#aylin appreciation post
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Shoutout to Baldurs Gate 3 for having a magical girl transformation sequence but instead of a teenager in a short skirt it's a lesbian aasimar paladin in full plate about to open 13 cans of fucking whoop ass
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Another Aylin appreciation post!
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Power ranking BG3 ladies based on how much I'd personally like to marry them
All main and supporting women: Shadowheart, Lae'zel, Karlach Minthara, Jaheira, Isobel, Aylin, Mizora, Orin
Plus my background babes: Florrick, Talli, Alfira, Lakrissa, Araj, Nocturne, Skoona, Adrielle, Z'rell, Roah, Nine-Fingers, and special guest star Philomeen
*Isobel and Aylin deserve to be regarded as individuals occasionally, so yes I'm wrecking that home (Alfira and Lakrissa too)
*essentially, top 10 is "women I would like to marry" and 11-21 and is "women I would not like to marry"
Quartermaster Talli. Granted she has an unfair advantage due to looking and vibing as a fusion of my IRL girlfriend and the butch lesbian who installed my new garage door 3 years ago whom I'm still mildly obsessed with. But anyway, we'd have a really great life together. We'd be able to communicate, we'd be compatible in the bedroom, we have similar values. Wife material, Grade A - the gold standard comparison for everyone else on the list.
Isobel. We'd have our tiffs (we can both be a little catty and sensitive), but overall we'd be a pretty stable match. We'd put in the work to make it last. I feel like being a cleric counts as a "job" so I appreciate that.
Nocturne. My #1 "I can fix her" pick because I think I actually can. I appreciate a hard worker, so Nocturne having distinguished herself in her uh workplace enough to become an officer is very respectable to me. We could go to therapy together. Not a perfect match, but I think we could make it work.
Lakrissa. Would be an easy second place if she didn't read so young. She's a little immature (a little over-dedicated, a little too self-sacrificing) and so she'd have to do some growing up, but I think we could make it work.
Florrick. Even though she's my #1 beloved and by FAR the sexiest person in the entire game and I would do anything to [redacted], we'd be like two brick walls getting married. We're too similar. But sheer affection and lust propel her to the top 5 anyway, even though we'd probably be married 10 sexless years before one of us finally snapped and filed for divorce.
Skoona. Assuming she drops the whole self-deprecating thing (can't stand that). She has a job, she's sensitive, she's romantic, she's humble, and she's hot. I don't think we'd knock each others' socks off, but we'd be a nice match.
Lae'zel. Extremely 22 years old and that's an issue for me. I'm also too sensitive to make it through her tough outer shell to get to the soft waifu meat inside. However, she does have amazing wife material to uncover, so I think if I could be her second wife, we'd be golden.
Adrielle. We'd have our problems as two neurotic faux-normies, but we're neurotic in different ways, so maybe we'd complete each other? She's very conscientious and thoughtful, though, which are the most important wife traits for me. With commitment and therapy, we'd make it work, but it wouldn't be the smoothest ride.
Jaheira. I don't really want to be a step parent to young kids, so that pulls her down the list a bit, but there's no way I couldn't have her in the top 10. We'd get along great; we have the same sense of humor; we're both not clingy. A good match, but not really the wife for me.
Minthara. I want her so bad but she'd eat me alive and not in the sexy way. I would let her walk all over me for 2-3 years though, assuming she didn't dump me first. Impossible to rank below the top 10, but objectively not the wife for me.
Shadowheart. Like Lae'zel, there's a lot to get through before you get to the wife material deep inside. I would also need to be her second wife. Also, I'm not doing that cottagecore shit and I cannot have that many animals in my house.
Araj. I know I called her bad in bed 2 different ways in two other posts but that's not a problem, she's so sexy and interesting to me that I know I would fall super hard for her. I too love science? We have something in common. I feel like she'd bring out a lot in me, not necessarily good things, but to be loved is to be changed? I would probably come to my senses before really risking it all though.
Alfira. I love her so much but I am no Lakrissa, I could not handle both supporting her while she pursues her artistic goals AND having to top every time. We'd be that miserable couple that lets it drag on forever because nothing is *wrong* even though nothing is *right* and wind up hating each other.
Nine-Fingers. She'd stress me out too much. Running the streets, making enemies... what if a shake-down goes wrong? Admittedly I'm tempted to live out my mafia wife fantasies with her, but realistically, I think I'd have too many nervous breakdowns to make it worth it.
Karlach. The divorce would be so epic that I almost wanted to rank her higher, but I just know deep down that we would trigger/frustrate the fuck out of each other and completely implode long before making it to the courthouse and/or altar.
Aylin. I routinely get over-stimulated by my cats brushing against my leg when I'm trying to multi-task working and listening to music, so there is no universe in which I could tolerate being married to Aylin. She's too exuberant and touchy. I would be scream-crying WHY ARE YOU YELLING AT ME every time she simply asked me how my day was in her usual volume. An absolute disaster, she'd smother me despite her best intentions.
Z'rell. She can have place #17 to match the 17 husbands which I would not be okay with. I'm not jealous, but I'm not THAT not jealous. She's also just really harsh and I'm a crier, so we probably would not be able to have a conversation, let alone a relationship.
Roah Moonglow. Like Nine-Fingers, but I feel like the Zhent is like, a second-rate criminal organization and so it'd be like being a second-rate mafia wife. All the stress, fewer fist-sized emerald necklaces.
Mizora. On top of everything else, she's also a corporate LAWYER... yuck
Philomeen. I would go on 1 date with Philomeen, let her start a blowup fight with me outside of [regional burrito chain], let her neg me into fucking anyway, go no contact, and let her booty call me 2 years later at 3AM like nothing happened, but I would not even slightly consider dating her, let alone marrying her.
Orin. Ignoring the whole serial killer thing that's neither here nor there, the problem is the combo of overbearing family (my #1 dealbreaker of all time) and lack of communication skills (my #2 dealbreaker of all time). Like I'd be constantly trying to get her to go no contact with Serevok and she'd never listen and she'd always be talking in fucking Dr Seuss riddles and disappearing and pissing me off.
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Mutuals Mutuals Come one COME ALL!!!
Put your various sona's and appendages together for the unveiling of a lil' something I've been working on while being distracted from animating Dame Aylin's wings (Its long, hard, fun as all hell but the concentration required to do so seems physically impossible for a beast of my genus)
I drew all my moots tavs/pseudo-companions!!! It took a bit, but it was well worth it! Everyone's design is so unique and fun to figure out. (10 is a big number of moots)((which I am very grateful to have :3))
So without Further Ado!!! (there will be so much more Ado):
(page break cuz the images are 400x400 each but 10 times, I also go on for a bit about how much I like each Tav/pseudo-companion character)
((if anyone can give me tips on how to size pieces in a normal style digitally i'd be very grateful))
First of all is Sivvus the Fey Prince (he/him)! This elusive Eladrin Tav belongs to @thedomesticanthropologist! A gorgeous yet seemingly cold-hearted druid who tends to keep his cards close to his chest. Though if you want the challenge you can see for yourself if you can try and get close to him to see if Sivvus is as closed off as he seems to be.
To be quite honest, Sivvus really grew on me. A very fancy Eladrin with a high society (fey society) upbringing ( with very good looking mood boards to match) and the like only for him to be thrust into the bg3 world with a worm to boot. He is charming! Also his backstory? <3 Defienetly go read it!
10/10 would draw the snob again :)
Second off we have Gum (He/They)! A Githyanki Cleric of Mystra. Being @piipaw's Tav you'd find this charming fruit lover trying to live a peaceful life after escaping from the creche that raised them.
I like Gum a lot as the concept of a githyanki trying to find their own way in Faerun while also having no idea about any of the social customs is very gripping to me. I recommend greatly to check out the blog for Gum fics, fanart and a very cool moot . :)
Next is H'rayn of Verkos (she/her)! Now different from all the character's I drew, H'rayn is not a Tav! She's actually a pseudo-companion character with a lotta lore and history! She even has her own quest, party banter, approval and disapproval things. It's the whole deal!! @githkisser made an amazing post all about H'rayn . If you want a ton of indepth and fun info that's really really well documented, I cannot overstate how much you should it check out!
I find myself going back to learn more about H'rayn as she really is as well thought out as in game companions! It's quite fun thinking up of ways tavs can interact with her and the art is mwah!!! very good indeed :3
4th! Tavern (Tav) the Bard! (they/them) This darling bard ran away from the circus.....from birth! Created by @avocado-writing, Tavern plays their way into your heart with their silly antics, warm heart and eldritch pocket dimension in their chest!
Tavern is a doll to doodle and I am amped to draw them even more in the future. The heterochromia and the inclusion of instruments does make them a fun challenge (i will draw instruments accuratley with these paws eventually). Go check them out!! :D
5th! Hvinidyr the Barbarian (he/him)! @star-bear-art (I just realised after all this we aren't actually mutuals. Which is funny since we kinda have the same name and theme with the bear thing XD)
If you wanna see wonderous art of Hvinidyr as well as the other companions, go look right over here!
Winnie (Hvinidyr) has a lot of forms depending on the time period you wanna look at. The one I chose was the most recent with the large scar tissue all over the left (right? I'm horrible at directions, my paws don't make an L shape for me to tell). He was really fun to sketch out (and probably later colour in) and has a really unique design that I appreciate :)
6th Vierlin the Enchantment Wizard (and a lil' bit rouge)!!!(she/her) @sybaritick's Tav!!! Now!! This classic drow has a keen intrest in enchantment magic, teaching her crafts to nobles in Amn. After the whole tadpole fiasco, she also finds another use for her multitude of arcane skills. Most notabley depicted with a local wizard.
