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dracolichbitch · 7 months

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Candles flickered in the chandeliers overhead, blue flames adorning their wicks and casting the ball room in a ghostly glow. Shadows danced erratically along the walls, hiding as much as the lights revealed. Dozens of whimpering, simpering noble lords and ladies fluttered here and there throughout the hall, some swirling along to the music of the orchestra while others loitered closest to where the wine flowed. All of them ditsy and darling, chittering and chattering among themselves like gilded rodents having a feast in the cheese makers stores.

Vyr hated this. She hated them.

She glowered at no one in particular as she hid her painted black lips behind a glass of wine she had no interest in drinking, the liquid deep red like blood, and she couldn’t help but wonder what sort of trouble she might find herself in if she opened up some of these worthless necks like wine bottles and stained her father’s pretty white marble floors with the liquid that would gush forth like a crack in a dam. She wasn’t usually outright malicious, but she had no desire to be here and she desired to scream that out from the top of her lungs until she was finally given permission to leave.

She couldn’t, yet, of course. This party was supposed to be for her after all. A celebration for her ascension as her fathers heir after being the only of her sibling’s to survive the pandemic of devil’s pox that’d swept through the city these last few months, leaving countless dead in its wake. She wanted no part of it though. Pretty gowns and daintily sipping wine as other lords eyed and pawed at her like a kitten batted at a mouse on a string wasn’t something she ever thought she’d experience growing up. Not as the third born. She’d been allowed her freedom her entire life, and now it was being stripped away as easily as a bear gutted a deer.

She sighed, the warmth of her breath fogging the crystal of the glass she hid behind. She didn’t want this.

A gleam in the ballroom caught her eye. A diamond ring flashing in the eerie lighting of the hall.

Now that she wanted.

And she was always so good at taking what she wanted from other people.

Setting her glass down to be forgotten on a table, she made her way into the throng of people, silently and deftly wielding her magic to approach unheard and unseen. Even when someone would’ve bumped into her, instead they passed right through her, feeling nothing as they passed the shadows of her body save for the startling sensation of walking face first into a spiderweb. Even when that man turned, she knew he wouldn’t see her. She doubted any of these men who couldn’t be assed to study a single spell would be able to perceive her when she truly intended to pass unseen.

No. She was able to approach her prey with all the stealth of a serpent sliding through stalks of knee high foliage, and with deft fingertips, she slid the ring right from the woman’s finger as she spoke with her hands. A quick glance at her face told her she was none the wiser to what had gone missing, and with a faint smirk on her ghostly lips, she allowed herself to re-materialize on the other side of the room from her.

Coincidentally, she found herself right by the snack table, and she decided that, if nothing else, if she had to be here then she could at least partake in some of her father’s expenses on feeding these people, and she took a plate of cheese cubes all for herself, but not before pocketing the ring she stole. With her snack and the good she pilfered on hand, she retreated to a nearby unoccupied table to continue observing the throttling throng of people choking her family’s home.

She popped a cheese cube into her mouth and bit down with just her front teeth, cleaving it in half before chewing mindfully as she people watched. The ring was just the latest thing she’d stolen this night. As it stands, her pockets were starting to get full, and if she weren’t careful, the faint jingling of silver against gold might start to give her away on her approach. She couldn’t let that happen, now could she?

“How intently you observe your surroundings, Lady Umbranox.” A voice spoke from her side, and when her steely eyes slid over to see who addressed her, she vaguely recognized the man, though she couldn’t place his name.

She could never remember the names of all the various people who came and went from her father’s office. At least, not when their dealings didn’t involve her. Her father knew how she liked to spend her free time. He was her first tutor, after all. He’d been so proud when she picked her first lock at seven. This man, however, whatever his business entailed, it had yet to involve her, so she’d never had any need to speak to him. As she took in his unruly black hair, and his eyes just as deep and dark, the pleasant smile he wore only crooked into what he probably thought to be a charming smirk.

“And now how intently you observe me.”

She turned her body towards him to follow her eyes, and she said nothing at first in favor of popping another cube of cheese into her mouth. Chew and swallow then speak.

“Do you mind? I’m quite clearly trying to brood here.”

The man chuckled, cupping the side of his jaw with one hand and holding his elbow in the other. There was some strange emotion in his eyes as he looked at her. It reminded her of how one would look at a puppy playing tug of war in the mud. Only problem is she wasn’t a cute and playful puppy to gawk at and if he annoyed her she’d steal those pretty little rings off his fingers too.

“Oh don’t worry, milady, I won’t take up too much of your time. I just have a favor to ask. I hear that you like to offer those. A favor for a favor, no?”

She cocked a single eyebrow at him, and set her cheese plate down to a nearby table. “That’s a business dealing, and I don’t do business with people who have yet to introduce themselves.”

Another quiet chuckle.

“Oh my. My sincerest apologies. I’m afraid my manners get away from me at times. My name is Enver Gortash. I’m a military advisor to Bauldur’s Gate’s elite, your father included.” The man finally introduced himself properly, and once he had, she realized she did indeed know who he was.

