decided to pick the moments from my bg3 wip that live in my head as the most iconic, defining, emblematic-of-their-energy-and-priorities things my beloved girls have done. Enjoy previews of coming attractions. 💘
marigold: setting herself on fire to get baking ingredients
evie: hitting on zevlor and halsin in rapid succession at the tiefling party. Failing both times. Not caring
roslin: immediately derailing the super important family mission for zombie drinks at the undead tavern (not pictured: her successfully poisoning herself with fucked up alcohol)
norie: telling people who don’t have the full context that the SERIAL KILLER is a noble hero who is completely correct in SERIALLY KILLING PEOPLE. Clearly committed to this perspective
thea: texting her girlfriend insanely concerning messages as to her whereabouts and responding to justified concern with 👍
sofie: category 4 horse girl moment (she’s 11. What else could it be)
and bonus daisy: mid anxiety attack about leaving the house. At all times
Sofie sits on the table, cookie in hand, eyes bright, and watches. She really is such a wonderful little girl, Marigold thinks. In her time at the bakery, she's met so many children, but Sofie is singular. Exemplary. Hers.
Up well past her bedtime, too, but as senior wizard in the kitchen, Marigold gets to make executive bedtime decisions. Tonight is special. She adds a funny little flourish as she pulls out her favorite spoon, tapping it against the edge of the pot to activate the runes within. The potion glows with arcane excitement.
"Babycat," she says, "will you pass me--"
And of course her perfect girl knows exactly what she wants, and hands the cinnamon over, glowing with delight and wriggling happily when Marigold bestows a proud smile upon her. "For the water!" she says.
"For the water!" Marigold agrees, all but singing the words, and sprinkles the cinnamon into the bubbling pot.
A rap on the door. Thea says, "Bunny--"
"Oh, it's only a few more minutes," says Marigold, "she's not staying up too late--"
"Yes, she is, and you are too. I know how you get." Thea moves forward, stepping up onto the carved stool to try and lift Sofie down from the counter. Sofie whines in protest and squirms away. "Kitten," says Thea irritably.
"Oh, you know that won't work," says Marigold. She grins at the bubbling mixture, watching the cinnamon swirl into a beautiful spiral in the middle. "She only lets me do that."
"So come over here and do it."
"In a minute."
Thea takes the spoon from Marigold and sets it aside.
"M--" says Marigold, realizes what she almost said, and changes well before even the first syllable is finished, clumsily. "Thea."
It's always strange to work around the word. She doesn't know why she still does it. Maybe because a word like that doesn't belong to someone like Thea, who's kind, and who's only ever been good to her. Thea seems to want to hear it, which makes Marigold think that Thea's mum, whoever she was, must have been very nice, but Marigold's mum--well.
(The scarred star on her chest aches.)
Thea says, with all that patience and none of the hurt that Marigold always expects every time the word trips her up, "Bunny, it really is bedtime. Didn't Sarai teach you that ward to keep your potion in stasis until you want to start it again?"
Grudgingly, Marigold activates the ward in question. Sofie looks deeply disappointed. "It's the witching hour, Thea," says Marigold. "You're interrupting my process."
"You're interrupting the sleep your little one should be getting," Thea chides.
Marigold glances towards Thea. She's not sure what prompts what she asks next. "Back when you first brought me here, did I have bedtimes this early?"
"Oh, earlier," says Thea. "You slept hard as anything. Course, you tired yourself out running round with the street cats all day. Gave poor Ros just about a thousand heart attacks; we always thought you'd run off and gotten yourself tangled up with Astele's crew."
"Well, that would have been fine," says Marigold, nose upturned. "She would have brought me home."
She picks up Sofie from the counter. The little girl is heavy and soft as a sack of flour, though of course much more tactile. Clingy. Sofie's dark head falls against her shoulder and Marigold realizes that the little girl really is getting sleepy.