Now I won't get ahead of myself here but the fics that Sybaritick wrote about Vierlin are like....licking a warm pan of thickened maple syrup or a fancy meat meal with so much demi-glaze you're left smacking your lips for at least 20 mins after eating. Its indulgent. And I couldn't recommend it enough!! Read it!!
(it took me a good 8 times to get the 'ie' part of Vierlin's name right, the letters look the same to me)
7th Fink the Spores Druid (they/them) belonging to @causticcontemplation! They're a pretty short Tav a 2.5ft and have a whole modern AU fic about them!!! You can read all about it here! (the pun name is amazing!)
I found it cool to use the fic to figure out how to colour them in, I ended up sending an anon ask instead and it helped great! Lovely Tav 10/10!
8th Korydass the Druid!! (She/her)!!! Conjured by @cfcreative, this seemingly non-emotive bronze dragonborn lights a spark in viewers as her tail and love for nature portrays otherwise. Art of Kory is many and also very good. Reading through her lore is fun watching her dynamics with the different origin characters change as she opens up to the party.
Now I do have slight bias, I like drawing Kory the most since her head shape is less humanoid. It's just so satifying, also her design is crazy awesome to work with so all around its great recommend I like her a lot :3
9th Asheera the Paladin (she/her) produced by @optiwashere.
To be quite honest I wouldn't even have a blog if it wasn't for Asheera's fics. They are EXCELLENT. If you want to go through a journey of a half orcs struggles, successes and gripping romance with Shadowheart, VAULT YOURSELF into Opti's A03 page and devour. You will have negative regrets about it just like I!
Asheera is great I love her a lot I am the most normal about her.
(I'll keep it brief since this post is long enough to cross a river)
10th Quin the Bard (he/him) composed by @quinthebard (who'd have known?)
This darling plucky bard is the star of an ongoing comic that is very dynamic and very gripping. (My fave panel is this one). Despite being 100, Quin still maintains his joyful and kind nature when traveling with the tadpole gang.
Definetly one of the most friendlies Tavs out of all the ones i've drawn. (he was also the first i drew out of all of these!) He's a delight!! Go check him out!
Thanks to all my moots for giving permission, having such great characters and being such lovely moots! <3 <3 <3
(Any pronouns or other changes that want be changed, feel free to DM about it. I love those! )
#Any spelling mistakes#incomplete sentances or nonsense words found in the post shall be fix post-posting.#Re-reading my work make my eyes glaze over and that doesn't help anyone#bg3#bg3 tav#not my tav#not my TAVSSSSS#Also not my pseudo-companion#To be honest this took longer than actually animating Dame Aylin#But it was far more fun so it felt quick#Like i'm making art for moots!!!#What tops that????#feel free to DM me about your Tavs#Or to rp! i wanna try that!#Okay I'll be in my torpor if anyone needs me
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Letter prompts - any or all!
Minsc to Hector
Lae'zel to Gale
Rion to Karlach
Shadowheart to Isobel and Aylin
Nine Fingers to Jaheira
(Letter fic prompts!)
TY as always for the prompts, friend! <3 Sorry it took a bit to get them done, but I did all of them bc I loved the ideas so much. XD
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(Minsc to Hector - a note scribbled on a crumpled piece of parchment with one corner slightly chewed off. Left on Hector's bedside table in the Elfsong, three hours before dawn on the cold, rainy morning before the battle with the Netherbrain.)
My friend!
Do not fear to find Minsc’s bunk empty when you wake; know that I have gone ahead to clear the path! The sewers that stand between us and our wrinkly foe are well known to Minsc and Boo, and we shall see to it that they are well-scrubbed of evil that might hinder us in our final journey. A fine tale it would make for us to travel towards a battle for the world's fate and be delayed by a passing bandit!
Should we have no further time to speak before all is chaos, Boo wishes you to know you have been a fine companion, a hero to rank high among all those he has traveled with. And Minsc would say the same, though Minsc does not juggle words with Boo’s skill.
Boo and I have traveled across many years in an instant, and much has changed. We did not think to find a company with which we could feel heroes again, not least after Minsc was made a puppet of the Absolute’s worm. With Jaheira, with you, Minsc has remembered what it is to be alive, to fight for goodness, and this city's every shadow trembles to know it.
Though evil brings the brain, Hector and his friends shall bring the brawn! And Minsc is proud to be among them!
(signed with the letter M and a very small pawprint in ink)
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(Lae'zel to Gale - a note carved in the spiraling gith script into a large flat rock, lacking the fine materials of true githyanki slate, written in camp deep in the Underdark.)
When you can read this, you may consider yourself a true scholar worthy of the secrets of githyanki magic. Until then, cease your inane questioning of matters far beyond your appreciation; my time is better spent in recuperation than in the education of overambitious istik.
A note is attached to the rock, written in Common in careful, precise handwriting: Ever so sorry to disappoint you, my dear sa’varsh, but my inane questioning shall continue unabated. I do, however, thank you for the opportunity to reacquaint myself with Comprehend Languages! I so rarely get a chance to turn that one out for a bit of exercise.
Below these words on the note is scribbled a considerably less meticulous tir’su spiral scrawled in ink: That is *not* what I meant, and you know it, kainyank.
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(Rion to Karlach - a note sent by standard post to the Elfsong, several days after the party's visit to Elerrathin's Home.)
Karlach,
You're kidding me - you're Pluck Cliffgate's kid? I carried messages for him now and again; he talked about you plenty, and I did see you once, maybe seven years old, darting all over the Wide like a little hurricane. Small world, I guess. Odd to think that I’m more or less the same and you’ve shot up to be taller than I am. Elf blood’s a funny thing.
I know you’re hoping for exciting stories about growing up with the High Harper but the truth is I don’t have much to offer. She wasn’t any kind of “heroic adventurer” to me - she was just Mother, and she never much liked to talk about the past, not even about my father. I heard more about her from bards in taverns than I ever heard from her own mouth - and some of it I wish I could scrub back out of my brain.
You ever hear a bawdy called “The Harper’s Head”? Yeah, now imagine that was your mum they were singing about. Awful.
She was good to us, though, in her own way. I know you saw me bite her head off and her bite mine right back; that’s just how we’ve always been. But she saw to it I grew up strong, that I knew how to fight, and how to keep my head down when the time called for it. Harper things, mostly, even though I don’t think she ever wanted me to be one.
She taught me how to take no shit, too. Her mistake, because now I don’t take hers either. But I think she’d rather that than otherwise.
After a while, the other kids just started drifting in - first for a meal here or there, then a bed, then before you knew it, this was their home. Another one in the pack. It’s strange, really. I always knew deep down - even when I was a kid who didn’t have words for it yet, just knew it was confusing and it hurt - that part of her really wanted to be back on the road, not tied down with us in this mess of a city. But somehow every time one of us moved out, she’d found another to bring in, almost like clockwork.
I think she’s been looking for something, all this time. But I don’t think she knows what it is, any more than I do, or what she’d do with it if she found it.
Not an exciting story, like all the tales you’ve heard. But it’s truth; I can tell you that much.
It probably won’t surprise you that I haven’t had a message from her since you left. But you can tell her I’m off to the refugee camp in the morning. We’ll hold our end of things, and see they’re taken care of. Take care of that bloody brain, and maybe I’ll find a better story to tell when you’re done.
Rion
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(Shadowheart to Aylin (and Isobel by proxy); several conjoined messages by a series of Sending spells, dispatched from somewhere on the edge of Waterdeep)
> Aylin… your mother's house is beautiful. I never imagined such a place. It's… foolish, perhaps, but I wanted to let you know I've seen it.
> I still carry the spear with me. Once dark, now light. Like me. Still surprised you didn't crack us both across your knee like Lorroakan.
> You gave me a second chance. I hadn't earned it; I wanted to kill you. The great difference between Shar and Selune. Cruelty versus mercy.
> A lot’s happened since then. I found my parents. Shar's last joke at my expense. You were right about everything. That I had to act.
> So I'm free now. Of all of it. One day I will think of a way to repay you both for your kindness. Your wisdom.
> I don't know what plans call you now, but should you travel near Waterdeep in the next fortnight-- OW! Yes, yes, I'll tell her, calm--
[a slight pause]
> Please also tell Isobel that Buddy says hello. The morsels she used to slip him in camp have purchased her a permanent owlbear friend.
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(Nine-Fingers to Jaheira - a note left in a dead drop at Danthelon’s in the middle of the night.)
Jaheira. You’ve GOT to call off the Rashemaar. He’s driving us all insane trying to teach us the good path; on all the gods, either I’m going to beat the hells out of him or someone else will. I don’t care what you do - take him on an adventure, lock him in the cellar, turn him into a statue again, hold the hamster for ransom. But something. Fuck’s sake.
He listens to you. Starting to think you’re the only one he does listen to. Like a pup with one master. It’d be cute if it wasn’t so infuriating.
We all want the same thing - this city safe and strong. But he’s got to learn that we don’t all go about it the same way, or sooner or later there’s going to be trouble.
Astele NF
#ask meme#astreamofstars#hector carlisle#minsc#lae'zel#gale dekarios#rion bg3#jaheira#karlach#nine fingers keene#shadowheart#dame aylin#isobel thorm#these were fun to write c:#hope you enjoy <3#bg3 fic#bg3 fanfic#bg3#bg3 fanfiction
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Alright so I told myself I wouldn't post anything about it... but I still can't stop thinking about the A!Astarion kisses, Tav/Durge's face during it, and the stupid blow up around it. So here we go
Warnings: This is long and rambly and contains all kinds of spoilers. I am an A!Astarion lover. I will not be responding to discourse on this post. I do not care if you disagree. Make your own vent post.
