brought to us by the incredible @bhaal-battle-beer-bard, thank you so much, darling! 🫶😘🥳🖤
Day 4: You put a SPELL on me – Your most favourite spell for them to use
reschedule due to tumblr blackout strike
(Imagine this being narrated like a nature documentary, preferably in the voice of David Attenborough)
But there is more to understand about our subject, Celeste.
Something fundamental. Something ancient.
The music shifts — a low, rumbling undertone
She is a draconic bloodline sorceress. And what this means, in practical terms, is that the power of dragons — creatures who ruled the skies millennia before her birth — runs through her veins.
A pause, heavy with significance
Not metaphorically.
Literally.
The narration grows warmer, more intense
This is not magic learned from dusty tomes. Not spells painstakingly memorized through years of study. No — this power is innate. Inherited. Written into her very essence, passed down through bloodlines so old their origins have faded into myth.
And she has a particular affinity. An elemental kinship.
A reverent whisper
Fire is her element. The dragon's breath made manifest through mortal flesh. Where a wizard might carefully construct a flame — a fireball — through precise incantation, Celeste simply... releases it.
The fire doesn't come from outside her.
It comes from within.
Quiet intensity
Ancient. Volatile. Magnificent.
The blood of dragons, burning just beneath her skin.
A shift — the music softens, becomes tender
And yet... there is another spell she favors. One that seems, at first glance, curiously at odds with her nature.
Dancing Lights.
Warmth floods the narration
Not for its tactical utility. Not for illumination in dark places.
No — for reasons far more... personal. Romantic, even.
Gentle, knowing
Here, the flames give way to something gentler. Softer orbs of light that dance and weave at her command.
Too Sweet || F!Resist Durge || Durgtash & GalexDurge
Note: This immediately follows my last Durge fic called Abandoned which you can read here. Warning, this includes some semi-spicy content, but like nothing too spicy because that's just not my forte, but I hope it's alright.
Anyway, what kind of interactions would you guys be interested in next? I've got several things planned so far, but I'm also open to ideas
Pairing: DurgexGale & DurgexEnver
Words: 4318
------
The door she’d opened into the back wall of Sharess’s Caress spit Feravel out onto the ground in more of a heap than she’d intended. Then she had been falling when she cast the door so being in one piece was a start. There had been a moment of fear when she wondered if the momentum of falling would pitch her off the scaffolding walkway, but she managed to steady herself before tumbling too far. Quickly righting herself, lest someone see her less than smooth escape from the archduke, Feravel took a few calming breaths.
“You were mine.”
It echoed in her mind bringing forth a whirl of images, but all passed too rapidly for her to grasp hold of anything tangible. Feravel rubbed her forehead trying to stave off the on coming headache. One day, she hoped this throbbing pain would fade. Maybe when she’d made enough new memories that the ones she lost no longer troubled her. Until then, she just had to carry on as best she could. Tucking her hands into her pockets, she began making her way back toward the lower city.
Slipping back in to her group’s shared quarters at the Elf Song was an easy feat. Though it was late, the tavern below still hummed with energy. There was plenty of noise to cover the click of the door and her footsteps once inside. A cursory glance around the room told her most of her companions were already asleep, but a few of them must still be down in the tavern enjoying the evening -judging by their empty beds. However, in front of the fire on the floor sat Gale slumped half against one of the armchairs with Scratch’s head resting on his knee. Next to him was a half empty bottle of wine and two glasses -only one of them had been used and still sat half full. Gale’s breaths were slow and deep, but she couldn’t imagine he was comfortable.
Had he been waiting for her? He was the one who’d said he needed time to think. She had only wanted to allow that for him by staying away.
As she looked at Gale’s peaceful face, she couldn’t help but wonder if she was Gale’s and if she was, did he still want her to be. They were together, loved each other surely and were forever bonded by that night in the weave when they'd shared everything -as well as the more physical evenings they’d shared together. Bonded was how Gale described their relationship though. It hadn’t occurred to her before that she wanted him to be hers or to be his in any official sense though. They were what they were. There was hardly much time on the road to worry about that sort of thing anyhow. Was it because they’d reached some civilization that she was thinking about it? Or was she now feeling insecure after the claim Gortash made?
