#d&d iphigenia

[akindofmagictoo]

it's Iphigenia!! my lovely warlock, my bestest girl, having a terrible terrible time.

drawn by the amazing @codenameyan 💜💜

[akindofmagictoo]

Febuwhump day 28: breaking point

key characters: Iphigenia (D&D PC), Osvaldo, Terenzio and Elzerina (D&D NPCs)

summary: Iphigenia is kind. but if some fool makes the mistake of threatening her siblings, well... they get to learn the hard way just how much of a mistake this is.

(or: Iphigenia gets to be scary, as a treat. again, don't say i never give you nice things!)

warnings: threats, blood, bruises. minor whump (Terenzio and Elzerina are somewhere in their late teens).

length: 1700 words

tags for the angst fiends: @febuwhump @zmwrites @memento-morri-writes @isherwoodj @talesofsorrowandofruin

@kaatiba @dragon-swords-prophecies @zinabug-writes

other notes/references: i found House Thal on the Forbidden Realms Wiki; it's described as a “ruthless family angling for a seat on Waterdeep’s Council of Nobles”

WE DID IT! 28 DAYS OF FEBUWHUMP!!

The house is too quiet when she walks in. The twins are home, and Osvaldo should be as well, but she can’t hear their voices, or the sounds of laughter or running feet. There is no sign of servants in the foyer. No one greets her when she enters. Her house seems empty. A chill runs down her spine. Her magic ripples under her skin like a warmth rising to the surface, ready to be called upon. She takes one cautious step further in. Then another. Still silence but for the sound of her footfalls. It feels odd to break it, but she raises her voice and calls, “Osvaldo? Terenzio? Elzerina?” No one replies immediately, but she hears footsteps this time, drawing nearer. And then, finally, a voice, but it isn’t one she recognises. “Lady Iphigenia!” That is not her title; for a stranger, it is an inappropriate way to address her as a Lady and head of her house. But she allows the disrespect to wash over her, and waits for the speaker to continue. The figure that emerges into the room is a middle-aged man with shoulder-length grey hair and shrewd eyes behind wire-rimmed glasses. Lord Thal, a minor noble with whom she has had a few dealings. She believes he is affiliated with the ritual she disbanded a few nights ago, but is yet to find concrete proof of that. “Lord Thal,” Iphigenia replies politely. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” He smiles jovially and spreads his arms wide. “Welcome! We’ve been waiting for you.” We? There are many questions she wants to ask. It is difficult to form any of them. So she eyes him warily, waiting for him to continue.

Lord Thal snaps his fingers, looking towards the receiving room. What emerges is three figures, bound and gagged, escorted by a patchwork cluster of armed thugs. Three figures. A massive bruise is springing up around Osvaldo’s eye, but he grins despite the gag. The man beside him prods him in the back, and he kneels beside Lord Thal. Terenzio follows suit, but his eyes are wide with fear as he looks at her. Please help. Elzerina, instead, is carried to join her brothers. Her head lolls forward, and Iphigenia can see a smear of blood down her temple. The men holding her—Iphigenia recognises at least one of them from the ritual room—place her ungently beside Terenzio. Two men behind Osvaldo and Terenzio draw knives, placing one to each throat. Terenzio stiffens, his eyes widening even further. Osvaldo looks calmer, but Iphigenia recognises the flicker of a muscle twitching in his jaw. Anger flares in her gut. “What is this?” she demands. How dare this man enter her house, hurt her siblings, and then smile as he greets her? How dare he? He isn’t smiling anymore. A small mercy. He says, “Lady Iphigenia, if I’m not mistaken, you’ve been interfering in my affairs lately.” “Have I? I don’t believe we have spoken in weeks, Lord Thal.” “Oh, I think you know what I mean.” “I stopped the sacrifice of a child,” she replies evenly. “Are those your affairs? I’m disappointed in you.” “My people informed me you scared them away with a rather impressive light show. I must admit, I was surprised you, of all people, could intimidate them.” The spell she had cast could have killed every one of them where they stood, but she had chosen to let them live. She had hoped they might have learned a lesson. “If you do not fear me, then why have you gone after my family?” “You aren’t fearsome,” he scoffs. “But you are annoying. So you will stay out of my affairs, or I will find myself obliged to interfere in yours.” The knife against Terenzio’s throat tightens. A bead of blood spills down his skin and stains his collar. Iphigenia’s breath catches before she can stop it. And Lord Thal notices. He smiles. Terenzio’s eyes have not moved from Iphigenia, wide and desperate. Iphigenia’s own gaze keeps drifting to Elzerina, bloody and quiet in a heap on the floor. But she is breathing. Iphigenia forces herself to look back at Lord Thal. “I’m just glad we can properly establish… where we stand,” he says delicately. “Lord Thal,” says Iphigenia. “Yours is not the first cult I have disbanded. Do you know what the others call me?” She showed this group mercy the first time, because cruelty was not necessary. But justice is something else altogether. And she knows what she has to do. He frowns, caught off guard. “I beg your pardon?” She turns the question to his group of lackeys. “The rest of you. Do you know what they call me?” A few mutters and whispers, shuffling of feet, but no one will meet her eye. “I’m waiting,” she snaps. One of them mumbles, “The Avenging Angel.” “What?” says Lord Thal. “The Avenging Angel?” they repeat. Iphigenia nods. “They do indeed. Lord Thal, you misunderstand this situation. You are not threatening me into compliance.” The magic inside her is now crackling, eager to be let loose. “You are giving me something to avenge.” For a moment, he stares at her in silence. “So this is your final warning. Unhand my family and leave my house.” He laughs. Actually laughs. “Or what? I’m fascinated to know what you think you can do to me, dear.” Well, he has made his choice. Iphigenia lifts her arms, and the room erupts in light.