OKAY so the brunt of the arguments I keep trying to ignore seeing surrounding this are how the expressions are "immersion breaking" for A!A fans, and everyone else clowning on them (sometimes rightfully so tho, ngl) because "the game gives the player expressions all the time! why are u mad now? do u just want ur Tav/Durge to be a blank slate?? lmao idiot" which ??? okay it feels like ur purposefully missing the point.
Yeah, actually sometimes this game gives my Durge some really ooc reactions. And it does, in fact, bother me. That being said, that is to be expected when u take an oc u had for like ten years and try to stick them in a pre-programmed video game. Things are gonna get ooc sometimes.
It also though, is usually smaller moments. Or things that happen Once and then u move on. Conversations where I go "hmmm. he wouldn't say any of these. oh well." or moments where he reacts negatively to terrible things that this evil bastard would normally laugh at. OH. WELL.
Now here's where my frustration actually come in. This game does a really good job, probably a better job than anything else I've played, at letting u play an interesting evil char. Something more than just "I am Rude, Aggressive, and A Dick To Everyone" and thus being punished for it gameplay wise.
I can play The Dark Urge, literal child of the god of murder, a canon necrophiliac, cannibalistic, gore freak that was going to flatten the entire world. There is a whole ass plot line and ending (multiple achievements included!) surrounding doing just that. There's all kinds of nasty interactions/plot options programmed in.
Yet, to the best of my memory, my Durge doesn't look horrified when we choose to slaughter the grove. He doesn't look horrified when we choose to kill the Dame Aylin, or Isobel. He isn't Obviously Distraught when we choose to help Astarion complete the ritual, or when we kill Shadowheart's parents, or become an Unholy Assassin of Bhaal.
To my knowledge, the player character isn't made to look afraid when kissing Dark Justiciar!Shadowheart, nor when they are literally poisoned by kissing Minthara. Sure, u CAN be offended about it in the convo with her after, but its still ur choice as the player.
I mean shit, they even patched in (in that very same patch) a positive, supportive reaction from ur evil partners at the end when u take over the nether brain! (at least for A!Astarion, and Minthara) so now when u do the evil thing that u and ur evil partner have been talking about all game, they don't suddenly change their opinion the second u actually do it.
And I really appreciate that about bg3. I can make evil choices and get interesting outcomes rather than the game just locking me out of all content actually made for that quest. Like ffs u can only get Minthara's romance scene if u slaughter dozens of innocents.
THIS GAME REWARDS U FOR DOING THE BAD THING. And like the evil options do usually have drawbacks and/or are less fleshed out than the good ones, but there are whole ass plots arcs u will never see if u only play good chars. This game makes playing an evil character interesting.
So why is it that I can do all that, and make/have my Durge react (mostly) accordingly, yet the moment the partner I chose acts controlling, now is when my characters feelings are being decided for me?
I can spend the whole game hearing Astarion talk about how spawn are controlled, how all vampires want is power, and I can say to his face "yes! this character wants that! turn me!" and yet somehow... what? the creators think I didn't know?
It just genuinely doesn't make sense to me. Like I can choose, through dialogue, that my Durge is power hungry, and very into the idea of being Astarion's pretty little lap dog. He knew what he was signing up for! And yet he looks terrified when his vampire bf (who has been feeding on him all game) bites his lip?? really?
Idk I just have some really weird feelings on some of the ways they try to Really Emphasize that u made the wrong choice for Astarion specifically, and this just exemplifies that.
Either do the rest of ur characters this service, make all of them (make every choice in the game) a moral lesson for the player to learn, where u hold their hand and say "u didn't listen to what they actually needed :c u could have done the good thing but u didn't :c"
Or let me play my evil bastard. And let me revel in it.
#ascended astarion#is the ONLY tag i will be putting this in#commiserate with me fellow evil bastards#this post is not for the rest of the fandom lmfao#is this a bad idea to post at all? probably fghjgfdghj#but unfortunately i have Opinions
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Isobel, Before
On something of a whim I decided to compile, in chronological order, the flashback segments from Isobel's POV that are woven throughout Moon-chosen, Moon-guided. I was curious how they'd read, and it turns out I quite like how they do - so here they are posted as a standalone little prequelish thing, a series of windows into a developing relationship and some family drama. This includes the segment I wrote for the upcoming third chapter, so consider it a sneak peek of an update that will take me a little while longer because it decided to develop a plot or some such nonsense, you know how it is. The years are my own very rough guesses, trying to somehow work around the Spellplague while keeping it all approximately a century before the main plot of the game, so don't take them too seriously.
Fandom: Baldur’s Gate 3
Characters: Dame Aylin/Isobel Thorm, Ketheric Thorm
Length: ~8000 words
Rating: M, for canon-typical violence (including temporary character death) and sexual content
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1381 DR
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It is an unusually warm and bright summer day for Reithwin, the relentless sun urging you to rush your errands around town and make your way home to the merciful shade. And it is upon your return there that you find the glorious Dame Aylin laying waste to an army of training dummies in the otherwise empty practice field beneath Moonrise Towers.
You steal a moment to watch and appreciate the spectacle that is her entire being in perfectly orchestrated motion, uncharacteristically free of her ever-polished armour, sleeves rolled up - a vision of ferocity, even if it is against such laughably unworthy foes.
It calls to your mind, amusingly, the poor announcer in your father's audience chamber a little over a month ago, so very unusually formal and far too visibly nervous, struggling to rattle off one too many titles.
The Valiant Dame Aylin Silverblood, Undefeated Sword of the Moonmaiden, Paladin and Daughter of Selûne. Arriving as formal Emissary of Our Lady of Silver, speaking in Her name.
She turns when she hears you clearing your throat to announce your presence, an indulgent while after your arrival. Ever so slightly out of breath, with a subtle sheen of sweat on her radiant brow, she inclines her head with respect. "Ah! Lady Isobel. I was just thinking of sending to fetch you. A request, if you please."
"Of course, Dame Aylin." Anything for the resplendent emissary, you want to add, only half-teasingly. It is frustratingly difficult not to act a smitten fool around her, and sarcasm has proved a feeble defence from her charms.
Her request, however, is nowhere near anything you might have anticipated.
"I would have you meet me in the sparring ring, if you are willing."
You blink. "I-- pardon?"
"You are no mere lord's daughter, nor are you simply the demure local healer. I can tell by your bearing you have training. Not the typical mace of the clergy, no," she hums, as if in thought, looking you up and down quite brazenly, appraisingly. "The rapier, perhaps, along with a dagger for the offhand? No, rather, the quarterstaff--"
"The spear," you cut her off. And the lofty, approving tilt of her chin is so fetching as to be insufferable. "I can protect myself, you're right. My father is an accomplished general, after all," and stiflingly overprotective to boot, but that part you bite back and keep to yourself. "It is only fitting. Besides, any devotee of Our Lady knows how important it is to be able to fend for oneself."
"Show me, then, general's daughter," she gestures to the packed-dirt training ring with a grin. "I grow quite bored of this straw-filled wicker regiment I have been pitted against."
She's got a good head and a half of height on you. Her reach outclasses yours quite overwhelmingly. She is visibly broad and strong and unshakeable as a mighty fortress. And though you do indeed have training, the martial arts were hardly your main focus - very much unlike her.
A challenge, truly, but one you cannot help but suddenly crave.
"Fine, then, I accept." A giddiness washes over you as you speak, and your head feels oddly light. The heat and humidity of the day, surely. Treading dangerous ground, Isobel.
Aylin immediately goes over to the training weapon racks to put away the blunt sword she has been using, and you follow her.
"I have trained in arms of all sorts, but I find I most favour the greatsword," she muses as she rummages, retrieving two wooden staves with padded ends, testing their weight. "The spear I must confess I have neglected somewhat, in recent times."
You smirk as she hands you a staff that has evidently passed inspection. "There is no need for excuses, Dame Aylin. When I trounce you, I assure you it will have been fair and square and well deserved."
You expect the hearty bellow of her laugh, some lively banter in return, an exclamation, Ho! Instead, she inclines her head in a respectful gesture, and does so with a surprisingly soft smile and oddly inscrutable gaze in your direction. "I would expect no less of you, my lady."
You look away hastily, wipe the sweat from your hands and put on the leather gloves from your belt. The day has been far too hot for them and the afternoon sun is still beating down fiercely, but you are not about to embarrass yourself and risk losing on the technicality of a splinter.
Then, you face each other.
Her stance and the way she holds the wooden training weapon speak of years, decades… centuries of experience, perhaps. It is hard to truly imagine, and you find you do not really know. Immortal, yes, but… well, since when? Does she have a universe of deeds and escapades on you, a hundred lives lived to the fullest, or merely the knowledge that they lie ahead of her?
When could it possibly be polite to ask such a thing?
You shake away the distraction of your thoughts, just in time to block a quick, testing blow aimed at your own weapon. A tease, really, hoping for a reaction you know well enough not to provide.
She continues with the probing attacks, none of them with any real force behind them, and you think how under normal circumstances it might be a good strategy to let your opponent waste her strength and tire herself out like this - but you know better. You have discreetly observed enough of her training sessions to know that if she is anything at all she is tireless.
But she is leaving it up to you to attempt anything other than these light provocations. So you do - you would hate to disappoint, after all.
You strike out high at her head, once, twice, then at her front leg, swift as a viper, and when she moves her weapon down to parry, you jab at her shoulder and step back in time to avoid the afterblow.
