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[bakrahispul]

Amused was the easiest word that could describe the plaster of emotions on Halsin's face. The eager reciprocation was always a pleasant response towards his swift, quippy answers. Though, perhaps what felt more entertaining to come out of this little conversation were the choice words given by Astarion as an evaluation of the druid's seemingly promiscuous past. Was it an astute observation? Or an unfettered blurt from Astarion's unrestrained thoughts?

"On all fours? Yes. I do suppose my tuning with nature has affected my own behaviors." He commented, twirling and rolling their bodies about on the verdant foliage, leaving the poor vampire underneath the burly presence, smothered by the waning fragrance of the crushed flora and Halsin's earthy redolence. "I'd like to think that I've acquired a rather extensive repertoire from the experiences that have shaped my journeys..."

The campmates were surely asleep a this point. Those who were not either distanced their tent or simply used these sounds to aid their own sleep.

"On the mud. Covered in mud. Slathered in honey. Amidst the rain. Underneath a tree on a heavy drizzle. Toasted beside a campfire. Surrounded in a blazing forest."

It all sounded like horrid environments for lovemaking, did it not?

"Betwixt mating beasts. In a mother's den. Surrounded by voyeuristic Drow. Surrounded by priest in a temple of Sune. Upon the peak of a mount. Below the glow of nightlights in the Underdark."

Each listing had Halsin's hands pry open Astarion's own, intertwining his fingers with them as his arched, crawling presence mimicked the playful mock that the vampire said so casually moments before. Clothed and certainly still keeping modesty, Halsin's locks draped over to provide a private audience with Astarion's visage, separating the world for just a moment.

"I think it's only necessary that we take the moonlit mood and revel for a moment. Our travels in the shadow-cursed lands wont offer as much respite as we get right now..." He suggested.

It was a fair assumption, however. Dark and gloomy sex might not be as enjoyable when there are several wraiths nearby for intentions other than watching. Who knows when another night can be shared by these two and these two alone?

The sentiment was echoed with a calm, inquisitive little smirk as he watched the druid’s hands wander, brushing fingers against the expanse of his milk white skin, more indulgent than exploratory. A long inhale into a longer exhale.

Fuck.

“Hm… Fascinating.” Astarion wasn’t sure he understood the half of it, trying not to give away intent when every nerve ending his body possessed simply begged to melt into that damned elf’s hands. “I suppose most people do need a little something for their moral compass to point at. Ah…” A drawn out sound that could have been placed anywhere between sigh or moan slipped. “Exitus acta probat... ends, means, all that.”

In his assumption that the woodland elf favoured vampire over food, having clearly had his fill of one but not the other, Astarion stashed the piece of bread into the bowl and pushed it aside like an afterthought.

“Well, that sounds to me like a lot of thinking for something you could just… do.” A mischievous glint sparked in the blood red sky of his eyes, voice dipping into a more sultry undertone. “But to each their own, I suppose. Personally, I find the best solutions tend to be at the pointy end of the finer things in life.” With his body now pinned to Halsin's, Astarion let out a gasp, feigning surprise. “The end of a dagger… the end of a cock.”

What was that about enslavement again?

His meandering hands stopped halfway up the druid's thigh and, after a generous squeeze, Astarion tilted his head, glancing up over his shoulder to lock stares with the druid. “I mean, can you blame them? You do look good on all fours… and I don't just mean that majestic wild shape of yours.” Words laced with humor, but heavy with an invitation, were left suspended between the pair.

[bakrahispul]

The thought of a second wasn't particularly difficult, given that the druid's own reserves felt functional enough for another set of roughhousing. The thought of continuing it in the tent was left to better tastes, however.

Halsin's presence intertwined with Astarion's invasive touch. Welcomed and appreciated, the bulky druid shuffled the lanky elf upon his lap, ridding the need to entice such thoughts with a passive grope on the hip in place of simply straddling the goods as a seat.

"A balance is encouraged, but can be overlooked." Halsin responded. "Where benevolence goes, righteousness shadows. Every druid has a unique view on how they treat themselves and the world they must support, for without it we would all be following the same values." He alluded. Nettie's disappearance and the discovery of the shadow druid's surreptitious operations were reasons enough. Every circle strives for the same goal - the only difference is how they pave their way to realize it.

"But for me? I wouldn't say 'ruthlessness' is baked into me any more than you could say for a paladin exercising his faith. What is right and wrong never changes as the seasons pass, but like the weather..." He trailed off, craning his sights upwards as Astarion's seated presence looked down upon Halsin's moonlit features as the night overtook the skies. The camp members had long since retired to their tents when eavesdropping the two lovebirds yielded naught but embarrassing flirts for hours on end. Their strength could be saved for pushing onwards to the shadow-cursed lands.

"...It is volatile. Storms can pass. Drizzles may return. Violence comes and goes, as long as I enact it with justification. It does not come with regret, but I carry it with pride and shame." He continued, euphemizing his answer to let Astarion dwell upon it.

But so soon after his admission, Halsin's calloused hands reached up to Astarion's cheek cupping it while the other snaked under his shirt to hold his back. Like a bear longingly gazing at its golden prize, the druid smiled.

"Of course, centuries will make any lover rough and rife with their ministrations. Mayhap a dash of enslavement at a Drow manor may also be a cause."

Witty, Halsin could never let the tension get too pensive when he's around the playful vampire, especially when they did not have their privacy secured in camp yet.

Halsin’s suggestive words didn’t fall on deaf ears, drawing a coquettish smirk from Astarion. His skin still tingled with the memory of their rather… dishevelled affair. The inside of the vampire’s tent wasn’t exactly designed for comfort, being more of a glorified cupboard for the storage of a few dodgy blood jars and every other valuable trinket he stumbled upon.

Then again, Astarion reckoned his archdruid companion had braved far worse than the rickety plank of wood the vampire generously referred to as a bed. Though, admittedly, he had been on the lookout for a few tapestries, or just about anything that would upgrade the ambience a bit, if not its comfort.

A more suitable place for the living rather than the undead.

“You know, I wouldn’t be terribly opposed to continuing our little ménage à doux.” Astarion’s hand slid onto Halsin’s forearm, fingers gliding down his hair-strewn skin before intertwining with the archdruid’s own, guiding it to land on his thigh. “So… are you always this nice, or is there a dash of ruthlessness buried somewhere in there? I mean, clearly, you have standards.” It almost looked as though the vampire perked up a little after saying that.

[bakrahispul]

The comforting approach was something to enjoy. Light yet playful in the sense of teasing, Halsin found Astarion's presence more and more delightful. From the soft ministrations such as nestling close to being fed endearingly, it felt as though there was no other way to have dinner except with the aid of his newest lover.

