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prettyboykatsuki · 5 months

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— ❈ YOU'RE SO PRETTY, BABY.

▸ prompt ; companions and their responses to being called pretty boy / pretty girl.

▸ a/n ; bit of a generic post im sorry forreal. while i was originally just going to write this for astarion i had ideas for. all the other companions.

most of the characters have a reader w a specific class or background, all varied! also spoilers for gale, shadowheart, karlach, and lae'zel.

reader / tav is always gender neutral!

▸ wc ; about 4.5k, about 700+ words per companion.

ft. astarion, wyll, gale, shadowheart, karlach, lae'zel

no minthara or halsin bc i could not bring myself to write it. but maybe later if enough people ask lol.

❈ ASTARION ;

Astarion tries his very best to find your affection for him trite, even when he knows it doesn't feel that way. It's an instinct for him, one you'll simply have to make peace with you if you're really planning on tailing him to the end of the world.

Truth be told though, he likes your generally affectionate nature. He hasn't reached a point he can admit this so openly, but the comfortable and easy way you reach for him is nice. He likes how your hands seem to stretch for him, the way you cling to his spine when you sleep in his tent and the likes.

And while he is not stranger to hypocrisy, he thinks it'd be amiss to try and bar you from calling him any pet names when he calls you so many. He's got quite a few handy. Darling is a favorite, followed by dear, and sometimes my love when he can muster up the courage to mean it instead of saying it like he's trying to perform.

You like to call Astarion by his name though, most often. He isn't exactly sure why you're so fond of it, and truthfully he's done little to consider his own name. You say it wonderfully though, tasteful and loving and soft.

Sometimes you gasp it in offense or horror or shock, other times in pleasure. Sometimes you whimper it in your sleep, groping around until your hands fist in the material of his shirt and you drag him back to you.

In any case, he's used to hearing his name. So hearing you utter the words pretty boy to him, he can't help but be a little shocked.

You're a little tipsy. A hard, arduous journey of fighting githyanki soldiers has taken a terrible toll on your normal inhibitions. You're quite flushed while you're drunk, and all the same sitting in his lap like you've not a care in the world.

Astarion doesn't mind holding you. In fact, he's thinking of all the terribly teasing things he can say to you come morning. So far, you've done nothing but mumble. It's a sudden movement, your hands clasped around his face.

"Feeling forward are we darling?" He says, like second nature. It's so reactionary it's banal, though he does have some enthusiasm since the flirtation is directed at you. Instead of your usual giggling, you stare at him with your lips parted.

"I suppose I am pretty boy," You reply, a completely foreign confidence in your voice that stops him dead in his tracks. Underneath the thick layer of flirtation is sincerity so unmistakable it almost proves to be too much "Could I ask you to keep me company?"

Astarion is, eternally grateful about the fact you don't get much more than that out of you. He spends the entire night thinking about it. You're certainly not the first to call him pretty, and that particular phrasing has been thrown to him more than once.

Yet it rings a little differently. The way you said it so tenderly, your hands stroking the nape of his neck and cupping his face. Well, it's not nothing. He can't decide if he hates it or not until the next morning comes.

Your eyes flutter open as light pours through the open part of his tent. You reach over to him with a deep sigh, engaging in some quiet morning affection when you repeat yesterdays sentiment.

"Good morning, my very pretty boy," You say - and this time Astarion is sure whatever he is feeling he has not ever felt previously "Sorry for the antics last night."

"So your memory hasn't failed you. Good to know." Astarion says back. You laugh lightly. "Your charming little pet name worried me quite a bit."

"Nothing to worry about my love." You say, warm and nuzzling into his neck likely to cool yourself from over-heating "I really do find you very pretty."

He can't help the feeling that floods his sense. He likes it even though he feels a little clingy, but perhaps there's no need to admit that.

"Oh, really, darling? How sweet you are. Tell me again, then. Just for kicks this time."

❈ WYLL ;

it's a matter of getting used to it for Wyll.

For the first month of your adventuring together, pretty boy, had been a somewhat condescending substitute for his name. Among other ones, like daddy's boy and prince. None of the pet names held any real affection.

You liked getting under his skin, after all.

You didn't get on at first, not for a long while. You're a rogue, a ratty street urchin turned mercenary who'd spent your youth climbing through the soil and mud of the Lower City's underbelly. Your words verbatim, not his. At first, your resentment for him caught him off guard, especially because Wyll prefers to keep the peace and get along with everyone. But, he had a difficult time understanding you, even with his people skills

Eventually it clicked that your resentment was less towards him, and more towards what he represents. You're a Baldurian, but one abandoned by the city and it's people. What else could the Ravengards represent if not the future you never had a chance to look towards.

It was easier after that. And Wyll had promised to himself to observe you closer. In that, he found to like you a great deal.

He's fond of pet names in general, but more fond of you lately. At the beginning of your adventure, it was a little difficult to get accustomed to your... roughness. You lack delicacy, but you're not exactly silver tongued.

Yet, you're not as cruel as you make yourself out to be. Contrarily, while you've traveled together, Wyll bore witness to only gentleness. Nothing more. The words you spoke about only doing things for coin had been clearly disproved by your countless acts of charity. Especially gentle and kind to children, and especially unforgiving to the rich and unhelpful.

Once he got used to it, there was something kind of...sweet about it. To see you say one thing and do another had it's own novelty that Wyll grew fond of you.

It was the night of tiefling party that roused his feelings. That night, he'd watched you play with the tiefling children all night, teaching them tricks of the trade.

And you'd started falling for him, too, judging by the way your usual snark was nowhere to be found.

Especially vivid is the change in your tone when you call him the same way you did before.

"We'll take a short rest for you, pretty boy." Your voice murmurs, looking carefully over his wounds while place down your own weapons "Get your spells back. Organize our things in the mean time."

He gives you look, examining your own worry before his smile stretches into one of fondness. It doesn't bother him at all, not anymore. No, lately - it sounds rather fond, and each time Wyll hears it, it does something for ego.

"No need for the concern, though I am appreciative," He says, not bothering to mask the smug quality in his voice at your change. He delights in it a little, admittedly . "I'll be alright soon enough."

You don't seem to notice, too busy wiping your blade of fresh blood, metal shiny as moonlight. "And there's no need for your heroism, Blade of Frontiers. Have some discernment about time and place."

You look up at him with your brows furrowed, and Wyll can barely help himself. "Are you worried I'll lose what's left in my appearances? I'm just telling you there's no need to trouble yourself over it."

It takes you a while to register to his words, but when it finally does - your eyes blow wide. The look of embarrassment on your face is well worth it.

"I thought you hated when I called you that." You say coolly.

"It's not so bad," He says back tenderly, staring at you "At least not anymore."

You pout a little. Wyll fights some unspoken urge to kiss you. A little longer.

"I prefer when you're acting oblivious,"

"Sorry to disappoint."

He lets his head lay on the wall behind him - reaching a hand for yours instead, trying to rest up as promised. He sees you smiling from the corner of his eye and affirms it to himself. You squeeze, soft, but otherwise say nothing about it.

Yes, lately, nothing you say could get under his skin. Even when you so obviously try.

❈ GALE ;

Gale is always the poet, never the muse.

He thought highly of his relationship with Mystra, and in many ways still does. He loved her. This much is true. He can't say for any certainty if she had loved him just as much, or at all. He wasn't the first mortal, and would hardly be the last.

But he loved her, enough to write about her and wax poetic about all that he'd lost.

When Gale examines any of his past relationship, he realizes this is some kind of pattern. Gale is good at being loving, but he does not know for certain if any of them loved him back. Or if he was loved in the way he loves - if it was anything near close. Gale had thought, at one point, it was just matter of destiny. Gale is after all, a man who bleeds with all he has.

He can't blame anyone for loving him less than when he is categorically too much. He thought that way for a long time, destined himself to never find love again or beg for Mystra's forgiveness for some new found purpose.

When you came into his life, he hadn't been sure what would come of your relationship. Certainly a brain parasite would make camp a difficult place for romance, but the two of you managed against all odds. Among all the things that Gale finds astonishing about your relationship - it's your affection for him that catches him the most off-guard.

