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He tries not to think too heavily on his sister's thoughts without her brother. To see Iara struggle here... he and his sister were very close once and it pains him to imagine that she too sat and wondered if she would ever see her dear brother again. A difficult pill to swallow, he finds out rather harshly. " No. I stopped speaking to her a few years before I was attacked. "

Where Dareth would usually scooch away from someone attempting to get closer, he does not this time. He allows Iara closer and that speaks more volumes than any of his words ever could. " I left home very angry. And young. I never had a chance to truly return after what had happened. I am... far too different now. I am a man they would not recognize. " her final question has him pondering which path to take in his answer. His fingers drum on his knee and he spares his companion a glance. " I am not as lonely as you may think. "

Her fingers twist, wrinkling the embroidered apron before smoothing the heavy, forest-dyed fabric out. A self-soothing motion as Iara traces the work of her mother's graceful, work-gnarled hands. "Our pack is nomadic. Sometimes the younger members wander off in search of knowledge, but we always return home after a time. I— I'm due to go back soon, with or without my brother." She replies, tone quieted, lost to nostalgia and longing for the comforts of her family. Summers where they played as pups in open fields. When they chased after fireflies and gathered herbs, fascinated as they watched their father make potions and poultices like it was all magic. And it still is to her, the miracle of mixing ingredients, as her weight shifts and little bottles on her belt clink, gentle as wind chimes.

As Dareth reveals a fragment of himself, Iara scoots closer as if to signal it's her turn to offer support. "Is it because of your condition you don't speak to her? It's dangerous to travel the road with a troubled heart, Dareth." A touch of melancholy tints her voice again, and yet that's all she sees looking at him: someone weighed by the entire world, engulfed by all his sorrows. "Isn't the loneliness much worse than any curse?" No one should ever have to feel this way.

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Something tightens within his chest at the mention of a brother ... especially as he is told that he reminds her of him. It makes him frown and cast his gaze down for a few moments so he can ponder how he proceeds. " Is it not in wolves' nature to remain a pack? " he questions hesitantly. He is not wholly sure of the fact himself, Dareth has always been alone with the wolf. " My parents weren't that heartbroken to see me leave. "

He looks back over to her, still slightly hesitant. " I ... have a sister. " something on his features soften, as best as they can for Dareth at least. " And perhaps you will think of me as ironic as I say this but ... you remind me of her as well. I have not spoken to her in... " his brows furrow, he's lost track of the time. He grumbles a bit before continuing the sentence. " several decades. " she more than likely also thinks Dareth is dead in a ditch somewhere.

It's a furious sniffling that overtakes her, hand rubbing at the corner of her eyes as tears begin to stream, hot and heavy. Inhaling shuddering lungfuls, easing the constricting ball of emotion with some success, Iara aims a watery smile at him. "You don't have to apologize for what you didn't cause," she manages, sentence interrupted by hiccups and a few more deep breaths. Another pitiful sniffle as her hands wrap around the moon-shaped pendant, worrying at the silver-laminated metal — tempted to take it off and ease into the skin of the wolf for a while.

"I have a brother. We haven't talked in years, and sometimes I think he's dead in a ditch somewhere... You remind me of him. And I—" Miss him. So terribly and dearly. There's a mournful howl building up from deep within her heart, and Iara dries her reddened eyes and slowly regains her composure, expression appreciative that Dareth granted her the space to do so. "Do you have family? I would say you must've been raised by wolves, but you'd take offense to that." A hint of laughter builds, half-hearted in its attempt.

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He winces slightly. Like she has hissed at him or thrown splashes of hot water in his direction. The question stings because he doesn't truly know the right answer. A large part of him wants to say spite but ... he isn't truly living out of spite. He is unaware of the piece of him that just wishes to know what living is like. Each time he has tried, the bitterness of his fate is shoved down his throat.

He does not answer, as shameful as that makes him. It does, however, leave her the room that she needs to continue up until she cannot. His gaze swiftly flicks up from where he was previously staring a hole in the ground now over to her. The frown on his face reads differently than any other time. There's an obvious glint of empathy (rare on his features) and concern. " I am sorry. " he gives, but doesn't reach out to comfort her. He doesn't know what to do to fix moment and it causes him to tense up without meaning to. " I did not mean to-- ... Are you alright? "

Momentary joy feeds into sympathy in the next few moments, and there's a persistent ache to her heart — a reminder that few would look upon her and see beyond the blessing that pulsates wild and untamed in her veins. Swift, a flinch, and then her gaze roams over Dareth's features once more, eyes shuttered as Iara considers the vengeance-stricken reply. "Why haven't you taken a blade to your guts already, then?" A soft voice cannot remove the sharp weight of the question, and yet the core of it remains discernible: Why do you still wan to live?

