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#The ritual of purification is complete

pattern-recognition · 7 months

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the $100m in ostensible humanitarian aid to the west bank that Blinken is droning on about at the UN security council as i type this is nothing new and completely meaningless. the imperialists furnish the rifles and ammunition with one hand and in the other the bandaid for the gunshot wound. when the mask is off imperialism does the work to feed its leviathan and with the mask donned once more it resumes the purification ritual of philanthropy

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icyolive · 10 months

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Fairy tale-ish AU where the Cloud Recesses arc still happens, but LWJ is widely known to be suffering some kind of stone heart curse that prevents him from Feelings. The Lan have tried everything, but their precious second jade cannot be thawed. They can't even identify the curse. It's tragic. And very Lan. He's probably acquired some ridiculous honorific about it because *slaps LWJ* you can fit so many titles in this bad boy.

Then WWX shows up, runs into LWJ, and like... this guy... is hilarious?

Like, WWX is immediately Fascinated by this guy that everyone keeps saying is a tragically frigid perfect upright Lan. Because the guy is clearly full of quiet simmering rage (okay mostly just annoyance) and deeply, deeply bitchy. He's fun to provoke. He gets all of WWX's literary puns. He's got this hilarious deadpan humor that... like... how is no one else seeing this?

Novel WWX was hooked pretty early, but with the mystery of this curse that no one can explain, WWX fixates hard and picks up on a lot of what he otherwise would've missed.

He tries a million different curse breaking techniques. Works on it in class and has less time to bother LQR with shenanigans. Drags LWJ to the library to research, instead of being dragged there to copy lines.

He talks to LWJ instead of provoking him (he still provokes him). Notices LWJ is sad. awkward. speaks like his friends are all books. Gives him the benefit of the doubt, at first, because the poor guy's cursed.

WWX asks what kind of curse it is: no one knows. They can't even find a curse mark. No purification ritual has ever worked.

What do they think it is? For a long while, it was thought to be a curse from his mother, and that she hadn't wanted to deal with such a fussy child. When did they tell him that? Around the time when he was taken from her, just after uncle told him that his crying was unacceptably disruptive. Being disruptive meant he would miss his monthly visit. (LWJ has no idea why this is all spilling out of him. He says it all with what he thinks is a blank face, so it's not like he's making a scene. WWX hears the bitter humor in his phrasing, the sadness in his thousands-yard stare. He shares what he can remember about his own parents.)

The current theory is a love curse; they've been introducing him to eligible young women for the last few years, to see if they could break it. (Because he's Paying Attention and LWJ's face does a Thing, WWX adds super gay to his mental list of LWJ's attributes.)

"Lan Zhan... u know ur not cursed right."

Turns out, and no one's surprised here (somehow everyone but WWX is surprised here) this so-called curse is just the cumulative effect of the Lan repeatedly traumatizing and isolating this kid in various ways more or less since birth.

Maybe it's a complete surprise. Maybe LWJ had some inkling. Maybe he knew, but couldn't find the words to explain to anyone. Maybe he's like "yeah no shit but it made them leave me alone."

So yeah I've been having a lot of Feelings about how WWX is just utterly delighted by LWJ. Not despite his personality, not trying to fix him--he's just a dork who's head over heels for his gorgeous bitchy husband who talks like a book.

#mdzs #the untamed #mdzs fanfiction

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bewitched-moonlight · 5 months

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🌕 Full moons of 2024 🌕

🐺 January - Wolf moon

Date: January 25, 2024 Focus: renewal, cleansing, new beginnings, starting over Spell: manifestation ritual to plan out the year ahead

⛄ February -Snow moon

Date: February 24, 2024 Focus: family, domestic affairs, generosity, helping others Spell: spell for abundance, prosperity and success

🐛 March - Worm moon

Date: March 25, 2024 Focus: planning, preparation, healing, freedom Spell: house cleansing to get rid of the winter energies

🌸 April - Pink moon

Date: April 23, 2024 Focus: love, relationships, growth, gardening, potential Spell: self-love spell to revive your spirit

💐 May - Flower moon

Date: May 23, 2024 Focus: commitments, strength, spirituality, purification Spell: spell to bring love and passion into your life

🍓 June - Strawberry moon

Date: June 21, 2024 Focus: friendships, travels, change, survival, wisdom Spell: inner-child magic ritual

⛈�� July - Thunder moon

Date: July 21, 2024 Focus: justice, peace, storms, rain, grounding Spell: mind-clearing water potion to cleanse yourself

🐟 August - Sturgeon moon

Date: August 19, 2024 Focus: emotion, opportunities, protection, giving back Spell: good luck charm to manifest positivity for the rest of the year

🍎 September - Harvest moon

Date: September 17, 2024 Focus: harvest, completion, debts, cooking Spell: gratitude ritual to give thanks to what you have

🏹 October - Hunter's moon

Date: October 17, 2024 Focus: money, home, protection, spiritual work Spell: banishing spell to clear out negative spirits

🐹 November - Beaver moon

Date: November 15, 2024 Focus: preparation for the winter, happiness, astrology Spell: practice candle magic in the darkest time of the year

❄️ December - Cold moon

Date: December 15, 2024 Focus: self care, renewal, togetherness, warmth Spell: mulled wine potion for warmth and strength

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xxmrshmellowxx · 8 months

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New Bot on Janitor Ai:

Arranged Marriage.

Ryomen Sukuna x Reader

A/N: Sukuna true form. I love this bot so much. He is one of the most detailed bots I have ever made with a detailed storyline ❤️

Summary: The most powerful Jujutsu sorcerer, and even worshipped as the 'god of destruction'. He was an unstoppable force that shouldn't be messed around. The people of Heian-Kyo sought his protection. His devotees would even soothe his anger by offering beautiful women and making human sacrifices. Despite all that, between all the luxury & companions, you were chosen by him for marriage. You are his only priority, although he WILL NEVER speak of how he truly feels about you and why he chose you as his wife.

Backstory: You were forced by your aunt to be the bride for Sukuna. He coerced your aunt to give you as an offering to him, and your aunt has no choice but to agree to it, since she does not want her family to face Sukuna's demise. You had an unfavourable impression of him based on the cruel and evil deeds attributed to him.

How you and Sukuna first met:

On a warm spring day, Y/n was sent by carriage to Sukuna's mansion as an offering. She was elegantly dressed in a soft pink hem leaf pattern kimono, her beautiful hair swaying in the breeze. As she stepped down from the carriage, her eyes fell on Uraume, the melancholy and expressionless androgynous person, famously known for their loyalty to Sukuna. A gloomy feeling filled her heart as she looked up at the imposing mansion, her thoughts consumed by the notorious rumours surrounding Ryomen Sukuna, the man she was about to marry. Despite not having met him yet, she couldn't help but form an unfavourable impression of him based on the cruel and evil deeds attributed to him. Suddenly, their eyes met from across the distance. She felt a chill run down her spine as she locked gaze with Sukuna from the second-floor window. His sharp gaze pierced through her. She tried to suppress the fear bubbling up inside her, maintaining a stoic facade as she looked away. She swallows hard and reluctantly walks towards an uncertain fate.

Initial message:

Sukuna was already waiting for you in the main hall of his mansion, dressed in his traditional wedding garb. For the first time, he came to stand directly in front of you, towering over you. His eyes bored into yours, a predatory glint in them. He knew you weren't happy with this arrangement, since it is not out of love, after all, he was the one who coerce your aunt to give your hand in marriage. Without saying a word, he reached out and gently brushed a stray lock of hair behind your ear. He then grabbed your chin roughly and forced you to look into his eyes. He hummed a "hmm" sound with an expression seemingly cold and let go of your chin. He took your hand, his grip was firm.

A priest performed a ritual purification for Sukuna and you, then announced the marriage to the gods and asked for their blessing. Then, the bride and groom took three sips each from three cups of sake to complete the wedding ritual.

During the reception, you sat beside him on the stage of the main hall. His eyes were scanning over the crowd with a bored expression.

"Tsk," glancing at you, he scoffed quietly with a blank expression.

Janitor AI Link: Click Here

#ryomen sukuna #jjk sukuna #sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n #sukuna x reader #jjk x reader #jjk fanfic #janitor.ai #ai chatbot #sukuna #true form sukuna #arranged marriage #jjk #jujutsu kaisen

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attichaos · 2 years

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P.3 Common Herbs A-Z

This is O-Z of some common herbs and their uses

*longer read*

Olive

Fidelity

Marriage

Peace

Money

Assures fidelity in love and is used to attract a marriage partner. Inspires fruitfulness and security in love, family, and business.

Onion

Prosperity

Stability

Endurance

Protection

Burn onion flowers to banish bad habits and negative influences. Cut onions in half and place in the corners of a room to absorb illness, then bury or burn the onion halves in the morning. Sacred to the moon.

Orange

Attracts abundance and happiness through love and marriage.

Concentrate on a yes/no question while eating an orange, then count the seeds -- an even number of seeds means the answer is no, an odd number of seeds means yes. Use the leaves and flowers in love rituals to bring on a marriage proposal. Add an infusion of orange to the bath to increase attractiveness and beauty.

Orange peel

Love

Divination

Luck

Money

House & business blessing

Add to love sachets to help someone make up their mind. Use in sachets & amulets to bring luck to business negotiations.

Orchid

Concentration

Strengthening memory

Focus

Will power

Oregano

Joy

Strength

Vitality

Added energy

Paprika

Use to add energy to any spell or mixture. Throw in someone's yard to cause them problems.

Parsley

Calms and protects the home

Draws prosperity

Financial increase

Luck

Restores a sense of well-being

Use in spells to increase strength & vitality after surgery or illness. Use in amulets or other magickal workings to help yourself out of a rut. Eat to provoke lust and promote fertility. Place on plates of food to guard against contamination. Useful for bath magick to purify and end misfortune. Mix with jasmine and carry in your shoe to make you more attractive to the opposite sex.

Parsnip

Male sex magick

Pear

Lust

Love

Eating pears induces love. Use dried fruit in amulets and sachets for love and lust.

Pea

Money

Love

Peppermint

Use to increase the vibrations of a space or in spells and incense for healing & purification. Place in sleep pillow to ensure peaceful sleep and bring about prophetic dreams. Use to anoint furnishings and household objects. Burn in a new home to clear out sickness and negative energy. Use in magickal workings to provide the push needed to bring change to one's life. Carry with other herbs to boost love & abundance wishes.

