𝐑𝐎𝐓 / 𝐑𝐔𝐈𝐍 ;

i shall wash blood with blood to get rid of the defilement ! ––

[silksworn]

#SILKSWORN. my BLACK PLEASURE is named too explicit for a page, BUT THIS MENACE I PUT IN IT IS NOT ! you are legacy. you are mother, you are daughter, you are a gaping, cut throat. you are the vilified and the dearly beloathed, the dead hand cut from the body that still misses its phantom limb. you hear their blood rushing in your head, everywhere you go. why won't they stop singing? why won't they stop screaming?

a neutral evil aberrant mind sorcerer companion of bg iii. selective & mature & mutuals only. d&d lore & headacanons. not spoiler free ! triggering themes may be present. ( ensorcelled by lamia. 29. black. they/she. ) ⸻ under reconstruction & getting back into the groove of things! carrd. interest checker. headcanons. ask memes. visual. dividers.

[mvndrvke]

@silksworn gets a starter!

Ikaria and Iraestra have crossed paths plenty of times. Under the influence of the Absolute and both in Moonrise, it's not like they're strangers to each other. But there's an undertone of both wariness and familiarity as Ikaria approaches Iraestra now. They've both been freed of their tadpoles' control by this odd little group of adventurers, who have done what Ikaria thought impossible and killed Ketheric.

"Can't say I'm sad to see him go," Ikaria says, leaning against the pillar Iraestra stands beside. "Glad to see you free, sister."

[silksworn]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐎𝐏𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐆 of the Absolute's control lingers like corpse-stench. Bitter knowledge of how easily even SHE, proud daughter of Oblodra, was overwhelmed by the false god sits uneasily in her gullet. She looks upon the work she aided in and is glad only to see it fail because they thought to bar her from it.

"Only a man, in the end. It would be beneath us to meet our end with him." Would that she could bring Ketheric back from his god's grasp. Let him live once more, so that she may bring torment and ruin to him until the end of his days.

She picks through entrail and char for components, unbothered entirely by the gore. She looks to Ikaria, assessing the other woman and only a little surprised to see they have both survived the carnage.

"Will you continue this fight, now that freedom is ours, sister?" A probing question. Drow do not trust nor love one another, but allies are few. Sister, she calls her. Iraestra rolls the word around on her tongue before echoing it back.

[silksworn]

I have some chores to do this morning, BUT, I will be around today! As such, I would love to get some writing done! Like this post for a starter :) Length dictated by the whims of muse.

[silksworn]

❛ ⸻ 🕸️ ₊ ⊹ @withouthcpe | cont. from here

𝐀𝐒 𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐒𝐄 𝐀𝐒 her own words had been, Dinin's ring with truth. Her stubbornness in this matter borders on the obscene. Pride does not diminish fact: she would be more burden on the road than boon, and even more so in a fight. Even the hand she extends to take the proffered glass aches with the gesture, her grip weak for a precious moment that is almost her undoing. She would lack the dexterity needed for complex spell work, or the strength to swing the light blades never far from her person.

Frustration pounds a dull beat against her temples. Every hour the cult spreads its pestilence ⸻ ( the very same rot she aided in manufacturing ) ⸻ further. Fresh thralls from every corner of Faerûn strengthen the altered elderbrain to an extent likely unreached since the height of the illithid empire itself. The very doom of every thinking creature gluts unchecked by the work of her own hand, and still she is expected to sit and rest ?

"Nothing here befits a woman of my status," she states bitterly, but then lets the comment drop. She will not whine about her fortune in life, nor would he care to hear it. The urge to throw the glass in her hand is nearly overwhelming. Perhaps at Dinin's head, perhaps not. He is merely the closest target.

It is her paranoia that moves her to form a tendril of connection to him. A remedy from his hands could just as likely be a poison. It is natural that he would seek what he has always known, but Iraestra refuses to let that assumption of intent render her blind. Complacency kills as surely as any other weapon. For just as ingrained in the male as it is to listen to his betters, it is just as learned to seek the advantage, always.

She brushes through Dinin's surface thoughts with deft control, seeking the names of the ingredients he means to produce and their purpose each. Surprisingly, he truly means to aid her. Should she be grateful or think him a fool? The larger part of her unquiet comes from the barest hint of sentiment she reads from him. Damningly, a part of her echoes it. There is familiarity in the shape their relationship takes, if she were to admit to homesickness.

