised your brow and without looking, he moved a pawn. "Unless you wish to invoke masculinity, I have no qualms with that, of course." You raised your other brow, trying to resist the urge to pant against the mental strain as you moved another bishop closer to his king. "As you are is wonderful - perfect even!" He laughed nervously, eyes dancing across yours as he tried to find any indication he was babbling the right direction. "You know my interests lie within the mind anyway -"
"I am nothing to you but a brain?"
"Oh no, I mean, yes? Um," he wheezed, grabbing the neck of his robe as he sank back, rapidly trying to think through the right answer. "I'm usually better at this."
"Lanceboard?"
"No, speaking -"
"Checkmate, Dekarios," you cut him off as a sly, yet wavering smile crawled up your face as you levitated his king in front of his face.
His face fell blank as he stared at the piece and then past it back at you, a slow smile curling up his face before he laughed boisterously. "You little fox."
You burst out laughing with him through an exhausted sigh, your pieces all shaking where they sat as his king fell back against the board and you flopped over into your own lap. "Oh my gods, that was fucking exhausting." Your entire mind fizzled and ached, sweat dripped down your brow and your muscles even felt overworked, like if you tried to walk you'd wobble where you stood. "I thought you wanted to relax," you groaned, falling backwards against your back as you tried to catch your breath.
"You're not the only fox. I knew you wouldn't want to so I thought I might try and tire you out in guise of a relaxing game."
"Nothing about that was relaxing."
"But it was tactical, was it not?"
"Tactical?" You tilted your head up in confusion, seeing that he'd dispelled the board and was leaning on his hand that sat propped on his crossed legs.
"Have you ever concentrated on your magic that long?"
"Well, no -"
"Exactly. I know as you use it now, you don't usually hold your spells for more than a minute or two in length maximum, but perhaps if we keep practicing, you'll be more inclined to use spells that require greater lengths of concentration."
You flopped your head back down, unable to help your wry smile. "You can't help but teach, can you?"
"I suppose I can't," he chuckled.
"So, who's Tara?"
"I've not mentioned her yet, have I?"
"Don't tell me she's another goddess," you twitched yourself sideways to look at him and he shook his head. You patted the ground next to you, "I'm too tired to sit back up, come over here."
Gale obliged, scooting over to come lay next to you as you both stared up across the cavernous sky. "Tara is a tressym, not a goddess, though she carries herself as one. She's the only reason I've survived the last year - when I'd have given up on myself, she took it upon herself to find a solution. She's my oldest companion. It's actually quite a funny mishap of childish rebellion, how we met. When I was ten I wanted a kitten dearly - there had been a stray litter about the Academy's grounds, but my parents wouldn't allow it. Naturally, as a young boy might, I couldn't let this go. I'd set my sights on having a cat and with youthful passion that went unbridled mixed with the Weave's natural avail to my whims, I accidentally conjured Tara. Who is very much not a cat."
"How did you conjure not a cat when you wanted a cat?" Your eyes had been drawn to his profile by the sound of his voice, trailing his face and catching the mirthful sparkle of his eyes as he remembered his own story.
"Tressyms quite resemble a cat in all aspects except that they also bear wings much like an owl. The thing about that specific genre of beast however is that they are of a superior intelligence, even to us thinking mortals. So while I, as a boy, thought I'd found myself a pet, Tara, as a tressym, thought she'd found herself a pet."
You snickered, "She sounds really cool."
"Oh gods, you'd love her," he gushed, turning on his side to look at you. "She's as witty as she is swift but her compassion is quite something as well. She'd be proud I'd found myself in your company. I think she'd love you too."
You chewed down the smile at your lips, in equal parts your heart swelled at his words as it shuddered from them. Love. Could someone or something really love you? "I'm glad you think so," you whispered.
"When your brain is this grand, this handsome," he teased, stroking his forehead for a dramatic flare that made you laugh, "you do not think, you simply know." He stared at you, dark eyes round and open as he seemed pleased to simply watch the laughter spring across your features. "What was it you wished to tell me later when we were amongst the myconids?"
"Oh," you'd almost forgotten. You turned completely towards him now, propping your head up on your arm, your long, disheveled braid coiling across the ground. "There's a mind flayer there -"
"What?" He propped himself up swiftly with round eyes, nearly jumping up to run back to where you'd come from, but in confusion he just looked over his shoulder and back at you, impatiently waiting further explanation.
"Yeah - yeah, I know, calm your orb, Dekarios. His name's Omeluum -"
"It has a name?"
"Exactly. He offered me help, if I wanted, to try and commune with my tadpole -"
"And for godssake you denied him that, right?"