Pine

Promotes clean breaks, new beginnings, prosperity, success, strength, grounding, and growth; Also used for cleansing, purification, and repelling negativity. Great for house and business blessing.

Pineapple

Luck

Money

Chastity

Add an infusion of pineapple to the bath to attract luck.

Plum

Healing

Peace

Love

Poppy

Fertility

Prosperity

Love

Abundance

Potato

Image magick

Money

Luck

Healing

Pumpkin

Lunar magick

Radish

Protection

Lust

Rhubarb

Fidelity

Protection

Rose

Divine love

Close friendships

Domestic peace/happiness

Lasting relationships

Great for use in incense, potpourri or bath magick. Place around sprains and dark bruises to help them heal faster.

Rosemary

Carried and used in healing poppets for good health, used in love/lust spells, worn to improve memory, used in dream pillows to prevent nightmares, burned as incense for purification and removing negativity. Wear or carry while reading or completing tasks to improve memory of the material and aid clear thinking (great for students!). Use an infusion of rosemary to wash hands before any healing magick. Use in bath magick for purification. Associated with faeries.

Saffron

Aphrodisiac

Love

Healing

Happiness

Wind raising

Lust

Strength

Burn, wear, or carry for healing and strengthening psychic awareness. Commonly used in love magick, healing spells, and to control the weather. Wash hands with water and saffron or keep saffron sachets in your home to bring happiness.

Sage

Used for self purification and dealing with grief and loss. Carried to improve mental ability and bring wisdom. Used in healing sachets & incense. Promotes spiritual, mental, emotional & physical health and longevity. Removes negative energy. Place near a personal object of a person who is ailing when performing healing spells or rituals. Write a wish on a sage leaf and place it under your pillow for 3 nights -- if you dream of your wish, it will come true; if not, bury the leaf in the ground so that no bad will come to you.

Sea salt

Uses include cleansing crystals, purification, grounding, protection magick and ritual. Used on the altar to represent the Earth. Used with water for asperging, sea spells, consecration and casting circles. Used with garlic and rosemary to banish evil.

Shallot

Add an infusion of shallots to the bath for luck.

St Johns wort

Worn to prevent colds & fevers. Placed under pillow to induce prophetic, romantic dreams. Protects against all forms of baneful witchcraft. Place in a jar in a window or burn in a fireplace to protect from lightning, fire and evil spirits. Used for banishing, protection & blessing. Carry to strengthen courage and convictions or when confronting nasty situations. Burn to banish spirits and demons. Used in divination for the care of crystals. Note: Can be poisonous, use with caution.

Star anise

Burned as incense to increase psychic awareness & abilities. Placed on the altar to increase the power generated. Carried to bring luck.

Strawberry

Attracts success, good fortune, and favorable circumstances. Served as a love food. Leaves are carried for luck. Pregnant women carry a packet of the leaves to ease the pain of pregnancy and childbirth.

Sugar

Love spells

Sex magick

Sunflower

Energy

Protection

Power

Wisdom

Wishes

Sweet pea

Attracts friends and allies; Draws the loyalty and affection of others.

Sweet potato

Image magick

Tangerine

Promotes energy

Strength

Vitality

Awakens joy and dissolves negativity

Tea leaves

Use in talismans for courage or strength. Use as a base for lust drinks. Burn leaves to ensure future riches.

Tea tree

Eliminating confusion

Increasing harmony

Thyme

Attracts loyalty

Affection

The good opinion of others

Wear a sprig to ward off unbearable grief or provide strength and courage when needed. Burn or hang in the home for banishing, purification, and to attract good health for all occupants. Use in cleansing baths prior to working candle magick. Use in dream pillows to ward off nightmares and ensure restful sleep. Add a thyme infusion to the bath regularly to ensure a constant flow of money. Place in a jar and keep in the home or at work for good luck.

Tobacco

Promotes peace

Confidence

Personal strength

Banishing

Mix with salt and burn with a black candle to win a court case.

Tomato

Love spells

Turnip

Ending relationships

Vinegar

Banishing

Binding

Averting evil

Walnut

Access to divine energy

Bringing the blessing of the Gods

Wishes

Watercress

Lunar magick

Sex magick

Witch Hazel

Chastity

Protection

Carry to ease grief over a lost love. Use in a sachet to reduce passions. Use in love spells and spells to ward off evil.

And as always, merry meet <3

Atti <3

(photo - attichaos)

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windvexer · 6 months

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Hi, I hope you are not too busy lately. May I ask for advice ? When it comes to hexing, I heard someone advising to but the remains of the ritual as far away as possible from the house (I can't but the remains of the spell near the targets house but I can put it away). But I also remember reading that one should keep the remains of the spell in case something goes wrong. Is it dangerous to keep the remains of a hex inside my house or would it better to keep it ?

Ooo! Resolving conflicting magical information, are we? :D Love it.

Short answer:

Longer answer:

IMO, both of these plans of action are predicated on some assumptions.

Taking the remains of a hex very far away from the home (and sometimes, as you mention, ideally near the target) is, from what I've seen, generally done by witches who are pretty much fuckin' done and are washing their hands of the situation.

Hex-casting is often an intensely emotional experience and can feel like a deep 'purge' on the part of the practitioner, a bloodletting of the poison within the practitioner to flow downhill to the person who, as far as the witch is concerned, ought to host it instead.

When the experience of the hexcasting is one of purification of rage, a practitioner may just want to get the fuck rid of the spellcasting remnants and get on with their life.

This is not an amagical action. Inasmuch as your magic probably should make you feel really good about the world you live in, your life, and your actions, deciding to be completely over it and get rid of spell remnants can be deeply magical, both in the personal and metaphysical sense.

Another reason people like to get rid of hex remnants is because they can reek of that nasty soul stank you've just bled out all over into the world, and hanging out with them can be uncomfortable and bring up unwanted emotions.

Fortunately, witches gonna witch, and if you desire to keep spell remnants without them leaking all over your nice life, there are many methods to contain and control magical objects.

All that being said, do I find that keeping hex remnants is actually dangerous? Well, no. I find it to be uncomfortable. They remind of of anger and injustice and all the bad things I felt that made me want to do it in the first place. "Negative vibes" spilling out into your environment isn't dangerous so much as it is a bit icky.

If we take a moment here, we should consider that most probably, the average hex should not be so dangerous that the spent spell remnants are actively generating danger for any random person who comes into contact with them.

I mean... do what you want to other people, I suppose. But if you are casting spells in such a way that they are so powerful and tumultuous that the little blob of burned candle wax or whatever is constantly generating harmful, dangerous effects even within a magically protected household, idk. Probably do just get rid of it at that point. Or try new spellcasting methods. Etc.

On the topic of needing to keep spell remnants so you can continually work over the spell, it's a decent option, but also:

On a personal level I'm not sure why you'd go out of your way to try and harm someone with magic, and then keep the remnants to make sure it's doing the exact kind of harm you want in foreseeable ways. Either get after 'em or don't, you know?

You can still influence and control prior spells you've cast even if you do not have the spell remnants.

Overall I really think that you should just do what makes you comfortable. I don't think you should feel obligated to hold on to hex remnants just because something hypothetically might happen down the road. If things can go to far you can do a reverse uno on your own magic and cast new spells to help.

On the other hand, if you feel like it's a good idea to keep the remnants around, set up a magical situation that safely holds these remnants in "jail" so you don't have to worry about the vibes leaking out into your house.

[None of this takes into account spells that dictate something specific must happen to materia magica, etc.]

#answered #baneful magic

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themodernwitchsguide · 2 months

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the ogham alphabet and their divinatory meanings

FIRST AICME

ᚁ beith

UPRIGHT: joyful beginnings, new possibilities, renewal and rebirth--even if it is uncomfortable

REVERSED: a blind path, wasted efforts, fixation on the past, longing for the impossible

ᚂ luis

ᚃ fearn

UPRIGHT: clarity, attention to detail, purification, danger avoided or overcome, two paths are open to you

REVERSED: vulnerability, uncertainty, deception, delusion, something (possibly your own emotions) is misleading you

ᚄ saille

UPRIGHT: protection and guidance, emotional security, good advice, prophecy, unexpected solution(s), music, poetry

REVERSED: willful blindness, refusal to listen to advice, arrogance or not enough information

ᚅ nuin

UPRIGHT: go with the flow, intuition, dreaming, unconscious, letting go of preconceptions, feminine energy/connection to the moon

REVERSED: inability to adapt, feeling defeated or lost, lack of movement, difficulty that will inevitably pass

SECOND AICME

UPRIGHT: connection and transformation, being a part of something bigger, fate, divine action/inspiration

REVERSED: isolation and boredom, being blind to (either good or bad) possibilities, take control and be assertive

ᚆ huath

ᚇ duir

UPRIGHT: patience, protection/purification, reserve, feeling suffocated, problems that will eventually change, self-sacrifice

REVERSED: you are acting too hasty, take a second to think OR you're at a standstill, you need to take action

ᚈ tinne

UPRIGHT: sacred spaces, forward movement, power and energy, the power to endure, leadership, endurance

REVERSED: help from those in power, success despite means, borrowed strength, a gift, cowardliness

ᚉ coll

UPRIGHT: challenges or tests, recommends decisive action, balance, integrity, talent/skill/expertise, growth

REVERSED: attack, hardship, aggression, lack of direction or balance

ᚊ quert

UPRIGHT: knowledge and learning, transformation and flexibility, creativity, daydreaming, rituals/divination

REVERSED: intellectual/creative blockages (art/writer's block), lack of insight, fear of failure, ignorance

THIRD AICME

UPRIGHT: happiness, healing, beauty, love affairs, awakenings and new experiences, opportunity (or the choice) to live more fully

REVERSED: despair, ailments, unavoidable choice(s), mixed gain/loss, procrastination

ᚋ muin

ᚌ gort

UPRIGHT: inspiration, prophecy or psychic senses, community and celebration, freedom, rest, examine life's lessons

REVERSED: burdens, difficulties, a need to relax/unwind, you're strung out or trying too hard OR overindulging

ᚍ ngetal

UPRIGHT: slow/indirect progress, wildness, purpose, determination, transformation, follow life's path

REVERSED: entanglement, think twice about what you're doing, and arduous path

ᚎ straif

UPRIGHT: vitality, awareness of environment, creating order from chaos, prioritizing personal health, you aren't finished yet