"A compliment? Of course it is a compliment. I don't think I could stomach insulting you - for there's no imperfection worth making a problem out of." Halsin responded.

When given the question of joining their party, his features softened. While it was clear that he was amicable with the group - bordering on admiration for a certain vampiric member, it didn't come so straightforward that he now accompanied them and their destinies.

Halsin's hands shifted gently as he nabbed the soup-saturated bread with a peckish nip. The tone changed slightly as his dialed-up admiration calmed for a moment.

"In terms of aiding on your own plans...well..."

His brow wrinkled. It was clear that there was a break in this mood to be serious.

"...I have a duty that must be upheld. A path laid out for me that I must follow." He gently diverted the question. "I am thankful that our paths have crossed so far to keep it like this, but there are things I must attend to in the shadow-cursed lands that need not concern the urgency of your own destiny."

Was this an elaborate way of saying he might not join them?

"Though, if your kindness extends to aiding my endeavors, I can assure you that my body will be used for your cause immediately after."

Well, that answers the question. The insistence of his 'body' being used as the emphasis was laced a little with flirtation, as if Halsin reciprocating the hand-feeding towards Astarion wasn't enough.

"A little give and take, if you will. Though I think you've already experienced that a little with our activities." He chuckled, teasing the charismatic elf to swiftly ease the tension back to a lighter mood.

Halsin’s magic had a comforting warmth to it. Tingling and soothing, it spread through the skin like sunlight, a sensation the vampire was bound to miss once their journey came to a close. Unless…?

With a deft, feline grace, Astarion moved the archdruid’s hand away from his face, sliding into Halsin’s lap. He plucked the bowl from his lover’s grasp, nestling closer beneath the thick, woolen shawl draped over that gentle giant’s broad shoulders, big enough for two. Breaking off another piece of bread, Astarion dipped it into the soup and hovered it near Halsin’s lips with a mischievous look about him.

"Is that a compliment?" He intoned, tenor so soothing his words might as well have been sung.

Rogues, by nature, had a penchant for pilfering, and Astarion certainly lived up to his reputation, slipping away with the archdruid's heart somewhere between that secret hideout heist and their first night of hedonistic indulgence.

“And when exactly do you intend to grace us with your company on one of our little escapades, hm?” The vampire purred, voice wrapped in velvet and playful curiosity alike. “Not that I’m complaining about having such a… fine sight to come back to, but I cannot help but wonder about the full extent of your many, many talents.”

Astarion’s breath caught when he spoke. It was as if the very idea of seeing the archdruid in action was enough to stir something deep within him. A dark desire, every bit as decadent as the breathless undertone in his voice suggested.

[bakrahispul]

The approach was delightful, and the show laid out for him was positively delicious for the druid to witness. Like a hunter cornering his rather willing prey, Halsin watched the silver fiend of the night smother his private space, leaving naught to feel but the comforting chill of Astarion's body sharing itself upon Halsin's warm skin.

Bloodletting was never a sight that Halsin actively enjoyed, but left in the purpose of playful tendencies for the vampire boyfriend, he was willing to acclimatize to the tender, skin-pricking play. After all, there was nothing he could not weather through after his enslavement in a drow household that Astarion could ever produce.

Immediately those wiry arms rose from the depths of the lukewarm water, clamping and catching the elf in a hold where his arms snaked around the lithe body. 'Twas a scathingly differing display of a hairless, moonlit-locked elf upon a robust compared to a meatier, robust bear of a druid that it really gave meaning to the notion that opposites attracted.

"Obeying orders? I'd never thought you could. There always had to be some sort of gain for you to cooperate..." Halsin whispered back, dancing along their little dramatical act while his hands stretched open, splaying his fingers as they dug themselves with intent upon Astarion's back.

Meandering through, those well-maintained nails made work as his hands dragged them through a journey across Astarion's body, tracing a temporary line of pain.

A solemn acceptance. He already set into practice the vampire's unfortunate, masochistic admissions, working his methods slowly until he could accept harming his beloved for their own pleasure.

Finally, his hands met their journey's end - One palmed upon Astarion's right rear with its fingers digging into the plump meat; and the other situated upon the right side of his neck, gripping with care with the thumb right upon his artery.

Halsin had drawn Astarion's face away just a little, leaving him to face the druid while the lipstick of fresh blood was applied on the other side of that neck, leaving bloody kisses as a decoration.

"I thought the artwork would look nicer, but I've really just left bloody dots upon your neck." Halsin mused as his grip loosened on the vampire's neck as a momentary reprieve.

Astarion’s laugh was a hoarse, winded thing. Undead skin was dyed dark with the love mark, darker around the centre and fading out at the edges.

“By ocean I presume you mean this five by three feet wooden bathtub?” Adorable. And with the vampire down on all fours, he waded near. “Because you, my love, seem to bear the striking resemblance of an elf who would venture out into open waters yourself just to find me.” Not the other way around. “...if any dare challenge you or steal me away.” Or maybe just for a kiss.

The touch of his fingers landed like dew’s coldest whisper against Halsin’s sunbaked skin, matured with scents from their earlier tumble. Scarlet eyes were clouded over when the vampire nipped at his lover’s lower lip, drawing a bit of blood in the process and sucking the plump skin into his mouth before letting go with a plop. A hand came up past the archdruid’s knee, stroking the length of his thigh with a tender squeeze just shy of the base. Provocative.

“But since you’ve asked so nicely,” Astarion drew near, knees flanking the archdruid's thighs and a hand cradling the nape of his neck to press their foreheads together. “I suppose I could indulge.”

Halsin’s lips tasted of sunrise and honeyed wildflowers, where warmth and promise coalesced.

The archdruid kissed like a man in prayer.

[bakrahispul]

Even after their night-ridden romp, there was still a beguiling tone to the vampire that called to Halsin's core like no other. Carnal? Perhaps. Affection? More so. If Astarion craved more of his divine, burly frame then what other answer should be given other than yes?

The intermittent return of contact. Chin-to-shoulder. The icy, chill-laden breath that no living being could produce pricked at Halsin's wet skin in the dead of night. Normally he'd feel a warm caress enveloping his body but there was naught to be felt except Astarion's chilling presence.

At the thought of entertaining his thinly-veiled plea Halsin wondered about the meal he was going to prepare. All of the ingredients that might expire were still in the larder and anything else laid out in the kitchen was simply spice or other additives.

Perhaps...cooking can wait.

Just a little bit of indulgence is fine, right? Even after the sensual making of a beast of two backs back at the park in the middle of the night.

"10 minutes. For as long as the waters stay warm, I'll fulfill your tender plea."

Standing once more, Halsin's hefty presence entered on the south side opposite the vampire. To say the waters rose with the weight was an understatement. Even with the fine carpentry of the bathtub, there was still a mote of sadness in a budding tree losing its place in the sea of the forest just for becoming furniture to aid mankind.