“Gortash, is it? I know of you. From what I’ve heard, you’ve got your fingers in more pies than just weapons.” She noted, though she was fully aware that the implications of her words weren’t exactly a proper conversation to be had in public where anyone could listen in and hear them.

Gortash’s smile flickered for a heartbeat but did not fully fade. Instead he reached over, and stole her hand in his own and with one deft movement, brought her knuckles to his lips, bending low in a half bow as he did so. His stubble scraped the soft flesh of her fingers ever so gently as he smiled at her past her hand, his eyes dark and half-lidded.

“And seeking to taste even more, yes. And that’s where you come in.” He admitted in a purred whisper before relinquishing his grip on her hand.

He was hardly the first man to take her hand and place his lips against it tonight but something about the way he looked up at her with those devilish dark eyes as he did so made her skin crawl in a way she couldn’t decide whether it was pleasant or not, and where his skin touch hers seemed to blaze as if he’d burnt her, only to be doused in ice water once he released her. Her hand felt cold and empty and as it fell back by her side, she had to resist the urge to clench it into a fist to rid herself of the feeling.

“How so?”

The question was simple but was the answer? She had the feeling that this was neither the time nor the place to be discussing business, but as it seemed, though she was supposed to be the star of the show tonight, past the first thirty minutes of the party, no one seemed to have a particular interest in anything to do with her, much more intrigued by the wine flowing like a river and wooing less surly women on the dance floor. Perhaps then, with no one paying any particular attention to them, this was the best place for it. After all, a private meeting with her behind closed doors would draw more attention than a party where everyone was expected to speak to her at least once.

“Well, to put it simply, I’m looking for more business partners. Ones whose dealings are a bit more discrete than what I normally get up to. And from what your father has told me, you handle that side of your family’s business now, rather than him.” He explained in such vague terms that no one around them could possibly understand what he was referring to. Only she did.

She inhaled slowly through her nose before letting it out in a long, deep breath.

“Of course you do. I’m not sure what else I expected.” She noted, resting her chin on her knuckles as she observed him through her eyelashes. She knew exactly what he wanted. Of course she did. “So I take it you want an introduction to said business partners?”

“Precisely. That’s all I ask. I don’t ask that you cajole or wheedle them into working with me. If I cannot convince them to do so on my own, it is because it is I that lacks the merit.” He stated as he straightened up, the same easy, charming smile on his lips. There was a gleam in his eye, a brightness that seemed to drown in the dark, endless depths of his black eyes. As if she’d already agreed to his request.

“Hm… And what do I get in exchange for this introduction? If things go south between you and my business partners, tis I they’re going to look towards with disdain for having set up the meeting in the first place. Why should I, or they, take a gamble on you?” She cocked an eyebrow at him. Something about how delighted he seemed to be about his perception of her agreeableness irked her, and it made her want to shoot down his request out of petty spite, and while she loved acting out of spite, she had the feeling that this time she should wait him out, play her hand, and see what cards he’d try to deal her before turning him down outright. After all, if she wanted to back out of their agreement, all she had to do was slip into where he laid his head and open his throat with the edge of one of her pretty pretty blades. For most thieves they were more for show than anything. A good thief prided themselves on never needing to spill a drop of blood. But every now and then she’d spill it just for fun, and to say that she could. Not always. Just every now and then. When her people got too lazy and complacent. When someone thought they could take advantage of her youth and double cross her. And sometimes when she was particularly petty, when some drunken fool was vainglorious enough to make a pass at her in a tavern.

Rather than being put off by her words, Gortash’s smile widened and he chuckled softly, in a manner that sounded almost akin to shyness. “I don’t expect you to do it out of the kindness of your heart, I assure you. There’s a present for you in your room. Consider it a down payment for setting up the meeting, with more toys to follow if I can reach an agreement with your people.” He told her before turning away from her. “You might have trouble believing this outright, but I’m not the kind of man that neglects my partners. You’ll see that for yourself if you indulge me.”

Vyr blinked once. Twice. Mulling over his words and the possible implications of them. He wasn’t…? No, of course not. Surely he wouldn’t be. By the time she looked up and was starting to formulate a response to him, she realized he’d already disappeared, and a quick glance around showed he was nowhere nearby to be seen. She sighed quietly, debating what to do now. Would it look bad if she left now? She wasn’t sure.

Well, it can’t possibly look any worse than if the only thing I do while I’m here is stuff my face with cheese. She noted, even as she popped a small handful of cheese cubes into her mouth.

Feeling eyes on her, she looked around until she sussed out where the feeling was coming from, only to lock eyes with her father. In a silent question, her eyes flickered to the door then back to him. She could barely contain her joy when he nodded ever so vaguely in silent confirmation that she could leave. Ecstatic to finally be able to retire for the night, it took all of her willpower not to dash for the door, instead walking out calmly while she was still in eye sight of everyone. Once the doors to the ball room shut behind her, muffling the sounds of the party, and she was alone in the empty corridor connecting the ballroom to the rest of the fortress, she couldn’t contain herself much more, and she found herself dashing through the halls before she even realized she was doing it. And soon enough she was slipping out of the halls into her room.