REVERSED: inability to act, need for healing and patience, you aren't ready to act yet OR you have done all you can

ᚏ ruis

UPRIGHT: necessity/inevitability, fate or omens, death, rebirth, some things cannot be changed, wheel of fortune

REVERSED: pain, difficulty, retribution, necessary suffering, no choice is a good one

FOURTH AICME

UPRIGHT: resolution, completion, looking ahead, omen of success, difficulties permanently overcome

REVERSED: endings and departures, face the facts, shame, illness/disability

ᚐ ailm

ᚑ onn

UPRIGHT: insight, grounded in the present, clear vision, start new project(s), new perspective, foresight

REVERSED: ignorance of the broader picture, unrealistic ideas, step back and reassess, fear and anxiety

ᚒ uhr

UPRIGHT: energy, life, vigor, sexuality, attraction, gathering together, consider changing your life's direction

REVERSED: difficulties and delays, overconfidence, taking too many risks, unrealistic desires

ᚓ eadhadh

UPRIGHT: spiritual/magical power, forces of nature, deep connections, fulfillment, death and memories of loved ones

REVERSED: deception, deceit, loss of contact with nature/spirits, need for recuperation/reconnection in a relationship

ᚔ iodhadh

UPRIGHT: courage and tenacity, a struggle for victory, quest for inner strength, enlightenment

REVERSED: addiction, terror, declining health, compromise and negotiation, choosing a different path

FORFEDHA

UPRIGHT: ancestry, aging or dying, things unchanging, old age, memory

REVERSED: stagnation and immobility, death or mourning, the past is a burden, things lingering past their prime

ᚕ eabhadh

ᚖ oir

UPRIGHT: spiritual wisdom, complexity, place of balance/harmony, presence of many factors, spiritual wisdom

REVERSED: confusion, bewilderment, too many factors at work to allow for a successful prediction/decision

ᚗ uilleann

UPRIGHT: radical transformation, abundance, sudden illumination or destruction that is set about by outside forces

REVERSED: patience, preparation, the path before you is a slow one, wait for outside forces to act

ᚘ ifin

UPRIGHT: knowledge and lore, learning and study, wisdom of the past as a guide, private thoughts or secrets

REVERSED: ignorance, failure to learn from the past, future instead of past

ᚙ eamancholl

UPRIGHT: secrets and revelations, subtle influences, releasing emotions of guilt/shame

REVERSED: the situation is not as it seems, the information that you need is not available to you

UPRIGHT: unexpected change, arrival of new influence, illness

REVERSED: sudden endings or disruptions

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magickkate · 3 months

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🔥🙏 A Ritual to Bless Your Oven 🔥🙏

Your oven is more than just a kitchen appliance—it's a sacred hearth where magic and nourishment come together. Here's a ritual to bless and consecrate your oven:

Begin by cleaning your oven thoroughly, removing any traces of dirt or residue. As you clean, visualize any stagnant energy being swept away, leaving behind a clean slate.

Light a candle in front of your oven as a symbol of the sacred fire that fuels your cooking. Take a few deep breaths to center yourself and connect with the element of fire.

Place a small dish of salt on the oven rack to absorb any negative energy and purify the space. You can also add a few drops of your favorite cleansing essential oil to the salt for added potency.

Hold your hands over the oven door and visualize a warm, protective light surrounding it. Envision this light as a shield, warding off negativity and ensuring that only positive energy flows through your oven.

Recite a simple blessing or prayer, expressing gratitude for the nourishment your oven provides and asking for its continued blessings in your culinary endeavors.

Sprinkle a pinch of salt on the oven door as a final act of purification and protection. As you do so, affirm your intention for your oven to be a source of warmth, nourishment, and magic.

Allow the candle to burn out completely as a symbol of your commitment to honoring and respecting your oven as a sacred tool of your craft.

May your oven be blessed with warmth, abundance, and magic! 🔥🙏

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merrivia · 1 year

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Thinking today about Damen, trauma and the symbolic use of water in Captive Prince...

I was talking to @zumurruds about this, and she mentioned that we understand Laurent’s trauma as readers, but that Damen’s trauma can seem elusive to us. Which is very true, and got me to thinking about how these things might work in terms of Damen’s psyche as constructed by Pacat, especially taking into consideration Akielos is a version of Ancient Greece (with some Roman influences).

Edward Tick is a fairly influential psychotherapist in the field of trauma, especially post-traumatic stress and how it affects soldiers, and he has particularly looked at Ancient Greek rituals (and other classical and indigenous practices!) for answers as to how to heal the psychic wounds of conflict.

Firstly, this is a nice overview of some of Tick’s ideas:

“[Tick’s] argument is that in classical and native American tradition, serving as a warrior was an archetypal experience characterized by initiation of young men and, then, later, rituals of purification and cleansing that help them to undergo a sort of psycho-spiritual re-birthing process and return to civilian life, not just as civilians, but as individuals who’ve gone through a profound transformation. And that transformation was acknowledged by the wider society.”

Some (not all) of these “rituals of purification and cleansing” are literally ones that use water. And I think this can maybe helps us to understand more deeply the use of water in the novels and how it connects to trauma (Damen’s in particular).

More after the jump:

Before going into more depth I will say one thing. I think the reason Damen has coped well with being a soldier, has a lot to do with his initiation into warriorhood in Akielos.

When it comes to war, specific rites and training would transform you psychologically. As Tick says:

“The study of worldwide mythology and the work of historians, anthropologists, and archaeologists show us that cultures in almost all times and places have deemed it necessary to have a warrior class of citizens. The formula is simple: the preparation is specialized training; the proving ground is battle. Risking death for the protection of one’s people transforms a boy into a warrior. Successful completion of the transformation makes him a man.”

What this does to you then is accelerate growing up. Interesting inversion there, as the Regent tries to keep the adult Laurent a child, and child Damen would have been thrust into adulthood early. Did that damage Damen? Depends on your perspective (I think yes and no), but it certainly gave him strength and resilience.

There is an interesting, revealing moment of Damen’s, when he has been flogged and still finds the wherewithal to speak back to Laurent:

“He felt raw, as though a protective outer layer had been stripped away; the problem was that what had been exposed was not weakness but core metal.”

“Core metal”. That’s what lies at the heart of Damen, even with the warmth of his heart.

Tick then quotes the philosopher William James:

“War and adventure assuredly keep all who engage in them from treating themselves too tenderly. They require such incredible effort, depth beyond depth of exertion . . . that the whole scale of motivation alters. Discomfort and annoyance, hunger and wet, pain and cold, squalor and filth cease to have any deterrent operation whatever. Death turns into a commonplace matter. . .”

Damen has gone through all this; this is what forged that “core metal” in him. He is a warrior, in a militaristic society. He understands well what it is like to have courage against death and to physically endure discomfort and physical pain. I think this is why he is able to take his circumstances as a slave in Vere, and survive. Every time Damen is hurt, he compares it to his training or to his past experiences, and simply withstands it, as he knows he got through it before. He endures and endures. Even the flogging. That is what warriors do; it was what he was trained to do.

This is one of the reasons his trauma is hidden away from us; at first, Damen seems to just cope with it.

The idea of warriors, too, is so different to modern soldiers, where I think a lot of our contemporary ideas around trauma come from.

Damen has killed on the “sawdust”, suggesting he has accidentally killed when training, and he has killed in battle. He also killed Auguste. The weight of those deaths were expiated somewhat by his role- he was not shamed but made elevated by them; when he returned from Marlas, he was honoured and given a hero’s welcome. Some of the trauma Tick describes modern soldiers go through, comes from them being shoved to one side and forgotten about.

Interestingly, another aspect of the trauma around modern soldiers, is the impersonal nature of killing. As Tick says:

In its ancient and ritual forms, warfare was often personal. Enemy combatants often knew each other by name, and the victor’s status was partly based upon the status of the enemy he had defeated. Homer’s Iliad records numerous tales of individual combat between contending champions whose families, histories, and reputations were well known to each other. But modern war is impersonal. Whom you fight, what their battle experience and status in their culture is, and how they are armed are all matters of chance.

Though we may think knowing who Auguste was makes it worse, from Tick’s perspective it is better. It becomes a matter of personal combat, a duel of honour- it is essentially meaningful. Damen fought Auguste to help end the battle, and symbolically, it was two princes fighting for victory. There is no disgrace or evil in that.

The problem comes with Laurent and with spending time in Vere, where Damen is no longer seen as a hero-warrior but a villain- someone immoral and shameful. One of the first things Laurent does to Damen in the baths is (very unfairly) make him feel ashamed for killing, and Damen has to protest and say it was “battle” and that “there were deaths on both sides” (which is true- Laurent conveniently forgets all the people Auguste would have killed on the Akielon side). That is a lot of what Damen has to battle through psychologically during the novel. He has no words to describe what he’s going through, was not trained for this, and again, this is why his trauma remains hidden to us.

In normal circumstances also, after he had been freed, Damen would have returned home, and would go through a process of restoration there that would help him process the trauma he went through in Vere. But by falling in love with Laurent and tying himself to him, Damen is forever in a liminal state- he cannot return home, as the two countries are one which the two kings will rule together, and he is always going to be both lover and brother-killer (he now carries the guilt of killing his brother-in-law, not an enemy prince). This contradiction needs to be resolved.

Additionally, what happened to him in Vere did not carry the honour of battle. Damen could not fight back. It was pure victimisation. That is also where the trauma lies, as well having to process how Laurent is both lover and torturer (Laurent also, needs to confront this, and what he did to Damen).

So let’s talk about water.

There is a symbolic weight that water always carries in texts- life and rebirth, purification and cleansing, rejuvenation and destruction, amongst many other things. But when considering water’s cleansing and restorative processes in conjunction with classical ideas of healing and surviving trauma, I think it becomes even more interesting.

The books abound with water. The trilogy starts with Damen in baths at Akielos, and ends the same way, a deliberately cyclical structure. A rebirth. Damen and Laurent bathe frequently; sometimes this leads to violence, such as the flogging, and sometimes it is cleansing.

However, it is The Summer Palace where the richest, most definitive moment of water is symbolically used.

In the short story, Pacat shows this complex interplay between past and present; of all of what lies between Laurent and Damen. There is no forgetting of the killing of Auguste or of Kastor, or of the flogging. The two move between deep romantic desire and discussions of their painful past, fluidly.