Overhead, feathers glint in the branches as birds begin their evening hunts. Guided by instinct, the need to survive, to take care of their young before their return to the earth. "The path you walk on will lead to nothing more than a slow death caused by your own stubbornness. You let it starve and it will continue to devour you until there is nothing of you left. Like it did with—" It's here her tone raises. Turns brambled and coarse with distress — tears gathering at the corner of her eyes as memories, cruel and inexplicable, remind her of a brother lost to the beast.

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Caitlyn Siehl, from What We Buried; “Kindling”

[Text ID: “I am all mouth, with teeth like kindling. / Do not kiss me before you know this. / I am all hunger, all restraint and poised bones, coiled spine, patient spring.”]

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I AM HAUNTED BY A PAST I CANNOT GO BACK TO !!!!!! anyways

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Come closer, stay away

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@darkgifted / starter call.

Dareth's tent sits a bit further away from everyone else's. He isn't so far out of the way that his position could be dangerous or risk him being too far from the rest of the party but ... he is a simple man who enjoys his privacy. He does not know what to do here even though the pack mentality tries to burrow into his brain.

The distance he has put himself at, as he struggles to adapt here, means that Arlis' approach is purposeful. He looks at her, his good eye sharp and quick to follow her approach. Even as he comes to a full stand, he looks stiff. Guarded. " Are we not resting? " he assumes he's being summoned. " It is getting late in the day. "

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He eyes the berry ... wanting to pluck it from her friendly fingertips to ferociously devour as if he had not eaten in weeks. But he doesn't. He looks at it as if it rots in her hand until he blinks -- and then it is just a berry. Just a berry, Dareth. A cautious hand takes the offering and he shoves it quickly into his mouth. Only a real fool would let such an offer go squandered. (It's also a beautiful excuse to ponder on her words as he chews.)

" I am too stubborn to feed it. " he gives and it feels prying apart dusty pages of a book long left lonely and untouched. " I want it to starve and suffer. Sometimes I do not care about what it does to me in return. " I want it to know I hate it. I want it to suffer just as I did. As I do. " I want it to rot. "

you’re not ashamed? / @blindshoot

"Should I be?" Why? Retort swift as his arrows, her red-stained fingers pluck another tart berry from the flower-embroidered smock she wears at all times. The offer of sharing still stands, even if Dareth resumes conversation with his usual blade-blunt tact, wary like she's offering poison instead of foraged treats. Yet despite her levity, features growing solemn, earnest with the desire to provide succor in some shape, Iara sits straighter and fidgets with the ends of her hair. "It's all I've known my life. For our family it's no different than a druid shifting forms. It's different for you, that much I can understand, but it's still a part of you now. You starve your wolf and expect it not to snap its jaws in hunger."

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@branchbled / starter call.

He tries to keep his distance from the druids and their space, lest he intrude on something that he has no part of or finds the bad side of Kagha's mood. But sometimes Maeve gives him no choice but to wander through. No matter how much he detests the eyes that watch him -- outsider, unwelcomed, not one of us, do not belong, do not belong, does not belong -- he still slinks his way through the grove to keep a closer eye on his companion.

" Do you think this little group will succeed in wiping out the goblins? " it's quieter in here, perhaps that's why Maeve was insistent that he come in while she spoke with Kagha. Nettie is close with Halsin, this much he knows, so he wonders what her thoughts are. " Or that they will bring Halsin back? "

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I AM COLD, I AM ROTTEN, I AM INDIFFERENT.

The rot that forms between your lungs and the moss that curls around the intricate layout of a ribcage swallow up the elf you once were. You lie in a decaying forest where you feel the ground coming up to take you as it's own. To be food for the trees that thrive and grow and grow and grow. The rings of their trunks aging more than you could ever think of. Dream of.

A golden ray of light will be your savior and she will tend to you well. But you will never be the same again.

Dareth hates the way he looks, he will actively avoid reflective surfaces if he is able. He knows that he is ugly and rotten to stare at. He thinks he is even worse, knowing what he harbors within him. A beast. A plague. A monster. Dareth feels nothing but the weight of rot hanging off of his shoulders.