"Oh-ho! An excellent feint, perfectly executed!" The joy that lights her face even as she rolls the struck shoulder is so infectious, you can't help but laugh breathlessly, warmed by this small triumph. "I was indeed correct in my assumption - the most noble Lady Isobel is not to be underestimated. Her skills and merit extend far beyond even the lofty requirements of her duties - be they of the court or of the faith."
The next strike you attempt, flushed with both the heat of the day and the effusive praise, is met with far more resistance, and soon you are exchanging blows with vigour. She repays your shoulder blow with a tap to your hip, then tries to strike the staff from your hands in a disarm you just barely avoid with a well-timed tilt.
Your next attempt at a feint is parried at the very last moment, but you do not retreat, and so you end in a bind. She is much stronger than you, yes, but your angle is superior, and you can see her straining to stay in position, close to that ever-important centreline, and keep her balance. A bead of sweat trails down her neck to her collarbone, and it takes you a moment to realise you are following it, rapt. It takes you another moment to register she is staring at you just as raptly, even as you feel your hair sticking to your temples and realise the paint around your eyes is likely a smudged mess.
Distraction. An opening if you've ever seen one.
"Do you know, when I heard an emissary of Selûne was coming to our town, I did not expect her to have a bard's silver tongue on her." Instead of moving to disengage and putting distance between you, you draw even closer to her, until your mouth is almost at her ear. "In more ways than one, perhaps?"
Her eyes are wide and her cheeks are flushed silver, shining. It is the oddest and most captivating blush you have ever seen, made only more so by the closeness of your study.
And of course, the moment of distraction proves sufficient for that slight shift you needed. The great oak topples with so little effort - leverage, always, the key. Her reaction is faster than you anticipated, however, and so with the force of her riposte you go down right after her. Foolish of you, really - the thought has time to rush through your mind as your sense of balance disappears - to underestimate an accomplished paladin so.
In any case, within moments, Aylin is on the ground, and you land atop her. You have enough presence of mind, somehow, despite the proximity and the warmth and the, well-- to reach for where your weapon started to roll away and press the end of it lightly against her neck. "Yield?"
She raises her hands, palms up in surrender, and nods, struck speechless for once.
You scramble rather gracelessly to your feet in all your triumph, and offer her a hand up. She accepts, then somewhat disappointingly lets go to dust herself off before you've had a chance to fully appreciate the feel of her hand in yours.
"Well!" Aylin turns the bright glint of her full attention on you, charmingly tousled still. "I see no point in struggling to prolong a losing battle. A challenge, skillfully won." She steps closer to you and inclines her head in a slight bow. "Besides, I can tell my yielding on the field of battle pleases you, and I am not one to deny a lady her pleasure."
All of it spoken with a smile, and a shockingly honest, unmasked, open, and entirely unabashed look in her eyes. Damn her.
You do your best, feebly, to catch your breath and return to something resembling calm propriety. And you fail to squash a niggling doubt. "Thank you for the bout, Dame Aylin. But… honestly now, were you holding back?"
"Only as much as is appropriate for the training ring, of course. One is never to exert one's full might in these circumstances, as you well know." She shakes her head, a small frown furrowing her brow, and you can't help but feel this is a recitation she has been made to repeat until it stuck, something she had to deliberately become aware of after getting carried away one too many times. A thought to file away for later, perhaps. "But not in the sense you doubtlessly meant, no. I would not pretend and deceive after asking a fair duel of you. Such things are beneath Dame Aylin."
The heat floods your cheeks again. Damn her phrasing.
"Ah," she clears her throat. "The day has grown too hot for martial pursuits, I fear - let us retire."
She offers you her arm, ever gallant. You allow yourself the bold indiscretion of taking it only after you have peeled off your gloves and tucked them back in your belt. You've not known Dame Aylin for a very long time, but you are well aware she is possibly the least subtle creature in all of Faerûn. The ill-concealed catch in her breath and stiffening in her shoulders as your skin meets hers is a treasured token you stow away for further contemplation.
It is a regrettably short walk to the pleasantly shaded entrance hall of Moonrise.
-
1382 DR
-
Sharran forces dare attack even here, in the shadow of your father's moonlit fortress, in the very heart of a famously devoted Selûnite region. Perhaps they heard, or tortured out of some poor soul, that their hated Moonwitch had sent an emissary.
But the emissary does not seem to be quite what they expected or prepared for.
You've heard of Dame Aylin's exploits, of some of the many glorious deeds to her name - well, to be quite honest, you've deliberately asked around for them and chased down all the tales, however ridiculous they seemed, with somewhat concerning single-mindedness. But none of them, not even the most outrageous exaggerations with all the force of poetic licence behind them, can compare to actually seeing her in the heat of battle.
It is certainly dangerous to be so distracted in the midst of a clearly planned and organised assault on your home, and it is especially egregious to keep looking up, chasing a vision as it flies somewhere high above all of you, soaring over the head of your father's statue gracing the centre of the embattled town square. But she is so utterly glorious and radiant and filled with unquestionable purpose in all that she does, and you are utterly beyond help.
"Selûne, Moonmother, in Your name!" The clear voice suddenly rings out from somewhere close by, drowning out the din of battle in your ears. You turn just in time to see a flash of silver light engulf one of the masked attackers, burnished black disks brazenly displayed on their armour, and, well, you are not the only one smitten.
But then - disaster. Three of Moonrise's most recently recruited silver-bedecked guards find themselves stumbling into a group of enemies that close a circle around them. You see one of them fall, gripped by inky-purple strands, before you can even start to intone a spell; another one loses his footing and opens himself up for a deadly blow.
Quick as lightning, Aylin rushes down and forward, pushing the stumbling guard fully out of the way. Instead of him, the cultist's scimitar finds purchase in her gut, sliding through a gap between armour-plates like butter, and another's obsidian-black axe bites into her shoulder.
The sound it makes, that Aylin makes, draws a shout from you. A bolt of moonlight dispatches the first cultist, rage and terror somehow making your aim uncanny, and you step forward to bathe the rest of his nearby comrades in deadly, burning radiance before he has even hit the ground.
After this, the battle is over as quickly as it had begun. The last of the attackers falls on her own blade rather than be captured and questioned, crying out some pitiful, ill-conceived mantra about secrets.
You find you do not care: your world, for the moment, has sunk down to the breadth of one woman lying on the trampled ground in a distressingly rapidly growing pool of silver, the guards she saved hovering around her in a mix of awe and alarm.
They let you through without hesitation - you are a cleric, after all. A healer. But as you drop to your knees at her side and attempt to assess the damage, you can tell you are too late.
Your hands fly in well-practised movements all the same.
"Do not worry, fearsome, fair Isobel," Aylin manages, breathily, barely audible, around a mouthful of blood. Her hand makes a very weak attempt at a dismissive wave, or grabbing your wrist to stop your ministrations, you cannot quite tell. Her helmet and her wings are both already gone, and the silver burning in her gaze just moments ago is a weak flicker. "I--"
Her eyes flutter closed and she falls limp beneath your hands and you--
--do not have time to even begin to comprehend what has happened before she is gasping awake again, coughing and groaning, spitting up a clot, trying to sit up.
You gape for a moment, then help her in her efforts, lean her against your chest. The weight of the armour feels like it might crush you, but moving away feels unthinkable.
"No tears, no," she mumbles, half-coherently, as you strain to understand, as a gauntleted hand reaches up to brush against your cheek clumsily. "So mundane a blow cannot… truly fell… Dame Aylin."
It is one thing to be aware of it in theory. Another thing entirely to witness it. Immortal.
There is a crowd gathered around you by now, you register faintly. People crying out prayers of praise and thanks to the Moonmaiden, for Her infinite wisdom and Her endless gifts and the indomitable daughter-champion She has blessed you all with. You feel a tug in your chest, like you should be joining in; like you would be the one leading the prayer in ordinary circumstances.
But you feel terribly far away from it all even as Aylin's breath grows more steady as she leans against you. You see her smile, still bloody, and understand only the most general sense of the reassuring platitudes she is whispering at you.
You bring her to the House of Healing with the other wounded of the battle and insist rather possessively on treating her yourself. Only afterwards do you tear yourself away from her bedside to take full stock of damage and casualties while she sleeps it off.
Your father rushes to embrace you tightly as soon as he catches sight of you from the House's grand entrance, and you let yourself cling to him for a moment. You do your best to assuage his worries, claim - lie - that you were in no real danger, insist on continuing to help here where you are most needed as he returns to his gubernatorial duties. And somehow, miraculously, he lets you go.
As you help the dutiful sisters with the worst of it, you finally manage to focus on murmuring your own prayer of thanks. It helps clear the long-clinging fog from your mind. And it helps, truly, that you count no deaths among Reithwin's faithful - the only fallen today are Shar's to claim if she deigns to do so.
Well - and then there's Aylin.
You go to check on her in the morning, after you've managed - been forced into, rather - a very brief nap.
The glorious and apparently unconquerable Dame Aylin is awake, reclining against the headboard of the only occupied bed in that wing. You don't recall requesting she receive any special treatment, and she doesn't look too pleased with being singled out as if in a place of honour - in fact, she mostly looks bored. She is frowning down at herself, plucking at loose threads hanging off of the bandages that cover most of her shoulder, chest, and abdomen - your own handiwork.
You step into the room and set down the basin of fresh water and an assortment of healing supplies with a deliberately loud clatter, jarring her out of her reverie. The moment she sees you, an expression of blatant joy dawns on her face. You try very hard not to read too much into it.