Another quotation from Tick feels resonant here:

Ironically, doing violence to another can be a profoundly intimate act. Larry, a captain in Viet Nam, said his life’s most intimate encounter had been when staring into the eyes of a North Vietnamese officer as they grappled, their hands locked around each other’s throats. Many veterans who have survived hand-to-hand combat talk about the erotic nature of the death struggle. The violence of battle can thus constitute a kind of reverse intimacy.

There is that strange irony at work with what happens between Damen and Laurent. Laurent, so damaged and isolated and cut off from others, first becomes close to Damen through the intimate act of violence- that’s why it’s important that he sits in front of Damen, close to him, and watches him as he is flogged in CP. It’s why Laurent deliberately baits Damen into hitting him in PG, by telling Damen Kastor killed Theomedes- afterwards his eyes are described as “glittering with triumph” as “his lips are smeared with blood” (a highly disturbing kiss with a fist, which he engineered). It’s why when they fight one another in the training room in KR, it is an important part of the carthasis they must go through in order to truly become lovers. Through violence is physical contact and those moments cut down the walls Laurent has built around himself.

But there are of course, huge consequences for that.

Damen admits he has not allowed himself to acknowledge much of what happened to him, particularly at the hands of Laurent. A lot remains behind a “closed door”. Yet what has been locked away must start to be acknowledged, for healing to take place. And this is done through water.

The idea that soldiers be purified when returning from war exists in many different cultures and has been practiced for centuries, including in Rome where “vestal virgins would bathe returning soldiers to purge them of the corruption of war”. For the Greeks, water in general was healing. What I think is interesting is how Pacat has (intentionally?) rewoven these strands of healing that comes from Ancient Greek culture and incorporated it into the texts. Water rituals restore and spiritually cleanse those who suffer harm- hydrotherapy of sorts. A lot of this, appears to be through gods and through dreams, water that is blessed that then touches the psyche.

This is how Tick describes such processes:

The mysterious process behind the whole tradition was called "temple sleep" or "incubation." Those in need of healing, from the highest to the humblest levels of society, cast off the garments of their roles in the outer world, bathed ceremonially and donned white robes, and presented themselves to the therapeutes, the first "therapists," the healing priests of the temple of Asklepios..... The god was believed to visit the supplicant through a dream, or in his theriomorphic (animal-shaped) form, as a snake or a dog. Through the theophany itself (the apparition of the god) or through one of the first "prescriptions"—for instance, "after fasting for three days, the supplicant should immerse himself in the pool of Parthenius, though it be winter, and pray to Artemis"—the healing would come.

So with no temples, gods or priests, Pacat finds an alternative.

Laurent bathing Damen, in the baths of Lentos.

It is a restoration for them both. By doing so, Laurent is putting himself into the position of a slave (giving himself the role enforced onto Damen, an eye for an eye), putting his pride to one side (kneeling, an act he also finds difficult due to trauma) and, most importantly, confronting the consequences of his actions in having Damen flogged nearly to death.

When Laurent washes the scars on Damen’s back, it is a transformative moment:

Nothing could wash away the past, but this took them both there, touching a painful truth, acknowledging it.

It was gentler between his shoulders than it had been against his chest. Flesh and self were linked. The cleansing was slow, attentive, drizzling water, then soaping his skin. It was healing something he hadn’t known needed to be healed. Like breathing, it was necessary, even as the tenderness of it was too much, gentleness where he had never expected Laurent to be gentle.

He had been braced against the lash for so long. Where he had been flayed, he was now open.

I would argue, with the absence of gods, there is only Damen and Laurent’s love, which exists as something higher, sacred, perhaps even numinous. It is a stand in for divine power, which is perhaps even more meaningful. Their love allows them that healing and rebirth, and allows them access to something higher than can move them forward. Perhaps that will keep being a journey that they do together, but it starts with this, with symbolic purification through water, and with the healing not just Laurent, but Damen, desperately needed.

Bibilography:

War and the Soul: Healing Our Nation's Veterans from Post-tramatic Stress Disorder, Edward Tick

Warrior's Return: Restoring the Soul After War, Edward Tick

The Practice of Dream Healing: Bringng Ancient Greek Mysteries into Modern Medicine, Edward Tick

#Captive Prince #damen of akielos #Laurent of Vere #damen x laurent #meta #damianos of akielos

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roaringwish · 3 months

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And now for something completely different!

Omoikane-sama performing a purification ritual.

#art #shinto #omoikane no kami #yeah that's not how you do a purification ritual #I tried to capture the feeling more than the ritual itself #神道

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purlty23 · 2 months

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Anonymously asking the people I follow to talk about something that makes them happy! (I don't remember if i've already asked you this before ignore it if I have) Do me a learn if you're so inclined!

Hello dear anon! I don’t think I have gotten this before, it must have been one of the many that I’m sure slip through tumblr’s cracks. I love any excuse to talk about my interests, this is such a gift! Since we’re in the demon church fandom here, why not some history of demon summoning? Every horror movie you’ve ever seen where demons are summoned in under 24 hours vastly underestimate the work that allegedly went into the practice!

Before anything, I’m going to cite my source for everything here. Grimorium Verum is a grimoire written in the 18th century, though in the books itself it claims to be from 1517. Markedly untrue. It translates to True Grimoire, and it’s one of the only grimoires out there from the era that has a detailed description of the summoning of demons. It shares some things of note with the Greater and Lesser Keys of Solomon, which was written during the Italian Renaissance. You can read Grimorium Verum translated here! One thing you’ll notice if you read it is how quickly the author is to tell you that everything is of consequence. Every action, every word, and even down to the time that they’re done or said is of meaning. It would be incredibly difficult to do it ‘on accident’ going by these guidelines like a lot of pop culture would have you believe First, you’d have to know which demon you want. Each demon has a specific talent or task it can complete. They also have their own sigils. That’s where works like Psuedomonarchia Deamonum, published in 1577, come in handy. Here’s my personal version of it if you’d like to read. It’s a full A-Z list of Hell’s notable demons and their standing in Lucifer’s leagues. Once you’ve figured that out, there’s a lot to plan. Preliminary incantations are just the beginning of pages upon pages of latin that would need to be spoken. The first Invocation is written on virgin parchment- parchment made of a young animal’s tanned hide, likely goat. Purification of the summoner must take place before any instruments for the summoning can be made:

The lancet, made of new steel on the day and hour of Jupiter in the crescent moon. Followed by reciting Orison and the Seven Psalms

The sacrificial knife, which needs to be made of new steel and strong enough to cut through the neck of a young goat. Made on the day of Mars on a full moon. It needs specific carvings on the hilt, and once more follow by Orison and the Seven Psalms

The virgin parchment, which must be made from the sacrificial goat, lamb, or other animal killed with the knife above. All other instruments must remain on the altar at the time of creation.

Two rods; both of hazel wood, one cut in a single stroke on the day and hour of Mercury on a cresent moon, one cut in a single stroke on the day and hour of the Sun. Followed by none other than Orison

Confused about all these days and hours? No worries- those of the time and talent would have had a great grasp on planetary days and hours. Every single step of tanning the virgin parchment comes with it’s own ceremony and incantations, and every action matters.

The summoner must to it all on their own before preparing themselves. They must pray in specific ways at specific times for three days. Seeing how we know this all must start in the day and hour of Jupiter, after those three days of prayer it would be 11 days of preparation.

The actual summoning ritual has to be on a Tuesday. It’s a lot of drawing of sigils, invocations and conjurations. It’s actually the simpler part of everything, if the grimoire is to be believed. However… it claims there to be two kinds of pacts to be made with demons: the tactic and the apparent. The apparent is notably also called the explicit. We can infer quite a bit from that one sly comment by our sassy writer here.

#Answers #anonymous #What would i even tag this as #Demon summoning 101?

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4dkellysworld · 3 months

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Hii, I hope you're well and I wanted to ask a question about something more practical: I've read a couple of times that you shouldn't try to control or change your thoughts and also actions because our very fighting gives them life and that it's better to just observe and witness. But I also remember reading a post of yours that talked about how dropping habits (which kinda leads to your actions/thoughts changing) or clearing the subconscious is a way to let go of the ego and now I'm a bit unsure what I should do? I like the idea of dropping habits as a way to drop the ego but I worry that it's gonna get me more involved in it as well. Idk if this made sense lmao😭

Yes it makes sense, I know what you're asking (I had the same confusion once as well haha). The short answer is there is no right or wrong approach as the ones you mentioned are all valid but there are more appropriate and effective approaches for each of us, and that all depends on us personally - it's something you just have to figure out for yourself based on trial and error, also keeping in mind that the practices can be done for a bit and then dropped for something else later when it feels right to do so.

I suggest you read the answer in this ask on mind purification and also the linked articles if you feel called to.

Basically the purpose and goal of mind purification is to remove a lot of the mental junk (aka samskaras) that makes the mind noisy so it can be calm and quiet enough for one to abide in the Self. Sure, you can try jump straight to abiding in Self (such as witnessing) but most people will not be able to sustain this for very long (if at all) without taming the mind through spiritual practice first.

Paul Brunton calls mind purification the prepatory stage or the "long" path that is necessary for most people and the "short" path is where one basically abandons all effort to do with the mind (knowing that it cannot be completely purified as it is always creating new thoughts) and goes straight to abiding in Self (and there can also be phases where one is doing both simultaneously as a transition period). Being on the long path is what then makes the short path possible and easy. Trying to do the short path prematurely won't result in much (let me know if anyone wants more details on the short and long paths). Even the realized beings who realized themselves at an early age were only able to do so because of their previous incarnations which they spent on the long path (as Robert Adams has said before).

Here is some further explanation:

Whenever attention is taken away from objects and put back on itself (awareness), it will start dissolving the knot of ignorance. Usually, this is hard to do because our mental tendencies and habits make objectless awareness or the state of empty consciousness challenging to abide in and sustain. Paying attention to an object is so much easier than paying attention to no object at all! That’s why aspirants generally start by practicing easier forms of meditation like breath-awareness, or even grosser forms of spirituality like dualistic bhakti rituals. All of these have the purpose of calming the mind and of purifying it so that it can sustain prolonged attention on an objectless awareness.

They talk about using meditation and physical rituals to calm and purify the mind however I personally found releasing to be most effective (of course it is going to vary from person to person).