It's a little sad, he can admit. But it's true. When you speak to Gale, your voice is always soft. It's never demanding. Before, always, there had been some kind of expectation. Gale had to be a certain way, to pour himself into someone else for the sake of it being returned.He loved. Surely he loved.

But now, lately, you love him back. Overwhelmingly. The easiness of your love makes him feel a little... spoiled. Which is embarrassing, at the stage of life he's in. He finds the whole thing tips him over the edge. The heat creeping up his neck every time he remembers. Your hand brushing against the back of his neck, cupping his face so gently.

Gale, perhaps unsurprisingly, is fond of your various pet names. All of them sound good. Make him feel important and desired. You like to call him a bookworm, sometimes you call him baby (which he really likes much more than he is ever willing to admit), and other times you settle on saying my love.

Pretty boy is new. Pretty boy is different, and makes heat crawl up the back of Gale's neck like a smitten school boy.

It has a special effect on Gale.

In between classes, spoken with your hands cupping his face as he leans on his desk. The sunlight is pouring through the large paneled windows, casting a warmth on your expression. Gale is sat on his desk, making you eye-level.

"I'm glad you've come to see me," Gale says to you first, breaking a period of comfortable silence. You're a busy person, given all the heroics. Gale finds it troublesome, despite the fact you've moved with him to Waterdeep. Your reputation precedes you "It's been ages,"

"Of course I'd come to see you, pretty boy," You hum, thumb brushing under his cheek - carefully drawing a line "You're very healing to look at."

The effect is rather immediate. As soon as the words leave your lips, spoken to him so lovingly - he unlocks a part of himself he always seems to forget about. Forgets himself in a fundamental way, the flurry of heat and euphoric sensation of adoration washing over him like water.

He gives you a look, and you laugh - pressing your thumb to his lower lip as you lean in for a kiss. "Stop pouting, will you?"

"I'm doing nothing of the sort," He insists, kissing you despite him. You laugh into, warm and bubbly. For a minute, he remembers all he might've lost had he done what Mystra told him.

He's glad he's alive. To feel you.

"You very much are," You reply back, once you've managed to pull away from each other "Don't be so surprised. You've always been very pretty to me."

He blushes again, deeper, and closes his eyes.

❈ SHADOWHEART ;

You don't often communicate your feelings to Shadowheart through words.

You're something of a stoic. Of the few people in Shadowheart's past who remain by her side, many of them communicate about how surprised they are about your partnership. Shadowheart is known to be a little snarky, witty. She used to be very prickly, at the start of your adventure together - so everyone questions how you were able to win her heart.

Truthfully, Shadowheart didn't know what to make of your personality at first. There's a silence to you. Maybe she should expect this of paladin so loyal. A Paladin of Torm, the unswerving enemy of injustice and corruption. You've always been a devout person, putting action and justice over everything. She hated it at first, a natural response for a Sharran, she figures.

Once she'd left it all behind, she could no longer use it as an excuse.

Truth be told, Shadowheart had always liked that aspect of you. Your devotion spoke to something greater than your oath or even your god. You had simply believed in the world, and inadvertently in her. You saved her from herself, her parents from her fate, and then some.

Your devotion to her as a lover isn't something so different. She often thinks you would swear yourself to her if you could. For Shadowheart, your affection is akin to worship. Every morning, the animals are tended and the flower bed is damp. You wake her mother up without a start, remind her of where she is without making her feel ashamed. You're good to her father, talk to him of worldly politics at the dinner table.

She has no complaints to make about you. Your love for her is tangible, something she can reach out and touch with her fingers.

She's unused to hearing your affections, though. Unused to hearing the words.

You lay together in the darkness. You're alone tonight, the entire cabin empty. Her mother and father have gone together on an outing together, after you accompanied them into the city. You've finally returned, put the horses up in the stable, and have to come to her side.

Shadowheart likes to lay in your arms. She lets herself curl into your weight, inhales the scent of your skin - earthy and rich as you let your arm fold around her waist. She lays ontop of you today, her whole body on yours like a blanket.

She looks up at you, her her tied loosely. She can practically feel how glowy her own expression is as she examines you - sees her reflection in your irises.

You let your hand lay over her back, reaching up underneath her nightwear to lay touch her skin. She gives you a look - her smile small, sincere. Your own expression is tired from travel, but fond. You insisted on taking her parents instead of letting them go alone.

She loves you more than she cares to admit.

"You're staring." She comments blithely "See something you like?"

Normally you'd flush a little at this, silent as you kiss her forehead or cheek. This time though, you use your fingers to brush the stray hairs from her face and nod.

"Yes, pretty girl," You hum, nonchalantly. Sagely. "I really do,"

She's so caught off guard, she can't help but gape. She lifts herself slightly to stare at you in shock.

"I've never heard you talk like that. Not once while we've been together. I mean.. you've called me beautiful but," Shadowheart stumbles, a fluttery feeling in her stomach she'd rather ignore "But it's never like that,"

"I think it more often that I say it,"

"And you always think to call me that?"

"Like I said, often," You look over he carefully, before your lips pull into an easy smile "You're pretty to the point I want to tell you all the time,"

Shadowheart is scarcely embarrassed by anything. She's a practiced woman at this point in her life. It's almost juvenile the way the words effect her. It's you saying it that makes all the difference. The way you've said it that makes her squirm. She lets out a little puff of air, silent as you laugh.

"Pretty girl," You repeat, warm and gentle and laced with exhaustion "You're the most beautiful girl I've ever met."

Shadowheart tucks her face into your neck, voice as soft a murmur as the sound of her own heart rings in her ears.

"Don't make a habit of talking like that," She huffs "I already know, but I suppose it doesn't hurt to hear."

You smile brightly. "I'm glad,"

❈ KARLACH ;

Karlach adores you, utterly and completely.

She's a little caught off-guard by it. Just when she'd convinced herself she couldn't love you more, you surprise her all over again. She'd probably harbored some sort of affection for you from the start of your adventure together, when you'd gone to bat for her and make sure Wyll didn't take her head as a trophy.

Since then, though - on your journey together, she'd taken careful notice of you. And gods, she likes you. You're very different she must admit. Where Karlach is strong and fiery, you're cool and calculated. She figured that's just what magic users are like, but Gale is pretty keen on correcting this assumption. You're a sorcerer, specifically, means the whole magic thing is in your composition and not your study.

Which explained why your head isn't the books like their local wizard. She does find you to be rather charming. You're good at talking your way in and out of almost everything, and you can outwit even the cleverest people on camp. You'd think it'd make you... annoying. Or cruel. And sure, you're a little calculating - but mostly, you're sweet.

Karlach's really never met anyone like you before. Her companionship is a little limited because before the Blood Wars, she was a rag-tag kid in the street of the city. But you grew up in a noble house, learned to charm and finesse your way through everything. You know how to read situations before they've even happened.

And you always explain them to her afterwards.

You make Karlach nervous, strangely. Which is wild! When it comes to socializing, she can get along with almost anyone. You though, you always see right through her. You know when she's using her own personality as a shield, and you always know just when to intervene. Or when to say nothing, and just let her sit with you.

The day she blew up at you, after defeating Gortash - you'd handled it better than she could've hoped. You were comforting, and kind, and let her feel it out without making her feel bad. With you, she felt hopeful despite knowing that the end was probably going to come for her eventually.

With you, she thinks she could endure even the end of the world.

You're in the city now, no longer sleeping in the woods. When everyone else has gone to bed, Karlach finds you in the study, a room attached to the main living quarters.

She knocks before entering. Your voice is soft as you tell her to come in. Dressed in your comfy night clothes, your hair damp from washing up. You're bent over the desk with a furrow in your brow that Karlach finds sweet.

"Hey, baby," She asks, her heart thumping soft "Hope I'm not disturbin' your research."

"Of course not," You reply back, encouraging her towards you "I'm actually due a break."

Wordlessly, you sit up from your chair, pointing for Karlach to sit. She follows through, a little confused as to what you're doing before you plop yourself back into her lap. She throws her head back in laughter.

"Don't know what I was expecting there," She giggles, arm curling around your waist "All cozy?"