Softly, she says, "Do you get better at it, then? With time? Noticing when--and how--and how you're supposed to--"
"Don't you worry about that," says Thea. She squeezes Marigold's elbow. "I'll always be round to remind you."
marigold resolves to be more assertive about her wants and needs, which is one of those resolutions that is really funny because it demonstrates her total lack of self-awareness. news flash, bunny, being outrageously passive-aggressive around family members who are very used to this DOES still count as being assertive about wants and needs! she also resolves to be more focused in her wizard classes because she keeps on spending all the theory classes writing magical recipes in the margins of her notes and missing 80 percent of the actual things she's there to learn. i am 1000 percent sure she's not going to manage to keep this one. she probably has like 170 more resolutions and spends the entirety of new year's eve writing all of them down and explaining them to people and drawing charts about them and deciding which ones to do when. like the normal girl she is
thea resolves to make a boat woodworking-style. she thinks it would be cool. this has been her new year's resolution for like 50 years running and every time she makes it jaheira is like "can you please pick a different one that you'll actually do" and thea gets very offended and is like okay THIS YEAR i'm going to make a REAL BOAT (it is not going to happen)
roslin resolves to annoy jaheira more and to kiss 30 cute boys before the year is over. she ups the number of boys every year like it's some sort of speedrun dating challenge. she has never failed in either of these resolutions and will not fail this year either (has a head start this time because jaheira gets a :/ look as soon as she hears the resolution)
lenora resolves to Practice Kindness, Patience, And Compassion, which is HER resolution every year, and which she is going to miserably fail at on day one of the new year when a customer asks her to "smile more" and she's going to try to kill them
evie doesn't really understand the concept of a new year's resolution because she is so firmly rooted in the Now, but after it's very patiently explained to her she decides that her new year's resolution is to win that one extremely rigged carnival game at the circus by using underhanded circus tricks from her own teen years as a circus performer. she does this in 5secs on new year's eve because she made the resolution based on what was literally right in front of her and is like WOAH HOORAY THE NEW YEAR IS A SUCCESS YAY and then forgets about the concept of a new year's resolution again
bonus: sofie resolves to practice her baking really really hard, to listen to her mommy so that she learns how to be a good bakery wizard, and to always play with the bakery cat once every day so she doesn't get lonely <3
sometimes a family is a human cleric of ilmater with emotional issues, a barbie dream princess tiefling fighter, a half elf wizard who is trying to win Most Normal And Mentally Stable Girl Ever (and losing), her elven apprentice who's really just her adopted daughter at this point (she's the only one who did not get that memo), and their dwarf mom who is not their boss despite marigold's genuine belief that this is a workplace relationship
🌟 if i can’t change the weather, maybe i can change your mind ← for sofie? ✨💛💜✨
(set with grown up sofie and her elven name!)
“Not now, pet,” says her o’su.
Violet levels an extremely unimpressed look across the office and says, “I am so fucking serious, Dad, you’re going outside today or I’m dragging you outside. You are overworked and we both know it. Do I have to call in Mumma? I absolutely will.”
In a tone of voice that means he thinks he’s being clever, her o’su says, “Hardly the sort of weather for an outdoor stroll, is it?”
“Father,” says Violet reprovingly.
“See, now you’re giving her incentive to just, I don’t know, make it stop raining,” says Astarion, the bastard, who’s lounging in the chair by her o’su’s desk like he owns the fucking place, which he doesn’t. “Take a lesson or two from me, Sofie, and respect your elders when they tell you no.”
“When have you ever done that?” says Violet disbelievingly. “When in your life have you ever respected an elder?”
“Would you mind taking this outside?” says her o’su.
“No!” says Violet. Then, “Yes!” Then, “Gods, this was so much easier when I was eleven!”
Her o’su actually does look up from his paperwork at that. Smiles at her, all big, that smile that knocked her sideways the first time she saw it, made her know he was going to be her dad forever. “I suppose a small walk wouldn’t be unreasonable,” he says.