"Yes," you laughed in exasperation. "But. . . he didn't seem connected to the hive mind. He seemed of his own mind, he claimed he was even working on finding an alternative to eating brains. He works for something called the Society of Brilliance and reconfirmed everything we've already found out about our specific breed of tadpole. It was just. . . odd. I didn't think mind flayers could act out of compassion."
"They can't. When one transforms into an illithid, they lose their humanity entirely - that being said, I don't know how many rogue illithid's have really been studied, but a core value of humanity is compassion. Illithid's operate on ambition and power, so I suppose without the hive mind's direction, that could turn into an insatiable interest in dietary alternatives, but I would have to guess it is not out of compassion for the food they consume, but out of a passion to fit more easily in with the rest of society for their own safety. What a fascinating concept."
You pondered his answer, "Is that so bad though? To wish to act against your nature for the sake of fitting in better? To secure your autonomy?"
"A fascinating question," he murmured, brow raised at his stared past you in thought. "I suppose not, however that question grows larger when you consider the possibility of fallout. Say this Omeluum becomes welcomed into society due to his innovations in illithid dietary restrictions, that he is no longer feared because he is not perceived a threat - and then more illithid's follow. Do we hold them all to the standard of one or many? If an illithid wishes to revert back to their natural ways, begins to infect and corrupt because society no longer suspects them as an enemy, do we risk purging the one and forgiving the rest? Do we risk the might of a mind flayer against a society for the sake of upholding our own moral convictions?"
Your gut pinched.
Should you risk their lives for the sake of believing you wouldn't dare harm them, despite knowing you were quite capable of it?
"I don't know how to answer that," you returned in a hoarse whisper.
"Thankfully, we don't have to answer it. We have far grander problems on our horizon then theoretical rhetoric," he assured gently. You both laid there for a few silent moments before he pushed himself up and extended his hand. "Come on, let's go back to camp and I'll start something for lunch. It's a rather brilliant day when we can sit down for more than one meal, we best savor it."
You clasped his hand and let him haul you up. "Um, thank you, for everything."
He wrapped his arm around yours at the elbow, the act bringing a small grin to your lips as you watched a lightheartedness soften his features as he peeked at you from the corner of his eyes. "It's been ages since I've been able to play lanceboard - ages more since I've been bested by a novice. You may thank me, but you teach me something new nearly every day."
"Like that your brain is just so big it can't see past its own hubris?"
"Ahh, see that is a lesson I've been availed to for a very long time," he chuckled. "Surprisingly, in your presence, it does little to knock the hubris itself."
Sewers time. Gale... buddy... pretty sure any normal person would picture almost ANYTHING but grunging about in the sewers for their return home. 😂
Thanks for sharing, buddy.
Anyway we managed to find Petras's abandoned snack because we took a wrong turn trying to find the murder temple.
Are you looking for other snacks again. :( I fed you before we left camp.
Anyway if you follow her when she says she'll give the party a miss she walks. RIGHT THE FUCK. INTO THE SECTION OF THE SEWER. WHERE CAZADOR'S BASEMENT DOOR SPITS OUT.
Also now that I've read the Book of Hungers I wanna know who blasted this thing's head off because now I suspect it was at one point guarding that door.
Hey Astarion does this big batlike emblem mean anything to you? No comment? None at all? OK I guess we'll turn back then. (I know it's not accessible until you unlock it from the other side but you'd think he'd comment on the symbol which is above the door you DO use to get into the Palace the first time.)
Anyway finally went the right way to find the vendor outside of the Bhaal temple. Got new gear. Dyed said gear (the Drake General dye for anyone wondering).
Oh hell yeah. (Tastefully covering up Astarion's statue-wang.)
Now, a hard save before heading to the temple:
I am so refined and poised and definitely matured past middle school.
Astarion is so desperate to get rid of this clown. Buddy what did clowns DO to you??
This dude again...
I mean there seems to already be an abundance of skeletons...
Astarion looks unimpressed here.
Ah. Creepy.
I did try killing him here figuring he'd just come back and he just. Turned into a pile of gore. Whoops. Reload. XD
There's been lots of puddles of blood. Like, everywhere down here. Some of them were on stairs.
Astarion... buddy... that's really sad considering WHY you were celebrating. You know that's really sad, right? We have better than rats for you now.
Hi hello thank you for rooting for me I guess but what the fuck?
HI WHAT THE FUCK
"Oh good you're back please get your sister to shut the fuck up"
I will say Durge run makes Orin feel a LOT more pathetic instead of scary. skljghafjklghladfjk Finding out all the little petty shit she gets up to, in context, is just... oh my god.