"We do not have time to waste on my recovery. Our enemies gather strength while I wallow here. Prepare it," she decides. She will not dissuade the buds of faith he has in her. "I must be well when we enter Moonrise Towers. My face is known there, my word will open many doors," it will be grating to pretend to be just another thrall, but she has practiced the arts of the mind for centuries. Between the power of the prism and her own wiles, she can cloak her intentions from even the most discerning of ' True Souls '. It is Ketheric's vigilant eye that concerns her more.

"You will need me as surely as we need the guide who will lead us deeper into the shadows."

[silksworn]

The intent was to make a Halsin-kisser but I fucked around and made a guardian so hot I kind of want to do something with him instead. And I fucking oop.

[silksworn]

to this day remains one of my favorite dressup games

[flowerytale]

Roelant Savery (1576–1639), Vase of Flowers in a Stone Niche (details)

[silksworn]

❛ ⸻ 🕸️ ₊ ⊹ @nuffsed | cont from here.

𝐀𝐍 𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐅𝐅𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐆𝐀𝐙𝐄 flicks placidly to the mess of dark spittle by her feet, then meanders slowly upwards to the huffing brute responsible. The body, so filled with fluids fouler than saliva, is intimately known to her. Corpses also carry few qualms about releasing their excrement, though usually with less vitriol carried behind the action.

His disdain, too, does not touch her. Being reviled is familiar, and thus rendered entirely mundane. Hatred is the birthright, mother, and legacy of any drow spewed and cradled by the sunless womb of Menzoberranzan. Its children glut themselves on loathing, weaned from the thin milk of slaves to suckle only on the poison of intrigue and murder. A young drow is quickly taught to navigate the careful chaos of her world, lest she make her family suffer the shame of her failure.

There are few uses for children who fail to learn the lesson.

Iraestra barely recalls that far-off childhood, only the strike of a disciplinarian's hand. For a brief moment she considers what she might have been without the ' switch ', and if she would conduct herself similarly. Shamelessly vulnerable, every emotion bared in spittle and gristle. A map drawn to soft-point: where to press, where to hurt, where to gut.

A grim prospect indeed. Her stomach turns at the thought.

"You remain yourself, do you not? Free to your whims and fear, and all the lovely vulgarities that plague you," her thinning patience shows only in a mild scowl before she bid herself erase the emotion from her face. "That you even recall you have a home to return to, let alone the desire to do so, is a kindness you have done precious little to afford. The thralls the fictitious Absolute and her masters have made do not enjoy the same luxury."

She steps past, unconcerned by the prospect of retaliation. The inclination to strike would be easy enough to pick free from the tumble of Logan's mind. "I can be even more generous yet, should you decide to cease your mewling."

[silksworn]

writing a sick thread for Irae, I’m coming to realize, is really funny because her immediate reaction to the offer of aid from another drow (without command given or clear expectation to) is “oh, so I’m going to be poisoned then.”

[silksworn]

❛ ⸻ 🕸️ ₊ ⊹ Iraestra as a Companion

greetings.

low approval. ' your open mouth catches flies. stop wasting my time. '

neutral. ' my attention is yours. do not squander it. '

high approval. ' come, let us speak privately. i would know your thoughts. '

romanced. ' you need not speak it: our minds are as one. '

dark urge. ' all i hear is your noise. what will quiet your mind ? '

on-click quotes.

' doom and death in our wake. '

' trust my rage. '

' to the bitter end. '

stealth.

' venorsh. '

' in the dark, we are known. '

' strike as one. '

lockpicking.

' you jest. '

' i am no common thief. '

' find another to do this. '

in combat.

' the Banshee howls for blood ! '

' i command you: fall ! '

' death will not be your end. ' ( summon undead )

' your will is weak. i will break it. ' ( used psionics )

' there is need of you yet. ' ( healed ally )

' a debt owed will be repaid. ' ( healed by ally )

' if we are allies, prove it! ' ( low health )

' no, not yet ! my work is not done. ' (downed )

rapid fire clicking.

' pox and curse upon you. '

' test me once more. '

' i will show you why house Oblodra was feared. '

requesting long rest.

' our enemies will give us no quarter. we must rest. '

looking into a mirror.

' cover it before i break it. '

' all i see is my mother's face ... it sickens me. '

' vanity does you no credit. '

romance specific.