The touch upon Astarion left as quickly as it came. The warmth that danced against that cold body dissipated, leaving that void that must be sated.

All that was left to feel was a kiss upon Astarion's neck. Simple, yet unruly, Halsin's teeth met that pale flesh with pressure as he suckled ever so gently. Pain? It didn't feel like he was harming him, yet there was this sensation as he left a considerable mark upon the vampire's neck - freshly bruised. A Hickey.

"No need to put on a show if they can simply see the results later."

Halsin wiggled and stretched his arms, lining the rim of the tub with those trunks. A knowing smile came to that face, offering a bit of bite back towards the needy little vampire.

"Mind if you swim across a sea to me? You can return the kiss I sent."

A drawn out exhale pried the vampire’s lips apart, quieting his voice when Halsin stood tall. An omnipresent deity poised to summon ancient powers of the earth and seas. The way chords of burnt blond, darkened by wetness, clung to the bare, herculean spread of the archdruid’s back, valleying the bank of a sturdy spine, was enough to scatter shivers all across the pale elf’s fair skin. Suddenly, a realisation dawned on the vampire, accompanied by this cutthroat yearning he hadn’t felt in two centuries, maybe more.

Halsin was a vision of the divine, and Astarion longed to see that elf under every light.

Seconds flew past, unnoticed as he blinked himself back to reality, grounding his awe the only way he knew: by remembering how to breathe. It took Astarion a few conscious blinks, but it wasn’t until the druid went down on one knee to fuss over him that the vampire snapped back to his senses with a sigh.

“Oh, this is cruel.” Astarion’s head lolled sideways to perch on his shoulder. Voice barely a sound over a whisper, smouldering just above the druid’s own breathing pattern.

Pale skin prickled with goosefleshes, and oh how it ached for the druid’s touch whenever his hands were absent. A desire so consuming it was almost criminal.

“Normally, I’m the one putting on a show to get a rise out of people… Now I see what all the fuss was about.” Astarion waited for Halsin to finish before grasping his arm and tugging gently at it. "The water's still warm, but it does feel a little colder when I'm here and you're still there."

Tentative. Inviting.

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"I think it's a fair assumption that many enjoy the festivities of the flesh. Folks are free to enact their pleasures - some a little more than others."

"Though, at the mention of your own goals, well..."

Halsin took a pensive moment, staring up at the same skies that the vampire glued his sights upon. Each individual has their own destiny. Some grandiose, some utterly benign. For Astarion's? Well...

"Personally, I think it's an adventure that holds excitement beyond these forests. Something entirely new for my world, yet not for yours."

It wasn't hard to discern that childish ambition still stuck within that hunky elf's body. The drive and desire to experience new things is an evergreen feeling for most adventurers.

"Though, I'm surprised you'd call me a paladin of sorts. I've not aligned myself with the deities of this realm, nor could I use magicks of their origin. The most I would admit to 'worshipping' in a sense is Sylvanus, more commonly known as the God of Nature."

Using his hand, Halsin reached to cup Astarion's cheek with it, illuminating his palm with a tender, amber glow. A familiar warmth emanated through the surface of the pale elf's skin. A casual display of the archdruid's strength.

"I use my power not for violence, nor to inflict righteous conviction. A better explanation would be...self-defense? Perhaps that encapsulates my usage."

With that same power, a tendril of vines slowly encased Halsin's hand like a second, wiry glove. By the tip of his index finger, a small daisy bloomed.

"Paladin's seek to enforce. Druids seek to maintain. Transforming into animals I'd say, is a bonus." Halsin chuckled, lightening the mood. They have already encountered the paladins of Tyr, forming a clear impression when their brandished swords waved dangerously close to Karlach's neck.

"Likewise, I think it wouldn't be right for me to assume you're a thief. Though, with how aristocrats function in society, 'thief' seems more like a metaphor for their way of living."

Honest and true. Like Astarion said.

"Perhaps a better fitting name works. A rogue? A dashing one at that."

“And what reason would that be?” Astarion pressed on, crimson eyes visibly straying from apathy to intrigue– sharpening as he sought for any crumbs of underlying falsehood in the druid’s words.

Anything to splinter what the vampire reckoned to be a facade of goodness and moral high ground that the druid wore like a second skin.

Dishonest men were always easier to understand.

Honest ones, however, were puzzling in their simplicity. Their motivations opaque despite their transparency, making them the true enigmas in a rotten little world paved in deceit.

“I mean, clearly you enjoy the sex.” A chuckle as Astarion’s eyes rolled, waving off the obvious. “But you should know by now that my Modus Operandi is questionable at best and you’re so…” A thumb rubbed over the pinched pads of his fingers as if that would aid him in his quest for a word to describe the druid. “Honest and... fair?”

Unbearably so.

Shifting stances to roll on his side, the pale elf admired his companion for a quiet moment before looking off to the campfire once again. Anchored to his musings, deep and deeper still, but shallow enough to be read in the curious gleam of the blood red skies that were the vampire's eyes.

“You’re nothing short of a paladin on an oath of devotion, really. Except maybe for the leaves and the whole turning into animals thing.”

[bakrahispul]

In comparison to the languidly lounging vampire, Halsin settled on a stool beside him, seating himself with spread legs and carefully dousing his upper body with a wooden pail of water. Glistening briefly, the icy water worked well against his heated and sweating form, washing away his carnal sins as it slowly pooled on the drainage.

Simplicity won over scented grooming for the druid, but he could always appreciate the floral delights dancing in the air as the bath oils created a wonderfully sanitizing concoction. Looking towards Astarion, he mused about the words being told.

What is love? Was there really an objective description for it? Astarion's view worked and Halsin felt himself agreeing with these opinions, but a part of him wanted to correct- nay, add to the explanation.

"Wanting one to stay? I can agree with that sentiment. Though the same can be applied to your most trusted confidants..." He added his input, turning to let his wands wander with the bar of soap, leaving suds on the wiry hairs enforested upon his chest while his face turned pensive.

"I guess.... if I were to have my say on how it feels to love and be loved: I'd simply describe the sensation as a yearning."

With another pail of water splashed upon his body, the rest of his routine finished.

"A yearning that needs not be harmful, but a comfort. It's a mote of reassurance that your evenings feel better with that person, whoever it may be."

Standing tall, his naked form wasn't really a surprise at this point, but for sure its beauty was amplified just a tad more under the moonlight cast from the open window. Hopefully peeping toms were not nearby.

"That's how it feels for me. A yearning. A need, for a better explanation. You are my need."

Of course, ever the gentleman, the druid squatted and worked like a maid, scrubbing off Astarion in the bath soon after. Cooking will come shortly after, but pampering the once-aristocratic vampire was a priority.