A cluster of winged spirits, little more than glowing orbs almost too bright to look at, surround Lord Thal and his lackeys, burning wherever they touch. Thal and his lackeys scream and stagger backwards; one of the knifemen retreats entirely, but the other’s blade nicks Osvaldo’s skin as he falls. Iphigenia splits off one of the spirits, then two more, one for each of her siblings. A drop of healing for each of them. The marks on Osvaldo’s and Terenzio’s throats seal up; Elzerina’s bruises retreat, and her eyelids begin to flutter. Iphigenia steps forward. Her wings unfurl behind her. Most of Lord Thal’s lackeys have died where they stood. The others are unconscious. She will mourn, later, that it had to come to this. For now, she has bigger priorities. Lord Thal has backed up against a wall, both his hands in the air. His face is patched with burns from the radiant fire of her Spirit Guardians. She approaches him. He flinches. “Do you understand now?” “Yes! I—” She is not interested in the rest of this. He can tell it to the Blackstaff. So with a flick of her wrist, she summons another burst of radiant fire that flares around him. His eyes roll back and he slides down the wall to crumple at her feet, his skin now red and blistering. She runs to her siblings, summoning her Mage Hand to work on Osvaldo’s bonds while she crouches behind Elzerina. The knots are tight, but rough. Osvaldo manages to wriggle free of his before Iphigenia finishes her task; he pulls the gag out of his mouth, follows suit with Terenzio’s, then sets to work on Terenzio’s wrists. “Are you alright?” says Iphigenia. “What did he do to you?” “Oh, this?” Osvaldo gestures at the bruise on his face. “I tried to punch one of them. They punched back.” “And Elzerina?” “She kept shouting at them,” says Terenzio, his face stark white. “They wanted to shut her up.” “I was right, though,” mumbles Elzerina dazedly. “I told them you were going to come kill them all for this.” Her bonds come free. Iphigenia gathers her little sister into her arms, and enfolds her wings around both of them, letting her healing magic flow into Elzerina. Elzerina’s eyes are still unfocused, but she continues, “You took your time, though.” “What do you mean?” The last of Terenzio’s bonds fall in pieces to the floor. Still pale and shaking, he says, “What if they’d decided to kill us while you were still talking?” Iphigenia opens her wings and holds out a hand. He hesitates, but takes it and sits down beside her, and she embraces him too. Osvaldo sits on her other side. Iphigenia looks directly at Terenzio. “The moment they drew blood, I knew they would pay. If their hands had so much as twitched again, I was ready to stop them. And if I had made a mistake…” She swallows. “That is what my healing magic is for.” “They were going to cut our throats,” he objects. “And that is the last thing I want to ever happen to you.” Her voice breaks as she says it. “But I learned to raise the dead when I was a teenager. There is nothing he could do to you that I cannot repair.” Terenzio opens his mouth to continue, then closes it again.