"Mm," You melt yourself into her embrace, turning to look at her. Your eyes are soft, free hand cupping her face "I'm cozy. What's keeping you up, pretty girl?"

The words catch her off guard completely, her engine flaring from the heat.

"Shit, what's with that?" She glances down at you, smiling like the cheeky fucker you are "I can't get any redder, you know? It's making my engine burn."

"You like it, no?" Your voice is smooth, smug in a way that gets her hot "My pretty girl,"

Karlach stares at you as you say it. Traces the curve of your lips, the slight arch of your brow. Asses the weight and warmth of you as you lay your legs over her lap and feels her body start to react. She didn't think it was possible to feel so complete by someone, even among the impending doom at the end of the world.

With you it fades away to nothing. Permission to want freely, she had no idea she had wanted that so bad. She had no idea she could want more when you'd already given her so much.

It's nice to be greedy. A little greed is fine, after everything.

"If you keep talking to me like that, we're going to do a lot more than just sitting, you know?" She tells you seriously.

You smile and laugh but don't deny her "Only if you say please,"

❈ LAE'ZEL ;

The Githyanki do not fall in love.

It's a fact of the culture, a mark of their honor. Love is for the soft, tender fleshed species of the material planes. It does not suit warriors, not the ruthless githyanki who spend their entire lives training the sword and learning magic. Love had always been a flimsy concept to Lae'zel. To the point she'd never thought about it or cared too. For the gith, there is only pleasure and carnal desire. The foolishness of longing can only be harbored in the lesser existence of the outer-world. The world outside of her creche.

For a long time, this was true for Lae'zel. She had never intended her time in the material plane to weaken her in the ways in which it did. Or that the experience of a ghaik parasite trapped behind her eyes would will her into cooperation with lesser beings. In many ways egregious, unfathomable. In trying to rid herself of one parasite, she'd found herself another one - more intolerable and more consuming than the first.

You. What a foreign and remarkable bond. From the beginning she had told you the truth, that the gith do not love and she would not be able to love you. Though she could admit passion, admit admiration for your courage, admit possession - she could not admit love. She knew nothing of it.

Over the course of your journey, you'd managed to prove her wrong. Slowly stripped bare of the identity she'd made her life around, you stripped Lae'zel down to her soul. Her most honored solider, and most formidable ally. When the time came, you'd told her to do what she must, to liberate her people. That you'd be there when she returned.

That you'd wait for her.

Months apart with few visits in between meant that each time Lae'zel sees you must make every minute count. Enjoying your body and indulging in carnal pleasures is only so much of that. What Lae'zel looks forward too most, she must admit, is the gentleness of your touch whenever she comes back to Fae'run.

Soft warm whispers among the indulgent plush of bed sheets and candles. A room that smells like lavender and oak, prayer books and scripture littered on the desk. A cleric of Bahamut, and a soul strong as steel.

But this, her head resting in your lap as you stroke her hair so carefully, is what she's missed most of all. No doubt she's going soft.

"Chk. You are smitten by the text in front of you as if you have forgotten of my return,"

You look down at Lae-zel with a laugh, carefully placing said book down on the bedside table. The voice you speak with her is different from her own. Tender fleshed even in your speech, you let her curl herself into you.

A vulnerable position, open to whatever may come.

"I'm sorry, pretty girl," You hum. The words practically startle her "I don't mean to neglect you. It was an interesting passage."

"Pretty...It is true among the githyanki, I am among the finest of their ranks," She replies, turning herself towards you - getting comfortable "Yet still, something stirs."

"Are you embarrassed?" You reply, delighted as her frown deepens. Before she has a chance to argue with you, you lean down to press your lips against hers briefly "How sweet of you."

"I do not get embarrassed," She insists, scowling as you begin to giggle at her "It was merely unexpected."

"You're beautiful to me, Lae'zel." You hum, stroking her cheek gently as she continues to lay herself across. Your eyes are tender and lidded. That look of obsession she recalled from the months prior returned in full, and no longer hidden. Unlike your other mortal companions, or the pale elf - there is nothing hidden in your words. No agenda "More beautiful than anyone else. At least to me. Getting to look at you so closely is a gift."

She softens, her hand gripping yours resting on her chest

"When it is over," She says seriously, a solemness to her voice "I will return to you. This I swear. Without you, the liberation of my people would be no less then a dream,"

You return her smile in kind.

"My pretty, wonderful girl," You hum. She loves you. She thinks she understands it now "I know you'll return to me, nailo. You always keep your promises."

"Yes," She says, an unfamiliar emotion overwhelming her "I will not forsake all we have promised."

The affection in your voice shakes Lae'zel to her core. Initial abrasion fades only into warmth. It's not so bad to hear, even if it is tender fleshed.

▸ a/n ; the word reader uses for lae'zel is elvish for swift winds!! reader is meant to be sort of a book worm so you do not need to picture them as a elf and more of a linguist.

this is the most substantial thing i've written in the last few weeks so commentary is very appreciated. i'd be willing to do a minthara and halsin addition to this eventually if anyone is interested!!

anyways, baldurs gate companions i love u. reblogs so appreciated !

#bg3 x reader #baldurs gate 3 x reader #astarion x reader #wyll x reader #gale x reader #shadowheart x reader #karlach x reader #lae'zel x reader #writing tag #waah. i love them all

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tsaritza-mika · 2 months

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More Tadfools Shit that We all Need

BECAUSE WE NEED MORE CHAOTIC FOUND FAMILY SHENANIGANS DAMMIT!!!

I need Astarion learning he can spider crawl on the ceiling, and then completely fucking with everyone. Everyone’s helms keep coming off their heads when they’re walking out the door? Astarion is failing at trying so hard not to laugh and give himself away. Lae’zel, Shadowheart, Gale, and Halsin’s hair keeps coming undone? Astarion is being a little shit again and stealing the ribbons/clips that hold them in place! Wyll and Karlach discovering their horns now have ridiculous looking ornaments/bells hanging off them? Astarion stole a bag from a shop and thought the two could use some more decoration!

I need Gale to decide that its time to remind everyone in camp where the real power is, and cast a protection spell on himself that makes him immune to intense heat, while making dinner as spicy as fuck! Then he can sit around calmly while everyone else is either crying about how they’re going to die, or rushing to dunk their entire head in the Chionthar

I need Halsin deciding he’s had enough of Minthara’s ‘Drow are so superior’ talk and secretly instructing everyone to act as if all is normal, while leaving an increasing amount of carved ducks around her tent area. Every time she enters/leaves her tent there are more and more freaking ducks!! And then she wakes one morning to find herself covered in them and her bedroll floating in the middle of the river!!

I need Shadowheart and Karlach to go around while everyone’s asleep and use her makeup to draw dicks and other offensive things on everyone else's faces, but then to make sure they aren’t caught, they do it to each other but it's super obvious they were the culprits cause they’re the only ones with compliments on their faces

I need Jaheira to absolutely misuse vine whip as an improvised leash so that keeping these stupid children she’s been saddled with from running off to die ridiculous deaths will be easier

@the-skeleton-speaks We need Astarion being designated the camp tailor, but he’s low-key salty about it because what the fuck do these people just not take care of their shit!? So he deliberately uses thread that is either the same color or just a tad too light/dark and embroiders insults into each of them

We need Karlach helping Wyll with his horns/hair, because he’s not used to working around them, but it takes her a while to get it the way he likes, and by the time she’s done, his neck and her hands are so damn sore

@ultimmmmmp We need Minthara and Lae’zel being absolute trolls and slipping Selunite trinkets/symbols all around Shadowheart’s tent, and then making comments about how bad she’s been at trying to convince them she was such an edgy cleric and followed Shar

@basiliskfree We need Karlach and Wyll getting too damn excited about all the hero stories to the point that they start role playing the fights and quoting terribly cheesy heroic banter