The stove and ingredients were already set in the kitchen, placed neatly while the rest of the conscious camp members were idly eavesdropping on the two. Gossip for the group, they suppose.

It wasn't long until Astarion followed suit, having helped himself to an assortment of bath oils that he looked to Halsin for permission before dumping into the water. Steam quickly misted into wildrose and elderberries, a soft, pleasant scent that clung to the skin and complemented the vampire's perfume with floral undertones.

"I think I'm finally starting to understand it, you know?" Astarion spoke, turning over the small bottle of essential oil in his hold before, for the lack of a surface, he placed it down on the floor right by the bathtub. "This whole love thing." The pale elf elaborated. "I've spent well over two centuries in the arms of different people, but this is the first time I've ever wanted someone to stay."

It almost sounded like irony, universal and scathing.

Once the vampire had neared the bathtub, clothes pooled at the ankles, discarded, he sat down across from his lover to scoop some of the still heated water and run it over his arms. A pleasant tingle came over him, the sensation similar to soaking into a warm bath on a chilly night.

The body of the undead was always wrapped in eternal midnight chill.

"What do you plan on doing next, after this whole tadpole ordeal comes to a close?"

Easing back against the bathtub's edge, halfway dipped in bathwater and with scarlet eyes patiently stalking Halsin's motions, Astarion draped one arm over the wooden edge while the other was bent at the elbow, the pad of his thumb chalking between worrying whites.

[bakrahispul]

The thought of food was certainly something to explore in his centuries alive. Stricter than his code, his diet mainly insisted of floral substitutes whenever possible. There was simply something so in tune with a druid's way of life that harming those he tended to for basic needs was unacceptable.

Did it matter when other animals did the same thing? Of course not. Mother nature lets her children roam free and do as they please. It is simply a druid's way to shepherd them, not to copy them.

Though, he was never fully closed to a carnivorous meal. Open like a book, yet quick to shut. Everything must be tried at least once - even if it meant being offered roasted, sizzling meat that would otherwise send a barbarian into a drooling frenzy.

"I've got well enough in this head to give you a few dishes that might dazzle your tastebuds." Halsin chuckled, feeling Astarion slink into a more comfortable position. Like a cat, the lounging vampire found a lazy-looking, ergonomically pleasurable spot staring up at the sky.

"Calamari? A creature from the sea...Hrm. I'm not opposed to it, nor anything I haven't tried before. I shall bring my own spices when the time comes." He answered honestly. Tales of the waters beyond only came back with vile and monstrous beasts, but somewhere in between the old wive's tales surely revealed simple aquatic creatures that those very same monsters were born from.

The meddling of his fabrics had the druid looking back down, blotting Astarion's starry-lit view with the face of a soft, worn man. Halsin's reached upwards to carefully remove the fabric of his locks. Like a gentle river, the brunette forest of hair draped like luxurious curtains. Some curles. Some were stiff. Others shone under the campfire light.

"Gratitude? I'd like to think that you simply found a better place to...-how do you say it? 'Have fun?"

Halsin has heard the comments prior. Reveling in heroic deeds was bland. What could ever replace it? Sex. Of course. Perhaps more baseless, hedonistic drinking and partying. Whether it had to be with goblins was not in Halsin's interest, but at least he could fulfill some half of Astarion's wish.

"I make my intentions clear. If I wanted another loose soul in that party I would not even make my presence for those to see. I've set my eyes on you for a reason."

Supposedly, this was his constant method to reaffirm his love for this mischievous rogue. Halsin could be straightforward, but love has many languages.

Halsin managed to haul the vampire back from his musings with a start. The piece of bread in his hold now part turned into crumbs. With a click of his tongue, Astarion placed it on top of the druid’s thigh like it was a table to pat down his own lap.

“Oh, I was never in the habit of cooking my own meals – we had someone for that – though my father did take me out on hunting trips on occasion.”

It was safe to assume that the pale elf had once lived among wealth. There must have been some morsel of truth to his magistrate high tale after all.

“But if you’re looking to sink your teeth into something delicious,” Judging by the suggestive look Halsin gave him, Astarion scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Other than me, of course, I remember the calamari back in the elfsong tavern to be the stuff of legends. There’s maybe some hope that they’ve kept the recipe over the centuries.”

After being rid of the last of the crumbs, which early birds were bound to peck at, the vampire settled down next to his companion, upper half propped up on his forarms as he leaned back, and shifted his gaze up to the skies once more. A dark, endless sea peppered with tiny pinpricks of light reminiscent of staring down at the cityscape from above, except he was looking up from below instead.

“I suppose I owe you my gratitude.” Astarion began once more, swapping the sight of the starlit dome for the shifting gold of the archdruid’s hazel eyes. It caught the firelight within it and reflected its dancing pattern in a way the vampire would have imagined the eyes of an angel to do so. Warm and celestial. “For stealing me away from those tieflings back at the party I mean. I would have hated to hear one more person thanking me for saving their skin.”

Idly did Astarion toy with the fabric of the druid's robes between a middle finger and an index, tugging playfully at it for attention.

[bakrahispul]

The thought of sharing wasn't entirely off the table. Halsin's love blossomed well when there were budding roses beside his favorite. The temporary monogamy between the two seemed to be going well enough to simply call it as it was. The druid's door was open for more avenues of adoration - but as it stands his eyes only fixated on one being: that being the silver-locked rogue making his own little nest within Halsin's protective, arched arms.

"Hrm. Pig's blood? I shall have to record my experience with it. While I'm comfortable with you folks subsisting on carnivorous diets, I may have to approach this with studious apprehension.." He muttered, using his other arm to hold his chin. With what little he garnered from the taste of his own metallic blood, he expected to experience perhaps are far more primal, unpleasant sensation with that of a member of the porcine family.

"After all, the most I've enjoyed was the calamari I was given the delight to consume a couple moons ago."

A wriggly creature that was. Seeing it butchered by a reckless chef and promptly turned into a 'delicious snack' felt almost like a betrayal when the rich, sea-ridden taste landed on his tongue. Through looks alone, it barely passed, but Halsin nearly devoured the entire being without a second thought.

Traversing through the night air made for a lovely atmosphere, were it not for the foul scent plaguing even the more flora-ridden spots of the city. Halsin carefully shifted through alleys and empty roads on their way back to the tavern...

Which, of course, was lit up like a beacon. Patrons had yet to leave or rather, they had left their drooling, snoring bodies near the counter and the floor for even a pathetic pickpocket to nab a modest payday or two.

Their arrival into the tavern garnered no attention despite a few lingering stares that rolled away back to the golden hue of their glass mugs.

"Leave your body to rest. I've got a bit of energy left in me to make a mote of flame for our cooking station."