Iphigenia says, “Are you still hurt?” Terenzio shakes his head. Iphigenia glances to Osvaldo; a star frees itself from her wings and floats over to land on his bruised cheek. At its touch, the bruise fades, and he smiles. “So, what are you gonna do with dear Lord Thal over there?” “I’ll hand him over to the Blackstaff,” says Iphigenia. “She now has enough grounds to investigate him for cult activity, and I suspect she will find… many interesting things.” “Did you really break up a cult ritual?” says Elzerina. Her voice is steadier now, her eyes clear and focused. Iphigenia nods and helps her sit up. “I did. Lord Thal brought many of the same people today, in fact.” “You left them alive to come back?” “I gave them a chance to do something better with their lives,” says Iphigenia. “They spat in the face of my mercy.” She swallows. “And they were going to hurt you. So I did not give them another chance.” “Holy fuck,” mutters Elzerina. “You really are scary.” Osvaldo smiles proudly. “Thanks for saving us,” says Terenzio quietly. Iphigenia lets her wings fade away, and puts an arm around him. “I will never, ever, let anyone hurt you. If you find yourself in need of saving, then I will save you.”

[akindofmagictoo]

Febuwhump day 18: time loop

key characters: Osvaldo (D&D NPC), Iphigenia (D&D PC)

summary: well, they don't call this the Pit of Agony for nothing! what's the worst kind of vision for Osvaldo to be trapped in? watching his siblings suffer and die, over and over again, unable to save them.

so you know, that's basically a time loop

warnings: blood, gore/mutilation, murder, family violence. take care on this one gang, it's a companion to the most brutal piece i've ever written (that piece being Iphigenia's POV of her own murder)

length: 1776 words (1776 words of agony for Osvaldo, and also for me. oof. hope you enjoy.)

tags for the angst fiends: @febuwhump @zmwrites @memento-morri-writes @isherwoodj @talesofsorrowandofruin

@kaatiba @dragon-swords-prophecies

other notes/references: there are a few snippets of Iphigenia's POV of this under the tag "iphigenia donates blood" on my blog!

there are some other fun Easter eggs too, which i shall elaborate on if anyone's interested. mostly just fun/gut-wrenching campaign parallels :)