Truly the only time he thinks he is worth something to someone is with Maeve. He does care for his friends that he collects through the adventure but that doesn't mean he has to believe them when they say he isn't as bad as he thinks he is. After feeling the the decay of the world attempt to claim him as it's own for so long it is hard to keep his chin up.

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@fatewoven (for iara!) / ❝ good morning! thank you for not killing me the other night. ❞

Dareth is tending to a snapped arrow from his pack when Iara approaches. Even as she approaches and speaks to him he does not look up or acknowledge her. Not at first at least. He examines the thin splintered wood before pulling out a small knife to try and pry the arrowhead off. " Good morning. " spoken after a solid minute of concentrated silence.

There's a bit of shame in what she thanks him for. Perhaps he should be prideful that she does in fact still stand here willingly greeting him because that means he found the semblance of control in himself that he needed. His eye does not meet her gaze and he continues to whittle at broken wood. " I do not tell people to run because it brings me joy to waste my breath. When that, " thing, monster, curse -- he remembers who he speaks to and swallows his words. " When the wolf starts to fight I cannot stop him. I have no power. No control. "

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baldur's gate 3 starters (part 1)

part 1 / ? .

❝ a less trusting person might think this all sounds very suspicious. ❞ ❝ you say all the right words, but i’m not sure you mean the right things. ❞ ❝ i know somewhere quiet. somewhere intimate. somewhere we can…indulge in each other. ❞ ❝ eugh, don’t be nice to me. it makes me want to be nice back. ❞ ❝ we needn’t be enemies. there’s plenty of those to go around already. ❞ ❝ there’s a steeliness to you, an unwavering tenacity in the face of, to be frank, quite dire odds. ❞ ❝ even the waves of fate can break upon the shores of will. ❞ ❝ i appreciate anyone that opens a conversation with threats of bodily harm. ❞ ❝ oh, you know me - ever the optimist. i’m trying to focus on the positives. ❞ ❝ i’m not easily impressed by people, but you’re stronger than i gave you credit for. ❞ ❝ there’s an air about you. something alien. ❞ ❝ loosen the grip on your pride for one blasted moment, won’t you? ❞ ❝ it’s been a long time since someone stuck their neck out for me like that. ❞ ❝ there’s something odd about this village. people skulk around like they’ve something to hide. ❞ ❝ you know, if you want to spend time with me, you only have to say so. ❞ ❝ i want to know what the world sees when it looks at me. what you see. ❞ ❝ what’s better than a devil you don’t know? a devil you do. ❞ ❝ you must know that you’re…that you’re very special to me. ❞ ❝ the gods are nothing if not vindictive in their vengeance. ❞ ❝ stay with me a while, will you? day will come all too soon. ❞ ❝ here’s my little treat with their cheeks all flushed. ❞ ❝ i am terrified. i will not claim otherwise. ❞ ❝ my apologies. i’m not quite myself yet. i had the strangest dream last night. ❞ ❝ we didn’t die today. tomorrow, perhaps. but not today. ❞ ❝ leader’s need to make tough decisions. we do what we must. ❞ ❝ i think that unknowable powers come with unknowable consequences. ❞ ❝ i’ve had a lifetime’s fill of watching little men puff themselves up with grand titles. ❞ ❝ in these times, all we can trust are the blades in our hands. ❞ ❝ it’s not easy to turn away from one you once loved. ❞ ❝ much has been promised to you, hasn’t it? but what has been taken from you? ❞ ❝ damn it all. i can do nothing right - not a damn thing. ❞ ❝ every instinct i have tells me that nothing’s changed. that i’m still just a means to an end. ❞ ❝ do not speak of a story you only know the half of. ❞ ❝ i dreamt every night that you’d come back to me. that somehow it was all a nightmare dawn would undo. ❞ ❝ when the time comes to strike, you must take it. for there may be only one chance. ❞ ❝ your eyes. there is pain, endless and deep. but also devotion - blazing like the sun. ❞ ❝ you’re adorable even when you’re teasing me. ❞ ❝ i don’t need your help, and i don’t need your pity. ❞ ❝ i’m more than what i was. and i’m not afraid of anything any more. ❞ ❝ i said exactly what i meant: i love you. you should never, never doubt that. ❞ ❝ this is all like some sort of terrible dream. but it’s real, isn’t it? ❞ ❝ there is no redemption. can’t you see? it is too late. ❞ ❝ i don’t know that it was brave. i just know that it was right. ❞ ❝ you took those bastards down like it was nothing. it…was amazing. ❞ ❝ they underestimated me. so they paid the price. ❞ ❝ we fight, we die, and we just hope that when our time comes, there is someone else to take our place. ❞ ❝ unfortunately for me, you’re my friend. rescuing you from mortal peril is my right. ❞ ❝ what did you think i was going to say? 'oh, come here, i'll kiss you better'? ❞ ❝ flowers are so overrated. they're bright, gaudy, and almost never make good poisons. ❞ ❝ i’ve been lied to, my whole life. and i was gullible enough to just believe it. ❞ ❝ you know, i never pictured myself as a hero. never thought i'd be the one they toast for saving so many lives. and now that i'm here…i hate it. ❞ ❝ you know, i feel a connection between us. like we're two souls walking the same path. ❞ ❝ the forgiving sort, are you? you should be careful. plenty would take advantage of that. ❞