@ryttu3k (this is as close as I’ll get cause I’m not on the bloodweave ship XDDD) We need Astarion messing w/ Gale while he’s asleep by moving all of his bookmarks to the wrong pages, relocating his books around to other parts of the camp, and even being so brazen as to dogear a page or two in some of his known favs @soul-of-rei We need Astarion, Lae’zel, and Shadowheart to be the mean girl crew, commenting on everything and everyone and just being general catty menaces! The three of them turn Vicious Mockery into an art to be feared! Practicing your fighting technique? Pathetic Istick! A Gith wouldn’t need to do it more than twice, yet you’ve been doing it all afternoon and you’re still sloppy as a hatchling! How about your makeup? Shar save us from your pathetic attempt at a smokey-eye... Is yellow your color? Darling if yellow was your color, then it wouldn’t leave you looking like a rotten lemon! @scourgiez Gale and Jaheira just coming to the end of their patience with the aforementioned mean girl crew and casting silence on the lot of them, because holy fuck do they have to comment on every fucking thing within eyesight!? Also please tag me if you draw these, I want to see all the things XDD

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maggacammara · 7 months

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Wyllvember, Day Two

II. Wyll and Your Tav

“I appreciate the offer, but—”

Before Wyll can finish, Rauva is sitting on one of the large, flat rocks by the shore, moonlight shimmering on her dusky skin as she stares out at the horizon. Wyll sighs inwardly and sits down next to her. The silence, soundtracked by waves breaking and the chatter of tieflings and adventurers getting drunk off ithbank, is welcome. Still, he doesn’t mind when Rauva finally speaks. “I would have spent the evening with Shadowheart.”

No elaboration. Wyll nods, musing. “Everything okay with you two?” he says, dropping into a more casual register than he typically uses with his companions. Maybe he’ll be able to pry some personal information out of the notoriously guarded drow. She nods, the gesture almost imperceptible. “I take it you don’t expect me to stand in for her regular duties.” This may be his first attempt at flirting with Rauva. He’s gotten to almost everyone else by now.

Rauva’s head turns sharply, her red eyes boring into him. At first, he thinks he’s upset her, but then he realizes—she’s flustered. Her skin, like his, is too dark to betray her flush of embarrassment, but he sees it in the tension she holds, the slightly widened eyes. “It’s not…” she trails off. For the first time since meeting her, Wyll actually sees Rauva’s thoughts telegraphed across her expression, no tadpole needed—it’s not like that. Well, it is. I don’t know. It’s complicated.

“I get it.” Wyll laughs. “Relationships aren’t easy for a hero.” Rauva opens her mouth to speak, but he cuts her off. “And don’t say you aren’t one! You may not see yourself that way, but the tieflings certainly do. Your actions matter far more than how you perceive yourself.”

Rauva nods again, that curt, dutiful nod. But he can tell she’s relaxed a bit now. “Are you holding out for anyone here?” she says. Her low voice seems huskier in the evening.

Wyll really thinks before he answers. The truth is no, he’s not quite that committed to anyone in their camp. However, this doesn’t mean he hasn’t considered a few of them, and he knows this is what Rauva is getting at. “I am offended that Astarion hasn’t asked to bite me yet, if that’s what you mean,” he says. Rauva laughs, which he considers a success—as well as an opportunity to be more vulnerable. “I’m holding out for something special. It may end up being someone here… I’m not sure yet.”

“I see,” Rauva says. She thinks for a moment, picks up a smooth stone and tosses it at the water. Rather than skipping across the surface, it sinks straight to the bottom without a splash. “I never thought I would grow close with someone like I have with Shadowheart. Not with my life how it was. Is.” The noise from the camp grows to a roar for a moment—laughter, cheers, Alfira’s smooth voice singing. When it quiets again, Rauva says, “She makes me feel I could change. Choose to change, even. Not because of a tadpole or a cult—but just because I want to.”

“You want to change,” Wyll muses. He almost adds something to the effect of, yet you’re already perfect, but he knows it’ll come off flirty, and this feels inappropriate after Rauva’s admission about Shadowheart. “I know the feeling. I wasn’t always the Blade of Frontiers. And I wasn’t always… well, you know.”

This coaxes a smile out of Rauva. “I do think they suit you,” she says, nodding toward the horns. Wyll still hasn’t quite grown used to their weight. “This coming from someone generally distrusted based on their appearance.”

“Ah,” Wyll says. “All my complaining—I never considered. I apologize.”

Rauva laughs a little, shakes her head. “Don’t be sorry. I lived in Menzoberranzan for the first two-hundred years of my life. I remember the culture shock of suddenly being perceived as different. You’re going through the same thing.” She reaches out, a little awkwardly, and places a strong, calloused hand on Wyll’s shoulder. “Those whose opinion truly matters won’t care how you look. In fact, they will embrace it.”

Wyll looks down at his hands and smiles. It’s a fact he knows to be true, but it rings truer coming from someone like Rauva. He feels briefly embarrassed for having tried to flirt with her before. She’s well out of his league. “I’m lucky to have you as a friend,” he says, deeply earnest. Rauva just squeezes his shoulder and drops her hand, looking back out at the moonlit water.

Someone comes crashing through the brush behind them. “Come on, Rauva!” Karlach booms. Wyll doesn’t have to turn to recognize her voice. “I dared Gale to try cooking one of the artifacts before eating it, and the mad lad is actually going to do it!” Her crackling heat fills the small clearing as she steps closer. “You should come too, Wyll. I’ve got a pool going on whether he’ll love it or hurl.”

“Those are the only options?” Rauva muses, rising gracefully. She glances down at Wyll. He does feel better after talking to her, but he’s still not quite ready to go out and carouse. He waves nonchalantly at the two of them.

“Put me down for… ah, neither,” he says. “I don’t imagine he’ll enjoy it, though the man must have a strong stomach by now, eating all the orts Rauva drags back to camp for dinner.” Karlach bursts into laughter as they head back to the party.

“I’ll let him know what faith you have in him!” she calls.

Wyll smiles to himself and gazes back out at the water. He may not be in the mood for a celebration, but he won’t allow himself to sink into the pits of despair. Not yet.

#wyllweek #posting it all on here instead of linking to docs this time!#let me know which is better if you have an opinion #I know this will get a little less love because of the nature of original characters #but I really enjoy it so I hope at least a couple other people do too!#wyll #rauva #bg3 #fic #mine #my fic

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ryttu3k · 6 months

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Astarion, Wyll, and Shart for the chara meme? :3c

[send me a character]

Under the cut! Spoilers for all three of their arcs.

Astarion

First impression: …tragically, it was "oh hey, he's the dude that fucked a bear." That was where I first learned of BG3. It was… memorable.

Impression now: My baby. What a shitbag. Needs a hug and possibly a slap upside the head. Meet me in the pit, Cazador. Blorbo of the year.

Favourite moment: Discovering the dungeons in Cazador's palace. Dude's going through the first four stages of grief all at the same time and Neil Newbon sells it. …That, or, "W~ell, apPARently there's a limit. Somewhere between a ~nice summer's day~ and the fuLL CONCENTRATED POWER OF THE SUN! *deep breath* [Astarion disapproves]"

Idea for a story: I have a whole list of the fuckers, but one I've been tentatively noodling at is an AU where a god does, in fact, answer him. Namely, Lathander. By the time he meets the rest of the Tadfools, he's been a Cleric of Lathander for about a century, and, yes, is also a vampire spawn. It's okay he and Lathander have an understanding.

Unpopular opinion: He was a Sun Elf. I know they're rare I know he's almost certainly a Moon Elf based on his hair colour and living in Baldur's Gate but I will die on this hill that he was a freckled, gold-eyed Sun Elf for the tragedy, okay. Ties in with the above story idea, too. He just loves the sun 😭

Favourite relationship: I have five OTPs for this jerk. Five.

Favourite headcanon: He's going to discover a talent for creativity and crafting. Embroidery and making perfumes and fragrances, yes, but also he's going to get quite into sketching, origami, all sorts of stuff. Post-game, he'd totally have a craft room.

Wyll

First impression: Designated hero, probably would be the main character without a Tav/Durge.

Impression now: Designated hero, probably would be the main character without a Tav/Durge, complete with all the complexity and fucked-up-ness (positive) that implies <3 He's still very much A Hero but he's definitely more complicated than just A Hero.

Favourite moment: Meeting Karlach face to face and realising Mizora has deceived him. He knows he's going to have to defy her and he's goddamn terrified but he barely even hesitates to do the right thing and keep Karlach safe.

