#daeran

[aquamarinemarie]

Hannibal Lecter: What became of your lamb, Clarice? Clarice Starling: They killed him.

No. Daeran ate him. The Count roasted him and then he ate him with some fava beans and a nice Chianti.

[yunessa]

A courtship starting with flowers

There's no Other eyes watching what is a clear not-courtship. Not at all .

You can see my WOTR story here or check out my other WOTR art here

Check out @chknhero for their wonderful art! CHkn is wonderful to commission. I can’t recommend them enough. They're a blast to work with!

[paraparadigm]

WIP Whenever

Trying to be a little bit more active than I've been, and tagged by the delightful @saltymaplesyrup and @mareenavee. I'm out of the Skyrim bucket for now, so I'm sorry this won't make much sense unless you're familiar with Pathfinder, but writing is writing, right? Still on Pathfinder WOTR here, with this fic that was going to be short, self-indulgent one-off, but I am incapable of doing short (though can do self-indulgent plenty). Tagging both back, and also @gilgamish and @archangelsunited and whoever would like self-tag. I am quietly writing into the back drawer until this is done, whenever that might be.

“About time,” Daeran proclaims from where he’s perched on what appears to be a crate of root vegetables in one of the citadel’s subterranean store rooms, this one in charge of supplying the kitchens. “What took so long?” The other denizens of the store room include one assassin, one succubus, and one Hellknight, also perched on various repurposed surfaces, except for the Hellknight who stands with his back to them, hands clasped behind him, and is apparently admiring logistics’ way of keeping track of supplies by pinning various dire messages to a notice board on the wall. Such as “LOW ON PEAS,” in all capitals, which Lem can read from as far as the storeroom’s entrance Seelah convoys her through. “Seelah. Commander,” Greybor greets them, with a quick glance diverted from stuffing his pipe. “Shut the door behind you.” “Is there a supply crisis of some sort?” Lem tries, and points her chin at the notice board. As soon as she was able to walk after tripping over Areelu’s lexical paradoxing—which outfitted her with a curse, judging by Ember’s witchy fix—Seelah mercilessly dragged her all the way down to the citadel’s basement with a “later, just hurry.” So here the two of them stand in the doorway, later or some such, amidst root vegetables and a dire deficit of peas. “My dearest muse, is this some kind of new dramatic fashion?” Daeran asks instead of answering, and cants his head to scrutinize her face. “What is that? Paint?” He cants his head the other way and squints, then his brows angle into a frown. “Were you crying blood?” Trouble takes this as his cue to give “LOW ON PEAS” his back and examine the other dire situation. His expression promptly monumentalizes to its granite aspect as he assays her. If he has a tell, it’s that he doesn’t have one, except where his eyes tighten a little, but other than that he evinces no evident alarm whatsoever. “Are you functional, Knight-Commander?” he queries in his dry workaday tone. Define functional, she doesn’t say, but since now is probably not the time to consider which specific functions he’s holding in mind, she shrugs. “I appear to be functioning as intended, yes,” she offers, then adds, just in case it needs disambiguating, “whatever that was. Why are we communing with root vegetables?”

[yunessa]

If you know then you know

[aquamarinemarie]

House Blorbo Update #1

Spring has officially come to an end and Daeran and Astarion continue to wage war over ping pong.

Heinrix was abducted by xenos; Tristian is being stalked by an obsessed co-worker; no one will share their blood with Astarion; Daeran was nearly killed by the dishwasher; and Solas continues to convert oxygen into carbon dioxide.

[eugalus]

Neta Vampire Dance😱 I felt that Daeran was very suitable, so I drew this.

Excerpt from a paragraph that I like to listen to ⬇️

[yunessa]

Based off their camp dialogue. They really do feel like a older and younger sibling to me.

You can see my WOTR story here or check out my other WOTR art here

Check out @greyallison for her wonderful art! She's a delight to commission and wonderful to work with! I can’t recommend her enough. Check out her kofi

[aquamarinemarie]

Dr. Arendae to the Rescue

Behold! A bit of treasured advice from our most compassionate hedgehog, the one and only, Dr. Daeran Arendae.

Ember: "You're great at healing people. Maybe you could help out in an infirmary." Daeran: "Plumping pillows for wounded paladins is one thing, but constantly wading through the gore and stench? Not a chance."

So kind, so caring he is.

Daeran: "I say, I do believe your Bleaching has progressed since yesterday. As your healer, I'm prescribing a trip to the nearest brothel. The experience will add at least ten years to your life." Regill: "Naked people are of no interest to me. People faking desire for me — even less so."

Ironically enough, for Regill, this might actually be some good advice. After all he shouldn't neglect his gnomish needs.

Daeran: "Steady on, Daeran, they are perfectly ordinary mosquitos. They are not spreading disease. And they will not bite you on the face. They wouldn't dare!"

Daeran: "My dear Nenio, did you know that the best folk remedy for snoring is a pillow pressed to the face of the snorer? Give it a try tonight if you hear anyone start to snore." Nenio: "How very interesting, thank you for the tip! The next person to snore will be subject to immediate experimental healing! This will be fascinating!"

Uh-oh. I don't know about anyone else, but I sure wouldn't want to be the poor wretch waking up in the middle of the night having to fend off Nenio armed with a pillow... for science. (🦊+ pillow = 🪦)

And finally, last but certainly not least, to the utter dismay of some of your advisors (Irabeth), we have when Dr. Arendae decided to not-at-all-court the Commander by turning their newfound headquarters into a sweet smelling rosarium.

Daeran: "According to recent research conducted by Absalom scholars, the scent of roses reduces stress and fatigue, refreshes one's thoughts, and stimulates intellectual activity. So I only had the good of the crusades in mind when I placed these flowers here. My actions were entirely selfless and sincere. Commander: [Pluck a petal from the rose in Daeran's hands] "I can't wait to learn more... about the unique properties of roses." Daeran: "I shall be happy to share my knowledge. Someday, under more amenable circumstances."

Such a saint he is, our dear doctor. Thinking only of the good of the crusades. 🙏