Upwards into the inn, Halsin gave himself proper bathing with his door open, for the rest of the party had their own activities to pursue, whether it be snoozing like a log, or meditating elsewhere. Astarion was welcome for a brief delight, but rinsing the impurities properly off the druid's fine, burly body was needed.

Astarion’s trauma sliced pieces from his sanity, a memento of torn lips, the watercolour spill of bruises, and trickles of blood curling down from his nostrils never strayed far from his thoughts. One raised hand was met with wound shoulders and a bowing head, but all Halsin did was to caress him. Skin on skin first, then the cloth. Aftercare was nothing the pale elven beauty ever expected to have been on the receiving end of.

They never lasted long enough for affection to take root anyway.

Silence filled the outline of the city-sounds coming alive, but the brewing dark cloud which loomed overhead kept any stray wanderers away from the park. Petrichor came fragrant the only way it could be, earthy and gentle, but the stench of the streets was bound to overwhelm it as soon as they walked out of the park. Already it stung the pale elf’s nostrils to tears, but this was the stench he’d spent centuries with.

It wouldn’t be long until the smell faded into blissful oblivion.

“Oh? And here I thought you didn’t terribly mind sharing.” The vampire stepped into his undergarments and trousers, being quick to slip on his shirt and tuck it into the cured black leather before tying its laces. “I suppose we could call the chamberlain to draw us a bath, get you some food while at it.” Having been claimed by the archdruid’s protective arm, the vampire nestled close to his lover and sighed contently, being mindful to fix his curls. Or at the very least try to. “You know, I found this peddler just the other night who sold pig’s blood. Apparently there are dishes made with the stuff, and I do happen to have a bottle waiting for me back at the inn.”

It was hardly a feast by comparison to the blood of his victims, but it was something.

[bakrahispul]

While muddled, the aftercare the druid provided came with the utmost consideration. Not a speck of dust nor dirt was left on the pale elf's body as he cleaned him from the floor, shuffling awkwardly to wipe a rag against his features while the poor thing clung to him and provided a pretty smile for the messy moment.

His question was answered, earning another charming smile on those features while the soft beads of sweat were wiped clean upon glistening skin. There was only so much that Halsin's rag could wipe off - but at least the effort made itself clear.

Halsin helped Astarion up, wobbling his knees gently as the consequences of their roughhousing made themselves apparent on their sore limbs.

Gentle bruises had marked their waists and backs from the harsh surface of the tree. Blots of soreness painted their thighs from excessive pressure either with their bodies or against the floor. The creeping cold that kept itself at bay now sunk into their bones, reaping the waning warmth that only made itself present with rigorous lovemaking.

Even the stench of the city wormed its way to their nostrils. The otherwise salacious scent of sex and fluids was overpowered by the filth and rot of the city the moment the druid finally sharpened his senses post-rut. Had they not made love in a park where the barest semblance of nature presented itself, Halsin might have been distracted throughout the whole session.

By the time Halsin cleaned their bodies up, he had himself shivering softly while the vampire stood tall and unaffected, left to pose like a naked statue among the breezy winds.

Reaching out, Halsin provided Astarion's clothes that were folded neatly before their raunchy session.

"The ground will dry up before the morn. Let's get back home at the inn, shall we? A bath to wash the sins off would be nice before I retire for the evening." Halsin spoke softly, landing an arm across Astarion's shoulder, roping him close.

"Well. After you get dressed. Better keep that elven beauty for my eyes only."

Surging fear gripped his heart like a vise tightening its hold on metal, and almost as if on command, Astarion deigned not look at his master in the eye. Curled up where he was left, all but stripped of his defences, the pale elf braced his head and tucked it in between wound up knees as if to protect himself for the barrage of assault that would normally follow after.

First were the insults. Then, the abuse.

Preened pointy ears met with no jest teasing into hostility. There were no caustic remarks being registered that night, but rather, something warm– sticky sweet. A concern that didn’t belong in his prison. And it was only when the rattle of chains didn’t follow his movements that the pale elf ventured a gander between the gap of forearm and arm shielding his head from any rogue blows.

The face was familiar, weathered with the centuries, but no less enticing than it had been the first they’d met.

“Halsin?” Fear matured into relief all across those beautiful elven features and the vampire pushed himself on his knees to seize the archdruid’s arms, delivering himself into his embrace.

Warmth radiated from those strong, veiny limbs and permeated the pale elf’s fair skin. A moment that stretched into minutes, and minutes felt like a century before Astarion eased back to hold on to his lover’s face almost as if reassuring himself that this was no illusion. That Halsin had been real all along.

“No.” He hesitated, smoothing his voice with the undertone of a low, drawling purr. “You were perfect.”

Astarion settled his lie with a kiss.

[bakrahispul]

As a mediator, it was in his best interests to keep things civil. Though, with tensions rising like the afternoon sun it was clear that there may be some intervention needed.

Speaking out to cut through the hostility was Halsin's first input before the two individuals collectively recoiled at something the druid could not sense. A psychic connection perhaps? He certainly did not share their sudden pangs of pain. His hand gently twitched with a soft, verdant glow, readying a simple restoration should this harm grow too great.

"It seems as though you two share a greater bond than you expected." He observed. If this malady had something to do with the sudden infestation of goblins at the nearby selunite temple, then the situation might have gotten far worse than he expected.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the bank the Blade of the Frontiers was unwilfully subjected to horrid, intense visions of the greater hells. False truths? Surely. Each hacked skull made by the tiefling woman before him through each painful, passing vision showed her defiance to her captors.

The shared feelings. The vitriolic rage to be freed from enslavement. These did not fit the villainous picture painted by his contractor. Hells, these painted a poor soul being used as a tool for the greater evil if anything.

One could never take these visions as truth. Perhaps it was a trick! All devils were mischievous - even their pawns. That must be so...

...and yet, the feelings that surged through every fibre of his being sought for a wisp of sympathy. Fake or not. It was a convincing psychic attack.

"Creatures from the hells should not be given a scrap of forgiveness.. I - I know you've slaughtered innocents. You've raised your sword as a soldier in Zariel's army!"

"How can I accept these vision? How can I trust a devil?" Wyll groaned out, his eyes fierce with unkempt determination.

Halsin's eye sights switched towards the crumbling male. His rapier was poised, faltering even with his words being spat out. With his arms stretched, he fanned down the confrontation, hoping to lower the noise as his own senses felt a horrid presence fermenting in the near distance.

"My friend. Wyll, was it? What you see here is no devil. No wings bear her back. No malice is present in her eyes. She bears no intention other than fleeing for her own safety!" Halsin reasoned, mediating their little spat.

Reaching out, the druid unwrapped a set of linen to aid the tiefling's own injuries, patching what could be covered. The stench of iron was dizzying and would surely attract patrolling predators.