Idea for a story: Ooh man I have one bobbing around about Wyll seeing Astarion's scars and realising he recognises them. Inspiration for wanting to save people, versus the helplessness of being all of sixteen years old at the time.

Unpopular opinion: Honestly I still go back and forward between reconciling with his father. On the one hand, I like seeing them move on and heal. On the other hand, he was seventeen years old Ulder you absolute fuck.

Favourite relationship: With Karlach. Probably due to design since their stories are interwoven, but I love how they just go from like… him being dedicated to killing her, to being so ride or die for each other that Wyll is willing to go to the Hells for her - and that Karlach is willing to go back somewhere she's said she'd rather die to return to, solely because Wyll promises he'll be there with her 🥺

Favourite headcanon: While chatting idly to Volo in the Elfsong, he learns Volo has that prosthetic eye handy. After breaking the pact with Mizora, Wyll approaches Volo and asks if… maybe he could have it, and replaces the stone Sending Stone eye with the Ersatz Eye instead. It's a hell of a relief.

Shadowheart

First impression: The Mean Girl tbh

Impression now: She is baby. Let her grow night orchids and feed pocket mice.

Favourite moment: Reunion with her parents ;_; I goddamn cried. Let her make her own choice and she let them go; when I do a Shadowheart Origin run she's going to choose them to survive and will get so many hugs.

Idea for a story: Got a silly little slice of life thing about getting frustrated at her hair getting tangled so easily in the wilderness, and Halsin teaching her some herblore for hair care. Alternatively, swimming lessons!

Unpopular opinion: Not sure if it's unpopular, but I find her the most unlikeable character in act 1 and a lot of act 2. I know a lot of it is her upbringing, and there are moments of sweetness (like with the night orchid), but otherwise she just kind of annoys me.

Favourite relationship: With Lae'zel. They instantly and immediately clash. They're also extremely similar, in that they both grew up in cult-like surrounds led by dangerous figures, and have to learn to find their own paths after breaking away from those surrounds in absolutely heart-wrenching circumstances. I think once they realise that, they'll start to develop a ridiculously close bond.

Favourite headcanon: She tended to avoid the full moon just because of its association with Selune. The first time she intentionally sits and communes with the moon at night, it'll trigger her first transformation going Full Werewolf and she will be quite surprised.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 spoilers #astarion #wyll ravengard #shadowheart #the pale elf #the blade of frontiers #daughter of darkness #memes

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marshmallow-bg3 · 5 months

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Durge ask game questions: general + post-nautiloid edition.

19. Has your Dark Urge become particularly close to anyone romantically and/or platonically in their journey? If so, who, and what is the relationship like? If no, why not?

Astarion - close romantically. They hit it off from the start even before all the bloody reveals. They are on the same wavelength, both being chaotic bloodthirsty rogues with dubious morality, multiple layers of trauma and personal horror and gentle hearts somewhere underneath it all. "Two souls walking the same path" unironically. It does help that Astarion's seduction techniques work exceptionally well on desperate Bhaalspawn with latent praise kink.

Karlach - close platonically. She reminds Roux of someone he can't quite remember - his foster sister - loud, brave little tomboy who protected the puny nonverbal half-elf from bullies. He doesn't remember her face, but he does remember the feeling, and Karlach totally radiates the same aura of heartiness and safety. She's the best friend to Astarion. With Roux it's complicated - there's is this secret grudge after killing Gortash under a lot of pressure from Karlach that he hides well. Roux loves Karlach and wants what's best for her, but there's that.

Gale - close platonically. "The hand that feeds is the hand that's loved". Roux doesn't really get half of the nerdy stuff Gale dumps on him, but he's genuinely drawn to Gale's kindness and care. He thinks Gale is precious - yes, also megalomaniac and narcissistic, but it's hardly big vices in Roux's book - and must be protected at all costs. Ok, maybe it's not that platonic. Post-game Roux and Astarion can't deny their crush on professor Dekarios and trying to seduce the hot teacher is a fun constant game for the three of them.

Halsin - close physically. They exist on completely different levels mentally, they have little in common and not much to talk about. However between constant headache, sleep deprivation and a series of existential crises Roux often approaches Halsin for help and comfort and finds himself in close physical contact with the druid - soothing touches, bear hugs, falling asleep next to him. Mutual attraction stems from there, but it doesn't grow into anything more profound and remains just a pleasant memory of shared warmth and affection. (Astarion's relationship with Halsin remains pleasantly neutral throughout it.)

Shadowheart - it's complicated. They both start with massive memory loss. At first Roux is disproportionately repulsed by the Sharran's religious zeal. But as he remembers more and more of himself he realizes just how much Shadowheart reminds him of his own time in the cult he never truly belonged in. It happens around the same time Shadowheart learns the truth about herself. Their parallel self-discoveries reveal how similar and relatable their stories are. In a way Roux sees a reflection of Orin in her - a little sister he could have had. The point is - they start to build their genuine relationship closer to the end of their journey against Absolute. By the time they meet in the epilogue it's still work in progress with a lot of potential for found family.

Lae'zel - neutral. The fun part is that Roux is a submissive type in general and when someone talks to him with the level of unadulterated authority Lae'zel demonstrated from the moment they met all he can do is obey. It takes some time to realize she's just a young girl with a severe case of janitor's syndrome. Roux doesn't hold it against her, but finds it hard to bond with her anyway. Lae'zel is a good, trusted, valued ally, but not quite a friend.

Wyll - neutral. Roux thinks Wyll is too idealistic and half-expects his principles to crumble under duress. But when they don't, he develops genuine respect and admiration for Wyll's integrity. May have written a couple of comical songs about their adventures with the Blade of Frontieres as the protagonist, but nothing offensive. Wyll finds them funny. In the end Wyll is Karlach's boyfriend to them more than any of his other roles and titles.

Jaheira - ooof, they clash! Jaheira likes to troll and patronize. Roux likes to troll and doesn't like to be patronized. Jaheira doesn't like to be trolled. Every time they interact one or the other disapproves. She claims to know all about Bhaalspawn and Roux is having none of it. Sarevok didn't stay dead, Orin and Roux himself existed and she had no idea. What kind of expert that makes her? Besides, Jaheira doesn’t try to get to know or understand Roux outside of his bloodline - it's like talking to a wall.

Minsc - neutral. Roux has no idea how to react to Minsc most of the time so he just avoids the man. Too unpredictable.

#baldur's gate 3 #the dark urge #resist!durge #roux the murderbard #precious little bhaal-babe #marshmallows in faerûn #ask game

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tuxedo-rabbit · 9 months

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Estryd Playthrough part 1

I want to talk a little bit about my Estryd playthrough so far, spoilers for Dark Urge will be discussed

Playing an Amnesiac in D&D is always fun. It gives you time to figure out who this character is exactly, because they don't know either.

At first, I was really leaning in to the dark urges with Estryd, you get prompts every once in a while to think violent things, a couple prompts to do violent things, but really, in the very beginning of the game there isn't a whole lot about it that seems too terribly irredeemable. And the big thing is you can also just choose to ignore the prompts, it's not so much an urge as an option.

So, Estryd was a little off-put by these darker thoughts, but altogether she was more bothered by the fact that she couldn't remember who she was and that she suddenly had magic powers and a tadpole in her head. She only mentioned these violent urges to Lae'zel, and only after Lae'zel described the symptoms of ceremorphosis and Estryd realized that the two may not be related after all.

Things Estryd learned about herself as she collected her party and explored the tiefling camp:

She has violent urges

She's a Warlock, but she doesn't know who her patron is and if they're related to her dark urges

She's got a good amount of knowledge when it comes to the arcane and history

She really likes books

She knows things about plants and alchemy

She's good at convincing people to do what she wants, whether that be through lying, intimidating, or simply persuading. She's best at intimidation.

It was all fun and games until it wasn't.

Estryd met Alfira the bard, and initially, refused to help her. The song was bad and Alfira's sweet peronality got on Estryd's nerves. The only reason she went back and helped is because she thought it would be funny to piss off some nearby squirrels who hated the music (Estryd can be a bit of an ass at times, I mean she is a Dark Urge character after all).