“Mine.” Feravel whispered to herself.
Possessiveness ran through her as she uttered the word. Oddly, it made the urge sing in her blood just as surely as her heart did with happiness.
Scratch’s ear twitched at the sound of her voice and slowly he opened his eyes to gaze up at her. His tail wagged happily. Unfortunately, Scratch’s tail was in range of hitting Gale’s arm and before Feravel could make herself scarce the wizard was groggily opening his eyes as well. Instinctively she froze. She hadn’t a hope of escaping unseen when she was so close to him.
“What is it Scratch? Do you need out?” Gale asked the dog groggily.
The dog whined and nudged Gale’s hand in her direction. She shot the beast a look of pure betrayal -all the times she’d slipped him treats and rubbed his belly. Scratch just wagged his tail and Feravel felt certain he would’ve laughed at her if he could as he padded away. She’d remember that next time he came sniffing around her pack.
“Fera?” Gale murmured.
“Sorry! I didn’t mean to wake you. Well I sort of did, you looked really uncomfortable. I’d hate for you to have neck cramps tomorrow from sleeping all wonky. You know, when your bed is just over there…” She blurted out. “I’ll go…get some rest, Gale.”
It seemed to take a few seconds for Gale’s sleep addled mind to catch up with her hastened words. Feravel was already turning to make her escape, cheeks burning, when Gale stood and grabbed her by the hand. Halting mid step, she turned back hesitantly to face him.
“Don’t! Don’t go.” He said softly. “I was unnecessarily harsh with you this afternoon. It was unfair of me to hold you responsible for the actions of your past self -a self you can not even remember! Whatever sins you committed in the past; they’re not your’s -not the Feravel I know. After all, despite your dark urge, I've never known you to be the sort of person capable of such things -not of your own will. And who in the world would expect...betrayed in the eleventh hour of an evil plot isn’t usually the secret behind mysterious memory loss."
He paused a moment.
"I swore to help you find a way to free yourself from the urge and I stand by that. It was just, in that moment, I was -I was over come…”
Feravel opened her mouth to speak.
“Please, let me finish?” Gale raised his hand, pleading with her to wait. “That bastard…the way he acted as if he knew you.”
Gale’s expression darkened. Feravel thought he had to be thinking about the interaction with Gortash at the coronation. She bit the inside of her cheek nervously.
“For a moment, it felt like you were this stranger Gortash was describing…”
It surprised her to see Gale’s fingers slowly icing over as his ray of frost cantrip seemed to be forming -as if he could strike at Gortash all the way from there. She reached tentatively for Gale’s clenched fist, lightly taking it in her hands. Her thumb brushed over his knuckles soothingly.
“Gale…?”
He seemed abruptly to return to himself and the ice immediately disappeared from his hand.
“My apologies, I meant only that I’m sorry for my behavior towards you, my dear. I hope you can forgive my transgression?” He turned his hand so that he was holding hers in his palm and covered them with his other hand.
Guilt twisted sharply in her gut. Of course Gale’s expression was open and honest as he always had been ever since he’d shown her his past. They’d had no secrets since then. It was hard for her to actively have secrets anyway when her life felt like a nearly blank slate. Blank aside from the urge and glimpses of Gortash.
Enver Gortash who she’d just let kiss her up in his fortress. She hadn’t even been able to respond but for her surprise in the audience hall. In his office though, she’d been an active participant. If killing Gortash wasn’t already on their agenda, she was sure from the look in Gale’s eye, he would’ve strongly argued to add it after today.
A cold feeling of emptiness settled in Feravel’s gut at the idea of Enver being dead. Though it was chased away by the warm feeling of Gale’s hand on her cheek tilting her face up to look at him. He still held her hands in the one not cupping her cheek and he looked concerned.
“Fera, please say you forgive me?”
Without hesitation, she replied. “Of course I forgive you Gale.”
“That is a relief.” His face relaxed into an easy smile. He brushed his thumb affectionately along her cheek. “When you didn’t come back, I can’t say I didn’t fear you might not. Whether through your own choice or that something had happened to you…Orin’s assassins.”
“I’m here. I’m safe.”
Gale squeezed her hands quickly before releasing her to stride over to a nearby table. The tray of food it held had completely slipped her notice so focused she was on the dark haired wizard.