What kind, one might ask? Perhaps the newly born gnolls that were grotesquely hatched at the nearby broken bridge, crawling out of their mother's bodies to sniff the putrid air for their first meal, a trio that was unaware of the dangers spawned before them.

Just as quickly as caution was lowered, it raised its haunches and bared its teeth like a wild animal, cornered, and snarling at uncertainty. The Blade of Frontiers, once more on her tail. Truth be told, there was a small part of her that hoped he had returned home to his mistress, tail firmly tucked between his legs and full of mournful apologies about how he should've done better.

That's how devils lackeys worked, was it not? One leashed, the other a sharp tug and cutting punishment but a wave of a hand away?

The druid's words fell on deaf ears, and Karlach was caught in the uncomfortable limbo of fight or flight, where a part of her screamed at her to flee again, and the angry, vengeful part of her wanted to make ready for the battle. Common sense, however, would win out of the war of the two. An underdog most unexpected.

Slowly, Karlach raised her hands. They were empty, palms well-scarred and burned from her stint in the hells. Halsin's jolly laughter felt out of place enough that her head turned towards the sound, but her eyes remained firmly on the wrathful ones of the Blade. "Something like that." She was fucking cornered, and this time, without the lay of the land memorised, she might as well have been caged and awaiting her execution.

"Listen, man," Karlach said. "Let's not be hasty." A step backward. Her heel sank into the softness of the riverbank behind her and she paused. No use, when there was nothing but a river and solid cliff behind her.

The parasite reached for his, and Karlach felt a sharp, stabbing pain behind her eye. Something in her head squirmed and wriggled, dived deeper into the softness of her mind. Hands once raised in surrender cradle her temples as though the press of her palms could do anything to ease it. She can it herself, now. The tireless war-waging. The blaze of glory she burned across the hells under the command of Zariel. Reluctance. Fear. Guilt. All of it.

As the vision faded, and panic quickly settled in the pit of her belly, cold and uncomfortable.

"I promise you, I am not what or who you think I am, can you not see sense?"

[bakrahispul]

Their return to the camp looked as uneventful as expected. Not even a single member batted an eye at the slightly disheveled elf and his affectionate druid companion who walked with a slightly whiter shade of skin. One might think that they would have forgotten about the two if they had never even returned.

Dinner came and went with the group providing their share and hobbling away with their little dishes. Of those that he could notice, Halsin caught a raw, strong smell of grilled boar from the githyanki. Unseasoned and as simplistic as one could get, dripping with fats and the gamey taste of meat. In greater contrast, the sharran priestess had her own soup garnished with foraging that she did not share with the rest of the group. The milky gruel looked far more appetizing when spruced with flavors and herbal additives. Clearly, she was a little more civilized in palate compared to the rest of the group.

As for Halsin himself, simplicity is king. His meddling with the soup came from his personal pouch of spices and herbs, finding greater success in taste with a wider stash of ingredients not from this area. When coupled with a simple piece of bread to provide a base for the juices to soak in it became a delightful meal that mellowed one's body and soul.

"I admire everyone's own taste. For sure you can find enjoyment in the flavors meat brings, but I can always direct you to simpler alternatives." Halsin respectfully suggested. Meat was a picky subject, even back at the grove with the newer generation of druids. One must still respect that nature operates with those who eat meat and those who eat flora. It is merely a druid's choice to consume with moderation.

Though, even as he spoke his response, he could already anticipate the playful scoff from the vampire. Looking at him, Halsin noticed the lack of noise and the stupor made in its wake. Vacant eyes over a dancing fire.

The druid rested his right hand on Astarion's left shoulder, leaving his presence to slowly snap him out of those wandering thoughts while his voice cut through the silence to reach out.

"If you can remember the recipes, maybe you can treat me to a carnivorous meal someday. I'll do my best to rate it well, now." He chuckled, appealing to the beloved memories that troubled the vampire's mind.

Chitchat on their way back to camp wasn't unheard of. In fact, Halsin normally made a habit of it and Astarion mirrored the sentiment in kind. Instead of chopping up the stray branches blocking their path, the rogue would simply push them out of the way before they whipped back in place.

“What? You said I could take whatever I wanted when we met again in that little chamber of secrets of yours.” The very chamber Astarion had been looting when Halsin came by. “Well, I did. And look where it got us! I’m healing, and your strength has been restored. I see no finer arrangement anywhere from here to Baldur’s Gate.”

When in camp, the pale elf detached from his companion to brood over a book from Gale’s collection.

It was often that their local wizard would prepare something within Halsin’s dietary restrictions. And it was watching the burly elf dip a piece of grain bread in soup that Astarion started a conversation anew with his partner while eased sideways against the cushions piled next to his own tent.

“There was a time they expected all elves to be vegetarian. But I’m sure you, of all people, would remember that.” Thoughtfulness was stoked into smugness along with a smirk, his wounds all but healed now. “Not many of you left among the race… Vegetarian elves, I mean. Can’t say I’ve ever been one myself. I could never quite resist the taste of roast rothe ribs in the evening or ham cured in honey first thing in the morning.”

A far off look fell upon him when crimson shifted from the burly elf’s meal to the crackling campfire as memories drew near, and Astarion invited them nearer like an old friend. There were not plenty of those the vampire recalled, and the few he did he tried to hold on to. Like a charm or memorabilia.

[bakrahispul]

The ursine watched with casual interest. The hostility did not feel palpable, but the strangeness of the situation definitely forced some caution. The order was simple and clear, yet strange enough for the common peasant to simply consider running away.

And yet, despite this, the bard carried it out for him with quiet diligence. Admirable and amusing all at the same time.

Halsin's form raised his two stubby paws out, softly clapping the moment the removal of the third comb made itself clear. Quiet applause for the brave soul. The myriad of threats from the high-pitched bees whizzing around their words in a whirlwind were absolutely not nice at all, inciting danger if she took one more than she needed.

The slow descent from the tree and the approach from nearby was in silence with those beady black eyes trained upon the young woman with his prize. Stoic, yet calm, the brown bear reached out his left palm for the offering.

"One should never follow orders blindly."

It spoke again. Was this admonishment?

"However, kindness can and will be rewarded."

Keeping two of the honeycombs, the bear stacked them and kept it in its spacious maw. His paws weaved and snapped the final comb in two, letting its obsidian-colored claws buzz softly in a verdant light upon the yellow, honey-stuffed wax.

Offering the glowing piece, he stretched out his paw to offer the glowing piece, all while reserving the other half as a choice - though not one to be picked.

"Your efforts, rewarded."

His magicks did naught in harm except sweeten the raw honey into something more palpable for the human palate. Perhaps this was another test, given his earlier comment? Or perhaps this seemingly generous bear wanted to show his gratitude.

@bakrahispul from this

...New. This was new.