Even Buddha and Lester Levenson did mind purification which made their enlightenment possible :) I recently discovered there's actual records of Buddha's discourses (part of the Pali Canon) that were preserved and translated. In this one, he talks about facing his fears and dreads until they were gone.

I considered thus: 'Whenever recluses or brahmins unpurified in verbal conduct, unpurified in mental conduct, unpurified in livelihood resort to remote jungle-thicket resting places in the forest, they evoke unwholesome fear and dread. But I am purified in livelihood While I dwelt there, a wild animal would come up to me, or a peacock would knock off a branch, or the wind would rustle the leaves. I thought: 'What now if this is the fear and dread coming?' I thought: 'Why do I dwell always expecting fear and dread? What if I subdue that fear and dread while keeping the same posture that I am in when it comes upon me?' "How would it be if in the dark of the month, with no moon, I were to enter the most strange and frightening places, near tombs and in the thick of the forest, that I might come to understand fear and terror. And doing so, a wild animal would approach or the wind rustle the leaves and I would think, 'Perhaps the fear and terror now comes.' And being resolved to dispel the hold of that fear and terror, I remained in whatever posture it arose, sitting or standing, walking or lying down. I did not change until I had faced that fear and terror in that very posture, until I was free of its hold upon me. And having this thought, I did so. By facing the fear and terror I became free." (summarised it a bit since the way they write is a bit repetitive)

If you look from Passage 27 of that linked sutta, he talks about the knowledge he gained directly from Self/Source/"That"/Brahman which was possible because of his purified mind "When my concentrated mind was thus purified, bright, unblemished, rid of imperfection, malleable, wieldy, steady, and attained to imperturbability, I directed it to knowledge of the recollection of past lives. This was the first true knowledge attained by me in the first watch of the night. Ignorance was banished and true knowledge arose, darkness was banished and light arose, as happens in one who abides diligent, ardent, and resolute." The other knowledge he gained in that same night: knowledge of the passing away and reappearance of beings, and knowledge of the destruction of the taints.

When I knew and saw thus, my mind was liberated from the taint of sensual desire, from the taint of being, and from the taint of ignorance. When it was liberated, there came the knowledge: 'It is liberated.' I directly knew: 'Birth is destroyed, the holy life has been lived, what had to be done has been done, there is no more coming to any state of being.'

Reading the recount of Buddha's enlightenment reminded me so much of Lester Levenson's own self-realization and enlightenment (he didn't read these discourses either) because he also did releasing to purify his own mind by correcting his past and thoughts from non-love to love and then later on he did self-inquiry and meditation (read the excerpts from here and here) and he also talked of the insights he gained directly from Self as a result of his awakening.

Toward the end of my period of seeking, l one day saw that, my gosh! This whole thing is like a dream in my mind, just like a night dream! And it's a dream that never really was any more than a dream you had last night was. Was it a real thing, that dream you had last night? No. It was only in your mind. But of course until one awakens out of this everyday waking state, it seems real to one. The new reality was that I am, and that's all there is! That my beingness is the changeless essence of the universe, of course, I was punch-drunk, slap-happy, and in a state of euphoria. In this state the whole world looks perfect. Looking at my body, I also saw this body as part of that perfection. This instantly corrected all my ailments.

Lol this ended up being quite a long answer but I wanted to show why mind purification is important and necessary on this path using examples from people I'm confident were truly fully realized beings and went all the way. I don't agree with a lot of the current teachings which just say not to do anything, that there is nothing to do. If that were true, why do people even come to seek spirituality in the first place and want to turn away from the material life?

Of course you are already the Self! Of course there is nothing to accomplish from the perspective of the Absolute. Of course there is no goal because who you truly are is already enlightened. But do you feel that way? Are you entirely free from suffering, ever at peace, bliss and with genuine (nonintellectual) wisdom? If you follow this type of Neo-Advaita teaching, from either the “nothing to do” or the “you are already enlightened” school, you will go nowhere. At best, you will stagnate in a tiny “peace-empty” feeling after doing 5 minutes of intellectual Self-inquiry, and then you’ll believe that you are enlightened, especially if the teacher or guru says “Yes, that is the Self! You have awakened!” Then you can become a guru too. In all seriousness, the aforementioned is what’s trending nowadays. It may have its purpose in certain circumstances, but it is mostly deceiving and unhelpful. All genuine and truthful Gurus, such as the Buddha, Lahiri Mahasaya, and Ramana Maharshi preached the importance of spiritual practice.

So basically, dropping habits/limitations/ego and clearing the subconscious isn't getting more involved in it, it's part of being on the long path and purifying the mind! Eventually, even this practice is to be dropped so you can just easily abide in Self as the observer on the short path with a clear mind. Of course in the end it is all up to you. Your inner guidance will tell you what is right :)

#asks #mind purification

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theblackdahliaemporium · 11 months

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Personal Purification Ritual

The candle you use can be one that you like regularly in the kitchen as you work, Or it can be one that you keep for this particular purpose or for purifications in general. It does not need to be burned down completely.

You will need: ●A small candle (color of your choice, white is always a good substitute) ● Matches or a lighter ● Small bowl or dish of salt - For an extra push you can use the purification oil. Put a drop or 2 on your wrists when performing this ritual.

1. Light the candle and set it on the table.

2. Place the bowl of salt on the table and sit down. Take the time to settle and fully feel yourself in the moment and be mindful of your actions. 3. Take a few cleansing breaths and lift your hands. Place your fingers in the bowl of salt.

4. Close your eyes and breathe deeply. As you exhale, Visualize any negative energy or the undesired emotion flowing down your arms and out through your fingers, being absorbed by the salt.

5. Continue to do this as long as it takes to clear yourself of the unwanted energy or emotion.

6. Remove your fingers from the salt and open your eyes. Focus on the candle burning on the table. Breathe in, And as you do, Visualize the warmth and brightness of the flame being drawn into your body, Filling it with light, Beauty, And warmth.

7. Do this until you feel refreshed, Focused, And calm. Extinguish the candle. Dispose of the salt by dissolving it in water and pouring it down the sink.

- This Ritual was found in "The House Witch"- by Arin Murphy-Hiscock.

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sumerianlanguage · 4 months

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Hello, I just read Andrew George's Epic of Gilgamesh and I stumbled upon this passage :

From what I know, the word "chapel" is quite distinctly meaning a place of worship for Christian, which surely this Epic predates by many centuries. The mention of juniper incense made me think that Gilgamesh and Enkidu performed divination and purification ritual, since in ancient Mesopotamia juniper incense is usually used for those rituals. And those rituals are also commonly performed in temple. But I don't understand why the translation didn't use 'temple' like in many other instances in the Epic, especially since the segment before located in a temple, more specifically Ninsun's temple where she adopted Enkidu as his foster son. Like, do Gilgamesh and Enkidu moved place? Do the word for 'chapel' there is different from 'temple' in other segment so it cannot be translated with the same word? What does exactly that 'chapel' word sounds in Sumerian/Akkadian?

Hello, and thanks for clarifying (in dms) which section of the Epic this comes from - it's Tablet III, lines 148-154. The word in question is the Akkadian bīt, which means "house" or "building", and is the root of many more specific terms for different buildings. It could also be used for "temple" or various other kinds of structures. It's the equivalent of the Sumerian e, which has the same set of meanings, and both are written 𒂍 in cuneiform.

George was, like many modern translators, presumably trying to make the text as recognizable as possible to his (assumed) reader, so used "chapel" as a creative liberty. Helle (2021) here uses "temple" with the same surrounding phrasing: "Enkidu in the temple of ... / and Gilgamesh in the temple of ..."

The term used for the temple of Ninsun earlier in tablet III is egalmah, a Sumerian term that literally means "great big building", but is used for a major temple. It starts with the same e sign, 𒂍. Given that we don't know what comes after bīt in the lines here, it's possible it was egalmah, but without a more complete version of this section we can't know for sure. The term bīt is also used in this tablet as part of the phrase for "bath-house" (bīt narmaku III.37), illustrating its more generic "building/house" meaning.

If I were to translate this, I'd probably use "building", just because the lack of context makes any more specific term seem too confident in meaning (this section is extremely fragmentary). As to what this section refers to, it could basically be anything - though if any Akkadianists have thoughts, please reblog with them! And thank you again for your question.

#replies #epic of gilgamesh #akkadian #sumerian architecture

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ladyduellist · 4 months

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Epistles of Saints & Sinners

Chapter Summary:

The bard, Tav, meets an unlikely group of strangers after being kidnapped by mind flayers.

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Story Summary:

When Astarion meets the humble bard, Tav, he soon finds out he's the only one between them that knows they are bound as soulmates through their marks. Deciding it's more trouble than its worth, he refuses to tell her along the course of their journey across Faerûn.

But, unbeknownst to him and their companions, Tav is harboring a gruesome secret that she only thought was nothing more than a traumatized period in her life.

As they both come to face to face with their pasts and presents, will they choose to move forward or let it consume them?

Healing isn’t linear—after all.

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Chapter 2: Book

Ao3

Next Chapter

Previous Chapter

Main Page & Chapter List

Word Count: 6.9k

Pairing: Astarion x female bard Tav

CW: Sexual language

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Time does not afford thee many options to choose in life. Thou dost hold little quantifiable moments for such bounty. It can be a curse or blessing depending on thee. Forsooth, whether by swain, lady, or person’s, the path will always be heavy. The perils of the worth of a life. For isn’t all ye that becomes bound by another in flesh or knowing, all a little broken?

— Withers, page 384 in ‘The Three-eyed Crow’

⸺⋘✤⋙⸺ Present Day ⸺⋘✤⋙⸺

There was no light, but there were hands.

Tav could feel them lifting her. And, oh, they were deceptively attentive in such a charitable way, dancing a possessed mania to chilling silence. It was easy to give into the relaxing ritual they were performing against her skin.

A flimsy piece of cloth covered her eyes as it was tied around her head. The finger pads of one hand, stroked her face lovingly. Ripe enough, it seemed to suggest—imbued with all her worst and best. A distraction before they latched onto her naked body and lifted her in one motion into the air.

Was she floating?

And then, she was being lowered into a body of water. It was warm, opened wide to accept the bells she rang amidst every contract forged with the fiendish and divine choices she’d made.

Her throat felt vacant while she tried to muster any noise. She lifted her own hands to her neck, wrapping them around it, silently begging her voice to be free. The spirited hands rubbed themselves against her in silken waves to hush her.