“I had this sent up a few hours ago. If you’re hungry? I cannot say the flavor is as expertly crafted as what I myself might’ve done, but it is passable and fresh at least. I had hoped we could eat together and discuss our plans for tomorrow.”
She couldn’t say she was hungry anyhow after the veritable feast Gortash had laid out. Not that she could easily tell Gale that.
“Ah, I picked something up at a stall actually.” She flashed him a half regretful smile when his face fell marginally. “But we could still have a drink?”
“Yes! I was able to procure a rather excellent vintage you should love.”
Gale swiftly fetched the bottle and glasses from where they’d been forgotten before the fire.
“Wine?” She asked with a slight hint of humor.
“But of course, you know my weakness, and with a proper selection available I couldn’t help myself. One never knows which day might be their last in such uncertain times. Best to enjoy what time and small pleasures we have.”
He poured a fair measure into the goblet for her and kept the half empty one for himself. They both took seats at the small table and were silent for a time enjoying each other’s company and the wine. Feravel reached across the table and took Gale’s hand again. He smiled at her and gave her fingers a gentle squeeze.
“Tomorrow then?” She prompted.
“Ah yes! Sorceress Sundries! No better place in the Gate to find all manner of magical artifacts and tomes. There’s not doubt they’ll have a volume or two tucked away on Netherese magic which could allow us to better understand the crown.”
Feravel furrowed her brow. She wasn’t sure she liked his time much when he referred to the crown. Curiosity was natural. Even she couldn’t say she wasn’t intrigued by its magical power, but she was also wary of its potential for destruction. All magic had an equal and opposite force. The weave…and the shadow weave. Conjuration and abjuration magics. Gale knew this, but he'd been tempted by this same prospect before. Her eyes fell to the spot she knew the mark of the orb was branded into his chest. Hidden just out of sight, much the same as the danger it presented. Had stabilizing the orb robbed him of the lesson he'd learned? She prayed not.
“Of course…”
He didn’t seem to notice how unsure she sounded and went on to discuss further about the many things they might find at the shop. Even musing over the possibility of healing magics they'd yet to learn of or consider in regard to her own problem. Feravel knew they were unlikely to find anything which might combat the urge though.
“Isn’t this place owned by that wizard who was looking for the Nightsong?” She furrowed her brow in thought -having only just then remembered.
Since they’d discovered the Nightsong was infact a person, or rather an Aasimar, Dame Alyin, Feravel hadn’t really thought much about the adventurers who’d been searching for the mysterious artifact.
“You’re right! I suppose we ought to speak with him while we’re there then as well. Lorroakan, I believe he’s called, I’m not familiar with him myself. We’ve never run in the same circles.”
“Yeah…I wonder if he didn’t know the Nightsong wasn’t an artifact all along.”
Gale frowned. “I suppose it would be wise to be cautious then.”
Feravel nodded then her eyes fell to her glass. It was almost empty. There was more in the bottle, but if they were to be up early she didn’t think it wise to indulge further.
“Perhaps we should take Lae’zel or Shadowheart with us then? I think Karlach and Halsin (maybe Wyll too?) are accompanying Astarion to scope out Cazador’s palace before we make any moves in that regard…”
“Karlach’s going?” Gale asked, sounding a tad amused.
“I think she’s the muscle incase anything goes wrong.” Said Feravel with a chuckle -imagining Karlach attempting to sneak around a vampire's palace undetected. “Or look out. I’m not sure, but I got the feeling she’s meant to fetch us if things go wrong and or seem especially dire.”
“Ah yes of course.”
A few beats of silence passed where they just smiled. It felt almost like they were alone.
“Gale?”
“Yes love?”
Her heart fluttered.
“What will we do after this is over?”
Gale didn’t respond at once. He looked down at their entwined fingers thoughtfully. It felt like he was choosing his words with great precision.
“Would you return home with me, to Waterdeep?”
“I hope you don’t intend to return to your life as a recluse?” Feravel asked.
Gale’s chuckle broke some of the tension that has built between them. “Oh no! With the orb stabilized there’s no need for that, but I could put in for a position at Blackstaff. I believe I might’ve heard about a retiring professor or two.”
He didn’t sound entirely sure, more that he was considering it only now as a possibility.