She wished she hadn't run out of Speak with Animal potions. They were a delight for any bard looking for uncommon inspiration, no doubt, and frankly were a peach for situations like this where you were trying to convey to the local wildlife that you just wanted some apples and were probably too skinny to eat.

She was aware most bears were hardly predatorial when it came to the mortal races, mainly due to the aforementioned skinniness. Not to mention fish and fruit were far easier and more pleasant fare...and honey. Granted the last tended to be guarded, but a bear's hide made it worth the trouble at times.

But not...today?

"Well, Lord Bruin...if...I'm understanding you right." Hopefully. "I had rather the same aim myself, but I'm quite happy to share."

It'd have made her dinner all the more pleasant, but sharing was preferable to dealing with an irritated bear. "Hold on a moment, then. If we're calm about this I might be able to avoid using fire and I imagine that'd make you feel better." Did the bear understand? Probably not, but as always talking made her feel better. She grabbed a sturdy branch and began to climb into the tree. The hive was inside a pleasant hollow, and if she just took a few capped combs it ought not to disturb the inner residents too much.

[bakrahispul]

Hearing the familiar words was one thing, but seeing a familiar amulet out of the corner of his eye was a pleasant surprise.

'Twas a little keepsake, lost to him after some time living in the grove. A small amulet in dedication to Sylvanus was worn by one of the hogs as a decorative piece that was eventually assumed to be eaten or buried in the ground.

The last time he considered searching for it, Ormn was lumbering around with the scent barely within their reach. He knew those waterfall engravings as soon as his eyes laid upon them.

Like a little goblin, Astarion's kleptomanic tendencies really stoked Halsin's heart in ways he never expected. Even more so did his admiration grow having heard the simple enchantment from the vampire's lips. While it was not a hard dedication to remember words for a simple spell, the resourcefulness was much appreciated.

"Looting our home has certainly made the best out of this situation. It seems." He playfully joked, loosening his stiff form as the temporary relief gave him a more animated response to their trudge back home.

With the feel of the caress upon his cheek, Halsin's face nudged towards Astarion's left thumb, giving just a small, tender smooch as a sign of appreciation.

"I think I can walk independently from here unless you enjoy handling such damaged goods with great interest." Halsin answered back.

Trust? The sound of it was near foreign to the pale elf’s pointy ears, inviting a snort faithful to incredulity and packed in cynicism. With the way Halsin carried himself, far be it for Astarion to question his resolve. The druid was, after all, as stubborn as he was guileless.

“Good…” Trailing off, his gaze narrowed. “Well, since I half-expected you to push me off, you might want to take a seat for a spell or two. I may have overindulged a little.” Not enough to kill, but visibly enough to leave the burly elf dazed.

At the mention of camp, the vampire would have looked more enthusiastic if Halsin had spoken of the grove instead. It was, after all, a place he did not like with people he did not get along with. Rather like a feline who had no wish to be picked up, Astarion’s shoulders sagged and his pointy ears seemed to droop slightly as he looked off to the side, where the dead gith had collapsed onto the ground once Halsin’s concentration spell wore off.

“Eugh, suddenly the dead gith becomes quite the pleasant bedfellow.” Rummaging through his effects, Astarion ferreted out an amulet and replaced it for his misty step one. “Wait,” he seized Halsin by the arm. It took the pale elf a couple of minutes to attune to the damn thing before he could mutter a spell. Hands framed the archdruid’s face and Astarion touched their foreheads. “Here goes nothing…”

Vincere est vivere.

Normally, Silvanus wouldn’t have answered the vampire’s prayers.

This time, he did.

A Lesser Restoration spell, blessed by none other than the archdruid’s patron deity himself, slowly brought the colour back to Halsin’s cheeks and filled out those muscles with strength anew.

“How are you feeling?” Astarion’s voice landed like a caress, thumbs rubbing over the swell of his lover’s cheekbones where strays of burnt blond curled messily against. “Now, I’m normally not one to hand out kindness, but reaping, sowing,” Halsin, “all that.”

[bakrahispul]

The rush, the delight, the delicately crafted sexual aggression made for a fantastic feeling. Like a rush of vibrant emotions that let itself out in ropes as his release came forth. Halsin's energy surged, fueled by these feelings that gave rigidness to his movement. The focus was off the little vampire in this moment for him - centered entirely on the body that he claimed and let loose his own enjoyment upon.

Arms gripped; body pressed; hips glued. The erratic thrusts were powerful enough to bruise if received for too long. time seemed to stretch for every shot he gave, but the small cracks still showed.

The swift breath was taken in the lull of each thrust. The seizing of muscles against Halsin's rampaging climax. The intentional submissiveness lacked any fight against the druid's reaping of delight. Heightened senses could never forget the being he was making love to, even amidst the flurry of emotions that clouded his instincts.

The embers of lust died down slowly compared to its explosive rise. The druid's hand lost coordination through the strokes upon Astarion's manhood. The essence flowed and splattered the floor, littering it. Heat emanated from Halsin's body and spread itself upon Astarion's back, making it feel as though the body he made love to could be convinced that it was alive and that the heavy beat of his heart could work for two.

It could easily be seen as an accident, Halsin's body briefly gave out on him, losing the strength he had moments before as he unceremoniously relieved himself, separating his and Astarion's body as the poor elf was pushed against the floor, left like a discarded toy that quickly snapped the druid's senses back into order.

What surprised him was the lack of reaction. His beloved vampire was nimble and could easily pick himself right off...

...Yet, he couldn't even hold onto the tree to save his fall. his body lay there at the base, spent and melancholic.

"My...My love?"

Halsin panted heavily, crouching down, turning the cheek to find the soft shine of a tear streak.

"Did I wrong you?"

A gut wrenching sentiment seized his core when realisation dawned upon Astarion at just what it took to drive him closer to the edge. It wasn’t until Halsin’s grip had tightened around his neck and pinned him back against the expanse of that toned chest that his stomach tied in knots. It wasn’t until his throat closed and the threat of breathlessness loomed over him, along with a sting of pain, that Astarion could finally feel the pressure building.

In the most fucked up sense of awareness, when his spine ached from being bent and his backside stung from the assault, Astarion knew it was only pain or control that could get him off.

A tear tracked down the hollow of his cheek and his shoulders loosened with a sigh.

For once, the pale elf was thankful that Halsin wasn’t looking.

Faster, fuller movements not designed to cater to comfort set his mind into a static. The air felt dense... denser now, like his head was underwater. Sounds meshed and garbled, every sigh lost its edge and every breath was registered muffled. When Astarion’s body threatened to topple forth, Halsin’s hold fastened a tighter grip around him, keeping him afoot.

