#moonmaidened

[sanguisstella]

a long silence falls over the cleric ( entirely in disbelief, she would argue ) as her eyes widen to the catastrophe before them. sure, her spells miss plenty of times, but never in such a dire moment of hitting a support beam to knock out some more than slightly angry ogres.

a part of her is direly wondering if she should run.

UNPROMPTED INTERACTIONS ( always accepting. ) || @moonmaidened

ASTARION HAS NEVER BEEN ONE FOR GRAND, LONG-TERM PLANS, though he'd admit he thought he could at least take out one precariously unsteady beam. It would have been PERFECT— shoot the pathetically decrepit, little wooden beam, crash the ceiling onto the too-talkative ogres, and if he's lucky, there's a free meal at the end of this. A done deal. He should have known better.

❛ Another spectacular failure. Who do you think you are fooling, boy? ❜

He refuses to dwell on the voice; he's come TOO FAR to be haunted by his former master. He may not be entirely free, but he's so much stronger than the vampire lord ( or anyone ) gives him credit for.

❝ Well. I've gotten out of stickier situations, certainly. I can't think of any right now, but that's hardly the point.... ❞ The situation is almost comical to the newly-outed vampire until he turns to realize his comrades have decided to do NOTHING in the wake of his critical miss. ❝ The point is: could you do literally anything?! ❞

There's a shrillness to his voice he's yet to learn to control. He doesn't care. If this whole godsforsaken village heard him, he STILL wouldn't care. Surely a murderous gith and Faerun's gloomiest cleric could manage something other than catching flies with their OPEN mouths.

❝ Honestly, do I have to do everything around here? ❞

[sinistercall]

『 "𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐒𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐍 𝐏𝐈𝐓𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐈𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐈𝐅𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐀 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓" 』

"𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘐 𝘥𝘰 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘰𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘺 𝘱𝘪𝘵𝘺. 𝘍𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘢 𝘭𝘢𝘥𝘺 𝘩𝘪𝘨𝘩 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘷𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘸𝘰𝘯 𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘰𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘯; 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘢 𝘭𝘢𝘥𝘺 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘧𝘶𝘭, 𝘐 𝘥𝘦𝘦𝘮, 𝘣𝘦𝘺𝘰𝘯𝘥 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘌𝘭𝘷𝘦𝘯-𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭. 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘐 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶."

Such a thing graced Ithuriel's eyes as she cut back into reality once more, finding herself laying down within her tent atop her bedroll - it smells sweet, like cinnamon ; how had she gotten here? Cinnamon ... Kettle ... Tea - Her gaze flicked over to spy that fluttering imp, right, she remembers now. The group had settled down for the evening after finishing up various chores, and she had thought it better for the night to read that 𝐆𝐀𝐔𝐃𝐘 romance novel Astarion had lent her. Something to clear her " 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘺 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥 " and hopefully lead to ... " 𝘦𝘹𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮𝘴 ". The comment racked a shudder across her being. Fel (   𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘦?   ) had arrived shortly after, happy enough in her presence to speak with her plainly; his voice - despite all of the horrid vocabulary - somehow was a comfort. She'd managed to convince him to settle down in his chatter beside her, but ever diligent to work he kept twitching - so she had given him laundry to fold while she ‘studied up on runic symbols’. A lie, but one he didn't seem displeased by despite her confidence that he knew what she was actually up to. 

"Ahh you always were 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓𝐘 for knowledge Master! You should really rest though, my Lady, you must be tired from all of the sorocide from today. However, if you insist, I will stay here to watch over you and make sure you complete your studies."

Like a parent guiding their child. Had it always been that way? Had there been a point where the Scleritas held her 𝐋𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐁𝐡𝐚𝐚𝐥 𝐁𝐚𝐛𝐞 hand? Much to her chagrin, it brings a soft grin to her lips - a fleeting one as she peeks over to her gentlegoblin. She had no memory of being a child, no memory before waking up on the Nautiloid ... Surely she was 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓, once? He had mentioned being a "   𝘋𝘳𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘉𝘩𝘢𝘢𝘭   '' himself, something made to aid and protect Bhaal's most beloved child - Perhaps if there was any good within the 𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐌𝐔𝐑𝐃𝐄𝐑, he had placed it into Fel to keep her company and guide her along the way ... If not just to puppet her back into the Dread Lord's sticky and crimson embrace. The Butler began to hum as her cerise gaze trailed downward to her - well, 𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐍'𝐒 - book once more.

"𝘖𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘐 𝘱𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘰𝘸. 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘯𝘰𝘸, 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴, 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘰𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘬, 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘧𝘶𝘭 𝘘𝘶𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘎𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘰𝘳, 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘐 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶. 𝘌𝘰𝘸𝘺𝘯, 𝘥𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘮𝘦?’ 