She hummed thoughtfully. “Teaching would suit you…and what would I do?”
Gale tapped the back of her hand thoughtfully.
“Well is there anything you’d like to do?”
Feravel hadn’t really considered it much. The threat of there being no tomorrow often interrupted any such ideas. She had entertained a few though.
“I might like to open a shop…?” She tested it as though she wasn’t sure whether it fit or not. “With a workshop.” She wasn’t sure why. Tinkering wasn’t exactly her area of expertise, but it just seemed right. “I think I’d still like to adventure though. Search for rare magical items and such?”
Gale smiled, hopefully. “And you’d live with me?”
Feravel’s heart clenched. She’d never had a home. None that she could remember any how. The closest thing she had would be her tent at camp, but that wasn’t a home so much as a place to sleep and a vague collection of her belongings. She had a feeling that where ever she lived and stayed as the Chosen of Bhaal wouldn't exactly be anything she'd now consider a home.
“At your tower?”
“Where else?” Gale asked.
“It’s your home. You’d share it with me?” She asked.
Gale furrowed his brow. “Of course!”
A broad grin split across her face as Feravel all but launched herself across the table to kiss Gale. He was momentarily shocked by her sudden onslaught, but she could feel him smile against her lips as his brain caught up. Their kiss was short but filled with passion which was perfunctorily interrupted by Gale attempting to draw her closer and accidentally knocking his goblet from the table instead. Thankfully it had been empty.
Reluctantly they broke apart.
“I suppose I might be able to take that as a yes then?”
She laughed. “Yes!”
“I know it’s late, but come sit with me awhile?” Gale gestured to where he’d been seated beside the fire when she arrived.
Wordlessly, Feravel followed him and took a seat at his side where he immediately wrapped his arm around her shoulder drawing her close. The familiar comforting scent of parchment, birch and lavender surrounded her as she leaned against him. It was so uniquely Gale that she could’ve identified it anywhere.
“I love you.” She said.
Turning to him, she found him smiling as he always did when she said as much. It made her heart soar.
“And I you.”
He lifted her chin to kiss her. When he made to withdraw though, she followed, deepening the kiss instead. Her tongue traced along his lip teasingly to which he conceded without a hint of protest. Gale slid his hand from her chin along her jaw to where it met her ear. Feravel made a soft sound of satisfaction into his mouth. She maneuvered herself from her place beside him and into his lap as gracefully as she could manage without breaking the kiss. He stifled his chuckle at her scrambling by kissing a trail from her lips along the other side of her jaw. A breathy exhale slipped past her lips and she shifted in his lap to get closer which caused him to nip her neck and shush her quietly.
He ran his hands over her thighs to her hips which he gripped firmly as he leaned forward lowering her back onto the rug. She rested her hands on either side of his neck as she tried to steady her breathing. Gale’s usually bright eyes were darkened and his gaze on her felt like oxygen to a flame, feeding the fire building inside her.
“Gale.”
“I know.” He whispered.
She glanced in the direction she knew their friends to be sleeping. A silent war beginning in her mind. Could they be quiet enough that it wouldn’t wake anyone? Her eyebrow arched at Gale. Wordlessly posing the question to him.
Before he could make any indication one way or another, they hear footsteps out in the hall that were drawing closer. One of the others who’d still been downstairs by the fact they weren’t bothering to hide their presence. An attacker or intruder would have gone to greater lengths to approach undetected. Feravel cursed under her breath as she irritably disentangled herself from Gale who only looked marginally less annoyed by the interruption. It seemed like it took an age for the door to open with the fire Gale had stoked racing through her veins, but when it did Feravel thought she could strangle Astarion who sauntered in looking like he had no care in the world.
“Evening darling and Gale.” Astarion said, grinning at them. “So good to see you weren’t murdered on your little jaunt around town. Our poor wizard was terribly worried.”
Feravel opened her mouth to retort, but snapped it shut for fear of raising voice at him and waking people in her annoyance at him. Astarion poorly hid his smirk behind his hand as his gaze flicked between her and Gale. The bastard knew exactly what he'd been interrupting. Gale for his part seemed to have regained control of himself and just looked rather tired.