This is when it started to feel like the dark urges may be a separate entity from Estryd.

See, when you refuse the narrator implies you are disgusted by Alfira's too-sweet personality. But when you choose to help, the phrasing changes ever so slightly, to imply that something within you, different from the part of you that chose to help Alfira, is disgusted at your own too-sweet behavior. I can't remember the exact phrasing, but it's the first time the urge is described as not coming from your own psyche but something else within you instead.

After helping Alfira, when the party takes a long rest, Alfira joins your camp. I don't know what happens when you are not playing a dark urge character, probably fun things. What happened with Estryd is that she woke up covered in blood with Alfira's corpse at her feet.

I cannot describe how completely unprepared I was for this. There had been no consequences thus far, and now suddenly you feel dangerous. Estryd was horrified. She didn't even try to hide the body (the game gives you that option though), she just waited for everyone to wake up so they could decide whether or not to kill her.

The companion reactions were interesting.

Gale and Lae'zel were squarely in the "You're dangerous and completely at fault" camp,

Shadowheart was the same except with a slight "but you clearly feel guilty and that says something"

Wyll was 100% in denial that it was Estryd. The man truly thought someone else broke into camp and framed her. Like, so sweet my dude, but no. it was her.

And my favorite, Astarion, Mr. "I'm not even bothered but you really should have hidden the body better"

Also you can ask Withers to resurrect her and he will bluntly tell you "No :)"

Love these guys so much. (No Karlach because she was not recruited yet.)

This was a game changer. How do you move forward after discovering you can literally wake up to find out you've killed a potential companion? Estryd was no longer neutral about the situation. She vowed to never let this happen again. She would find a way to stop them whatever caused these dark urges, or die before she let it overtake her.

She also kept Alfira's lute as a reminder, and I had her multiclass as bard for rp flavor. It's maybe a bit...macabre....for Estryd to keep the lute of the girl she murdered and to start studying how to be a bard to honor her memory, but idk, i like it for this character.

I think I'm going to end this here because it's gotten very long, but I want to record more of Estryd's journey later. I'm currently in the Underdark with her and unlocked a specific memory after the game let me do something that felt very D&D-esque. Loving the Dark Urge so far, what a way to tell the player this origin is serious.

#estryd #bg3 spoilers #this is basically just info dumping about my oc and what she's done so far #i will probably write more later #because after this it was just Estryd's no good very bad day for awhile #and it was really fun to playthrough #felt very D&D with the dice rolls fitting the narrative perfectly #i want to talk about it!

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searaeberry · 3 months

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After the Revival

Decade long lurker, first-time posting anything ever. Guys I'm losing my mind about this.

Many months ago now someone had posted about there not being any "Modern girl in Faerun" fanfics available. I dusted off my writer's gloves and spat out something that I find to be half decent. I don't have anything that I consider finished, and I don't know if I ever will. However I have put together what I consider to be a complete chapter in what amounts to a retelling of the events in game, and how they could be different if someone were dragged from our world into BG3.

I have fragments of other scenes written out, and if people like what I have maybe I'll post more in the future. For now, please enjoy my self-indulgent filthy fanfic.

After the Revival -

After being overwhelmed by a pack of gnolls, our hero wakes from death and faces the reality of how far from home they really are.

When I next opened my eyes I found Shadowheart sitting beside me, reading one of the many books I looted along our travels. I slowly sat upright in my bedroll.

"Welcome back." She said gently, setting the book aside. "How're you feeling."

I thought a moment, checking in with my body before nodding. "Like I died."

"Makes sense. You seem to be full of all sorts of surprises."

"Surprises are a lot of work... I suppose you'd like to ask me a bunch of questions?"

"You've been respectful of my history. Everyone agrees. We won't push you. Whatever you wish to tell us is up to you."

"Thank you." I sat quietly for a moment. "Honestly, I wasn't really sure if I was in another world, or just crazy. Where I come from, you don't just show up in a different plane of existence. You used to be locked up in a padded room for even suggesting such things."

"Makes sense why you wouldn't bring it up right away then."

I nodded. "I've just been trying to piece enough things together to pass as normal. I've been lucky, by surviving an Illithid kidnapping I've been given leniency." I gave a weak smile.

"A great many things would be forgiven given the circumstances." She returned my smile. "For what it's worth, you feel like the most normal person in this camp."

I laughed at that. "Thanks. I don't know what the social etiquette is, but I hope we can still be friends, despite my... otherworldliness."

"I would like that. Where you come from doesn't change the things you've done since your arrival. You still rescued me from that pod, you still brought all of us together, and you've still been helping everyone on your way. For better or for worse."

"It does seem to drive Astarion insane whenever I agree to help someone."

"I admit, even I would have passed up the tieflings in the grove. But watching you garner their goodwill, and see the smiles on the children's faces... It feels right."

"I'm glad someone said that out loud. I was worried that you hated everything I did for some reason.."

"We just questioned the choices you were making." She smiled, realizing how that sounds out loud. "What I mean to say is, you did a lot of unusual things. If you're not from this world, then a lot of things suddenly make sense."

"Like making friends with a Gith?" I teased.

"Like making friends with a Gith... I still don't like it. But she's proven useful."

"If it makes you feel better, I think she's said the exact same thing about you."

She shook her head. "I would rather not think about it today" She stood and dusted herself off. "Wyll and Gale both made food for the camp tonight. I thought they were going to fight over it, but they worked it out. I'll bring you some broth. Unless you'd like to join everyone by the fire?"

"That sounds lovely, but I really would like to just stay here for a while. Last time I saw everyone I tried to kill the guy that can bring people back from the dead."

"Broth it is. Coming right up." She smiled warmly and left my tent.

I felt incredibly grateful for her and pulled my blankets close. I felt exposed and vulnerable. Emotional too, and I really didn't want to deal with that right now. I felt weak and I felt hopeless. I pulled the blankets in even tighter. I was starting to spiral and I didn't know how to stop myself. My breathing started to hasten. I tried to slow it down, but it just made my chest hurt. Just as I was about to panic, I heard a small whine just outside my tent.

"Scratch?" I turned and caught his warm brown eyes. He gazed back at me with earnest. "I'm sorry boy, my potion has worn off. I can't understand you right now."

He still seemed to understand me however. Striding over, he gave my arm a heavy nudge and snorted. I smiled and started to pet him. Tears fell from my cheeks and eventually I pulled him into my lap and held him close. Running my fingers through his thick fur helped pull me back to reality. "You're a good boy, Scratch." He licked the tears off my face and I pulled away with a laugh.

"Gods, you just let him into your tent?"

My head snapped up to see Shadowheart's disgusted look. "Scratch needed a hug." I gave him a little squeeze and smiled at Shadowheart, aware of how pitiful my lie was.

"Well, I brought you a bowl. There's more than just broth if you're properly hungry. I'll just leave it here if you don't mind."

"Thank you, Shadowheart." I smiled at her, and even Scratch gave a little woof of approval.

She paused, but the corners of her mouth turned up just the slightest bit. "I'll leave you to it."

I ate with Scratch stretched out across my lap. I was overwhelmed and my chest was tight. But so long as I could still fight, I would. Even if that meant being revived by a forgotten god in order to fight some more. I would see this through if for no other reason than because no one else deserved this fate.

I reached for the bowl and gave it a careful sip. It was delicious. I would have to give my thanks to the boys. I rubbed Scratch’s side while I sipped at the broth, feeling the warmth soothe my chest. I could hear the camp speak in hushed tones between bursts of what seemed like them pretending nothing was wrong. Once I finished the broth, I just sat quietly for a moment.

So I would see this through… That’s all well and good, but now I’ve made the choice, I had no idea how to proceed. I gave Scratch a pat and he moved off my lap. Carefully I peeked out of my tent, unsure if I was ready to face anyone yet. The moment I saw someone come into view I flinched. I pulled away feeling a pang of guilt, and looked around my tent. It was cozy enough, but I felt trapped. I rummaged through my pack and found a couple vials of ‘speak with animals’ I brewed myself. I wanted to see how my own skills were compared to the premade stuff I found. I threw a vial of it back and swallowed the grassy liquid. I winked at Scratch as I slipped on a pair of shoes and shimmied my way out from under the rear of my tent.

