scarbound

[scarbound]

um ... hi ? i miss my bitey boy . i had to deal with some trauma(tm) and i just couldn't bring myself to be here .

i'm going to try to be around very soon . i miss astarion so much . and i miss you guys c':

[scarbound]

i miss my boy c':

i'll be here once classes are done i promise <3

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sorry guys ... my head isn't in a great place and i don't want to bring that to my writing or the dash . c - ptsd nightmares have been a thing ( despite my meds to keep that from happening ) and class stuff has me exhausted physically and mentally . i just need to focus on myself for a little while . sorry .

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i spent all of yesterday working on a presentation for school , so i'm going to vibe with games for a bit and make no promises for interaction <3

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BALDUR’S GATE 3 (2023) — developed by larian studios.

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    --- BITTER AS NIGHTSHADE !!

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" so if i'm understanding you correctly , it's fates design for us to live and i shouldn't worry about running fangs first into disaster? " his voice is laced with the hint of mockery . his fate has always been to waste away in the sewers until cazador had a use for him . become presentable for an evening or two ... rinse and repeat . though , the skeleton's second statement gives him pause and brings a tightness to his chest . " cheated death ? you think i've cheated death ? " the spawn's voice rises , anger bubbling in his tone . " i have been dead for centuries . rotting from the inside out . don't you dare mistake my lack of decay for being alive . "

     "If thee or thy companions perish on thy treacherous path, I shalt repair the broken thread of fate." A slow hand rose as he spoke, drifting across the wind with curling digits, as if pulling on something beyond the visible eye. It was strange.

     "One may argue that thee has't cheated death as well." Withers responded with the same ol' melancholy, unbothered and unfazed by the curiosity and confusion of mortals. "Doest mean thou art worth more than thee've let on?"

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POV: ur an enemy and it’s Astarion’s turn in combat

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confusion paints across his face , cheeks flushing ever so slightly as the minimal blood in his system courses through his veins . brows raise at @oakthcrn , caught without words for one of the few times in his life . " ah ... rum actually adds a touch of spice to the blood... " the lie spills from his lips without a thought . he's never had blood tainted by alcohol , but admitting that feels wrong . he wants to hold onto some semblance of pride .

tongue drags over the point of a fang , hungry eyes flicking from the other's face to the pulsing vein in his neck . the day had been ... oddly uneventful . there has been little to sink his teeth into and he was hungry . he can't deny it . but a feast is never offered without a price ... is it ? " and what do you want in return ? "

❝ Ma blood may nae be all that guid, Astarion, ah drink too much rum. ❞ He grinned, his freckled face lighting up as he bundled his hair up into a messy bun upon the top of his head.

He craned his head to reveal his freckled neck.

❝ But here ya go, ah ken yer hungry ah see it in yer eyes. Drink but dinna kill me, ye hear? Ah've been drinkin' lots of water too ( rum ) so there should be plenty. ❞ He tapped the side of his neck.

❝ Dinna fash yerself, yer bites tickle me. ❞

@scarbound liked for a starter.

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it's odd , truly , just how much he's grown to trust those around him . perhaps it had been the promise of keeping him from cazador's clutches but anyone could have promised that . but these people ? oh these people ... he believes that they just might be able to make it happen . but that doesn't mean he trusts the parasite or the visitor that's invaded their sleep . hasn't he had enough of strange men worming their way into his life to force him to do their bidding ? it's his master in a more fitting body ... the monster he should be. but the spawn doesn't dare speak that out loud , doesn't dare think it too long because who knows how much of his thought the emperor can hear . he's just ready to be free of it .

though he can't find loneliness , he can't help but flee to the tip of the ruins , legs hooked over the ledge as he sits , statuesque in stillness as eyes of flame lock on the picturesque skyline of home . home . he'd thought he'd never return . that he'd either find death on the road or he'd run far enough that cazador's influence could never reach him . but here he is , eyes lingering on the peaks of a castle he'd spent hundreds of years trying to escape . he's walking right back into the lion's den ... and he can only hope that his trust isn't misplaced .