“Well…I’ll see you in the morning. Don’t stay up too late.” He winked and strode off towards his bed.
Feravel deflated the moment the spawn was out of view. She looked at Gale and knew there was no picking up where they’d left off. It had been a long day, it was now very late, and the moment of excitement had passed. Besides, Feravel told herself, they wouldn’t have been able to get away with anything undetected anyway. Perhaps she’d be able to strong arm the barkeep for a private room at some point she wondered. Just as she considered it, Gale spoke interrupting her thoughts.
“We’d better get some rest.”
She sighed, looking longingly at him. “I know.”
He leaned in and kissed her cheek chastely, whispering. “Another time, soon.”
Soon, hopefully this would all be over. Then soon wouldn’t be a problem anymore. At his tower in Waterdeep there would be no one to hear them. Well no one besides Tara, but surely there were enough floors that she wouldn’t have to be nearby if it bothered her. Gods Feravel hoped the cat wouldn't follow them around in an attempt to discourage such things. She'd hardly seemed very friendly during their brief meeting at the temple of Ilmater. There must be a way she could win the beast over. Not calling her a cat for a start, she could almost hear Gale say.
Pushing the concern for grumpy tressyms from her mind Feravel made her way to her bed and climbed in. Her insides hadn’t quite cooled down, but still she laid down and closed her eyes. Eventually she would fall asleep she told herself. She just had to stop thinking about Gale’s lips or his tongue first.
When she finally was able to drift off, she dreamed. The most vivid dream she could recall, but perhaps that was because it was not just a dream -it was a memory.
She lay curled up on a plush velvet rug before a crackling fire, a pillow propped under her head and a warm blanket draped over her lower body. The heat wasn’t just coming from the fire though, behind her was a warm masculine body which she was tucked securely against. He was tracing lazy patterns with his finger tips from her shoulder and up the side of her neck. She let out a soft hmmm of contentment when he reached her ear and tucked a piece of hair behind it.
“You are exquisite.”
His breath fanned hot across her cheek causing a ripple of excitement to run through her.
“Flatterer.”
He chuckled. “Perhaps, but not with you.” He pressed a kiss to her neck. “I could never overstate your beauty.” Another kiss, lower on her neck. “Intelligence.” Another on her collarbone as his fingers ran down her rib cage. “Charm.”
Turning swiftly to face him, she pushed him back to lie flat on the rug, and swung her leg over his waist to straddle him. She held his traitorous hand by the wrist pinning it above his head.
“Be careful now, I would hate for you to start something you cannot finish.”
Her words were a sultry drawl. Enver’s eyes reflected a flicker of the firelight. He rested his free hand at her waist as he watched her hovering above him.
“I recall you told me some utter rubbish several weeks ago about only being human…needing your rest. Perhaps I should take my leave so as not to distract you?”
“True, I did say that.” He twisted his wrist from her grasp and she made no effort to stop him -a mischievous grin still playing at her lips. With his now free hand, he took hold of her other hip and pulled her against him, eliciting a soft moan from Feravel. “But, missing a nights rest is nothing for you.”
“Every once in a while at least? We wouldn’t want you to become negligent in your many duties.” She teased raking her finger nails down his chest.
Humming in agreement, Enver lifted his hips up so that Feravel’s core slid down his length and elicited a satisfied moan from the pair.
“I would so hate if my favorite Banite were to become dysfunctional. Good help is very difficult to find after all.”
Enver rolled his eyes. “One night will not render me inert, my dear, besides it is still early.”
Feravel lifted an eyebrow and glanced at the window where she could just see the faintest pink steaks coloring the sky. “Is it? It looks to me to be quite late.”
A grin curled his lips. “No, it is very early in the morning.”
“So it is.” She chuckled.
He leaned forward giving her a searing kiss, of such intensity she moaned against his lips.
“I would do most anything for you.”
The words were just a breath against her lips.
Suddenly her Urge twisted inside her, calling for blood. A fire of raced through her causing Feravel to tense momentarily. She wanted to pull away, put a safe distance between herself and Enver, give him a warning, but it was too sudden. Then her hand moved of its own accord to tighten around Enver’s throat. She pulled back to stare into his eyes.
“Would you die for me?”
Enver stared intently into her eyes.