The corridors are dark and quiet. A soft light appears around the corner, and the shadows waver and retreat. Osvaldo has lost count of how many times he has watched this. Even once was too many. Just as he has endless times before, he watches silent, unseen, while his father leads Iphigenia further out into the corridor; Iphigenia asks, “What do you need, Father?” Father says, “You will understand soon,” then stops and turns to her, cradling her face in one hand. “It is difficult to explain. You simply must trust me.” From where Osvaldo stands, he can see Father’s other hand trace a sigil in the air, the faint shimmer of a spell he now knows is a charm. Iphigenia follows him quietly now, a lamb to the slaughter. She will follow him down into the dark of the crypt; Osvaldo can try to stay behind, but eventually he’ll blink and find himself there in the darkness, alone for a few seconds except for the smells of mildew and sulphur. For those few brief seconds, he will wish that something has changed, that she has broken free. And then the rune circle will burst into flames as Iphigenia screams; Father’s knife will drip red in the light as Iphigenia stumbles backwards, trying to find the words to ask what’s happening. Osvaldo wishes he knew. But it won’t help. Father will paralyse Iphigenia with a few arcane words so that he can keep working, her blood spattering to the floor while she stands as powerless as Osvaldo is, unable to even cry out. He’s learned he can turn away, but he can’t forget the sound of tearing flesh. He has every hitch of her breath memorised. Eventually, the spell will lose its hold on her. She will try to run, turning unknowingly right towards where Osvaldo stands watching, but she’ll pull up short at the edge of the flames. And that’s all Father needs to catch up to her and pull her back. With one hand, he covers her mouth and tips her head back. With the other, he draws the knife across her throat. There is so much blood. The other sound he can’t forget is the gurgle of blood in her mouth as she tries to speak. It can’t take her long to fall silent, but it seems to last an eternity as she gasps and chokes, lying in Father’s arms in a spreading pool of red. It doesn’t matter whether or not he watches, whether or not he tries to block the sounds from his mind. When Iphigenia finally falls silent, her eyes staring empty into the darkness, the fire begins to fade… and Osvaldo will find himself back here in this corridor, again and again. Watching his little sister slaughtered, with no way to save her, again and again. He can’t help it. He sobs at the thought. Father’s head snaps around. He frowns into the darkness. A wild kind of hope rears its head in Osvaldo’s chest. Father can hear him? He raises his voice, steps into the light, and yells, “Father!” Father’s brows draw together. “What the fuck are you doing?” “This doesn’t concern you. Go back to bed.” Osvaldo ignores that. “Leave her alone!” “Osvaldo?” says Iphigenia. “What’s wrong?” He turns to her, taking her by the shoulders as though that will help her hear him. “You have to get out of here.” She frowns, her eyes darting from him to Father. “Everything is fine,” she says. “Father’s right. Go back to bed.” “You have to get out of here,” he repeats. Father grabs him by the back of his shirt and pulls him backwards. His hands come free from Iphigenia’s shoulders, pulling her robe askew. “Go to bed.” He lets Osvaldo go; Osvaldo staggers at the sudden release. “No!” snaps Osvaldo. “You’re going to hurt her!” “What?” says Iphigenia. Osvaldo steadies himself and runs forward. He doesn’t know what he thinks he can do, but he has to try. A muscle twitches in Father’s jaw; he puts out a hand to catch Osvaldo. Osvaldo only gets a split second to see the flash of magic.

The next time he dies, he sees the horror on Iphigenia’s face as he falls. He hopes it’s enough to prompt her to run. Maybe this time will be the time she escapes.

Now he’s lost count of how many times he’s died. A flash of agony, his vision blurring red and then black and then nothing. At least it’s quick. It doesn’t seem fair.

From where Osvaldo stands, he can see Father’s other hand trace a sigil in the air, the faint shimmer of a spell he now knows is a charm. Iphigenia follows him quietly now, a lamb to the slaughter. Confrontation isn’t working. What else can he do? What would Iphigenia do? She’s always been smarter than he is. Well, he’s never been a good liar, but he summons all the tricks he knows and calls, “Father? Is that you? Why are you up so late?” “Go back to bed, Osvaldo,” snaps Father. “What did you say?” He backs up; Father can see further in the dark than he can, and he needs him to step away from Iphigenia. Father growls and begins to approach him. Osvaldo backs up further, deliberately angling himself to run into one of the nice vases in the corridor. They come all the way from the other side of the Sea of Fallen Stars, and are one of the most expensive treasures in the house. It shatters as easily as cheap porcelain. Father is moving faster now, his boots thundering across the floor. Osvaldo ducks around the corner; when Father passes the junction, he slips back out and takes off running back to Iphigenia. She is still standing where she was, her blue eyes wide with confusion. “You have to get out of here,” he tells her. “Father wants to hurt you. Come with me.” “No,” she says. “He just wants me to help him with a spell. Nothing’s going to hurt me.” “He is going to hurt you. We need to go. Please.” But she doesn’t seem to understand, and this time the flash of magic in his senses is a soft shimmer. This time, he follows his father just as willingly as Iphigenia, down a stone staircase and into the darkness of the crypt. For a moment, he sees nothing. All is quiet apart from a few scratching sounds, the scuff of feet on stone. Then the rune circle bursts into flames, and Iphigenia screams, and now he can see her backing away from Father, trying not to cry as she cradles her bleeding wrist. Osvaldo wants to run to her, but thin chains of red light snake up from the floor and wrap around his ankles, matching those that ensnare Iphigenia. And once again, he watches his sister die.

It doesn’t matter what he does. The one minute he can gain from distracting Father isn’t enough to break the charm on Iphigenia. So then either Father kills him, or charms him. It doesn’t matter. Iphigenia dies drowning in her own blood, and he can’t save her. It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter. But he has to try again.

And again.