Violet punches the air. Astarion says, “Oh, come now, what sort of lesson are you teaching her if you just cave to her every demand?”
“Likely the same lesson I’m teaching you by letting you lounge about in here while I’m supposed to be working,” says Violet’s o’su, mouth twitching.
“I am not a CHILD,” says Astarion, outraged.
“Very convincing!” says Violet. Astarion throws a pastry from the desk at her and she dances back, laughing.
directly the fault of a convo i was having with @thecubspeaks -- flash fic about shadowheart post canon, in a timeline where it's her and marigold endgame romance.
a curveball i know but i am now seriously and kind of obsessively considering it. shadowheart would LOVE adopting marigold's daughter and working in a family bakery. she would THRIVE.
Sofie is sitting on the roof. Shadowheart feels a twinge of affectionate exasperation. Perhaps it’s presumptuous of her to step so quickly into a maternal role, but really, with Marigold in charge of the little one for most of her life, Thea in charge of Marigold, and Jaheira so often somewhere else, there is absolutely no one to tell Sofie not to do things, so it feels both prudent and important for someone to take that role on—particularly someone who is so beautifully capitalizing on Sofie’s fascination with the macabre and strange.
Marigold has had to tell Sofie many times not to ask Shadowheart invasive and uncomfortable questions about her time as a Sharran. It’s the one line that Marigold actually does draw with Sofie, which always makes Shadowheart feel curiously warm. Of course she would muddle through as best she could if she knew how to, but the things she does remember—
Well. It’s complicated. As most things are.
“Sofie,” says Shadowheart, “get off the roof.”
Sofie turns and blinks a few times. It’s always a very funny experience, telling Sofie not to do things—she doesn’t seem to know how to react when it’s from Shadowheart. Chiding from Marigold’s sisters or Jaheira is either ignored or argued with, but Shadowheart appears to have a bit of goodwill stored up from her introduction to Sofie, back when she was black-haired and implicitly dangerous.
(She thinks she was very implicitly dangerous. Marigold says, laughingly, that she was adorable. Marigold, however, thinks Us is adorable, so Shadowheart takes this opinion with a grain of salt.)
“You’re going to overbalance,” says Shadowheart.
Sofie chews on her lip. She clearly doesn’t like the thought of giving in, but she also doesn’t seem exactly inclined to argue.
The expression on her face is so strikingly like her mother in that moment that Shadowheart feels an absurd, amused rush of love, and it’s a thousand different experiences with Marigold that inform what she says next. “We all know you’re perfectly capable of staying up on this roof by yourself if you like,” she assures Sofie, “but for my comfort, might you consider coming down? I’m still getting to know what makes you so different from all the other little elven girls who would fall off this roof.”
Sofie gives Shadowheart a small, sharp smile. “For your safety,” she says, and clambers carefully, deftly over to the window, graciously allowing Shadowheart to pick her up.
She’s very small. Only twelve, which means she can still fit on Shadowheart’s hip. If Shadowheart and Marigold spend the rest of their lives together, Sofie is going to spend the better part of a century being Shadowheart’s…is it too presumptuous to say “daughter,” this early? Marigold is so firmly rooted in this little girl’s heart. One of many things that Shadowheart and Sofie do seem to share.
Sofie is not complaining. This strikes Shadowheart abruptly and makes her feel…gods, too much. Sofie refuses to let anyone who isn’t a member of the family pick her up and carry her anywhere.
“Sofie?” she says, quietly, heart hammering.
Sofie presses her cheek into Shadowheart’s shoulder.
“I’d like to be your mother,” says Shadowheart. “If you’ll let me.”
Sofie says, “I have one o’si and one mumma, so mother is an open position.”
“Oh, gods, no, we’re not—please don’t call me mother,” says Shadowheart, a small chill running down her spine. “It’s not—” How to explain this to such a little girl? “No.”