Surely he'd given her the wrong novel, this was far from some cheap romantic smut fest she had expected to open into, and she was unsure if she was disappointed or not. It was a fabulous book, one she had almost instantly bonded with; a traveler on a long journey fighting against his own corruption. 𝘗𝘦𝘳𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘦'𝘥 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘫𝘶𝘥𝘨𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘱 - 𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥. Instinctually her stare lifts to the rest of camp, alone in her tent but never truly lonely; someone was always out and about. The Sharran and Blade of Frontiers seemed locked in wicked debate, though their voices were soft their bodies told a new tale. Yes ... That was it, she concludes - the book she was so fond of; it reminded her of 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓. Introduced crudely but swiftly found to be resourceful and, well, a joy. She should speak to her soon ... maybe the two could step aside from their differences. Although the woman’s piercing expression did little to ease any doubts dancing about Ithuriel’s mind.

𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘌𝘰𝘸𝘺𝘯 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘥, 𝘰𝘳 𝘦𝘭𝘴𝘦 𝘢𝘵 𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘪𝘵. 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘶𝘥𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘱𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘯 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘳.

Ithuriel observes over the camp once more before white moon-kissed locks greet her, eyes angling lower to watch Astarion mumble and pace about while holding a book that seemed much too heavy for his nimble statue. Her lips part with a tilt of her head, her own wintry hair spilling over her shoulder as she finds fuzzy moss growing in her. It's warm and fluffy and invades every part of her form, the garden inside of her chest feels like it's going to sprout from her mouth - and her ears flutter as though she were a butterfly prancing about from petal to petal. A blushing flush ran across her cheeks, she is safe in her small den ; and Astarion is far too preoccupied. She tries to further indulge in those 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐘 feelings, and in the selenic glow, soft rays of silver and blue - he's as beautiful as glistening dew and the call of bird song. To her own reluctance, Ithuriel's mind begins to twist herself into the visage before her, next to him and listening to his murmurs of frustration and amusement. Her steady intelligent gaze studied him closely, noting the strength in his forearms that bore every inch of his determination and longing for freedom. 

Insurrection. Spite. 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 ... 𝘠𝘦𝘴 ... 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘴.

That is when those sanguineous eyes meet hers and lock in, her tadpole twitches - longing to reach out - but the shuddering of her skin gives her the strength to break the look between them. Ithuriel had never been looked at so 𝐃𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐋𝐘, within a moment he had undressed her soul - even buried under blanketed layers of wool she'd never felt so naked. The tiefling dares to look back at him; her veins turning to ice at the stark realization that he has not broken away yet. Not once.  Those eyes are full of a deep understanding and calm indifference. It is a crimson sea she wishes she could pour herself in to become the foam atop each wave of his iris. She is a person and he, as another person acknowledges that. 

                                               ... 𝐀 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍 ...  

How long ... How 𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆 had it been since she had felt like one? Not a monster, not a 𝐆𝐨𝐝, not a 𝐌𝐀𝐃 𝐁𝐇𝐀𝐀𝐋 𝐁𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐍 -

" - Master, I have finished! -- Ohhh! Oh my Lady, did I startle you? It still pains me so to see my little liege in distress." The Sceleritas comforted quickly, soothing Ithuriel back from her skittish yip. "You appear to be on the same page as before! Are you troubled, Master?"

" ... No. I - Thank you, Fel. I - I," her hand fidgets forward to free the clasp of her tent, closing off herself from the outside world. From Warmth. From Friends. From Love. She doesn't dare look at any of their companions. Not now. "I think I will be turning in for the night, I ... Will you stay? I ... I think even with my loss of memory I have missed you."

"Ah ... Master, you make a butler 𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐒𝐇! I'll carve that compliment into my heart! Worry not, my demiurge, these feelings of distraction will wane soon enough and you will be back on your feet by the next moon! A person of your fine 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 is never down for long, I know the unholy guarantee of your Father's legacy will spur you on. It is woven into you."

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘶𝘳𝘴 𝘥𝘰 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘱𝘪𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥, 𝘰𝘳 𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘬𝘯𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥.