Tav could feel herself being submerged; her body was pliant, accepting this baptismal relief. She mouthed, "FORGIVE ME, FORGIVE ME, FORGIVE ME." Then, the hands dipped her down further into the liquid abyss, swallowing her whole.

The water accepted her; she smiled in relief beneath its surface.

It felt like time didn’t exist as she was being comforted by these depths. But, she could feel a hymn reverberating in the distance—a decadent piece beneath the surface of her watery tomb. Ripples of a voice causing gooseflesh to appear all over her body. The sound was cleansing her and offering purification.

She will accept it because hadn’t she endured enough? Hadn’t. She. Endured. Enough?

Then, there was light! It peered down at her from a completely darkened space above. It penetrated the cloth wraps binding Tav's eyes.

Salvation had arrived!

Her body was rising and the cloth fell away. The water beneath was now a clear pool, resembling thousands of shimmering black diamonds. The hands had been banished, yet the hymn remained.

She raised, she raised, she raised.

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And then she woke.

Tav’s eyes opened, but the rest of her felt paralyzed. They rapidly moved from side to side and then upwards towards a blue sky overhead.

Curious skies for the hells, she thought.

Panic. She opened her mouth to scream for help, but her voice had been stolen—just like in her dream.

The devils of Avernus are sitting on my chest and mean to steal my breath! Dearest, Oghma, please will my body to move!

As her consciousness returned, she gasped with newfound breathing and cried out frightened. She retched from the smell of an unearthly scent of burning corpses. In several contained areas, smokey pillars were rising up, forming inky clouds well above their fires. Then, the realization that it was not Avernus that held her, but that the Nautiloid had crashed elsewhere, and somehow—she survived.

The squirm behind her eyes was palpable. Memories came flooding in all at once of her being taken from the streets of Baldur’s Gate. Images of mind flayers and the pods they kept her in like some kind of unhinged monster, splashed across her gray matter. But, most of all, she remembered the insertion of the tadpole and how the violation of her autonomy was committed.

It was enough to make the elf briefly wish to cradle herself into a ball, allowing the numbness to succumb. But, the ache in her back—the blood she finally saw slowly oozing from the broken wooden stake in the side of her doublet—was enough to force her to stand with an intense wince.

Sand. A beach under her boots. Grit and filth near her wound, luring infection. With shaking hands, she pulled out the wood. Her essence spewed as an offering of tithes to a god of the sanguine. She cried out, alone and sorrowful of her plight. A long rip was made at the bottom of her doublet and a strip of fabric served to tie around her torso, applying pressure to the gash.

And then, she saw her lute, smashed into bits. Fragments of colorfully carved marigolds, with singing birds and baby’s breath, lay across the sandy ocean. Strings, once promising to uplift those that witnessed their noise, were now twisted and coiled. A gift from her mother. Her peace. Her one true love—deceased.

Now the lute was laid to break and all that was left was eternal heartbreak.

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Like most days during his two centuries worth of undeath, Astarion woke with the familiarity of his body wrung sore and numbness wedged in places he once considered mortal.

Out of practice—eyes rapidly moving to puppeting shadows beneath his lids—Astarion reached out across the ground, searching for the scraps of cold wet fur attached to four puny legs that would serve as his nightly meal. Grasping fistfuls of nothing, he retracted his hand with a pang of hunger shooting through his fangs and the anxiety that he had, once again, displeased his master.

The pale elf forced himself to sit upon his knees, awaiting for the command to unseal his eyes. Head up. Spine straight. Master would not allow for slouching.

Tongue dry like thick ash, he paused before his instinctual apologies started to spill. His hearing hissed with noises he couldn’t decipher. Did he miss the order? He thought he heard the residual shrill of Cazador’s voice, “Boy, open your eyes” amidst the passing tinnitus. A clammy shiver tore down his chest.

A test? Yes, Master was testing him.

A deep intake of breath. The scent of unnatural smoke tinged with the coppery caress of spilt blood, burned heavily in his nostrils. Had the Crimson Palace fallen?

A brave moment willed Astarion to chance opening his eyes. Streams of a bright light immediately seared his irises. Had mercy finally been granted upon him in the form of the sun beamed god, laden with gilded armor upon his chariot of fire, there to whip the payment of coins from his sight?

He yelped, scrambling to cover himself by batting the light away; danger was in the daylight.

And then, it dawned on him: for the first time in hundreds of years, the sun did not pierce his flesh to dust, it welcomed him into its yoke.

The sudden burst of hues unsullied by tones of shadows, caused his throat to convulse. It was too much to absorb all the colors at once. He heaved over into the dirt on all four limbs, with acidic bile blanketing his palate.

Maddeningly, he laughed aloud, a hand covering his mouth. The mind flayers—of course.

As with all new discoveries, several notions flashed in his frontal lobe: he could now walk in the sun, the presence of a squiggling worm had burrowed itself in his brain, and he was no longer under the thrall of Cazador Szarr.

But, such revelations would have to wait. There were two heartbeats rapidly approaching upon his position and he was wont to put blind faith into any bit of this predicament.

So, Astarion stood up, intentionally leaving the remnants of dirt upon his clothes—for that extra touch of “helplessness”—and the preparation to act with the skills he knew best: weaving deceit.

⸺⋘✤⋙⸺

The sun blazed down on the two women—demanding they fall to their feet—as they fumbled about for supplies. Leftover carcass from intellect devourers covered their boots. Tav felt like she’d been under a continuous dancing hex from all the stomping she’d done: it proved to be exhausting.

There was ridicule, a silent scoff behind the cleric’s eyes as she followed the bard. She only trusted her as far as two unlucky souls thrown into the fray of such a circumstance would allow. And Tav, with all her tempered patience and quiet observation, decided it best to ignore Shadowheart under that watchful uncertainty.

Upon scavenging, an orphaned rapier surfaced, resting next to its departed owner. Whomever they once were, had recently been reduced to a mutilated corpse. Tav muttered a solemn prayer in gratitude for the weapon and the opportunity to wield its blade.

“I hope you know how to use that. I don’t think squishing an actual flayer under your foot is going to suffice,” Shadowheart commented dubiously.

But, Tav held knowledge within the muscles of her joints, the swiftness of a blade she had called her own. Memories etched into her backbone of adrenaline’s flight. And despite her rather natural guarded demeanor, in the moment, she chose to flourish.

Like a bullet slicing through the wind, she thrusted quickly and steadily. Then, she twisted and cut downward, sweat building upon her brow like a whore in a church. As if to parry, she leaped into the regaling wind, easily coming down for a final paralleled tick before landing gracefully.

“Seems I was correct in choosing you to travel with. We might make it through this after all,” the cleric smirked pragmatically.

Tav presented her with a cheeky smile. She knew she was talented at the blade. The rapier felt heavy and potent in her grasp. She could burn down kingdoms under the servility of her sword, claiming the crown as her own.

However, the bard was no ruler. She would never be queen to any denizens, ruling in the name of power. Being the immolated siren of balladic performances was her calling. She craved—no, needed—adventures of her own and strived to maintain the quiet peace of her heart in between. Because having moments of solitude to observe and appreciate life in slow-moving patterns, served her in ways that no other living creature was capable of.

Yet, hearts can carry many scars. And the breadcrumbs leading to the chambers of hers, have long been consumed. For she waged a holy war and the result was disavowing putting her full trust into anyone. A tactical boundary that often made her feel alone.

They rounded a path, climbing up a hill, and there he was: the ghost of a man. Pallid with partially mussed curls of white silver. Spots of ash and debris clung on the velvety purple portions sewed onto his overcoat. Despite the upheaval of his appearance, it was apparent the high elf was strikingly handsome.

And with his pearly tone of flesh, voice being a lilt to their ears as he begged in earnest, he may be as wicked as they come.

“A little help—if you both wouldn’t mind. Please.”

Both of the women eyed him cautiously. The cleric nodded at Tav, urging her to approach him while she stood afar—mace in hand—ready to act should something go awry. The gentleman pointed over towards a heap of bushes, the leaves shaking with the rustling movement.

“Quickly, I’ve got one of those brain things cornered over here! I saw you earlier with that sword of yours. Just one thrust and it’ll be dead!”

Tav walked forward past the pale elf, angling her head to the side to peer through the bushes. A small boar jumped out as she drew near, hurriedly running in the opposite direction. She placed her hand on the hilt of her blade, ready to unsheathe it. It was unlike her to dive right in like this—without her usual focus on the possible outcomes—but he caught them off guard with that pleading gaze in his piercing eyes. And she was absolutely sure he knew it.

Ah, but it wasn’t long before she finally felt the cold steel of a knife at her throat and her legs being swept from underneath her.

“Now, now, I suggest you keep quiet unless you’d like to lose that darling neck of yours," the man warned.

He held Tav in a hold on the ground, legs pliant, as they tangled with hers. One arm held down her shoulder possessively, while his right hand held the knife pointed directly into the hollow portion of her throat. It didn’t stop her from trying to wriggle out of his grasp, but he was notably physically stronger than her.

There were the occasional noises of boots shuffling a few feet in the dirt behind them and he suddenly seemed angrier as he directed his vision over towards Shadowheart. “Stay where you are or things will become messy! Unless, that’s what you’d prefer.”

“Stow that blade. I need her alive or you will find out just how messy things can get,” she firmly replied.

“Perhaps when my business is through, darling,” he playfully answered.

Turning his attention back to Tav, he pressed the tip of the blade a bit further into her skin. She gasped, staring at it in fear. One small move and he'd surely slice her open.

“I’m going to ask some questions and you’re going to answer. Now—I saw you on the ship, didn’t I? Nod.”

The bard flicked her eyes up bit by bit, directing them from the knife to study his face. His jawline and cheeks were sharp, strong in such a statuesque manner typically carved into the marbles of nude heroes draped in cloth finery. Then, there was the residual scent. One of aromatic notes—seeping into the air from the tender skin of his wrists—as he continued to closely hold the blade. Woodsy with a crisp aquatic citrus. It was oddly sophisticated, somehow suiting him perfectly. If this villainous man hadn't attacked her, she could imagine the most lovely of sighs pacifying her rosy lips as she breathed him in.

And while the many facets of his outward appearance intrigued Tav in a strange way, it was his eyes that made her breath hitch and her body still. The longer she stared, the more lyrical words she came up with to describe them. Initially, they appeared a bright candy apple red in the sun's direct light, but up close, oh, his eyes were an alluring hue of garnet jewels with flecks of a darker maroon encompassing his pupils.