Just like Gortash promised, on her bed laid a red ribbon wrapped box. Upon closer inspection, it looked like mahogany.

Her curiosity overriding her caution, she pulled on the bow and unraveled it before pulling the lid off the box. She was intrigued to see that inside were a pair of black leather boots. While her first thought was to wonder if he knew her shoe size and if so, how, her next was to wonder if merely boots where all they were. She plucked one out of the box and started to examine it, poking and prodding the leather in places before examining the sole, and it was there that she found her answer. Not only were the toes steel, she could also feel some sort of hard plate in the bottom of the toe and upon closer inspection, she could see a slit in the toe where the leather met the sole.

She tilted her head curiously before plopping down on her bed and pulled off the shoes she was wearing to put these on. She was fairly adept in magic, and she could feel that these had an enchantment on them and once her feet were in them, she could indeed feel the tingle of magic against the bottom of her toes.

There must be a sigil on the inside of the soles. She realized, and focused on manipulating the Weave in the boots, with a simple command to activate.

Much to her surprise and delight, at the encouragement of the magic, a blade shot forward from the slit in the toe. She couldn’t help how she grinned and giggled.

“Oh ok, I like that.” She knelt down to examine the blade, running her finger lightly against the edge only to grin wider when it came away with blood. She nodded to herself with a wide smile before encouraging the blade to retract, which it promptly did.

She sat back down on her bed before falling backwards to sprawl out across the silk sheets.

“Alright Gortash, I’ll accept your offering.” She spoke aloud though there were none else there to hear her words.

“So why don’t you show me what other toys you’ve got.”

#gortash x tav #enver gortash #bg3 tav #Oc: Vyr Umbranox #my writing

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flowers-of-io · 1 year

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alone, finally prompt for xivu >:3

Read on Ao3

On the day of Savathûn's death, Xivu Arath is crowned Queen of the Hive.

Oryx would find beauty in this, she thinks -- in the finality of this shape, the Osmium Kinghood chiseled and defined far beyond anything he could have attained. He would be proud of how far beyond the event horizon of his ambitions the Hive have moved. He would've been glad, seeing her carry his legacy on to such glory. She focuses on this furiously.

She thinks of this as she takes up her sword, thinks of it so hard it hurts, and rams the blade hard into the ground beside the hundreds of others encircling her throne. Its time has passed. She will forge a new one, a better one, longer and sharper and worthy of a Queen. A sword she can pierce through the shell of the Traveler-egg.

Tribute flows up the billions of tithe lines as she walks through her throne world, straight into the hungry jaws of her worm. It is sickly sweet on the tongue. With no one else at the top of the chain she is feeding more richly than ever before, the intake of power almost dizzying, filling her up in a steady stream. This is good. This is right. She is powerful--the most powerful that she's ever been, powerful enough to cleave the universe in two and scrape out its truths like the pit from a fruit.

She walks through the throne world, and the universe shrinks away from her in horror. Her presense thunders across the emerald sky. Her lieutenants, squadron captains, the lesser Hive--all sink to their knees as she passes, heads bowing before the sole Queen of the Hive.

This is good. This is right.

The forge empties out the moment she enters, the tall winged door shutting behind her. She picks up tongs and a hammer, each as long as an Acolyte is tall, and moves to pump the bellows that unfold to the height of her shoulders. Fire roars. Xivu hammers the iron with all her might--the might of an armoured frigate, of a row of mortar cannons firing at once, of a full-throated battle cry. She hammers, and the steel gives in under her hand. She hammers, and the fabric of the universe vibrates like a taut membrane, her will ringing upon it with each strike. The bellows holler deafeningly. The handle she carves from osmium, silvery and crumpled and sharp like she is sharp; she knows it will be wounding her until her skin toughens to fit the hold. A plume of vapour hits her face as she sticks the sword into the water bucket with a hiss.

And then everything falls quiet.

The fire still rages, but it is a murmur after the deafening ringing of metal against metal. Through the shut door no sounds of battle slip in from the outside. The sword--dull, heavy, half her height--sits in Xivu's hand, fireglow flickering off the blade, and the sound echoes in the chamber as she gives it a swing and rams it against the stone rim of the hearth.

She struggles to hold herself back from ramming it again, maybe along with shoving the anvil to the floor and kicking the bucket for good measure. Anything to kill the silence--this insistent ringing that is the furthest thing from sound drilling into her skull--but she manages, and only tightens her hold on the handle until the osmium cuts through her skin.

She will grow from this. She will sharpen this blade, and every drop of blood she feeds it will be a testimony of her might and the proof of her rule. She will continue to earn her place at its edge. It is good, it is right. She focuses on this.

She swings the sword again, so hard her wrist joint screams in pain, and the sound of metal hitting stone ripples through the empty forge.

#vyr you are EVIL for requesting this prompt aaaa #pain agony etc #fic tag #xivu arath #little war sister #hive #destiny 2 #keeping up with the osmium dynasty

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