I wasn’t trying to sneak per se, but I wanted more time by myself. Time that seemed to be increasingly difficult to come by in recent days. So with the greatest amount of stealth my tired body could muster, I meandered down by the river. Many seasonal flowers were in bloom and with the blazing sun overhead, I thought for a moment I was in a painting. I smiled and started to carefully pick a variety of long-stemmed flowers. While I wasn’t in a real painting, I could admit the beauty of the world around me. I pressed a flower to my lips, the velvet petals tickling my skin as I inhaled its scent. It was unlike any flower I knew back at home, but its familiarity was welcome. I brushed my fingers over a fern-like leaf that belonged to a flower that reminded me of Queen Anne’s lace. To my surprise, my hand came back smelling like carrot, like it would from the flower back home. Maybe there was more home around me than I originally thought?

Resuming my flower picking, I let the nature around me fill my heart with something important to me: hope. I’ve heard people call hope many things. Dangerous, was the first that came to mind. I longed to ask them, ‘dangerous to whom?’ I slowly made my way closer to the water, sorting through the tangle of feelings in my head and heart. Things were both easier and more difficult now that I’ve died. I hadn’t expected to make it very far in this adventure, so revival means I’ll face greater challenges ahead. But it'll be easier because I already experienced the worst-case scenario. There is no worse consequence than death. That’s it. I’ve done the bad ending. Now to find the good one.

I sat on a rock facing the setting sun, eyes unfocused, ears tuned in to the babbling water and gentle rustling of leaves. I was still tired from my resurrection. I breathed the warm air deeply and wove the wild-flowers together into a small flower crown. It was cathartic to meditate on things while keeping the hands busy. An art that had taken years to learn for myself.

I was pulled from my thoughts when I heard footsteps behind me. I paused my weaving and smiled at the figure that approached me.

"I thought I might find you here." Gale said with some amount of relief in his voice. "Might I join you for a moment?"

I cleared the flowers from the spot beside me and gave it a gentle pat. "By all means."

"Ah. Thank you." He took the space beside me and sat quietly for a moment. He looked like he was still gathering his thoughts, so I gave him a moment. "How are you doing?"

"I am... exhausted." I gave a weak chuckle. "But in time, I'll be better. Just, maybe not today. I need to process a lot of things."

"I can only imagine. Dying is difficult for anyone. Let alone coming back from death when you aren't anticipating it." He inhaled slowly, and looked more hesitant than I had ever previously seen him. "I had been doing some thinking of my own. About my condition-"

"Oh!" I reached into my pocket and held out a necklace I had found before the gnoll attack. "I meant to give this to you earlier for that."

He gripped the hem of his robe and exhaled. "You quite literally died. Experienced your first resurrection. You would be forgiven for forgetting such things. Honestly, the fact that you died and you are still thinking about… not yourself." He eyed the necklace, reluctant to take it.

I placed it on his lap after he didn't grab it. "You need it. It's that simple."

"What I was trying to say... I think I'm a greater liability than I am an asset. You experienced, a frankly gruesome and horrible death, and I can't help but feel responsible for that. If I hadn't faltered in that moment, if you hadn't needed to step in-"

"Gale… first off, look at me."

It took a moment, but he relented. Guilt and strife clear in his brown eyes.

"Speaking as the person who died the very fiery and horrible death, I don't have any regrets. As for you being a liability, that moment could possibly be the worst example you could provide. It was your spell that pushed enough of them away to let everyone get to safety. If it weren't for you, more of us would have fallen. Easily."

He looked away again, unable to hold my gaze anymore. "It is very kind of you to say that." He took the necklace from his lap and held it firmly in his fist.

"I don't say it to be kind. It's the truth. If you're thinking that you need to repent or something, or you think we'd be better off without you- well you'd better just stop. Everyone in this camp would be poorer with your absence. So, suck it up buttercup."

"Buttercup?" He looked incredulous.

I laughed. He smiled. "I don't have a locally equivalent phrase, I'm sorry."

"Well, thank you." He softened his grip on the necklace. "You truly aren't from here then?"

"No. As it happens, I am not." It was my turn to look away. I watched the water flow past rocks and reeds.

"Tell me about it. Where you're from, I mean."

"For starters, death is significantly more permanant than around here."

"I gathered that much from your rather recent reaction."

I looked away sheepishly. "Not my proudest moment. I already had a complicated relationship with death before ressurections were on the table..." I wasn't sure if I was ready to expand on the more personal details of my life just yet. "I could probably tell you about the part that would shock you the most." I offered.

"Try me." He looked so confident. Smug? Probably.

"Well for starters, there is no magic where I'm from."

I watched him pause for a second while he processed what I had just said. "At all?"

"None. Not even a little. Withers and all his grand destiny confirmed it."

"That can't be right. You're sure?"

I pursed my lips and nodded my head solemnly.

"Well, that explains… some things. No offense, mind you but- no magic at all? How does your society function? How do your gods do anything?"

I did this to myself. "You think that's wild? I'm not even certain my world has gods. And if we do, nothing like what you know."

His eyebrows furrowed deeply as he mulled over the information he was given. "I think this will have to be a conversation had over a course of several days. No magic? No gods? Yet you somehow seem perfectly normal-"

"Hey! Don't be rude." I laughed despite myself.

"Apologies." He gave me a sheepish grin.

"You can make it up to me by sticking around, yeah?"

"It's a deal." He looked down at the necklace I gave him, properly looking at it for the first time. "You hid your lack of magical knowledge well. A necklace of keen sight. Might be of more use to an archer than me?"

"It isn't better than what everyone's already using. Go on." I nudged his shoulder gently with mine.

"I really don't think I can thank you enough. You have the patience of a saint as far as I can tell; putting up with my condition, being thrown into an entirely new world, as well as being infected by mind flayers like the rest of us.” He chuckled, really seeing what I had been doing for the first time. "Just back from the dead and here you are, making flower crowns, ostensibly having a regular evening by the water."

"Careful, you inflate my ego anymore, my head will float away."

"Ah, well we can't have that now can we?" He paused for a moment. "You know, if you ever have need of a teacher, I am quite versed in all things arcane. I was never fond of the idea of teaching entry-level magics in the past, but I’ve never had such an unpredictable student before. Though I would probably have to rethink what defines 'entry-level' in your case. How much so called 'common knowledge' would be lost on you that we take for granted here?"

"It sounds like you've already made up your mind." I smiled to myself. Glad that he seems more focused on solving the problems right in front of himself than he is on leaving the camp out of guilt. I caught myself admiring him just a little bit before shaking my head. "Take your necklace already. I don't think Withers would appreciate it if you endangered yourself after just reviving me."

"Of course." He closed his fist around the necklace and a radiant light beamed from between his fingers. He winced and grasped his chest with his other hand. There was a flare of purple as the magic within him devoured the softer light of the necklace. The strain on his face didn’t lessen like it had the first time I watched him absorb a magical item. Even when the necklace crumbled to nothing his expression did not relax. "Something's not right," he muttered almost to himself before looking up at me. "Usually absorbing the weave of an enchanted item acts like a torrential downpour over a forest fire, soothing the discomfort. This is more like a gentle rain." He winced again. "This does not soothe."

I reached a hand to try and comfort him, but stopped short, unsure of how I could even help. "Was the necklace not potent enough?"

"I'm not sure, but I might need another item sooner rather than later."

I nodded my head. "Just let me know. I might have another one ready for the chopping block."

He chuckled despite himself, discomfort still clear on his face, that glimmer of guilt back in his eyes. With hesitance I reached my hand back out to him, and tentatively rested it on his shoulder. He closed his eyes to breathe and slowly, with each breath, his expression relaxed and softened. After a little while, he opened his eyes again.

"Better?" I asked, gently removing my hand from his shoulder.

"For now." He gave a curt nod.

I smiled wryly at him. "At least the vampire just needs a bit of blood every now and then, huh?"

He just shook his head and looked back at me. He looked like he was going to say something.

"Gale, I swear, if you thank me again I will vomit."