he's long since given up on prayer . there had been a time he'd tried to appeal to deities , a time when he'd thought he could garner enough favor to escape the worst of his life . but all he'd gotten was silence . he'd watched as those in the streets of baldur's gate were blessed and chosen while he was ignored and forgotten , left to feed in the sewers . it hadn't been fair . and , yet , nothing about it had surprised him .

he hears her coming ... it's hard not to . but he allows her the grace of pretending to sit in silence , too lost in thought to acknowledge her approach . it isn't until she speaks that he turns towards her . " i don't own the ruins , darling . " his voice is almost teasing , laced with a kindness that's appeared over weeks of travel . he's still not sure how he feels about it . " if we're being honest , i'm still waiting to wake up and this all be a dream and we're trapped back in the shadows , or worse , that disgusting mindflayer base . " his nose wrinkles in disgust before he turns his gaze back towards the city . " i wish you were seeing the city under better circumstances . it's really quite a treat on the best of days . " it's the nights you have to worry about .

it's odd to feel anxious, she thinks, without the threat of inflicted parasite. this trek had left the unsavory visitors of some of her camp mates dormant, but was that only by sheer luck ? the whole dream visitor thing seems absurd ... but perhaps she's a touch of a skeptic. if respective gods hadn't intervened (sans the illusive goddess of magic requesting gale martyr himself, technically), why would some stranger with an otherworldly power suddenly and conveniently come to the aid of another ? it doesn't rub her right, surely, but it isn't her place ... isn't her fight, nor her fate. (is it human curiosity or the unfortunate call to empathy that drove her to stick around ? it wasn't like this unknown guide could do much for the volatile magic under her fingernails, behind teeth clamped tight.)

still ! she wiggles her way up the hefty ruins overlooking city - for a moment, the entirety of the realm draws quiet. people below simply living ... parents and their children, passing traders and adventurers, guards swapping shifts while cats hunt their late night snack. one of the few cities she had yet to see, even trailing father's coattails after the death of her mother. she wonders how much of it was delegating perilous routes to others versus how much of was actual fate. not that it matters now - she'll see baldur's gate and write her father about it. he'll tell her she should consider coming home for awhile.

he'll tell her that her roses are wilting and her staff isn't throwing anything for the crows. and she'll perhaps consider it, teeter on believing him. (but home is a sore spot, no matter how she decorates or manipulates spaces - there's a ghost there that she cannot simply face.)

" hope you don't mind, @scarbound. " she barely notices him in the haze of her own thoughts. and even before he answers, she takes it upon herself to sit a comfortable distance away ... rings clattering against stone, traveling dress fanned out around her sitting form. truly she doesn't care if he does or doesn't, it's a better view than some of the other elevated spots - and she's notoriously selfish, or so she's been told. hands tuck between thighs to ward off the evening chill, lungs swelling with a heavy breath. (it's wonderful to be out of that shadow cursed mess.) " i was beginning to think we'd never get here. " her stare doesn't pull from skyline, though her sentiment is clearly directed his way.

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The chokehold he still has on me is vile.

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honeyed words are his specialty . they drip from tainted tongue , poison laced and sweet . he spins a tale , a story he wants believed no matter the distrust that rises from the other . there's far too much risk in letting anyone any closer . he knows not what they know of baldur's gate or cazador . there is always the chance that in the shadows he's taken something from them and if he reveals too much he could find himself at the business end of a stake .

so he's quiet , debating his words and sharpening his tongue . he allows a predator's smile to pull to his lips as his head cants to the side and he swirls the wine in the glass perched between his fingers . " i do mind . have you asked the others to share their tragic backstories or am i special ? "

❝... Your words are as sweet as honey, and your tongue sharp. There is more to the story than what you are sharing.❞ They speak bluntly, light azure gaze studying the pale elf before taking slow steps closer and closer until they are a mere breathe away. ❝Do you mind sharing?❞

sc. || @scarbound

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more studies with astarion!!

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Here's the result of me listening to IT GIRL too many times, anyways happy new year! 🤠

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I AM ALIVE AND WORKING ON THINGS

gonna make more use of my queue <3

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Fate spins along as it should.