' they will know my fury. ' ( partner down in combat )

' no! they cannot have you ! ' ( partner down in combat )

' let me be your balm. ' ( healing unconscious )

' you do not have leave to abandon me. ' ( reviving )

' for you, i will undo death's dark work. ' ( reviving )

' know me as i know you. ' ( click )

' come to me. ' ( click )

[silksworn]

Iraestra romance…sexy vulcan mind-melds…

[silksworn]

❛ ⸻ 🕸️ ₊ ⊹ Iraestra as a Companion

greetings.

low approval. ' your open mouth catches flies. stop wasting my time. '

neutral. ' my attention is yours. do not squander it. '

high approval. ' come, let us speak privately. i would know your thoughts. '

romanced. ' you need not speak it: our minds are as one. '

dark urge. ' all i hear is your noise. what will quiet your mind ? '

on-click quotes.

' doom and death in our wake. '

' trust my rage. '

' to the bitter end. '

stealth.

' venorsh. '

' in the dark, we are known. '

' strike as one. '

lockpicking.

' you jest. '

' i am no common thief. '

' find another to do this. '

in combat.

' the Banshee howls for blood ! '

' i command you: fall ! '

' death will not be your end. ' ( summon undead )

' your will is weak. i will break it. ' ( used psionics )

' there is need of you yet. ' ( healed ally )

' a debt owed will be repaid. ' ( healed by ally )

' if we are allies, prove it! ' ( low health )

' no, not yet ! my work is not done. ' (downed )

rapid fire clicking.

' pox and curse upon you. '

' test me once more. '

' i will show you why house Oblodra was feared. '

requesting long rest.

' our enemies will give us no quarter. we must rest. '

looking into a mirror.

' cover it before i break it. '

' all i see is my mother's face ... it sickens me. '

' vanity does you no credit. '

romance specific.

' they will know my fury. ' ( partner down in combat )

' no! they cannot have you ! ' ( partner down in combat )

' let me be your balm. ' ( healing unconscious )

' you do not have leave to abandon me. ' ( reviving )

' for you, i will undo death's dark work. ' ( reviving )

' know me as i know you. ' ( click )

' come to me. ' ( click )

[ohisms]

𝒀𝑶𝑼 𝑯𝑨𝑽𝑬 𝑵𝑶 𝑷𝑶𝑾𝑬𝑹 𝑶𝑽𝑬𝑹 𝑴𝑬 !    (   sentence  starters  originating  from  jim  henson’s  1986  film  ‘ labyrinth ’ .  )

❛  oh ,  it’s  not  fair !  ❜ ❛  well ,  don’t  stand  there  in  the  rain  -  come  on .  ❜ ❛  [ name ] ,  you’re  an  hour  late .  ❜ ❛  please ,  let me finish .  ❜ ❛  we  were  worried  about  you .  ❜ ❛  i  can’t  do  anything  right ,  can  i ?  ❜ ❛  you’d  better  hurry ,  or  you’re  gonna  be  late .  ❜ ❛  you  really  wanted  to  talk  to  me ,  didn’t  you ?  ❜ ❛  i  hate  you .  i  hate  you !  ❜ ❛  knock  it  off .  ❜ ❛  [ name ] ,  stop  it .  ❜ ❛  what’s  said  is  said .  ❜ ❛  i  didn’t  mean  it .  ❜ ❛  i’ve  brought  you  a  gift .  ❜ ❛  [ name ] ,  don’t  defy  me .  ❜ ❛  you’re  no  match  for  me .  ❜ ❛  turn  back  before  it’s  too  late .  ❜ ❛  such  a  pity .  ❜ ❛  time  is  short .  ❜ ❛  shows  what  you  know ,  doesn’t  it ?  ❜ ❛  you’re  horrible .  ❜ ❛  if  that’s  all  the  help  you’re  gonna  be ,  you  can  just  leave .  ❜ ❛  you  take  too  many  things  for  granted .  ❜ ❛  thanks  for  nothing ,  [ name ] .  ❜ ❛  things  aren’t  always  what  they  seem  in  this  place .  ❜ ❛  that’s  right ,  it’s  not  fair .  ❜ ❛  what  am  i  supposed  to  do ?  ❜ ❛  i  knew  you  were  going  to  get  into  trouble  as  soon  as  i  met  you .  ❜ ❛  oh ,  don’t  sound  so  smart .  ❜ ❛  why  are  you  so  concerned  about  me ?  ❜ ❛  what  do  we  have  here ?  ❜ ❛  what  a  nice  surprise .  ❜ ❛  how  can  i  believe  anything  you  say ?  ❜ ❛  what  choice  have  you  got ?  ❜ ❛  you’ve  gotta  understand  my  position ;  i’m  a  coward .  ❜ ❛  you  little  cheat  -  you  nasty  little  cheat !  ❜ ❛  give  those  back  to  me !  ❜ ❛  the  way  forwards  is  sometimes  the  way  back .  ❜ ❛  will  you  please  be  quiet ?!  ❜ ❛  it  seems  like  we’re  not  getting  anywhere .  ❜ ❛  you’re  the  only  friend  i’ve  got .  ❜ ❛  well ,  i’m  not  afraid .  ❜ ❛  i’m  used  to  it .  ❜ ❛  leave  me  alone !  ❜ ❛  please ,  i only have a little time left .  ❜ ❛  you’re  a  life  saver .  ❜ ❛  [ name ] ,  what  have  you  done ?  ❜ ❛  i’ll  be  there  for  you .  ❜ ❛  [ pronoun ]’ll  never  forgive  me .  ❜ ❛  it’s  all  junk !  ❜ ❛  i  don’t  see  why  we  have  to  be  so  quiet .  ❜ ❛  [ name ] ,  are  you  alright ?  ❜ ❛  i  don’t  care  what  you  think  of  me .  ❜ ❛  i  forgive  you ,  [ name ] .  ❜ ❛  i  have  to  do  this  alone .  ❜ ❛  everything  i’ve  done ,  i’ve  done  for  you .  ❜ ❛  i  move  the  stars  for  no  one .  ❜ ❛  i  have  been  generous  up  until  now .  ❜ ❛  what  have  you  done  that’s  generous ?  ❜ ❛  i  ask  for  so  little .  ❜ ❛  fear  me ,  love  me ,  do  as  i  say  &  i  will  be  your  slave .  ❜ ❛  you  have  no  power  over  me .  ❜