Instead, you make very standard proper-bedside-manner-dictated small talk as you peel away the gauze. The wounds are mostly healed, as you would expect from your application of any and all magic you had remaining that night, but there is a small line of gold running down towards her left side, where the blade bit in and through, and another one cupping across her shoulder. Oddly beautiful for what is presumably a scar - and highlighting the marvellous build of a finely muscled torso, pipes up a segment of your mind that has no place around a sickbed.
You wrench yourself back into professionalism and lightly press down with your fingers, following the shining gold, the freshly knit-together skin, still reddened and bruised in places. "Do you feel any pain when I do this?"
"None at all," Aylin answers resolutely, entirely back to her old self. But then- "Ah," she winces as you find a particularly sore spot, expression wry, "it would appear I spoke too soon."
You trace back up, murmuring incantations, letting the cool, healing relief flow from your fingertips.
The way she is unphased by all of this seems… uncanny. In fact, she shows more concern for you, completely untouched by the battle, than for herself. It is oddly and slightly frighteningly flattering, in retrospect, that she used her dying breath - well, this particular dying breath - to reassure you.
And it all makes much more sense now, as things slot into place. The recklessness of her fighting style, of her whole manner. The way she shrugged off blows and rushed ever forward, where the battle was thickest and fiercest.
But now you've seen she is immortal, yes, but not invulnerable, however much she might like to act like she is both. And if she pulls herself out from literal death, no matter the scope of the wounds, she does not seem to magically heal much past that - the evidence is before you now. You can already picture her merely patching herself up with her own healing magic in the middle of the fray, as if in passing, just enough to enable her to storm on. All while her enemies gape and turn tail when they realise the futility of standing against her.
"I only hope you did not worry overmuch, Lady Isobel. It is in my nature, inextricable from my being. I cannot fall, not truly. But I keep the reminders, sometimes - wrought in gold."
Then she very cordially points out a few more, as if to indulge you. Some bigger, some smaller, some thin lines, barely there, some wide and jagged. But all of them bright gold seams, seamlessly integrated into her skin.
"Why not silver?" You blurt out, then feel your face burn with embarrassment. And then a mild but growing horror as you think back to the silver staining your hands and robes as you knelt on the damp cobblestones. This is in turn chased away by an odd warmth as you recall how she murmured your name and reached for your face.
Aylin, however, guffaws joyfully, stopped short only by a sudden wince as she pulls something still tender.
"Would you believe - I do not know? It is simply how I am, how I have always been. Perhaps I shall ask my Mother to elucidate, when next we commune." Then she beams at you. "What a joy and pleasure you have proven to be, Lady Isobel. To make me consider things about myself I have never had cause nor inclination to before. A rare treasure."
You blame your lack of sleep on the ease with which she is managing to fluster you without even seeming to consciously try, so you do your best to keep your response polite and nothing more. "The pleasure is all mine, I assure you, Dame Aylin. All of Reithwin treasures your presence and is grateful for it, especially after tonight."
She looks up at you and you meet her gaze, pausing in your ministrations. She looks disappointed, if anything, and the disappointment is shared - those are not the words you truly wish to say to her. And you cannot quite explain to yourself why you feel like a sudden distance has sprung up between you, after months of a beautifully built-up rapport, laid on the foundations of those first few shared star-struck gazes. Why this one out of all the many reminders of her divine nature has shaken you so.
As you continue reapplying bandages and keep distractedly checking in with her about the tightness, she catches your hand and presses a kiss to your knuckles. "My wounds are a distant memory, for they are being tended by fair Isobel--"
There is a naked determination writ all over her face now. It brings to mind her battlefield bearing, more than anything else, but her eyes are wide and soft and almost pleading.
"Truly, I am in the best of hands." A kiss again, and she lets the hand go. It is a perfectly polite and courteous gesture. Nothing… scandalous. But there is a clear ardour to it you did not acknowledge before. Calling attention to a line you have not yet crossed, but that you have both, perhaps, been toeing for a while.
Then she moves to sit up fully, even through visible winces, and shrugs off the steadying hand you place on her shoulder.
"You are the worst patient I have ever had," you state dramatically, laughing. She merely cocks her head in response, so very winning and charming even when still covered in blood, dirt, and partially unravelled bandages. "I will go get some more fresh water so you can clean up - though we've already ruined these sheets, I fear."
But you do not move, despite your words. Your eyes have not left hers in what seems like hours, but can't have been more than a minute. There is a blatant yearning there that you know is reflected in your gaze, that you have both become utterly incapable of hiding.
"I would ask, greedily, another boon of my most gracious healer," she murmurs.
"Oh?" You lean closer, ostensibly to hear her quiet words better. "Why, Dame Aylin, after your valiant performance tonight, I might just grant it."
You are almost nose to nose when Aylin speaks up again, her throat visibly working, her entire impressive self working up the courage to leap the distance - and you find you very much want her to.
"A kiss, then. To drink but once from the lips of the incomparable Lady Isobel Thorm would soothe all that ails me, seal all my wounds."
You watched this woman take an axe to the shoulder and a sword through the belly, and only now does she sound hesitant. Nervous. Afraid, even. The smallest of trembles in that rich, regal voice.
"If… if I have misread, if I have misinterpreted your intentions, I beg your forgiveness with all possible contrition…"
Your reply is wordless as you surge forward, boon happily granted. The first of many to come.
-
1383 DR
-
The dinner is only slightly awkward, as far as these affairs have gone in the past. The most notable thing about it is that your father, it seems, has learned from last time.
Oh, Lady Arianella Bormul was lovely - the very picture of elegance and rather breathtaking grace. A crown of curls you felt a stab of envy over, a perfectly cut gown that accentuated every curve of her and every dark blush shade of her skin. Carrying herself like a queen in the dining room, but perfectly polite and amicable in the conversations you two were inevitably forced into afterwards, with intriguing flashes of a cutting wit. But you shared so very little. And she was beautiful like a work of art whose objective qualities everyone agreed upon, you included, but that just were not to your personal taste.
Now you wonder just how obvious you'd made it.
As your father shoots you pointed glances from across the table and over a strategically placed carafe of wine, you allow yourself, briefly, an entire slew of unkind thoughts. About how maybe things would be different if your mother were still here. About how much easier it would be if you had siblings, so that the entire future of Reithwin and the Thorm family and your father's heart didn't rest on your shoulders. About how selfish you truly would like to be.
Then you shove it all back down and smile at the guests around the table, and offer your opinion about the most excellent skills of your local mason's guild and their potential for expansion.
The young Lady Jana Whitburn is strategically sat right across from you, as her father and yours conduct the important conversations on venison and marble and slate trade that this visit was ostensibly arranged for. She is tall and broad and clad in a marvellously fetching brocade suit of dark green. Her mother, rather obviously focused on you since their arrival in what is clearly a tactical division of duties agreed upon in advance, talks about Jana's successes in the tournament arenas across the Coast and her pending performance in Waterdeep's Field of Triumph. She herself, in a pleasantly deep yet melodic voice, mentions being interested in jousting, as a means of keeping her riding skills sharp while she is not out and about keeping her family's lands safe. Tilts her head at you with a winning smile at the conclusion of one adventurous story or other, the sharp cut of her chiselled jaw accentuated in perfect candlelight. You smile back, and poke half-heartedly at your tasteless dessert.
Later, you take her for a walk in Reithwin's small but well-kept gardens. She very gallantly offers you her arm, and you take it. Your father and her parents beam, and you contain your sigh. But when you look up at your companion, you are slightly surprised to notice that there is something brewing behind her eyes as well.
As soon as you are out of eyesight and earshot, you stop, take your hand off her arm and turn to face her.
"My apologies, Lady Whitburn…"
She almost winces when you address her, and shakes her head as if she is trying to physically shake off the formality and the trailing remnants of the dinner atmosphere. "Jana, please, Lady Thorm."
"Jana, then," you smile your most agreeable smile, "and so I must be Isobel, no?"
"Of course, Isobel," she smiles back, but it is clearly strained, and you feel nothing so much as pity.
"Listen, Jana, I…" you hesitate, struggling to put your words into polite, inoffensive shape.
All this does is highlight the lack of Aylin, the lack of the connection and utterly natural understanding between the two of you. The ease. Even when there was supposed to be some fundamental and unbridgeable rift between you, according to your father.
"I'm afraid my father has misled you and your family - not out of any desire to harm, nor with ill intent. But, you see, I… I already have a lovely woman courting me. Well, rather further along than mere courting, I would say…"
To your surprise, Jana bursts into laughter, light and clear, and you are spared the embarrassment of elaborating further.
"Isobel, you cannot believe what a relief that is for me to hear."
You pause, a bit taken aback by the enthusiasm of her response. "Oh?"
"I'm afraid I count myself taken as well. Now, make no mistake, you are perfectly charming, and a delight in conversation. But," she waves a dismissive hand, "the heart wants what it wants and all that."
"That it does," you agree, and this time your smile is genuine. A tension you had gotten so used to seems to melt away from your shoulders, and the two of you resume your stroll among the gardener's latest offerings. "My father, well… he's a shrewd man. You and my Aylin would get along splendidly, I think."
"As would you and my Iona. She is training to be a cleric too, an acolyte of Ilmater. I swear, the realms have never seen a more patient and kind creature. Whenever I visit her at the temple I take a moment to observe her finishing her rounds - the way she all but glows with compassion is-" Jana halts both her words and her steps, slightly embarrassed, as if she has only now caught herself in her charmingly lovestruck enthusing. "Ah, but I've gone off on a tangent, haven't I?"
You cannot help but smile at the sight of someone so utterly, beautifully enamoured. It is, after all, a feeling you happily know all too well.