From where Osvaldo stands, he can see Father’s other hand trace a sigil in the air, the faint shimmer of a spell he now knows is a charm. Iphigenia follows him quietly now, a lamb to the slaughter. He does know one thing that might break the charm spell. It always breaks when Father starts carving sigils into Iphigenia’s arm. Hurting her might snap her out of her charm… but he can’t do that. He can’t hurt her. Even if it might save her—and it might not even work. So instead he has to watch it happen, again.

And again. And again.

No. No, he has to try it. Nothing else has worked; he has to try something. He can hardly bear the thought of knowing he has been the one to cause her pain, but she will forgive him, surely. It will be a small price to pay knowing that she is free. If he can distract Father, he gains one minute. No more. The first time, a minute isn’t long enough for him to get up the courage to hurt her. Father’s footsteps echo in his hearing, and then it’s too late.

He has to try it. He has to. Father is moving faster now, his boots thundering across the floor. Osvaldo ducks around the corner; when Father passes the junction, he slips back out and takes off running back to Iphigenia. She is still standing where she was, her blue eyes wide with confusion. “I’m so sorry,” he whispers, and then he slaps her across the face. His hand stings. She stares at him, horrified, tears welling in her eyes. “What—” “He wants to hurt you. I’m so sorry. We have to go.” She blinks. A red mark blooms on her cheek, and it’s his fault, but her eyes are finally, finally clear as she looks at him. “He… he charmed me.” All he can manage is a nod. “Run.” And she does. She runs, and he follows. They duck through the servants’ tunnels that once upon a time they’d used to hide from the twins during games. They take as many false turns as they can find, until finally they emerge near Osvaldo’s room. She runs in, for once without insisting on getting his permission; he follows and slams the door behind him. Iphigenia is shaking, a sob building in her chest. He runs to her, takes her in his arms. She leans into him, and oh, it seems like forever since he’s held her. “He wanted to hurt me?” she says softly, her voice breaking.

“He said he wanted you to help with a spell, right?” She nods. Osvaldo swallows. “He was going to sacrifice you to make the spell work.” Iphigenia’s breath hitches. “What?” “Yeah. I don’t… I don’t know why. But I’m not going to let him hurt you,” he promises. “You’re safe. You’re safe.” She bursts into tears, shaking even harder. He pulls her closer, holds her steady. “You’re safe.” She has to be safe. She has to be, at least this time. He closes his eyes, leans his cheek against the top of her head, and swallows down his own sob. She needs him. There will be time later for him to cry.

The corridors are dark and quiet. A soft light appears around the corner, and the shadows waver and retreat.

[akindofmagictoo]

Febuwhump day 23: kintsugi

key characters: Irissa (D&D NPC), Iphigenia (D&D PC)

summary: through a couple of admin errors, Lord Cassalanter's summoning circle did not, as planned, summon a devil. instead, with Iphigenia bleeding out in it, it summoned a celestial

warnings: mentions of mutilation, murder

length: 366 words

tags for the angst fiends: @febuwhump @zmwrites @memento-morri-writes @isherwoodj @talesofsorrowandofruin

@kaatiba @dragon-swords-prophecies @zinabug-writes

other notes: this is another one of those "dubiously canon" scenes - some other stuff happened in here as well in canon, but this is pretty close!

You thought your daughter was dead, all these years, that she had died alongside your wife. At least they were together, you had told yourself. At least they had each other. And then tonight you heard your daughter calling for you, and you take the thread of magic and you follow it to the portal, holding on to the connection between you, waiting with bated breath to see what you will find on the other side… because what you heard her say was, “Save me.” You couldn’t save Selene, but there is very little else you cannot do, and you will do whatever is necessary to save your little girl. She is yours and that is all that matters.

Just before you emerge from the portal, you feel that connection go out. You were not fast enough to stop it.

She looks just like Selene. For a moment, you think she is Selene. The line of her jaw, the shape of her closed eyes, the curly brown hair spread out around her. But Selene always sparkled with the light of life (or maybe you just loved her so much). The girl at your feet is pale and limp and drenched in blood.