[kraniumet]

meet cute: it's raining and I see your battered bleeding body lying in the mud and I kick it slightly to see if you're dead

[silksworn]

❛ it is a black omen to journey in poor health. you will remain and well rest yourself. ❜

❛ ⸻ 🕸️ ₊ ⊹ @withouthcpe | 𝐍𝐎𝐒𝐅𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐔 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒

𝐅𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐋𝐓𝐘 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐇 is a mortal failing, the likes of which the sorceress pretends herself above. She is careful to avoid contagion, to pray properly to gird herself with an unholy vitality against harm. There is far too much work to be done for mere illness or injury to undo her.

And yet, fever now sets her aflame with what must be all the vigor of the nine hells. Her clothes stick with sweat that alternatively chills and heats her aching bones. She licks moisture from her upper lip in an attempt to parch her throat. A longing gaze flicks to the pitcher of water near her, but pride stills her. She does not trust her hands, they tremble so. Gods above and below forbid if she were to spill the glass on herself.

That same pride pushes her up into a sitting position, far less vulnerable should the other drow take offense to her weakness. The soft-bellied lot they travel with may be kind enough to let her rest, but drow do not coddle weakness; it is culled.

A foreboding not unlike fear creeps upon Iraestra like a thief in the night. She turns enough to hide the hand she slips beneath her pillow, fingering the rubied hilt - a precaution, for now. Despite the care another might read within Dinin's words, she cannot help but wonder. Would he be so bold as to take advantage of this obvious opportunity? Foolish, to be certain, as she is not completely without protections, but it would be difficult to defend herself as she is now.

Iraestra throws the male a glare (a wilted, wavering thing with how she stinks of sick), chin up despite the absurdity of the gesture. An attempt to grasp her slipping control with both hands. "As much as your concern -" doubtful, he is likely testing her, "touches me, that will not be necessary." Must even her voice croak? Curse the body that would betray her so! "There is no need. I will not hinder our progress," she persists.

Even as the words leave her, she feels the lie within.

[silksworn]

thanks to the influence of beloved friend Herbert I am now cobbling together a villain verse (I have way more familiarity with Marvel but am not opposed to DC muses)

[silksworn]

Vague idea I’ve been throwing around lately…a bg3 party hunting for a cure for their tadpoles, sometime early onish in act 2? Maybe in Balthazar’s study; they find alongside his inhumane research notes mention of another rival necromancer, who knows secrets of illithids and ceramorphosis that have been indispensable to their cause — as well as their resourcing of bodies, tadpoles, and connections in the Underdark.

Of course, Balthazar hated his fellow, as she did him. And he sought to dispose of her, one of the orchestrators of the new form of tadpole, in any way possible.

So an adventuring party wanting to learn more about their conditions and the overall fabric of the plot against them may find themselves in a race against time to rescue a certain wicked sorceress from her rival’s scheme before the clock strikes midnight…

Several thoughts on the nature of this danger, but she could be recruited by a party should they choose to rescue her!