"Please," you gesture at a bench behind some conveniently tall rose bushes - one of your favourite spots. "Don't stop on my account. Though, of course, now I can't help but wonder… what is your family's objection to the match? If you don't mind me asking."
Jana gives a wry smile as she takes a seat. "My parents would prefer someone of much higher birth for me."
"I think mine would prefer I set my sights lower," you chuckle ruefully.
Jana's interest seems to be piqued. "Is that so? I've heard some… rumours, since our arrival. I've been wondering about, well, what kernel of truth spawned them."
"Have you, now?" You arch an eyebrow, allow a bit of bite into your tone. "You've barely been here a day - I wouldn't have taken you for a gossipmonger."
"You'll have to forgive my natural curiosity," her grin is as easily charming as it was during the dinner, but now, in the unexpectedly pleasant atmosphere of friendly understanding, you allow yourself to fully appreciate it, and to grin back. "But you must admit it's a bit unusual, Isobel. A celestial paramour… I suppose your father wants you to look lower than the very moon in the sky?"
Her dramatic gesture in the general direction of said moon earns her a giggle, which she seems to take as encouragement.
"Is it true she single-handedly took on a score of Nightcloaks and won?"
You think back over the many rousing tales of victory Aylin has shared with you, and when nothing rings a bell you realise she must be talking about the raid last spring.
"You mean here, when the Sharrans dared to attack Reithwin?" It's hard to contain your amusement at her eager nod. "Well, it wasn't exactly single-handed and there were no Nightcloaks among the Sharran forces, but I can confirm she was certainly impressive."
You decide to leave out the part about Aylin dying and coming back right before your eyes. It is something you've yet to discuss with her, more than a full year later. Something you've no idea how to bring up, and something that inspires in you feelings you cannot quite define.
Something you know you will have to confront, one day.
For now, you sit on a secluded bench and shirk familial duties with a fellow highborn daughter. The two of you trade stories for the rest of the evening, and by the end of it you feel like you've known both Jana Whitburn and Iona Bluewater for years, and find yourself rather invested in the future of their relationship. In turn, you hope to have painted a picture of an Isobel who is more than just General Thorm's daughter, and of an Aylin who is something besides her divine silver bloodline.
You part amicably when the time comes, even promise to write to one another. Later on, the leave-takings complete, both of you having played your respective parts well enough to buy yourselves some very brief reprieve, you go to retreat to your room. Every stair you climb still seems to drop your heart that much deeper into a listless moroseness.
The air in your room is heavy and stale after the garden's freshness, so you decide to take your brooding out to your balcony. You may have won a friend today, but your father will be in a dour mood when he finds out his attempt has once again fallen through. And then how long until he plans another? Or turns to something else? No, this was simply untenable--
A gleaming Aylin alights on the balcony and pulls you into an embrace in a single, elegant movement, and it is like a moon rising to dispel the dark of a cloudy night.
The first thing you notice as you are subjected to one kiss after another is that your beloved seems to be of a rather amorous disposition. You still wear your jewels and your finest silver-blue gown, the picture-perfect lady. But with the way Aylin's hands are wandering you sense this might not be the case for very long.
You place a hand on her chest, the metal pleasantly cool against your palm, and she stops, looking at you both questioningly and with blatant yearning.
Which should be ridiculous. You were barely apart for a day! You've gone longer without seeing each other whenever Aylin flew away on some divinely ordained quest. But the feelings you read on her face are a perfect reflection of your own, and you are sick of the very thought of denying them. Instead, you throw your arms around her and draw her close once more.
"I missed you," you murmur the truth into her neck, just above the edge of her gorget, into that bit of unearthly pale skin that is always so conveniently available for you to kiss.
"I have dutifully stayed away, exactly as you bade me to," Aylin doesn't sound too disgruntled, and for that you find yourself both grateful and relieved. "But your guests are gone at long last, and so I consider my duty done."
You suppress a scowl at the bitterness that rises in you - because yes, you did pull Aylin aside and request, against the palpable wishes of every fibre of your being, that she not show herself around Moonrise today. All in the ultimately futile pursuit of appeasing your father, in a way so shallow and childish and stupidly, obviously temporary that you feel a flare of anger - disgust, even - at yourself for not standing your ground. For going along with it all in the first place. But the slight yet audible disdain Aylin puts on the word guests is too conspicuous, too intriguing, and so your curiosity trumps your rising guilt.
"Do you have something against the Whitburn family?" Surely, if there was something objectionable about them, your father wouldn't have invited them the way he did. Aylin would have warned you of anything sinister. But then, suddenly, a different, more darkly amusing flavour of thought arises. "Or do you merely not like Lady Jana Whitburn?"
Aylin huffs, tilts her head with an unconvincing nonchalance. "She seems a fine woman. A knight with several deeds to her name - in particular some courageous outings against a local Cyricist offshoot, very recently. I hear she conducted herself with utmost skill and bravery."
"You've looked into her, I see?" You ask teasingly. Aylin's frown is an entire hundred-page novel. "Aylin. Are you jealous?"
The tinge of possessiveness in the way she holds you against her chest is clear to you now. You also find you have no complaint to give.
"I cannot help but feel this latest attempted match is… rather shrewdly targeted. Do you not find it so? Why, I would near take it as a slight."
With some reluctance, you pull away the slightest bit in order to face her properly.
"Aylin, look at me," you tilt her chin up, make her meet your eyes, reaching over to smooth the thundercloud frown away from her brow. "Forget about it, about them. I would have none but you - you know this by now, I hope. Only you."
Forever, you dearly wish you could say, sometimes. Your fingers trace down her cheek and to her lips as you watch her ire pour back into fervour.
"Isobel, I swear, from the moment our eyes first met, I--"
You interrupt her with a kiss - she is too striking and too beautiful and too achingly, passionately devoted not to.
The entire situation is a problem to solve, and a mounting one. You can tell by your own rising annoyance and resentment each time the subject comes up that you cannot entertain your father's attempts at denying your relationship for much longer. But you can sense in both your and Aylin's current moods that any discussion will be anything but productive.
You break apart, but stay close enough for you to whisper against her mouth. "Why don't we stop wasting time, and instead of wallowing in misery, you take me to bed."
A different frown creases her brow now as she inclines her head towards the door you left ajar behind you. "Your bed? Here?"
You glance back as well, almost drawn in and through the imposing towers of Moonrise and all they represent.
"Yes," you reply with little hesitation. You decide then and there to be done with this farce. No more flying away to stay at Last Light, or utterly unsubtle attempts at sneaking off, slinking back before dawn only to present yourself downstairs come morning, unacknowledged but fooling nobody. There are other methods in your arsenal besides pointless subterfuge. "And tomorrow - if you wish to join us, of course - I would like to invite you to breakfast. Where you will sit at my side."
Where you belong, you swallow back, keeping your mock-proclamation formal. Where the world should and will acknowledge you belong.
Aylin's smirk reassures you she understands fully how you intend to play this. "How could I decline my lady's invitation?"
You tilt your chin up, the picture of a lady issuing a decree, even as your lips curl into a smile. "Despite any slights, intended or not, and protests from my family, it is an honour to have you here. I will see that it is better demonstrated, as it should have been from the start."
Or perhaps it would be better to say how it was at the start, before Ketheric Thorm's welcome for Selûne's emissary cooled down to an icy, formal tolerance - of course, exactly as your and Aylin's relationship blossomed, decidedly informal, regardless.
Aylin's mouth is hot on your neck as she effortlessly lifts you up and carries you inside. You feel her grin through her kisses. "I think, Isobel, you'll find the honour is all mine. And so is having you. Here or anywhere else."
You cannot help but laugh, taking her face between both your hands and peppering it with kisses in return, always delighted by her utter lack of both subtlety and hesitation.
Once Aylin plants you on the bed and herself between your thighs, she refuses to stop until your legs are jelly, your head is void of all thought, and your heels have pressed shimmery bruises into her back. Her face both glows and glistens when she rests her cheek against your stomach at long last, alight with some private amusement and sheer pride. You thread your hands through her hair and catch your breath, and bask in her presence.
So magnificent in her devotion, your angel.
You spend the night curled around each other in a too-small bed, both of you choosing to be utterly brazen.
-
1385 DR
-
You were very young when your mother died. The searing, half-understood pain of her departure had time to dull into an ache, then into a sense of absence you have grown up with, that will always be yet another part of you. You keep her final letter, and reread it less and less as the years and then decades go by. You can hear and feel her words just as well in the soft, warm moonlight that blankets Reithwin on blessed nights. It makes you feel like you can firmly grasp and hold and understand all that she tried to leave you with.
There is a distinct sense that she is proud of you. That she will see you again one day and tell you so herself. So you smile up at the Moon, the ever-changing treasured constant in your life, and bask in the pale, gentle love you receive in return.
When you lost a mother, Reithwin lost its head cleric. In the years since, it has had only interim duty-bearers. And you understood, years ago, even as you settled into a promising role in the House of Healing, that you were being looked to as the replacement.
And true - this has ever been your calling. You feel you were born for this service, sometimes, so easily does it come to you - the deeply felt devotion, the lightness of moonlight always ready at your fingertips, the sheer awareness of Her presence, of all She gives and provides and strives for. A cause so good and just and right you would barely deign to call it a choice - though a choice it is, always, freely made by you, again and again and again.
So when you reject the notion of taking up office at Reithwin - at least for the foreseeable future - and announce your plan for undertaking several pilgrimages of increasing length and complexity, it causes a stir among the clergy and a dark thundercloud to settle upon your father's brow.