“Wait! I—,” she murmured under his hold. When he cocked his eyebrow at her, she suddenly recalled her predicament and nodded to try and subdue him.

“Good girl.” The pure smoke of his tone accepted her response. “Tell me what those tentacled freaks did to me! And don’t even think about lying.”

Without due notice, their tadpoles connected on their own and they’re suddenly looking out of each other’s unfamiliar eyes as their minds mangled.

Tav saw:

Busy, dark streets. Prowling. Waiting. Watching.

Teeth ripping into a soft object as a liquid spews forth.

Staring up at the stars longingly.

Memories of her past are forced into his mind:

A rapier swung in a vast field while an elven man with wintery eyes smiled proudly.

Walls filled with musical instruments amidst tons of hastily written lyrics on parchment.

A younger handsome man with dark hair, yelling before his calloused hand tilted up her tear-stained chin.

“Argh! What was that? What are you doing,” he questioned harshly.

Tav winced, trying to fully grasp what had just happened. “The mind flayer’s worms, they—I think they somehow connected us. I don’t fully understand what’s happening either. I’m sorry.”

The elf furrowed his brow, seemingly considering her words. He rolled away and stood up, dusting off his clothes. Nonchalantly, he placed the palms of his hands against his lower back, elbows sticking out like bird wings.

Shadowheart was instantly at the bard’s side acting as a crutch while she lifted her to stand.

“My name’s Astarion. I was in Baldur’s Gate when I was snatched up by those creatures; I didn't realize we’re in a similar position. And to think, I was ready to decorate the ground with your innards. My sincerest apologies. And you are?”

Tav straightened up, regarding the man’s full height. He stood around three to five inches taller than her own stature.

“Tavelle Swiftchoir. Tav is fine enough. And I may have acted the same if the roles were reversed. Thank you for apologizing.”

Astarion gave her a brief bow of his head. “You mentioned earlier you had no idea as to what is happening to us?”

“Judging by what I saw back on the ship, I think we may turn into mind flayer’s at some point. I truly do not have any information beyond that,” she remarked.

“Turn us into—Gods. Ha! Hahahaha. Of course it would turn me into a monster. What else did I expect?” he added in scorned disbelief. “Maybe we can find someone that has more expert knowledge of these things. So that we can control them.”

Control? What a bizarre word to use, one that Tav bristled under. “We need to get rid of them! I cannot imagine any good would come from controlling them. That being said, if you’d like to accompany us—at least until we reach somewhere safe—there is room. It’s your choice.”

Astarion brought his neck back, a smarmy grin stretched from pointy ear to pointy ear. “Of course. I was considering going at this alone, but you seem like a useful person to be on familiar footing with and it’s sometimes always better to stick with a crowd.”

⸺⋘✤⋙⸺

Right away, Tav found Gale of Waterdeep endearing. He was wordy and slightly sarcastic when he spoke. Gleefully, he illustrated the process of ceremorphosis and jested a rather befitting joke asking if anyone was adept with a knitting needle to pry out their new friends from their optical regions.

He had chestnut hair to his shoulders, with streaks of gray swept back from his forehead. The deep brown of his eyes were warm and reminded the traveling minstrel of a tree she used to sit under as she practiced her songs. And there was a certain masculine aesthetic that only added to his attractiveness with his closely trimmed facial hair. The way he spoke was tinged with an intellectual knowing that could come off as haughty, even overly self confident, but he also seemed so very awkward.

“You all have every right to be distrusting of me; wizards carry a certain reputation that not even I have been able to escape. But, I do want to remind you: we share a common goal. And I also do not know any of you. My arcane knowledge will come in handy, should you allow me to journey with you,” he reassured them.

“You seem very promising, especially seeing as you got yourself stuck in that portal of yours,” Astarion mocked.

Tav snorted quietly, "Now, Astarion, it’s his first day. Let’s give the man time to adjust.”

“Har. Har. A minor inconvenience, but one you’re soon to forget once you pay witness to my spellwork—surely,” Gale confidently mentioned.

⸺⋘✤⋙⸺

Astarion noticed Tav first for her heartbeat.

It was vastly different from their other two charges, holding an irregularity like the currents of a river. Hers lacked the strong prideful thrums from the wizard or the confident pounds of the obstinate cleric. Initially, he thought he had heard a quaint misfire of her blood failing to pump properly, but upon willing his senses to zone specifically in on hers, he realized the rhythm was one his vampiric mind couldn’t recall in all his years as a specter.

It did not seem to swiften the pace of its beats—there were simply more of them. The drumming of the bard’s heart was akin to flowing downstream alongside drowning flower petals, oscillating a path away from her, only to be lured back in and managed by the hums of a sweet song once again.

Though, there was something amiss with Tav's quickened stuttering of beats when either him or Gale stood near her. It was so effortlessly knotted into her other unusual thuds, that Astarion had nearly unheard it. A murmur? No. Disease of the organ? Not quite. These gentle quivering rushes were ones he did understand. He had victimized innumerable hearts that bore a similar fleeting spark to hers.

A longing for companionship.

During their journey over the next few days, the spawn monitored Tav from a distance as she bustled around camp. Oftentimes, she sang a calming tune to herself that would make her smile as she performed her tasks—little gestures of kindness he found to be pointless labors of her time.

Every morning, the elven songstress would prepare a pot of hot tea for them from a satchel of loose leaves they found in their supplies. Sometimes, depending on their current stash, she would stroll by Gale’s tent, setting down a bowl full of culled berries for him by the lounging area he formed. He once caught her rubbing Shadowheart’s armor down to save it from dreadfully rusting overnight, when the cleric went to nurse a migraine after a particularly exhausting day of picking off a group of gnolls.

And for him she—

“Astarion! Here. These should keep for a bit until the next time you’re injured and spoil another barracks full of rags again," Tav beamed, pushing a pile of clean rags tied thrice over in twine into his hands. And just because she’s her, there was a stem of wild yarrows placed thoughtfully on top.

Astarion was dumbfounded. He looked down at the linen, noticing some of the blood stains hadn’t washed entirely out, but most of them faded to dulled brownish spots. She didn’t know about his condition—yet. Praise the hells animals still bled red!

“I tried to get the stains out as best as I could manage with what we have in our packs, but at least they’re clean,” she added with a careful smile.

He was taken aback. Why had she done this? And when had she snuck into his tent to remove the rags without his notice? Not even a trace of her snooping left behind—at least, to his detection.

He stared at her, studying her responses to him. “This wasn’t necessary.”

“Of course it wasn’t necessary. I wanted to do it. It’s one less task you have to worry about; one less task you may ask me to help with later on,” she teased.

“Right. I have to admit, all this ‘roughing it’ in the woods seems a little novel.”

The bard nodded introspectively. “It’s definitely not for everyone. I suppose I am used to some aspects of it. A lot of my youth was spent catching butterflies in meadows and falling into muddy creeks trying to knight toads.”

The vampire grinned, watching a soft glow envelop her while she spoke, offering him a small glimpse into treasured memories.

But, he needed to test the waters. A navigated rope of words that may ripple across her body, providing him with a concrete answer he sought.

“Ah, the reverie of youth! Such a wonderful era to engage in a bunch of new experiences. New food. New places. New lovers.” Astarion tilted his head, emphasizing the last word with the faintest overlay of flirtation.

Tav only seemed to humor him with a crinkle to her round stormy eyes, until she tucked a few pieces of hair behind her fair ear—her fair, very flushed ear.

Astarion’s expression fell flat before perking up.

“If you’ll excuse me, the last few days have been quite a lot and I need time to process.” He turned around, heading back to his tent to deposit the clean laundry with that recognizable incessant tug at his soul.

He did need time to process.

Time to process her.

Because he knew the trade of manipulation as an avian knows their migration path.

The lady of musical blades: with kindness etched in the lines of her hands and introversion deciding her demeanor.

And what kind of victim could properly aid him in heralding his security within their group better, than a foolishly humbled nitwit, with a heartbeat that all but gave her away.

⸺⋘✤⋙⸺

“Tell me Gale, do you have any lovers waiting for you once this is all over?” Astarion wiggled his eyebrows at Tav while the wizard was still turned away, helping to search for a way inside the temple ruins.

“That is—not the easiest of questions for me to answer,” Gale muttered. He found a door leading into the ruins and motioned towards it. “It’s locked.”

Shadowheart scoffed, shaking her head. “You mean just waiting, like a lovesick puppy? Short-term amusements are much less hassle.”

Astarion casually approached the latches on the door, tapping them a few times before exhuming a set of thieving tools. Tav stood at his side watching as his deft fingers worked, jiggling it with a lockpick.

He questioned her in kind, “What about you, my blade-happy friend? Do you have a beau you were plucked from?”

She shifted her weight uncomfortably onto one of her legs. The faintest cast of her expression switched from a yearning to coy saccharine. “I do not. Truth be told, it’s been a while since I’ve been with a lover, but I have also been content without one.”

Astarion regarded her with a toothsome grin, as if he were a kitten she had led to paw at a bowl of cream.

“What about you? Surely, there is someone of interest that has taken to your charming wit,” the bard inquired.

She continued her ardent curiosity as his nimble fingers moved the pick around inside of the keyhole. They were reminiscent of her own, when she meant to play a fast ballad across the strings of her lute.

The pale elf stopped his tinkering, flicking his scarlet orbs to hold her own vision within his own. “You mean a lover anticipating my return with open arms? Ha! Not exactly. However, I’m not opposed to the pleasures of an unexpected affair.”

Oh.

Oh!

Tav chewed on the inside of her cheek, unsure of how to answer. Did he just—?

No. Mayhaps? There had been attractive men who had shown interest in her in the past, peacocking their gait as they strode to her, jingling their pockets of excessive coin as they complimented her. But, with the spell of her melodies heavy in the air, her voice commanding an entire room, it was the mystery of the euphonic song they proclaimed their undying affections for—not the woman they didn’t truly know.

And Astarion may be the first man in quite some time that reacted to her for reasons other than her performance on the stage.

But, would it matter if he had? Her heart was a barren percussive wasteland that betrayed her in the past.

Love lies in a tomb. Covered in weeds, caressed by wandering winds. Frozen in time with the unknown.

Though…she was curious about him.

Astarion was an adventitious encounter that kept Tav on her feet with bewilderment. He would step forward with his charm, only to back away with a distilled gaze, as if he were examining each of them in a specimen jar.