Sofie considers this very seriously. She raises her head, staring at Shadowheart with an intensity that isn’t anything like Marigold, and says, “Did Mumma tell you about how my o’si died on the road?”
Shadowheart stares intensely back at Sofie. Something in her is blossoming. Painfully.
“I remember,” says Sofie, “because there was a lot of blood, and i’osi thought I was hurt, at first, but I wasn’t. It wasn’t fair, even. We didn’t even have anything that anyone would want. They just killed us because we were in the wrong place and it looked like we might have things, but we didn’t. My o’su had books. They tore them up and they laughed about it.”
She flattens her hand against Shadowheart’s shoulder. She says, “I’osi and Commander Jaheira said you had to kill your parents.”
“In front of you?” says Shadowheart, indignant more on Sofie’s behalf than her own.
Sofie gives her an are-you-stupid look. “No,” she says. “They just haven’t figured out my hiding place yet.”
“Which is?”
Sofie gives her an are-you-REALLY-stupid look. It occurs to Shadowheart that no daughter is ever inclined to give their mother an instruction manual. “Anyway,” she says, fingers tightening quietly around the beautiful fabric of the blouse that Marigold’s sister made, “I just wanted you to know that I know what it’s like. Seeing it. I didn’t do it, but sometimes it feels—I have bad dreams. Mumma sings to me.”
Shadowheart’s heart is too, too full.
“Does she sing to you?”
Marigold does have an extraordinarily sweet voice. Singing or speaking, it’s high and melodic like a bird, every octave higher or lower expressing something radically different. Shadowheart doesn’t have nightmares, exactly—her dreams are strange and fragmented, like swimming in darkness—but when she wakes up with her chest tight, Marigold is somehow always lying on her side, eyes half-open, reaching up to card her fingers through Shadowheart’s hair.
She’s always sort of wondered how Marigold learned to do that. Somehow this makes a lot of sense.
Shadowheart picks her favorite of Marigold’s songs. “The grass is just as green,” she sings, “the sky is just as blue—”
Sofie lets out this wobbly little laugh. She says, “So you are my mummy!” and it’s a good thing she hides her face in Shadowheart’s shoulder again, because the look on Shadowheart’s when those words hit home isn’t something she’s ready for anyone to see just yet.
•☽────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────☾•
Marigold finds them a few hours later, still curled up together. Shadowheart isn’t someone inclined to put something so small and trusting down, and Sofie, uncharacteristically, hasn’t moved, so they’ve just settled in the window while Shadowheart sings. She’s gone through all of Marigold’s little lullabies twice by the time she realizes they have an audience.
Softly, Marigold says, “I didn’t realize I sang to you enough for you to remember all of those so well.”
“I pay attention,” says Shadowheart. “Unlike some people.”
Sofie raises her head. She doesn’t launch into her usual tirade of mumma-look-at-me chatter, just stares up at Marigold, eyes a little glassy, and says, “I have two mums.”
“Mm.” Marigold leans down, tugging gently on Sofie’s braid.
“You can’t be jealous of mummy. You have to share.”
Shadowheart has to press her face into Sofie’s hair to hide a laugh. Marigold says, “Sofie, I’m not—”
“Well, I would be,” says Sofie, “because I am a very special little girl, and you’ve been my only mumma for a very long time, but you have to be able to share.”
This sounds suspiciously and almost exactly like a conversation that Shadowheart overheard between Jaheira and Sofie a few days ago, with a few words artfully altered for Sofie’s own purposes. She decides not to comment on this, if only because the expression on Marigold’s face is fucking hilarious. “Yes, Marigold,” she agrees sweetly. “It’s very important that you not be jealous of—”
Marigold kisses her in what is a transparent and slightly irritated attempt to shut her up, then kisses the top of Sofie’s head. “I am surrounded by horrible people,” she says.
“That’s family!” says Sofie brightly. Shadowheart finally surrenders to giggles.