The further away the locations you list as you stand before him in his study, oddly formal, the deeper his frown becomes. By the time you mention leaving Waterdeep and the House of the Moon and the settlements on the way to Neverwinter, he raises a hand to cut you off.
"I do not think this is wise, Isobel. There is need of you here. The roads are perilous--"
"I can take care of myself. You know I can, papa - you've seen to that. I have trained and prepared for this all my life." Then you smile, hopeful, and make your biggest misstep. "Besides, Aylin will be there to protect me, should the need arise--"
"Of course she will," you catch the mutter under his breath and your mouth slams shut.
You take a deep, steadying breath, and reach across the desk to lay a gentle, reassuring hand on your father's, meeting and holding his heavy gaze. "Reithwin is my home. No matter where the road takes me, no matter how far, I'll always come back. And to you as well, papa."
Reithwin, ancestral seat of your family, safe and idyllic, surely does not need you as much as the wide world; the vast, colourful, challenging variety of the realms. There is so much you can do, and offer. What good are gifts if you are not going to use them? Hoarding them, hiding away, sheltered - no, you refuse to be a waste.
"I need you here, Isobel."
There is an edge of desperation to your father's voice that makes your breath catch and your eyes burn. A pain that calls to mind, oddly, the sting of the black ink being slowly applied around your lids, a needle shaping the curl of the holy symbol down towards your cheekbones.
And there it is, perhaps - the real root of the struggle at hand.
"I can't be your little girl forever," you exhale, frustration mounting, somewhat undercut when you see the naked hurt on his face. "I can't be just that," you amend. "I have an entire life to live. My own life."
"With Aylin," he suggests darkly. Disapprovingly. "And when she carelessly discards you, a mayfly in her eyes--"
"Is that what this is truly about, again? Father," not quite papa at the moment, no, as you try so very hard to keep your calm in the face of your own rising irritation, "must we?"
"How can I not, Isobel? When she has clearly been feeding you this - this drivel."
"It has nothing to do with her!"
The doubt is writ plainly all over his face, and you bristle. Fine. If he is not ready to relinquish his chokehold over Isobel Thorm, cherished daughter, then he will have to reckon with Isobel, accomplished cleric of Selûne, and prospective Silver Lady initiate. You let go of his hand and step back, square your shoulders demonstratively, stand up ramrod straight.
"Our Lady champions and rewards self-sufficiency, agency, travel, and discovery - of ourselves, the world around us, and all in it who might need guidance or help in any way. It is mine to freely give, and I intend to do so, wherever I am needed. In Her name."
You turn and leave without waiting for your father to scrounge up a response.
It is the last conversation you have with him for a century.
-
It happens so very quickly, for something that would rewrite the fate of your home and all you ever loved for the next hundred years. Like a carelessly tossed pebble turning into a rockslide.
An ominous chill that barely has the time to register fully; a bark-whine from Squire, cut short; a searing pain in-- through-- your side and your chest, fading into numbness within moments, so fast that you barely choke out a desperate blood-drowned breath as blackness swarms the edges of your vision; a frantic cry of Isobel! ringing out from somewhere above or below; and then--
nothing
and nothing, and nothing, and nothing.
#baldur's gate 3#isobel thorm#dame aylin#aylin x isobel#bg3#fanfiction#my fic#oathkeeper writes things#comments welcome thoughts welcome honestly i just want to rotate these two in my head forever#i want to yell about isobel thorm constantly
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I see alot of posts around Gale and Astarion, and there should be they are great! But, I need more about Aylin. Can we talk about Aylin for a moment, she is just so pasionate about everything. Solving problems, killing evil doers, loving Isobel. I adore Aylin!
Tav: Hey uh Aylin we have a small problem.
Aylin: There is no problem that our friendship, fellowship and moonlight cannot solve!
Tav: So this stupid wizard is looking for you, but I told you were dead.
Aylin: I appreciate the thought but no ruse alive can conceal me!! We fight him at dawn!
Tav tries to protest but Aylin has already left.
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Hello y'all, welcome to my BG3 writing blog. I don't wish to share my real name, but you all can call me Cain on here! This blog will mostly be me filling out asks from y'all, but I'm also totally open to chat about anything BG3, like potential AUs, what-if scenarios, and anything else that comes to mind. Just make sure to read the rules before going on, thank you!
RULES
We are for the girls here! This is a blog specifically for WLW and NBLW! Reader will be gender-neutral by default, and can be made female on request, but will NEVER be male. I am also only writing for female characters.
If you think your ask may contain sensitive content, please try to find a way to mark it with a CW. I'll be including CWs in all my posts, but it's still important and appreciated to put that in the ask as well.
I am human, and it may take me a while to get to your ask. If you think I may have missed your request, or would like a progress update, I will gladly answer, but please try to give me some time to get to it first.
If you give me a request while the inbox is closed, it will be thrown out (so no, it will not be first in line when my inbox opens again, that's not how that works).
WHAT I DO:
Fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, smut.
Readers of any race and class (and this includes races not listed in BG3, anything from 5e is allowed, for those who know what that means).
Drabbles, scenarios, one-shots, matchups, and possibly a multi-chapter fic if I really like your idea.
I also write character x character, assuming both of those characters are still female (I love my little gaggle of bisexuals).
Werewolves (PLEASE somebody ask me about werewolf Shadowheart), ABO, G!P, and trans female characters (both of the BG3 characters and reader)
Any kind of AU you can imagine (modern AU, godhood AU, mind flayer AU, literally anything).
WHAT I DON'T DO:
Some hardcore kinks, like piss, scat, vomit, age-play, and snuff. I doubt there was a big audience for that anyway, but still. Y'all nasty sometimes. Anything else is pretty much fair game though.
HEAVY angst or major character death (of the character, not the reader). I'm sorry but I'm a big baby and can't write things that are so hopelessly sad. This rule is kinda so-so, so if you have a request, feel free to submit it, but just know that I might not do it.
MALE CHARACTERS AND MALE READER. I know I said that once already but I don't want the Astarion girlies taking over, sorry y'all.
CHARACTER LIST:
Shadowheart
Lae'zel
Karlach
Jaheira
Minthara
Alfira
Dame Aylin and Isobel (only together/poly)
If you have any other characters to request, feel free to ask, this is not a definitive list.
That's all from me. Thank you for reading!
#baldur's gate 3#bg3#bg3 x reader#shadowheart#laezel#karlach#jaheira#minthara#alfira#dame aylin#isobel thorm#shadowheart x reader#laezel x reader#karlach x reader#jaheira x reader#minthara x reader#alfira x reader#dame aylin x reader#Isobel thorn x reader#shadowheart x tav#laezel x tav#karlach x tav#jaheira x tav#minthara x tav#alfira x tav#dame aylin x tav#isobel thorm x tav
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In light of my recent Jamil brainrot, it has been pointed out to me that i stood no chance to begin with considering my boy Asra and his sister Aylin.
So to fully own up to it, i think it's time for an Asra (and Aylin) appreciation post.
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Borislav Slavov appreciation post.
Aylin - What absolutely killed me was the solid music backing an otherwise powerfully silent cutscene. Goosebumps. Cinematic. Bittersweet. Uplifting. Excellent.
Raphael - His final act caught me completely off-guard. It was so Extra. It was artful and well arranged. And absurd. Broadway vibes. I giggled. I yelled. I couldn't think straight. Because they play that shit during battle and I just wanted to take it all in. New favorite song. What the actual hell.
#bg3#bg3 spoilers#bg3 soundtrack#borislav slavov#this guy's name tho#it's so good#bg3 raphael#bg3 aylin#i laughed i cried#composer appreciation
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I should have been numbering the Dame Aylin appreciation posts, because I keep having more, but maybe this is the last one before the endgame stuff?
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23.5 degrees ep 6 reactions
i haven't been doing reaction posts so far because i've usually been watching them right before i go to bed but i managed to watch today's ep a little earlier than usual, so! a collection of randomy spoilery below
THEY DID THE THING WE WANTED THEM TO DO THANK YOU P'FON
seriously even apart from the lying to sun part, the pain it was causing ongsa to lie to her was not sustainable, i'm so glad they went in this direction
this is also the direction my fic was going to be going lol so maybe i will just be paralleling canon an episode early! i'm not mad about it tbh
the place where they used sarah salola's "ดาวหมุน (orbiting star)" was perfect, i started tearing up
TEACHER BAMBAM IS BACK but will we ever get her interacting with nida again?? sigh. we may just have to do the thing where we sustain a ship out of two scenes of them together lol
i love that literally all of ton's friends find him exasperating. his misreading of mawin's incredibly cute heart-eyes at tin, and mawin's "shit, why am i telling you this????" was amazing
not totally sure how i feel about the possibility of charoenton? ton is just. so goofy. but we shall see if they're going that direction & if they can convince me! they're convincing me on every other pairing so far
AYLIN & LUNA AS CONSPIRATORS TOGETHER i love it. their powers combined are formidable
luna telling aylin that she likes what aylin likes AND AYLIN'S REACTION SLDKJFSJFLKSDJF I WAS A MESS WATCHING THAT
aylin calling out "มนุษย์" ("human") instead of ongsa's name when they were all looking for her = incredible
best older sibling of all time alpha???? i was glad we got the parents again this episode (do they spend half their time in phuket or something? is that why ongsa was still living there before this year while alpha was already in school at s-tar?) and they were very sweet, but it's so clear that alpha is the one who really knows that her sister and cousin need
sun honestly got on board with ongsa being earth SO quickly, like i appreciate the reduction of angst but also, even putting the possibility of attraction aside, it would have taken me longer to reconcile that the two "different" people i knew were actually the same
i am however VERY into a dynamic where one person knows the other person is pining and they have to figure out together how to deal with it so i am excited for that!!!