"I said nothing."

"You were thinking. Very loudly. It was deafening."

He held his hands up in a mock surrender. "Guilty as charged. Shall we at least return to camp before we lose what little daylight is left?"

I opened my mouth to tease him again, but paused in thought. He waited so patiently for me. “Actually. If you don’t mind, I’d like to sit out here for just a moment longer.”

“Whatever you need. Shall I leave you to your solitude or..?”

I felt his unspoken question and I found myself relieved by it. A feeling that admittedly caught me off guard. “I think I’d quite like a little company honestly. If you aren’t busy?”

“Ah, well, I’ve got a parasite nibbling away at my brain, a bottomless magic pit in my chest… But I might be able to squeeze you into my busy schedule.” Our back and forth made me laugh. It made me feel normal.

“Speaking of busy schedules,” he began to add. “I saw a glimpse of your work, connecting Jergal and Withers. Not even in this world a tenday and you have more notes than we have coin. It’s impressive to say the least.”

“Thanks. It started as homework to blend in, not give myself away as not being local. But then something I read kept nagging at my thoughts. I can’t even remember what it was anymore, yet I kept trying to put something together. I don’t think I really learned anything more than when I first woke up here, but I haven’t been able to shake the feeling that there's a bigger picture we're missing.”

“You think this Absolute cult is related.”

It wasn’t a question. “I can’t prove anything. But I learned a long time ago that if something seems convenient there’s usually a reason. In a world where gods are real? You’d have an easier time convincing me that I really did die and this entire world is in my head.”

“Admittedly, seeing everything we’ve come across written down, I find it difficult to argue coincidence. The only thing I would ask is, what is the correlation between the Absolute and Jergal?”

“That’s a puzzle piece I’m firmly missing.” I shook my head in temporary defeat. “Withers has motivation to keep me alive and fighting. The only people we’re actively fighting right now is a goblin hoard who have forsaken their god for the Absolute. That’s as far as I could get before this mess with the gnolls and the druids.”

“I had been so preoccupied with our infection, my affliction… Somehow I’ve missed everything you’ve been putting together all this time.”

“There was no reason to believe they were related. Besides, no conspiracy I might come up with is worth anything if we die from our immediate problems.”

“Let me help you put the rest of these pieces together. Please. You’ve shown yourself to be more than competent, but I would appreciate the honor of lending my own expertise.”

I gave the wizard a gentle smile. “Alright. I look forward to your help. It’ll be nice not having to keep track of everything in my head going forward.”

“Excellent. When would you like to start?”

“Perhaps we should head back to camp first? I feel ready now.”

“That’s probably for the best. You gave Shadowheart a fright when she couldn’t find you in your tent.”

“How did you know where to look for me then?”

“You always face water when you're lost in thought.”

It was so matter-of-fact that I was caught off-guard. Did I always look at the water while thinking? With a blink, I realized that I was in fact looking at the water now. Thinking. I shook my head to clear it while Gale got to his feet.

I gathered up my flowers and finished crowns. I was so preoccupied that I almost didn't see the hand extended out to me. I blinked and looked up at Gale who was already standing. "Thanks." I carefully accepted his hand and he helped me up.

"The absolute least I could do."

I could feel the looming and overwhelming feeling of awkwardness growing inside of me. I took a relaxing breath. "I was thinking of stopping by the grove tomorrow. I thought some of the girls might like these. Maybe make them feel normal again. I also have a few tools I think will make Dammon feel like a smith again."

"Yes, he was quite floored to be working with wooden tools. The right woods themselves can be as hard as steel, but I'm not too certain that that is the kind of wood the druids have access to in this area."

"I'm also keen on invading some of Kahga's privacy this time around." I could feel his confused gaze boring a hole into my skull as I continued. "She's acting with a little more purpose than just ‘protecting’ the grove. It smells.”

"Well, druids are known to want to be particularly close to nature..."

"No, different smell. She smells physically different than the others. Nettie, and the woman we spoke to outside. They smell like leaves and rain. Kahga smells more like... Cut mushrooms and prairie swamps."

"You don't trust her because she smells different than the other druids?"

“It's probably nothing, but I'd rather be wrong than proven right. She was willing to kill a scared little girl. She would have too."

"Fair point. I suppose it wouldn't hurt to at least look into the matter. Even I must admit that she is rather... Intense for a druid."

"I'm thinking Astarion will be the best to snoop around while we talk to the other druids in the cove. Shadowheart will have to stay outside of course... But that admittedly works in our favor. Wyll is absolutely against showing his face around anyone from the grove since Mizora's visit and Lae'zel continues to pick fights with anyone who moves. Just letting her speak to that one tiefling I thought he'd die of fright."

"And you called my thinking deafening."

The warming glow of the campfire welcomed us once we made it back to camp. "It isn't my fault everyone has gone along with the random shit I've suggested. Honestly, I'm surprised any of you considered the things I would say. Now moreso."

"You have the most unbiased opinions here out of all of us. If anything we might be more inclined to heed your thoughts now than when we thought you were from a different region." Gale mused.

"It explains why she's so damn weird compared to the rest of our eclectic group." Astorion chimed in from behind us. "What's this I heard about me snooping around? You know I'm not just some common thief in the night."

I spun to meet his gaze. I didn't even pretend that I heard his approach. "No, you're just some common night stalker." I sing-songed.

His hand moved to his chest dramatically. "Words wound you know."

I rolled my eyes. "As if you're upset about stealing from the druids."

"Oh, I'm not. I just can't believe you'd call me, of all people, common."

"Mm, he's got a point there." Gale acquiesced. "Calling Astarion common is offensive to all the other perfectly normal vampire spawn."

"Now you're just being rude."

"Happy to help." Gale grinned at the elf.

"Alright, boys. Play nice. Astarion, we already know you're fabulous."

"Thank you. It's just nice to be recognized." He snubbed Gale, who just rolled his eyes in response.

I sighed, already feeling my exhaustion returning. "Look... I'm going to eat something and go to bed. We can talk details in the morning."

"A fine idea. You should be focused on your recovery after your resurrection after all."

I smiled softly at Gale. Was that an eye roll from Astarion? I looked at the two of them warily. "Don't make me get Karlach..."

They both took half a step back. I nodded to myself and started to walk away from them, calling Scratch to give him pets. I couldn't help but overhear their bickering.

"Suck up." Said Astarion.

"Charlatan." Gale retorted.

I just smooshed Scratch's face and rubbed his ears while speaking quietly to him. "I think these guys are going to be why I go crazy. You're the only truly reliable one around here." I cooed while he leaned into my hands with a happy groan. I smiled warmly, wondering if the 'speak with animals' potion I tried brewing myself actually worked. I was too busy brooding to talk to any animals.

I paused my pets for Scratch and he gave a mighty shake. "Of course I'm the most reliable one here. I thought that was obvious."

I laughed. "Yes. Yes you are Scratch. I will never doubt you." I kissed his soft little head. "Let's get something to eat."

With a bark of enthusiasm he led the way to the pot of stew that was waiting. If the broth I had earlier was any indication of what was to come, I was more than excited. Wyll handed me a bowl and gave Scratch an affectionate pat. I sat with both Wyll and Karlach, even Lae'zel joined us. When she thought no one was watching, I watched miss grumpy Gith herself sneak Scratch a piece of beef, whispering to him how he has to be strong to protect the weaklings around them. Shadowheart wandered over, complaining about how Scratch was eating with us like he was some kind of person. Lae'zel was about to retort when Karlach spoke up first about how she'll keep him over by her side. Shadowheart huffed taking a seat beside me, accepting her own bowl. Astarion wandered by, with a goblet of what I assumed was actually blood and not wine, complaining about how noisy we were all being. Gale remarked how it wasn't like we were hiding from anything and that some liveliness was a good thing. I hadn't seen when he joined us around the fire. Wyll started to talk about a time when he was adventuring alone and did have to hide from some horrible monster. I heard a few groans. But I smiled, taking a bite of my stew. That's when I realized something for the first time since waking up on that awful ship. This could be home.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 companions #bg3 tav #bg3 shadowheart #bg3 gale #fanfic

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