Just as he opened his mouth to speak, Feravel’s head ached something fierce and she sat up sharply in bed heaving deep breaths. It felt like she’d been plunged into an icy cold river after being wrapped in a deliciously warm embrace. Nausea washed over her in waves. She barely made it to the washroom before she was vomiting wine and bile into the basin. Pain stung sharply behind her eyes so horribly that they began to water. The pounding in her head was near unbearable. Waves of the intense urge she'd felt in the dream washed over her causing her to grip the basin painfully hard as she gasped for air.
The sound of footsteps behind her immediately sent Feravel into a panic. She hadn't gotten a grip on the urge yet. An icy chill of fear at the thought of what the urge might make her do fought against the burning lust for blood.
"Too much wine?" It was Astarion.
"Don't come any closer!" She snapped.
The footsteps stopped. She could feel his gaze on her back.
After a moment he asked. "Shall I fetch the wizard?"
"Astarion. If you don't leave. I may gut you."
She managed to force the words out through gritted teeth despite the focus it took to hold onto the basin instead of reach for the nearest weapon. The only other time the urge had been so strong while she was conscious was when it had tried to force her to kill Gale. If she could just ride it out alone it would have to pass. With no potential victim close by it would have to wane...eventually.
But why was it so strong?
The dream. Enver. Had she almost killed him?
Astarion hadn't moved. His heart didn't beat, but she could feel his presence.
Kill. Kill. KILL.
"LEAVE!"
Only sometime after his footsteps receded did she finally start to feel in control of herself again. Breathing slow calming breaths, Feravel experimented by slowly loosening her grip on the basin until she managed to fully release it. When she didn't immediately feel over come by the desire to do violence she leaned back and flopped down onto the floor. Tears filled her eyes.
brought to us by the incredible @bhaal-battle-beer-bard, thank you so much, darling! 🫶😘🥳🖤
Day 1: Why them? That’s why! – Show us/let us know why they are your magic spark
(Imagine this being narrated like a nature documentary, preferably in the voice of David Attenborough)
Soft, reverent narration begins over sweeping ambient music
Here... we observe Celeste.
For those who have journeyed long in these digital realms, she might have become a familiar presence.
A redeemed Dark Urge — what researchers of role-playing behavior might call an "original character" — she represents a most remarkable specimen of creative evolution.
Music swells gently
The creator, a veteran of over two decades in the art of character construction, has developed a fascinating pattern. Each new expedition begins with what we might call... cautious optimism. Voice selected. Appearance chosen. Class determined. "Good enough," they think. "This... might work."
Pause, contemplative
But the wilderness of narrative is unforgiving.
Multiple Tavs — early prototypes, if you will — have been abandoned in what we call Act One. No story emerged from the undergrowth. No inner voice called out. No unique identity took root. They simply... faded. Forgotten. Lost to the digital mists.
Tone shifts — a note of wonder enters
And then... Celeste.
VP by alstromeri-a
A pleasant face. Striking heterochromia lending her that certain edge. Perhaps, just perhaps, there was something here worth pursuing.
Quiet intensity
Those Dark Urge voice lines — the unmistakable thrill in her reactions to death, to blood — these were not mere dialogue. They were... windows. Windows into something far more complex than the creator had initially anticipated.
A contemplative pause
Here was a creature worth observing. Worth understanding.
Through Celeste's eyes, the world transformed. The companions — those fellow travelers on this perilous journey — were not simply allies to be collected. They were puzzles to be examined. Relationships to be navigated with a mind that could not fully trust itself.
Soft, almost haunting
And the world itself... how differently she perceived it. Where others saw beauty, she might see fragility. Where others found comfort, she discovered questions with no answers.
The music grows quieter, more intimate
But most remarkable of all... the gaps. The voids where memory should reside. Great swathes of her past — lost. Were they stolen by time? Erased by injury? Or perhaps... consumed by something far more unsettling.
Madness.
A beat of silence
Her mind, you see, was not entirely her own. Parts of it had been... misplaced. And in those empty spaces, questions bloomed like strange flowers in a shadowed garden.
Who was she? Who had she been?
