#ic replies.

[2centuries]

@silvertiefling sent: *leaves a large dead monster at the door of his tent* <- a courting gift she hunted shh

the scent hits him first — hot blood and decay, metallic and wet, soaking into the fine weave of his favorite rug. Astarion freezes in the tent’s threshold, his hand still clutching the flap. there, splayed across the ground like some grotesque offering to a blood god, lies a creature he can’t even name. almost the size of a bear, limbs askew, its throat savaged and its innards half-spilled onto the canvas. Astarion stares. then — he exhales an unnecessary breath. a slow, theatrical sigh, one that borders dangerously close to a groan.

❛ darling, ❜ he drawls, but unable to mask the amusement in his voice, ❛ this is disgusting. ❜ he stands there in the doorway like a man betrayed, one brow elegantly arched and lips curved into a smile that is equal parts amused and horrified. he knows it’s her before his eyes flick up to the figure looming behind it. Katya. grinning, and blood-spattered. there’s something wolfish in her eyes, even when she’s not wearing fur. ❛ it’s bleeding all over my fine rug, ❜ he says, as though the loss of woven craftsmanship were a mortal wound. ❛ i swear, you’re like an insane, feral cat that’s brought me the world’s ugliest bird as a present. ❜

he looks at her — really looks at her — eyes flicking across her face, her shoulders, her limbs. she’s filthy, and yet he searches for the color that doesn’t belong. a nick across her temple ? a limp in her gait ? he doesn’t find any. he hates how his stomach twists. not with disgust. with concern. ❛ though…❜ he murmurs, ❛ i can’t say i’m not impressed you managed to find and kill a meal this hearty in a land this devoid of anything alive and untouched by the shadow - curse. ❜

a beat passes. ❛ are you… alright ? ❜ he asks, more softly this time, almost careful. the words are foreign on his tongue, heavy with meaning he’s not ready to unpack. ❛ you weren’t hurt out there, were you ? ❜ he hates that he’s asking. hates that he cares. and yet, he stands there — torn between wanting to scold her for ruining his décor, and the irrational urge to pull her inside and make sure every inch of her is still intact. gods help him. he’s falling for a beast.

[reversetrapped]

cont. from here // @facepeeled

Amanda knows that Cricket is right, she really should have said something. But it wasn't like she expected things to end up the way they did. Sure, she knew Cricket had a fighting chance, knew she was smart enough to get this far. What she hadn't expected was that'd she'd end up caring this much about her.

To Amanda, what she did was simply what she had to do. A fact she would defend. What did it matter in the grand scheme of things? Surely they both had to know that if she hadn't taken her and chained her up in that bathroom, neither of them would be here. And as selfish as it was, she wanted Cricket here, needed her now too. Maybe even loved her. How could she ever regret saving her?

"Where do you think you'd be right now if I hadn't done it? Huh? Stuck in the same shitty cycles, living the same shitty life. But here? You're changed." She leans in close, "we need you," she says. "And I'm not ashamed of any of it." Because now she was here, with her.

[sevenslept-blog]

@bravelink

“At least with me you aren’t having to turn around and crane your neck up to see someone ridiculously tall behind you. That would be much more impressive than an inch.”

“ That is a fair point... I guess it’s nice to see my short gene carried on throughout the generations. ” He snorts.

[2centuries]

@natureswarden cont’d from here.

Astarion lets out a soft, breathy sigh through his nose — the sort that’s almost a laugh, though decidedly not a kind one. ❛ oh, yes, ❜ he drawls, brushing invisible dust from his doublet with the back of his knuckles. ❛ let us go frolicking into the sunlight together, arm in arm like the best of friends. i’ll even bring the flower crowns. ❜ his tone is light, sarcastic, but not quite sharp enough to wound. he doesn’t look at Halsin when he says it. not at first.

instead, his eyes are trained somewhere else — anywhere else, really — flitting over the idle bustle of the camp: Gale fiddling with something arcane and overcompensatory, Shadowheart perched on a rock trying very hard to appear unbothered by anyone’s presence, and Lae’zel sharpening her sword like it personally offended her. all perfectly tedious. and none of them nearly so distracting as the bulwark of muscle and forest-scented druid looming beside him.

Astarion finally turns his head to regard Halsin, and gods, it’s not fair — the way the man simply exists. broad and sun - kissed like something carved from oaken heartwood, with eyes like mossy glades and arms that could snap a spine or cradle a deer, depending on his mood. Astarion clicks his tongue softly, the tip resting against a fang. he wasn’t going to join him. truly, he wasn’t. but the idea of trailing after the druid, watching him prowl through the underbrush all tense and focused, warm blood pumping hot beneath flesh — well, it’s a tempting enough idea to make Astarion reconsider his stance on this entire nature - worshipping excursion.

and anyway, it wasn’t as though he had anything better to do. except continue starving. ❛ oh, very well, ❜ he says, tone lilting with exaggerated reluctance as he rises with a graceful stretch. he gives an artful little groan as he rolls his shoulders, letting his shirt shift just enough to catch the light on the pale expanse of his collarbone. ❛ you’ve worn me down. ❜ a pause. a smile, small and wicked, curls across his lips. ❛ and what exactly, my dear bear of a man, are we getting ourselves into ? i’d like to know what sort of rustic, mud-caked debauchery i’m signing up for. ❜ he tilts his head, curls brushing against his pointed ear, ruby eyes gleaming with interest that is absolutely not hunger. ❛ no tree - worshipping rituals, i hope ? unless they’re the kind that end with wine and someone getting half - naked. ❜ he flashes fangs and gestures vaguely toward the treeline. ❛ lead on, my sun - drenched shepherd. let’s see if the wilds can offer me anything more appetizing than our current company. ❜

[reversetrapped]

" did s -- some -- something h --- happen ? "

@cfshyncss

She's pacing outside, trying to calm herself down. Trying to refocus, maybe get her head on straight. She pauses, looking at the other, taking in her concerned words. Brow quirks, "nothing you need to worry about," Amanda says. "What are you doing out here so late anyway?"

[filthtaught]

@fgreene continued from here !

It's a much more optimistic take than her own. In Amelia's mind, connections meant risk. Potential to be stabbed in the back. There was also the part of her that associated any kind of caring or attachment with loss and grief.

She'd be hard pressed to admit it, but the idea of letting people in terrified her. Amelia didn't know how to accept help, she was so convinced that she was better off alone, standing on her own two feet. Needing people was a liability.

"It doesn't feel safer," she says. "You never know what someone is going to do. If they'd leave you alone, laying in the dirt." She looks at him, and considers the fact that she probably sounded like a dick right now. He seemed so sincerely nice. "I don't know, I guess I just haven't really tried lately either way."

[dulcemori-blog1]

tags.

[ofunderdogs]

[text] “I think I"m d;arunk. the mabr wont let me in.” // nottragic :))))

TEXT SAMI A THING !!     //      accepting.          @nottragic.

text   ≫  sent.    The what?text   ≫  sent.    I’ll come get you if you wanttext   ≫  sent.    You somewhere close by?