When you gather her into your arms, there is still a little warmth left in her. A glimmer of a soul not yet flown away to rest. A wild hope lurches inside you. You are not too late. You can still save her. But first you weep for what has been. You can’t help it. For all the time you lost with her. For what this man has done to her, the gashes that mark her arms and throat. Even trying to imagine what kind of agony that must be… it takes your breath away.

Your tears rain down like gold, and your healing magic follows before you even need to think about it. Gold pools into the gash across your daughter’s throat, filling it in, sealing it up. A soft flush of colour returns to her cheeks, chases the blue tint from her lips.

Her heart begins to beat again, and yours settles with it. Because you weren’t too late. Not this time.

[akindofmagictoo]

Febuwhump day 22: worse than death

key characters: Iphigenia (D&D PC), Terenzio and Elzerina (D&D NPCs)

summary: another one of Iphigenia's recurring nightmares :(

warnings: blood, mutilation, ritual sacrifice, minor whump (the twins are 9ish)

length: 332 words

tags for the angst fiends: @febuwhump @zmwrites @memento-morri-writes @isherwoodj @talesofsorrowandofruin

@kaatiba @dragon-swords-prophecies @zinabug-writes

Aquamarine braziers light the worked stone cavern. Iphigenia takes one cautious step in, then another. No one raises the alarm… no one says anything. There is no one here. Just her and the massive cavern, too long to see the other side in the darkness. But there is something here she needs to see. She keeps walking. On either side, strange stone creatures loom out of the shadows. One seems to move out of the corner of her eye, but when she looks back, it is just a stone pillar like all the others. She shakes herself and looks ahead. Just at the edge of her vision, a ring of chalk sigils, with something slumped inside. It isn’t conscious anymore. Her feet take over, leading her closer to the ring of sigils. These are Yellowcrest’s tunnels under Greenfast, she knows. She has been here before. Why is she here again? The spell ring is as she remembers it, arcane sigils interspersed with a few she does not recognise. And inside the circle, two people, slumped unmoving. Their skin has been slashed all over with runes. Dried blood cakes their ragged clothes. Their eyes stare blankly to the ceiling. Iphigenia blinks. Two people she knows. Elzerina lies on her side, curled up; if not for the marks carved into her skin, she would look like she were sleeping. Beside her, Terenzio’s face is frozen in terror, a streak of blood running down his cheek like a tear. Bile rises in Iphigenia’s throat. They should have been safe. How could Yellowcrest have— Yellowcrest is not here. No one is here. No one but her. She gasps. The sound echoes through the empty cavern, and the twins do not stir. She covers her mouth with her free hand. Something wet smears across her face. Her hand is wet. Her hand is… She pulls her hand away and looks down. Both her hands are smeared with something dark. And in her right hand, an ornate knife.

[akindofmagictoo]

wip acrostic tag game

an open tag from @memento-morri-writes!

my word is AFRAID, and i wanted to see if i could find this in Iphigenia donates blood :))

(i really need to come up with a proper title for this, don't i...)

A: A faint light in the room. A hand on her shoulder. A soft murmuring sound, too muffled to make out… no, that is a voice. There are words.

F: “Father.” She tries to keep her voice steady, but it breaks on the first syllable. Pain sears through her wrist. Beneath the red spilling over her skin, there is a rune or sigil of some kind. She cradles her arm to her chest. Blood pools in her elbow, soaking into her sleeve. “What are you doing?”

R: [didn't have it so here's a fun one with an R in there somewhere] The knife drips red.

A: At least her mouth no longer tastes of blood.

I: Instinctively, Iphigenia takes a step back and raises her hands in front of her, like she can hold back his magic or placate him somehow.

D: Darkness creeps into the edges of her vision. The sky high above her is dark and empty. Where are the stars? There should be stars. The fire of the circle is gone. She can’t breathe. Air. She needs air. 

she is having a very fine and normal 'bring your daughter to work day' :(

tagging @dragon-swords-prophecies @zinabug-writes @isherwoodj @teriwrites @reneesbooks @diphthongsfordays and anyone else who wants to play! your word is GARDEN

[akindofmagictoo]

Febuwhump day 27: "can you stay?"

key characters: Iphigenia (D&D PC)

summary: a follow-up to day 22, where none of Iphigenia's siblings are sleeping well. this one's heavy on the comfort. don't say i never give you nice things <3

warnings: none!