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A wrap-up for this blog for a hiatus
Just realised I posted 15 sets of drawings during the past 20 days. This is the craziest thing I ever did and such a relief of all my obsession with the game and Shadowheart since August. First time in my life creating fan content and picking up drawing again in 10 years was absolutely fun. (and of course learning to use these sns apps is also interesting, I know I sound like an ape first seeing human technology but I’m really ancient in this sense.)
I’m no artist and drawing isn’t even a hobby, just that I happen to have an iPad with Sketchbook installed.(and I only got to know how to rerank layers with it 2 pics ago so sorry for the quality for my first few drawings.) I just want to draw all the scenes I depicted in my head and very personal ideas towards the story as I tried writing and had to toss everything in trash can because I struggled making up comprehensive sentences.
I was quite anxious and felt so panicked that if my personal taste is weird and my drawings are bad (as you can tell, I don’t know how to do color) but I’m glad and surprised to see ppl like those. The numbers I’ve seen in my notification tab is far more large than the number of ppl I met in real life. (and it is very relieving to press on the blue dots.)
I really appreciate all your likes and comments and even followings-totally unprepared for this. I read every comments you made and those warms my heart and I jumped around the room when I see you got the references and hints I buried. (although I’m not sure what is the correct courtesy to reply your reposts and comments.)
I can’t recall if I ever obsessed with another character to the same extent like Shadowheart-the only one I actually started to do fan art by myself.
(As I mentioned I’m bad at writing so the next part may be very unorganised because my thoughts are flying in my mind.)
I played as her for my first playthrough. I had a quite traumatised experience for this-knew her background and past story, saved aylin but killed parents as I thought it is what THEY want, but I don’t know what HER wants; romance laezel as the dynamic was so intriguing and so good, saved her prince and let her fly away as I though she belongs to the sky and it was best for her-of course the one who becomes a squid is then Shadowheart-and I just straightaway stabbed myself at the dock. Everyone got their good ending except shad herself, and it was so grieving-all she wanted were actually all gone in that playthrough-family, lover and herself; past, present and no future. I just felt I did my girl so dirty.
Then with the customised character playthrough I actually get to know her more completely-with amazing voice acting, the interactions and all the hidden dialogues around the world-like the childhood memories dialogue which are a condition for letting her save her parents-I feel that is the preferable way as all the needed is done and she made her own decision. (But is the origin playthrough now added these narratives? I was thinking Allister Marley was Astarion’s real name.)And then the evil Durge route for her Shar path to see an alternative timeline, though I prefer the selunite route as the cycle has to end, we are better than this but that gives so many story telling ideas.
I tried to type something like character study but I can’t make it expressive enough even for myself to understand. I just hope then all I wanted to see and say is conveyed in the drawings. God knows I tried.
And thus I have exhausted all my ideas (and my annual leaves) for it. Now I have to remind myself to really focus on my real life work. Until next time my friends on Internet, perhaps I’ll pop up again when DLC or definitive edition drops.
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shadowheart for the ask game?
First impression
hmmmm she seems a little sus
Impression now
she is really interesting! I only managed to do her quest on my second full playthrough and it wasn't until then that i think i really appreciated her
Favorite moment
SPOILERS FOR THE END OF ACT 2
i like when she decides (with tav's help) to not kill aylin and instead go against shar
Idea for a story
her life post game would be interesting! (again i will never write this bc i am too intimidated to write for bg3)
Unpopular opinion
idk if this is unpopular but. i very rarely actually use her in my party.....
Favorite relationship
besties with tav. besties with karlach. mutual respect acquaintanceship with lae'zel
Favorite headcanon
it takes her hours to do her hair
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Together
Day 8 of the BG3 Fic February Challenge
Sometimes you just have to write poetic BS instead of romantic BS because you love all the companions equally and you don't have enough Tavs yet to share the love with all of them.
Wyll Ravengard is BG3's biggest hype man and you cannot convince me otherwise. No companion has so much faith in you as he does, though honestly Halsin, Karlach, and Lae'zel are close seconds. But Wyll? We all need a hype man best friend like Wyll to encourage us when we're feeling at our worst or against odds that feel impossible.
So anyway, have a Wyll appreciate post in the form of a half-decent fic
Check out my masterlist of BG3 fics here!
---
8. "It will be okay as long as we're together."
---
Invi was convinced that Wyll Ravengard was incapable of doubt, especially in his friends. Nearly every word out of his mouth, when the days were tough and the battles long, were words of encouragement and affirmation. He saw the best in all of them. There was no convincing him that they could achieve anything short of a perfect victory in every circumstance, so long as they stayed together.
She noticed it first when Gale revealed his condition to them. As they pondered and worried where they might find enough magical artifacts to sustain him, Wyll had shrugged.
As long as we work together, it should be easy. It will be all right, Gale. Seven heads are better than one.
When Mizora had visited and transformed him, gifting him devil horns and a devil’s eye, Invi wanted to repay his kindness back to him. She had mentally rehearsed the words she would say to him, wanting to get them right, even though encouragement didn’t come first nature to her. But when she spoke to him, letting him vent his frustrations against Mizora and the injustice of his pact, he ended with a sigh and shook his head.
It will be okay. Truly. So long as we stay together. It’s good to know I have friends at my side when she comes back.
When Lae’zel fell to her knees at camp, her faith in Vlaakith well and truly broken, anger and despair raging in her eyes and in her words, it was Wyll that had roused her back to action.
Come on, Lae’zel. You’re better than this. Remember, we’re stronger together. We’ll find the answers you seek and all will come to rights.
Invi couldn’t fathom how he did it. How he kept up such relentless optimism even in the face of dire circumstances. When the shadow-cursed lands threatened to swallow them whole, and her dark urges threatened to consume her body and mind and tempt her toward worse and worse atrocities, against innocents, against Isobel, against the man she loved, Wyll’s hand on her shoulder provided comfort and focus.
Trust us to take care of you, Invi. When your dark desires threaten to overwhelm you, tell us. It will all be okay in the end, if we stick together and help one another.
He’d said much the same when Shadowheart emerged, broken and hollow, from the Shadowfell, her entire life upended by her decision to spare the Nightsong and defy her goddess. As she was emerging from the dark fog, Aylin’s words of truth giving her clarity and purpose, Wyll had smiled at her and offered her a little toast with his glass.
See? Your truth is finally dawning, Shadowheart. It will be okay, so long as you’re with us. We’ll help you find the light.
Even Astarion, who normally brushed off Wyll’s words as empty fairy tale promises and pointless platitudes, paused to consider his words one night. He’d spent several minutes pacing, trying to plan his battle against Cazador but failing at every turn because he didn’t know what awaited inside the mansion. When he’d paced past Wyll, who sat lounging by the fireplace in the room, Wyll had finally had enough, standing to block his path.
Astarion, stop. It will be okay. What can Cazador do against the likes of us? Trust me, we can put an end to his evil together.
So confident. So sure. Invi and Astarion had exchanged dubious glances, but Wyll never wavered. To him, defeat was unthinkable. Not that he was afraid of defeat—he just didn’t consider it as a possible outcome at all. Iniv wished she had his confidence. She wished she had his conviction.
The day Mizora offered up his father’s life in exchange for breaking the pact and Wyll agreed, Invi finally found the chance to give him comfort. She wrapped her arms around him the next morning, hugging him close, and spoke with all the conviction she could muster.
It will be okay, Wyll. As long as you’re with us, one day, I promise, you will be okay.
He had returned her hug easily and thanked her. When he pulled away, she saw the lingering sadness in his expression, felt his touch linger on her shoulder a moment too long before he collected himself. She remembered a moment, weeks ago, in a shadowed glade, when she had caught him dancing. He’d turned, surprised, and then offered her his hand with a smile and a bow.
Trust me. I can teach you. It will be okay. We can get through the steps together.
In another life, she thought to herself, one where she was normal, natural-born, not the spawn of a literal evil god and not plagued with desires to murder and mutilate…in another life, she might have taken his hand. She might have let him show her the steps to the dance, let him twirl her around, let him bring her close for a kiss.
But this was not that life. So all she could do was shake her head and turn away before she could see his disappointment.
She knew she had made the right decision, though, when they found themselves kneeling on the docks in Baldur’s Gate, hands reaching out for Karlach as the flames erupted from her body. Invi was frozen, unsure what to do, her mind screaming for her to tell Karlach to run to Avernus but her tongue dead in her mouth. It was Wyll, always Wyll, who gave voice to her silent plea.
Come with me, Karlach. I’ll make sure Zariel will never touch you. Come with me to Avernus. Come with me and live!
Karlach had stared up at him through the flames enveloping her body, her hand clutched over her heart, wavering on the edge of doubt and trust. She had seconds to decide, but Wyll’s gaze on her was steadfast and full of faith. In her, in him, in their ability to defy the odds, even in the depths of the Hells themselves. What choice did she have but to relent under the force of his irrepressible optimism?
Karlach, I swear. It will be okay as long as we’re together.
Those were the last words that Invi heard from him before they disappeared into the portal to the hells. Though Invi had struggled to believe him a hundred times before, she had no doubts now. As the portal closed behind them, preventing her and anyone else from following after, she took comfort in what she knew now to be fact, not speculation or hope.
They would be okay as long as they were together.
#bg3#bg3 fic#bg3ficfeb#my fic#oc#wyll ravengard#invi#i promise i know what dialogue tags and quote marks are#i'll get back to writing not poetic BS soon#where I actually use quote marks like a proper writer#but until then you can pry my love of italics from my cold dead hands
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