Loose, messy pulls jerked him off until ribbons of his own release shot forth and dribbled down his length, pooling around the nook where the archdruid’s hand met the vampire’s shaft. Halsin’s pulse came alive in his throat, quickened, and it was either force of habit or impounded years of practice that kept the pale elf going.

Astarion wasn’t trained to stop until his partner had found fulfilment.

[bakrahispul]

"Your name? Ah, well. That's simple enough for me, I think."

Playing dumb was a strong suit given his stature as a brute with a tender heart. Holding the vampire with ease slipped as every second flew by. The once-tight friction between their bodies loosened as the druid's heated frame rubbed with sweat produced from his own body. Cooled barely by Astarion's chilling skin, their motions worked to a near-state of perfection as the thrusts continued with increasing vigor.

Halsin's nape met a familiar feeling, though his mental preparation eased the stinging sensation. Clinging on like a parasite, his lover latched and wantonly glued their presence, nearly constricting his motions while he resumed their raunchy, barbaric motions. The echo of lust adrift in Baldur's wind sang a sultry song for the evening, composed with a druid and a vampire's body clashing like delicate instruments.

Their spirits were high. Their bodies were primed, and Halsin's emotions surged as violently as his own powers worked. Gentle illuminations of druidic markings flashed against his body, gilded like the sun that had etched itself on his prime body. Maintaining focus was difficult given the situation, but as long as his sights pinned themselves against the creature of night he knew he could resist the wild magic for enough time...

Buckling, the druid dropped the feeling of weightlessness for poor Astarion as he swiveled about, palming the vampire's manhood for safety as he pinned his stomach against the bark of the tree. Two opposing stimuli - that of the rigid bark and the bear-druid's wiry, warm chest. Propped upwards, Astarion's member ran comfortably within the grip of the druid, its advance halted with a thumb for a blockade. 'Rough' was no longer an understatement for the silver elf rammed against the tree.

"With all my heart and my loins..."

"..Astarion."

"I love you."

Laced in short love letters towards the vampire's left ear, the druid sang his adoration, pumping through each line in rhythm before the inevitable cram of his hips glued their waists together, sheathing that luscious manhood where the errant twitches chained for a release within.

Squashed by the tree and the druid, all while feeling the efforts of lovemaking through the ropes painted within, Astarion was spoiled with enough stimuli to leave one starry-eyed.

Astarion’s pupils edged away the crimson in those eyes, glazing over his centre of focus with a distant, bokeh effect. There was no shame in the shameless, no reservations either despite home being so close.

Only Halsin could manage to make even humiliation sound loving and sweet. It was in the way he handled the vampire’s body, in the warmth that laced his magnificent baritone when it tightened as his throat constricted around those words. My love rang so true, truer now that the edges where one began and the other ended were all but blurred.

That damned druid and his stamina were the stuff of legends.

So you have been holding back, a cocky smirk pulled at the corner of Astarion’s lips.

Before Astarion had the mind to wrap one of his hands around his cock, Halsin beat him to that chase, pumping him with locking circles of that massive wrist. Loosening his waist, the vampire ground his backside against his lover’s visceral charges, serpentine and sweltering. Instinct left his mouth agape to an onslaught of raw sounds and gruff, five-milliseconds sighs.

There was a weightlessness to his body– Halsin made it easy for Astarion to believe himself feather-light. It was as if gravity had lost its magnitude and the druid was the one to decide who was grounded and who would float. Craning his neck, Astarion latched on to Halsin’s nape in a tangle of burnt blond tresses and sticky sweat for leverage when the floor was pulled away from him on occasion. Nails dug into the druid's malt-whiskey skin and dragged a token of bloody welts in their wake.

“...m-my ah… name.” Astarion’s voice was dense, mouth crowded with his moans and fangs poking in display along with a low, sultry smirk. “Say it…” He purred, looking like a man standing on the edge of the world who didn’t care if the landing would shatter him.

[bakrahispul]

Her answers were satisfactory at best. It wasn't something she could control, nor something she could warn him easily about. Keeping an eye on her will be paramount. The evening felt safe enough at least - for it was not often that Aileen had a second bout of these horrid acts as far as Halsin knew.

The grave was shortly made in haste. The falling sun in the distance did not give much luxury for time as the druid buried the dead. Peaceful, like it never woke from its dream. The feathers plucked from its marred body were kept in a small satchel at its feet, while the body looked near presentable, what with Halsin cleaning up the most egregious effects upon it.

Aileen's flowers were placed once all the dirt had been returned, creating a gentle mound overlooking the hill with lively yellow flowers adorning it.

"Chrysanthemums. Flowers for the afterlife. I didn't know you picked the right flowers for the right job." He quietly spoke.

It might have been pure luck that she chose them, given the lack of teachings he gave her about the flora of this region. It might have been complete intention. Regardless, there was a body to mourn, and their last few minutes of sunrise were spent in silence before the trail back home.

The way back home was heavy. Not much could be said but the tension was palpable. Halsin's hand settled on Aileen's back, keeping a connection with her as they traversed all while maintaining his guard over her form. 'Twas like a weary caretaker coddling their young.

"I doubt you can remember much - but if you could enlighten me about your family's traditions, it may serve as a foundation for my studies on your plight." He spoke. Cold and collected with a dash of interest. Halsin tried to keep his presence amicable for the young lass. It would do her no good as an emotional mess if he acted distant at her most vulnerable moments.

Like someone who'd spent years with no agency over her own body, Aileen simply bowed her head and allowed the druid to cleanse her. In her experience, women were normally the ones who would handle that... but who was she to deny kindness?

Fair-skin was peppered with freckles like constellations, fiery locks framed her form- such a skinny thing that she was. Underfed not from recent struggles, but a short lifetime of starvation.

Once finished, the half-elf let out a breath as if she'd been holding it all along.

Without another sound, Aileen scooped the bird's body in her hands and followed suit until they reached a spot where the earth felt softer under her feet. Looking at her master for a sign, it was after his nod that she got down on her knees to begin digging the soil, where Aileen put the body of the bird to rest and covered it lightly.

Unsure what to do next, Aileen plucked flowers by the stem to weave a tiny garland and decorate the mound of freshly-turned earth with.

Aileen's father, or betrothed as the cultists would call him, often told her that different folk buried the dead over different reasons. Back at the temple they were placed in stone coffins within crypts.

"I... I have no control over myself when that happens, master Halsin." Aileen curled in as if half-expecting him to swat her over her own incompetence. Noticing the druid wasn't prone to violence, the redhead blinked twice as if in mild stupor. It took her a second to gather her train of thought back together and muster speech. "It's as if there was someone else pushing me aside... What I do, the words I say... Even my own thoughts don't seem like mine."

And the relief she felt each time there was blood on her hands was something Aileen had no wish to address.

"I'm afraid that I won't be able to tell you when it happens... I'm sorry."