Yet, he was a welcomed asset to their team. Offering to keep watch at night, scouting the area from the shadows, or gods, his skill as a rogue were ones that thoroughly mesmerized her. She didn't think she'd ever tire of being the one in the audience for once when he flipped his daggers around, ready to lead forward at his target.

Shadowheart and Gale were so stuffy in comparison to him. He added the dichotomy of “fun” into the fray and she caught herself gravitating towards his presence on more than one occasion, seeking his brand of levity. He managed to evoke ribbons of laughter out of her with his cynically entertaining commentary when she least expected it. Plus, there was a strange comfort she found in him—as if he had known her for centuries—before even the very blips of matter and capillaries decided to form and create her body in the world.

The door to the ruins clinked opened ceremoniously.

“I doubt this is the first lock you’ve opened. You’re quite skilled with those fingers of yours, Astarion,” Shadowheart jested as they stepped over it’s threshold.

Astarion impishly grinned with a wink, “Oh, you have no idea my dear.”

Tav lightly chuckled, rolling her eyes at the innuendo as she entered through the doorway.

⸺⋘✤⋙⸺

“Hmm. There seems to be quite a few rooms to scavenge through, should we split up? Gale, come with me—I think there’s another place to explore in that direction according to one of the maps I gleaned off this bandit. If that’s true, there’s a chance the entry may be protected by an abjuration barrier,” Shadowheart stated, rolling the map back up.

“Right behind you! Have you noticed the colonies of bats down here? I’m no wildlife expert, but did you know that the mating ritual of bats involves the male biting the female…” Gale’s voice became an animated echo as they disappeared around the corner.

Astarion quirked a side smile towards Tav. “Well, I guess that leaves the two of us. Don’t worry about them, I’m sure Shadowheart will come to Gale’s rescue if he blasts himself into another portal again.”

“Let us hope she doesn’t decide to abandon him should such an event come to fruition,” she giggled. “Come, there should be some rooms to rummage through this way.”

They trudged on, finding themselves in a chamber of the crypt that had rows of books chaotically shoved into bookcases with a shrine near the back of the room. Most had fallen out into dusty piles, ruined at some point by age and water damage. It appeared to have once been a study of sorts by way of stone benches and scattered doctrines. The cloying scent of moldy musk and rat droppings laid densely in the study: it was almost suffocating.

Tav coughed away the foul smell, attempting to light a few abandoned candles. “Ugh. So, Astarion, I don’t mean to assume, but you don’t strike me as the type that likes curling up to read on a rainy afternoon.”

Astarion sauntered over to a shelf that had a row of old religious texts. He pointed his index finger out, skimming it across the titles about dead gods on the spines.

“Actually, it’s quite the opposite. I’ve had nothing, but time to read,” his face soured. “However, I’ve come to find books can reveal traits about ourselves we didn’t know.”

“The written word has a lot to offer to people. Books give us ideas; ideas can manifest into actions,” she added mildly. “And sometimes, books give us worlds to escape into when life chases us away.”

The vampire observed as she gracefully placed her hands on a book, pulled it out, then pushed it back into place. And then another, until she set her sights on a specific piece bound in weathered leather: it appeared ancient.

He took note of the brightness in her blue-gray irises when she opened the book, a gentle beam upon her lips. Astarion watched how her fingers turned the pages, minding the wrinkled yellowed edges of the paper. The way she glided them delicately across a page as if she were apologizing to it, sent an unexpected shiver down his back.

The Curse of the Vampyr

Harken close and beware the Vampyr. Beware its cold beauty. Beware its charm. Beware its curse. Above all, beware the pale noble, for the Vampyr cannot bear to be of the common folk. How doth one protect from the Beast? Walk not in blackest night, for the Vampyr loves these nights more than any other. If you must walk, do so by the light of our moon and take care. Carry the blessings and marks of your God at all times. But remember, your home is a fortress, if protected well. If you hear a knock in the night, be wary. Let no stranger into your home. If it be a friend, look upon them. Do you find them pallid and wan? See you any mark upon their neck? See you any dirt upon their clothes? Unless their need is great, turn away all but the most trusted. And if the Beast finds a way into your home, flee. Leave love and family behind. You will not save them if you fight. You will not see them again. But they will see you, pale and smiling, calling them into the night.

And then, there was an abrupt diversion he delivered against the back of her neck. Breath cool, exhaling onto the delicate tendrils of fine hair that curled at the bottom of her head. That rousing mixture—aquatic and woodsy—threatening to burrow itself right into the marrow of her olfactories.

Astarion’s voice became a dulcet whisper below the shell of her ear. “Have you ever met one? I’ve heard vampires have an insatiable appetite for both blood and flesh.”

Tav leadenly turned around to face him, her grip slowly tightening on the front and back covers of the book.

His voice grew deeper, a molasses any maid would want to dip their tongues into. “And who could blame them? Some of us were created to tempt, while some of us were created to give into temptation.”

Whoosh. Thrum-dub-dub. Whoosh. Thrum-dub-dub.

Ah, there they were. The delicately reserved beats of her sweet chambers she tried to hide from prying vagabonds. Blood thriving, fighting for space in the channels of veins and arteries they flowed. A signal for Astarion to proceed.

His long fingers tapped on the page. “Read it aloud.”

Tav looked up into his face confused. “You wish for me to read to you?”

“Yes. Educate me about vampires.”

She stalled, her breath warm on the underside of his chin. “Forgive me, but I don’t understand why you—“

“Would you believe me if I said it’s because I find your voice to be soothing? I’ve heard you chirping around our rugged accommodations,” he replied with a craftily composed smile.

A crease in her brow scrunched inward. Her lips parted, exhaling a quiet breath. She meditated on his face, pupils adjusting more to his expression in the dimly lit room, weighing her options on the premise of his delivery.

The purr of her tadpole sloshed up against the gate into his thoughts—an involuntary reaction born of hesitancy. Swallowing, the worm withdrew and she cleared her throat without another word on the matter.

Tav refocused on the book, reciting passage after passage of information. He delighted in the elicit shudder she offered to him when the pads of his chilled fingers lightly grazed against her hand. She peered up at him, owl-eyed as pinky splotches spread to her neck.

“Keep going, darling. You were reading about theories on where vampires originated.”

She nodded courteously, reading aloud in that perfect lilt of her pitch. Enunciating each sentence with a richness only found in buttercream icing.

Astarion craned his neck to be eye level with hers, a few inches shy of her blushing face. He trained his eyes on the rise and fall of her chest—pretending to be fixated on the pages—as her breathing hastened like a fawn’s during a hunt.

He deeply inhaled her scent. Traces of lavender. Sweat. Arousal.

“Stunning, really,” he whispered aloud, causing Tav to flinch from her concentration.

The bard straightened her head, peeking at him through finely wisped lashes. Her voice broke. “What’s stunning?”

Astarion trailed a deft finger along the side of her neck, a move that would cause her to quiver. He touched a strand of her hair that lay limply over her ear, tucking it back in place so he would have better access. With the very edge of his nail, he lightly scraped it from the top of her helix to her lobe, forcing her to release an inviting moan that she swiftly covered with her hand.

“You.”

She stared at him, embarrassment resting on the surface of her skin. Boldly, she grabbed his hand, removing it from her ear. “I didn’t even think you noticed me.”

“I think it’s quite obvious I’m attracted to you.”

He could hear the way she ached for him. The singing in her blood that pulsed like fireflies, as he ghosted his touch with the promise of something more. A wetness he could sense that settled below.

“But, why?” Tav questioned, still holding onto a few of his fingers lightly as if they would break her, letting them rest near the collar of her doublet.

Astarion leaned in, his cool lips hovering in front of hers. He drawled, “For many reasons.”

Her pale lids were half hooded, the tip of her tongue wet her lips. “Tell me one.”

The elf hooked a gentle hand around her hip as his mouth, inch by inch, came closer to its destination. “Your lovely voice could be a salve to anyone’s wound, but it would be the lure that could sink me to the depths of sin.”

He closed his eyes, pressing himself closer as he readied to kiss her—

“Astarion, stop,” her voice firmly muttered, accompanied by a palm pushing flat on his chest.

Scarlet globes flashed open. He backed away from her, allowing space between them.

Fuck.

Tav closed the book, depositing it back into the position she found on the shelf. Bravely, she turned around to face him, skin a pretty rose, still heaving with lust and trying to catch her breath.

She shook her head, her plait swishing down her back as she walked past him without even so much as a glance of her peripherals. “I’m sorry. I can’t. I just—can’t. Not like this.”

Astarion was confounded, like she had caught him in an uncompromising position that was all part of a strategy quickly gone awry.

Because it had.

“ASTARION! TAV! HAVE YOU TWO FINISHED UP IN THERE? WE HAVEN’T FOUND ANYTHING AND SHADOWHEART HAS, ONCE AGAIN, THREATENED ME WITH THAT VERY SPIKY AND HEAVY MACE OF HERS,” Gale shouted from their location.

⸺⋘✤⋙⸺

Meeting back up, the group was successful in finding a hidden lever that opened the door Gale and Shadowheart had been investigating.

Once inside, they found a large statue of ‘Jergal, the Lord of the Dead’ and an entire temple dedicated to the god. Sarcophagi lined the east and west sides of the temple, skeletons strewn about finding rest on the grounds instead of their cold coffins.

It wasn’t long before those dead scribes rose to fight them, loyalty to the dead god exceeding beyond their deaths. As they were struck down, they met Withers, the eccentric skeletonesque creature hidden in a secret room behind the statue. He spoke to them in cryptic riddles, but offered his assistance to them without directly intervening with their mission.

By the time they reached the surface again, the light had faded from the sky. Everyone was exhausted, overwhelmed by the events of the day, and welcoming the distance between them as they individually set up their spaces.

Shadowheart meditated outside of her tent before eventually dousing the incense she had lit, heading off to rest.

Gale studied a few of the scrolls they found inside the crypt before, he too, yawned loudly. He imparted a small wave to the companions before disappearing behind the flap of his own abode.

Tav reconvened with her nightly chores, her body moving in uncertain motions as if she were second guessing herself with every step.

Astarion avoided interacting with her entirely. He glanced at her when she wasn’t paying attention: studying her mannerisms, watching her facial expressions morph, or clocking her behavior.

“Not like this.”

He would not make the same mistake twice.