❝ it’s as if god made you just to ruin me. ❞ ❝ perish the thought. every word i said was nothing less than true. ❞ ❝ you have a manner of irresistible desperation about you. i like it. ❞ ❝ i got my eye on you. you got the look of a troublemaker. ❞ ❝ i’m starting to think you’re my guardian angel. ❞ ❝ it seems you know me better than i know myself. ❞ ❝ you…you have no idea what you’ve done. ❞ ❝ they say madness and genius are separated by but a hair’s breadth. perhaps the same is true of madness and stupidity. ❞ ❝ oh, it’s you. don’t you get tired of telling people how to live their lives? ❞ ❝ good morning! thank you for not killing me the other night. ❞ ❝ when the time comes to strike, you must take it. for there may be only one chance. ❞ ❝ it is good to savour the moment of victory - but pace bg3 syourself. our fight is just beginning. ❞ ❝ i was too hasty to judge you. i thought you were witless, gutless, unimpressivably bland… ❞ ❝ yours is the first happy face i’ve seen in a good while. ❞ ❝ when hope has been whittled down to the very marrow of despair – that’s when you’ll come knocking on my door. ❞ ❝ thank you, my friend. maybe we’ll meet again, in another life. ❞ ❝ you’ll regret sticking your nose in my business. ❞

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hi! you can like this for a little starter!

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dareth has food aggression so if you try to take his food from him he will Bite You

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" I can tell. " it may be hard to tell whenever Dareth is being rude or not but this time that one felt a bit pointed. He looks Astarion over, as if studying him like a marked prey. Trying to size him up. " You could use some pointers. " this time it isn't as insulting. Perhaps more ... helpful.

" I have seen you wander. Only a few times while I have kept watch also. The area you choose is common hunting ground. " he won't bring up how kills are usually not brought back. It simply is not his business to worry about. (Perhaps because he does the very same and neither of them cares to share that fact. Not even with each other. Ignorance is bliss.) " You also smell like dirt. " definitely an insult.

"If I must." astarion seemed more or less unbothered by the prodding, although suspicious eyes did glance at him through the corners. it was no secret that he often would walk the perimeter of the camp while others lay to sleep, but he was an elf. that was excuse enough. "But I did not do much of it before our recent hijacking, no. I hadn't a reason to. I was a magistrate in the city, not some ruffian." it was both the truth and a lie. astarion did not feel that dareth was owed his life story or an explanation, and attention was drawn back forward; chin tilted up in pride.

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the lore doc's not done but i want u all to know maeve exists and i love her so im allowing a sneak peek bc im lazy and dont wanna start the next section

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The answer that he receives at first is inadequate by his standards. To Dareth, it is a simple answer but that is because he does not understand what happens in the mind of the other. But he receives another one quickly enough to only give a displeased look. It swiftly settles into an acceptance.

" Then you stop. " And Dareth does the same, a hand curls into a fist and he presses the clasped fingers to his chest. " Your chest is your heart. Driven by that you are sure to be led astray. " a beat, his arm lowers. " Your gut is instinct. Something tugging and making you feel enough discomfort to be aware. " he glances around but doesn't move. " We can go another route. Perhaps find a flank if there is something up ahead. "

Balfour looks to Dareth at his question, and does not quite know how to describe how he feels this. Not his chest, not his gut. Something innate, perhaps. Or Zybilna is simply looking out for her precious puppet, unwilling to let him die a pointless death and bestowing upon him this wariness like a shiver down the spine. He sighs.

"I cannot tell the difference." A beat, a moment to consider Dareth's face. He cannot speak the truth of it. "My gut," he decides, then. The closest answer. "It's my gut. What make you of that?"