✧ ── 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐃 ۞ 𝐓𝐎 𝐌𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄 ɪᴛʜᴜʀɪᴇʟ ʟɪꜰ - ʙᴀʟᴅᴜʀ'ꜱ ɢᴀᴛᴇ 3: ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴀʀᴋ ᴜʀɢᴇ - @burntscars

[sanguisstella]

" would you let me pray for you? "

UNPROMPTED INTERACTIONS ( always accepting. ) || @moonmaidened

❝ OH? AND WHATEVER FOR...? Does our dear Shadowheart have such a low opinion of me that she thinks I need divine assistance? ❞

The comment is SUPPOSED to be teasing, but there’s icy feeling that crawls up his spine at the matter-of-fact way their PRECIOUS little cleric words her question. What does he need prayers for? It’s not as if any god was feeling GENEROUS enough to come to his aid before. He knows he should be trying his best to get along with his newfound FRIENDS ( for lack of a better word ), though try as he might, there’s no keeping the sharpness out of his words or the ICE out of his pointed gaze.

❝ If there’s anyone you should be praying for, it's our poor wizard, ❞ he gestures over the half-elf’s shoulder with a tilt of his head, schooling his expression into one of CASUAL annoyance. Suddenly he finds his nails much more interesting. ❝ Honestly, he spent half of the last battle just trying to stand on his own two feet. It’s PATHETIC, really. Darling Gale is still laying face down in the dirt. ❞

[moonserved]

“ perhaps i got a bit ahead of myself, ” seepishly does shadowheart stand before her. a pair of scissors in one hand, remains of her hair in another. least, if nothing else, her bangs look decent so far. “ would you be able to spare time? there’s a lot of hair … and dye. ”

* — IN CHARACTER ASKS. ( always accepting )

— @moonspear.

To say the two had gotten along from the start would have been a lie. Shadowheart was none too keen on relying on the Moonmaiden's protection, nor on being any more civil than the situation demanded; but it had been a shared sentiment. A sharran and a selûnite could scarcely be expected to act differently toward one another.

But she knew, as well, that there was more to the other woman than that — else the Lady of Silver would not have extended her blessing to Shadowheart at all. A sentiment soon proven right as more of the other cleric's story was revealed, even to herself. Shar had taken everything from her; it was time to reclaim what had been stolen. And what best way to start than with herself?

Isobel's silvery gaze is empathetic. A change in appearance may not be enough, but she knows the real change had already started, inner rather than outer. She is glad of it; many years may have been taken from Shadowheart, many choices, many experiences, but her future could yet be reclaimed, and she was willing to do it. The hair was not the change; it was the declaration of it, an announcement made for all around her of the path she intended to follow.

The half smile makes it obvious Shadowheart has come to the right person, more than willing to offer her aid. "It's a good start," The compliment isn't meant as mere comfort; the bangs frame her face nicely — bring out her beauty, despite how simple the change is. "I cannot say I'm quite experienced with hair dye, but I surely have the time, and two pairs of hands will surely make this easier, yes?"

Her footsteps are quiet as she approaches, taking her place behind Shadowheart. "May I?" Hand half reaching for the raven-colored locks, the question is more an announcement than a request for permission, when that had been granted before. Allowed to continue, Isobel runs her fingers through dark hair gently, unsurprised to find it already detangled. Carefully does she part it, and more carefully still would she go on to aid in applying the dye. They have plenty of time; the selûnite sees no reason for it to be spent in complete silence, much less when she meant to say the words eventually, regardless.

"I think it's brave of you to embrace change — to make your life your own. It's not an easy thing to do. I admire your courage, Shadowheart." A half smile, concealed from the other as it may be. "Something tells me the change in appearance will suit you well." But then again, what wouldn't?

[moonserved]

" do you forgive those whose actions were wrong due to unjust reasons? " sure, she could be subtle, but what's the point?

* — IN CHARACTER ASKS. (always accepting)

— @moonmaidened.

Does she?

The question, posed so straightforwardly, has no straightforward answer. Shadowheart speaks of herself, evidently, but there are so many this could apply to. Foremost on her mind is her father; could the terrible things he had done be absolved in light of the twisted love that moved him? Was the man he had been once enough to look upon him with kindness?

Isobel had been first to advise the adventurers to show Ketheric Thorm no mercy, for he would show them none. The evils he had committed — to their home, their family, countless other people, Aylin most of all — were not easily forgiven. Her freedom, her beloved's freedom, it is only possible because he is dead. He had shown no sincere, profound regret. Not like that hinted at in the other woman's words.

"That depends," There is no straightforward answer, regardless of what Shadowheart expects. Isobel tries not to draw it out, however; and though there is seriousness in how she speaks, there is kindness in her voice, too. "Do they regret those actions? Would they wish to atone for them, either undoing what was done or, should that not be possible, striving to do right?"

"One cannot be forgiven without acknowledging her wrongs. But," A pause, while silver eyes study the other's expression. "I believe there is always room for forgiveness for those who seek it."