And perhaps most troubling of all... which version was real?
brought to us by the incredible @bhaal-battle-beer-bard, thank you so much, darling! 🫶😘🥳🖤
Day 5: Fine robes – Show them off in your favourite outfit/robe/armour for them
(Imagine this being narrated like a nature documentary, preferably in the voice of David Attenborough)
Now, one might expect a creature of such power — dragon blood in her veins, two devoted companions — to display the typical markers of status. The peacock's plumage, as it were.
A slight pause
But Celeste... is not vain.
Almost amused
Clothing holds no fascination for her. Status symbols leave her unmoved. And decorum — that carefully constructed set of social behaviors most creatures adhere to — she regards with... shall we say... selective compliance.
Warmth enters the voice
Her favorite garments? Not silks. Not enchanted armor gleaming with arcane runes.
No.
Gale's old robes.
VP by rdekarios, thank you so much!
Soft fondness
Comfortable. Well-worn. Offering the freedom of movement her restless nature requires. The fabric has been softened by time, shaped by someone else's body before becoming hers. There is something... honest about them.
The tone grows more stark, documentary-precise
But we must travel back. To the beginning of this journey.
A contemplative pause
Then, she possessed even less. Barely more than rags, truly. An old piece of cotton, bound crudely as a skirt. A simple black sleeveless shirt. And a small corsage — not for decoration, mind you.
Quiet observation
To hide the holes in the fabric.
This was how she began. Not in glory. Not in finery.
In necessity.
The music softens, becomes tender
And yet... on rare occasions, she does dress for formal events. Gowns. Elaborate attire. The full performance of civilized society.
A knowing pause
But make no mistake about the motivation here.
This is not vanity awakening within her. Not a sudden appreciation for fine things.
Gentle
No. When Celeste adorns herself in silk and jewels, when she submits to the constraints of formal dress...
She does it for him.
For Gale.
Quiet understanding
A gift, of sorts. The willingness to step into a world that matters to him, even when it chafes against her nature.
brought to us by the incredible @bhaal-battle-beer-bard, thank you so much, darling! 🫶😘🥳🖤
Day 2: Love is magic – Show your favourite pairing for them
(Imagine this being narrated like a nature documentary, preferably in the voice of David Attenborough)
And here... we discover something fundamental about our subject's nature.
Celeste is, at her core, a hedonist.
A warmth enters the narration
But not in the manner one might superficially assume. No — her pursuit of pleasure runs deeper than mere indulgence. It manifests most profoundly in how she experiences connection itself.
She is polyamorous. And for her, this is not simply preference — it is philosophy.
Contemplative pause
In her world, love does not operate by the laws of scarcity. It is not a vessel that empties as it pours.
Rather... it expands.
The music swells gently
Each connection does not diminish what came before. The love grows larger. Becomes more. As if each bond unlocked some hidden capacity, revealing depths she hadn't known existed.
And when trust enters the equation...
A reverent pause
Then the transformation is complete. What was expansive becomes intense. The very act of trusting — of being trusted in return — amplifies everything.
A subtle shift in tone — more focused now
But make no mistake. This is not... indiscriminate.
She is not greedy. Does not seek to collect hearts like trophies, to scatter her affections broadly across every willing soul.
Soft, with deep certainty
No. Her heart has chosen its orbit. Two souls. Two gravitational centers around which everything else revolves.
Gale. And Halsin.
A contemplative silence
These are not interchangeable. Not replaceable. They are the fixed stars by which she navigates.
brought to us by the incredible @bhaal-battle-beer-bard, thank you so much, darling! 🫶😘🥳🖤
Day 3: You won’t pass on the right SUBCLASS – Your fave arcane caster subclass
(Imagine this being narrated like a nature documentary, preferably in the voice of David Attenborough)
But we must understand... Celeste is not merely defined by her hearts' attachments.
There is something else coursing through her. Something ancient.
The music shifts — a low, rumbling undertone
She is a draconic bloodline sorceress. And what this means, in practical terms, is that the power of dragons — creatures who ruled the skies millennia before her birth — runs through her veins.
A pause, heavy with significance
VP by rdekarios
Not metaphorically.
Literally.
The narration grows more intense
This is not magic learned from dusty tomes. Not spells painstakingly memorized through years of study. No — this power is innate. Inherited. Written into her very essence at the moment of conception, passed down through bloodlines so old their origins have faded into myth.