length: 619 words

tags for the angst fiends: @febuwhump @zmwrites @memento-morri-writes @isherwoodj @talesofsorrowandofruin

@kaatiba @dragon-swords-prophecies @zinabug-writes

And in her right hand, an ornate knife—

Iphigenia wakes with a start, trembling all over. A nightmare, she tells herself. Only a nightmare. The twins are safe; nothing can hurt them. The thought doesn’t stop her racing heart or the tears welling in her eyes. She gathers her blankets in her fists and begins to count, forcing herself to slow her breath. With it, her heart begins to settle. She sighs in frustration. She knows that healing takes time, but she can still wish it would happen faster. A knock at her door. She starts, her pulse picking up again. “Iphigenia?” Osvaldo’s voice is soft. “May I come in?” Despite herself, she has to smile. She gets out of bed to answer the door. He’s in his nightclothes too, and a soft robe. At his small smile, she feels herself relax; she smiles back, watery and shaky, and wraps her arms around him. His arms go around her in return, warm and steady. “Are you okay? I heard you crying.” “Nightmare,” she says. “Why are you awake?” “I went to get a drink and heard you.” “Your room is between mine and the kitchens,” she says, the correction springing to her lips before she can stop it. He laughs, soft but bright. “Alright, you got me. You never sleep well this time of year.” He’s silent for a moment. “It’s not as bad, but neither do I.” She pulls back from his embrace to look up at him. There are shadows under his eyes. “How many nights have you come by my room just in case?” she says softly. “If I tell you, you’ll just feel more guilty.” His mouth quirks in a smile. “The walk helps, though, I promise.” She nods. He’s right; if she actually knew the answer to that, she would feel it was her fault somehow. But she’s glad he knows her so well. He kisses her on the forehead. “Are you ready to sleep yet? I don’t want to keep you up.” Falling asleep with someone else in the room is harder, but her pulse is still fluttering in her throat, and the tremor hasn’t left her hands yet. She shakes her head. “Can you stay?” He looks surprised, and she knows what he must be thinking, but he just nods. “Of course.” It also helps keep her from giving in to the urge to run and check on the twins. It takes her a few minutes to banish the thought, as Osvaldo talks about a market he went to last week. This was a dream, she knows that; the twins are safe, and no one is coming to hurt her either. As she has the thought, a soft, quick pattern of knocks sounds at the door. This time, it’s Terenzio’s voice outside. “Geni?” She leaps up to answer it, summoning her Dancing Lights around her, as easy as breathing. Outside the door, Terenzio holds his stuffed dragon, and Elzerina stands behind him, looking away. “Can you not sleep either?” says Iphigenia, smiling. They shake their heads in unison. “This is the place to be tonight, it seems,” jokes Osvaldo from behind her. “Iphigenia, can we turn your bed into a blanket fort?” Iphigenia turns to him, eyeing his cheeky grin and her four-poster bed behind him. It wouldn’t be difficult to add blankets and lights. A smile spreads across her face to match. “I think that would be a wonderful idea.”

Wrapped in blankets, with Osvaldo’s warm arm around her, holding a mug of hot chocolate and listening to Elzerina read one of her favourite stories, Iphigenia feels tears well in her eyes. I’m glad I am still here to experience this.

[akindofmagictoo]

Febuwhump day 6: soul bond

key characters: Iphigenia (D&D PC), Osvaldo (D&D NPC)

warnings: none

length: 105 words

tags for the angst fiends: @febuwhump @zmwrites @memento-morri-writes @isherwoodj @talesofsorrowandofruin

@kaatiba @dragon-swords-prophecies

other notes/references: this is an AU, and i am glad, because if this were canon then these two would be So Much Worse

We were always siblings, even though we might not share parents or blood. Our bond runs deeper now. The magic that raised your soul out of Hell was not mine, but it is the same magic that reawakened me from death, and it was my hand holding yours when we crossed over from Hell to home together, from death to life. Now, when your soul aches, so does mine. When you laugh, I feel your joy. When you cry, I feel your sadness heavy in my chest. And when I feel a phantom blade twist inside my gut, I know you are in terrible danger.